#tennis chic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jesuistrestriste · 10 months ago

Text

♡ Cooking & Cleaning; Art Donaldson x Reader ♡

nsfw! (18+) cw: service sub!art donaldson, dom!reader, afab/fem reader, use of ma'am as an honorific, brief food play, oral sex (reader receiving), begging, handjob, brief edging, praise, degradation, multiple orgasms (character receiving), dry orgasm

wc: 6.3 k (whoops)

note: this was pulled from the most depraved parts of my brain. i refuse to be held accountable for the absolute filth this contains ! :)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆.

The very second that your key is in the apartment door and you're finally home, you find your legs nearly collapsing underneath you as you step inside and kick off your black kitten heels.

"God," you groan, shutting the door behind you before you move to peel your chic new blazer off of your shoulders. You toss it onto the coatrack nearby and bring a handful of your fingers up to your forehead to rub at it tensely, sighing deeply.

It had been a long day at the USTA (United States Tennis Association) office, and all you wanted to do was come home and see your husband.

After Art had lost several important and consecutive tennis matches, as well as his confidence on the court (despite his actual tennis skills still being phenomenal -- he just psyched himself out too much), he had decided to give up his life as a professional athlete.

At first, this devastated you. Not only did you love your partner and believe in him throughout his career, as well as believing in his very real ability to eventually win the US Open, but this decision of his also meant that your position as his coach would become obsolete..

You actually became quite anxious about you and Art's future at the time.. you had needed a purpose, and so did he. You both were just those kinds of people; you and him both wanted to feel that you were contributing to something bigger than just yourselves, and that you were being useful to someone or something.

Luckily, his many previous years of successful tennis playing had scored you and him a shit ton of wealth. Like, genuinely a lot. You were beyond grateful, but you still wanted a life of your own. You didn't dare to think about the idea of becoming a stay-at-home wife while he went out and did whatever he wanted. Yuck. It just wasn't for you.

Your fears and inner turmoil about this change in your lives were quickly eased once Art had sat you down about two weeks after he had left his tennis career behind. He had taken your hands in his, smiled softly like he always did, and told you that he wanted to stay at home and take care of everything in it while you went out and continued your career in the field of professional athletics.

Of course, you immediately and excitedly agreed with the idea of this new plan, and then that was that!

You two developed new lives and new roles as people over a short period of time, but it didn't take away from the love you two shared. That always stayed consistent and at the center of everything.

Eventually, after a month or so of coming home from your new job to Art doing things like vacuuming the wooden floors of your guys' expensive New York apartment, or making elaborate protein-packed smoothies for the gym sessions that you two still did together, you came to realize that the whole "house husband" persona was actually kinda hot.

He had realized it too. Quicker than you had, actually. In fact, he can distinctly remember the overwhelming feeling of heat that had pooled deep in his gut the first time he had ever served you a home-cooked meal after you came home from a long day at your new job. He had gently rubbed your sore feet that night while you ate, and then suddenly couldn't find a way to deny how this new practice of.. servicing you.. made him feel.

I mean, God, he loved doing that stuff for you.. cooking.. tidying.. pampering.. washing.. he would do it all. You knew that he worshipped the ground that you walked on—reminding yourself constantly of the time he had admitted to you during sex that he believed he would be "nowhere without you"—and you devoured the increased sense of power that came with it every. single. time. It eventually became very easy and comfortable for you to let him take care of you. You grew hungry for it.

And then this persona of his, over time, dissolved into something much more intimate..

After tossing your blazer on the rack and rubbing at your temples, you drag your pantyhose-covered feet across the floor and into the kitchen.

Your nose is instantly filled with the aroma of fluffy, vanilla sweetness and a bit of nutmeg. you sigh happily as you turn the corner and see Art standing over a mess of what appears to be flour and sugar in a large bowl on the kitchen counter. He looks over his shoulder briefly with a smile as he mixes the dry ingredients together with a whisk.

“Hey, hon,” he grins, before turning back to look down at his current baking project.

you shuffle up behind him and hug him, your cheek pressing against his warm upper back as your arms reach to wrap gently around his abdomen. You sigh deeply.

“Hey, babe.. ‘m so tired. It was such a long day.”

He laughs softly, which shakes you a bit as you hold him.

“What’d your colleagues do now?”

You shake your head against him, groaning dramatically.

“I don’t want to talk about it.. what are you baking? It smells good in here.”

“Nothing crazy, it’s just some holiday cookies. I found the recipe online this morning after you left.”

“How many are you planning to make? There’s already some in the oven,” you ask, peeking around his frame from behind to see him set the bowl aside and wipe his hands on the apron he’s wearing. (It was white with small pink hearts by the pockets. You got it for him when he started cooking for you everyday, and he used to feel weird about it. He said it made him feel “slightly emasculated”, but he quickly grew to absolutely adore it. It was just another way for you to claim him as your personal chef. One night before you got home, he jerked off while wearing it, but he would never tell you that.)

“I don’t really know,” he shrugs and chuckles sheepishly, “there are twelve baking right now, but I thought that maybe I could make some for our neighbors.”

You chuckle softly, your hands disconnecting from their place on his stomach to reach down and give his ass a small squeeze. He jumps a little at the feeling, embarrassed laughter bubbling up in his chest.

“Where’d all this holiday cheer come from?” you smirk, pulling back from your position against his back to lean your hip against the counter. You just wanted to look at his pretty face. Your eyes quickly fixate on the fact that he’s got a bit of flour on his flushed cheek.. It’s only a small puff and smear of the white substance near his jaw, but for some reason it starts a flame in your lower stomach. There was just something about the way he got a little messy when he cooked or baked for you.

His cheeks plump up in shape ever-so-slightly as he grins at you.

“I don’t know.. I had time before you got home- I mean, well, before i thought you’d get home, and so i thought I’d just-”

You take a step forward, nodding at his words while your body is now only inches from his. You look up into his glassy blue eyes.

“You thought you’d just.. what?” you purr, your hand coming up to caress his lower back.

He swallows thickly, briefly looking down at the mess on the counter before he looks back to you. His body temperature is steadily rising as he feels your fingertips caress him over his loose t-shirt.

“I just thought I’d make some more,” he whispers.

You lean in, reaching your other hand up to gingerly hold the side of his neck while you press a kiss to it.

“You’re such a sweetheart, aren’t you?”

He nods, slowly, his eyelids fluttering slightly at the feeling of your mouth on him.

“I..I mean, yeah, I guess.”

You lean in a bit more, sucking softly at his neck. His head lolls a bit forward, and you nip at him when the sound of his shaky breathing reaches your ears.

You pull back, a small smirk covering your face as you look up at him.

His focus darts from your eyes to your lips as he reaches both of his hands out for your waist, but he’s rudely interrupted when the timer for the oven goes off— cookies are done.

You both nearly jump out of your skin at the sound; the incessant beeping pulling you both out of the thick fog of tension between your bodies and minds.

“Shit,” he mumbles, flushing pink from his cheeks to the tips of his ears as he turns off the timer at the top of the oven and moves to hastily grab an oven mitt from the lower drawer.

He pulls open the oven door, and you step back to watch him pull the tray out and set it on top of the stove area.

He sighs, pulling off the mitt and setting it aside as he leans over the cookies. His eyes are inspecting each one, and he has a very focused expression plastered on his face. He was as much of a perfectionist in the kitchen as he used to be on the court, that was for sure.

Your body moves in to stand beside him, also peering down at the tray of gorgeous golden-brown cookies. You place a hand on his upper back, rubbing it encouragingly.

“These look incredible,” you say, smiling at him.

He nods, still inspecting them, “They look better than I thought they would.. I actually messed up earlier and accidentally added three-fourths of a cup of sugar instead of two-thirds..”

“They look perfect, don’t stress.”

He looks to you, his gaze meeting yours and then suddenly everything was back to how it was before the timer went off. His hands reach for your waist, squeezing at your hips as he looks lovingly down at you.

“Be proud of yourself, Art.. you did a good job,” you laugh softly, your hands reaching up to cup his face. He pulls you closer.

“I am.”

“Are you?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

You suddenly get a very filthy idea.

“Can.. can you tell me what the recipe called for?”

His brows furrow slightly as he seems taken aback by your request, his cock already starting to stir to life in his sweatpants just from holding your body. He didn’t want to talk about the damn cookies anymore.

“What?”

You roll your eyes, one of your hands dropping from his face to reach around the fabric of the front of his apron and grope him over his sweats. Your other hand moves down too, but just to gently hold the side of his torso. His whole body jolts forward and his lips part instantly.

“You’ll like where this is headed, trust me. Just talk to me.. tell me what you did to make the cookies look so perfect..”

He breathes unsteadily, his fingers digging into your waist as he feels your hand start to work his cock up to a full-blown, hot, twitchy erection.

“I.. uhm.. I just..” he breathes out, his eyes growing lidded as he absentmindedly bucks up against your touch, still trying to maintain eye contact as pleasure starts to flood his senses, “one cup of b-butter.. ngh-!.. two cups.. two cups of flour… and then- ugh!- two.. two-thir-r-ds.. of..”

His voice trails off, shaky and low and broken as he hangs his head a bit, leaking incessantly into his boxers. It was that easy for you to work him up.

You frown, “Uh oh.. come on, baby, don’t go nonverbal on me that quick.. we’ve just barely gotten started…”

A small whimper leaves his chest as he tries to finish his words, “Two-thirds, I m-mean- three-f-fourths of a c-cup of.. s-su.. sugar… one teasp’of vanilla.. and.. o-one.. teaspoon of nutm-eg.”

You smile, stroking his cock over the fabric of his pants, “Good boy.. God, you’re so pretty when you’re slurring for me..”

He moans obscenely, melting at the praise while he feels his length grow suddenly intensely hot. A certain kind of numbness starts to creep over his crotch before his hands are flying from your hips to your wrist.

“Wait! W-Wait!” he gasps, his eyes squeezing shut as he blows a concentrated shaky breath from his lips, his fingertips digging into your arm.

Your eyebrow lifts and you smile as you take in the way his body shakes and shudders as he holds it in for you. He knows how to behave.. what would make you happy.. what would make you disappointed.. After all, he’s been trained by you in more than just tennis.

“Close?” you whisper.

His body starts to slowly relax again as he regains some of his composure. He blinks his eyes back open slowly, looking into yours.

“Very,” he groans.

You pull your hands from his body, and he whines softly.

“Take off the apron. Put it on the floor.”

You’re sure you’ve never seen him move so fast— his hands reaching behind his back and undoing the tied string. Then, he pulls the apron off over his head, tossing it off to the side. He watches you study him with parted lips, and he bites onto his own.

“Now take your sweats off for me.”

He does as he’s told; his shaky fingers reaching down to slip his pants down to his lower thighs, and then down to his knees and ankles, and then he steps out of them. He kicks them gently next to where the apron was thrown, now making a mess of grey and white fabric where both items pooled on the kitchen floor.

You step close to his body, cupping his face before running a hand through his messy strawberry-blonde locks. But it doesn’t take long for your eyes to travel solely down to the bulge prominently pressing against the inside of his navy boxer briefs. You run a fingertip up and over the outline of his dick, relishing in the way it makes him shake. He was now just in his tee shirt, boxers, and white socks, while you stayed fully clothed. But not for too much longer.

"My pretty husband.." you coo to him, making his lips part to let out a few uneven breaths. You glance around his frame and notice a bowl off to the side that had remnants of the soft cookie dough from the first batch of the cookies. You smirk.

You lean forward and swipe your thumb along the inside of the bowl, gathering some of the sugary, buttery mixture on your digit. His gaze remains lidded and locked onto your face, not finding any importance in your hand's movements at the kitchen counter. You bring your thumb back in, showing him what you did.

He spares your thumb a quick glance, but then his eyes are back on yours, and then your lips, and then the way that your breasts are peeking out from the low-cut collar of your work top. You bring your thumb up to his mouth.

"Open," you whisper.

He does as he's told, parting his lips further and leaning in to encourage your finger to slip past them.

You push your cookie dough-covered thumb into his mouth, feeling him immediately begin to suckle on it; his tongue swirled over it, and his eyes fluttered shut right after they began to roll back. His brows furrow, and a couple of faint whines bubble up out of him as the taste of his homemade sweetness melts seamlessly on his palate.

While your thumb is in his mouth, you push it down softly on his tongue.

"Knees, baby," you say breathlessly.

Art knew this command like the back of his hand.

Effortlessly and steadily, he dropped down to his knees one after the other, keeping your digit in his mouth the entire time. He didn't dare let it go. He moved to sit on his calves.

"Good job.. good boy..."

He whimpered, the vibrations of his pathetic sounds causing your hand to buzz slightly.

"I want your mouth on my cunt.. can you do that for me, darling?" you purr, running your hand through his hair for a moment. He nods around you.

"Y'sh, m'm.." he mumbled, trying his best to speak while still relishing your touch with enough attention.

You pull your thumb from the heat of his wet mouth, and smirk as you watch his lips chase after it.

"What was that?"

You already had a good idea about what he had murmured, but it was just.. best to be sure.

"Yes, ma'am," he gasps out softly, his eyes glazed over.

He reaches up and pulls at your skirt, shimmying it down and over your ass and thighs, letting it fall to your ankles. You kick it aside, and lean your back against the countertop. Art positions himself on his knees so that he's on the floor in front of you, looking up at you. His hands shakily reach up to the sides of your pantyhose, his tongue licking out over his bottom lip. He digs his fingers into the taut fabric and looks up at you once more, beginning to pull them down.

Immediately you grab his wrists, halting his movements. His eyes look up into yours, worried that he had made a wrong move, but you shake your head with a soft smile.

"You can rip them."

He doesn't even mean to, but he moans when you give him permission to be a little desperate right now.

In an instant, his strong hands are pulling needily at your tights, causing them to rip from your crotch to your lower thighs. He hooks one of his index fingers into the inside of your panties, his thighs tensing up at the feeling of your wetness, and then he's pushing them to the side. His tongue rests out over his bottom lip as he leans in, holding the back of your leg with his free hand as his eyes flutter shut and he engulfs your heat with his mouth.

"Oh, fuck-!" you yelp, reaching down to tangle your hands in his soft curls, "fuck, fuck, that feels good, Art, don't stop.."

He moans, his eyes squeezed shut as he lathes his tongue up and down and over your wet hole. He lewdly sucks and swallows your slick that's quickly spilling over his tongue, trying to focus harder on your pleasure (and less on the feeling of his cock throbbing rapidly in his boxers.. he can feel himself leaking).

You remove your hands from his hair and move to unsteadily grip the countertop, your back pressing hard against it. Art hums around you in his mouth, moving his tongue up to lick sloppily at your clit. He opens his eyes, his brows furrowed, and looks up at you.

"God, you're so good at this.. you're doing so well.. i'm getting.. close.." you breathe out, studying the upper half of his face while the lower half remains buried in your pussy.

He doubles his efforts, smushing his face deeper against you, his lips pursing to suckle against your sensitive nub as his grip on your leg tightens. Art has half a mind at that moment to just scoot forward a bit and slot your ankle between his thighs, but he won't. You came first, in his mind. Literally, and figuratively.

You sling the leg that he's holding over his shoulder, giving him more access, and then you begin to feel an overwhelming, hot numbness creep over your lower half..

"ANGH!" you moan loudly, squeezing your eyes shut as your body begins to shake. Your fingers grip the kitchen counter so hard that you're afraid you'll break a nail.

"I'm going to cum, Art..!"

"Mm! Mm-mm!"

"I'm.. oh my god.... I'm... I'm-! Cumming-!" you whine, feeling your orgasm crash over you.

"MM-!" he laps at your pulsing cunt, squeezing his eyes shut before forcing them open so that he can watch the way your beautiful face moves to contort in ecstasy.

You groan and whine as your orgasm's aftershocks are uncomfortably prolonged by Art's relentless tongue, and your hands release the marble countertop to reach down and grab two soft fistfuls of his hair. You try to tug his head back from your cunt, but he just closes his eyes and presses his nose and mouth further against your core. The repetitive movements of his tongue over your folds cause lewd, wet noises to fill the kitchen.

"Art... A-Art..! Enough!" you slur out as the pleasure from before starts to melt into a prickly sting of oversensitivity.

His eyes flutter open and you shoot him a warning glance as he peers up at you.

"I said enough, yeah?" you snap, "stand up."

He immediately pulls his mouth away from your sticky body and stands up on shaky legs. His eyes look downward, guiltily avoiding your gaze, as he wipes at the clear slick covering his chin with the back of his hand.

You try to catch your breath for a moment, studying his chest as it heaves up and down -- him trying to catch his breath all the same. You reach out and take his lower jaw softly in one hand, forcing him to look at you properly.

"You got a little fucking greedy there for a minute.. didn't you?"

He bites his bottom lip for a second, nervously chewing on the inside of it as he debates what answer he could give that would result in the least amount of punishment from you.

"Did you hear what I said?" you whisper coldly, taking a step closer to him as your hand grazes against the erection standing proudly in his underwear.

His body automatically jolts forward, and he lets out a shaky breath as his brow twitches. "Yeah.. I did.." he huffs out.

You smirk, wrapping your hand around him over the dark blue fabric, "And what do you think, hm? Were you being greedy?"

He looks deep into your eyes, his lips parting as he feels you start to stroke him. He tries to stop it, but his hips start to shallowly buck against your grasp, and now he can't get any words out. He wants to, but he just.. he really can't.

You roll your eyes.

"You know what I want you to say, honey. Use that big brain of yours."

He moans softly, his hands coming up to hold the sides of your upper arms as his eyes grow lidded.

"I'm.. I was being greedy.. I'm greedy," he moans lowly, thrusting into your hand a bit quicker and with a tad bit more abandon.

"Yeah, yeah you are. You're a greedy little whore for this, aren't you?"

He nods slowly but repeatedly as his brows pinch together and his breathing picks up.

"Yesss," he says brokenly, his voice straining a little as his moans start to become whimpers and whines, "I'm.. s' greedy for you.. jus' for you.. mm..!"

You nod and smirk up at him as his face becomes pinker and pinker, "That's it, pretty boy.. good job. You like when I stroke your pretty cock?"

He lets out an obscenely loud moan as his abdomen curls in over itself a bit, his hands gripping the sleeves of your work top and pulling helplessly at the fabric as he feels a spurt of precome burst into the inside of his boxers.

You chuckle a little as you watch him visibly get closer to his climax, but then he suddenly releases the hold on one of your sleeves and urgently grabs the hand that's moving over his clothed length.

You look down to where his hand holds yours, and he lets out a filthy whimper as he pulls your touch off of him and then urgently pushes your hand past his waistband and down into the front of his boxers. You gasp at his seemingly impulsive actions, feeling your fingers finally come into contact with his slicked-up cockhead. Your fingertips just barely brush over his hot, leaking slit.. sliding over a thick glob of pre.. and then he's being sent over the edge. To the average person, the touch would be essentially imperceptible, but not to him.. not to Art. He was just far too sensitive.

Your husband lets out a startled cry as he doubles over your frame in front of him and frantically moans, his whole body trembling and tensing as his balls draw up, "I'm cumming!"

You don't even have time to really process what's happening until you feel your hand being covered in warm fluid, the substance dripping down your fingertips as Art basically comes untouched. You look up at him, dumbfounded, before you feel your abdomen grow warm and tingly. That was kinda.. hot?

"Jesus, baby," you whisper breathlessly as his hips jolt a few more times before stilling as he gulps air down into his lungs, "didn't realize you were that worked up.. that was a little quick, no?"

He moans softly, still feeling your fingers graze him inside of his boxers.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.." he says, his breathing hitching in his throat as he tries to get the words out in spite of the pleasure still thrumming through his veins. He was still rock hard.

You smile, quickly using your clean, opposite hand to pull his boxers down to his lower thighs. His length slaps up lightly against his stomach before bobbing out in front of him, a tiny pearl-like bead of cum still leaking from his tip. He sighs shakily as he looks down at himself, and then up at you. You wrap your cum-covered hand around the base of his shaft, causing Art to jerk forward from sensitivity. He pulls a sharp breath in, his face scrunching up a little as he tries to control his body.

"I'll let you cum again," you start, watching his eyes light up, "but! you need to give me a warning this next time, okay? I want a clear warning, love."

He nods at your words, a more serious expression plastering over his face, "I will, I promise.. I.. I can give you a proper warning, ma'am.." he whispers.

And with that, you slide your hand from his base to his tip in one smooth motion, your thumb gliding over the head.

"GAH-!" he shudders forward, hissing in pain for a moment before he starts to moan again.

"You okay? Can you handle this?" you ask, your tone soft but seductive as you try to tease him but also legitimately check in. You two were always good at looking out for the other's wellbeing during your sessions together; the exchange of love and tender-care came easily to you both-- it was never something either of you had to question.

He nods, "Yeah, yes-ss, I can t-take it.." he slurs a little, watching your hand move up and down over his throbbing length.

"Look up into my eyes, darling," you purr, your hand starting to pick up speed, "does it feel good?"

He meets your eyes, his blue ones swimming with lust and desperation as he felt the beginnings of his second orgasm start to creep in, "Yes, fuck-! Yes! It feels so fucking good--!" he whines.

"Remember what we just talked about?"

He nods fervently, sucking his plump bottom lip in between his teeth as his focus darts from one of your eyes to the other. You speed up your hand, squeezing his shaft a little more to give him some pressure that you assume he needs.

He keens instantly, a loud moan rumbling from his chest as his thighs start to shake and his eyes squeeze shut.

"Art," you murmur in a seductive but warning tone.

He shakes all over, nodding his head, before his back stiffens up and he becomes incredibly tense. You keep your hand moving at the same fast pace, hoping his memory today is as good as his stamina.

"I'm going to cum," he whispers quickly, bringing his hands up to hold onto your shoulders as he pulls you closer.

You smile in approval, leaning in close to his ear and breathing warmly against his skin as you speak softly, "thank you for telling me, angel. do you want to cum for me?"

He nods, whining out a hasty "mhm". He lets out a breathy moan as he feels your hot words against his upper neck.

You press a chaste kiss there, and then you slide your hand up to gently grip his shaft while your thumb moves to rapidly swipe over his frenulum.

"Come."

And he does just that.

Art's back arches as soon as your one commanding word reaches his ears, cumming uncontrollably with an abrupt cry of pleasure. At first, his body is incredibly rigid as he lets go, his brows pinched up together as he feels the first, pulsing waves of his orgasm hit him, but then the full sensation of his release hits him and his whole body shudders deeply. He lets out little breathy moans and gasps as he relishes in the bursts of pleasure rolling over his cock. You slow your thumb down a bit as you watch him spurt rope after rope over your hand and onto the kitchen floor as he comes undone for you a second time.

"Fucking hell," you moan, now going back to stroking him fully instead of just rubbing a digit against his tip.

He grits his teeth in an instant, being pulled from his afterglow by the feeling of your hand forcing him back into a feeling of overstimulation. "Ah-! Ah!.. T-Too much, too much," he whimpers, his hands instinctively reaching down from your shoulders to push at your hand that's currently working him towards a third, uncomfortable orgasm that he's not even sure he wants anymore.

You use the hand that's not stroking him to move his hands away from your occupied one, giving him a small shake of your head.

"Hands behind your back, please. We're not done yet, okay?" you coo.

He quickly follows orders, moving both of his hands behind his back and away from his aching length, although not without letting out a sniffly whine of protest first.

"Please, ma'am.. I'm.. I can't do it I can't do it-- I'm-- AH!"

You cut off his soft moans of agony with a brief squeeze to the base of his dick, looking intently up into his eyes through your lashes.

"If you really want to stop, baby," you tilt your head teasingly, "you can always use the safeword, yeah?"

He bites his lip before he lets out a warped cry, his head lolling backwards in the same instant. You stop moving your hand.

"Art, darling," you whisper to him comfortingly.

He brings his head back upright to look down into your eyes, his face blank with pleasure; he almost looked drunk. His eyes were glazed over, his cheeks were pink, his hair was a mess, and his lips were parted to let out harsh little breaths of air as he tried to regain some semblance of being grounded in his own, ruined body.

You reach your free hand up to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb over the side of his face.

"Does it really hurt that bad? You know that you can be honest," you whisper, now a little concerned that maybe you pushed him too far.

He thinks for a moment before shaking his head slowly and swallowing a bit of drool that he realized has been collecting in his mouth for the past minute or so, "N-Just a little.." he breathes out.

You nod, giving him one soft stroke of his come-covered cock. He gasps and his torso jolts at the sensation, faint tears springing to his eyes.

"Sorry, sorry," you hum, "should we stop here then? I think maybe that would be best for you.. you've already done so well for me.."

The latter half of your sentence, that subtle bit of praise, gives him all the motivation he needs to want to unravel again.

He looks down at his still-hard cock, and then back up at you, and shakes his head. His tongue pokes out over his bottom lip and wets it as he tries to collect his thoughts.

"No.. no, I can do- I can go again, ma'am.. I pro-promise.." he slurs out, thrusting up into your hand.

You raise a skeptical brow at him and his movements, keeping your hand still.

"Are you sure? You know that I won't be upset with you if you want to stop, Art."

He shakes his head again, his lip trembling, "Please."

You smile softly and start to move your hand up and down over his cock again. Despite his previous indications that it was painful, the feeling has now seemed to morph back into unfiltered pleasure as he lets out a high-pitched moan of your name. He babbles endlessly, a mixture of pleas for more, letting out repetitive mumblings of "feels good", and "yes", and an assortment of stuttered expletives.

It doesn't take long for Art to get close again.

"I think 'm gonna come again," he mumbles, letting his eyes fall shut as his head slumps forward against your shoulder. You stroke him quicker, focusing on his hypersensitive tip as you feel a drip of precome come out.

"Oh? You want to come again?" you tease coyly.

You could be cruel sometimes. He had known that this part was coming eventually.

He shakes his head against the crook of your neck with a whine, "don't do this, please.."

You stop your hand at the base of his cock, halting his orgasm just as his load started to rise up his length. Art bites back an obscenely loud moan of protest that is dying to be let out..

"No, no no noo," he squirms against you, repetitively shaking his head as his face remains buried in your neck.

"You know what you need to do, darling."

"Please," he moans, "let me come.."

"You want to come?"

"Yes."

"You do?"

"YES..!"

"How should I make you come?"

"Can y- keep stroking my- I want my cock to be- I-" he mumbles incoherently.

You place your free hand on the back of his head, pushing your fingers pleasurably into his hair as he trembles against you.

"You want me to keep jerking you off? Hm?"

"Y-Yes-ss!" he moans out brokenly, using every bit of restraint within himself to resist the urge to move his hands from behind his back and relieve his aching parts.

He would never do that, though.. no matter how much he wanted to. He would always follow your wants and needs first. Those were most important to him.

"Ask me for what you need again. Nicely; just the way I like it."

"Please, can I come?"

"Again."

He whines, his hips involuntarily bucking up against your stilled hand wrapped around him.

"Please," he sobs, "can I please come for you?"

"Yes, honey, you can come."

You start to stroke his cock once again, and within just a few pumps Art is releasing again. Even though you can't see them because his face is still in your shoulder, his eyes roll all the way to the back of his head as he lets out a couple pitiful squirts of white, sticky liquid over your hand. "Ooh, that's it.. good boy.. are you my pretty little slut?"

When Art hears this, he isn't exactly sure what happens, but it's like the orgasm that's already halfway finished just completely starts over.

"Ohh my fucking- oh my god-dd-! Ugh! HNGH-!"

It's like every single nerve ending in his body is lighting up at once, and he can't do a damn thing about it.. he can't stop it...

His legs nearly go limp underneath him, and he has to lean further into you to prevent himself from collapsing.

Art then releases the most pornographic moans you've ever heard and tenses up in your hold all over again. You're not really sure what's happening until he--

"I'm cumming again! I'm cumm-m-ing-! Again! Ohmyfucking--! GOD!"

He whines and sobs against your body, his arms still held behind his back as you feel his cock jump and pulse in your hand again. This time, nothing comes out. It's odd because it's clear that he's cumming for a fourth time, but there's nothing to show for it.

You slow your hand but continue to stroke his length which is now covered in the creamy-white filth of his previous loads. His cock softens a little, but you're unsure when his orgasm ends because, again, nothing is coming out.

Art's frame suddenly begins to jerk around every time your hand brushes over his tip, and he lets out a hiss of discomfort through his gritted teeth and a sniffle afterwards. As soon as you hear that, you know he's done and you quickly remove your hand. Any extra stimulation and he'd genuinely start to cry. You could save that for another time.. if he wanted you to.

You move your other hand from his hair to his clothed upper back and rub small, comforting circles over it.

"I've got you," you whisper, "you did such a good job, baby. You just came dry for me."

He nods, sniffling wetly and exhaustedly.

You continue to rub his back for a minute or so in silence as he comes back down to earth; the pleasurable waves of his release's aftershocks allowing him to bask in the ebb and flow of it all as he tries to calm his ragged breathing.

"I feel weak," he groans softly.

You nod, "I'm right here, you're okay.. take some deep breaths for me, honey."

He nuzzles deeper against your neck and sighs contentedly, the fuzziness in his head starting to dissipate with your caring words and gentle touch.

"You're my good boy," you whisper, pressing your cheek against the side of his head.

"Mhmm," he hums, "always for you."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆.

notes; WOAH. ok. so this has been like months in the making by now i think..? but i finally finished it :D thank u so much to everyone who has been patiently/loyally waiting for this one after i teased it for over a month on this blog 😭 + thank u to anyone who gave me some kind words of encouragement when i had to put this aside for a while. i luv u guys !! <3

reblogs are always allowed + appreciated!

3K notes · View notes

alonetimelover · 4 months ago

Text

So High School - part 2

read part 1 ------》 here

pairing: tennis player!reader x Lando Norris

fc: Iga Świątek

summary: Lando keeps pursuing his attempts at scoring a date with THE YN YSN - to the enjoyment of his on-track besties. But nobody has better days on social media than his haters. And sometimes being passive is not an option - you need to silence them.

warnings: internet hate

F1 masterlist taglist

🏎🥎🏎🥎🏎🥎🏎🥎🏎🥎🏎🥎🏎🥎🏎🥎🏎🥎🏎🥎🏎🥎

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, yourinstagram and 2 001 292 others

f1 Padel, tennis or maybe carting? Which of these sports are the best and worst to try for our drivers - Lando, Max, Fernando and Daniel, and our special guest at the British Grand Prix - YN YSN? Stay tuned and watch what they all were up to right before the Grand Prix start on Sunday!

view all 23 100 comments

ynsmybestie YN YNYNYNYN YSN

ynsmybestie she is finally AT THE RACE

landogirly yn's going to be lando's lucky charm or he's going to be so stressed it's all over

landonorris best challenge ever

⤷ oscarpiastri are you saying that because of what I think orr??

⤷ landonorris shhhh Osco

⤷ oscarpiastri you're very ungrateful to the person that gave you the place in this challenge

⤷ landonorris LOVE YOU OSCAR

danielricciardo how did we lose playing 4 against 1????

⤷ maxverstappen1 Because you couldn't stop talking!

⤷ fernandoalo_official We played against world No. 1. Maybe that's why. Oh, and landonorris couldn't stop tripping over his feet

⤷ landonorris thank you, my racing father. you embarrass me like my own father

fernandoalo_official Great playing and speaking with you, yourinstagram!

⤷ yourinstagram the pleasure was mine!!!! thank you for all the tips during the race 🧡

⤷ fernandoalo_official Any time! I hope you'll enjoy your time during the race and will come say hello!

ynsmymama not yn only responding to nando's comment

⤷ landogirly lando can do everything and he's still ignored

⤷ norizzfan well, let's have hope he can step up his game

comment liked by landonorris and 4022 others

⤷ ynsmyno1 not lando liking norrrizfan comment 💀

landofan77 not Oscar giving up this challenge so Lando could have a chance with yn

—————————————————————————————————

f1gossippage

liked by landogirly, ynsmybestie and 40 292 others

f1gossippage A little story thanks to our followers from UK!

1st picture: Lando meeting some fans right before entering one of the London's restaurants (very chic and date-like outfit).

2nd picture: a fan caught Lando and some woman entering the photo booth together and stayed to take this photo! Looking rather cozy!

3rd picture: IG story from YN YSN deleted mere 2 minutes after posting! The outfit awfully similar to the one wore by Lando 😏

4th picture: Lando during today's stream "I just came back from the dinner, guys. let's chat" "yes, the date was amazing, thank you for asking!" "I've never said I was at the date. what do you mean?" "Oh no."

Could that mean something? New wag alert? Let's keep watching!

view all 1 088 comments

landogirly I mean it checks out but I can't believe that lando could get THE YN YSN... like let's be real

landogirly BYT if it's true... THE BEST COUPLE IN THE PADDOCK

ynsmybestie one time yn posts something not related to tennis and it gets deleted... and it's also A MAN 🤢

ynsmymama let it be true let it be true let it be true

landofan92 no way

landofan99 he did not bag a baddie like yn, no way

formula1fan93 yeah, no. that did not happened

ynysnfan833 ewwwwww get that away from me

ynysnfan911 really? an f1 driver? she could do much better

—————————————————————————————————

mclaren

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 1 003 292 others

mclaren Our newest addition to the papaya family has arrived!!!! YN YSN (yourinstagram) - WTA No. 1 player has joined Lando and Oscar for their Silverstone fanzone hour! Tune in to our YouTube channel to follow it live!

view all 10 392 comments

landogirly look at lando being all smiley and giggly and blushy 🤭 he has the fattest crush on yn

landosarmyohmy PROTECT THEM AT ALL COST

ynsmybestie not yn saying "well, my favourite driver was and always will be Sebastian Vettel. Fernando is a close second" and then not wanting to say her third favourite!!!!

⤷ landogirly i bet she wanted to say lando (im delusional)

ynsmymama lando saying, "i don't care what people say about me as long as they're not bringing other people down with it. what you want to say about me - say it. and at the same time, you can be respectful about it, can't you?"

landofan99 BEST FANZONE IVE EVER ATTENDED

landoscarfan77 the more I see them interact the more I think there's something going on between them

⤷ ynsmybestie they do have some chemistry going on

⤷ landofan99 wasn't it confirmed that yn went on a date with lando?

⤷ ynsmybestie well... most likely, it was true, but there are no pictures of them together being at the same place

landofan729 LOOK. AT. THEM.

—————————————————————————————————

ynupdates

liked by ynsmybestie, landogirly, danielricciardo and 8 393 others

ynupdates YN congratulating Lando Norris (F1 driver) for his podium finish at the Britidh Grand Prix! photo posted by Lando's father!

view all 638 comments

landogirly AHAHFIRKDNXJIWKSKD

landogirly fuck offfff

landogirly look at himmmm, crinkles by the eyes, hand placement, the JOY IN HIS EYES

ynsmybestie yn once again fulfilling the dreams of her fans

ynsmymama I wasn't on this really but... I SHIP IT

landoscarmyohmy but the video, THE VIDEO, how she just falls into his arms (as if she did that multiple times already), he's little "oh, hi" when she places her head on his chest, her quiet "congratulations, you did so good" and OSCAR in the background grinning like a devil

⤷ ynsmybestie was it also posted by lando's dad????

⤷ landoscarmyohmy yes, it was! he is the captain of this ship!

hater93 another one to put on the list of "seeing an f1 race to just find a driver dumb enough to go out with me"

hater993 why would I care man

hater839 lowlifes found each other

⤷ danielricciardo didn't know you met YN and Lando yourself

⤷ oscarpiastri oh yes, lowlifes of the best tennis player in the World right now and the guy who won an F1 race and is competing for a championship. such lowlifes

ynsmymama Daniel and Oscar backing Lando, THATS FREAKING RIGHT, THESE ARE MY DRIVERS

—————————————————————————————————

landogirly

liked by ynsmybestie, ynsmymama and 7 493 others

landogirly LANDO AND HIS PARENTS ARE AT YN'S MATCH AT WIMBLEDON!!!!!!!!!!!!! it is happening my loves. IT. IS. HAPPENING.

view all 349 comments

ynupdates lucky charm?

ynsmymama please bring mother luck, please bring mother luck, please bring mother luck

landofan75 that man will be everywhere but at the sim room practicing his starts

landoscarmyohmy meeting the parents???????

⤷ ynsmybestie yn met lando's parents at the silverstone race!

landofan588 he looks so gooooooood *drooling*

landofan686 watched it and his dad smirking at lando after every time that lan cheered for yn!!!!!!!! that was everything to me. e v e r y t h i n g

—————————————————————————————————

Twitch: Lando and Max talking and playing COD!

—————————————————————————————————

yourinstagram

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo, oscarpiastri, lewishamilton and 810 292 others

yourinstagram trophies, cars, some love and nature

view all 18 494 comments

ynsmymama A MAN????????

ynsmymama a love letter

ynsmybestie she won wimbledon, she has A MAN, she is happy, she is in love, SHE IS EVERYTHING HE'S JUST KEN

landogirly no fuckin way no fuckin way no fuckin way

landogirly HOW DID IT HAPPEN?????

landogirly also not you trying to soft launch when we all know who that man is

norizzlan lando norris wrotes love letters??????? who is this man

landoscarfan85 WTF

danielricciardo i didn't know you loved OUR picture this much

⤷ yourinstagram how could I not? ;)

oscarpiastri happy to see my stickers being used properly

lewishamilton watching you win more and more titles is truly inspiring! you are the force, YN!

⤷ yourinstagram thank you, seven-time world champion, record-breaking driver and my favourite dog dad!

⤷ lewishamilton waiting for you to break more records! roscoe is waiting for more belly rubs!

fernandoalo_official come to the race when i'm on the podium, princesa!

⤷ yourinstagram i'll blow max's tyres and we're good

⤷ maxverstappen1 hey! i thought we were friends

landonorris keeping cuddles for noir!

⤷ yourinstagram snacks are better to bribe him

—————————————————————————————————

f1gossippage

liked by landofan85 and 20 393 others

f1gossippage Lando Norris seems to be enjoying his free weekend accompanied by his new beau - YN YSN!

view all 1 074 comments

landogirly fucking disgusting to take pics while people are having such a PRIVATE moment

ynsmymama "new beau" google YN and call her accordingly to her accomplishments

ynsmybestie creepy to post these type of pictures

landoscarfan85 not a moment without a camera pointing right at them.... disgusting

landofan854 wine, dine & shine

landofan664 can't get used to lando being all lovey dovey

hater85 waiting for her to flop just like him

hater92 focus on your job

—————————————————————————————————

landonorris

liked by yourinstagram, oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and 1 001 399 others

landonorris new beau, focusing on my job and looking for a better man

view all 24 430 comments

landogirly HAHAHAHHAAHHAHHAHHAH

landogirly that's the biggest "fuck you" to the haters that i've ever seen

ynsmymama oh i love him, your honour

norizzlan someone found his rizz and used it perfectly

landoscarmyohmy using haters favourite words to make your relationship public? ICONIC

ynsmybestie loved the soft launch for the first 8 pictures and then BOOM - the queen's here

danielricciardo no problem for taking those photos, no problem!

⤷ landonorris what photos?

⤷ yourinstagram tickets for the Olympics matches are waiting for you, danny

⤷ danielricciardo you are my best friend

oscarpiastri YOU'RE WELCOME

lewishamilton treat her right

⤷ landonorris 🫡

fernandoalo_official yourinstagram, will i see you more on the track?

⤷ landonorris apparently we don't have time to visit each other at our jobs so....

⤷ yourinstagram i sent you tickets for my next match

carlossainz55 5th picture is your bedroom

—————————————————————————————————

should I add more drama to this or just leave it here?

—————————————————————————————————

#f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fic #lando norris social media au #lando norris one shot #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff

406 notes · View notes

boschianacc · 6 months ago

Text

TENNIS PLAYER COLLECTION 🎾✨

🌟 Step onto the court with our chic 'Tennis Player Collection' and give your Sims a fashionable, athletic edge! 🎾✨

Get it now!

🔗DOWNLOAD💕 ✅

🌼 MORE DOWNLOADS | TERMS OF USE | SUPPORT 🌼

295 notes · View notes

spectra-bear · 9 months ago

Text

future interpretation of the gang, ill prolly add jacob later on, but i really like how it came together with the help of @giantrobotslug

(notes below)

- The burners here are in their mid to late 20s

- claire officially moved into motorcity, rocking her own style (smth like cyberpunk/futurepunk? with a mix of retro space chic, and racer outfits as well, similar to the amazons episode) i will probably design more outfits for her since shes so fun to draw

- dutch works along the cablers with tennie, so he picked up a bit of their equipment into his everyday outfit (outside of driving), always has his mask and wrench on him, but also uses a coat from time to time when taking time alone to make art

- texas picks up workout, and gains weight and strength, but his suit's sleeves cant fit his arms in, so he just ties them by the waist and calls it a day lol

- julie around this time has already cut off ties from kane, completely changing her look, piercings, a nine lives cat sleeve tat on her left arm, and a burner flame tattoo sleeve on her right arm (that i forgot to add) matching mike

- mike's still holding onto his iconic jacket with a few stitched up rips here and there, loosely worn with the bottom tucked in, he keeps his sleeves folded to show off his tattoo, plus practicality, he also has his spark staff clipped to his belt

this was the second time i drew him, since his first draft looked kinda off

- chuck takes up a more loose/casual and comfy look, with a coat resembling the design for his matching ride, blonde thunder, he also has longer hair

#tattoo idea for mike was designed by @r0b0t1me #motorcity #azzy art #this was so fun to do #art #fan art #mike chilton

199 notes · View notes

taylorswiftstyle · 10 months ago

Text

Super Bowl LVIII | Las Vegas, NV | February 11, 2024

Wear by EA 'Bomber Jacket' - $140.00

Leading up to the Super Bowl, many TSSers have asked for a predictions post of what I thought she might wear. Truthfully? I didn’t think one was necessary. Not because the occasion isn’t a huge and momentous one - but because Taylor’s Super Bowl style has followed such a reliable formula that a predictions post felt like oversetting expectations. We love a ‘work’ uniform created in mind for a setting. And in Taylor’s ‘rookie season’ of sportsball spectatorship, she’s developed a great one.

With that, my predictions heading into this day was something black, red, with a touch of gold and a ton of sentimental value to it. Which is what we see on display here.

The combination of a black base + WEAR by EA jacket + black bustier top to me immediately harkened back to her third game - Broncos vs Chiefs on October 12 (check stories for a micro Fashion History with TSS lesson). But within this outfit itself, there are other great throwbacks to other moments in Taylor’s evolution as game day observer.

The bustier references the Balenciaga one worn to the aforementioned game, but that also bears similarities to the Versace one worn during the #killahardlaunch from October 14 when Taylor and Travis first appeared on the streets of NYC following Taylor’s cameo at SNL that night.

The embllishements harken back to the blue distressed shorts she wore to her second game on October 1 which were by the same brand (as were the butterfly jeans she wore in that first post-split candid back in April) and the colour to the dark wash Ksubi shorts she wore to her very first game on September 24.

Ending her season in this manner, with callbacks to both her style and relationship journey, feels intrinsically Taylor who has leveraged her style over the course of this season to center smaller designers (especially female-owned ones like #WearbyEA or ones local to KC), in Chiefs-oriented colours, formulated into casual but chic game day outfits that befit someone happy to be an enthusiastic spectator.

Worn with: Stephanie Gottlieb pendant and tennis necklace, Shay necklace and bracelet, The Last Line earring, Shahla Karimi + Shay + Retrouvai rings, Dion Lee top, Judith Leiber clutch, Area pants, and Christian Louboutin boots

#taylor swift #candid #outerwear #wear by ea #erin andrews #february 2024 #kc chiefs

220 notes · View notes

maneaterluvr101 · 6 months ago

Text

FRANCIS FOREVER| PT.1

ART DONALDSON X READER

SYNOPSIS: In which Evelyn has idolised Art from the moment they first met, from his dirt blonde hair to his devotion to tennis, to the way he looks at her. Until the great tennis player, Tashi Duncans, catches the attention of her best friends, Patrick and Art. And as Tashi integrates into their once trio, she realises that her devotion has slowly turned into infatuation throughout the years.

WARNING: CHALLENGERS SPOILER, mature language, sexual themes, angst, slow burn, series.

Word Count: 3.4k

“Dr.Auclair?” The hostess confirming as she scanned the reservations list before looking up, the woman in front of her gave a nod.

She gave a polite smile before leading Evelyn to her seat with a light blush painted on her cheeks, dumbfounded by her looks.

Her heels clicked against the tile floor of the restaurant she had reserved at. Though busy, it felt as though the customers and worker’s eyes were on Evelyn the moment she entered the building.

Tuesdays night lights glimmered in dimly lit restaurant as her waitress led her to her seat with a calming view of the city, thanking her with a soft but genuine smile as she took her seat before looking down on her attire for the evening.

Evelyns day-to-day scrubs were no where to be seen, replaced with a simple but chic outfit that still hugged her body to perfection. And though she looked stunning and composed, her palms were sweaty and she felt like her heart was having palpitations as her pointer finger tapped the wooden table with a certain rhythm.

Anxious wouldn’t begin to describe how nervous she was to talk to the man she still thought about even after a decade of no communication.

STANFORD UNIVERSITY, 13 YEARS AGO.

“But Professor, you were the one who specifically instructed us to quote this extract when we’re faced with this question!” Evelyn spat as her manicured finger pointed to her script on the psychology lecturers desk.

To say that she was furious would be an understatement. For most of Evelyns life, academics had been the primary part of her existence. Never getting anything lower than an A was something she will forever pride herself in.

Until now.

As she faces her psychology professor with her brows furrowed in confusion and jaw clenched. Between the two was her first major psychology test of the semester with a large B written on it.

Professor Lynn slowly shaking his head as he pursed his lips. “There’s nothing I can do for you, Evelyn, the marking system has changed from the past few years,” he stated, as he tried to keep his composure.

Professor Lynn wasn’t unfamiliar of the infamous Evelyn Auclair. Every one of teachers had at least one story to tell about her. Like how she sat by Mrs Jackson table for 4 hours in a silent protest to change the book that they were assigned to read, as she said “This book is too elementary for the amount of money my parents pay for me to be here. Point blank.”

Whether good or bad, you’ve heard of Evelyn Auclair at least once.

Evelyn stays silent for what seems like forever as she tries her best not to curse him out, ‘He’s just trying to do his job, Eve. This isn’t personal and you shouldn’t raise your voice like that. It’s been 30 minutes since class has been over and your next class starts in 15. Come up with a solution quick,’

She thought to herself as she tapped her manicured pointer finger on his desk.

She nods her head slowly as she straightens her back, purposely connecting her eyes with his as she plastered a fake closed mouth smile.

“I'm sorry for lashing out on you like that. It was disrespectful and completely unnecessary, but please take into consideration the hard work i put into learning everything that you’ve taught us in psych and understand my frustration when the first B-” she pauses as she realizes her voice was getting louder.

Taking a deep breath in and releasing the air she continues, “when the first B I have ever gotten is a major exam which counts 45% of this semester mark” she finishes calmly.

They both stay silent for a moment, Professor Lynn trying to maintain the eye contact with Evelyn, to only look away after a moment of Evelyn intimidating eye contact.

With tension so thick you can cut it with a knife, Professor Lynn hesitantly nods his head as he lets out a sigh of exhaustion. “Okay, I'll recheck your paper, when I have the time to do so. How does that sound” he suggested weakly as he was convinced and mostly tired realizing that he had just spent 30 minutes arguing with Evelyn, ‘Who still looks like she can go for another 1 hour or two.’ Professor Lynn thought to himself

She paused for a moment, as she furrowed her brows and bit her bottom lip pretending to be deep in thought, when in actuality she knew this was the best she could get.

Finally, Evelyn nods with a neutral face, “Thank you, sir. I’ll take my leave now, enjoy the rest of your day” she offers him a soft genuine smile which he returns with a tired one.

And as she picks her bag up from the desk. She reaches for her phone in her front pocket, checking the time.

“Shit." she murmured as she practically ran out of class, she had 8 minutes left to reach her next class, which was Chem, on time.

As she sped walked through the practically empty corridors, she grabbed her phone once more to call one of her friends who shares the same classes as her, Amira.

‘Hopefully she can save me a seat in the first rows, I’m not sitting anywhere near the back. All the frat-’ Her thoughts interrupted as she bumped into someone. Almost dropping her phone in the process

“So-”

Ah.

And as she raised her head from her phone to utter out an apology, her brown eyes connected with hooded blue ones for just a moment before they looked away. It felt like, for a moment, everything had slowed down as she surveyed his appearance, taking notice of how he looked. He had almost mouse-like features, his well-kept eyebrows furrowed as he looked ahead jaw clenched. He had to be standing at, what seemed like at least 5'11 as he walked past not once looking back at her.

Finally snapping out her trance, Evelyn quickly realizing that she still hadn’t issued out her apology, "Sorry!", cringing at how loud she had sounded for some boy who didn't seem phased by the fact that she had bumped into him.

She stood there staring at the back of his form as it disappeared, fascinated by his aura, which has never happened. Most of her friends gush over boys, spewing all about how attractive they were just by how they carried themselves. Evelyn never truly understood what her friends meant by this, until now.

Almost as though she set a reminder for herself, her phone blared. Amira, read on the screen with a large print as clicked on the green button to answer.

“where are you? Class is about to start in 4 minutes,” an angry whisper inquired on the other line. Her and Evelyn had a few things in common, being punctual was one of them.

“Uh, yeah. Im almost there. Save me a seat?” she stuttered out as she began her speed walk to her next class.

It had been almost 2 weeks since the bump in with the stranger and Evelyn still thought about him.

And the more she thought about him, the more she seemed to look for him everyday. It also didn’t help that Amira had no idea who she was talking about as she stated, “Please, with the description that you gave me you just described 90% of the white boys in Stanford.”

So for now, Evelyn unconsciously settled on looking at every blonde curly head, her heart stammering hoping to find him only to be met with disappointment each time.

“Eve, you have got to join some sort of sport. You cant be waking up and breathing books every chance you get.” Amira currently tried to reason with her friend, as they sat in the cafeteria.

Evelyn shook her head as she scrunched up her face in confusion, “Why? It’ll just drain me as if Im not a premed student who isn’t already stressed by the shit ton of modules and tests i have this semester. Plus I’m a first year, i need to make this year count.” She stated before taking a bite of her apple.

The brown girl quick to respond, “That’s what Im saying! It’s your first year in college and all you can think about is books? C’mon, if not partying at least have yourself a hobby,” and before Evelyn could respond, Amira quickly shut it down. “And reading old literature doesn’t count as hobby.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes as she sighed.

“Right. Tell that to the book club which I was the president of in 10th Grade” she defended playfully with a grin.

“Im serious, Eve! I want you to enjoy your years in college.” Amira lectured as she stared at the girl whose only personality were her grades and fighting teachers because of her grades.

Evelyn sighing once more before forcing a small smile on her face, “I’ll look into some sports that don’t include ice, grass, water or having to grind or push up on anybody. How’s that?”

“Sounds like you crossed out 80% of sports by that list alone, but I’ll take what I can get.” Amira pointed out as she smiled at Eve, her eyes widened as she had an idea,

“There’s a match on Wednesday. Mens tennis with Fire and Ice playing, maybe you can accompany me?” suggested Amira with a wide smile.

And to quickly end this tedious topic of sports, Evelyn answered with a nod before changing the subject.

Wednesday had came too quickly for Evelyns liking as Amira dragged her to the tennis courts.

“This is going to be so fun! Aren’t you excited? I’m excited. Your first sports match that you’ve watched in college!” Amira babbled on as she walked past seated people, muttering out ‘excuse me’s’ between every 3rd to 4th word she said before finally sitting down in the 2nd row of bleachers right in the middle, Evelyn following suit.

“Im literally shaking out of excitement.” Evelyn narrated with faux enthusiasm as she lifted her hand towards Amira’s vision making sure her hand stood completely still.

Amira slapped her hand away making Evelyn giggle, rolling her eyes Amira was about to lecture Evelyn before her eyes caught onto the 2 boys on the court. “There they are, Fire and Ice.” Amiras manicured finger pointing to the two on the court.

And as Evelyn turned her head towards the court, her heart dropped as she realised who was on the court. Her stomach twisting as the mystery boy she had been looking for for the past two weeks had finally been found, She didn’t even know how to explain the emotions she felt when she stared at the dirt blonde who seemed to be in his own world as he stretched with his partner.

Her face must’ve given it away as she felt her friend nudge her slightly, “Theyre hot right? The brunette is Patrick Zweig, he doesn’t go to school here but he’s like really talented when it comes to tennis. he actually doesn’t go to school at all right now just doing him, i guess. I’d like to do him too but we can’t always get what we want. Then we have the blonde one,” Amira points towards him, glancing at Evelyn amused by how she seemed so invested in what Amira was saying, she leans towards Evelyn, “he’s Art Donaldson, he studies here at Stanford and is a year above us. Not sure in what he studies though, he’s got talent but not as comparable to Patricks. I feel like, and this is just my opinion, Art doesn’t really think that much of tennis as much as Patrick does. And-oh the match is starting.” Amira quick to shut her mouth as she watched the double match begin.

And as Patrick hit the first serve, Evelyn fell in love. Watching as the ball went back and forth between the two pairs, her lingering on Patrick and Art each time that hit the ball back. With each grunt and whimper that came with each stroke, the determination to win as both team’s faces are scrunched up with concentration. Evelyn cant help but lean forward as the direction of her head travelled with the ball.

And as this game played in front of her she couldn’t help but feel at peace though her palms sweated for the so called, “Fire and Ice” duo to win.

This was one of the reasons why she hated sports, it was simply unpredictable. It could reward you or leave you high or dry if it truly wanted to. Sports needed a certain type of trust from the viewers to the players, creating this bond that resembled a relationship between the viewer and the supporting team. And this match made her realise how right she was, but how oh so wrong she was to believe it was a bad to feel this way.

Her heart stammers as they were on the last set, the whole court quietly watching. And as Art served the last winning hit, Evelyn could help but stand up. “Let’s Go!” She screamed, her always composed self nowhere to be found, as some of the crowd also stood clapping.

And as she clapped she could’ve sworn she made eye contact with Art from across the court but that thought was interrupted as she felt Amira stand next pushing her playfully, “I’ve never seen you jump and scream like that before. Not even when you got first place in the Science Olympiad, looks like we’ve found your sport.” Amira teased with a grin. Evelyn smiling back at Amira as she felt light from the win of the game.

“We’ve definitely found my sport.”

Tennis was a shit sport.

Well thats what Evelyn thought everytime she couldn’t hit an ace or tripped on herself chasing the ball when she’d play with Amira. She hated not understanding something at the first try, so you can imagine her disdain when her first try turns into 4th, 4th turns into 10th and she still stumbling and missing the ball. Though she studied every video on the internet with famous tennis players and listened to each video on tennis terms for the past week, it felt like she knew nothing when she reached the court. But one thing that’ll forever remain true about Evelyn Auclair’s character was that she was no quitter.

She proved this point,as she walked inside the indoor tennis court with long strides in her tank top and tennis shorts reading the text from Amira stating that she’ll be running late. ‘When has she ever been on time?’ Evelyn questioned walking to their usual court, about to place her bag on one of the benches between the courts. And as she lifted up her head from her phone her movement came to a halt as she made eye contact with the match in front of her.

Art.

Her eyes landing on the dirt-blonde, her stomach immediately erupting with butterflies as she watched the match between him and Patrick. Though she had expected to see them here practicing sooner or later, she still felt shocked to see them. She stood in the middle of the courts bag still attached to her back completely forgetting about it, just observing the game in front of her.

Today’s practice courts were coincidentally empty , only housing the three and nobody else. So the only sounds heard where the two boys’ grunts and the ‘thwack!’ of the ball as it makes contact with the rackets.

And as the ball was passed between the two white boys, she noticed how precise Patricks serves were compared to Arts. Delivering accurate hits each time that had no clear formula to study but was simply driven by the determination to win at all cost necessary. She had also realized that she had walked in on their last set as Patrick delivered a perfect backhand that Art missed, crowning Patrick as the winner of the match.

Though Patrick won, Evelyn couldn’t help that her eyes were glued on Art after the game. How out of breathe he seemed to be and though he lost he still playfully smirked at Patrick as he walked towards him, his sweat glistening on his skin in the brightly lit court,his tongue darting to moisture his lips.

His eyes focused on Patrick who greeted him with a sly smile as he pulled Arts arm towards him, creating little distance between themselves, wiping Arts face as he began saying something that Evelyn couldn’t quite catch before lightly tapping Arts face. As he took a few slow steps backwards creating distance between themselves grinning ear to ear before turning completely around walking off the court and seemingly towards Evelyn direction.

Evelyns hands sweaty as she watches Art following behind Patrick rolling his eyes, saying something she still couldn’t decipher with a smug grin. Walking closer, Evelyn realising that they were literally walking directly towards her. She looked around for Amira as she was still nowhere to be found, only making eye contact with the bags that were placed messily on a bench near her.

She stood right next to their bags so obviously they’d be heading in her direction. She internally rolled her eyes as she thought of how delusional she was for almost thinking that they were coming to her. Evelyn stood and watched them walk past her to their bags paying her no mind as they continued to chat amongst themselves.

“Cmon Art, that backhand serve was cinematic, admit it!” boasted Patrick as he shoved his items into his bag, Art doing the same with a ghost smile while listen to the brunette ramble on about their match.

And as Art picked up his bag, he locked eyes with Evelyn, maintaining eye contact for a moment before politely smiles at her.

And even though it was just a smile that had no real intentions behind it, at that moment Evelyn experienced feelings she felt the first time she had watched them play. The indescribable emotions she felt that day came rushing back.

Evelyn smiles back almost immediately, her dimple making an appearance, clutching the strap of her bag.

“You were amazing,” she blurts out catching the attention of both boys, she internally cringes at how direct and poorly she worded that,straightening her back as she corrects herself. “in the game that you just played obviously. And last week’s double match. You both were.” She states darting her eyes to Patrick for just a moment before her eyes went back to Art as she couldn’t seem to keep them from the dirt blonde.

Smiling softly Art utters out a thank you about to say something else interrupted by Patrick wrapping his arm around Arts shoulder with a cocked head and toothy grin.

“You’re too kind. i actually thought this game was horrible. In particular, this asshole was half assing it the whole game” Art just rolls his eyes, shoving him off him. Patrick paying him no mind as he placed his hand on his chest with the same grin,“Im Patrick.” introducing himself even though he knew that she was aware of who they were by the glint in her eyes. “And this is Art.” he stated, pointing to his best friend.

“I saw you last week at our game. You were the one who screamed ‘Lets Go!’ right?” Patrick questioned as he stared with amusement at Evelyn, who nodded with an embarrassed smile on her face. “Never heard anyone shout like that at any of our games.” Patrick stated,smiling he continues, “I didn’t catch your name by the way.”

And with a small smile and a heated face, she softly introduced herself,

“Evelyn.”

CURRENTLY,

“Evelyn?”

Evelyns head slowly lifted up to the source of her name, to be met with the same hooded blue eyes she fell in loved with.

taglist: @jointherebellion215 @jackierose902109 @killjoycrashkitty @ms-longbeach @literarydesire @n-slayaaaaa @jesuistrestriste @theitgirlnetwork @gcfshyegi @londonnnnnnnnnn @lietomevpr @saintwrld @bambisbamboo404

#art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers #x black reader #x reader #tashi duncan #books #challengers x reader #challengers 2024 #april 2024 #sad tragic #i slept at 2am so couldn’t really proofread this

96 notes · View notes

eyesfullofsttars · 8 months ago

Text

☆ I've waited here for you, everlong...

Sypnosis: Ellie Williams, the guitarist of Lost in the Darkness, has questionable methods for handling her stage fright, which results in an accident where Abigail Anderson, a medical student, has to intervene.

Notes: God, this is so dumb, sorry, I'm a lesbian. Also, it's 1.97k words...

Warnings: This is just fluffy stuff with mentions of alcohol (should I put a warning for that?) But nothing more than Abby and Ellie being silly lesbians for each other, nothing sexual or anything!

Stage fright was a frequent challenge for Ellie, despite being the guitarist of Lost in the Darkness, her band. At times, the anxiety and pressure of stepping onto the stage overwhelmed her, feeling all eyes on her, scrutinizing every move and waiting for her to make a mistake.

This obstacle left her with sweaty hands, making it difficult to move her fingers to play the guitar strings, while her chest heaved with each breath, rising and falling incessantly, without giving her a moment to calm her mind.

Despite these challenges, Ellie had found a solution that, although not the healthiest or ideal, allowed her to continue doing what she loved most in the world: playing music, sharing her songs, and being part of Lost in the Darkness alongside her friends Dina and Jesse.

So, facing the consequences, without much thought before stepping onto the stage, Ellie turned to alcohol, taking a couple of shots to calm her nerves and silence the intrusive thoughts that invaded her mind.

That was Ellie's routine before taking the stage to play guitar in front of everyone, delivering a show without hesitation, knocking back shots of vodka continuously just minutes before any gig, even if it was just a modest one at the local bar— the band's current limit—performing in small venues packed with crowds drawn by their love for music.

The shift had been sudden for Ellie, transitioning from jamming in her old man's garage to local gigs and opening for bigger artists. In essence, the band was inching closer to success, but with each step forward, Ellie's fear mounted, seeking solace in alcohol to silence her racing thoughts.

Typically, it had the desired effect; it freed her, making her more outgoing, encouraging her to express herself more boldly, strumming the guitar freely on stage, harmonizing with Dina, charming the admiring girls. Instead of ignoring the bras tossed her way, she would boldly grab one, spinning it around her finger with a confidence fueled by alcohol.

Without alcohol, Ellie would regress to a mere girl with her guitar, tucked away in a corner, absentmindedly tapping her foot, gazing downward with her short hair obscuring her freckled face, lacking even a trace of the confidence that her natural guitar prowess deserved.

Alcohol was a solution that used to work, except Ellie never considered the possibility that her solution would end up complicating things even more.

Now, she was facing the consequences as her dirty Converse sneakers began to get tangled in the guitar cables while she stumbled around the stage in her drunken state.

Eventually, she ended up tripping over the cables and falling off the stage with a loud crash, eliciting screams of shock and surprise from the audience and causing both Dina and Jesse to express concern and rush to her side.

Abigail Anderson possessed a peculiar charm, extremely chic in her act of privacy, coupled with the money inherited from her family of doctors. She inherently embodied elegance, remaining private and reserved, avoiding public events unrelated to her agenda.

It felt like a privilege to have her attention, even a personal luxury to distract her from her primary responsibility, making appearances anywhere other than her classes, her father's private library, her country club playing tennis, or simply hosting a tea gathering at her apartment.

That's why accepting the invitation from her friends Leah, Nora, Owen, and Manny to go to a small local bar for beer and heavy rock music was a surprise to everyone but enthusiastically celebrated.

Taken as an acknowledgment that Abby needed a break from her upcoming exam season, during which she would disappear without being reachable by anyone for weeks.

So there was Abby, seated in one of the uncomfortable chairs of the small bar, her loose blonde hair with two braids hidden among its length, smiling faintly as she watched all her friends having fun, taking sips from her beer bottle, its scent mixing with her white tank top and light blue shirt.

Abby was gently swaying her head to the rhythm of the second song of the night by the band that had taken the stage, enjoying the guitar solo performed by the girl who elicited screams from all the women present, going wild over the presence of this girl with messy hair, black crop top, and denim jorts, whose body seemed to come alive as she played the strings with precision.

Until the guitar solo was abruptly interrupted by the loud and startling sound of a fall, causing the female voices to switch from desperate screams to gasps of shock, and the band quickly ran off the stage, everyone forming a circle around a spot without moving.

"Did the guitarist fall?" Abby heard that question more as an affirmation from Nora, which quickly caught her attention, making her turn to look at her with a furrowed brow, surprising the entire group.

Once it was established that the guitarist had indeed fallen off the stage, all eyes turned to Abby, the always sought-after option whenever something a medical student could handle occurred, but even more so for Anderson, coming from a family of doctors.

"I'll go check..." Abby whispered timidly, unsure of where to look as she noticed all her friends looking expectantly at her, knowing she was capable of helping in this situation.

Abigail slowly rose from her seat, setting down her beer, running her hand through her hair to clear her vision, and asking for permission as she made her way through the crowd to approach the scene. There, she found the guitarist lying on the ground, surrounded by her two concerned bandmates.

After regaining consciousness, the first thing Ellie remembers seeing is none other than an angel sent by the Lord to her, to take her to the afterlife. This moment would forever be etched in the memory of rock, as she passed away following her guitar solo.

At least she was bidding farewell to the world of the dead in peace after being in the presence of an angel, gently caressing her freckled face with gentle yet firm hands. Despite Ellie never being, nor ever will be, a religious person, she could begin to believe after this.

"Oh God, I'm so glad you woke up," Ellie hears the relieved female voice, managing to focus her clear gaze, snapping out of her reverie. "Are you okay?"

Ellie simply nods slowly, realizing that she was still alive, sitting outside the bar, leaning against the brick wall with the cold night air brushing against her exposed skin.

Her hand grazing over her eyes and as she does, her freckled skin becomes more marked with the black eyeliner already in place. However, this motion allows her to see the woman in front of her more clearly.

Strong features, smooth skin except for a sharp scar on the cheek, long blonde hair, concerned blue eyes focused on no one but her, and hopefully, it would always be this way, in addition to her strong hands, larger than Ellie's face, trying to offer some comfort to the guitarist.

No one was allowed to laugh at Ellie's naivety for mistaking that woman for an angel, not even to laugh, because who wouldn't have done the same?

"Who are you?" Ellie dares to ask, still staring at the woman, her green eyes meeting hers, feeling her heart beat even faster at the beauty before her.

"I'm Abigail. Abigail Anderson, I study medicine..." the woman responds and Ellie immediately gets distracted trying to associate Abby's face with that name, fascinated by the small detail. "Are you okay?"

Amidst the silence and observation, Abby slightly furrows her brow in concern, quickly placing Ellie's face between her hands to look for any signs of a concussion.

Though the closeness intimidates her, Abby tries to remain professional and ignore how attractive Ellie is, with her unusual vibe, smudged eyeliner, disheveled hair, and piercings shimmering in the night light.

"Does your head hurt?" Abby manages to get the words out to ask the right question, while her hands still caress Ellie's face, searching for any signs of pain or confusion.

Ellie shakes her head, feeling a little weak but comforted by Abby's presence. Abby's sweet touch is even more comforting for Ellie, who can't focus on any possible pain in front of her.

"No, everything's fine, I think..." Ellie responds in a whisper, attributing her headache to the mix of alcohol and the fall to the floor. "Thanks for caring, doc" she adds with a smile on her lips, the alcohol still in her system making her more confident and unafraid to flirt with Abby.

A giggle escapes Abby's lips as she sees Ellie's attitude, who quickly shakes her head, assuring her that she's fine. Despite everything, Abby remains concerned, removing her hands from Ellie's face.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Abby whispers, avoiding Ellie's gaze. "Let me know if you feel worse or notice any other symptoms, tell me right away."

Abby's serious tone causes Ellie to snort, nodding obediently, letting Abby know she's listening. Perhaps Ellie misunderstood the situation, or her charms had no effect, or maybe her image lying on the floor wasn't the most attractive.

It's true, Ellie remembers with embarrassment the situation of being sprawled on the floor, completely mesmerized by Abby's image in front of her, caring for her without any ulterior motives. Shame washes over Ellie like the alcohol coursing through her veins, quickly sobering her to reality.

"Sorry..." Ellie mutters under her breath, unsure if Abby can even hear her, but she says it nonetheless, hoping to alleviate some of her humiliation.

Abby listens attentively, but she doesn't respond verbally, just nods quickly, seeking to reassure Ellie that everything is okay, unable to form a coherent sentence herself, longing for Ellie to regain her composure and speak again.

"Thanks for looking out for me. I really appreciate it..." Ellie speaks again, a small smile on her lips, which elicits a smile from Abby too, as if it were contagious, filling her with warmth.

Ellie attempts to rise from the ground on her own, bravely and abruptly, without worrying about the potential consequences, but before she can complete the action, Abby's hand extends towards her, offering assistance in a delicate manner that Ellie quickly accepts without hesitation.

"So... you're heading off alone now?" Abby asks, unsure if it's professional concern for Ellie's well-being or simply a desire to prolong their interaction a little longer.

Although Abby is adept at concealing her intentions, being reserved and formal, a woman who values her privacy, it seems impossible or challenging for anyone to read her and uncover her true motives. But this time, Ellie notices it, realizes it, and discerns the intention behind Abby's words.

Despite Ellie always leaving with her band, escaping from bars to be together, heading to another nightclub to continue the party, always repeating the same routine of getting drunk and picking up girls with the story of being in a band, Ellie nods her head slowly, a smile on her face for understanding what Abby truly means.

"I could use some more medical attention just in case," Ellie responds in an instant, too quick to seem disinterested, but still not trying to hide it beneath the guise of a small joke without taking it too seriously. "Will you walk with me?"

The words catch in Abby's throat, unable to speak as she sees Ellie's smile, her beautiful, freckled face, and that flirtatious yet timid intention mirroring her own. Unable to truly respond, Abby nods dumbly, quickly taking off her jacket and draping it over Ellie's shoulders, covering the sliver of skin exposed by the crop top.

68 notes · View notes