#i fucking LOVE how pretty they made patrick

[killerandhealerqueen]

I need more people to watch Love is Written in the Stars so that I can scream with them about Patrick and Ian’s characters. I mean, I can do it alone and I will but…having friends watching as well would be nice

[artdcnaldson]

NEED art and patrick to find out I'm a virgin and offer to teach me how to kiss and how to fuck and use eachother as examples and guide me and tell me I'm doing a good job and reward me for being such a good student and come back later and quiz me to see if I remember everything they taught me ugh obsessed with them individually and as a unit

This has lived rent free in my mind for literally forever. I can’t stop thinking about it, it haunts my every waking moment.

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: Making out, Handjob lessons, guys being pervs, not a love triangle they just all want to fuck each other

A/N: unedited bc I wrote this while on the clock okay whatever. Enjoyyyy and if u want me to continue this lmk >:)

“I think it’s sweet,” Patrick said, and you could hear the amusement in his voice, practically dripping from every syllable. “The last American virgin. You belong in a museum.”

You rolled your eyes and tossed your empty Taco Bell cup at him— the ice rattled and it leaked a puddle of condensation onto the ground. “You could try not to be a dick about it.”

Art’s dorm room was hot and sticky thanks to a faulty AC, which meant the three of you lounging on the floor by his open window, sucking down soda watered down by melted ice cubes. You were down to a T-shirt and shorts, they were down to their boxers. It wasn’t lost on you that it was an intimate situation to be in— barely dressed, crammed into the shoebox of a dorm. And of course Patrick had dug his fingers in until you admitted your secret— you had made it all the way to college totally unfucked.

Patrick leaned forward, smiling the smarmy smile that tended to wear at your last nerve. “So you’re a virgin, but like,” he leaned in, so close you could feel body heat radiating from him. He dropped his voice, just above a whisper. “How much of a virgin, really? You’ve at least gone to third, right?” You glared, but shook your head.

“Second?” Art supplied, suddenly jumping in with an eager sort of curiosity.

“What? No, I don’t even know what that means,” you admitted. You sighed before you spoke up. “I’ve only ever kissed one guy and one girl, and it was during a game of spin the bottle, like, junior year.”

“How?” Patrick asked.

Your brows furrowed. “How? I spun the bottle, it landed on the person, I leaned in, put my lips against theirs, and that was it.”

Patrick sighed. “Just fucking show me how.” He looked at you expectantly, inching even closer.

With an annoyed sigh, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his— mouth closed, lips firm. When you sat back, Patrick and Art were both grinning.

“What?” You asked with a frown.

“That’s how you kiss on the playground in elementary school,” Art said, unable to contain his laughter. “C’mere.”

You crawled forward, stopping in front of the blond. His hand settled on your jaw, coaxing you forward.

His lips met yours softly, sweetly. It was easy to lose yourself in the feeling of Art’s mouth, in the gentle brushes of his lips against yours and the way he held your face so tenderly.

The feeling of his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips was strange, but you welcomed it, letting him lick into your mouth.

Each pass of his tongue against yours drew you deeper and deeper into it, into him. You moved into his lap without realizing it, kissing him with sweet, timid laps of your tongue.

Art pulled back first, his cheeks soft and pink and so pretty. “See? That’s how you’re supposed to kiss someone. That was really good.”

You laughed softly, and moved off of his lap sheepishly. Patrick leaned forward, brushing your hair back, holding your face in his hand.

“Okay, show me what Art showed you,” he instructed, then leaned in.

Kissing Patrick was different than kissing Art. He was hungrier, more insistent. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he wanted to chart every inch. You did your best to match what he offered, to kiss the way Art had just shown you, sweetly, like you really meant it.

And you did mean it. Patrick’s hands moved along your side, up until they cupped your tits through your shirt. You moaned softly into his mouth— the sound was muffled, met with a moan of his own. He gave an experimental squeeze of your tits and you whined softly. So he did it again, amused by the pretty, sweet noises you mewled out.

Patrick was getting hard, pressing against your thigh. It was a new sensation that you were hyper aware of as you unconsciously ground yourself against him.

You pulled back first, cheeks burning hot after you remembered Art was right beside you. You tucked unkempt hair behind your ear, smiled bashfully. “How was I?”

“Good,” Patrick said.

At the same time Art supplied, “So good.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Okay. Cool.”

Art was squirming, fidgeting, holding a pillow over his lap. Patrick was less covert— opting to openly adjust himself, drawing more attention to the fact that he was hard. You rolled your eyes and stole the nearest cup you could find, sipping at watered down Mountain Dew.

“Do you want me to leave?” You teased, raising an eyebrow. Your teeth dug into the plastic straw as you looked between the two of them.

Art stammered, mortified, but Patrick just smiled dizzyingly over at you. “I can teach you something else. You got to first base, so why don’t you steal second?”

You rolled your eyes, but heat flared behind your cheeks. Jesus Christ, he was such a smug asshole. “I still don’t know what that means,” you said, feeling a little embarrassed.

He grinned and mimed jerking off. Your eyes widened, and you laughed softly. “That would be weird,” you said, half-believing it. “Like, if I did jerk one of you off, that leaves one of you just watching.”

You glanced at Art, who looked just as interested as Patrick did, and your heart stammered nervously. “What if I show you how you do it on Art? Look at him— he’s the perfect little practice dummy.” Patrick reached over, pinching at Art’s cheek until the blond kicked his shin.

“Show me?” You echoed. “Like… you’re going to do it to him, and I do it to you?”

Patrick nodded, leaning into Art’s side, his smarmy smile dissolved into something needier. Art swallowed hard, lips parted slightly as he looked over at Patrick.

Patrick’s lips met his slowly, hungrily. You watched wide eyed as Patrick deepened the kiss, as Art eagerly accepted the other boy’s tongue into his mouth.

Patrick threw the pillow out of Art’s lap and sent it careening into the desk on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes widened at the sight of Art, hard and tenting his boxers. Patrick palmed him in his large hands making the blonde whimper into his mouth and buck up, seeking friction.

You swallowed hard, biting down on the straw as you watched Patrick tug at the elastic of Art’s boxers. Art lifted his hips to allow Patrick to tug them down his thighs, just enough to expose his cock to both of you.

“See,” Patrick gasped, leaning back from their kiss. Art chased his lips fruitlessly, mouth ajar, waiting for more. “He’s so fucking easy. Come feel.”

You moved closer, looking at Art for permission. When he nodded, you reached out, letting your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft. He exhaled a shuddery breath, eyes fluttering shut. Patrick’s hand covered yours, guiding you to squeeze around his length.

He was warm under your touch, silky soft, pulsing in your grip. Your heart hammered just at that— at the feel of him in your hand. “Feels nice, huh? Knowing how much he wants you.” You nodded, then slid your fist up, testing the waters. Art moaned softly, throbbed in your grip, aching for more. Patrick smiled like the cat who got the cream. “Hands off, just watch me.”

Patrick spat into his hand and replaced your hand with his own. The second Patrick curled his fingers around Art and started stroking him slowly, the blond was mewling for more. “Fuck,” he moaned, his forehead knocking against Patrick’s, mouth open, panting. “That’s good, feels good.”

You watched Patrick rub his thumb over Art’s tip, eyes widening as Art really whimpered for it, hips thrusting up into Patrick’s fist, chasing more of the pleasure the brunet offered.

“You get it now?” Patrick asked. You nodded quickly, and he tugged down his own boxers. “Fuck, okay— fucking show me.”

Your heart hammered with nerves, but you nodded. You held your hand out and spit into it, mimicking what Patrick had done before you wrapped your hand around his cock.

He felt bigger in your hands, but you didn’t say that. One, you worried it might piss Art off, and two, he didn’t need the ego boost. And he was slick, beading precum at his tip so each pass of your hands felt slicker and slicker.

And you couldn’t help but want to be an asshole. “You’re wet like a girl,” you said with a smirk, gliding your thumb over his tip.

And he was shameless, nodding with a sly grin. “That means I like you.” He panted, moaning softly. “Besides, I bet your fucking panties aren’t dry right now.”

Well, fuck. You tried to ignore the rush of heat in your belly that those words caused, to focus only on the glide of your hand on Patrick’s cock— up and down, copying his pace on Art, copying the ways he’d squeeze and twist his hand.

Art was moaning, rutting up into the tight sheath of Patrick’s fist, the muscles of his abdomen tensing and relaxing in unsteady jerks beneath his soft skin.

“Fuck— switch, switch,” Patrick said quickly. Art whined when Patrick stopped touching him, but it was ignored. “Want you to feel it when he comes.”

He guided your hand back onto Art’s cock and nodded for you to move. “Fuck, your hand’s so soft,” Art groaned. “Faster, faster, fuck—“ He was practically begging. You swallowed, increased the pace, squeezed him a little tighter.

Art was touching Patrick— jerking him off while you brought him closer and closer to finishing. Patrick leaned in, kissed you deeply, pulled Art in too until the three of you were a mess of tongues and lips and spit and hands.

Art came first— coating your hand in warm, slick cum, throbbing in your grip. He was panting into your and Patrick’s mouths, moaning softly as you continued to slowly work him through it. Patrick came next, once Art redoubled his effort, focused on making Patrick add to the mess covering your hands.

Patrick was loud, pornographic, messy. Art brought a cum covered hand between his lips, cleaning it up. Your eyes widened.

“Art, c’mon, you’re scandalizing her,” Patrick said, like you weren’t even there.

“Shut up,” you said, shoving him. He laughed and pulled his boxers back up. Art followed suit, and the three of you were left gross and sweating in the heat. You wiped your hand off on one of their discarded shirts and gave a sheepish smile.

They sat there, expectantly. Waiting for you to make the next call. There was a level of want in you, need, but the thought of asking for them to take care of it was mortifying. “Do you want to watch a movie or something now?”

[ervotica]

you’re an angel, i’m a dog — a.donaldson

pairing; older!art donaldson x fem!reader

warnings; roughly written, badly edited, not beta’d (because when is it ever?), allusions to smut, implied age gap (reader is early 20s, art is early 30s), slight tashi x fem!reader if you squint, infidelity (but tashi is kinda cool with it), just some thoughts about older!art and his pretty girl

a/n; this concept has been eating at me for daysss so i had to write it at least roughly! should we make this a series? (maybe get patrick involved?🫢) let me know what you think! ART & CHALLENGERS (poly!art & patrick) REQUESTS ARE OPEN! any questions / conversation starters about this particular au are highly appreciated and encouraged!! please come to my inbox 📥 <3

older!art is fucking obsessed with you— you, who comes to every one of his matches, who sits next to his wife in those adorable little tennis skirts you sport just for him, who whoops and cheers from the stands whether he wins or loses.

you’re forbidden fruit. so, naturally, he adores you.

tashi knows, because of course she does. she never pries, never so much as spares you a second glance when he wraps his arms around you and buries his face in your neck and huffs hot air against the shell of your ear. she doesn’t care — you’ve made art better at tennis.

his confidence has skyrocketed since having a pretty thing like you cheering him on, his biggest and most enthusiastic supporter. he plays better, he second guesses himself less, he’s more relaxed.

you’re what’s been missing. the last piece of the puzzle.

an obedient little thing, glued to his side, wagging like a dog at his every command.

he fucking loves it. loves having someone relying on him for love and validation. loves the way you preen under his fervent gaze and flutter your lashes at the slightest touch.

when tashi asks you to join art’s team officially, you almost keel over.

“look, i don’t care that he’s fucking you… or that he’s in love with you. he has a shot at the us open this year, and he needs you by his side to do it.” she says. you’re quick to agree, ever obedient and desperate to please.

“he’s in love with me?”

she scoffs. “you’ve seen the way he looks at you. he almost creams his pants every time you’re in the same room as him.” she tilts your chin upwards with a crooked finger, giving your cheek an affectionate - albeit condescending - pat.

“you two can have your fun— but he has to win this year.”

art’s perched against the doorframe when you turn, corded forearms crossed over his chest. you scrunch your nose, pushing back a smile that crinkles at your eyes despite your efforts.

fucking smitten.

tashi rolls her eyes, a half smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and she nudges you towards him.

“go on.”

he opens his arms in greeting and you’re quick to fall into them, your fingers knotting in the shorn hair at his nape. his chest expands beneath your own as he takes a long breath, and he presses his nose to your pulse point, shuddering.

“love you.” he murmurs into your skin.

“love you more.”

he could cry; he doesn’t remember the last time someone told him they loved him and meant it. you’re obsessed with him, almost as much as he is with you.

at his next match, you carry his rackets and send him off with a good luck kiss that has him breathless, grinning as you roll his wad of gum between your teeth that you sucked right from his waiting mouth.

he wins.

how could he not with his pretty girl watching?

and that night, he rewards you with a thorough fucking, whispered love confessions against your lips, and a breathy moan as he cums that you won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

so, yeah. maybe this life isn’t so bad, after all.

[midwestprincesss]

a/n: reposted this again cause for some reason the original one w the ask barely surfaced like. anyone .

contents: sub patrick my beloved, reader is a lil funny, patrick is #1 in the slut Olympics, finger sucking, p in v, more stuff. blah blah blah.

patrick zweig is a whore.

if you look up "whore" online, a picture of patrick comes up. you told him that. he didn't take it well.

"i'm not a whore!" he protested. he didn't sound sure of it either, though. and the very obvious boner under his sweatpants spoke for itself.

"patrick, you're literally hard. i didn't even do anything" you deadpanned, staring him right in the eye.

he scoffed then took the pillow next to him and covered his growing erection with it. "you're wearing that shirt again. you know how i feel about it"

you looked down at your shirt. it was an " I ❤️ Art" top which you got at one of art's recent matches, as a joke. (but you really did love art though)

you laughed. "this shirt gets you hard? i mean, patrick, i know how you feel about art, but, a shirt that only mentions him? c'mon man"

"UGHH." patrick groaned as his face turned red. "it's the way the text stretches because of your tits, okay? fuck you."

"i don't know about you fucking me, but me, on the other hand, i'll be glad to do it" you smirked, proud of the little pun you just made.

patrick's hips bucked up into the pillow at that. "yes, please. god, just fuck me. i've been hard the whole day." he cried.

"you've been hard the whole day? how did you manage to actually get through the day without jerking off?" you joked, referencing, well, his slutty tendencies.

patrick blinked and looked around the room suspiciously. "i uh. i did. like two times." he admitted.

"WHAT?!" you screeched. "but- when the fuck?! i was with you like the whole day. except for when you went to the bathroom that one time"

"well. i jerked off then. once" he said.

"and the other time?" you asked.

"uh." he held back. "i uh, i came in my pants. just a few minutes ago when you called me a whore."

your eyes widened. "well then, i was right, wasn't i?"

"i guess so." he said, hips still bucking into the pillow.

"then i gotta treat you like a whore too." you said and took the pillow from his hands and threw it on the floor. immediately straddling his lap, you started making out with him. messily. he moaned into your mouth as you explored his with your tongue. he bit your lip and you pulled back, mouth open, pretending you're going in for more. only to pull back when his mouth chases your again. he moans again. this time, because of frustration.

"don't fucking tease me, i'm so hard, fuck. and i'm so wet, just take my boxers off. please. i'll let you do anything you want to me if you take them off." he pleaded.

you raised your eyebrow at him. "i can do anything i want to you, even if you don't let me." you giggled. "but just to be nice, i'll take them off."

and shit, he was right. his boxers were fucking drenched. of cum, thanks to the fact that he had came in his pants. like the slut he is.

"hey uh. you have a bit of boxers in your cum." you couldn't help but joke.

you grabbed his jaw, softly, and then slammed him back onto the pillow, right hand all over his face. then, as your fingers reached his mouth, he immediately parted his lips and took them in, sucking on them while holding eye contact. you let him have his fun for a couple of seconds, then tried removing them in order to take off his boxers. he didn't like that.

"put them back." he whined, as he took your two fingers and put them back in his mouth, pressing them against his tongue. "i can take my boxers off by myself."

his little high-pitched moans filled the room, all while not even being touched by you yet. he finally let go of your fingers with a loud pop.

you looked at his pretty dick resting on his stomach. he was really, really fucking big. girthy too. pink, wet tip with a brown-ish base, slightly curved to the left. just right to hit that one spot in your pussy you couldn't reach by yourself.

"please. please. please. pleas-" he started. only you cut him off. he did this often. repeating the world "please" until you sucked him off. or fucked him. or did anything, really. anything other than staring at him and not touching.

"shut it, zweig. i'll only fuck you if you convince me with your words, but you're not allowed to say please. if you say please, i'll leave you like this." you smile confidently at him. his dick was fucking twitching. thighs squeezing every now and then, even with you straddling him. he was doing everything in his power not to lose his shit and jerk himself off.

but he still put on that patrick zweig signature smirk. challenge accepted.

"i need you to fuck me until i can't speak coherently anymore. i need you to fuck me like if you don't do it, we'll both die. fuck me so hard that my eyes will roll to the back of my head for you. ride me until i start crying. just do it. i'm so hard it hurts. i need you-" he whimpered, trying to get his dick somehow closer to you.

and with that you took off your panties, and lined up your entrance with his dick. not sinking down on him yet.

"will you eat me out after this?" you ask.

" is that even a questi- OH FUCKK" he moaned, like someone straight from a pornographic movie. you started bouncing up and down on his cock, all while kissing and sucking at the skin of his neck, shoulders and chest. you went rough with him. but you knew that he was going to stay hard even after cumming the third time, so you didn't hold back at all.

after all, he was going to pay you back. considerably a good amount of times.

[kolsmikaelson]

— ART DONALDSON NSFW ALPHABET

NOTES — been deep in my mike faist era for the longest time and i’m so obsessed w art it’s bad, so here we are! hope you enjoy <3.

WARNINGS — 18 + content mdni, fem!reader, not proofread

join my taglist or follow @rodrickhefley to see when i post

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

needy as fuck. he’ll grab his shirt that had been tossed to the floor to clean you up quickly before tossing it back onto the floor and just wrapping himself around you, keeping his head on your chest.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he looooves his arms, he always liked them, but maybe how much you like them is what made them his favorite. he’s obsessed with your legs, he loves the way they feel when they’re wrapped around his head while he’s eating you out or how they feel wrapped around his waist when he’s pounding into you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he loves to cum on your tits. it’s his favorite place to cum, other than inside of you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

the two of you met in college, when he was much less experienced, so one time when patrick is visiting he recruits him into teaching him how to fuck you better. art knew he was alright but he wanted to be great for you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

not super experienced, sure he’d fooled around some before he met you but that’s about it. with some help from patrick he definitely knows what he’s doing.

F = Favorite position ( goes without saying)

cowgirl. he’s a tit guy and loves that he can see your tits bouncing in his face while you’re riding him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

it can go either way, usually he’s a little on the goofy side, but sometimes, after a bad match he’s not in the mood to be goofy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

not clean shaved by any means but he keeps everything under control.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

the most romantic. showering you with love and affection is all that he wants to do <3.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

used to jerk off so often, but as the two of you got older he did it less and less but maybe that’s because you were always there to do it for him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

praise kink (giving or receiving), size kink, spit kink, little bit of a mommy kink if he’s feeling really needy.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

his dorm, his car (but only if parked in a decently secluded place), or the shower.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

winning gets him going, the adrenaline from the game and from winning gets the best of him every time.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

no choking, you specifically, every once in a while he’d be okay with you lightly squeezing his throat while you’re on top of him riding him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

definitely prefers giving, he’d spend as long as you let him finding out what makes you tick, exploring every inch of your cunt, but he’d never turn down a blowjob if offered.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

both! but usually fast and rough.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he loves them. a quickie before a match or before you leave for class, always put you both in a good mood.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

yes and no, it just depends on what you or he wanted to try. but he’d always at least consider it for a while if you were to ask to try something new.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

2-3 rounds usually, sometimes it could be 4. he lasts a decent while, as long as he gets you off first then he’ll let himself cum, though sometimes he’s cum in his pants when he’s eating you out but really it’s a win-win situation.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he’ll use your vibe on you every once in a while but usually he’s not huge on toy usage. but he’s not completely against it either.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he gets better at it over time but you’re usually the one doing all the teasing instead of him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

so loud, he’s always whimpering and whining and moaning in your ear.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

just like patrick, he’d try and feel put how you felt about having a threesome with patrick, because at the end of the day, whether they’d admit it or not they’re not complete without the other but that doesn’t mean he loves you any less, because trust that man to be absolutely obsessed with you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

a good 5-6 inches soft, and pretty girthy too. and he knows just how to use it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

pretty high. he’s obsessed with you and obsessed with fucking you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

oh he’s out like a light. his eyes are droopy when he’s cleaning you up but the moment his head falls onto your chest, he’s done for.

© kolsmikaelson : please do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.

[makeyoumine69]

Hey! I don't know how to ask you this, but can you please do breeding kink fic from Patrick's POV? Thank you anyway!💋

HELLO NONNIE! 🥰 Breeding kink is my everything! *dying*

Captivated by your shaky breaths, the way you writhed beneath me, I kept thinking that I was about to lose control. I wanted nothing more than to ruin your pretty little body, to ravage you, and I could care less about your pathetic attempts to stop me. But I couldn't do that, not now, knowing that soon your belly would swell with the life we were both going to create.

Running a finger along your trembling lips, I descended to your neck. "You said you wanted to carry my child, right?"

Strained, you only nodded in response, but I wanted you to say that—I needed that. In one swift movement, I turned you to look at me, your big, beautiful eyes now mirroring mine. "Use your words, sweetheart, I want to hear you say this."

Your furrowed eyebrows and shyness almost made me want to stick my thumb deep into your mouth, but then you finally began to speak. "Yes, Patrick," you licked the tip of my finger, driving me completely wild. "Please... put a baby inside me."

Oh, God. There was no way I could resist when you talked like that.

And then I stuffed my thumb into your warm mouth, which you gladly accepted and sucked on as if it were your pacifier. "You're such a good girl," I rasped, nipping at your neck. "So good for me."

Without waiting, I pulled your hips up and placed a pillow under your ass so I could fuck you deep, I wanted you to feel all of me, every fucking inch, and you were gonna like it. A shaky squeal vibrated around my finger as I brushed my hard dick against your succulent pussy, so wet and ready to take me.

"I'm gonna fill you up with my cum, doll," my voice wavered with excitement, I could feel the blood pounding against my eardrums as I stroked myself several times before I teased your swollen clit with the tip of my thick cock. "And then you'll give me a child."

"A-ahh, Patrick," you whimpered, closing your eyes as I slowly and deliberately rammed into you. "You… you're so big-mhhm!"

Letting out a guttural grunt, I pushed myself further, enjoying your little sobs as I stretched you out so deliciously I could sense your velvety inner walls encasing my dick, inducing me to hold back my breath for a moment before I fully sheathed myself inside your dripping cunt.

"Jesus, you're already clinging to me," I drawled in total ecstasy, gripping your gorgeous hips to keep you still. "Keep your legs open for me, honey."

I watched you desperately clutching the sheets with pure delight, knowing you wouldn't last long as your tight pussy encircled around me like a vine. "Pat…Patrick...it's so d-deep!"

Eventually your voice was like white noise as I concentrated on fucking you, a loud slapping sound of our bodies colliding mixed with your wanton screams soon filled my bedroom. I could swear that no one else was making such noises, urging me to thrust harder, pinning you against the bed.

"Oh, I know, baby," I drew close to your embarrassed face, kissing you briefly to calm you down a bit before shifting my weight to my hands, trapping you completely under my muscular body. "I know, but you can take it."

"Pat…" You cried out as I bent your leg and pressed it against my torso, making the penetration even deeper. "Mmhm, Patrick!"

"Shhh," I pecked your forehead gently, but kept my pace pretty brutal. "I'm here," I murmured in a praising tone, putting my hands under your back to hold you even closer, encouraging you to wrap your legs around my waist. And when you did, I couldn't help but smirk devilishly. "Let it go, babe. Let me feel you clenching around me."

Overwhelmed with unbridled passion, I was ready to use every little detail I remembered about you. For example, you loved to feel protected and adored, and I was so eager to do that and give you everything I had. When I noticed your legs quivering along my back, I rolled my hips against yours, hitting all the right spots inside of you, and the next moment I felt you spasming around my throbbing cock, milking it deliciously.

"Mmhm, fuck," I cursed under my breath before brushing my messy hair away so I could peck your forehead. "Good girl, I'm so proud of you."

And I really was proud of you, your courage and obedience took me higher, I felt the pulsation cursing through my whole body, starting at my tensed balls and going right up to my very brain. Thrusting into your malleable body with pure abandon, I finally surrendered to the crashing wave of pleasure that washed over me, spurring me to unload my fertile seed deep into your womb. The vision of you carrying my child flashed through my mind, increasing my climax so that I had to hold you tighter because you were mine and I'd never let you go.

Never.

[sceletaflores]

Advantage, Duncan.

pairing: stanford!tashi duncan x fem!reader

summary: tashi duncan doesn’t get on her knees for anyone, but she did for you. after that night she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d let you slip away from her.

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

word count: 2.7k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, girl kissing, oral (fem!receiving), fingering (only barely but fem!receiving), somewhat public sex (in a locker room lmao), cheating but not really, love confessions kind of, lowkey manipulative!tashi but barely, patrick getting shit on like always, porn with a dash of plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: back on my wlw cheater bullshit! so glad to be here! i centered this whole fic around a locker room sex scene. it just sort of spiraled into this cause you know i love being messy. once again no one requested this i'm being selfish lmao but i need more tashi fics on my masterlist! hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.

Tashi’s sneakers squeak quietly as she makes her way back to the locker room. Sweat drying on her brow and adrenaline still buzzing in her veins despite the match being over. It was an easy win, Northridge had been slipping down the ranks the longer the season went on and the girl had a shit backhand.

The first thing Tashi did after shaking hands and posing for pictures was text you. She left the locker room door cracked open for you. The thought of you sitting there alone waiting patiently for her behind that door made her almost giddy enough to skip the rest of the way down the hall.

This was something like a tradition for you guys now, meeting in the locker room after her matches. Something that started a little after the two of you met a couple months ago. It was the last tournament she had before the fall semester started. The court was owned by some snobby Northern California country club that your dad happened to be president of. He stuck you in the ball crew for the summer so he could watch you keep you busy and make sure you stayed out of trouble, joke's on him. 

You were the first thing she noticed the second she stepped on the court, but how could she not? You in your cute flowy linen shorts and matching white top. A light blue visor strapped to your head. Tashi immediately got why guys have that primal, desperate urge to impress pretty girls they just met. She showed off more in that match than she had in a long time, running the girl on the other end of the court ragged.

Tashi wanted you to notice her, to see how dominating she was, to be impressed by her. Every time she hit a perfect shot, her eyes would dart to you, checking if you were watching, and you were. 

You were practically gawking at her, eyes all wide and admiring as your head snapped back and forth with every smack of the ball. 

It was perfect, you were gravitating towards her more with every new set exactly like she wanted you to. By the time she won you were watching her with stars in your eyes, gaze trailing after her every move like you were a sunflower and she was the sun. And even though lots of people have looked at her that way, you were the only one she looked back at. It made Tashi’s skin buzz with something she’d never felt outside of tennis. 

She was swept away for pictures and press before she could talk to you, but there was a party later that night thrown in honor of the players at the club's banquet hall. Tashi was standing at the bar when you slid up next to her, introducing yourself with adoration swirling in your eyes and a shy smile on your glossy lips. Tashi let herself smile right back as she shook your hand for a little longer than normal.

Two hours later and she had you in one of the hall’s many bathrooms with your Dior dress hiked up around your hips and her tongue on your pussy. She can still remember every detail of that moment. The fruity notes of your perfume, the way you tasted, how sweetly you moaned her name with your voice so breathy and desperate.

Tashi Duncan doesn’t get on her knees for anyone, but she did for you. After that night she knew there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d let you slip away from her.

Now, as she pushed open the locker room door and saw you sitting on the long bench in the center of the room, just like always, she felt a surge of possessiveness and longing. The sight of you waiting for her, so patient and devoted, made something dangerously close to love burn hot in her chest.

“Took you long enough,” you tease, standing up to greet her. You’re wearing one of her shirts, DUNCANATOR stretched across your chest in blocky red letters.

She dropped her bag at her feet, quickly crossing the room until she was close enough to pull you into a tight hug, burying her face in your neck. She was still sweaty but you didn’t care, arms coming up to wrap around her shoulders.

“I missed you,” she murmured, her voice a little too intense, her grip a little too tight. 

You laugh, your hands giving her shoulders a tiny squeeze. “It’s only been like an hour, Tash.” 

An hour felt like a whole year to her at this point. Tashi hated being away from you, hated not knowing what you were doing, who you were with, what you were thinking. She wanted to be the center of your world, just like you were so quickly becoming the center of hers. Steadily elbowing tennis inch by inch just to try and make enough room in her heart for something else. 

Tashi pulled away from you, taking a second to scan her eyes over your face. You were so beautiful, so perfect and sweet for her. She raised her hand to cup the side of your face, thumb swiping across the skin of your cheekbone a few times. You were flushed from sitting out in the sun, skin warm and soft to the touch.

She leans in without thinking, pressing her lips against yours. You taste like coconut lip balm and Pepsi. Tashi’s hand tightens its hold on your waist, pulling you in impossibly closer. She felt you sigh contently against her lips, lazily kissing back as easy as anything. Tashi felt like if she focused hard enough, that she could feel your heartbeat pounding where your chest met hers.

She swipes her tongue across your bottom lip, her hands making their way down to the small of your back to slip her fingertips under the waistband of your shorts. Your lips parted the slightest bit before you were pulling away with a small whine, pushing off her shoulders to create distance between the two of you. Tashi let her hands fall from your body as you take a small step backwards, immediately missing the warmth you took with you.

She was confused by the sudden shift in your mood until she saw the look on your face. The absolute picture of guilt, your brows furrowed enough to make a tiny crease in the middle of your forehead with your lip drawn between your teeth. Your eyes are droopy and sad as you wearily gaze at her from a few feet away. Tashi suppresses the overwhelming urge to sigh, brow raised as she stares back at you, waiting.

“I…” you trail off, wrapping your arms around yourself slowly. “I actually needed to talk to you, Tashi.”

‘Here we go.’ She thinks dryly, internally rolling her eyes. She can already tell she’s going to have to talk you down, again. She really should have expected this, you bringing up Patrick, you’ve done it enough times to be a trend. It’s been so long since the last time you said anything she was hoping you finally dropped it, apparently not.

Tashi doesn’t respond right away, just tilting her head slightly as she watches you. You shuffle uncomfortably in place, your eyes looking anywhere but her. She can see you take a steadying breath, trying to hype yourself up before you speak again.

“This is wrong,” Your voice is unconvincing, meek and soft. Tashi would laugh if she didn’t want to hurt your feelings. “What we’re doing, it’s wrong. It’s not fair to poor Patrick.”

It’s almost funny, how genuine you're being, how bad you truly feel for Patrick.

Poor, poor Patrick. Yeah fucking right. 

‘Poor Patrick’ is on tour right now probably sticking his dick in anyone that’ll let him. He’s nothing. A momentary lapse in judgment when you and Tashi went a few weeks without talking. She was hurt and vulnerable, two things she’s not used to feeling. She needed to feel in control of something again to stop her from going crazy, Patrick was easy enough.

When the two of you started talking again, she shut that shit down immediately. She was reminded of what a monumental waste of time Patrick is and pushed him to the furthest, most unimportant corner of her brain. She didn’t need him anymore, not when she had you again.

Tashi finally lets out a small sigh, more out of impatience than exasperation. She steps closer, her gaze hardening. "You really think he cares?" Her voice is low, controlled, but there's an edge to it. "Patrick doesn't need your pity. He's fine. He always is."

Your eyes widen at her words, the guilt on your face deepening. "But—"

“No.” Tashi cuts you off sharply, jaw set stubbornly. “Listen to me, Patrick is nothing. He’s just dick. He’ll never be more than just dick.” She takes another step towards you, closing the gap you made. “He doesn’t care about us, about this.” She motions between the two of you, her voice raising slightly as she speaks.

You swallow hard, arms tightening around yourself defensively as you stare at her with watery eyes. 

Tashi's whole demeanor softens, the anger draining from her body at the hurt look on your face. She would never speak to you like that, it’s just Patrick that really pisses her off. He’s not even here and he’s still managing to fuck with her. She steps even closer, her hand reaching out to gently lift your chin, forcing you to look at her. 

Your name falls from her lips, warm and wrapped in velvet, her thumb traces along your bottom lip slowly. "We have something real," she whispers fiercely, grip tightening on your chin just a fraction. "Something he could never understand. Don't let him ruin that. Don't let him ruin us."

You nod slowly, eyes big and shiny with unshed tears. It’s not good enough, Tashi can tell that you’re still apprehensive. You’re still worried, still guilty even with her reassurance. She can’t have that. If she doesn’t get you to drop this, you’ll let it consume you enough to try something stupid, like leaving her. Tashi refuses to let that even be an option.

If she can’t convince you with words, she can convince you through her actions. 

Tashi needs to drive home the point that sparing Patrick’s feelings isn’t something you need to be worried about, clearly tough love isn’t going to work on you. If she has to get on her knees to help make you understand, then she will.

She leans in slowly, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your breath catches slightly, held for only a second before you finally relax. Not completely, just enough for her to feel it. She keeps going, dragging kisses from your cheek up to your ear.

“Patrick is nothing compared to you.” she whispers directly into your ear, dropping your chin to start sliding her hand slowly down your front. “You’re so much better than him,” her hand stops at the hem of your shorts, tugging the button open with one sharp yank. You gasp sharply, hand flying up to grip her bicep tightly. Your eyes flick to the door, open and unlocked, but you’re not pushing her away, not trying to stop her. 

Tashi leans down, trailing kissing across the soft skin of your throat. “You’re everything.” She slips her hand into your shorts and down the front of your soft panties, her fingertips barely graze the slick skin of your pussy before you’re moaning.

“Fuck.” your hand squeezes her arm tighter, nails digging little crescent moons into her skin as she slides her index finger through the wetness gathering at your entrance. 

You’re so wet, completely drenching her hand in seconds. She teases you, barely pushing her finger past your tight hole as she licks a dirty stripe up the center of your throat. You whine, a desperate, too loud noise that bounces off the walls. Slowly, she breaches your entrance, sinking her finger up to the knuckle in the tight warmth of your pussy.

She watches you, takes in the needy look on your pretty face. So worked up for a single finger, so desperate for it that your hips cant down to get her deeper inside you. The wet squelch of her finger thrusting in and out of you sounds even dirtier, amplified by the room's echo. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Her tone is soft but final, like she’s stating a fact. She stares at you as she fucks her finger faster in and out of your fluttering pussy, gaze intense and unwavering. You stare back like a deer in headlights, silent except for the sharp pants falling from your slick, parted lips. That’s okay, you don’t need to do any of the talking anyway.

Tashi nips at the sensitive skin of your collarbone once before she’s dropping to her knees on the cold concrete. Her greedy hands gripping the waistband of your shorts and yanking them down your legs roughly, your lilac panties quickly follow. You gasp sharply, the cool air of the room hitting your bare pussy. “Tash-” 

Tashi cuts you off, leaning forward to slip your clit between her lips. You throw your head back, your loud moan echoing through the room. She swirls her tongue over the sensitive skin of your clit, exactly how you like it. You’re already so worked up, she knows this won’t take long.

Her mouth works you over expertly, licking and sucking and mouthing hungrily at your dripping pussy. She teases the tip of her tongue along your clenching hole, so desperate to be filled by the strap sitting in a old box on the highest shelf of her closet. Her thighs clench at the thought, you bouncing on her dick, wrecked and spent on the sheets of her bed. She pushes the idea to the back of her mind, you always have later for that. Right now, she’s focused on making you come on her tongue. 

Tashi can tell you’re getting close. Your breathing changes, gets heavier, even more little moans and whines falling from your lips each time her nose presses against your clit just right. Your fingers slide into her hair as you start to roll your hips, chasing her mouth. 

“God, Tashi–!” Your thighs shake on either side of her head, hands twisting her hair in your grip roughly. “Shit, yes–fuck! I’m gonna come–” Your hips start to grind against her tongue even faster as you got closer to the edge.

Tashi lets you use her face to get off, her hands sliding up and down the side of your thighs soothingly as you come. She works you through your orgasm, her tongue sliding along your sensitive skin until you’re physically pulling her away.

Tashi presses one last kiss to your hip before she stands, pulling your shorts and panties back up your legs as she does. You’re still trying to catch your breath, leaning up against the lockers as she buttons your zipper for you. Your face is flushed and sweaty, your eyes are glossed over and hazy. She smiles, giving you a soft kiss with your release still coating her lips and tongue. You kiss back regardless, slow and sweet like molasses. 

Tashi pulls away first, giving your cheek a quick tap before stepping away to pick up her bag up off the floor. “Come on,” she offers you her hand, nodding her head towards the door. “Let’s go get frozen yogurt.” 

You smile, making your way across the room to slide your hand into hers. Tashi goes to push the door open, but you stay in place, tugging her hand back. When she turns to face you, there’s a look on your face she hasn’t seen before. “You’re everything too.” 

Your tone is so sincere, so genuine that she feels her heart grow three sizes. Your eyes sparkle as you stare at her like she’s a God. It’s exactly what she wanted. She smiles, giving your hand a hard squeeze and finally dragging you out of the locker room.

Duncan: Game, Set, Match.

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[c4llahansgirl]

pathetic

pairings . art donaldson x stepsis!reader

cw . pathetic sub art, masturbation, art calls reader “mama”,“mommy”

a/n . kinda obsessed w art and patrick. kinda need them.

“quiet, art.”

it was pathetic, really. even on the court, art never knew how to shut up, loud whimpers erupting from his throat each time his racket hit the ball. figures he’d be worse in bed.

he knew coming back from college for the holidays would be, at the very least, eventful. he was slightly scared, intimidated. she scared him, she was amazing with a ball and racket, she had great footing, she took care of her body, and she was gorgeous. as wrong as it was, who wouldn’t be in love with her?

“please mama, i need it, need you” art pleaded, whining as he pressed kisses along her inner thigh. he was sat on his knees at her feet, arms wrapped around her thigh. the foot he wasn’t hugging toyed with the bulge in art’s boxers, a pool of precum staining the fabric.

she stare down at him, deadpan. she taps the side of his face, snapping and pointing to the edge of her freshly made bed. “sit, now.”

her demands made his cock twitch violently. art scrambled to sit up, messily plopping himself on her bed. she struts over to him, her hand finding the tip of his chin, pulling his gaze to meet hers as she towers over him.

“so pretty art, you’re so pretty y’know that?” her hand switches to hold his chin in her palm, a possessive grip on him. he kisses her hand, nuzzling into it. “thank you mama”

her free hand falls down his chest towards his boxers, her thumb pressing against his clothed tip. he holds back a whine, his eyes fluttering shut.

“so pathetic,” she starts “look at you art, chasing and begging for your step sister’s touch. you couldn’t wait to get away from me at Stanford. isn’t that right?”

art shakes his head, making a ‘nuh uh’ noise. his arms wrap around her waist, his eyes big and needy as they stay locked on hers. “no, not- not at all i think about you every day ma, all day every day.” he kisses her wrist in between words, pulling her as close to him as possible.

she smirks, her hands moving up to push his hair back. “you fuck your fist to me? hm?” she barely finished before he started nodding, mewling when her knee accidentally presses against his boner.

“show me.”

and now, nation-wide famous college tennis player art donaldson, sat pathetically as he worked his hand on his aching cock for his step-sister. he presses kisses to the curve of her tits, his hand brushing against her thighs every time he reached his tip. he held back loud whimpers, resting his forehead on her chest as he huffed and puffed.

she smiled, pure joy painted across her face. “thats it honey, fuck yourself for your sister” he moaned almost pornographically, his hips bucking.

“ma- mommy i’m clo- oh- se” his eyes shut tightly, his lip’s pressed tightly together. his toes curled into the carpet and his back arched a little, his left hand death gripping her thigh as thick, hot, white ropes of cum spilled over his right, and her thighs.

he panted, letting both his hands fall and his eyes flutter open to the mess he’d made.

“you’re hard again,”

he whines. “i know”

[marishoodie7]

How slashers would react to you getting on top

Includes: Billy Loomis, Charlie Walker, Patrick Bateman

Content Warning: 18+! P in v, overstimulation, riding

(No pronouns mentioned, but reader has female anatomy!)

***

: ̗̀➛ Billy

Your head was hitting the headboard with every thrust, his cock buried deep inside you. You forced your eyes open, “Fuck Billy,” you managed.

He grunted in response. You braced your hands on his shoulder and wrapped your legs around his hips. You rocked to the side and flipped him over. His dick slammed into you, even deeper and you moaned as you made yourself comfortable on him.

The strands of hair that had been flopping around had flattened on his forehead. His demeanor changed and he gave you a sly smile, his eyes darkened and his moved his hands to your hips. You rocked back and forth, slowly bouncing on him before finding a steady pace. You bit your lip as you neared your release, a tight knot that had formed in your stomach was unraveling slowly as you neared release.

Your legs shook and your walls clenched tightly around his dick. Billy bucked his hips up sloppily to meet you halfway before going limp. He let out a deep moan and came. You slowed your movements and gave one last bounce before coming onto him. You laid down on his chest and drifted off to sleep as he praised your performance that night.

:➛ Charlie Walker

“Let me take care of you this time.” You urged.

“Fuck, okay,” Charlie gasped as you stroked his cock, “Jesus.” You smiled at his reaction and gently pushed him onto the bed.

“Lie down.” You commanded. You lowered yourself onto him, his dick stretched out your walls. You didn’t know Charlie was so big. You put your hands on his chest and started to roll your hips. He felt so good inside you. You sped up and Charlie’s eyes rolled up into his head, he whimpered as you clenched around his hardened cock.

He bucked upward and desperately grasped at your hips. Hot tears were streaming down his face, and you could feel his dick twitch inside you. He was close, but you had no plans to stop or slow down.

“Fuck, y/n.” He whimpered as he came. You fucked him right through his orgasm, his face was reddening with overstimulation, his eyes were clenched. His hips stop bucking and he let you do all the work, guiding him towards his next orgasm.

Charlie moaned as he nearing his next release, you were getting closer too, but you didn’t stop, you couldn’t. A hot feeling filled you as you came on him. You rolled your hips a few more times before pulling off before Charlie could come. He lay on the bed, whimpering.

“Poor Charlie,” you tutted, without sympathy, “you were such a good boy but I couldn’t let you come this time.” You tan your fingers through his hair as his breath slowed and lost its raggedness. He turned to you and smiled.

“we’re gonna need to do that again sometime.”

: ➛ Patrick Bateman

Patrick drilled into your ass. He loved to hear the pretty screams of pleasure you let out as he fucked you. You were on all fours on the bed and Patrick was grunting above you. He pulled out suddenly and lay down on the bed, his dick rock solid and standing up, and his arms around his head.

“Why don’t we try something different?” He suggested casually as if he hadn’t been pounding into you a moment earlier.

“So you want me to ride you?” You deadpanned. You wouldn’t be opposed to the idea. You had been dreaming of the day where you would get to take charge.

“Yes.” He grinned. You couldn’t help but smile back as you pushed yourself onto him. He tangled his hand into your hair and braced himself for you to quicken the pace. You dig your fingers into his shoulders and sped up, rocking your hips back and forth. His length was stretching out your walls and you could feel his tip hit your g-spot.

You tried to throw your head back but he pulled your hair and forced your face closer to his.

“There you go, slut, ride me like the whore you are. I know how eager you were to wrap my dick around your pussy.” He growled in your ear. Your legs shook and you felt warmth spread through your body. You came on him, and tried to slow down your pace. He only tugged harder and encouraged you to keep going, no matter how sloppy you got.

“Come baby, just ride me a little longer, you got it.” He praised. His dick twitched and he finally released. Your core warmed when it was met with his thick, hot ropes. You unmounted him and slid next to him in the bed. He wrapped his arms around you.

“I should really let you take control more, huh?” He laughed.

“Yeah,” you smiled, “that wasn’t half bad.”

A/N: this is my first time doing head cannons like this! There may be more in the future who know? I hope you enjoyed!

[poppy-metal]

NEED to be tashi’s innocent stepsister who Patrick’s just obsessed with whilst he’s dating her. Your sister is your whole world, Patrick can see that. You look at tashi like she hung the moon in the sky herself and if he looks too closely he can see the lust for her in your eyes, buried beneath all that admiration.

So of course he decides to be proactive about it. One night he’s staying over at your parent’s place and as the evening rolls around he fucks tashi. Like fucks her, making sure she’s gushed over his cock at least three times, making him alllll nice and wet. He waits for her to fall asleep and sneaks into your room to shove his cock in your mouth.

At first you’re a bit dubious about it, you would never want to hurt your sister but as soon as that sweet, tangy, indescribable taste hits your tongue you can’t help but go to town on his hard cock.

“You like that?” He teases you from above, jerking his hips mercilessly into your mouth “taste good?”

You gargle out something akin to an agreement before he’s bending down to groan into your ear “you better savour that shit up, that’s the taste of your sister’s pussy”

Might come off anon might not but for the time being can I pretty please be ur sweet 🐉 if it’s not taken?

🐉 when I catch you,,,,, when i catch you,,,,,

hhhhh you hate that patrick has power over you and you even more that you kinda like it - it was easier when he was just tashi's dumbfuck boyfriend you hated for stealing her attention. you were so sure you were sneaky about it, your admiration innocent in appearance - your preening under her attention just the sweetness of a younger sister. no one had to know you stole your big step!sisters panties and rubbed your pussy raw while you sniffed them. no one had to know you secretly seethed with jealousy when she regailed a story about how she fucked a girl on her strap once, no one had to know how you fucked yourself on your dildo imagining your big sister breaking open your virgin pussy on her big plastic cock - and when she got a stupid fucking boyfriend no one had to know you pressed your ear to the wall and humped your pillow to wet slapping sounds of patrick fucking her - the headboard slapping the very wall your ear rested against - her moans mixed with his animalistic grunts making your cunt gush - filled with so much jealousy, and want, and lust - you forgot to muffle your whimper when you came - that's what gave you away.

and when patrick started paying extra attention to you afterwards it made you uncomfortable. face flushing when he'd purposely tease you, bump his shoulder against yours when he plopped down next to you on the couch and leaned in way too close - the scent of his cologne and boy smell invading your nose and you told yourself you were grossed out by it, annoyed, scrunched your nose and shoved at him - his attention made you uncomfortable because it made you wet and you didn't want to have the hots for your stepsisters boyfriend when you already had the hots for her.

but when tashi would get all huffy and snap at patrick to leave you alone and threaten him you'd think you wanted patrick to bother you alot more if it meant tashi would get all protective over you like that. you loved when she got invested in you, that she vetted all the boys you went on dates with and hardly any of them impressed her - so you rarely dated at all.

you knew you could never have her though. she was too focused and driven - you doubted her and patrick were even serious - and you were in love with her. plus - you knew she was religious too, and even if she was okay with fucking around and having sex, you doubted fucking her little sister would be passable to her. she'd think you were gross and a pervert. she was perfect and was gonna be a tennis star and get married to a man someday and have a big family and be famous and you didn't fit into that. that didn't stop you from wanting though. from desiring. from being a freak.

freak enough to suck her boyfriends cock when he cornered you one night and confessed to knowing what a little pervert you were. you felt bad - you really did, this was tash's man, and she could act all tough and independent as much as she liked, but you knew she cared about patrick - he was cheating on her, technically, by propositioning you. the right thing would have been to tell her everything, despite what patrick might reveal about you - but you were far far far away from being a good girl.

you did try to resist, called patrick an asshole and a horrible person - you tried to be a good sister, but the second patrick gripped your hand and guided it to under his sweats, to his bare, sticky cock - and said - "v'got your sisters pussy all over my dick. you wanna taste her don't you, you little freak?"

you'd been helpless after that - and you'd always been naturally submissive, and yeah maybe you'd always admired how hot patrick was, but you'd never felt anything deeper about it, because it wasn't comparable to what you felt for tashi - but right then, at the moment, with him towering over you all intimidating and tall and his hair mussed from being in tashi's bed all night - you sunk to your knees for him, too easily.

let me be a bad sister in secret, you thought as you opened your mouth to receive patricks cock - if it meant it was the only way you'd ever get to taste your sisters cunt - you'd be fucking terrible.

patrick groans when you sink your mouth around him - his grip on your hair tight and hard. "lick the whole thing - fuck yeah, suck her off me -"

god, you really could taste her. a tangy saltiness on his cock that wasn't just his skin - the sticky film of what must have been her orgasm covering his thick shaft that you lapped at like a kitten, holding his cock up so you could lick the underside too- get every last remaint of her off his cock and onto your tongue - whining as you did it -

patrick reached down to grip himself for you, holding himself out of your way and pushing your head even further between his legs - "get my balls too. she was fuckin' drippin' all over them."

you'd given head before - albeit alot less enthusiastically then this - but you'd never given special attention to a man's balls. never had the desire too.

patricks balls are heavy things - he's got a fat sac, and you can see the individual balls inside the fleshy skin, like two well - balls, you suppose. or two ripe fruits. they hang from how full they are - the skin around them a little loose. they look meaty. the musk there is even more prominent too, more distinctive - he's got alot of fuzz down there and you should be disgusted - you know for a fact tashi isn't licking these balls, she'd said as much when she told you how much she hated giving head - and you'd agreed that it sucked, only for her to flick your forehead and tell you you shouldn't be sucking anyone's dick, because no one was good enough to be on your knees for -

and isn't that another thought? how angry she'd be at the fact that you're such a slut? on your knees and liking it. salivating at the smell of a man's sweaty balls inches from your face - she'd be so disappointed. your cunt throbs and you moan as you lean forward to lap at his sac.

your hand reaches between your legs as you explore his balls with your tongue - laving your tongue in circles across the silken flesh, suprised by how soft he is here, despite the hair, which you surprisingly don't mind - you're liking this alot more than you thought you ever would -

"fuck - knew you'd be such a fucking slut. open your mouth - " you do so eagerly, and he pushed your face almost entirely between his thick thighs, until your mouth is directly under his balls, "- yeah, just like that. shit, you're good at that."

he lowers his balls into your mouth and you close your lips around one of the fleshy stones - pulling and sucking it into your mouth with long swallows. like you're trying to pull it all the way into the back of your throat. you pull and suck pull and suck until he plops free from your mouth with a wet sound and he doesn't even have to ask before you're giving the same treatment to the other one - until his whole sac is wet and gleaming with your saliva and drool.

god, you feel insane - your mind is fuzzy - your nose is pressed up against the underside of his fat cock, hid knuckles bumping against the ridge of it because he's fucking jerking himself off while you gurgle on his nuts - he's disgusting and deplorable but you're not better, your tongue sneaking back to lick the underside of his sack, to his perineum, your head bobbing as you suck and suck and suck.

he just feels so warm in your mouth - squishy and full and the sensation is as fun as the taste is salty and good on your tongue - you're enjoying yourself so much that when he pulls you back you actually try to dive back in - forlorn as you stare at his dripping sac, wanting to go back, lap and lick and lave at them for hours -

you're not left wanting for long though, as she's soon feeding you the tip of his cock, and then more - your mouth stretching and splitting as he forces himself down your tight throat - "shittttt" he grunts, half hunched over you, and his palm slaps on the wall behind you, he looks down at you with the most debauched expression, pupils blown out, hair dark and wild, lips bitten red - and you feel a wash of pride that your mouth undid him that much - hate yourself for it -

he gets you all the way down, all the way to his thick base - until the thick thatch of hair at his pelvis, wirey and dark is brushing your upper lip and nose - he lets out the most pornographic moan that's so loud you actually feel a flash of panic that tashi will hear and coming barging in and see your mouth split wide around her boyfriends dick and - fuck why did that just make your clit pulse?

"she can't take me like this," he tells you - "she starts spitting up before I can even get - fuck - halfway down. but look at you - " he shakes your head a little, kind of jiggles it on his cock, moving it inside your mouth, and your throat constricts at the same time your pussy throbs and throbs and throbs - "you fuckin took that shit - oh fuck, if she knew what a little cocksucking slut her baby sister was - what d'you think? think she'd be proud?" his free hand comes down to cup your cheek, and he pushes against you so that his cock shifts in your mouth, pushes against the side of your cheek that he's cupping, his thumb strokes over your skin in faux tenderness.

you should bite his dick off - talking about tashi like that - so what if she can't deepthroat him? but you're so turned on, you can't help it. you can't even pinpoint why. you don't get off on the thought of hurting tashi - you'd rather kill yourself than upset her - and if you knew for certain if she knew about this and she'd cry over it, you'd gut patrick like a pig yourself.

but.

but then you think of her being proud - like he said. of her watching how much of her boyfriends cock you can take and being impressed.

you're not good at tennis - and that kills you - because it's tashis lifeblood - it's the very essence of her being. her one true love.

but what if this was something she could be impressed by? you'd always thought you'd only be happy with a guy if they were hand picked by tashi. almost like you wanted her to be there holding your hand with you on the dates you went on - there with you when you were kissing them - instructing them on how to do it, how to make it good for you - you never let them touch your cunt because in your head, you always knew, tashi would never approve of this guy taking my virginity.

obviously she approved of patrick enough for herself. and she did have high standards.

was this why you were letting this happen? you didn't know - you didn't want to analyze - it just felt good in the moment - so you moaned around him, and you reached into your panties and you touched your wet pussy as you let patrick zweig fuck your face in way he never would your sister's.

and when he cums, hot and pulsing on your tongue and down your throat - when he grunts - "stick out your tongue and show me", you open your mouth wide to show him you swallowed it all down. he grips your chin and his eyes shine with pleasure. an approval that sends shockwaves straight to your throbbing little clit.

he leans back, tucks his softening, wet cock back into his sweats - and you think he means to leave you - leave you to deal with all your conflicting emotions but then he scrubs a hand down his jaw. appraises you.

"you're a virgin?"

had tashi told him you were? or did it leak from your pores?

"what's it to you?" because, really. why did he care?

patrick tongues the inside of his cheek - and you hope he doesn't notice the way you squeeze your thighs together. you hate how fucking stupid hot he is. you wish tashi had gone for someone ugly, one of those "I don't know how he bagged her when she's a 10 and he's a 2" kinda situations, but no, because tashi was vain, and didn't date ugly people.

"I can fix that for you, if you want."

you stare at him. he'd said is so casually, like he was a math tutor offering to help you understand math homework better and not the guy dating your sister who he knew you wanted to fuck you -

"dude, what the fuck? you're dating my stepsister."

patrick raises an eyebrow. "didn't give a fuck about that when you were gargling my nuts just a second ago."

"you don't deserve her."

"yeah, no shit." he scoffs. straightens and shrugs like it's not big deal, though there was definitely a tinge of bitterness to that statement. he leaves your room, stopping at your doorframe to add, "just an offer. text me if you change your mind, yeah? we can work something out."

he slaps the top of your doorframe in a ridiculously boyish gesture as he leaves and you stare after him. dumbfounded.

of course you masturbate to the memory of the whole ordeal immediately after - still throbbing and horny from it all - and after you're left so empty and wanting, starting at your ceiling as your chest heaves up and down, and you can't help but think how similar you and patrick are, more than you'd thought. you both love tashi. you both kind of hate her for the power she holds over you. you're both kinda fucked up sexually, though patrick definitely has more experience than you.

and it's not like tashi is ever going to want you back - or actually be the one to take your virginity - so why not patrick? she'll break up with him soon, anyway. a fact even patrick seems to be aware of. it can just be a quick affair, a secret tryst. the closest you'll ever get to your big sister - and a way to scratch that perverted itch inside of you.

you last a week before you cave and text him.

[senseofnewness]

now i need a nsfw alphabet with art!! please love 💟

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I mean, of course, Art is the best at it. When it comes to taking care of you, he excels. He pulls you close and ensures you're comfortably tucked in. He treats you like royalty, always wanting to make you feel cherished and eager to stay with him. He will ask you if you need a snack, a blanket or an extra pillow. He whispers the sweetest things to you on the pillow, wanting you to know just how loved you are.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

When it comes to your body, he finds himself perpetually torn, unable to decide which part he loves most. One day, he obsesses over one feature, and the next, another captures his fascination. However, he always returns to a fixation on your perfect child-bearing hips, his hands constantly gravitating to them. Even in public, you can be sure his hands are resting on them. 

When you finally get pregnant, your stomach becomes his favorite part of you, his hands always resting on it, protecting it. He also makes you dress with clothes that accentuate it and he can never hide his proud grin when you walk into the room, flaunting yourself just for him.

As for him, he knows his ass drives you wild, your numerous compliments have made him quite confident about it. He takes to wearing tight-fitting clothes just for you and works extra hard at the gym to keep it firm.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

When you first started dating, it took him about a week to bring up contraception. He never pressured you into dropping condoms and getting on the pill, but it was clear that all he wanted was to feel you bare.

Now it's against any of his principles to come anywhere but deep inside you. It would be a waste. Art takes immense pleasure in knowing he has filled you completely with his cum, marking you as his. He wants you to keep it inside you all day, fucking the cum back in sometimes when it starts dripping. He knows how much you love his semen. You beg for it. Nothing excites him more than hearing you moan into his ear that you want him to make you babies.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Art is an underwear thief. Initially, it was a secret act he’d perform before going on tour, a way to carry a piece of you with him. The clothes, still imbued with your scent, became a source of comfort for him. He would nuzzle them and picture his face between your legs. You didn't notice at first, but then one day, he returned from tour and you discovered several pairs of your panties in his luggage. "Do you wear my underwear?" You asked playfully as he entered the room, a pair of panties dangling from your index finger. The idea thrilled you, especially when it caused Art to blush and stutter, rushing to snatch the underwear while profusely apologizing. Later, he explained that he sometimes missed you so much that his mind drove him to do these unhinged things. After that, you made a point of packing his bag with a pair of wet panties you had worn while using your vibrator, a little token of your love to keep him company.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He had a few girlfriends before you, and Patrick filled him in on plenty of wild stories with vivid details, so he's not completely clueless. While he might not be the most experienced guy, he's enthusiastic about learning. He's incredibly attentive to your pleasure, always asking what you enjoy and what feels good, so he does know what he’s doing. He understands your body intimately, perhaps better than anyone else.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He needs to see your face to come, so any position where he's facing you is a must. His favorite is when you ride him while he's sitting, face-to-face, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck and his hands resting on your hips. It's the most intimate position for him, allowing him to watch you, kiss you, and feel your chest pressed against his.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

In that intense moment, he is serious and passionate, completely absorbed in being with you. His focus is solely on you, and he can only express how much you mean to him through his words and actions. He’s not really a goofy type of guy anyway.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Art epitomizes the term ‘hairless’. Not a single hair can be found on his body, as he despises the feeling of it. While you strive to keep your body smooth for him, it's never quite as flawless as Art's impeccably bare skin.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Art always goes to great lengths to demonstrate how much you mean to him and that he can't bear the thought of losing you. Your words, moans, and sighs are all he needs to know that you feel the same way about him. The way he undresses you like you’re a precious gift to unwrap or the way he kisses you so slowly, to the careful attention he pays when pleasuring you, and the loving words he speaks, he craves your love and reassurance. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When it comes to pleasuring himself, at first, he's quite subtle and quiet about it, preferring to do so in private, especially when you're not around. His masturbation session still revolves entirely around you, as he clutches the panties he took from you, stroking himself while thinking about how he would take you, before gradually losing control and thrusting even faster.

When you first caught him masturbating, you had just started dating. He was sound asleep when you left his side in bed, but when you returned from your shower fifteen minutes later, he was lying on his back, his hand moving frantically under the blanket. When you asked him what he was up to, he replied "Nothing...". However, after much teasing, he admitted he was touching himself. You then asked him to show you, and he eventually did. He looked so attractive with his mouth half open and his hand wrapped tightly around his length. After he came, he apologized for being so naughty, while to you, it was one of the hottest things you had ever seen.It had become one of tradition to catch him in the act, eager to recreate that electrifying experience whenever you could. And he willingly helped achieve your fantasy.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Apart from his evident breeding kink and penchant for stealing underwear, Art finds a thrill in being watched. Even if he feigns annoyance at you catching him masturbating, deep down, he revels in it. He deliberately makes a bit of noise when he starts touching himself, knowing you'll soon join him.

Sometimes, he fantasizes about someone else watching the two of you have sex. He desires everyone to witness how exclusively you belong to him, how he's the sole person who can make you scream that way. He wants people to hate him with envy because they want fuck you but can't have you because you've chosen him. How they would have to watch every expression of pleasure you make only for him.

However, he knows this will probably only ever remain a fantasy, unsure of how to bring the topic with you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Art isn’t obsessed with the thought of doing it in every possible place. He prefers comfort. Whether it's the bed or the shower, each has its appeal for him. The bed offers convenience, allowing him to focus solely on the pleasure of being with you. On the other hand, the shower appeals to him for its cleanliness and the intimate closeness it provides.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It doesn’t take much to stir his desire : a lingering touch on his thigh, a lustful gaze into his eyes, and he is ready to go. You never have to ask, he always knows, driven by a desire for you that matches, if not surpasses, your own. He knows he can have you any time, yet, he enjoys imagining you as his reward after a hard-fought tennis match. The thought alone motivates him to work for it extra hard.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything he perceives as potentially dangerous for you turns him off, as the thought of causing you harm deeply disturbs him. He is against anything that avoids body fluids other than his cum or yours, he just enjoys it when things are clean.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He's a master at going down on you. Art cherishes you deeply and is driven to treat you properly, like you deserve to be. Your pleasure is his top priority, and he devotes himself to savoring every moment of your intoxicating taste. Your pussy is the most delicious meal to him. His skilled tongue ensures your satisfaction, always checking in to make sure you're enjoying every sensation. He savors every single inch of your cunt and every single drop of your juices and you always come in no time.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Art enjoys being slow and sensual, taking his time with you as if every time were your first. Often, you’re the one to start thrusting your hips faster, urging him to take you harder. He usually begins with a slow, yet forceful thrust, relishing the sight of your expression transforming with bliss as he pounds into you. Of course, there are moments when his desire is so intense that he can't wait, needing to slide in and take you right then and there, with rushed violent thrusts.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He isn't the biggest fan of quickies, preferring to take his time to show you how deeply he feels for you. However, when your teasing becomes too much or the tension between you builds to an unbearable peak, that's when he shoves you against a wall and slams himself inside you, releasing his frustrations in a completely different way.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s willing to try new things if you’re into it and as long as it’s nothing too harmful or degrading to you. If he thinks the thing you’re asking is a bit too extreme, he will need a little more convincing.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He is an athlete so he can last for quite a while, hours actually. But since he enjoys making love, with slow sensual thrusts, declarations of love and cuddling, he probably could only last two rounds because there isn't enough time in a day. His stamina always endures until you are completely spent by the end of it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

You were the one who introduced toys into your relationship, and while Art finds it exciting and loves watching you enjoy yourself, he can’t help but feel a bit jealous of them sometimes, especially when you use them without him. 

Although he doesn’t use the toys on himself, he does enjoy it when you press your vibrating wand against the head of his cock.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Initially, he wasn’t much into teasing. You were the one always teasing him and he would be a whiny baby in return. But as you spent more time together, he began to see the fun in it. He now loves making you blush with inappropriate words of praise in public.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Though Art is generally quiet in his everyday life, he's the loudest man you've ever had in your bed. Grunts, groans, whines, and whispered words to you, it’s impossible for him to stay silent. When you both find yourselves having sex in an unexpected place and need to be quiet, he does his best to muffle his sounds, releasing strained breaths instead.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He takes great pleasure in marking you with hickeys, proudly declaring to everyone that you belong to him. You often complain to him about the difficulty of covering them up, but he just grins from ear to ear. When the hickeys finally begin to fade, he eagerly sucks on your neck again. Yet, as the marks become insufficient to deter unwanted attention, he decides it's time to make a more permanent commitment. Despite putting a ring on your finger, it doesn't stop other men from hitting on you, leading him to beg you to start a family with him. For him, nothing would proclaim your belonging more than carrying his child.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Art is not excessively large or thick. Instead, he's proportionate to his height. The head of his cock is so pink, it’s fascinating, you love it. His perky nipples actually sport the same color.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

You feel that your sex life with him has become fairly normal. It’s not as passionate as it was in the beginning when you were both still discovering each other and experimenting. You know how to make each other come now. Whenever possible, you make love every night, almost as a routine. Most of the time, it's gentle, sleepy sex before bed. However, there are moments when Art's mood shifts, and he becomes insatiable. After being alone for so long during tours, he finds himself yearning for you more often than not, eager to demonstrate his love and devotion to you. When he’s not in tournaments, he tends to get a higher sex drive because his body’s lack of energy is not withholding him anymore. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Scared of the possibility of losing you or seeing you walk away, he finds himself unable to sleep, staying awake as long as possible just to ensure you're deeply asleep beside him, safely nestled in his arms before he falls asleep himself. Sometimes it’s really hard to keep his eyes open.

[artdcnaldson]

smutty patrick +art +reader request!!!! ->

smut where both patrick &y/n r dominant and are constantly competing against eachother with who makes art cum faster/moan louder LOL☺️☺️☺️ patrick is like a rougher dom and reader is softer and she keeps praising art while patrick IS SUCH A MEANIEEEEE but he also loves art too obv(and reader). UGH i love them

HEHEHEHE <3

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT!! Threesome ft. Dom!Patrick, Soft!Dom Reader, Sub!Art, handjob, blowjob, ruined orgasm

A/N: god tier request, truly. something possessed me when I wrote this

Art Donaldson had never looked prettier than he did in that moment. The thin sheen of sweat that made his skin glisten, the pretty flush that burned pink down to his chest.

His back was pressed to your chest, your arms wrapped around him soothingly. It was the perfect angle to watch all the ways Patrick was torturing your sweet boy.

His chest was heaving as he tried to catch his breath— each exhale shuddery and rough. You pet his hair, brushing soft curls out of his eyes.

“How are you, baby?” You asked softly, teasingly. “Is Patrick being too mean?”

He shook his head, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as Patrick’s hand moved faster and faster. A strangled moan slipped past his lips, eyes squeezing shut as Patrick brought him closer and closer to the edge.

“I’m just doing what he asked,” Patrick said with a grin. The sounds of his hand was slick as it moved up and down on the blond’s cock.. “He wanted me to touch him, and I’m touching him.”

You pressed a soothing kiss to his jaw and grinned down at Patrick. The brunet was a co-conspirator in the agonizing, delicious torture you put Art’s poor body through. You were just nicer about it.

“Close,” Art whimpered, his lips spit slick and bitten pink. “I— fuck— I’m close”

Patrick smirked like the cat who got the cream, but you just ran a soothing hand over the plane of his chest, teasing his nipples, making him whine pitifully.

“Yeah, baby? You’re close, huh?” Your teeth tugged slightly at his earlobe and he moaned, loud and pretty. “Be polite and ask Patrick if you can cum.”

Patrick’s hand didn’t let up— slick and relentless. He raised an eyebrow expectantly and Art nearly sobbed.

“Please—“ was all Art could manage.

“Please, what, Donaldson? You’re a big boy, you know how to ask the right way.”

He groaned, shifting so he could squirm away from Patrick’s relentless touch. It was futile, though. Art was strong, but with your legs pinning his thighs and Patrick’s hand slung across the blond’s torso, all he could do was take it.

“Lemme cum— please let me cum,” he was practically begging, eyes shining with crocodile tears. It was so fucking cute. You wished your camera was nearby so you could’ve snapped a picture of how desperate he’d gotten.

Patrick met your gaze and smiled, like he’d just gotten the best fucking idea in the world. “Okay, baby,” he said in an unusually gentle voice. “You can cum.”

You could feel Art’s heart hammering against your palm, the surprise evident in his eyes.

“Hurry before Pat changes his mind, yeah?” You cooed in his ear. He nodded, face scrunched slightly as Patrick brought him closer and closer to finishing.

And god, Art could get loud. He had his tells here, just like in tennis. As soon as he went silent, you knew he was right on the precipice, ready to tumble over.

The second Art’s orgasm hit, Patrick moved his hand off of him completely. It was different than it usually was— Art was always messy. He’d shoot ropes of thick cum up to his chest, or his face if he was particularly backed up.

But then, he just whimpered pathetically as cum oozed out of his tip, leaving a puddle at the base of his cock. And— holy fuck— he stayed hard.

Art practically sobbed, his head lolling back against your shoulder. Tears of frustration welled in his pretty blue eyes. “What the fuck, Patrick?” He groaned pathetically.

“What the fuck did you do?” You asked with wide eyes.

Patrick sat back and shrugged, wearing a shit-eating grin. “I saw someone do it in a porn. He got to cum, he just didn’t get the good part.”

“Switch spots,” you said quickly. Patrick let you settle between Art’s thighs, eye level with his aching cock. It was red at the tip, aching for a real release.

When you wrapped a hand around him, he whimpered and squirmed in an attempt to escape the stimulation.

“You good, baby?” You asked, pressing your lips to his thigh.

Before Art could respond, Patrick sighed. “Stop babying him— he’s fine.”

You met Art’s gaze, and he gave a tiny nod. His chest was heaving as he drew breath after shaky breath.

The mess of cum surrounding his base made each slick pass of your hand sound pornographic. Almost as debauched as the whimpers and moans that were escaping Art’s lips.

“Mmm… fuck, fuck— ah!” Like a goddamn pornstar.

“Shhh… let me clean up the mess Patrick made, yeah?”

You pressed a soft kiss to his tip, and his thighs twitched with the need to buck into the warmth of your lips. Your mouth trailed down, peppering the hard length of him with wet, slow kisses. You could taste his release, salty on your tongue.

“Jesus, baby— please—“ Art, desperate and wanting, was your favorite thing in the world. Besides maybe Patrick, desperate and wanting in a completely opposite way.

“Quit whining, Art, or she’s gonna stop.” Patrick murmured in the blond’s ear. You could already see a collection of red spots on Art’s throat that would turn into bruises.

You definitely weren’t going to stop. You loved every single depraved noise you could wring out of him. You took mercy on him, easing his sensitive cock into the wet warmth of your mouth.

You’re too soft on him. He likes when you make him work for it. You could hear Patrick’s complaints already.

It didn’t matter. You liked taking care of your boy.

He pulsed against your tongue as you took him deeper, his thighs tensing where your hands rested against him. He bucked slightly, brushing the back of your throat. When you gagged around him, he made the same whimpery noise that he made on the tennis courts.

“Tell her thank you,” Patrick said in Art’s ear.

You moaned softly around Art’s length as you felt Patrick’s fingers grip onto your hair, guiding your mouth up and down, faster and faster.

“Art, I’ll make her stop. Say thank you.” Patrick’s voice was firm, no trace of any sympathy. The same way he’d bark corrections that Art needed to make when they practiced together.

“Thank you,“ Art gasped out, like it took all the effort in the world. Patrick used his free hand to rake his nails over Art’s abs, and the blond cried out and bucked into your throat. “Fuck—“

You knew he was close to finishing— still so pent up from the orgasm that Patrick had ruined for him. So sensitive that it wouldn’t take much more effort to have him spilling onto your tongue.

You pulled off slowly, jerking him off with slow, firm strokes. “You wanna cum, baby?” You asked, lips just brushing the sensitive head of his cock.

“Yes! God, need t’ cum so bad,” he cried, desperate and aching for release.

“Jesus, you’re fuckin’ greedy, Art,” Patrick goaded. The hand that was in your hair had moved to your cheek, where he stroked along your skin sweetly. “You think you deserve it?”

“Yes, you asshole,” Art groaned. Patrick laughed, a smile spreading across his lips. You raised a brow, looking at the brunet expectantly for permission. He nodded and you smiled.

“Go on, baby, I’ve got you,” you said, hand moving faster. “I won’t be mean, I’ll let you get what you need.”

He cried out as he finished, painting your tongue with thick spurts of cum. You worked him through it, taking every drop he could offer you, until the feeling of your touch became too much.

“Don’t swallow, c’mere,” Patrick said. You joined him at the top of the bed, kissing him deeply, passing Art’s cum between your mouths with slow laves of your tongues against each other.

Art whined, reaching for your faces, wanting you to include him. Patrick leaned down, kissing him deeply, so he could taste the efforts of both of your attentions. You leaned in, tongue brushing Patrick’s, and Art’s, and you felt warmth flutter in your chest.

“You’re too nice to him,” Patrick said after he pulled away. “I would’ve made him beg for it.”

thank you for readinggggg <3 this was so fun to write 😁🩵

[theitgirlnetwork]

Earn It

Ch. 2 : Esmerelda Variation

Heaven's outfit at the match:

Note: Thank you for the insane amount of love you guys are showing this. This is still a ground work laying chapter so still a little short but with a bit of drama. I should warn that just like the characters from the movie, Heaven is going to be ambiguous. Sometimes she'll be great, sometimes she'll be toxic (you have to remember she's best friends with Tashi for a reason). Anyways, you will get to know her as the story goes on. Thank you for all of the likes, follows, reblogs and notes, I really love hearing from you all and will be responding to them today. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I wrote it in the middle of the night lol. (P.s. I have a bad track record with tag lists but I'm going to try, let me know if it works.)

Taglist: @spookystitchery @anehkael @fkaams

“You remember when you said you’d let me win this one?”

“That was a lifetime ago.”

Art whips his head to look at Patrick who’s staring out onto the currently empty court, leaning back on the bench with his elbows. “But what about my grandmother?”

“You better hope she has a stroke.” the brown haired man shrugs, patting his friend’s shoulder. “I mean Tashi Duncan is gonna be watching. Tennis princess. And her hot friend. Can’t fuck up, sorry man.”

Art just shakes his head and takes a swig of water. Two hours had passed since this morning’s run-in and he still hadn’t been able to force himself to tell Patrick about the fact that Heaven’s number was on the line too. It’d only be fair, he knows that. But…Art really didn’t want Patrick to have it.

He should’ve just asked her for it directly instead of hiding behind this performance in interest in getting it from her. But he’d been thrown off. He’d truthfully thought he wouldn’t be able to see her again after she announced she had a boyfriend to the group. When he saw her on the beach that morning he found himself jogging down to catch her, and struggling to keep pure thoughts as she talked to him in her skimpy workout gear, telling him she’s single now. 

She was just so pretty. The sweat and the morning sun made her skin glisten. Her smile on her face made her cheeks dimple cutely and drew his attention to her soft lips. And she had this look in her eye. She and Tashi are so different yet so alike. She was asking him if competing was how he wanted to get her number. He was asked to make the choice. But it was the challenge he found swimming in her gaze. Like, there was only one right answer, that she expected him to be able to make the decision himself. Like if he shied away now, the little fire he saw in her eyes would die. 

Heaven was just as into this as Tashi was. 

The thought of her giving that look to Patrick too, it was something he couldn’t handle.

“Shame about that boyfriend though…wonder if it’s serious…Art. Art?” 

Art jolts out of his inner thoughts and focuses on his friend opening his breakfast sandwich next to him. “D’you think Heaven’s relationship is serious? I feel like she was flirting a little. Poor bastard. Sending his girl on the road without him when she looks like that? Fuckin’ idiot. And she’s a dancer, do you know what that means?” Patrick asks, holding the sandwich out for Art to take a bite, smiling when he does and swiping his thumb across his mouth to rid him of some crumbs.

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“She’s fuckin’ flexible, Arthur.” He growls, a smirk on his face. “She’s bendy and shit.”

Art’s lip curls in disgust as he shoves his friend, huffing out an irritated laugh when he’s shoved back. “Don’t fuckin’ talk about her like that. Either of them, they’re people, jesus, Patrick.”

“Yes, exactly. Beautiful people. That I would like to fuck.”

“You’re a great guy, man, really.” he sighs sarcastically, tossing his arm around Patrick’s shoulder.

“Thanks man, I really appreciate that.”

Heaven is quiet as she lets Tashi guide her to their seats in the center for the Donaldson v. Zweig match. Her friend had been excited all morning, ready to finally see some “real fuckin’ tennis’. Heaven was excited too. She’s always enjoyed watching people she knows do what they’re passionate about. 

That’s why she’s always loved watching Tashi play tennis. Tashi plays tennis like she’s making love and going to war all at the same time. She leaves everything on the court, like each match is the last thing she’ll ever do. She goes somewhere, and Heaven likes going with her. Passion is what moves her. She’s passionate about dance. A life without it is meaningless.

“You good?” Tashi asks, nudging her knee with her own, grabbing Heaven’s attention.

“Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

The taller girl shrugs, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder with pursed lips. “Just making sure you’re not letting that dickhead Trevor get to you. He’s a waste of time and space in your brain. Can’t play basketball for shit and doesn’t know when to stop.” Tashi nudges Heaven again when she rolls her eyes, facing the court. “I mean, you obviously don’t have to listen to me, babe, I just know you’re too good for that shit. Don’t want you to waste your energy.”

That shit. That’s the shit she doesn’t like about Tashi. When she can’t tell if she genuinely is being her best friend, or is jealous that she’s been sharing Heaven’s attention. The condescending demand that Heaven show no weakness regarding someone other than her. Heaven knows Tashi wants what’s best for her. But she doesn’t own her emotions. 

“Said I’m fine, T.” Heaven huffs, ignoring Tashi’s stare out of the corner of her eye and opting to watch the announcer climb the ladder and take position. “By the way, I saw Art this morning. I told him that we could double the stakes. Winner gets your number and mine.” When Tashi’s reaction doesn’t come, Heaven looks at her to see that she’s now facing forward, smiling almost evilly at the court.

“God, this is gonna be so good. Do you know how horny those guys are? They think the winner is gonna end up fucking us together, this is gonna be a real match.”

Heaven goes to respond but pauses as the men begin making their way onto the court, their names echoing in the microphone as they begin placing their bags down. Tashi finishes signing an autograph for a fan sitting behind them and settles back into her seat. 

Both men immediately seek them out in the crowd, two sets of eyes finding the girls sitting in the center. Patrick points his racket in their direction with a cocky smile before turning to take to the court. Art gages their reactions to his friend, watching both women offer smiles to him and offering them his own wave. A bright grin lights his face when they return it. 

“Boys are so easy.” Tashi laughs through her teeth. 

“Very.” Heaven agrees, crossing her legs as she watches the match begin. Both men are working their asses off out of the gate. The ball sails back and forth across the net. Their grunts ring out into the air. Their eyes tense, sweat dripping, breathing heavy. At first, they were being showmen. Both of them stopping, looking to the stands for the girls' approval only working harder when the most they are offered back is a small nod. 

But they got focused. They moved faster. Worked harder. They forgot them and just played some fucking tennis. And it was sexy as hell. For the first time ever, Heaven was experiencing the feeling she gets watching Tashi play. And she was experiencing it watching someone else.

Tashi was enjoying the game immensely. She loves this shit. This is the game she lives for, and she and her best friend had made it more interesting. She grins as she watches the ball go to Patrick, then Art, then back again. Her head swiveled with everyone else’s and she felt happy. Impressed. 

Until she saw Heaven out of the corner of her eye. 

Heaven sitting on the edge of her seat, looking at Patrick then Art then Patrick then Art. She hadn’t looked at Tashi since they started. It’s normal. They’ve watched matches together before, but this look on her face. That was supposed to be Tashi’s look. 

Biting her lip in focus, breathing slightly elevated in the excitement, one hand toying with her name chain on her otherwise bare collar bone as the other clutched the arm of the chair, arched forward, leaning towards them. 

Tashi shakes her head briefly and focuses back on the match, placing one hand on Heaven’s knee. 

Just in case she slipped from her seat. 

When Patrick took his bow, looking through his dark lashes to see Heaven and Tashi’s reactions. Both of them look pleased. Offering him applause as he stands before going to grab his things. 

Art watches in defeat. The muscle in his jaw jumps as he clenches it in irritation. He walks off his adrenaline, pacing between clearing his things from the bench. He feels a heavy hand clap on his back. “Good game, man. I’ll meet you out front, yeah? I’ve got a number to collect.”

“Yeah. Good game.” he says quietly. 

Two. Two numbers. Both. He’s getting both. He deserves neither, and he’s getting Tashi Duncan and Heaven Whitlock. 

Art sits on the competitor’s chair, pulling his shirt off and tossing it over his head to shield himself from the sun as he puts his head back. He doesn’t know how long he’s sitting there. But he can’t bring himself to get up. To meet Patrick. To watch Tashi know he’s better than him as she gives him her number. To watch Heaven decide that he hadn’t earned the right to want her.

He doesn’t remove the shirt until he hears shoes clacking on the court. He’s expecting to see an employee of the tournament but is shocked to see Heaven standing in front of him with an unenthused look. 

“Oh, good, I thought you were crying.”

“Um, nope.” Art huffs, a wry smile on his face. “That would be a little pathetic, even for me.”

Heaven’s head tilts, her dark, silky hair falling to the side as she does. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other and Art hops out of the chair, offering it to her. “How is almost winning pathetic?”

“I didn’t almost win-”

“He didn’t sweep you. You could’ve won. He’s just better today. When Tashi wins, the other person usually doesn’t even get more than one point.” Heaven pushes up into the seat, crossing one leg over the other. Art can’t help but reminisce. Her legs are now covered by her light washed jeans, but her bare shoulders remind him of the expanse of glowing skin he’d seen earlier this morning. “The score was close.” 

Art smiles slightly at that. He’s still annoyed he was unable to beat his friend, but her words, while based solely in logic, still managed to be comforting. “So, uh, I bet Patrick was pretty fuckin’ happy to get you and Tashi’s numbers.”

“Oh, he was pretty damn excited.” Heaven laughs. “It was cute.”

Ouch. “Yeah, I’m sure I won’t hear the end of it.”

Heaven nods, lips rolling inward as she uses her arms to push herself forward, kicking him lightly with her leg, smiling flirtily when he catches her foot, his large hand encasing her ankle. He rights her gold anklet, turning it so that the cross on it is facing upward before bringing her foot back to the ground. “What about you?”

“What about me? I lost. Fair and square.”

“You did.” she grins, resting her chin in her hand. “But the wager changed this morning didn’t it? I agreed that the winner would get my and Tashi’s numbers, but you had an added requirement, right?”

Art’s brows furrowed in confusion briefly before the realization hits him. “I had to earn it.”

“If you’d won, but didn’t earn the win, I wouldn’t give it to you. I have my opinion. What’s yours? Do you feel like you earned my number today?” 

“You want to give it to me anyway?” 

Heaven shakes her head and hops down from the seat, moving closer to Art and fully expecting him to back up, pleasantly surprised when he just tilts his head down to accommodate her height. “I want you to tell me if today was your best.”

Art breathes out heavily. There’s a part of him that wants to just say ‘fuck it, yes’. He wants to say that's the best he can do, and he did earn her number already. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t look her in the face and say he couldn’t do better. He couldn’t have her look at him like he didn’t have potential. “No.”

That’s apparently the right answer, because Heaven offers him a quiet, “Good.” before brushing past him, her arm narrowly missing his, causing the hairs on his skin to stand. 

As he watches the girl prance away from him gracefully, Art bites back his own smirk, looking to the ground and nodding to himself. 

He has some work to do.

“Just tell me. I just wanna know.” Art chews his gum, trying to look nonchalant as possible as he and Patrick make their way onto the courts.

He’d been haunted by the way his friend is seemingly getting joy from being very secretive about what he’s been doing with Tashi and Heaven. He knows he’s been talking to them. He can tell. It’s in the smug looks. The fucking half stories without names. He’s fucking keeping them to himself. Won’t even share their names with him. And in response to Art’s irritation, Patrick smirks. The same stupid fucking crooked smirk that always hides his snide remarks and secrets. Usually, Art has a twin one to match, now, the joke is on him.

“I can’t believe you, of all people, are telling me to kiss and tell. You used to be a gentleman, Art.”  Patrick chuckles, grabbing a ball and preparing to serve.

“Just tell me if you slept with either of them.” Art pushes, moving to the opposite side of the net and getting into position. “C’mon, it doesn’t matter. If you’ve slept with Tashi, do a normal serve. Serve like me.” 

Patrick hesitates a bit, shaking his head as he looks at his friend’s determined face. He knows Art is not gonna stop asking. But he’s gonna be so butthurt about the answer. He rolls his choices around in his head, briefly considering if it would piss off the girls for him to talk about it and deciding they wouldn’t care about Art knowing. And, he couldn’t help himself from bragging. 

Setting up the serve and sending the ball sailing over the net, Patrick gives Art the confirmation he was seeking. Art offers him a smile in an attempt to appear nonchalant, and goes to hit the ball, only to see a second one flying past him on his other side.

“Wh-”

Patrick grins again, watching the two balls bounce and roll on the opposite sides of Art. He shrugs, strolling over to the net. “I figured you’d ask about Heaven too.” Holding his hand out in front of Art’s mouth he catches the gum he spits into it. “They…uh fancy themselves a package deal.”

“Really?” Art breathes through the smile he has painted on his face. 

“Yeah.” Patrick squirts water into his mouth. “S’fuckin’ awesome.”

Art just chuckles politely until Patrick turns around to get another ball, using his friend’s distraction to let his smile drop into an aggravated frown.

The next time the whole group is all together is move in week. Heaven and Tashi had somehow convinced the men that even though Patrick was packing up for his tour and Art was also moving in, they needed to help them move into their dorms. They were starting with Stanford today and planned to make their way to UCLA tomorrow to get Heaven’s stuff together. While Art now naturally had Tashi's number because they were going to school together, he and Heaven had stuck to their deal. He hadn't decided what he was going to do to get it. Maybe win a match while she was here visiting in a couple weeks. Or maybe he had to beat Patrick specifically. He didn't know, but he as much as he wants her respect, he was getting sick of waiting.

Both men had removed their shirts in the California heat, carrying Tashi’s tennis equipment, replacement mattress, mini fridge and all ten tons of luggage she brought. 

The women were being helpful too. Heaven was apparently resting her legs in anticipation of her audition tomorrow, and rode comfortably on Patrick’s back up the steps during the first trip from the van. After that the girls had made Tashi’s bed before both climbing onto it and sharing a lollipop as they watched the boys work. 

“No, I want my printer over there.” Tashi calls, popping the candy out her mouth and passing it to Heaven, who is absently scrolling on her phone when she drags it into hers.

“Next time, I want green apple.”

Patrick drops the printer on the desk and turns to them. “You know, people hire movers for stuff like this. Where’s your dad?”

Tashi just ignores him, leaning her head over to look at whatever Heaven is staring at on her phone.

“Men used to build houses, you know.” Heaven says, tilting the device so Tashi can see better. The latter nodding at whatever she’s being shown.

“Mm, and go to war.” Tashi sighs boredly, “You guys can’t carry mini furniture?”

Patrick huffs irritably and looks to Art to back him up. “We’re almost done.” The blond shrugs, wiping the sweat from his brow. 

“You just like kissing their asses.”

“And you don’t?” Tashi calls from the bed. 

Patrick huffs and lifts the printer again, moving it to where Tashi indicated it should go. Meanwhile, Art moves over to the bed finally done emptying the trolley they borrowed from the university. “What’re you two looking at?”

“I’m helping Heaven decide what piece she should do for her audition in a couple days.” Tashi rolls off of the bed and stretches her muscles, “she’s being stubborn.”

Art’s brows furrow as he looks down at Heaven, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, not reacting to Tashi’s criticism at all. She’d known about that audition since before they met them. He’s shocked to hear she still hasn’t decided on a piece. 

“It’s not being stubborn, Tashi-” the girl pauses her movements at the use of her real name, brow raising. “It’s my audition.”

“Okay. Yeah, I just don’t wanna hear you whine for the next two weeks about how you should’ve done Odile from Swan Lake but pussied out because it’s hard and you know you’d complain.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“Exactly, babe, exactly. That’s why I don’t get why you don’t just go set the tone.” Tashi chirps. Her voice does that thing. That thing she does when she's pretending she's being casual about something. Going up an octave to show just how much she doesn't care.

Heaven sits up then, a stern look on her face that can rival the one Tashi gives, both hands planted in the bed as she stares the other girl down. “You don’t think I’ll get the lead with whatever I pick.” 

It’s not a question. It’s a statement. A dare. The look she gives dares Tashi to say the wrong thing. 

Patrick and Art don’t know what to do. They’d never seen the girls disagree before. They’re always tag-teaming everyone. Tagging in and out of conversations, finishing each other’s quick remarks, cutting people down with sharp looks together. They’d never seen them face off before.

“I know you’d better get the lead.” Tashi shrugs, flipping her hair over and tying it up with a hair tie.

“I’m gonna. Have I ever not?” Heaven sends back. 

Tashi gives her a noncommittal look before snatching up Patrick’s shirt, tossing it into his hands. “Come hit the ball with me.” 

She offers Art one glance. It’s an invitation, very clearly for everyone except Heaven, who was already turned away on the bed, scrolling on her phone again. 

Patrick and Art have their own wide-eyed, silent conversation, finally settling through gestures. ‘You go with that one, I’ll stay with this one, hopefully no one pitches a fit.’

The dorm room door slips shut and the room is quiet aside from the clock ticking on Tashi’s dresser. A few moments pass before Heaven lets out a loud sigh and rolls over, gasping when she sees Art sitting at the desk on his own phone. “What the fuck?”

His eyes widen as he looks at her. “What?”

“I thought you left with Tashi and Patrick.”

He softens as that, offering her a smile. “And leave you by yourself? Nah. Anyway, we’re gonna be playing tennis everyday for the rest of this semester. Let’s go tour my college campus.”

Heaven looks up at the blond man outstretching his hand to her. Part of it is because she’s pissed at Tashi and didn’t wanna be laying here when she got back, but another part of her thought it might be fun to use this as an opportunity to get to know Art more. 

Since she, Patrick and Tashi started hooking up, she’d decided she was satisfied with keeping the set up she had. She had some fun, they dated, and ultimately, there weren’t many requirements. Her focus was just dance now, she wasn’t looking to waste her time on another boyfriend who wouldn’t work out, and going down the exclusive route with Tashi would get…complicated.

But sometimes she thought about Art. She thought about his cute smile and blond hair. She thought about his voice and muscles. And since the match, she thinks about how he played tennis. She could’ve came from watching him play tennis.

A secret she’ll take to the grave, mind you.

But one that led her to walking around campus with him, despite the fact that she and Tashi had agreed she needed to rest her legs before her audition.

Art told her all about the stuff the guide book talked about, showing her the historic buildings, the dorm he now calls home and the dining hall. And somehow, they ended up in the small theater that’s located on the campus.

He smiles, glancing at her, rocking on his feet as they stand outside the building. 

Heaven rolls her eyes playfully, nudging his shoulder. “Huh. I wonder how we ended up here.

“Couldn’t tell you. Definitely didn’t walk you to this…very small theater on purpose.” Art shrugs. “Probably should go in though.” He says breezily, pushing the door open for Heaven to walk through.

As she steps over the threshold, Heaven’s bad mood nearly dissolves. Her tense shoulders relax and her eyes slip closed. Art watches her all but melt into the environment, her pretty features smooth out as she breathes in deeply. “A theater is a theater. I missed this, traveling with Tashi.”

“I’d bet. I’m sure you don’t get much time to dance when you do that.” He says softly, watching her run her hands along the stage.

“Just drills so I don’t get rusty.” She hums. “I’m gonna end up doing Odile. She’s right, it’s a show stopper, guaranteed lead.”

Art sits in the front, center seat, watching as Heaven pushes her way up onto the stage, sitting on the edge. “I’m sure you’d get it no matter what you did. You’re a beautiful dancer.”

Heaven sweeps her hair over her shoulder. “You’ve never seen me dance, Arthur.”

He looks at her with an earnest, almost pleading expression that makes her stomach flip. “Could I? Please?”

“Okay.”

Art hasn’t experienced that much of life yet. He’s young, he’s had the same best friend forever. He went to a boarding school for tennis. He hasn’t traveled the world yet or anything.

But he’s pretty sure he would like to watch Heaven Whitlock dance. 

She was in sweats. Unprepared, with no shoes. Though she denied it, she was clearly nervous that her friend would bust in, see her, and it would start round two of their squabble. But she stretches for a moment before crouching to set up her phone. “Do you know what you wanna see or…”

Art blushes at that, he doesn’t exactly know any ballets. He just wanted to see Heaven in her element. “How about you show me the dance you wanna do.”

There it is. The truth. They both know she’s gonna do the dance Tashi is recommending. But right now she’s not here. And Art wants to see what Heaven would enjoy doing.

“It’s the Esmeralda Variation.” She says, untying her shoelaces before pulling her shoes off altogether. “I need something to kick.”

Art immediately pulls his hat off, tossing it up to her and chuckling as she giggles catching it. One tap on her phone and the muffled music is echoing in the empty theater. 

And she’s moving.

And Art can’t breathe. 

He’s never seen anything like it, like her. The grace. The control she has over her body. He didn’t know people could look like that. He didn’t know balance could be so beautiful. It was like, he didn’t even want to blink. He didn’t want to miss a minute of it.

His eyes tracked her body’s movements with precision, but what they really focused on was her face. He’d never seen perfection like that. Peace like that. This was what Tashi was talking about. This is what she feels with tennis, Heaven has dance. She was in a relationship. With the song. With her body. The floor. The audience. Him. 

Watching Heaven dance felt like witnessing love.

She’s amazing.

The dance was fun, playful, and looked difficult as hell. And she did it with ease.

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she stopped, sliding down into a final split with a bright smile on her face. “That’s…you’re beautiful. That’s amazing, what you just did.”

Heaven gives him a pleased look that has him feeling warm. She moves to sit on the edge of the stage, letting her legs dangle as she looks at him. Her hands rest on her knees. “Thanks, Art, that means a lot.”

He shifts in his own seat, leaning forward. He pushes up out of the red theater chair and makes his way over to stand in front of her. “I mean it. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“You’re really good at that, you know.” Heaven says, her voice dropping to a whisper as she looks at him. This is the first time they’ve been face to face before. He’s tall, and imposing despite his accommodating demeanor. She bites her lip and watches his eyes immediately drop before he forces them back to her eyes. “Making people feel good about themselves.”

Art’s startled by the compliment, and immediately starts to laugh it off. Betrayed by the redness of his ears. “You have a gift.” He shrugs. “You should be told you have a gift, all the time.”

He doesn’t know what comes over him. The wave of boldness. It might’ve been that they were alone. Or he was still worked up from what he just witnessed. Or the way Heaven was looking at him, with intensity. Like she saw something. He rests one hand on her leg, feeling smooth skin. And pushes into her space, bringing their faces impossibly closer. Heaven’s big eyes flutter shut as he gets closer, and he smiles.

She wants him to kiss her.

Grabbing his hat from behind her and placing it on his head.

Her eyes open after a beat and she gasps out a laugh, their faces still just a breath apart. “Ha. You’re funny-”

He presses his lips to hers in a brief but deep kiss, pulling away just as she pressed her lips back. “I’m sorry.”

Heaven balls her fist in the front of his shirt, dragging him back to her and making their lips meet again. Their mouths move together in a new dance. Suddenly the room is filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing and hums of contentment. Heaven’s hands find their way into Art’s hair as he anchors her waist, pulling her to the very edge of the stage so he can stand between her thighs.

When they pull away their lips cause a loud smack in the dimly lit room. Art’s thumb sweeps over the soft skin of Heaven’s cheek as they both desperately try to catch their breath. Her own hand moves about his curls, smoothing them before sliding to his jaw. Art turns his head to press a kiss to her palm before he speaks.

“Heaven-”

His eyes widen as he sees the girl’s eyes watering, her rose petal lips trembling as she looks at him. Chest rising and falling with her rapid breaths. She runs her hands through her hair with a stressed look that Art thinks he would do anything to remove.

“Please don’t tell Tashi.”

[luvyeni]

❛CHRISTMAS EVE❜ ( p. jay )

p. husband!jay x fem!reader w. 0.8k+

— 𖦹 warnings. unprotected sex, breeding kink, mentions of baby

— 𖦹 ( your husband makes it home just in time to spend christmas eve with you ) !

8 days of christmas masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

‘9:30 p.m.' is what the clock read, and jays leg bounced up and down nervously — he was gonna miss Christmas eve, he promised you he’d be there.

He was on his way out , when his assistant stopped him reminding him that he had a late video call with investors for his company — pissed that he forgot about the meeting , even more pissed that it was Christmas eve and he knew you wanted to spend it with him.

You said it was fine, but he didn’t care, he knew you were saying that just to make him feel better — he was determined to make it to you. He took one look standing up. “sir?” His assistant sat next to him. “I can’t I have to get home.” He said. “Sir this is important, it’s a new client.”

“It’s Christmas eve, and they’re an hour late.” He said. “if they wanted it , they would’ve been punctual.” He grabbed his  coat. “What do we do?” His assistant said. “Go home to your family, Merry Christmas .” he said making his way out of his office.

He wasted no time, hopping into his car, speeding all the way home to you, it was now 10 o’clock — you probably were still getting ready for bed, he was gonna make it. Pushing the buttons to your condo door, walking it dropping his things, not even bother to stop in the kitchen — heading straight to the bedroom.

“Jay?” sat on the bed, finishing up some wrapping, your husband walking in the door. “I made it baby.” He said, you smiled. “What about your meeting.” He shook his head. “I don’t care about that.” He said undoing his tie, rolling his sleeves up. “My wife wanted me home for Christmas eve, so im here.”

You smiled , putting the newly wrapped gift on the night stand. “Come here.” You stretched your arms out. “You are perfect.” You kissed him, hugging him. “I love you so much.” He whispered, his forehead pressed against yours. “I don’t care if it’s Christmas eve or saint patrick’s day, if you want to spend it with me, then im here.”

“I love you too jay.” He kissed you again, with much more hunger. Your camisole sleeve falling down, barely covering your boobs at this point. “So beautiful baby.” He squeezed your boob. “Jay.” He smiled. “shush baby girl.” He stood up. “Gonna give you everything you want.”

He unbuttoned his dress shirt , you watched him slowly undoing his slacks , letting them fall to the ground, stepping out of them. “Gonna fuck a baby inside you tonight.” He climbed in between your legs, using his thumb, pressing down on your clothed clit. “Fu-fuck jay please.”

He pulled your panties to the side , the cool air hitting your cunt making you moan. “Look at how wet your are.” He was salivating. “You really want me to fuck a baby into you.” You nodded. “Y-yes.” You mewled. He grabbed the base of his cock, slapping his mushroom tip against your clit. “Fuck jay , please put it in.”

He slowly pushed into your hole , groaning as he bottomed out. “such a perfect pussy.” He moaned , pulling out just to push himself back in, stretching you out. “can’t wait to fill it with my cum.”

You moaned out, gripping his arm as he rocked into you. “Sh-shit jay you feel so good.” He hummed. “Fuck princess, your taking my cock so well.” He sped up. “good fucking girl.” His cock head pressing against your womb. “gonna breed you nice and well.”

You clenched around him , making him moan out. “fuck you like that?” he grunted. “Is that what you want for Christmas? Want me to fuck a baby into you?” You screamed out as he began to plow into your cunt. “Fu-fucking answer me.” You nodded , your eyes shut. “Fuck yes, please give me a baby.”

He grabbed your legs , bringing them to your chest, plowing into you harder and faster. “Jay!” he moaned , cursing and whispering filthy shit into your ear. “fuck my pretty wife, cum for me.” He said. “Cum all over my cock, make a mess.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head ,you let out a pornographic moan as you cum, your cunt fluttering around him as you came down from your high. “Good girl.” He said. “Fuck im cumming.” He grunted , thrusting once, twice — shooting his load into your waiting womb. “Fake take my load baby.”

He stayed inside you , positioning you into a much comfortable position — pulling you deep into his arms , kissing your forehead. “Thank you.” You said. “For making it home I really wanted you here.” You confessed. “I told you baby I’ll always be here for you, no  matter how many meetings I have to cancel.” He looked at the time, it read ‘12:00’

“It’s Christmas.” He kissed your forehead. “Merry Christmas my beautiful wife.”

“Merry Christmas my handsome husband.”

©️LUVYENI

[zweiginator]

do u tbink reader and bsf!patrick would ever start hooking up but in like a fwb way? bc imagine….and wildly enough it’s HER who’s like ‘cant get attached’ blah blah blah. like it’s her being the one to make it clear that this doesn’t change anything, she’s completely platonic outside of it (well ok not really), she won’t think of them as dating even tho they practically are.

and it’s so obvious she thinks he’s not taking it seriously. assumes he’s going on dates. tries to not think ab it.

n eventually he just like loses it. points out how "it’s not fucking fair. you do all this shit to me, with me, and now you’re acting like i’m the crazy one for thinking we’re more than just fuck buddies? that’s all you wanna be? fuck off" and angry sex…..

NOT SURE JUST SOME THOUGHTS…

yes. youve seen patrick's ex girlfriends, how obsessed they still are with him. there is something so egregiously intoxicating about him--it scares you. truly knocks the wind out of you.

you didn't get it before you became friends with benefits. before you leapt over that line in the sand that had been toed over for year and years.

but that one night in september when patrick had just broken up with a girl, and you were feeling upset after yet another horrible date--you got it.

patrick comforted you that night. it felt selfish; you were upset about a guy you met maybe twice. he had just dumped a girl he thought he truly loved.

you brought up the idea.

"let's just be friends with benefits." you plead. the truth was that you were so curious about him. as he grew more and more and became a man instead of an immature little boy--you wanted to feel him.

"what are you talking about?" he didn't want to ruin your friendship. but thee truth was that he had broken up with his girlfriend because of a petty little disagreement. it was trivial, really. he told himself it was just pure incompatibility. but in reality, he resented her for not being more like you. nobody could be you--except for you.

patrick knew it would be complicated. for some reason, you figured it wouldn't be. patrick was always hooking up with and talking to new girls. it seemed like he had the no strings attached thing down pat.

patrick made love to you that night. that was the only way to describe it. slow, meaningful, deep thrusts, your legs wrapped around his waist. desparate for him to be closer.

his words were filthy. he spread your cunt open and cooed about how pretty it was. how it opened up just for him. how wet he had made you. so pretty. so perfect.

it made you cum. it made your nails dig and dig and dig into his back.

you understood how his exes turned obsessive. maybe not even turned.

so you vowed to never get too attached. to never ruin your friendship.

you never slept over at his place, and you never allowed him to stay the night at yours. no pillow talk or sweet nothings. no dates.

of course, these stipulations had loose definitions. and as best friends, it was inevitable to show appreciation to each other, to go out to an occasional nice dinner or impromptu lunch.

patrick was becoming more and more livid with you. you didn't know what had changed. he was more bossy in bed; he went from slow sessions of eating your pussy to slapping his cock on your tongue and commanding you: fucking suck on it.

of course, you liked it. you loved anything he did to you. but maybe you missed how sweet he used to be. you wouldn't admit to yourself why that was.

valentine's day was soon. and maybe patrick had assumed that you would be his date. he made reservations for you.

"patrick, what are you talking about? no, i'm not gonna be your valentine." you shake your head, taking his tennis rackets from him to shove in the backseat.

"what the fuck do you mean 'what am i talking about?'" patrick lowers his voice. "we've been fucking for like 6 months why are you acting like this?"

"exactly," you say. "we've been fucking. we haven't been dating. i told you this would be purely platonic when we started."

patrick scoffs, slamming the door. he's yelling at you now. "so you're just gonna act like i'm fucking crazy for thinking this is more than platonic when it is definitely more than platonic?" he forces the car into reverse, driving away angrily.

"you're mad because i'm keeping my word--no, our word."

"whatever." patrick spat. "you're full of fucking shit. acting like this hasn't been dating this whole fucking time. making me seem like a fucking idiot for thinking you liked me."

"i do like you-"

patrick seethes; the vein in his neck pulses as he parks the car. he's dropping you off at your apartment.

"get the fuck out. go home. this is over--all of it is."

you gather your things and get out of patrick's car. you have barely shut the door when he skids away. your breath is visible in the cold february air, but your body is hot, and stiff with anger and confusion.

you think he will break and call you first. but one week passes, and then valentine's day. and soon it's march and you haven't so much as seen patrick for almost a month.

it's stupid. you go to patrick's apartment. you look like a lost puppy dog.

he doesn't answer the door. you know he's home. his car is in the driveway, you hear music in his living room. maybe he's with another girl. maybe he really did move on.

you don't leave. it's freezing, and your jacket is light--it's not made for the dry cold that hurts at the end of winter.

patrick opens the door.

"what the fuck are you doing here?"

your lip wobbles.

"it's freezing out here what's your problem?"

patrick bullies you. he pulls you inside and wraps you in a blanket but sits on the opposite side of the couch. doesn't say a word.

you speak up; he cuts you off.

"i have nothing to say to you."

now you're begging. you're crying and the tears are stinging and you're on patrick's lap trying to get him to notice you.

"please pat, p-please. i miss you."

patrick grabs your jaw. he's stern. "this isn't how platonic friends act. this isn't how you fucking cry when you're just friends."

he's right.

you pull at his shirt. "please, i need you, i'll do anything. want you to be mine. i was so--stupid."

patrick is hard beneath you. he likes this.

"you're so fucking pathetic." he spits.

you get down on your knees in front of him.

"i'm so stupid."

"show me how much you want me." he pushes his sweatpants off; he's wearing no underwear. and his cock looks bigger. just as angry as he is.

you grab him into your hands and spit on his cock, moaning as you kiss it all over. lick him from his balls to the weeping head of his cock. suckling on him and hallowing your cheeks. saying im sorry im sorry im sorry.

he slaps his cock on your face. tells you you should be.

you feel how he pulses in your mouth; he groans as he pushes your face into his balls. you suck them into your mouth. your eyes water and your pussy drools for him.

patrick pulls you up. puts you on top of him. pushes your cunt onto his throbbing cock until you're gasping. god he's big and he's fucking relentless. you're not even moving and he's fucking up into you so hard you feel like you have whiplash.

but god, it feels so good. patrick pulls your hair, palms your ass, slaps your face. he rubs your clit and laughs at you. laughs at how much you're moaning. how easy you are.

"are you fucking sorry?" he asks. his balls slap against your ass.

you can barely get a word out.

"yes--i'm so sorry."

"tell me you love me." he wipes a tear from your eye. "tell me you fucking love me."

you nod, cumming right then. coating his cock in your slick, milking him.

"i love you patrick. love you so much. i'll never leave you again."

patrick cums too.

[callyourose]

match point, chapter one.

↳ masterlist

⸺ In which Art and Patrick find themselves intertwined with the relationship of tennis superstar Tashi Duncan and her best friend, Lennon Caddel.

LENNON CADDEL WASN'T SCARED OF TASHI DUNCAN. I mean, she was her best friend. Sure, Tashi was rude to some, intimidating to most. But Lennon might have been the only tennis player at the US Open that year who wasn't scared of her. She had learned that following her best friend around like a lost puppy was the best tactic, and she had gotten pretty good at it. She loved Tashi, adored her. No matter how good of a tennis player Lennon was, sometimes even better than the superstar herself, she would blush and smile and shy away from any praise from her. Tashi was the one that everyone noticed. The way she dominated the tennis court, even in a duos match. The way she swung her braid over her shoulder post win, while her opponent was throwing a temper tantrum just across the net. Everyone was enthralled by her. And Lennon understood it because she was too.

   "I'm just asking," Patrick said in between sips of Coke, standing in front of a poster of the stars of the evening, "If you had to pick, Lennon or Tashi?"

Art just shook his head. He and his best friend had been having this conversation for the better part of the day, beginning as soon as the girls finished their duos match. "I already told you dude," smacking Patrick on the back of the head, "I can't pick. I won't."

"Ever the feminist, Donaldson," the brunette replied turning his back to the posters and his friend. "It doesn't matter to me anyway. I'd let either of them fuck me with a racket."

Art tilted his head and raised his eyebrow, turning his neck to look at the boy next to him. A remark was on the tip of his tongue but he didn't get to start it before he was smacked on the shoulder and urged to look in the direction Patrick was pointing. 

He turned his body fully, scanning the lawn to find what Patrick was so urgent he see. There, standing around a table, was the duo of the hour. Lennon and Tashi were only about 20 feet away from them. They were huddled together, whispering and glancing at... them? Art caught Lennon's gaze and Patrick caught Tashi's and the two girls looked away quickly, giggling to each other. Tashi pinched the outside of Lennon's arm, causing the girl to yell out an "Ow!" and laugh. 

"Dude..." Art started, but Patrick was already in route. He was halfway to the girls before Art even had time to think.

Jogging to catch up, he was right by Patrick's side when he started with a "Hi."

The two girls froze before slowly turning around, Lennon's face was red and Tashi was biting back a laugh. "Hi," Tashi echoed.

There was a beat of awkward silence before Art jutted his hand out in Lennon's direction. "Art Donaldson," he introduced himself to Lennon before offering his hand to Tashi. Patrick followed suite with the introductions causing Tashi and Lennon to glance at each other and smile. 

"We know who you are," the taller girl responded before bumping her best friend's shoulder.

"Oh yeah, we know all about Mr. Fire and Ice," Lennon winked and Art and Patrick were convinced they were going to faint right there. Tashi Duncan and Lennon Caddel were not only talking to them, but they knew them? This is what their dreams were made of. 

"Uh..." Patrick started, unsure of how to respond before Art jumped in.

"You guys were fucking incredible today. Truly."

The girls bid their thanks and echoed their praises. The two best duos in junior tennis, magazines would call them. 

It wasn't long before Lennon and Tashi's parents had to steal them away. Photos with their trophies and kissing each others cheeks were in order. Patrick and Art hung back, gazing at them in awe. Each boy had subconsciously chosen a girl that they had their heart set on, even if it wasn't obvious yet. You could see it in the way their stare lingered on one girl before moving onto the other. You could almost feel it in the air.

Patrick and Art lingered at the party for longer than they intended to. They wanted the opportunity to talk to the girls again; get one more glance at the expanse of Tashi's legs in her dress and the batting of Lennon's eyelashes. They were about to give up, but almost as if they read their minds, Lennon and Tashi descended the stairs and into the area where the boys were sitting. Patrick called them over, the duo whipping their heads in their direction before sharing a smile and heading over. 

"You guys are still here?" Lennon asked, leaning into Tashi's side. 

"Uh, yeah! Great party," Art responded. He was leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He might as well have had hearts in his eyes. 

The girls shared a glance, and echoed their thanks. Both Art and Patrick were practically drooling in their presence. It was cute to Lennon, cute and embarrassing to Tashi. She was used to this.

"Don't you guys have a final in the morning? That you should be... I don't know. Resting for? " She asked, trying to have a real conversation. She was tired of the praises for the day. 

"I mean, yeah," The boys looked at each other and shrugged. "But we pretty much know how it's gonna go." 

Lennon and Tashi shared a look. It was getting late and even if Art and Patrick weren't going to rest, they were. 

"We should probably-"

"You should come by," Patrick interrupted. 

Tashi bit back a laugh. "Come by where?"

Patrick and Art scrambled to their feet. "Our hotel, he means. I, we, would love to talk about tennis with you guys. And Stanford. And..." Art glances them up and down, "Whatever else you want to talk about."

Tashi glances at her friend, who's already looking at her. There's a silent plea in her eyes, one only her best friend would be able to pick up on. 

But Tashi grabs Lennon's hand and begins to pull her away with her. "Goodnight," she winks. Lennon waves them goodbye and turns in the direction Tashi is pulling her. The boys can hear them bickering quietly as they leave.

"Was that a yes?" Patrick asks.

Art keeps his back turned to him, his gaze still following the girls as they leave. "It wasn't a no."