Halcyon ~ Art Donaldson

Halcyon ~ Art Donaldson

✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°

A/N: this was so fun to write, and I hope you guys like it as much as I did while writing it.

WC: 2,632

Warnings: religious subtext/descriptions (becomes more prominent/apparent as you read), smut, MDNI, fem!reader, older!art, porn w/ some plot, excess amount of making out, fluff

✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°࿐✧˖*°

Art couldn’t think of a better place to be than where he was right now. Nothing mattered at the moment — not his upcoming match, all those sponsorship deals he has to do, or even Tashi’s grueling training. No, all that mattered was you.

He had you cradled against his chest, and a feeling of contentment washed over him as you absentmindedly watched television. He smiled against your hair and intertwined your fingers, his thumb gently stroking against your knuckles as you played with his digits. He could feel the steady beat of your heart against him, the soothing rhythm allowing all his troubles of the day to wash away. 

“Feeling better?” He whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on the top of your head in the process. You mumbled a response and he let out a soft chuckle and drew you in impossibly closer. 

He would stay like this forever if he could, you were all that he needed, all that he wanted.

Art moved his head down and pressed his lips in a light trail along your jaw before gradually moving to your lips. It’s a tender kiss — encapsulating the tranquility of the night. His lips lingered on yours, savoring the warmth and softness of your mouth before pulling away and returning to kiss your jaw. 

 You sighed his name, the sound almost unintelligible, making him smile against your skin. His lips brushed along your jaw and down your neck. He felt your heartbeat pick up slightly, a small shiver running through your body.

“Shh, I know, baby. Let me take care of you.” He whispered, his breath warm against your skin, the words a testament to his devoted faith in you. He continued planting tender kisses along your neck, each gentler than the last — as though he was trying to imprint the feeling of your skin against him in his mind.

Your eyes fluttered shut and your head lulled back onto his shoulder, it tilting in the process to give him more access. Art moved one of his hands up your side, his finger gently tracing along your collarbone before moving towards the nape of your neck.

“You’re so beautiful, I love you.” He breathed out, the words spoken like a reverent prayer before he tilted your head back and captured your lips in a slow, gentle kiss. It was filled with love and adoration, a confession of his devotion and unwavering commitment to you.

You immediately responded to the kiss, unable to stop the small smile that formed on your lips. He felt your smile and it sent a rush of warmth through his entire body, his face mirroring yours. He deepened the kiss, his tongue gently sought entrance to your mouth. Your lips moved together in a slow, languid rhythm, as though you had an abundance of time to explore each other. 

You moaned quietly in the kiss, before pulling away, your need for air overcoming your need to kiss him. “Please…”

Art’s grip on you tightened, his heart rate picking up as he looked at you — a small string of saliva connected your puffy lips.  He looked at you with a mixture of adoration and lust in his eyes. “Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you need.” His thumb traced the outline of your swollen, glistening lips, his tone filled with longing and need. 

“You.”

Art’s breath hitched as you spoke and he brought a hand up to cradle your face. “You have me, my love.” He murmured, guiding you back to his lips. He kissed you with a growing hunger; his tongue explored your mouth as his hands roamed your body, tracing along your curves and committing them to his memory. As you kissed, he gently maneuvered so you were lying underneath him. 

He broke the kiss and began pressing open-mouth kisses along your jaw and down your neck, stopping at your collarbone to gently nip at it. Art continued his assault on your neck as you withered and moaned below him, leaving a trail of kisses and light bruises along your skin. His hands moved under your shirt, gingerly squeezing and pinching your breasts as he kissed your exposed skin — worshiping you with every touch of his mouth and hands. 

You wrapped your hand around the back of his head and pulled him back up, capturing his lips against yours. Art returned the kiss, his passion and desire growing with each moment. He moved a hand to tangle in your hair, the other gripping your hip as he continued to kiss you deeply, his body practically lying on yours.

You broke the kiss, breathing in short, jagged pants. “Art, please… I need you to fuck me.”

His eyes darkened with want. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.” His hand unraveled from your hair and moved down to trace along the edge of your shirt, his fingers lightly tugged at the hem. “Do you want this off?” 

At your nod, he doesn’t hesitate to gently pull your sleep shirt over your head off your body. His eyes raked over your bare torso and he ran his tongue over his bottom lip as his gaze lingered on your breasts. He quickly leaned down and captured one of your nipples in his mouth, licking and sucking on it as he used his other hand to pinch and roll the other with his fingers before switching his ministrations, making sure each received the same treatment. You moaned loudly and arched your back, pressing your breast deeper into his mouth before reaching down and tugging on his shirt. 

Art lifted his head and removed his mouth from your breast with a pop before pulling his shirt off in a swift motion. He tossed it aside and immediately resumed kissing you, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head while his bare chest pressed against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

He shivered at the contact, a low groan escaping his throat as he broke the kiss. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your neck as he nipped along your neck, focusing on your pulse point. His hands moved down your sides and dipped under the waistband of your sleep shorts, his fingers gently toying with your cloth-covered cunt.  

You gasped and tilted your head back onto the pillows, a surge of arousal flowing through you. Your sounds spurred him on, his mouth trailing down the front of your throat before moving around your chest as his fingers continued to tease your core. His fingers moved to the edge of your shorts, and he gently tugged on them.

“Can these come off, sweetheart?” He whispered against your clavicle, wanting nothing more than to worship you.

You nodded fervently, wishing for nothing more than to feel him inside of you. “Please.”

He lifted his head and pressed a delicate kiss to your mouth before moving down and pulling your shorts off, quickly discarding his along in the process. He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of your naked body beneath him before intertwining your hands and bringing them up to kiss each of your knuckles.

He lowered his body, his mouth hovering over yours. “You drive me insane, you know that?” He murmured against your lips as his tongue darted out to taste the skin next to your mouth.

“Yeah?”

“You’re the air in my lungs, the beat in my heart. I’m addicted to you. I would spend the rest of my life entangled with you if I could.” He leaned down and captured your lips in a gentle yet passionate kiss, pouring his soul into it. To him, you were a divine being, an entity sent from the heavens with the sole purpose of being worshiped and pampered by him. As the kiss continued, he used his body to position your legs wider, allowing him to settle between them.

Your heart fluttered at his declaration and you couldn’t help but tangle your fingers into his hair, drawing him as close as physically possible before tugging on his short, blond locks. 

Art groaned lowly as you tugged on his hair, the action sending a shockwave of pleasure through his body down to his painfully hard erection. He whispered your name like a prayer, his voice filled with reverence and adoration — at this moment he was merely a devoted man at the feet of his goddess, willing to do anything and everything to please her, to prove his worth to her. His hips rocked instinctively against your core, the motion drawing loud moans from both of you.

He broke the kiss to whisper against your mouth, his voice breathless and shaky. “How do you want me, baby?”

Your chest heaved as you attempted to process his words — your head was already fuzzy and you’d barely started. “In me, please, Art.”

He groaned at your request, his heart racing with desire. “Anything you want, sweetheart.”

Art reached down to position his cock at your entrance, his other hand grasping at your hip for support. He pumped himself a couple of times before gently pushing into you until he was completely seated inside of you. A strained, broken moan escaped his throat as he stayed buried at the hilt so you could get used to the sensation.

He felt like he was in heaven, every nerve in him was ignited while he was worshiping at the altar that was your body. He could feel his restraint slipping away, each touch and kiss exchanged was like a player, each moan and whimper a sacred utterance. 

You moaned as you adjusted to his size, your nails desperately gripping his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself. He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he savored the feeling of your weeping cunt wrapped around him. He slowly pulled himself out to his tip before pushing back in one long, languid stroke. 

Art’s head fell to your shoulder as your nails dug into his skin, the pain quickly morphing into pleasure — a shiver wracked through his body, his hips stuttering, and a groan muffled by your clavicle. Each thrust, each connection of their bodies was like a prayer, the rhythm of your love making a sacred dance. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear — a whispered mantra of your name and soft praises on repeat. He had never felt more alive than when he was with you — you were his salvation, each union becoming an act of divine grace in his eyes. 

He lifted his head slightly to look at you, your eyes hazy with pleasure while his filled with a sense of deep, unwavering devotion. “Sweetheart… I won’t… mmph- last long… you feel… so good-” He managed to get out, his mind beginning to blank as your cunt’s walls clenched around him; his hips instinctively rolling with each pulse. You were the only thing his mind could focus on, you consumed his thoughts, your body his church, his sanctuary, in which he is lucky enough to worship you at the altar of your pleasure and love. 

You whimpered his name, your face contorting with pleasure as his cock hit all the right places inside of you. “Me… Me either…”

Art’s grip on your hips tightened at your words, his breath coming out in short pants and groans as his thrusts became more frantic. It was overwhelming — the way you clung onto him, how your bodies molded to perfectly fit the other, how your moans echoed in the hotel room — yet it was just what he needed. 

“Play with your clit for me, my love. I want to see you pleasure yourself.” He whispered, one of his hands moving from your hip to slide your hair out of your face as he gazed down at you. 

You whimpered at his words and moved one of your hands down to your cunt, your pointer finger slowly tracing circles on your throbbing clit. He watched you with hooded eyes, unable to take his eyes off of you as he continued to thrust languidly into you. 

You quickly fell apart, brokenly moaning as your back arched into his chest, crying out his name as you cummed — your body trembling from the force of your climax. Your orgasm triggered his, his hips snapping into you rapidly before stuttering, the overwhelming feeling pushing him over the edge. He buried his face into your neck, his body shuddering against you as he let out a broken mantra of your name while waves of pleasure crashed over him.

As Art came down from his climax, he removed his head from your neck and pressed gentle kisses over your face, his hands grasping at your waist to keep himself grounded as his chest rapidly rose and fell with every breath. You stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, your bodies slick with sweat and your combined fluids. After a moment, your mind finally cleared up and your eyes opened. You were greeted with Art’s face hovering over yours, and you couldn’t stop the lazy, blissful smile that stretched over your face. 

He leaned down and pressed a light, gentle kiss on your lips before slowly pulling out of you and settling on his side next to you — feeling a wave of contentment washing over him. He brought a hand up to your face, brushing a few stray sweat-damped strands of hair away from your face while his other hand curls at your waist. “You alright, sweetheart?”

You curled into him resting your head on his chest “Mhm.”

Art smiled at your actions and shifted to pull you close, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he savored the feeling of you against him. He pressed a kiss to your temple and inhaled — breathing in the soothing scent of your skin as you lay together. 

He cradled you against him, occasionally pressing gentle kisses to your head as he rubbed soothing circles on your back as you languidly traced patterns on his bicep, mirroring his movements. His expression was tender and loving as he held you, cherishing the feeling of you in his arms. 

You craned your head up and gently kissed his jaw before settling back into his embrace. “I love you.”

Art hummed at the feeling of your lips on his jaw, his heart somersaulting your soft confession. He tilted his head down toward you and captured your lips in a tender kiss. “I love you too, sweetheart.” He whispered against your mouth, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. As he gazed down at you, he knew undoubtedly that you were an angel sent from above, his soul’s other half, the reason he kept going. 

As you finally settled, you nuzzled your head into his chest and stifled a yawn — not wanting the moment to end yet feeling the exhaustion creeping up on you. 

Art chuckled softly, the sound rumbling in his chest at your actions, his heart filling with affection. He pressed a kiss to your temple and shifted so that the top half of your body was lying on top of his. He pulled you impossibly closer, wrapping his arms around your torso. 

“Go to sleep, sweetheart. Get some rest.” He murmured, his voice low and soothing. His fingers began to gently play with strands of your hair, his eyes drifting shut as the exhaustion began to set in.

Art felt you relax against him, your breathing slowly evened out into a rhythmic pattern that signaled you were asleep. The sound of your peaceful breathing and the feeling of your heartbeat against him lulled him out of consciousness, his body finally relaxing as he fell asleep with you cradled in his arms. 

doubles ! challengers

“ tennis. guys. girls. sex. tennis…what else does an upcoming sports star need in her life? childhood best friends turned prodigies face more than their issues of being pitted against each other, struggling to share their position, but also their unfamiliarity in sharing love interests. if tennis is a relationship, then their’s is a double bagel ”

summary: a series of reader-insert imagines, retelling the messy and toxic webs of challengers at stanford university.

chapters !

friendly game - a x p x t

compensation - a (mdni)

scope out the competition - p (mdni)

fours a bunch - a x p x t (mdni)

take it easy - t (mdni)

night light - a

rehabilitation - a (mdni)

rift - t (mdni)

egoist - p (mdni)

(1/9)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐧

you’re an angel, i’m a dog | au series. no particular reading order. 18+.

art babbles when he gets close to cumming. you find creative ways to shut him up (smut. 18+)

𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐳𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠

patrick is nasty and gross and you fucking love it. 18+

you fuck coach!patrick in exchange for him teaching your son. 18+

patrick gets excited when you ovulate, and he obsesses over your pussy. 18+

you like being patrick’s good girl. 18+

older!stepdad!patrick teaches you how to suck dick. 18+

patrick wears vampire fangs for halloween

𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐝𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐧

𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲!𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

hot rod | art x patrick x fem!reader (threesome, smut, 18+ only)

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘 (A. Donaldson)

Part 2 of Thigh to Thigh

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Art Donaldson x fem! Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ MDNI, smut, angst, language, fluff, love confession, happy ending 🩷

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: The aftermath of the argument with tashi.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈

𝑰 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒚 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖, 𝒀𝒐𝒖

The argument you had with tashi has been replaying in your mind. The same question running in circles in your head. "Me or art?". And to add insult to injury, art heard all of it. Was he asking the same question? Him or tashi?

You had been avoiding both of them. Being succesful uptil now. While finishing an english essay you heard a knock at your door. It couldnt have been your roomate. She was at a lecture right now. Getting up and answering the door to your dorm, you were met with art.

Art-" you gasp being cut of as he pushed his way past you, into your dorm. "We need to talk" he breathes out, sitting on your bed. "About what?" You play dumb, crossing your arms nervously. "You know what" art looks at you.

Look y/n, im not asking you to pick me" he rushes the words out like hes been holding them in for ages. Chewing on your lip, you hug yourself. I just need you to know how much you mean to me," he sighs, tears brimming at his waterline. Which causes tears to brim in yours too. "even if we stay friends or dont." "you mean so so much to me." He cries, tears falling down his face. Standing up, he cups your face "I would destroy myself for you" "Art-" "Listen to me-" Art you should leave"

Silence. Pure fucking silence.

Nodding, he opens the door and speaks up before walking out "i love you". That makes you freeze completely, but not without tears rolling down your face.

Flinching as you hear the door shut, you just stand there. Standing there hugging yourself, while sobbing.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈

𝑰 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑰 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏

Its been two days since you last spoke with art. Those two days have been miserable. Downright depressing. You missed him so much. Knowing you hurt such a good person made you hate yourself. Especially hurting someone cause they loved you. Why did you tell him to leave? You didnt want him to leave. You needed him to stay, now more than ever.

You've just been bedrotting, barely eating, missing classes, the whole nine yards. Today, you decided to go to class. Not wanting to mess up your grades. The whole day was draining, dreadful even. Everything reminded you of art. You decided to blow off some steam. Going to play some late night tennis. You were just lazily smacking around the tennis ball.

Thats when you heard footsteps. Turning around, you saw art. With a heavy heart and sweaty palms, you greeted him. "Hi" you said nervously. "Hi" he replied, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. "Can we talk?" You asked "Sure" he nodded softly "my dorm or yours?"

His dorm was closer, you didnt want the walk to be long. Far too awkward. The walk was silent, but not awkward silent, calm silent. Like nothing had happend at all.

Now at his dorm. You both sat on his bed. "Im so sorry art" you spoke, tears rushing to your waterline, guilty look in your eyes. Tearing up, art spoke "y/n-"

"I never meant to hurt you-"

"Y/n-" "

"I just didnt kmow what to do-"

Pulling you in to a hug, cutting you off, he spoke "Its okay, y/n, really i understand. It was a tough situation" he sighed, rubbing your back. "You mean so much to me art" you huff out into his neck "i love you" you admit nervously, pulling away from him to look at his face. Searching for emotion. Thats when leaned in and kissed you.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝑰𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖

"I- i love you" art whimpers, cock drilling in and out of you "i love you- soso much."

"Hgh- i love you too. So much" you moan , pulling his hair, legs wraped around his waist as he thrusts into you. Soft yet powerful thrusts, full of love, and adoration.

Art trails a hand down your body to rub your clit. Making your back arch and eyes screw shut, letting out a high pitch moan. It was so much at once, the nips at your neck, the fast yet delicate circles around your clit, the thrusts, the love.

"I need you" he gasps "You have me" you reply, confused.

No, like i need you to-" he cuts himself off with a moan "i need you like you're oxygen" this makes your heart swell and eyes fill with tears. cupping his face, you rest your forhead against his "your mine and im yours, always" you kiss him. And like that you cum together in unison, looking into eachothers eyes, forhead to forhead.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐕𝐈

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑰'𝒅 𝒈𝒐 𝒂 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖

Chest to chest, face to face. You lay in silence, taking in the moment. When art breaks the silence.

" You know i meant every word, right?"

With the confused furrow of you brows he continues "id destroy myself for you" he pauses to interlock your fingers "im in love with you y/n" he admits.

"Im in love with you too art." You admit smiling "i pick you".

Now its his turn to be confused, "what?" He asks confused.

"If its between you or tashi, i pick you art"

With that, you both smile lovingly at eachother

He was family. He would kill for you.

Girl in New York

pairings - art donaldson/reader | challengers au! |

“__” = Y/N

masterslist | next chapter

sypnosis - men would call you a siren, and women would call you a bitch. but all he knows is that you’re his.

warnings - future smut

word count - 1.5k

authors note - this fic will be having a part two. its completely out my comfort zone, and i wanted to experiment my skills as a writer to create a character super complex. any hate will be deleted and blocked. reminder that this is purely fiction!

© elliotsblunt 2024. do not repost, modify, or translate.

His pink lips glistened with beads of sweat that resembled diamonds. Unknowingly licking your own—your thighs clenched as his girlfriend pecked his cheek. You didn’t know why, but having the attention of every man in the vicinity made you feel as if you were worth something. The pain on girls’ faces after seeing their man’s arms wrapped around your figure always made you….

…….bite back a smile.

Your current subject was taken. It was perfect. A challenge never bored you—but only encouraged your habits.

Art Donaldson was on every girl’s agenda at the moment. Whenever you went to your local gym, he was playing on the tv screen at every treadmill with hunger in their eyes. These suburban women go crazy for a pretty boy with nice eyes and a fit bod. And the fact that you’ve never seen him smile, is a plus. He wasn’t a pushover.

He was a challenge.

The blonde haired girl got on her tiptoes, wrapping her tiny arms around Art’s shiny neck. You could see his defined muscles slightly bulge beneath his completely soaked t-shirt, making him look absolutely delicious. He offered her a smile, mumbled something, and she nodded before going to the snack bar.

Taking this as your chance, you dug into your purse and pulled out a cherry sucker from a few days ago. Plucking it into your mouth, you hummed at the sweet tart like taste—carrying your long legs that were hugged tightly by a pair of tiny workout shorts towards the tennis player. He had been tying his shoe when you paused before him.

You cocked out your hip, clearing your throat. His eyes slowly trailed up your figure, jaw clenching as they finally met yours. “Cute girlfriend of yours. Looks pretty young, though….” you sigh afterwards, swirling your tongue over the top of the pop. Art’s eyes slightly widened at the sight, gulping. “I’m _ _! What’s your name, pretty boy?”

You already knew it. As soon as he had shown up on your tv screen.

His eyes were bluer in person, if possible. It was as if there were thousands of diamonds carved into his eyes as the sun set on them. Sun-kissed skin had a thin gloss of sweat from his tournament, his broad shoulders quickly going up and down as he breathed heavily. He was considerably taller than you. He had to look down at you.

“Uh…Donaldson. Art…Donaldson.”

Bending over a tad, making sure your large breasts slightly spill out your bra—you smile innocently. Your lips release the suction on the lollipop with a loud pop! “Pleasure! I was wondering if you offer private lessons?”

Shamelessly, his eyes darted over your hardened nipples. His tongue poked out and slid across his puffy bottom lip, “I um, I charge 20 bucks an hour.”

“Deal. But I’m sure we can come up with a way to give me a discount,” you winked, pulling out your phone from your bra. You heard his breathing turn ragged as you handed him it. “Put your number in. I’ll let you know when I can start.”

His teeth sunk into his lower lip, narrowing his eyes at you. “Just meet me here next Tuesday same time. Make sure to bring cash,” he muttered, looking away from you. Your brow rose at his sudden dryness—but realized you probably intimated him with your forwardness. And to make matters worse, his air headed girlfriend had returned with a boba drink in her hand.

“Art, who’s this? A friend?”

“_ _ Smith. And no—we aren’t friends. I’m only a customer, a happy one at that.” Excusing yourself, you made sure to not even glance at her. You sent a brow towards Art, his eyes filled with a storm.

“See you soon, Mr. Donaldson.”

When next Tuesday rolled around—to say you were ecstatic was an understatement. Your black tennis skirt stopped right at the bottom of your ass, a black skin tight jacket hugging your breasts tightly. The side of your heel hit the bottom of your racket as your hair swayed in its ponytail. A smirk grew onto your lips as you spotted Art, waiting for you at the court.

Pulling your glasses down, you noted how his intense eyes burned holes into your body. “Hello, again. Your girlfriend here?”

“Why does that matter?” His tone was cold—a challenge. Every second seemed to get better and better.

He looked scrumptious. There was a hickey poking out from beneath the collar of his white tennis shirt. His girlfriend probably left it there so you wouldn’t try anything—to mark her dominance per se. But the problem with that is, you don’t respect anybody’s property. What’s yours….

……..is yours.

Your brow raises. “I’m getting the impression you don’t like me to much.”

He scoffs, “I know what type of girl you are. Not interested.”

You didn’t realize this was an assessment.

“I’m unaware of what—“

“I have a girlfriend for fucksake, and you’re dressed like—like—“

You innocently round your eyes at him, deciding to play it off as if you’re hurt by his words. But he didn’t actually know the real you—he was just trying to paint a picture for his own benefit. He was scared of what you were capable of. Which meant he was cracking.

“I didn’t come here to be slut shamed,” you shrug, taking a step back. “I’ve been watching your tournaments on tv for a few months now, and thought you were beyond talented. I tried my best not to act too starstruck and got carried away.”

His eyes soften.

Bingo.

“But I’ll leave—“

“Look, I’m sorry. Let’s just forget about this and start over.” He ran a hand through his hair, then leaving it on the back of his neck.

You bit back a smirk.

There were pleading undertones laced in his words, feeling guilty for judging your outfit and questioning your morality. You knew this time to come off less forward, figuring out he liked submissive women instead. Women who go with what he wants, who let him control the situations.

“Understood. Shall we get started?” You offer, in which he chuckles and agrees.

For the duration of two hours, Art accessed your abilities. He complimented you multiple times on how quick you were. Although he was significantly faster when it came to hitting the ball—you knew he didn’t expect you to be at least a little good. After the session, Art when to retrieve the both of you water as you grabbed the cash from your purse.

You should’ve paid him triple just for how good his butt looked in those shorts.

“Thanks,” Art handed you your matte black hydroflask—snatching you from your thoughts. He watched you take a couple swigs from it, a drop of water rolling down between the crack of your breasts.

He licked his lips before chuckling, hoping you didn’t catch him stare. “You hate the color black, huh?”

Looking down at your hydro, you laughed before holding out the cash for him. “It’s my favorite color. Besides, it goes with everything.”

“Hm,” his eyes fall to your hand offering the cash. Instead of taking both 50 dollar bills—he takes one and sends you a smirk.

“You get a half off discount for me being a dick. One time offer.”

You nod and chew on your bottom lip as he swallows thickly. “Perhaps I can at least buy you a smoothie or something. It’s pretty hot,” you offer, adding a suggestive tone to the end of your sentence. Noticing a hard tent forming in his pants, Art steps back, clearing his throat.

“I can’t today. I’ll see you on Thursday—same time.” He mutters, turning around and offering a sheepish smile before walking away. You wondered if he was going to rub one out in his car, or fuck his girlfriend and imagining it was your pussy he was driving into.

The thought made a pool begin to seep through your panties.

The tip of his cock poking out between his fisted palm, leaking with drops of creamy pre-cum. A mouth of pure ecstasy pulling at his features as his mouth hangs open, gripping his center console as he finishes all over the interior of his car.

Or fucking his girl from behind, imagining your bouncy ass rippling with every thrust. His fingers tugging at your strands, reaching the deepest spot inside your dripping pussy. He would think of you—not her. He would….

……cum for you.

Patrick, your cousin, had been visiting from East Boston and staying at your family’s house. He was passionate about tennis, just like you, and pretty much taught you everything you know. That’s why you were so skilled. Learning from Art was simply to get into his pants.

And of course, he wanted to crash your tennis class with Art. Said some bullshit about Art and him meeting at a summer tennis camp—whatever. You were plotting on snatching Art from his perky titted girlfriend—but with Patrick there, it may be a bit hard.

“For fucks sake, I said no!” You shout before lighting a cigarette, painting your big toe a glittery cherry color you bought at the drug-store. You heard your neighbor slam their window shut before Patrick slides open the screen door and comes out to the backyard where you were. After taking a puff, you blow the smoke into his face. “Love you, cuzzo. But you’re cockblocking me here.”

Patrick snatched the cigarette from you, taking a frustrated hit of his own. “Didn’t you say he had a girlfriend?”

“And?”

You receive a glare, causing you to roll your eyes and snatch the cigarette back from him. “Fine. Whatever. You can come.”

He gasps before hugging you, causing you to scoff and push him off you. It would be cool for him to reunite with his old friend, but this was so not the time for that. Patrick got on your nerves but you had love for the dude. It’s always been hard to say no to him. It was despicable.

You took another hit. The rancid stench filled your senses, smoke swirling around your figure. After finishing your last toe—Patrick pulled up a chair and sits on it backwards. “You like this dude or what?”

A laugh couldn’t leave your lips after. Who does he think you are?

You haven’t truly dated a guy since you were seventeen. Ever since your ex, you didn’t grow feelings for another individual. And it had nothing to do with him—you just outgrew relationships. It was fun to have options. Especially when those options, were already taken.

Men with girlfriends are harder to obtain. They had settled already, and it takes a lot for them to trust you. But once there’s a clear understanding you don’t genuinely care for them…and only what’s in between their legs—

That’s when the real fun begins.

“Hell no. He’s hot. That’s it.”

Patrick lights another cigarette, nodding before blowing out the white ropes of smoke. “Ah. I see. You wanna fuck his brains out.”

“Precisely.”

“Back when I met him, he was dating this cute tiny little thing. What was her name? Tracy? Tara? Tam—Tiffany!”

Your smirk twitched, taking another hit of your cigarette. It was almost finished at this point. “Is she blonde?”

He looks over at you, sending a brow. “You know her?”

“I’ve seen her prancing around.”

“He told me she’s controlling and shit. Wonder if that’s still true,” he pops open the cooler and pulls out a beer, tilting his head back and taking a swig. You suddenly perk up at his words as he swallows the fermented alcohol harshly.

“Heard they took therapy classes together.”

You pressed a finger on your chin, giving him a mischievous look. “They’ve been together for a while now…huh?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Hm.

It was going to feel all the much better to steal him.

30s art donaldson tired af from tashi working him to the bone. so tired that he just wants to lay down but is also very horny cuz when is that man not and he asks reader “can you please just sit on my face” in a really quiet whimper or smth idk (i really just want to read about sitting on art’s face lol)

when art showed up at your door, sweaty and tired and flushed all over, you knew that you wouldn't be able to resist his pleas for attention. the exhausted, slightly defeated look in his gem-like blue eyes had you weak all over. it was just no use.

he looked like a kicked puppy.

or maybe just a really over-worked man.

but that was beside the point.

you ushered him inside, cupping his face and cooing at him in all the ways you knew that he needed you to. he pouted. he whined. you could practically imagine a tail tucked between his legs. his coach must have really chewed him out during practice. he had been on a downward spiral in terms of his ability to win for the last few months. it had been rough, to say the least.

he kicked off his shoes and stumbled over to your living room floor, sitting down on the carpet where he opted to stretch his hamstrings. you sat in front of him and ran a hand through his damp hair. he leaned into your touch instinctually, and then buried his face into your neck as his hands slid to hold your lower back.

you embraced him and rubbed his back, hearing him let out little noises of contentment as your palms caressed circles over his aching body. you pressed a kiss to his neck. he tasted like salt and self-doubt, which was not unusual for him after he had just freshly come back from the courts.

he moaned softly against you and then his lips were on yours with a tender ferocity that he always carried. his tongue was eagerly slipping past your teeth to lick at yours, and then he was pulling you closer and furrowing his brows.

"Please," he whispered against your lips as he tilted his head to change angles. his dick was already hard. that's how easy it was for you to get him worked up.

"What-" you pause, kissing him deeper, "What is it?"

his hands gripped your hips.

"Can you please just sit on my face?"

you felt your body warm up instantly at the sound of his whimpered plea, like a bucket of hot spring water had been dumped over you, and you nod slowly against his lips.

within thirty seconds, he was laying flat on his back on your floor, and the clothing on the lower half of your body had been removed and tossed aside to unknown places.

you crawled up his form, and he watched your every move with bated breath, letting his fingers ghost over your body as you inched your way up to his mouth.

when you finally hovered above him on your bent knees, pussy just inches away from his desperate tongue, he immediately shuddered underneath you and looked up to your eyes with a look that begged you before he could even get the right words out.

"C'mon, please.." he moaned pathetically, hands now grasping at your torso and trying to pull you down to him.

you smile, biting your bottom lip.

"Ask me again."

his hips lifted up from the carpet, bucking into the air and affectively jolting the both of you. it was an accident; he didn't mean to. it was just that his mouth was watering and he was too fucking aroused to think properly.

"Will you sit on my face? Please?"

and with that, you lowered your wet core down to his mouth and relished in the way that he immediately groaned into you. his hands tightly held the back of your thighs as his lips suckled on your clit and his tongue lathed sloppily over your slick folds. his tongue darted in and out slowly from your hole, trying with everything in him to taste all that he possibly could.

you rocked your hips over his face, smearing his chin and the tip of his nose with your slimy arousal, but he couldn't have asked for anything better. he loved this. he craved this with everything in him. he wanted you to sit on him like this for however long you could stand it. he could die like this and be happy.

your orgasm built quickly thanks to his expert knowledge on what and where you liked to be kissed and tongued, and he let you gush over his face until you were shaking like a leaf.

at the tail end of your climax, you felt his body shake below you, his eyes rolled back into his head as he gasped and murmured muffled words into your sopping cunt. you arch your back and pivot your body to look down at his form, and your eyes were instantly drawn to the wet patch soaking and growing over the fabric of his gym shorts.

he made you cum a second time after that. and then a third. and a fourth. your hands stayed tangled in his hair through each one, and you called out his name every time the waves of pleasure rushed through you.

even though you wanted art to feel better about himself in terms of his tennis career, there were certain.. perks to him feeling down about it. making you cum let him feel like a winner again, so you were going to ride this low-point of his for as long as you could. you knew he wouldn't mind.

-

(note, im gonna pretend that tashi + art were never a thing and that he and reader were always together:)