#tashi duncan imagine

[yameoto]

COACH KNOWS BEST. ART, TASHI, PATRICK.

synopsis; you fucked up an important match. your punishment? a one-on-one match against patrick zweig. in your tiny tennis skirt. without your underwear. don't worry, baby. it's a private court.

✗ warnings ; coach!artashi, protégé!reader, dom!art/tashi/patrick, dubcon, foursome, double penetration, unhealthy power dynamics, large age-gap, slutshaming, exhibition, humiliation, sex on tennis courts, anal (you only have so many holes). this is NOT a classy party.

"DO i really have to wear this?" you hiss, indignant. fruitlessly attempting to tug your skirt down—if you could even call it that. a flimsy scrap of fabric, more like. (god, you think maybe it was tashi's when she was what—eleven?).

the hem just barely skims over your upper thighs. you can feel a goddamn breeze between your legs. you're eternally grateful for art and tashi, really, but this is fucking insane—

no— it's fine. it's fine. they’re your coaches, they know best.

"maybe if you hadn't fucked up that last volley." tashi scolds, harsh — her tough love familiar. though, there's a delighted glint to her eyes as you subconsciously squeeze your thighs together, trying your best to ignore the fact your ass is peeking out from under the bottom. your cheeks flare red.

“it’s a private tennis court.” art reassures, the warmth of his palm on your shoulder being far less comforting than normal. you scowl at the ground, knuckles clenching tight around your racket.

"oh, don't be so skittish. he's not that good." tashi coos, as if facing patrick zweig is the reason you're shifting your weight from foot to foot, hand squeezed determinedly at your crotch. tashi smiles. cradles your jaw, fingers swiping along your bottom lip—bitten raw and glossy. "just play your best." an hour later, and you’re not playing your best. you can’t play your fucking best—because with every movement, every hop, skip, and fucking jump; your skirt is fluttering upward and flashing your bare cunt to patrick motherfucking zweig.

this is hell. hell.

you're stiff as you move about the court, hyper-aware of the feeling of wind rushing between your legs. you’re sluggish in your pace—far too pre-occupied with yanking your skirt down every few seconds rather than actually focusing on the match.

how can you? especially when patrick's staring at you like he's trying to rip your thighs apart with his eyes. art and tashi are no better. you jump to return a ball, and your skirt flies up; displaying your ass spectacularly. you almost get whiplash with how fast you go rigid. “open up your form.” tashi chimes in. you shoot her a desperate, pleading look. she just arches a brow, expression impassive—though you don't miss the subtle quirk to her lips. she’s enjoying this. suppressing a whine, you broaden your stance obediently—legs sliding apart on the court. patrick's pupils dilate, and he not-so-subtly presses the hilt of his racket into his groin.

you swallow, hard. his eyes seem to follow that, too.

you're about to serve, before art’s voice cuts in from the sidelines—soft, low and yet—effortlessly authoritative.

"lower."

heat floods up to your ears. you bend down, feeling the fabric of your skirt hike even higher up your exposed asscheeks. you direct him a desperate glance, eyes wide—a bid for approval.

art smiles. "lower." a low whimper slips from your lips, but you obey because they're your coaches, of course you'll do what they say. patrick grunts in barely concealed disappointment as the front of your skirt drapes further over your cunt. your blush is violent. fuck, you look like the intro to a porno; back arched, ass perked so high the goddamn sun is warming your cheeks. you want to crawl into a hole and die.

though, when you finally risk a glance back; the feeling turns into a strangely pleasant heat, unfurling in your gut. tashi's eyes are lidded, sunglasses slid halfway down her nose. art's pupils are so dark his eyes have lost their blue. his thighs are quivering.

"good girl." tashi purrs. you shiver, and you almost drop your racket. "

"oh, fuck this." patrick growls, and then all of a sudden his racket has clattered to the ground and he's lunging for you—two hands clumsily seizing your hips and shoving you to the ground. he doesn't even have to hike up your skirt. his knee is shoved up between your legs, meaning he has full access to everything. he stares, greedy—and you stare back; specifically at the way the swollen tip of his cock hangs out from the side of his shorts. his slit drools, and a fat glob of pre-cum splats on your thigh.

he shrugs at the way your jaw drops—wry grin splitting his lips. "what? didn't want you to feel left out."

"patrick." art stands, voice low with rare warning. possessiveness. patrick only shoots back a broad smirk—lifting his hand up to give him the finger—before sticking up his index and wagging it in a stupidly lewd motion. if possible, it makes your cheeks glow even hotter than they already are—it's type of thing boys your age would do, not a grown-ass man.

"what, man? you can't tell me this isn't exactly what you wanted."

art scowls, though he doesn't say anything—the massive hard-on he's sporting speaks for itself. tashi's expression is unreadable from behind her shades; but nothing ever happens without tashi's say so.

"dude, she's so wet." patrick grins, and to your rising horror—you are. he spits on his palm before roughly thumbing the slick down your thighs, smearing, before popping it in his mouth. he swirls his tongue over the nub of his thumb, waggling his brows.

"of course she is." tashi hums, and a whine tears from your throat. shaking your head adamantly because for some reason tashi’s instantaneous, patronising nod of assent makes you feel more like a whore than patrick’s fingers sliding up your skirt. no, no. i don't. it's sweat. i swear, swear to god—

before the slew of protests can find its way out of your throat; three fingers are shoving themselves up your cunt and you gasp—back thrashing against hot concrete.

“oh, you didn't want this?” tashi’s voice drawls, low and slow and deliberate in your ear, hips rolling into yours. you whine, drawing a white-hot blank as her fingers slide deeper into your cunt, “because i don't see any tennis players on the court. just a couple of sluts.”

you barely even register patrick's aggrieved "hey!" from offside, the unfairness of it all bubbling up in your stomach and dizzying your head because what the fuck— that's not— you made me— but you can't force the words out; not when you can feel two hands wrest behind you by the shoulders. the feeling of callouses against your skin familiar—disarming. you whimper, a plea for salvation. "art—"

''shush." art hisses, roughly seizing the band of your tennis skirt and jerking it entirely up your mid-riff, so you're completely exposed waist-down. your eyes blow wide at the humid air that rushes against your crotch—back arching when his hand snakes under your top and pinches at your nipples.

"i'm surprised you even bothered with these." he remarks as he shoves your bra aside, not unkindly—but hardly considerate either, with the way his fingers squeeze and pinch and twist meanly. your knees almost buckle from under you.

not that they can, not with patrick holding you up by the backs of your thighs, shorts slid midway down his thighs. his cock throbs, swollen and needy as he pushes his groin up against yours. "m'shocked you even let me through the gates," patrick hums, and you don't have to look to know he's breathing down art's neck. "to break your little rookie in, no less." he's so cocky, spit flecking your pussy—talking like you aren't even there.

you squirm, but art is groping your tits and patrick is wrenching your legs apart and tashi has thrust a fourth finger up your pussy and fuuuuck—your limbs are reduced to jelly. thrust and tied up on a ridiculously hot torture wrack; tugged and pulled and twisted in three directions at once.

"not so fucking fast—the deal was if you won. you didn't fucking win." that's tashi. her fingers curl harshly, knuckles pressing against your walls. you take in a shuddering breath, eyes rolling back into your head.

"what the fuck? that's so unfair." patrick's voice is an indignant whine as tashi yanks him back by the hair. "i was winning! how the hell was i supposed to control myself—" you can feel his hands clamping over your ass, rough and domineering. his dick insistently wedges into the corner between your thigh and folds, as if trying to force entry.

"maybe if you had a little self-discipline, for once—"

"oh, that's fuckin' rich of you to say, making her come out here and—"

"shut up." art pants, low and hot in your ear, and you almost forgot he was there. you don't know how, with the way he's grinding his length furiously against your bare ass—damp in the way you know he's already creamed his pants already. his fingers wrest the nub of your nipple at the same time that patrick brute-forces his way inside your cunt. your body contorts between the three of them—a choked, rattled cry ripping from your throat and sending your vision dancing into spots. for a terrifying, blissful moment, your brain empties completely.

"god—" patrick grunts, shoving himself deeper, nails digging into the flesh of your ass as he pounds, with great effort. tashi's eyes flash with annoyance, though she doesn't physically wrench him off. not one to be one-upped; the next time art bucks his hips, you realise he's ditched the pants entirely—head of his cock dragging against the crease of your ass. it's a slick, slow friction—tender—dripping a glistening trail down your crack. and then, his hips snap back, and then he's plunging into your hole—the wet, slapping sound of his balls against your ass almost as loud as patrick's moans as he stuffs your pussy full. the two ram into you with vicious ferocity—like they're seeing who can come inside you first.

it hurts it hurts it hurts. as if the insides of your body have been set alight, limbs writhing uselessly—a bubbling, curdling heat deep in your belly. but it also feels good, somehow. when your head lolls forward, boneless and fuzzy; you can see the way your stomach distends with each of patrick and art’s brutal thrusts. the outlines of their cocks, cramming into you—fierce, desperate. tashi can see too, clearly. her free hand delicately runs over your abdomen—nails scraping. you can’t even gasp at the cool sensation. not when you’ve felt fuller than you ever have in your life.

it’s just like tennis. just like tennis. no pain, no gain—right?

art comes first, because of course he does. letting out a soft, keening hiss of his own as he slams his hips into you, palm squeezing your tits so hard you think you're about to burst. he shoots his load into you with a choked whine. he doesn't pull out—doesn't want to abandon the tight warmth of your hole, hugging his cock like the world’s prettiest little fleshlight. he simply fucks back into you with a blissful groan. slowly, painfully, knees quivering as his seed squirts out with every thrust.

patrick is louder when he does it; grunting with a guttural "mmf— fuck!" hips stuttering jerkily as a torrent of sticky warmth floods into you, oozing out from between his cock and tashi's fingers. it dribbles down your legs and spatters wet splotches against the tennis court. you can't even speak anymore, lips parting in wordless gulps of air.

that's when tashi yanks her fingers out from you—strings of cum trawling, stretching out of your pussy as she does so. you don't even have time to mourn the loss before art's stuffing you full of his dick again and tashi is cramming her warm, wet fingers in your mouth.

art is simply jerking in slow, torturous movements, and tashi is sliding her hand so far down your throat you almost choke. she smiles. "suck." it’s an order—not that she has to. you're already wrapping your tongue around her digits, mindless and drooling. patrick slumps between your knees, tongue greedily lapping at the spurts of his cum lazily dribbling from your pussy, in time with art's thrusts.

the concrete sizzles against your back, sun warming your limbs—dried cum smeared on your cheek. you feel dizzy, you feel good. warm. this is everything you've ever wanted—everything you‘ve ever needed.

(your coaches really do know best.)

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Leave My Wife Alone (Art Donaldson)

Description: Y/N wants to Retire but Tashi isn’t okay with that.

Word Count: 753

Request: If you’re still taking requests could you write a fic for Art Donaldson pls: where he’s married to the reader who is a retired tennis player who Tashi became a huge fan of during college, when YN retires Tashi becomes bitter that she did and tries to pressure her into coming out of it, and it makes Art so upset that he confronts her about her about bothering his wife and her obsession with her life

Y/N Donaldson was a famous name through Tennis. Well Y/N Y/L/N was but when her and Art got married she changed her last name to his. The Donaldsons. They both were big tennis players, loved throughout the community. Tashi Duncan was Y/N’s biggest fan. They met in College and Y/N was surprised that when she faced off against Tashi she was a good sport about it.

Tashi was known for not being a good sport but since she was a huge Y/N fan she was honored. Thus began the friendship that they have now. Tashi and Y/N always talked about Tennis. It was their favorite Topic. When Y/N and Art got married Tashi was her maid of honor. “I want to retire.” She told Art as they ate dinner. Art was playing a challenger so they were at a luxury Hotel. “Are you sure?” He asked. She nodded.

“Yup. I’m 32 years old. I think this is it for me and I want to start a family.” The last part made him smile. Art always wanted kids but figured it would be best to wait for the right time. “Whatever you do I’ll support. I just don’t know about Tashi.” Tashi was gonna be heartbroken. “Well I’m sure she’ll understand.” Y/N said not believing her own words. “Will she though?” Art asked unsure. “I mean you’re still playing.” “Yeah but she doesn’t care about Art Donaldson, she cares about Y/N Donaldson.”

She smiles at the use of his last name after her first. She loved it. “I will tell her when the time is right.” Y/N said and got up with her plate. No time was right. They both knew that. As she was washing her plate she felt Art behind her. His breath was hitting her neck, “So is it too early to start thinking about a baby?” He asked. She giggled and turned around to face him, “Never.” She said and kissed him. He lifted her up onto the table and smiled against her lips. 

“So I’ve been thinking a lot about this and I want to retire.” She shut her eyes tight after she Tashi. Tashi felt the world stop. This was her biggest fear. Since she couldn’t play Tennis anymore, Y/N was her way in. “No. You can’t.” She said. “Tashi, I’m 32 now and I want a family.” “You have a family. You don’t need to quit Tennis for that.” Y/N looked at her as she ranted. “I mean you’re the best Tennis player right now, why stop now?”

“Tashi I understand but-” “If I could still play I would. I would have never thrown it away.” “Tashi I’m not throwing it away. Wait, is that what this is about? You can’t play Tennis so I should?” “No, I just think you still have a lot of years left in you.” “Art is still playing.” Y/N said. “Art is nowhere near as good as you are. I care about Y/N Donaldson not Art Donaldson.” 

Art was pissed. He knew that Tashi was going to be this way but he still had a little hope that she would be a good friend. “I mean she said that you shouldn’t quit because she never got the chance to play like this?” He asked. “It was implied.” Art was so mad at Tashi for implying that. It was sickening. He was wide awake when Y/N went to sleep. He stared at the ceiling as he thought about what Tashi said to his wife. How could she? Y/N was a great player but she deserved to be happy and not have Tennis be her life forever.

He got up quietly and took his phone with him. He went to Tashi’s contact and hit call. He waited as it rang. “Hello?” She answered. “Listen, I understand that you didn’t get your big dreams of Tennis but that does not mean Y/N has to suffer for it. What you said today was so uncool and you aren’t a very good friend.

You only care about Tennis and you are so obsessed with her career that it’s gonna kill you when she retires because you’ll have nothing left. You only care about one thing and it’s Tennis not her well being or anything like that. Just Tennis. It’s Pathetic Tashi.” He said and hung up the phone. He sighed and went back to the bedroom. He got in bed and could actually fall asleep. Though he wasn’t ready for what Tashi was gonna say tomorrow.

[bnecaz]

HEADCANONS ᯓᡣ𐭩

Art Donaldson x Fem!reader

warnings: Infidelity(tashi doesn't give a damn) I mentioned tashi more than I would like!! Smut

₊˚⊹⋆ Can't help but get clingy with you even when you're around tashi

₊˚⊹⋆ Who already knows that Tashi noticed the way his pupils dilate whenever you appear in front of him and don't say anything

₊˚⊹⋆ Who spoils you and recognizes this, always being mocked by Patrick about how you commented about wanting a watch and the next day having it in perfect condition on your wrist

₊˚⊹⋆ He insists on having you in the front row, so you can see him win or lose, as long as you have the best view

₊˚⊹⋆ He started winning more games after you started watching him play, Tashi doesn't complain and doesn't even hesitate to invite you when she can to watch him

₊˚⊹⋆ That he can't help but be worried when you leave without warning, calling you, sending you messages and even thinking about the possibility of coming after you, wherever you are

₊˚⊹⋆ He's an idiot and every time he finishes playing he comes to hug you, no matter how sweaty and disgusting he is, he knows the difference in strength between you and him, and he knows that you would never be able to get out of his grip (he just doesn't hug Tashi because he knows she would punch him

₊˚⊹⋆ begs you to try playing tennis, which doesn't happen because even though he plays weakly with you, you can't catch the ball at all

₊˚⊹⋆ He loves to grab you, no matter if you're in public or alone, when he sees you he just runs to your small body in contrast to his, and hugs you, your face hitting his chest

₊˚⊹⋆ Can't even hide how he hit the tip of the racket against him crotch every time you leaned over to get something he needed

₊˚⊹⋆ Who started winning over and over again after you started rooting for him, always looking at you and looking for validation and a thread of pride in you, like a puppy wanting its owner's attention.

₊˚⊹⋆ Who spied Tashi telling you that if you were having sex, or he was in love with you, it didn't matter, as long as you supported him in whatever he was doing because only then would he be able to win

₊˚⊹⋆ Who gave subtle hints that he wanted you to wear shorts and tight skirts, making a point of buying from the best brands and giving them to you as gifts with some stupid excuses like "Tashi had seen them in a store and gave me the idea of buying them for you" you don't even bother to pretend that you believed it, how are you going to believe it when he is stuttering, while his fingertips turned white from squeezing the straps of the bags with different short clothes

₊˚⊹⋆ That every time he wins a very important match he runs to you and Tashi and casts glances in silent permission to hug you

₊˚⊹⋆ begged you to join his team, Damn, he had money left over to hire 10 helpers but he insisted on hiring you to do what? get him water, accompany him?

₊˚⊹⋆ Who is noisy, you've always known that, and he knows that, always whimpering when he kisses you, and it was worse when you had sex, feeling tears streaming from his eyes whenever he was close to cumming, as he grabbed your waist and put his face in your neck

₊˚⊹⋆ Who needs to hear or tell you every minute that he loves you while he fucks you so hard and squeezes your wrist so hard that you know it will leave ugly marks that are difficult to hide

₊˚⊹⋆ During the day, he calls you different pet names like darling, baby, candy, or something so outdated that you'd want to vomit if he wasn't the one saying it, but while you're fucking he gets worse, whines for hours about how you are so good to him, and how you are the love of his life

₊˚⊹⋆ he is the definition of "make love" he doesn't curse you, and he treats you so well that it hurts

₊˚⊹⋆ loves eating you out, he simply gets drunk on your pussy, pulling you to his face and eating you like he's been hungry all week

₊˚⊹⋆ Always comes up behind you and rubs the visible bulge in his shorts against your ass, he has no shame on his face

₊˚⊹⋆ He rolls his eyes and moans very loudly when he cums, he simply can't control it and his body has a life of its own

[sceletaflores]

you need a seat? i’ll volunteer!

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader

summary: how much of a selfish douche does patrick have to be to not beg tashi to sit on his face every night? you certainly would.

—or: you show tashi what she’s missing out on…

word count: 3.7k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, girl kissing, oral (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving) but not really, cheating (i can't stop lmao), patrick catching strays, a hint of "there's only one bed" trope, kinda sad angsty wlw pining, like this got a little depressing at the end lmao, more plot than i thought it would have when i started writing it (i physically can't not write so much plot it's a disease), no use of y/n.

author's note: AHHH HAPPY PRIDE!!! this is purely self indulgent lmao no one asked for this but i just had to write it. this is my first ever wlw fic!!! I know, please stop clapping, it was my duty to post one during pride month. i'm still writing the homoerotic wlw friendship fic, i promise it's coming! i just wrote this one way faster than i thought i would lol okay hope you love it! mwah xoxo

You and Tashi sit across from each other on the bed of some fancy hotel room in Texas the night before a match against UT with a new, exciting charge in the air between you.

Actually, the two of you sit on the only bed in the room after a mix up with the hotel’s booking but “You girls are close, you don’t mind sharing? Right?”

Your coach was right, you don’t mind sharing at all. Not one bit.

You and Tashi were more than close. The two of you have been best friends since middle school, and playing tennis with each other just as long. Whether it was playing side by side or with one of you standing on the opposite end of the court. It was you and her, always.

You realized your feelings for Tashi Duncan were a little more than platonic when you were 15 years old. You were staying the night at her house, laying on her bed with your legs tangled together under the covers watching Mean Girls as Tashi idly braided your hair. It was during the Halloween party scene where Cady catches Regina and Aaron kissing when Tashi spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence between you. “Have you ever kissed a boy like that?”

You just shook your head silently, leaning further into her hands as Cady stormed out of the party on-screen. You didn’t know why she was asking you, you told her everything. If a boy kissed you like that she’d be the first to know. Tashi was silent for a few more seconds, tying off the end of your braid and resting her hands on your shoulders. 

“I could show you how,” she had said, “You know, for when guys want to kiss you like that.”

You immediately felt your heart start to race, palms suddenly sweaty. Her suggestion caught you off guard, but you think you heard that girls actually do stuff like that. It’s just practice, it’s not like it’s a big deal. Plus Tashi’s your best friend, you trust her.

You turned up to face her, searching her eyes for any hint of a joke, but you found nothing. Her face was earnest, bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she looked down at you, and her eyes filled with a mix of mischief and something deeper. 

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Tashi smiled, moving closer until your faces were inches apart. You closed your eyes as your breath mingled with hers, her hand settling softly on your jaw. The first touch of her lips was soft and sweet, sending a shiver down your spine. 

You gave in, parting your lips to let her tongue brush against yours. You felt something deep inside of you slot into place, like a missing puzzle piece finding its home. You got lost in the moment, mind going blank and fuzzy as your tongues explored each other's mouths. The thought of kissing boys suddenly felt unimportant and distant with Tashi’s lips moving against yours. 

All too soon she was pulling back, her face soft and flushed. “See? Not so scary,” she said with a smile, you swore you could hear a slight tremor in her voice. She brushed her thumb across your cheek once before she laid back against the headboard and cast her gaze to the movie still playing.

“Yeah…” you trailed off, leaning against her to watch Regina get hit by the bus. Your mind was still buzzing, the feel and taste of Tashi lingering on your lips.

That kiss changed everything for you, but the two of you never talked about it again. Tashi woke up the next morning as if nothing had changed, smiling at you over breakfast talking a thousand miles a minute about the new tennis club in town. It’s been years since then, years of pretending like you’re not really in love with Tashi Duncan, that it was just a phase. You just adore her so much, a totally normal platonic best friend kind of adoration, that’s all.

It’s well past the time you and Tashi should have been asleep by now, pre-match jitters and excitement keeping the two of you up late. You’d been talking for hours already, and somehow the topic has shifted into raunchier territory. Maybe later you’ll blame the pent-up energy for blurring your filter, but for now you were content swapping recaps of the latest hookups you’ve shared with Art for her stories with Patrick. 

The addition of Art and Patrick was definitely a new development in your relationship with Tashi. Two boys who thought they were being discreet following the two of you around the Adidas party all those months ago, taking turns chatting you up on the beach and inviting you back to their hotel room.

Then college started, and Patrick and Tashi were suddenly dating, and things sort of changed. Tashi was spending more time with him, leaving you alone to stew in your anger of feeling like the next best thing. Well not completely alone, Art was always there. In a similar situation as you, with Tashi taking up all of Patricks time when he’d visit campus. Leaving the two of you to sit in Art’s dorm sharing a handle of cheap vodka every time you got kicked out of your room so Tashi and Patrick could have some “alone time”.

Art’s hot, and he seemed to like you so it felt easy enough for the two of you to pair off like Tashi and Patrick did. You wouldn’t call it dating, friends with benefits fit better, but he was a nice distraction from the new Tashi shaped hole in your life, so you indulged. Tashi was overjoyed when she found out, so happy for you in every sense of the word. Constantly badgering you for details, like she was just before your conversation took a complete one-eighty.

“No way Patrick hasn’t asked you to do that before,” you ask a little too loudly, beyond shocked as you stare at Tashi sitting across from you on the mattress. 

She scoffs quietly, shaking her head as she picks at a loose thread sticking out of the comforter. “It’s kinda been all about him lately,” she trails off with a shrug, like that’s a good reason.

Fucking Patrick. You think bitterly, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. What a fucking loser.

You knew he wasn’t good enough for Tashi the second you met him. All flashy bravado and superficial charm, like a peacock strutting around with no substance. Tashi seems to like him enough so you bite your tongue at every dreadful detail she’s told you about their relationship, because you’re such a good friend.

Seriously though, how much of a selfish douchebag does Patrick have to be not to beg Tashi to sit on his face every night? 

You certainly would.

“Art and you do that a lot?” she asks nonchalantly, but her eyes have a certain look to them. One you can’t quite place, they’re sharper than they were before. Maybe even a tiny bit challenging, as if she’s daring you to go there. You were never one to back down from a dare, especially in front of Tashi.

You nod slowly, fingers toying with the edge of your shorts.  “A couple times.”

“How’s it feel.” She makes it sound like a question, you know her well enough to recognize that it’s more like a thinly veiled demand. Her voice is barely above a whisper but she may as well have shouted at the top of her lungs with the way it cuts through the space between you so sharply.

You see flashes of Art red-faced and needy as you knelt on top of him with your knees on either side of his head, of him spilling inside his boxers as you rode his face, using his tongue to get yourself off.

It has warmth pooling in the bottom of your stomach, thighs subconsciously clenching together. You imagine yourself in Art’s place, laying flat on your back as Tashi kneels above you, chasing after the taste of her with your tongue. 

“So good…” You whisper back, voice breathy like you just got done training. You can feel Tashi’s eyes on you, intense and persistent.

You meet her gaze, her familiar brown eyes dark and blown out in a way you’ve never seen before. She looks flushed, her cheeks tinged with the slightest hint of red. Her lips part ever so slightly, revealing a glimpse of teeth as she bites down on her full lower lip, a tiny gesture that sends a zing up your spine. It's like the room's temperature just shot up by ten degrees, creating a kind of heat that makes you feel light-headed.

Tashi’s stare is unwavering, it makes your skin crawl in the best way possible. She looks hungry, you feel a pang of unfiltered need shake your body like thunder. You’ve never felt deja vu before, but you’re guessing it feels something like this.

The offer slips past your lips before you can think of stopping it, “I mean…I could– I could like show you. If you want.”

For a second, there’s silence. All you can hear is the sounds of the city three floors below you flowing in through the window. The distant hum of traffic and faint chatter blend into a muted sound that underscores the tense quiet in your room. You hold your breath, forcing yourself to meet Tashi’s gaze. Every second that passes feels like an eternity, you’re inches away pretending it was a joke, from running away with your tail between your legs.

Then, Tashi’s eyes narrow slightly, her lips curling into a sly smile. She leans closer, bridging the small gap between the two of you, the mattress shifts under her weight. “Show me,” she murmurs, her voice an assertive whisper. The intensity in her eyes deepens, locking you in place. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears louder than the city noise outside. It wasn’t really a joke when you offered, but you never thought Tashi would actually call your bluff. You thought she’d just laugh, roll her eyes and call you gross with a smile on her face. You swallow hard, a mix of excitement and nerves churning in your stomach.

Tashi’s hand moves to your chin, gently bringing you closer to her. The electricity between you is palpable, a charged connection that sparks and crackles. Her thumb brushes across your lower lip, and you feel yourself leaning into her touch, your body responding before your mind can catch up. 

“Show me,” she repeats, her voice firmer now, a command wrapped in velvet. Her words hang in the air, thick with anticipation and promise. You nod, a small, almost unnoticeable movement.

“We- Art and I - we…uh, usually kiss before,” you try to sound casual. Tashi’s eyes soften, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

“Then kiss me,” she says. You can feel her breath on your skin, warm and inviting. You lift your hand, reaching out slowly. Your fingers brush against the bare skin of her arm, you’ve touched her millions of times before, but this one is different. It’s a hesitant touch that feels both daring and delicate. She doesn't tense or pull away; instead, she leans into your touch, her eyes never leaving yours.

Your throat feels dry, your mind racing, but you push through, your hand glides up her arm, tracing a path to her shoulder. Her skin is smooth, warm under your touch, and you can feel the slight tremor that betrays the relaxed front she’s putting on.

With every inch you cover, you feel more confident, your movements becoming more assured. You lean in, close enough that you can see the slight rise and fall of her chest, hear the faint hitch in her breath. 

It’s been years, but you swear her lips feel the same. It’s far from the slow, sweet, timid kiss you shared on her bed. The moment they touch yours, it’s like a jolt of electricity runs through your veins, reigniting a fire deep within you that never truly died. Tashi’s lips are soft, yet demanding, moving with a hunger that mirrors your own. You can taste the faint hint of her coconut lip balm and something that’s uniquely Tashi, a flavor you had almost forgotten but that comes rushing back with each second that passes. You lose yourself in the rhythm, the pressure, the way her tongue teases yours, exploring, claiming.

If you weren’t so fucking turned on, so fucking wet that you’re drenching your panties, you’d probably laugh. You’d laugh at how easily you ended up back here, kissing Tashi just because she asked you too. You wonder if she’s thinking about that night too, if she ever thinks about it.

Your hands find her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more needy. Without thinking, you drag Tashi onto your lap, her chest pressing flush against yours as her knees fall on either side of your torso. She responds quickly, her fingers tangling in your hair, grip tight enough to have you softly moaning into the kiss. 

It’s messy, wet, and consuming, with spit mingling as your mouths fight for dominance. Tashi still refusing to let go of the upper-hand even though you’re technically supposed to be the one showing her something, but you don’t mind. She bites your lower lip, hard enough to make you groan, sending a shock-wave of heat straight to your core. Her nails scratch against your scalp, pulling you impossibly closer. The air is thick with the sounds of your ragged breathing and the soft, breathy moans escaping your throats. 

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other, a small thread of saliva connects your lips before it falls and breaks.

“Show me,” she whispers again, this time softer, almost a plea. And with a newfound confidence, you nod, ready to give her whatever she asks for. 

“Off,” you say impatiently, tugging at the waistband of her shorts. Tashi’s eyes darken, her breaths coming in shallow, rapid gasps as she quickly complies, shimmying out of her shorts and tossing them aside. You waste no time, falling on your back so fast your body bounces on the mattress. You can hear the bed creaking as Tashi crawls towards you again, you can feel the warmth of her as she throws a leg over your hips and starts to make her way up your body. She pauses at your chest, hesitating. She looks down at you, her eyes more unsure and vulnerable than you’ve seen in a long time. You just smile softly, giving her a small nod and bringing your hands up to squeeze her thighs reassuringly. Her body is warm and firm beneath your palms. 

“Tash,” you whisper, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against her skin. “It’s just me.” 

Her eyes search yours for a second longer, the tension melts from her face, and she smiles. A real smile, not the fake one she gives pushy interviewers, one that reaches her eyes. Her vulnerability bleeds into tender determination as she gives you one sharp nod of her head and shuffles the rest of the way up your body.

With a sense of urgency, your fingers hook around the edge of her panties. Tashi’s trembling, her fingers digging into your shoulders, hips lifting slightly to aid you slide her panties to the side.

Being face to face with Tashi Duncan’s cunt feels euphoric. It feels right, like this is where you should have been all along. She’s so wet for you and so beautiful and so perfect and you can hardly wait to taste her.

You lean in, trailing soft, deliberate kisses along her inner thigh, feeling her shiver beneath your touch. Tashi’s breath hitches, a soft moan escaping her lips as you get closer to her core. Her eyes never leave yours, her pupils completely blown out and swallowing up the warm brown.

“Please,” she breathes, her voice strained with longing. The plea sends a thrill through you, has you feeling power drunk because the great Tashi Duncan is begging you. Begging you to touch her, begging you to make her feel good, begging you to make her come.

You lean your head up, you can feel her body tremble as your breath brushes against her. Your lips part, placing a soft kiss directly over her clit, making her squirm and moan softly above you. You flick your tongue out, teasing her, drawing more desperate sounds from her lips. 

The taste of her is intoxicating, flooding your senses and making you crave even more. She tastes like girl sweat, like girl sex, you moan into it, gripping her thighs hard to try in vain to steady yourself.

Tashi’s eyes flutter shut, her head falling back as your tongue slides through the wet slit of her cunt. Her response is immediate, lowering herself down against your tongue as a low moan escapes her lips. Tashi's hips start to move, instinctively seeking more, needing more.

You watch her through half-lidded eyes, mesmerized by the sight of her losing herself in the pleasure you're giving her. Her hands tangle in your hair again, guiding you, urging you on as you work your tongue along her slick entrance. The rhythm of her hips matches the movement of your mouth, and you can feel her growing wetter, absolutely drenching the bottom half of your face.

“Fuck, that’s so good,” she mutters, pretty face pinched in pleasure. You moan into her cunt, angling your head up to drag your tongue up her slit slowly until you reach her clit, sucking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue over it.

“Oh my God,” Tashi huffed. She opened her eyes and looked down between her legs, catching your glassy eyes with her own. The sight only made her grind her hips faster, “You’re so pretty,” She muttered. Your loud moan is muffled by her cunt, heart fluttering in your chest at her words. You can feel your hands start shaking with the intensity of the moment, way more intimate than it probably should be.

Her right hand lets go of your hair, shooting out to lace her fingers with yours. She squeezes your hand hard, gripping onto it like a lifeline as she rides your tongue. You respond in kind, using your free hand to guide her, to hold her steady as you delve deeper into her cunt, your nose bumping up against her clit. Her taste, her reactions, everything about her is perfect, and you can feel her body tightening, her muscles clenching as she gets closer and closer to the edge. 

Her other hand tightened its grip on your hair, pulling you closer as she threw her head back, a low, throaty moan escaping her lips. “Don’t stop,” she gasps, her voice breaking, “I’m close.”

You increase your pace, tongue working even faster over her clenching cunt. You lose yourself in her, in the rhythm of her movements, in the sounds of her moans and gasps. You need her to come, you need to see, need to feel it, need to hear it, need to fucking taste it.

And she does, her body tensing, then shaking as she cries out your name, the sound filling the room. You hold her through it, your tongue moving in gentle, soothing strokes as she rides out her orgasm, her body slowly relaxing under your touch. You keep going, tongue greedily soaking up everything she has to give you until she’s spent, her body going limp, her breath coming out in ragged, uneven gasps. 

Tashi leans back, blindly shoving her free hand down your shorts to delve between your slick thighs. Your hand grips hers harder, moaning out as her fingertips brush over your throbbing clit. Your eyes open to find Tashi already staring down at you between her thighs, the fancy hotel lights making a halo of light around her messy hair. She looks fucking ethereal.

You’re so worked up it only takes a few clumsy circles of Tashi’s fingers to push you over the edge. Back arching off the bed as you come, hips bucking up into her touch. Waves of pleasure crash through you as you soak your panties in your release as Tashi watches with sharp eyes. She keeps going, fingertips sliding over you with featherlight touches until you’re squirming away, thighs instinctively clenching shut.

Tashi falls back onto the bed next to you, the two of you laying beside each other trying to catch your breath. The room is filled with the soft sound of your synced heavy breathing, you can feel her hair tickling your neck from where it splayed out on the pillows.

“Patrick’s coming to the UT game tomorrow,” her voice breaks the silence, voice raspy and winded, “Art will probably be with him.”

Her impassive tone feels like a bucket of ice water dumped over your head. You look at her, but Tashi keeps her gaze trained on the ceiling, her chest rising and falling quickly. She’s sweaty, baby hairs sticking to her forehead, her face is stony. She closes her eyes, it feels like a door slamming in your face. Your heart sinks in your chest, dread starting to wrap its tendrils around you.

Patrick and Art. Their names hang in the air like a storm cloud threatening to burst, casting a shadow over the fragile intimacy of the moment. You swallow hard, trying to muster a response, but words elude you in the suffocating silence. Tashi speaks again before you can, “We should all go out to dinner after, like on a double date or something.”

You trace the outline of her profile with your eyes, the curve of her jawline, the faint sheen of sweat on her skin. Each detail seems sharper, more defined, as if etching itself into your memory with painful clarity all over again. You have to close your eyes too, scared if you keep them open that the tears burning your waterline will start flowing down your cheeks. All you can do is lie there, next to Tashi, and feel the weight of her words settle into the space between you, putting up a barrier you're not sure how to breach. 

“Yeah…sounds good.”

taglist!

@ebodebo @yuenity @artemis-b-writes @myahswrld

if you want to get tagged in any of my works just fill out this form!

[melancholicmelanin]

“With time and the right support, he could be a great player.” - Art Donaldson, 2006

[fruitjoos]

sweet revenge

stanford!art x stanford!tashi x reader

summary: you and art broke up months ago, yet you still can’t get over him. he moved on a lot faster than you thought he would. if you were going to be miserable, so was she.

warnings angst, slight bullying, maybe? i guess

You stood by the court, arms crossed, the early evening sun casting long shadows over the freshly mown grass. The tennis balls bounced in time with your heartbeat as you watched them, Art and Tashi on the other side of the fence, in their own little world. He leaned in close, whispering something that made her laugh, her hand lightly swatting his chest in that playful, teasing way that used to be yours. They exchanged love taps, barely noticeable to anyone else, but to you, they were searing hot brands pressed into your skin.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. You were supposed to be over this. Over him. It’s been months, months since the final, hollow “goodbye.” The final, “we’re not right for each other anymore.” Months since you swore you wouldn’t let him get to you again. But here you were, rooted in place, your chest tight with anger and pain, humiliation, longing. Why her? Why not you? Why did it seem so easy for him to move on, to laugh like that, to be happy?

Your hands balled into fists, nails digging into your palms as you turned away, unable to watch anymore. You hated the way he could still twist you up inside, the way seeing him happy with her made something bitter bloom in your chest. He was supposed to be yours, or at least the memory of him was. But watching him with Tashi only solidified one thing: it’s over. Really over. And it would never happen again. No second chances. No rewinds. You told yourself that over and over, but the mantra didn’t stick. Instead, it made your blood boil.

That’s when you started making Tashi’s life difficult. You couldn’t stop Art from moving on, but you could make sure she didn’t enjoy it. In the locker room after practice, you waited until she wasn’t looking, then scraped her expensive deodorants into the trash. You moved one of her tennis shoes to the opposite side of the locker room, making her late for warmups. You cut in front of her in line at lunch, bumping into her just enough to make her spill a drink. When she complained—oh, how you reveled in her complaints. You just ignored her, pretending you didn’t hear, didn’t care. You wanted her to feel what you felt: powerless, insignificant, alone.

But one day, Tashi went to Art. You didn’t see her that afternoon, but you heard from someone else that she’d been crying. And that, apparently, was enough to spark Art’s rage.

You didn’t expect to see him standing outside your lecture hall that day, not after all this time. His tall frame blocked the doorway, his expression dark as he waited for you to pack up. He didn’t say a word as you slung your bag over your shoulder, but when you walked toward the door, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. Hard. Hard enough to make you stop, hard enough to make your pulse skip in a way you hated to admit. The force of his grip sent a shiver up your arm, part fear, part something that still simmered just below the surface.

“Leave Tashi alone,” Art said, his voice low and sharp. His words were clipped, his anger barely restrained, and for a moment, you were stunned. Not by what he said, but by the way his touch still made your heart flutter. You hated that he still had this kind of hold over you, even after everything.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, batting your eyelashes and feigning innocence. You tried to pull your hand free, but he only tightened his grip. There was a flash of something in his eyes, something that told you he wasn’t buying it.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” he snapped, his voice rising slightly. “Tashi told me everything. The stupid deodorant thing, the shoes, bumping into her—” He listed off every petty, vindictive thing you’d done in the last few weeks, and you felt a slight satisfaction that he noticed. That he cared enough to confront you about it.

But your face remained blank, a mask of boredom. You stared at him, expressionless, as though every word he said was just background noise. The little games you played with Tashi were nothing compared to the way he had gutted you, left you behind like you were just some phase in his life he was done with. You blinked slowly, taking in the storm in his eyes, feeling something close to triumph in the fact that he was this worked up.

Then, just as quickly, he delivered the final blow. “Hating her won’t make me love you again.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, winding you. For a split second, your carefully constructed walls cracked. He didn’t even realize the impact his words had, didn’t stay to watch the devastation in your eyes. Art let go of your wrist and shoved your hand away like it was nothing, like you were nothing, before turning his back on you and walking off into the distance without so much as a second glance.

You stood there, frozen, as his words echoed in your mind. Hating her won’t make me love you again. He had walked away before, but this felt different. Final. The sting of rejection, of abandonment, was overwhelming, and you realized with a sickening clarity that he had moved on. He was never coming back.

Your throat tightened as you watched him disappear down the hall, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. All of the venom you’d been spewing, all the petty revenge, suddenly felt hollow. Useless. The truth was, you didn’t hate Tashi. You hated what she represented. She was everything you weren’t, everything you used to be, when Art still looked at you the way he now looked at her. She had the life you used to have, and no amount of sabotage or cruelty was going to change that.

And now, you were left with nothing. Not even the hope of him coming back.

[sluttyenthusiast]

Ugh just imagine being Patrick's cute little girlfriend and you eventually find out that he's cheating on you with Tashi,

Unbeknownst to Patrick you befriend Tashi behind his back, and eventually you manage to get her back in your room, under her.

You bring up how Patrick is your boyfriend, and panic arises in her eyes as she begins to squirm under you.

You hold her wrists down from above her, laughing it off as you tell her it's okay, but Tashi isn't fully convinced,

Tashi has no time to think about your words before your trailing down her body, yanking her thighs apart and chuckling about how wet she's gotten for Patrick's girlfriend, you take your time with her though, making her cum twice on your fingers and twice on your tongue.

Tashi is actually crying, it feels so good that she's forgotten about Patrick in the first place, you've made her cum harder than she ever has before.

[kisses4kaia]

phone sex with tash.. yeah…… (ps. dedicated to my fav ever @hvneybuckin love you aiden💕)

you knew from the moment she breathed “hey, baby.”

your eyebrows furrowed, but you stayed quiet. “hi, tash. how ‘s your day?” she hummed. “fine, i wish i could have seen you, though. practice was as practice always is. art asked about you?” there was a sigh—slight, sultry, and quiet—but you caught it.

“yeah? how is he?” you sit back onto your bed, clicking your bedside lamp off and crossing your free arm over your sweater-clothed chest. “he’s okay. he and patrick have been arguing for a little bit, though.” you nodded to yourself, although tashi couldn’t see you. “they’ll get over it. they’re best friends, they always do,”

you seem to be able to sense her agreement through the phone, and you tell her a little bit about your day.

“and you know, it was so funny. i saw a poster of you in the hallway—from the adidas campaign, you remember—and i was just thinking ‘i need her inside of me.’ which, of course, is preposterous considering… you know—“

“don’t be so naïve. i’ve been inside of you, you know that.” you’re so grateful you decided to give her a phone call tonight rather than a facetime because your eyes are wide and your cheeks burn at the memory of tashi fucking her strap into you. “i do…” your voice is much higher than you would’ve wished, but it made tashi chuckle on the other end of the line.

at this point, your hand was already snaking down your torso, teasing the hem of your boy shorts. “you want me inside of you, do you?” she goads, and you can feel the humiliation setting in. “mhm,” you squeak meekly, and she sighs. “well, it’s too bad i’m not there to help you.” tashi speaks the words like it’s hopeless and impossible and you whine, fingers beginning to push past the elastic of your shorts. “n-no, i can… imagine,” your pitchy whine pulls a groan from your lady. “imagine? good girl, baby. such a problem solver,”

the praise sets your core ablaze and your pointer and middle finger lazily begin to circle around your clit, sliding up and down your slick slit. “do you remember the last time i touched you?” she pinged, voice ringing with a sort of early satisfaction, like this was her goal from the very start.

“n-no… not really. sorry, tashi,”

you absolutely remembered, in vivid detail how and where she touched you last, but you could do with the inflection of her voice upon reminiscing with you. “oh? do you need me to refresh your memory?”

you whined, nodding before remembering that she couldn’t see you. “mhm, please.”

she hummed. “well, i fucked you with my tongue first, you remember that?” you whined, growing more and more slick against your fingers as she spoke. “and then i had you suck on my cock, had you wrap your pretty little tongue around my dick—got it all fucking nice and wet and messy, didn’t you?” her tone was spitting, making you moan so fucking pathetically, she laughed.

“yeah, then i bent you over your shiny little vanity in your daddy paid for, made you watch your pretty face as i sunk deep, deep into you, remember? remember how many times i made you cum around this cock? you were fucking dripping onto the hardwood by the end of it, you little cockslut. all for me, right?”

“yes,” your fingers were pumping in and out of you so fast, the sounds were audible to tashi on the other end of the call. “yes, what?” her voice was mean, demanding, and nearly tear-jerking.

“yes, daddy,” the sex in your voice drew a deep groan from tashi, and it pushed you over the edge. “ngh—fuck! i’m coming, please, please please please, i need it—!” you didn’t know if you were talking to yourself or to her but her never-ending praise into your ear through the phone speaker kept you in convulsions.

coming down from your high, you drew your fingers out from your panties and thanked tashi, all before bidding her goodnight and virtual x’s and o’s.

1 Video Attachment from tashi🤍

the notification was unexpected, as you had just ended the call, but you decided to tap on it anyway.

your mouth went fucking dry as you watched tashi’s golden-complexioned hand stroke up and down the same, big, deep blue, strap-on she’d fucked you with last time she was in town. the video ended with a flash up to her face, coy smile playing on her lips.

tashi🤍

You’re the best girl for me. Love you baby❤️

[jointherebellion215]

Okay, this may be a hot take, but I'm so sick of the "Art immediately forgives Tashi and Patrick for cheating and they all live happily ever after with no issues" trope that's become common in Challengers fanfics.

I know that people are so in love with the polyamorous-coded nature of Tashi, Art, and Patrick's relationship, that they completely forget what's a reality in the story. It also spreads misconceptions about polyamory, because while poly relationships are ethical, cheating is inherently unethical. Cheating and polyamory are not synonymous.

Poly relationships can work because there's constant communication and, most importantly, there's consent with all parties involved. There should be, like in every relationship, a level of trust between everyone.

Now, Art and Tashi are assumedly not poly. They are in a monogamous marriage, which dictates romantic involvement of two people and two people only. Regardless of any feelings that may occur with a third or fourth person, they are in a one-on-one relationship.

Tashi and Patrick deciding to get together multiple times without Art's knowledge or consent breaks that fundamental level of trust Art and Tashi had. It's a betrayal. Art should be allowed to be pissed off. Livid, even. I know that Art is seen as a very passive, submissive character compared to how assertive Patrick and Tashi are, but he shouldn't be a complete doormat. Everyone deals with hurt and pain differently, but there's been a general consensus among the fics I've read that were like "Yeah, that happened, but nobody talked about it or fought and everything was fine!" which is so ??????

Let him be angry. Let him be hurt. Let him hold a grudge for a little while. There can be tension and arguments and conflict before all is well.

There can be consequences.

[artydonsgf]

tashi duncan, my poor villainized girl i love you so😭😭😭 everyone wants to write patrick n art WHERE ARE THE TASHI STANS… so i present to you, tashi duncan as your gf, wife, and a small nsfw bit because im in love with her

Tashi Duncan as your Wife

- when you meet tashi, you’re smitten immediately

- shes charismatic, she’s beautiful, she has kind eyes, and an ambitious personality

- talking to her makes you feel on top of the world

- you start out as friends, and while you have feelings for her, you don’t want to be the asshole who befriended her just to fuck

- you’re content listening to her rants about her games, the latest sponsorship deal that has her face slapped on it, and any other tidbits she has to share

- you two are chilling at her dorm one day, cuddled up in bed like always

- you want her and it’s obvious but out of respect, you stay in the same position as always and don’t dare mess up your friendship with your feelings

- she turns to you with a serious look on her face and you worry, this is when she’ll tell you that she’s sick of your obvious feelings

- instead, she looks strangely vulnerable

- she asks you if you’re only here because of her status

- you’re confused and she immediately tells you that nearly all of the people she hangs out with are only there because she’s good at tennis

- before you could even tell her how wrong she is, she backtracks and says nevermind

- you reassure her that tennis could disappear tomorrow and you’d still be at her side forever

- you’re not a tennis player and you couldn’t really care less about the sport, you’re only there for tashi

- when the injury happens, you stay true to your word

- the first few months of recovery are hard but you two are glued at the hip

- you play with her sometimes and you know it makes her feel better because she beats you every time

- makes her feel like she’s not a loser just because she can’t play professionally anymore

- you start dating soon after, it only felt right

- an amazing girlfriend

- very direct and if she has a problem with the way things are going or your behavior, she’ll set it straight immediately

- she’s not trying to lose you so she’ll ground her teeth through uncomfortable conversations if it means you’re stronger together at the end of it

- enjoys romantic gestures, both receiving it and giving it

- staunch believer of the tashi duncan words of affirmation agenda

- absolute queen with her words, she makes you feel like the most loved person on planet earth

- she proposes to you the very night you planned to propose to her

- you exchange rings and immediately plan a small wedding

- having an intimate wedding is the best thing in the world for her

- spending the day surrounded by the people who truly love her and not what she can do for them

- values privacy and despite how famous she still is, she’ll never put you in the public eye unless you’re 100% down

- excited to announce that she got married to you, she’s so very cute

NSFW

- praise QUEEN

- you do anything n she’s praising you for it

- likes to be dominant but if you really work for it, she’ll let you take over

- your arguments are very rare but on days where you’re both being really petty, yall just fuck it out

- you’re too exhausted at the end of it to even remember why you were arguing

- founder of munch nation

- she just likes making you feel good

- complete tease when she’s feeling particularly dominant

- makes you work for it and if you work enough, you’ll be rewarded real good

- aftercare with her consists of a very good shower where she washes your hair, puts good smelling lotion on you, and cuddles you to oblivion

- after you guys change the sheets ofc, she’s not sleeping in that mess

- isn’t really into quickies, she prefers taking her time with you

[b0r3dtod3ath]

hello :) will you write something fluffy with tashi duncan and reader? thanks!

Thanks for the request! I didn't really know what to write so here's a thing I created:

Tashi Duncan fluff alphabet:

Affection (How affectionate are they?)

Quite affectionate when in private but she still has problems with it. Sometimes in the evening after a long day she will come to you and let you hug her. In moments like this she fells weak but the comfort you provide her makes all problems go away.

Bonding (What's your favorite mutual bonding activity?)

You like when she teaches you how to play tennis. At first she didn't want to do it because she felt like she was obsessed with it before and it would ruin your relationship. When she finally gives in, she's the most gentle trainer ever. Delicately adjusts your posture, softly points out mistakes and how to fix them and gives you lots of praise. You make tennis feel like fun and not competition.

Cuddling (How do they like to cuddle?)

She loves cuddling while on the sofa or bed. In the beginning of the relationship she was always the big spoon but she eventually found comfort in being the small one from time to time.

Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

She definitely wants to settle down. Insists on buying a house or at least a flat when the relationship gets more serious. She wouldn't let you clean and she wouldn't like to do it either so she would get a maid. If you like cooking, she's in love with it and the sight of you in the kitchen always makes her heart melt. She doesn't mind, if you don't.

Equal (Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?)

She's the dominant one but gives you a lot of space and is much softer than she was in previous relationships.

Fight (Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?)

She doesn't scream or throw hands when she's mad at something. She tends to say rude things or point out things that aren't necessary true. Once she notices she has hurt you she immediately tries to fix it. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what it was. I don't mean it, you know it.". She will try to hug you but if you need some time she will leave you alone.

Gifts (How do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

She loves giving you gifts. Matching jewellery!!! Anniversary? A ring. Got a promotion? Pearl earrings. Birthday? A diamond necklace that's more that you thought she can afford.

Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often? What are their hugs like?)

Quick hugs and a peck on a check in public. In private, every evening there's a cuddle session that ends in you two falling asleep.

I love you (Who said it first? How often do they say it?)

She said it first. You were the first person she had ever said it to. You were already dating for more than half a year and you knew that her not saying it didn't mean she didn't feel it. When she said it she felt very vulnerable but it's a sign that she trusts you endlessly.

Jealousy (How jealous do they get? Do they get jealous easily? What do they do when they are jealous?)

She gets jealous very easily. You usually notice it and calm her down. She would be very obvious - would tighten her grip on you or change her tone towards the third person.

Kiss (Do they like kissing? How often? What is their favorite type of kiss?)

She wouldn't say she enjoys kissing but she does. From small pecks to heated make outs. She loves your lips and would gift you lip balms to make them even softer. Her favourite thing is when you kiss her neck - it makes her melt.

Love language (What’s their love language?)

I think it's either quality time or gift giving. She's usually busy so when she gets a moment she loves to spend it with you and no distractions.

Morning (How are mornings spent with them? What’s their morning routine?)

Definitely slow mornings. Yoga or stretching together, a healthy breakfast and some time spent on the couch.

Nickname (What do they call you?)

Doesn't like nicknames but will call you love from time to time.

Obvious (How obvious is it that they like you?)

Very obvious. She changes her whole tone when she's around you. She becomes more soft. Big hearteyes. People can easily notice it.

PDA (Do they brag about you? Do they gatekeep you from others?)

She is very proud of you and will show you off all the time. Won't be really affectionate in public tho as she thinks it should be something between you two.

Quiet (How are the calm, quiet moments with them?)

Usually the mornings and evenings are really calm and quiet. You both have you routines that consist of some activities that you do together and some that you do alone. You two like to have soft music playing in the background.

Romance (How romantic are they? Cliche or creative?)

Very cliche. She would bring you flowers every week. Candle lit dinners are definitely something that happens regularly.

Security (Are they protective? How?)

Very protective and very jealous. God forbid someone looks at you in a wrong way, they are done. She won't leave you for even a second. If you get injured by any chance, she is more stressed than you are.

Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

She doesn't like talking about tennis. She feels like it ruined her relationships in the past.

Understanding (How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?)

She can usually sense something is not okay but can't really tell what. She doesn't always fully understand you but tries her best and believes in communication.

Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Depends. If she's going out than she always tries to make herself look good. But when it's only you two she doesn't mind not being the prettiest. She loves matching outfits with you.

Warrior (Would they fight for you?)

Definitely. Maybe not always with hands, but she would for sure scream or say some pretty rude things if someone hurt you.

X-ray (How well are they able to read you?)

Like I said, she tries but prefers to ask you rather than assume how you feel.

Yes (Would they and how would they propose?) 

She loves the idea of her and you creating a family. She would buy a diamond ring and have it hidden for months. She wouldn't make a big deal out of it and plan it. She waits for a good, calm moment and one evening while you are in the garden she just pops the question.

Zen (What calms them down?)

When she can lay her head on you chest and feel your heartbeat. She loves to listen about your day as you lay and caress her back.

April 28, 2024

[glassmermaids]

vogue had crowned her sports bride of the century after tennis superstar tashi duncan tied the knot with fellow tennis player art donaldson in an intimate yet breathtaking ceremony.

[castiwls]

Better man .ᐟ

Paring; patrick x reader

Prompt; 'i hold onto this pride because these days its all I have'

Requested; no

Notes; requests are open again!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

You hated the way your heart seemed to pick up when you’d opened the door. The way you could feel your chest tighten slightly as you stood in shock for a moment.

You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t do this. For your own pride you’d promised that if Patrick zweig ever came knocking you would slam the door and not look back.

And you’d been so close to doing it. So close to saving your own pride but he’d been quicker.

He shot you that same boyish smile which used to make you melt, the same smile he’d used when he’d told you that nothing had happened.

The same smile he’d lied to your face with.

He’d stood there with that smile and his best impression of a kicked puppy as he’d pleaded. “Just for tonight. I haven’t got enough for the motel.”

You knew you should have shut the door. He survived just fine without you normally so there was no reason to take him in - yet a small part of you couldn’t do that.

You couldn’t leave him in his car all night, it was cruel.

Maybe Patrick deserved it - a part of you thought he did - but one look at his face and you were folding.

Patrick had happily made himself at home as you’d watched from the kitchen. His eyes stayed locked on you from where he sat, his fingers drumming against his leg subconsciously.

“Whatcha makin’?” You jumped slightly at the sudden closeness of his voice. You hadn’t even heard him cross the space from the couch to the fridge where you stood.

Patrick grinned slightly his fingers brushing your waist as he leaned over your shoulder to look at the contents of your fridge.

“We could get take out?” He mused like this was normal. Like it was normal to be discussing dinner options with your ex-husband on a Tuesday night.

“Can you pay for takeout?”

“I can pay you back.”

A sigh left your lips as you closed the fridge. “C’mon that pizza place you like is open.” He pressed as you turned to face him. “Just gimme a week okay? A week and I’ll pay you back.” He leaned down slightly, his nose almost touching yours as he spoke.

His voice was quiet, the same tone he used whenever he wanted something. A tone you’d come to realise he used when he knew he was in the wrong.

He’d used the exact same one in Atlanta when he’d reappeared at 6am. “Nothing happened. Just went for a walk.” He’d said as he continued to pepper kiss across your neck.

You’d barely been able to get a word out before he’d managed to pull you under him and quickly make you forget anything besides white-hot pleasure.

You’d should have ran then and there but you didn’t. You didn’t because you loved him and a small part of you thought that maybe he loved you to.

He’d come back to you still. Hadn’t he?

“Five days.” You said after a moment, swallowing down the pit growing in your stomach as old memories flashed through your mind. “You have five days Patrick.”

He huffed moving back but nodded. “Alright. I can do that.”

“Great.”

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

Patrick Zweig was the worst person alive.

He was the worst person alive and yet you still found yourself shifting towards him subconsciously.

By the time you’d both finished the food his arm had somehow found home on your shoulder and your head had somehow ended up on his chest.

His thumb rubbed absent circles into your shoulder as you both watched the movie.

Well, you watched the movie. Patrick seemed pretty engrossed in watching your expression as you watched the screen. Your lips were drawn into a slight pout as your fingers absently fiddled with the sleeves of your (his) hoodie.

“You're not gonna make me sleep on the couch hm?” His lips ghosted over your ear as he spoke. You shifted slightly so you could face him.

A small sigh escaped you as you took in the pleading look on his face.

You knew you should push him away. You should be firm that he was staying on the couch.

He’d broken your heart and trust in the worst way possible yet seemed to be able to weasel his way back into your life no matter what you did.

The worst part…you still loved him. You loved the way he still held you like he used to, the way he wanted to sleep in your bed.

He’d continued to come back to you even after you’d pushed those papers in front of him.

He did almost everything right but you knew deep deep down that he knew he was in the wrong for that night.

Somewhere in there was a better man and you sometimes got a taste of that.

Patrick smiled, his thumb brushing your cheek.

He had you hook line and sinker yet…

“I am.”

His face fell ever so slightly and for a moment you saw the same person who had stood in your kitchen and declared that he had done nothing wrong. The same man who had looked you in the eyes and told you that you could never be her.

You may have been a weak person when it came to Patrick but you still had just enough pride to enjoy the look on his face as you stood from his hold and grabbed a duvet and pillow from the cupboard.

“Goodnight Patrick.”

[lacy-oh-lacy]

Imagine being Tashi's manic pixie dream girl...

₊˚⊹♡ Like she just wants you to be the best tennis player you can be, but you just want her to find literally one other thing in life that she's passionate about

₊˚⊹♡ So you make a deal, that you'll cooperate and take her increasingly intense training seriously IF she experiments with random hobbies with you until she finds one that sticks

₊˚⊹♡ It's literally so romcom-coded, her being reluctant at first then slowly falling in love with you along the way until she realizes there is one thing she's more passionate about than tennis: you

[sceletaflores]

— CHALLENGERS M.LIST

all works are 18+ MDNI!

— SERIES

triple fun that way (a.d & p.z)

|| you always thought love triangles were supposed to be more romantic than this. at least that's what people have told you, but maybe they just didn't know what the fuck they were talking about.

TASHI DUNCAN

— ONE SHOTS

↬ Advantage, Duncan.

|| tashi needs you to understand that she doesn't give a fuck about patrick...

↬ you need a seat? i’ll volunteer!

|| you show tashi what she’s missing...

ART DONALDSON

— ONE SHOTS

↬ Baby, show me where it hurts…

|| art donaldson needs a therapist...

↬ isn’t it messed up how i’m just dying to be him?

|| art tries to get through to you about patrick...

↬ well three's the only number we know! feat. patrick zweig

|| things shift between art, patrick, and you...

— BLURBS

sub!atrick thoughts

dry humping w. needy art

virgin!art and his breeding kink

PATRICK ZWEIG

— ONE SHOTS

↬ “Dependence Is Weakness, Darling."

|| it's been a little over twelve years since you've seen patrick zweig...

↬ where there's sparks, there's fire!

|| patrick zweig is a slut, you can't stand him…

↬ slippery when wet!

|| patrick puts you in you place three months later…

↬ well three's the only number we know! feat. art donaldson

|| things shift between art, patrick, and you...

— DRABBLES

sub!artick thoughts

first son patrick au

phone sex w. first son!patrick

patrick stealing your underwear

patrick bending you over the bathroom sink at a house party

© sceletaflores 2024 - all rights reserved. please do not modify, repost, or translate any of my original work. none of my work is permitted to be reposted on any other platform.

[melancholicmelanin]

"You’re talented, sure, but no one’s actually taught you anything." - Patrick Zweig, 2006