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jesuistrestriste · 19 days ago

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we need to see artie with the yummy cupcake lotion!! PLEASEEE

ask and you shall receive ᢉ𐭩

cw (18+) : sub!art, dom!reader, dom!patrick, multiple orgasms (art receiving), sloppy blowjobs, biting, brief dacryphilia, nipple play, handjobs, art gets ruined .

“fff—uhh-ck—!” art’s body shudders atop the mattress hard enough to vibrate it, his aquamarine eyes rolling back and his leg muscles flexing underneath your seat over his thighs. as your hands work the newly-bought (thank you, patrick’s wallet) whipped body cream into his swollen shaft, he fixates on the way your thumbs rub at the vein bulging and throbbing from within the underside of his length. he heaves like he’s short of breath. patrick slings a leg over his chest and smirks down at him, obscuring his view of you.

“so hot when you can barely handle a handjob,” he teases, his palms moving down to cup the back of art’s head and urge it forward to meet his glistening tip, “open up f’r me, watching you get worked up is making me leak..”

art’s never one to put up a fight when it comes to pleasuring you or patrick, so he lets out the prettiest of keens before he relaxes his jaw and swallows his best friend down in one ragged gulp. his cheeks puff for only a brief moment as he stifles his gag reflex, then they hollow as he adjusts and begins sucking the pleasantly-salty flesh with the finesse of a seasoned slut.

pat immediately tosses his head back, letting out a deep, guttural groan that reverberates throughout his chest, and guides his hips to shallowly thrust against art’s face—the flushed tip of art’s nose buried in nothing but thick happy-trail. little “mmn”s from the blonde’s chest escape as the inches are sloppily fed to him with every grinding motion, pushing him to swallow down as much as he possibly can.. and he can take quite a lot..

your hands begin to pump the rigid length harder in your grasp; up, down, up, down, up, and then down, down, down to cup his tightening sack. you smirk. you know each and every one of his weak spots in a way that no one else does; it’s become easier than ever to exploit them for your (and patrick’s) benefit. all it really takes is one specific touch, and he’ll lose it. with that in mind, you drag your fingernail against the soft seam in his balls, chuckling when you hear an unsurprising, muffled cry erupt from art’s body. his hands rush to squeeze at pat’s thighs, his pelvis jolts like he’s a wild horse trying to buck you off, and then he comes. just like that. simple—quick—inexcusable.

his toes curl, his cock spasming as you stroke him through it. your eyes stick to the sight of his spend spurting and spilling over your touch and his lower abdomen. it looks like the icing that glazes cinnamon rolls; it makes you lick over your bottom lip, desperate to finally lap up what you’re craving. in the same breath, patrick reels back and pulls his still painfully-hard erection from the other’s mouth. strings of spit cling and break from their point of contact. while pat’s frame is still shielding the sight of your plaything’s post-orgasmic expression from your gaze, you can hear him breathing and whimpering through the aftershocks, same as he always does. composure is something he never retains after the first climax. you give the middle of his member one last pump before you’re sliding down onto your tummy and patrick is moving in tandem to sit beside art’s torso—grabbing the bottle of lotion from the bedside table and squeezing a deliciously-sweet helping over art’s bare chest. the initial chill of it makes his body shiver.

“that wasn’t even a minute, artie, maybe not even thirty seconds,” you croon, kissing his inner thighs, looking up to him through your lashes, “that was a little embarrassing, actually..”

art moans at your taunting words and the feel of your soft lips pressing to his sensitive skin. his unsteady hands curl into the sheets where they fell from pat. he wants to cry already, you can tell; the urge wells in his eyes like pools of saltwater. you rub his hipbone in an attempt to comfort him before you lick over his flesh and then sink your teeth in hard enough to leave a mark. as soon as he feels your canines, his back is jerking up from the mattress into a perfect arch and he’s gasping feverishly—all stuttered and urgent. you laugh warmly around his flesh caught between your jaws, crinkle your nose with the effort, then let him go. you soothe over the bite with your tongue. his face screws up, his cock throbs back to full-mast, and the first tear spills from the outer corner of his eye. right on schedule. art loves being bitten, but it overwhelms him terribly. mouthing mindlessly at the indentations of your teeth in his skin, you let him be coaxed back to the edge.

“.. ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, i—i didn’t mean to, everything just happened so fast, and i—“ he sniffles, trying to catch his breath after your recent act of tender sadism. he doesn’t get much time to do so though before your accomplice is having his way with him once more.

patrick gropes at art’s pecs and rubs the cream in, ignoring how close he was to finishing mere minutes ago as he’d been getting some of the best head of his life. blondie is a pro at oral, he performs it like his life depends on whether or not he can make the person fall apart over his tastebuds. pat’s fingers toy with the pink buds on art’s chest and he smirks devilishly when his tennis partner tips his head back and squirms like an overexcited puppy.

“relax,” the brunette murmurs, leaning down just a bit, thumbs rubbing merciless circles over art’s nipples, “and stick your fuckin’ tongue out.”

art does as he’s told. no complaints. why would he? a desperate moan pours from his chest as his mouth opens and is instantly flooded with the sugary taste of smooth vanilla bean—the body cream. patrick’s middle and ring finger nearly suffocate him as they slide as deep as his dick had been. art coughs. he splutters, really. he drools. then he succumbs to the sensations and lets himself be used. the hand still on his chest rubs relentlessly at his right tit.

“uuungh—!” he whines around the digits, feeling a pit of prickly heat boil in his stomach for the second time, “wai—.. w-wait.. i think i—ohh, fuck..! haah—haah-!”

but you can hardly understand him with his mouth full.

you chuckle, making victorious eye-contact with patrick for only a fraction of a second, and then pepper chaste pecks to his tensing lower limbs. art’s golden curls cling to his dewy forehead and splay out over the pillow. he looks princely like this. it only makes you want to take him apart more viciously.

pat dips down and suddenly licks over the top half of art’s chest, letting his spit-covered fingers retreat from the blonde’s orifice and rub at the leftmost bundle of nerves. the man under him nearly wails.

“mmn.. cotton candy icecream,” he whispers playfully before languidly kissing another spot, “or maybe it’s supposed to be sugar cookie,” he kisses another area, “or birthday cake..”

each touch of pat’s mouth has art’s noises pitching higher. more pathetic, more obscene, and certainly indicative of his second climax beginning to creep in and muddle his thoughts, as if he wasn’t already a bit too delirious with ecstasy to function properly. he wonders if he can even withstand the mental weight of another one, but it’s not like he can stop it—even if he did want to. he’s completely at the mercy of you two, and he doesn’t yet plan to attempt to wriggle free.

you’re too entranced by the lewd interaction displayed in front of you to do what you had intended, so you hold yourself steady between art’s legs as the muscles continue to flex and twitch around your head. in the blink of an eye, pat is taking art’s right nipple into his mouth and suckling like he expects milk to flow.

that’s plenty for poor, helpless artie. the rush of fiery gratification floods his body and has him sobbing out a handful of frenzied syllables. his cock bobs in vain against his tummy, gushing more milky fluid.

“im coming,” he yelps, “im coming, hard, hard, hard, im—AAH-“

patrick pulls his pout from art’s bud with a slick pop and flutters his tongue over it afterward to let his buddy ride out his high. he waits until the tremors have subsided before lifting his head and taking in the sight of the spent form twitching on the comforter.

“good boy,” he groans, unable to stop himself from reaching down to jerk his cock in his fist, overcome with arousal from watching art finish twice in no more than seven or eight measly minutes.

now it’s your turn.

you get the last one.

“such a good boy, baby,” you echo pat’s sentiment, not giving your toy a moment more of reprieve before you’re sucking at his softening, hypersensitive cock. you expect his previous two loads to overpower the flavor of the lotion, but they don’t—art eats extremely healthily, so his come hardly tastes like much of anything at all. it’s like he’s made of strawberry shortcake. he’s sweet all-over. you swirl your tongue as you feel his length kick with overstimulation against the roof of your mouth.

“FUCK—“

he squeals, shaking his head, thrashing like a fish-out-of-water. his hands race to squeeze your shoulders, pawing at them and trying to push you away, even if part of him wants nothing more than to pull you in closer. patrick sees this and takes the initiative to check in—he’s good at that.

“you want it to stop?” he strokes his messy fingertips through art’s strands, combing them out a bit as he watches his expression crumple, “y’wanna be all done? if you wanna be done, you gotta tell us.. you know how it works. if you can’t talk, give me the taps. three, and it’ll all be over.. just like that.”

art’s eyes squeeze shut tighter at his best friend’s reassuring instructions. his hands move from your shoulders to fumble blindly for pat’s wrist, clutching it like a lifeline as the sensation of your tongue and lips sends him hurtling toward a third and final release. it coils and stretches and brews in his gut like it’s threatening to tear him apart from the inside-out. he’s hot to the touch, body trembling uncontrollably, a slew of unintelligible noises leaving him as everything builds, and builds, and builds..

“you can give us one more,” patrick mumbles lowly into art’s cheek, “one more.. here it comes.. here it comes, dude..”

you moan encouragingly around art’s length, slurping around it and bobbing your head in imitation of the way he had when he was going down on your dominant counterpart. you look up to his face, you lick at his precome, you pat the side of his torso. he knows that that means. you’re ready to drink everything he can give.

he crashes.

patrick tugs at the back of his hair just the way he likes, you rub your tongue rapidly against his frenulum, and he mewls painfully through the last climax his nervous system is willing to grant him. his thighs clamp down around your face and keep you held close, his dick throbbing in your throat as he spills over. ropes pour one after the other as you swallow—the feeling of your throat convulsing around him only prolonging the intoxicating nature of every tingle and thrum of pleasure that runs up his spine.

“hurt—hurts, hngh, n-no.. can’t.. o-okay—please—done—“ he hiccups out after only a few more short moments, tears fully spilling down the sides of his face and over his temples now. you pull yourself slowly off of him and revel in the way his abdomen contracts in response to the last blinks of sensitivity. you gasp for air when you’re sat back upright, and then you’re crawling up to cup art’s cheek.

“we’ve got you.. you’re alright,” you kiss the words into his neck, patrick moving to press a kiss to his brow as well, “didn’t that feel so good?”

art manages a nod, but that’s all he has in him. everything else has left his brain and melted into the bedsheets. it’ll be a while before he’s back to his usual self. you and pat know what he needs—this is almost routine by now.

“we’ll get you cleaned up and taken care of, yeah?” you hum.

he nods again. his eyes flutter under heavy lids. he stifles a tiny whimper.

you watch as the brunette idly palms his flaccid cock, his hand frothy with a release you hadn’t even realized he experienced. must’ve finished when art did. disappointment fidgets and flares in your chest at the thought of missing one of your boys’ orgasms. it makes you frown a bit, but then you get an idea. one that only makes sense—is only fair—right? your lips drag against the outside of art’s ear.

“gotta get you rested up, artie.. tomorrow’s patrick’s turn..”

taglist : @voidsuites @fawnnpaws @artstennisracket @imperishablereverie @ghostgirl-22 @lexiiscorect @cha11engers @patricksbf @newrochellechallenger2019 @pittsick @blastzachilles @oncefaist @tacobacoyeet @nozhdyved @tinythebunni

#ok . so this turned out to be longer than i anticipated #and i think i went a little crazy finishing it #but here it is !#and thank you arcane watchparty for the moral support .. i love you guys ..#also i didnt make pat and reader as mean as i had planned .. maybe in future fic ;-;#sage’s asks #🌸 - ask prompts #🩷 - thirsts #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x you #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig x you #art donaldson x patrick zweig

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