#Patrick Zweig x Reader
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never say sorry -sub!art donaldson x fem!reader smut
notes- this was literally supposed to be super short but i got carried away cause i am a whore (and proud of it)
cw- art is a little insecure:( , mentions of him having sex with tashi before (NO TASHI SLANDER I LOVE MY GIRL BUT IT'S FOR THE PLOT😭) , he cums prematurely (like...really..) art's a whiny little slut, art keeps calling reader love ( i got a thing for that pet name sorry y'all) , reader calls art 'artie' once cus it's cute&idc.
thinking about art constantly apologizing while having sex :( like ur unzipping his pants and he's already bucking his hips up into your hand, and then immediately muttering "sorry":(( my babyyy
so at first you think that okay, whatever, it's just something that slips out
but then he does it SO many times that you're actually starting to be concerned
like, you're giving him head and he moans a little too loudly- he's apologizing again. while kissing, you pull back for air and he still follows you, mouth half-open, wanting more - but then he realizes and he apologizes again.
but one time he really caught you off guard-
it had been a long day for him, spending almost all day training for his upcoming match. he barely had any time to rest, so he comes back to his dorm, taking off his shirt and pants, getting into bed with you only with his baby-blue boxer briefs on.
he kisses you. he's so fucking tired, but he still kisses you. 'cause he needs you, especially after the day he just had. you could feel his hard cock, practically begging you to take his boxers off.
"please love, wanna see you" he says while tugging at your top, watery eyes glistening with tears waiting to be spilled.
you take it off and unclasp your bra, little whimpers leaving his lips at the sight of you over him, with your tits out. you would love to take your time with him, really. to hear him beg and plead for you. but he's so eager, and so polite about it too- you just can't do that to him right now. so when you take off his boxers, his cock immediately jumps up, slapping his lower abdomen, right over his strawberry-blond happy trail.
"aww baby, look at you. you're so pretty aren't you?" you smile down at him, admiring how his legs shake slightly at every word you say. "hmm? aren't you?" you repeat. "mmghn- yeah, i- uhh i am" he says, eyes almost rolling back from the lack of touch. "you're what? say it." he sighs. you do this a lot. 'self love is important' you usually tell him- but not now. not when his dick is out, aching and leaking and begging to be touched. but just for the sake of it- just because he wants to please you, he says it. "i'm pretty"
"good boy," you coo, finally bringing a finger down to his cock, only to circle his pink, wet tip. and with that, he loses it. his mind goes blank, and he can't help it- all the waiting, the anticipating made him lose control of his body. he really didn't want to cum, he wanted to be good for you, but you were just so hot, he couldn't hold back. so immediately after his white, thick and warm liquid lands partially on his stomach and a bit on your hand, he starts babbling out apologies.
"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry love, please don't be mad, please- i'll clean up after myself- oh my god i'm so sorry-" he was so obviously tired, he could barely make up the words, yet he still continued apologizing. until you cut him off.
"art, baby- you dont need to apologize to me! what's up with this" you ask, softly. "you know i love making you feel good. and it's even better when i get feedback like this" you giggle. his cheeks turn bright pink as he covers his face.
"but i literally came the second you touched me" he mumbles, shyly.
you kiss his shoulder, smiling. "and it was hot."
"i- I don't know how to explain it to you, love- i just don't want to disappoint you. tashi used to hate it when i did any of this, she hated hearing me, and stuff like that- sometimes it made me feel like i was an object to her or something, y-you know? she'd get mad at me, and uh- it wasn't great."
"oh." you could actually feel your heart breaking for the boy. he was so sweet, he never deserved any of that. "well i'm not tashi, and i definitely won't get mad at you for anything like that. i like hearing you, and believe it or not, this was really fucking hot. you're letting me know i'm making you feel good. what's wrong with that?"
"just don't wanna upset you." art shrugs.
"i promise you artie, you could never upset me." you peck his lips and he smiles. "now let's clean you up"
#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson smut#art donaldson fic#challengers fanfic#mike faist x reader#challengers smut#challengers x reader#patrick zweig x reader#artpatrick#mike faist smut#mike faist#challengers movie#challengers 2024#patrick zweig#tashi duncan#josh oconnor#josh o'connor#sub art donaldson#smut#x reader#dom reader
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the golden quartet
art donaldson x reader, slight tashi duncan x reader, slight patrick zweig x reader, wc: 2k
author’s note: basically just a way less toxic (?) version of the movie with the reader inserted. they’re all still incredibly codependent and tashi/reader are very much in love and art/patrick are very much in love and art/tashi have their own kind of friendship/relationship and so do patrick/reader, but really patrick and tashi are one couple, art and reader are another couple, but like they would all live together and probably sleep in the same bed hypothetically. but in a healthy way. i like to imagine a world where they’re all codependent but skip all the “villain” allegations in their mess, and it’s just a beautiful unspoken symphony of love and four-way fidelity and infidelity. will probably write more in this universe.
“Tashi, stop it.”
Tashi stops and her eyes lock in on you, racket dropping to her side. “Stop what?”
You watch the way she bounces the ball a few times and don’t miss the way her gaze keeps flitting to your hand.
“Stop analysing me.”
She lifts a shoulder in a shrug, and doesn’t break your gaze. “It’s my job to analyse the opponent so I know how to win the game.”
“Yeah, but you’re not looking at me like an opponent.” Your lips purse. “You’re looking at me like you’re trying to calculate how to get me back on the court.”
“You’re on the court right now, aren’t you?”
“You know what I mean, Tashi.” Your racket falls to the court exasperatedly and you manage a step towards the net. “It’s over for me, I’m done playing tennis and I’m okay with that, but I’m not sure that you are.”
There’s just a tiny quiver in her eyes before her gaze steels itself again and she nods. “Fine. I get it.”
She tosses you the ball. “Just help me train.”
You watch as Tashi gets into position, and pick up your racket slowly. Maybe you shouldn’t have snapped at her. You so rarely do, but you’ve closed the door on that chapter of your life now, and you’re sick of her trying to pry it open. You don’t want possibilities of what you could have had. You don’t want to put in more years just to watch yourself fail at something you never really liked in the first place.
There’s a dull ache in your chest as you serve the ball.
Tashi Duncan has been your best friend for five years. For the life of you, you can’t remember the details of the tournament you were at, but you had a game against her. It was electrifying. You’d never played tennis like that before. It felt like you’d never known what it was like to breathe before Tashi Duncan. She basically crushed you, but you managed to get in a good few points, had the audience and line judges on the edge of their seats, and at the end of it, when you shook her hand, you felt like you’d just discovered a missing limb.
She found you afterwards in the stands and sat with you to spectate the next few matches. And hadn’t let you go since. You couldn’t imagine a life without Tashi. She was there for your first boyfriend, she was there when you broke up with him, she was there when you failed a class and your parents threatened to pull you out of tennis, and she was there when your wrist shattered and you quit.
Tashi never really understood why it was so easy for you to walk away. “You’re one of the best,” “You have so much potential,” “You can learn to play with your other hand.”
She never seemed to hear you when you said you didn’t want to play anymore. She’d look at you, with her piercing gaze then look away and move on. But the conversation was never over. It was like you didn’t exist to her without tennis, like it was your one achievement, and she couldn’t gauge who you were without it.
You suppose you were flattered, touched even, that she cared so much about you, in her own weird way.
Tashi looks at you questioningly when you lower your racket. You smile, “You should rest up. Your drills are perfect. You’re gonna crush her tomorrow.”
She takes a look at her watch, then nods. You can tell she wants to stay longer, but there’s really no reason to. Especially when you can feel her itching for a real match. That you can’t give her.
You bump her shoulder as the two of you walk out. “Wanna grab some donuts?”
The unimpressed face she gives you makes you laugh. “Come on, we can get you one of those healthy ones. The gluten-free, vegan bullshit.”
“Sounds delicious,” she drawls, but makes no further comments. You grin. A success.
She says nothing as you swing your borderline crippled arm over her shoulder, but you feel her muscles underneath relax just a little bit.
The following day brings a new round of pretentious young assholes on the court. Some of them eye you up as you make your way into the bleachers, whispering to each other. A girl comes up to you and asks for a picture. You’re a little surprised, and feel a little blindsided, but you suppose it’s only been a year since your injury. And well, considering where you are right now, it sure does seem to the rest of the world like you’re not fully done with tennis.
“Yeah, no problem,” you say with a smile.
The girl takes the picture, thanks you profusely then leaves, and you make your way up to the bleachers, and find a nice spot in the middle. Tashi liked you to be right in the middle of the game so you could watch her and her opponent. You wonder if she’s secretly preparing you to become an umpire.
There’s a flurry of whispers all too close to you, and then there’s a shadow blocking the sun to your left.
Two boys stand facing you, staring at you with their mouths slightly agape. You can’t help the amused smile that splits your face.
“Can I help you?”
The brunet snaps back into reality first. “Sorry, we were just— are you Y/N L/N?”
“Yeah, I am,” you say, eyes flitting between the two. They’re cute. Really cute.
The blond shakes his head slightly, like he’s coming out of a trance, and says, “Sorry, this is just the first time we’ve seen or heard about you since….you know.”
He winces, and his head ducks a little like a scolded puppy. “Sorry to hear about that, by the way.”
You let out a laugh that seems to catch his attention again. His friend jabs him in the side with his elbow. “Oh, don’t worry about it, seriously. It’s been a year, I’m over it.”
“Huh,” he says, nodding a little absently. He glances to the brunet, who’s just grinning at him. “Um, by the way, we’re—“
“Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig, right?”
The blond, Art, looks a little speechless.
Patrick chimes in. “Yeah, that’s us.”
“I watched your game just before. That was quite some victory celebration.”
The way Art’s ears turn red makes you happier than you’d like to admit. There’s a little flip in your stomach as he fumbles, “Yeah, well…”
There’s a flurry of movement as Patrick puts his arm around Art’s neck and pulls him impossibly close in a one armed hug. “Social conduct’s not gonna get in the way of me celebrating with my boy.”
The blond leans away and fights to get Patrick off him, and you smile as you watch. “Don’t worry, it was cute. Plus, I get it. We’re sort of the same way sometimes when it comes to victories. I mean, not the same, but you know.”
That seems to catch Patrick’s attention. “By we, do you mean you and—“
“Tashi Duncan!”
The announcement rings loud and clear through the speakers as she walks onto the court.
It’s almost comical the way Patrick’s jaw goes slack and he slumps onto the seat behind him.
You watch as Tashi waves at her screaming fans, shoots her winning smiles and makes her way to her side. She catches your gaze for a moment and you nod. She looks away and begins to stretch, but you’re not bothered. She knows you’re here, and that’s all you need. Can’t try and take Tashi Duncan out of the zone.
As you sit down, you’re a little surprised to find Art mirroring the action, still looking at you. “So, you’re best friends with Tashi Duncan?”
You nod. “Since we were like, thirteen.”
“Oh wow,” his eyes widen and you can’t help but think how impossibly cute he looks, “that’s almost how long Patrick and I have been friends.”
“Really? Oh, wow.” There’s a beat of silence, just long enough for you to catch each other’s eye and look away with awkward giggles.
Luckily, that’s when the match starts. And your focus locks in.
“COME ON!” Tashi’s scream is palpable in the air.
It feels like the wind has been knocked out of you. You’ve heard it a million times before, but it never fails to strike you.
There’s something akin to awe in Patrick’s eyes. Art looks like he’s in disbelief.
You can’t help but agree with their faces.
“So, are you guys coming to the party tonight?”
Patrick’s eyes flit away from Tashi’s to look at you. “Yeah, we were just talking about earlier. Art was saying how excited he was. He just loves parties.”
You can’t quite decipher the smirk on his face, but he looks like the kind of guy who’s never up to any good, so you turn to Art expectantly.
His eyes meet yours and your stomach does another little flip as he says, “Yeah, I’ll— we’ll be there.”
“Cool,” you reply. “I’ll see you guys later, then.”
You manage one quick glance back as you walk away, and see Patrick grinning and shaking Art’s shoulders. A smile plays at the corner of your lips and you leave.
Tashi finds you at your agreed-upon meeting spot, and wastes no time in grabbing your hand. “Come on.”
“Don’t you need to take pictures with your trophy?”
“Got a few, they’ll take more at the Adidas party. We’ve got to get ready.”
There’s a warm feeling like sunlight dancing in your chest as you let her drag you away.
The party is in full swing by the time you finally spot Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig lurking in the corner of the yard.
You’d just stepped off the dance floor for a moment, telling Tashi you were going to get another drink. The two boys seem to be arguing about something, but as you close the distance, you can see that they’re grinning too.
“Hey,” you greet the two. Their heads turn towards you in unison and they both stand up straight.
“Hi,” they chorus.
You take a sip of your drink as your eyes flit between the two. “So….what are you guys doing all the way over here?”
“You know,” Art says dryly. “Just enjoying the ambience.”
(Cute and funny. Man, you’re screwed).
“It’s a lot less creepy if you actually talk to her instead of just staring at her.” Your words are directed at Patrick, whose eyebrows shoot up. A smirk falls on his face. His charm instantly covers up the awkwardness.
Art barks out a laugh. (It’s a sound you wish you could inscribe in your mind).
“What makes you think I’m here for her?” Patrick smirks, looking you up and down. It’s so clearly a deflection, but it feels so natural that you can’t help but smile, and you feel your cheeks warm just a tad.
You glance back at the dance floor, and see Tashi excuse herself, glancing at you as she goes for her drink. You reach over to pat him on the shoulder. “Come on, I’ll help you out.”
As you turn on your heel and walk towards Tashi, you hear a slap behind you and an, “Ow!”
“Tashi!” The smile in your voice is audible as she looks up.
“Hey,” she smiles back.
Then, her head tilts to the side and she looks at the boys. “Hi.”
“Hi,” they both say.
There’s a quiet moment in which you all exchange looks, a twinkle in each of your eyes. You can almost feel a spark of something in the air, and suddenly you’re thirteen years old again, meeting Tashi for the first time. Like another puzzle piece has finally fallen into place.
You feel your chest warm. If only you knew what your life was about to become.
#so. Hi#challengers brainrot runs deep#challengers#challengers x reader#art donaldson x reader#patrick zweig x reader#tashi duncan x reader#challengers imagines#tashi duncan#art donaldson#patrick zweig#mike faist#josh o'connor#zendaya#written works !
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art would be eating you out but patrick gets jealous and they both fight to eat you out 🤗🤗
warnings: smut 18+, oral sex (f. receiving)
“fuck, right there! feels so good, art” you moaned as you ran your fingers through art’s blonde locks. his hands were pushing your legs further apart while he sucked on your clit so expertly, making you arch your back.
from your peripheral vision, you noticed patrick’s knee bouncing up and down, his painfully hard erection clearly visible in his pants as well as a wet patch forming on the fabric from precum. you promised he would get his turn after art, but with each passing second, it became increasingly difficult for patrick to just sit still and watch while soft moans left your pretty lips— it was torture.
“i can’t fucking take this anymore.” patrick muttered under his breath as he abruptly rose to his feet and marched towards the both of you before getting on his knees next to art and bumping his shoulder into art’s, causing him to stumble to the right. “what the fuck are you doing?” art snarled as he pushed patrick back with both his hands on his chest right when patrick was about to bury his head between your thighs. he tumbled backwards, giving art enough time to move his head to your cunt once again and pick up where he left off.
you smirked while observing the scene happening right between your legs, but without interfering as you let the boys fight for you. “just— let me join” patrick urged as he tried to squeeze his head between art’s and your left thigh, forcing himself to your dripping cunt. you grasped the sheets when you felt both their tongues eagerly against your pussy, fighting for dominance as you simultaneously felt their wandering hands all over your body.
the pleasure kept building, feeling as if you were in heaven with your right hand running through art’s blonde hair and your left through patrick’s curly locks. both of them occasionally made eye contact with you, causing your heart to skip a beat as they moaned into your core, the vibrations adding to the immense pleasure you were experiencing. “so fucking good, oh my god”
it was so fucking messy— saliva running down their chins mixed with your juices as they were fully making out with each other at this point. it became too much when one of them—you don’t even know who— pushed two fingers into your dripping hole before curling them up so perfectly, hitting your g-spot in no time and sending you over the edge.
“oh— oh my god, i’m coming— fuck!” a string of curse words left your lips as you firmly pulled both of their hair and arched your back, a wave of pleasure overtaking you as your eyes fluttered shut.
you slowly came down from one of the most intense orgasms you’ve had in a long time, your chest heaving up and down before slowly opening your eyes again, gazing down as both of their wide eyes stared up at you with mouths agape.
“fuck, that— that was so hot.” art stammered, shaking his head as he let out a chuckle. he then looked to the side, seeing patrick’s flushed face before gazing down at his crotch, the wet patch significantly more prominent, causing art’s smile to grow even wider. “did you just cum in your pants?” “can you blame me?”
#♡₊˚ for arina 🍒・₊#anon#art donaldson#patrick zweig#art donaldson smut#patrick zweig smut#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#art donaldson x fem!reader#art donaldson x female reader#art donaldson x y/n#art donaldson drabble#art donaldson blurb#art donaldson imagine#art donaldson fanfic#art donaldson fanfiction#art donaldson fic#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x you#patrick zweig x female reader#patrick zweig x fem!reader#patrick zweig x y/n#patrick zweig drabble#patrick zweig blurb#patrick zweig imagine#patrick zweig fanfiction#patrick zweig fanfic#patrick zweig fic#challengers smut#challengers
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The Winner Takes It All||Challengers
AN: So, I finally I got to see Challengers yesterday and boy do I have thoughts that may or may not be weaved into the story, things still might be ooc or wrong. Also, I'm warning y'all now, I know absolutely nothing about tennis/college and partook in half ass research on how the sport functions.
Based this fic off the most gut wrenching ABBA song because it fits so well with the story. I hope you all enjoy this mini series, don't know if I did it justice from translating this from my head onto Tumblr, but we move. And hopefully there aren't any spelling or grammar errors, but if there are, we die like men.
A playlist for this series is coming soon!
Word Count: 3.5k
Trigger Warnings: mentions of colorism and racism
Taglist: @seriousaliysa @hopless-y @malscorner @miximora @urfavesim @mmmunson @jackierose902109 @youngestxhearts @blkdivinefeminine @kailkailz @lottiematthewsceo @lonnie2390147 @begoniaespresso @everydayimagineer @pnkstalli @softimgyu @amethystwonders11 @hazbinh0e @ysuftmikey
I tried to tag everyone who commented, but tumblr is being weird so I don't know if you'll get the notification.
Part One: Sugar & Spice
With her arms folded across her chest, Gianna's eyes were glued to the TV screen in front of her as two male sports analysts began to discuss their pick for match of the day.
"Oh man, this right here was my favorite today!" one analyst stated excitedly.
"For sure! It was the match to watch as the tennis world bore witness to the next up-and-coming tennis star," the other commentator agreed.
The camera cut away from the men and to the highlights of the mixed doubles championship match.
"Out the gate Gianna Langdon, ranked number five in girls singles, set the the tone for the day with a powerful ace to start the match,"
A clip of the opening minute of the match is put on the screen with Gianna throwing the ball high in the air for the first, and perfectly executed serve, followed by her pumping her fist in triumph with a grin.
"From there, she and her partner, Max Sullivan, kept their opponents, Roy Christians and Marie Riviera on the back foot for what seemed like the entire match,"
Gianna studied the way she nimbly moved around on the grass court, her swift volleys, sharp serves, and effortless backhands left no room for doubt that she was a force to be reckoned with.
"Play of the match goes to none other than Gianna Langdon, with this volley to put the nail in the coffin of this championship," the analyst reported, as the final moments of the match popped up on the screen.
With a powerful strike, the tennis ball was slammed back over the net by Roy onto Gianna's side of the court. Roy's hit lifted the ball high into the air forcing Gianna to reposition herself and backpedal to the spot to return it. Leaping up, Gianna smashed the ball down with force, out of reach from both Marie and Roy, the game winning hit. The clip replayed, but only this time in slow motion, so viewers at home could properly admire the athleticism on display. ESPN then did a jump cut of Gianna and Max both dropping their rackets simultaneously before rushing towards each other to embrace. Max even lifted up her a bit, twirling them around as they celebrated their victory.
The camera panned back to the two commentators who were wrapping up their coverage of the tournament.
"Honestly, Gianna Langdon just dominates the tennis field for her age group whether it's single or doubles," the commentator complimented, gathering his papers up in his hands and tapping it against the desk.
Gianna's lips lifted at the praise, its rare she gets her flowers as a tennis player.
"She's a force to be reckoned with, no doubt about that. If she keeps playing like she is now, she can easily break into the top three, but she's no Tashi Duncan," the other commentator corrected.
At this, her smile instantly fell off her face. Since freshman year of high school, Gianna has forever lived under the inescapable shadow of the phenomenal, powerhouse that is Tashi Duncan. Because Tashi wasn't just some athlete, she was the athlete. The next Serena Williams, as some people taken to calling her. Gianna might as well been chopped liver.
The girls have been thick as thieves since Gianna moved to the same school as Tashi and was paired up by their coach to be doubles partners. The duo were unstoppable on the court, as Gianna was a tennis prodigy in her own right, but often was relegated to just being known as Tashi Duncan's partner. A repeated slight which didn't go unnoticed by her two strongest supporters, her parents. They made it their mission to drill Gianna with an unshakable sense of self confidence in not only her skills with a tennis racket, but also her appearance.
"Don't you ever let the media or naysayers play in your face about your talents, Gianna," her father's words echoing in her head. "You already know, you have to work twice as hard to get half the recognition compared to others," he went on.
Gianna recalled the exact day, he gave her this speech. She was probably fifteen and won a match against some Eastern European girl, it was an upset, and boy did everyone make it a point to tell her so. It ranged from backhanded compliments to outright slurs lobbed at her.
"Oh, so when Tashi pulverizes her opponent on the court who's ranked higher than her it's admirable, but when I do it's a problem!" she complained.
"Competing against Tashi, you need to be prepared that narratives are going to be formed and pushed from factors beyond your control," her father warned. "She's lighter, you're darker. She's thin, you have curves. You're both confident, but only one of you is going to be labeled as arrogant," he listed.
"It's a shame we didn't get to see Duncan and Langdon compete together in girls doubles this year," the analyst said, snapping Gianna out her thoughts.
"Agreed, the best girl duo in juniors we've seen in years,"
Images of Gianna and Tashi materialized on the screen, some were from the last two Junior US Open Championships; both of the, proudly beaming and holding their trophies high above their heads and kissing each other's cheek. But, the one picture that stood out the most to Gianna was their cover on Tennis. Both of them had their arms folded and their game faces on with the headline emblazoned below them.
“Sugar & Spice”
~~~x~~~
Rounding the corner of the hallway, the doors where Tashi's party was being held outside came into Gianna's view. Music and the low murmur of voices floated out of the room, bouncing off the walls as she drew closer. From the corner of Gianna's eyes, she caught her reflection in the hallway mirror promoting her to stop. A pair of eyes, identical to color of rich, molasses stared back at her. Carefully, Gianna studied herself in the mirror from every angle. The healthy glow of her golden, deep brown skin made the light dusting of freckles decorating her upper cheeks and nose more prominent.
"She's no Tashi Duncan,"
It only took those four, little words to dampen Gianna's cheery demeanor and leave her brooding since the afternoon.
Lips pursed, she shook her head slightly, "No, no, no," she whispered to herself. "You're still a champion, Gianna. Fuck that ESPN analyst," she said lowly, smoothing out the pale yellow halter dress she wore.
Letting a lopsided grin grow on her lips, Gianna moved away from the mirror and entered into the ballroom where the party was in full swing. She weaved her way through the crowd to find Tashi, but found herself stopping repeatedly to smile and shake hands as people crowded round her to congratulate her on her match. Gianna couldn't help but feel smug. For once, people were basking in her presence and enjoying the chance to meet a future tennis star in person. It boosted Gianna's ego—a pure, bone-deep satisfaction that something in the air was beginning to shift.
She was starting to be seen as a standout player, not just an extension to Tashi.
Thanking her last well wisher, Gianna's eyes met Tashi's who was a few feet from where she stood. A flicker of recognition flittered across her face and she smiled a tiny smile. Tashi was not alone though, two boys were standing in front her and seemed to be having a very lively conversation.
"What's this I see?" Gianna wondered aloud, brushing past one of the boys. "I'm gone for a minute and you're already making new friends without me," she joked, dropping into the empty chair next to Tashi.
Across from her, both boys were slack jawed and unable to tear their eyes away Gianna. Pride simmered in her chest, Gianna already knew that she was beautiful, but it was nice to be reminded of that fact every now and then. Especially, when there's two boys ogling at her looks and treating her like a divine being.
"You boys gonna stop staring and introduce yourselves, or what?" Gianna questioned, her words flavored with a lulling Louisiana drawl and the boys snapped from their stupor.
"Let me, these two seem to be malfunctioning," Tashi cut in, with a smirk.
"They keep on drooling any longer, they'll catch flies," Gianna quipped, her nude colored lips curling upwards.
Tashi motioned to the dark haired boy with sharp features, "This is Patrick Zweig," she introduced, as Gianna's eyes met Patrick's gray ones, holding her stare and grinning widely. Confidence that bordered on cockiness practically radiated off him. "And this is Art Donaldson," Tashi continued, gesturing to the boy next to Patrick.
Art only allowed himself a small, shy, smile when her eyes shifted over to him. Unabashedly, Gianna let her eyes roam over Art's features. Those blond curls, those blue eyes.
God, they're both gorgeous.
Tashi placed her hand on Gianna's knee, "Patrick and Art, this is my best friend—" she started.
"Gianna Langdon," Patrick and Art interjected simultaneously, causing a Cheshire grin to form on Gianna's lips.
"Well, well, my fan club only continues to grow this tournament," Gianna joked, playing with the curly ends of her pick and drop braids.
"Deservedly so, you were absolutely amazing this tournament," Art complimented, a breathy chuckle leaving him.
"That play when you landed a split after playing a return," Patrick mentioned, beaming at her. "And you still got the point, fucking incredible!" he praised, shaking his head.
She smiled, "Oh, so you two have been avidly watching my matches then?" Gianna questioned, playfulness in her voice while slightly leaning forward in her seat.
"Ashamedly, not initially," Art admitted, and Gianna quirked brow. "But after your storybook comeback in Round 4, we knew there was no way we couldn’t stop watching you," he added quickly.
"Singles or doubles," Patrick chimed in.
"Did you by chance watch any of our matches, Gianna?" Art asked timidly, staring at her with hopeful eyes.
She smirked, "Singles or doubles?" Gianna asked back, smoothly echoing Patrick's words.
"Either," Patrick responded, his eyes drinking her in.
They both seemed mesmerized. Leaning in closer, as if they were going to learn her with their close proximity. Gianna hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in her chair and raising a finger to her chin to mull over the question. She glanced over to Tashi, who was already watching her with an amused expression. Embarrassingly, Gianna kind of forgot her best friend was literally sitting next to her, she had become too engrossed in her conversation with the newcomers.
"No, can't say that I have," Gianna answered finally, with a shrug.
Art deflated, his face falling as the tips of his ears went fiery red, while Patrick's shoulders sagged a little.
"O-Oh," Art breathed.
There was a silence. Gianna looked off to her side again to see a ghost of a grin threatening to appear on Tashi's face. When the two girls' eyes connected with each other, they burst out laughing at the same time. Both boys looked at each other wordlessly, both speechless by this.
"Gia's just fucking with you two," Tashi explained, in between laughter.
Relief couldn't have been written across their faces more clearly.
"Yeah, I actually watched your championship match while I was in the recovery room," Gianna informed, her giggles subsiding. "Your between the legs shot was very inspired, Patrick," she remarked, with a smile.
At this, Patrick puffed out his chest a bit.
"You know, they're playing against each other tomorrow in the boys singles championship match," Tashi mentioned, her eyes bouncing between the boys.
"Are they now?" Gianna responded, an intrigued smirk gracing her face while crossing one leg over the other.
"We are!" Art blurted out, almost too eagerly.
"You both should come and watch," Patrick suggested.
Gianna cocked her head to the side, "Hmm, maybe," she answered, having a little fun toying with them.
Tashi rose from her chair, reaching her hand out for Gianna's.
"Come on, my dad is waving me over to come take pictures," Tashi informed.
"This is a group activity?" Gianna questioned, her brows furrowing.
"No, but the demand for Gianna Langdon is ever growing," she reminded, her eyes filled with mirth.
"It sure is," Gianna agreed, taking her hand as her friend helped her to her feet. Gianna looked over to Patrick and Art. "Well, ciao. It was nice meeting y'all," Gianna said, waving goodbye as Tashi led her away.
"Goodbye?" Patrick jokingly scoffed. "We'll be here all night!" he called out after her.
~~~x~~~
True to their word, Patrick and Art were in the same spot where Gianna and Tashi had left them earlier and they were more than willing to continue hanging out with the girls. Which is how the group of four found themselves on the beach, slowly treading along the sand, the dark blue sky and millions of stars above them. Naturally, Tashi had found herself in the middle of the group with Patrick flanking on her left and Art on her right.
Gianna was next to Art and as they walked, their arms would accidentally brush against each other every now and then. Both of them exchanging shy smiles at the fleeting contact that sent butterflies fluttering in Gianna's stomach. She secretly relished the contact from Art, he radiated warmth similar to that of a dryer-warm blanket; a nice contrast to the cool sand between her toes.
"You know earlier, Tashi asked us who was fire and who was ice," Patrick spoke, looking over to Gianna. "I figured I should return the favor, between the two of you, who's sugar and who's spice?" he asked, his eyes bouncing from Tashi to her.
"Tashi, is definitely 'spice'," Gianna answered, and Tashi rolled her eyes with a smile. "She's more fiery than me and has a more aggressive play style than I do," she explained.
"Making you 'sugar', of course," Art reasoned, the two staring at one another. "You are the perfect mix of deadly grace and effortless balance on the court," he described, going in an almost dreamlike trance.
"Why, thank you Art," Gianna said, bumping her arm into his.
"If Tashi is 'spice' and your 'sugar', why does the media switch it around?" Patrick wondered.
"Preconceived notions, methinks," Gianna replied, simply shrugging her shoulders.
They wandered along until they settled on a spot to hang out at. Art and Patrick both sat in deck chairs while Tashi and Gianna perched themselves on a large rock. Conversation flowed between all them on a myriad of topics ranging from college, life in general, and of course tennis.
"So Gianna," Patrick began, a small curious and mischievous glint in his eyes. "Your doubles partner Bryce—"
"It's Max," Gianna corrected flatly, with a laugh.
He smirked, "I was in the ballpark," Patrick argued, throwing his hands up. "Anyways, you and Max, you two a thing?" he asked curiously, before taking a drag of his cigarette.
"Eww, no!" Tashi exclaimed, her nose twisting in disgust. "You think Gia has such low standards?" she asked back, clearly offended on Gianna's behalf.
"Tashi, come on, Max is not that bad of a person," Gianna stated, lifting her hand up to tell her to calm down.
"Honestly, I don't know how she does it," Tashi went on. "It's a miracle she can still walk after carrying Max through this entire tournament," she sneered.
"Look, Max is not someone who I would consider as an ideal mixed doubles partner," Gianna conceded, her gaze meeting everyone's. "He's mediocre actually," she said bluntly, making Patrick and Art both snicker. "However, Max as an individual and not as an athlete, he's a wonderful guy," she said, with a slight shrug. "Us dating has never once crossed my mind," she finished, waving her hand dismissively.
"So it sounds like you'll be in need of a new partner soon," Patrick hinted, a hunger in his stare.
"Hmm, I guess I will," Gianna agreed, letting a coy smile grow on her lips. "You know anybody?" she asked, tilting her head a little.
"I can think of two people off the top of my head," Art responded, taking a drag of his own cigarette and blowing it out slowly.
"Oh, is that so? And who just—" Gianna started.
Suddenly, Gianna's phone began noisily vibrating in her lap, putting an end to the playful between the boys and Gianna. She picked up her phone and flipped it open before exhaling heavily, it was her dad texting her.
"Shit, fun's over guys," Gianna announced, with another sigh. "My dad wants me back in my room," she explained, unfolding her legs.
"Your won a championship today, and you're father won't let you stay up late to celebrate?" Patrick asked in disbelief, leaning forward in his chair.
"Obviously, you don't know my father if you think a single championship win is going to get him to loosen his reins on his regimented schedule for me," Gianna stated, grabbing her sandals and letting them dangle from her fingers.
"You're about to be off to Stanford, it's insane your dad is giving you a curfew," Art chimed in.
"Well, I'm not at Stanford yet," Gianna pointed out. "And also..." she trailed off, turning to Tashi who had a knowing look on her face. "His roof, his rules," they both said in unison, after hearing those words countlessly over the years.
Finally standing up from the rock, the boys followed suit. Both of their gazes traveled the length of Gianna yet again, as if they needed to commit her to memory.
"I can walk you back to the ferry and to your hotel," Art offered kindly.
"We both could," Patrick volunteered.
"As much as I am flattered that both of you want to walk me back, I can manage just fine," Gianna assured. "Plus, we're all going to be playing an unwanted game of 21 questions if my dad sees two, random white boys walking me to my room," she remarked, with a chuckle.
Tashi pushed herself up onto her feet, "I'll come with you, Gia,"
"No, no stay, Tashi," Gianna encouraged. "Don't end the fun on my account," she insisted. "Another time will come about for all of us to hang out again, right?" she questioned.
A toothy grin broke out on Patrick's face, "There's gonna be another time?" he asked
"I don't see why not," she answered, mirroring his expression. "The three of us are going to be at Stanford together, and I'm sure you come visit from time to time. It all works out so well!" Gianna said excitedly.
Art opened his mouth to speak, but the shrill ringing of Gianna's phone silenced him. Looking down at the phone, she grimaced slightly.
"Shit, I really have to go, my dad is calling now," Gianna stressed.
"Then get going," Tashi prompted, playfully swatting her bottom.
A surprised whoop escaped Gianna's lips before morphing into a giggle as she began to half-walk, half-jog away from the group. She spun around to face them, continuing to walk backwards.
"This was really fun y'all, we should do this again, yeah?" she yelled.
"I look forward to it!" Art yelled back.
"Me too!" Patrick shouted.
Laughing, Gianna spun around and jogged away, all too aware of the three pair of eyes boring into her back.
~~~x~~~
Propped up against the hotel bed headboard, Gianna was tucked underneath the blankets with a well-worn copy of Baking with Julia in her hands. If tennis was her first love, then baking was her second. There was nothing more relaxing than to Gianna than being able to slow down and just allowing herself to focus on precision, without any of the heightened stakes that came with tennis. Not to mention, beating eggs or whisking a cake were great ways to rid herself of any frustration she may be feeling.
A series of rhythmic knocks on her door pulled Gianna from her musings. She didn't even have to ask who it was, she could tell by the pattern of the familiar knock.
"Just use the card I gave you, Tashi," Gianna called, her voice just loud enough for her to hear.
There's a quiet click of the door unlocking before the door opened a crack and Tashi's head popped into her room, a shit eating grin on her face.
"Hurry up and get in here, before my dad sees!" Gianna ordered, with a laugh.
Closing the door behind her, Tashi pranced over to Gianna and sat beside her on the floor on the edge of her bed.
"Tell me everything! What happened after I left?" Gianna asked, a smile of her own on her face.
"They invited me to come up to their room,"
"And you went?"
"I did," Tashi answered, a smirk on her lips.
Gianna landed a playful hit on Tashi's arm, "No fucking way!" she whispered, her eyes wide. "You hooked up with both of them?"
"I didn't sleep with them," Tashi corrected. "We only made out, and then they made out," she added, smirking proudly.
Gianna raised an eyebrow, "They made out? Patrick and Art?" she questioned.
"Yep," Tashi grinned.
"On their own or did they have some help?" Gianna asked, arching a brow.
Wordlessly, Tashi plucked Gianna's book from her hands and she straddled her, resting each leg on either side of Gianna.
"They did most of the heavy lifting, I just gave them the push they needed," Tashi explained, looping her arms around her friend's neck.
"Now, I'm a little jealous. I missed out on all the fun," Gianna complained, sticking out her lower lip in a mock pout.
"Gia babe, don't worry, I did not forget about you," Tashi reassured, as Gianna hands came to rest on Tashi's thighs. "Remember their match tomorrow?" she reminded.
"Yeah,"
"Winner gets my number…." Tashi trailed off, removing her right arm from around Gianna's neck. "And yours," she finished, lightly tapping the tip of her nose.
A slow smile spread across Gianna's lips as Tashi's words sunk in. She knew exactly what her friend was up to, especially if it meant Tashi could watch some "real fuckin' tennis".
"Tashi Duncan, the girl that you are," Gianna praised, letting out a chuckle.
Leaning forward, Gianna planted a soft kiss on Tashi's lips. It was only meant to be a quick peck, but as Gianna went to pull away, Tashi held her face, keeping their lips connected.
Tashi withdrew herself from Gianna, "Tomorrow is gonna be so fucking good," she grinned, her eyes twinkling at the thought. "And guess what is the best part about all of this, Gia?" she questioned, their forehead resting against each others.
"What?'
"We already have them wrapped our fingers, without even trying," Tashi answered, sending the girls into a fit of giggles.
#black!reader#art donaldson x reader#patrick zweig x reader#challengers x reader#black fanfiction#tashi duncan x reader#black!oc#challengers#tashi duncan#art donaldson#patrick zweig
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patrick would 100% smoke during sex and I would die to hear your crumbs on it
love u
smoking; riding; MDNI 18+
w/ PATRICK ZWEIG
he wouldn't have the decency to blow the smoke away from your face. he forgets to. truly. he's already entranced by you, focused on the slow movements of your hips. he cannot be bothered to tilt his head away from you. he has a hand on your waist, his thumb rubbing into your skin. the other hand repeatedly comes up to his mouth, completing a motion somehow more addicting than the squeeze of your cunt around his cock.
and then you scoff. that doesn't deter him. you swearing at him doesn't deter him. the only thing that gets his attention is you stopping. he looks up at you, eyebrows furrowed together, eyes wide with shock.
"away from me, patrick," is all you have to say and he's quickly correcting his mistake.
he's apologetic, more so because he's scared you'll get off of him if he doesn't apologize than because he's really sorry.
"sorry. i forgot, baby." pulling the cigarette away from your lips to suck on your tongue instead. you put up a front, but you're reciprocating, ignoring the taste of tobacco while you continue to ride him.
#i immediately thought:#dont kys a thought from icarus will save u#patricksworld!#mooties : kaia!#celeste writes challengers#patrick zweig x reader
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Teach Me
summary: imagine Art asking Patrick how to eat a woman out and Patrick happily complies - asking his girlfriend to help. 18+ no minors
warnings: oral (f receiving), elements of cuckolding (I mean look at the summary), art being a whimperer, masturbation (male), slight dry humping.
word count: 872
"You want me to what?", Patrick asks, wondering if his best friend was currently out of his mind.
"I want you to teach me how to eat someone out. Celia asked me last night and I completely blew it", Art explains.
"You're insane"
"Please, I'm desperate here"
Patrick looks Art up and down before smirking.
"Fine, come over to my place at 9. You owe me big time"
9:00pm
Art knocks on the door wondering what the fuck he's doing. It was just like school when he asked Patrick how to jerk off but slightly more embarrassing. The door opens revealing …you.
Patrick's girlfriend.
"What are you doing here?", Art says, walking through the door to face you.
"Patrick said he wanted me to teach you about eating a woman out."
"Wait, what?"
Art sees Patrick emerge out the bedroom door trying to stifle his laughter.
"I asked for your help, Patrick. I don't need a practical lesson." Art pleas
"Practice makes perfect." Patrick says. "You coming or what?"
You walk towards the bedroom, reaching the door before looking back at Art, smirking.
"Come on it'll be good for you".
***
You lie on the bed, Art standing at the door and Patrick sitting on a chair in the corner. Art walks over before hesitating.
"Patrick, she's your girlfriend. I can't -"
"Art. I don't mind sharing."
Patrick gestures towards you on the bed, knowingly nodding to Art. Art approaches, getting on top of you, kissing your neck with his open mouth before pulling your top over your head. His kisses move over the top of your boobs as you push up, gasping, leaving enough room for him to remove your bra.
He begins pinching at your nipples with your teeth, nibbling the skin, leaving you breathless. Art is so focused on you, that he forgets Patrick is there.
"Don't have too much fun, remember this is a lesson" Patrick speaks, knocking Art out of his daze. "Take her pants off and kiss down her stomach."
Art readily complies, pulling down your leggings and kissing the skin that slowly gets revealed.
"Fuck." you gasp, as Art moves closer to your pulsing heat.
"Kiss her over her panties, she likes that," Patrick instructs.
Art does just that, teasing you as you writhe on the bed.
"Please, Art, fuck" you beg, slowly pulling on his hair.
Art looks at Patrick for instruction as he begins to pinch your thighs, seeing Patrick rubbing himself over the top of his shorts leaning back in the chair with the same dazed look as you.
"Take her panties off"
Art pulls your thong off, looking at the glistening heat in front of him. He pulls your legs apart kissing slowly towards your clit.
"Please Art," you whine, looking over at Patrick, who by now is slowing tugging at his cock watching Art begin his feast.
"Tell him what you like baby." Patrick tells you.
"Art, kiss my clit", you tell him, pulling his head up to your clit, making him whine in the process.
He begins to kiss your clit, dragging his tongue, enjoying your taste and your sweetness. Patrick sees Art slowly move against the mattress, humping it to give his dick some relief as he tastes you.
Art slowly moves his tongue in and out of you as you keep pulling on his hair.
Your moaning gets louder as Art licks faster, nipping at your clit as his hands dig into your thighs. Patrick remains in the corner, indulging in the site before him seeing the pleasure that Art is giving you, watching Art's spare hand move up your torso and begin groping your tits.
"Use your fingers.", you tell him. "Look at my hand, Art"
He looks up, leaning into your thigh, watching your middle and ring finger in a 'come here' motion. He smiles before diving back in, adding his fingers, making you arch your back in pleasure.
"Oh my god, right there", you yelp, Art's fingers reaching that spot inside you, making you moan and mewl with raw abandon.
"Mmm, fuck", Art moans into you as he ruts against the mattress, desperate for release.
"Fuck, right there Art.", you moan, nearing closer to the edge.
You open your eyes, locking your gaze with Patrick who pumps his dick faster, watching your arch your back as your orgasm overcomes you. Art keeps moaning into you, as you cum, licking up all that you give him. His humping becomes more noticeable as he reaches his peak, cumming in his pants and whimpering into your thighs.
You both look over at Patrick, who's cum is covering his hands and thighs. You look down at Art, who lies on your stomach, heaving with heavy breaths.
"You didn't need much teaching, did you?" you ask Art, before collapsing back on the bed.
Patrick walks over, sitting on the bed, lifting your head onto his lap, and kissing your head.
"Was that good for you?" he asks you, looking at Art.
"Very much. I think we should keep him around."
You both stare at Art, smirking, imagining more sexual adventures between the three of you as you fall into slumber on Patrick's lap with Art's head on your stomach.
#patrick zweig x reader#art donaldson x reader#challengers smut#challengers x reader#art donaldson smut#patrick zweig smut
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college art and patrick sharing you ; mdni
there’s only one rule in your little arrangement, no telling each other about what you do behind closed doors.
that rule never stopped the two boys from claiming you in their own ways.
one night, you’re at patrick’s dorm, letting him roughly fuck you from behind, pulling at your hair and making you suck on his fingers.
“fuck, you take me so well.” he grunts, thrusting into you. “does art fuck you this good? hm?”
you open your mouth to say something, but the only thing that follows is drool pooling around the man’s fingers.
“answer, baby.” he removes his fingers from your mouth and tightens his grip around your hair, yanking your head back to look at him.
“patrick.” you start, your sentence getting cut off with a loud moan as he hits the sweet spot of your cunt. “fuck! i thought you and art had a deal, the two of you don’t talk about me and i don’t talk about the other one when i’m with one of you.” you pant.
“fuck the rules.” he huffs, picking up the pace of his movements, fucking into you at a faster rate.
a few days later and art is at your dorm, his head between your legs as he licks your clit, coaxing out pornographic moans from your mouth. you toss your head back and your legs start to shake, “art, i’m so close!”
your words only motivate him to flick his tongue faster, your pussy clenching with a knot building in your stomach.
“oh, fuck, i’m cumming.” your eyes flutter shut and you cum all over his tongue, words of praise escaping your lips as art helps you through your orgasm.
“you did so good.” art pulls away from your core and instead starts kissing the soft skin of your thighs, making sure he leaves behind marks for the next time you’re with patrick.
from then on, each night you spend with the two boys turns into a silent competition between the two, of who can fuck you better.
#x reader#fanfic#fanfiction#challengers x reader#challengers smut#patrick zweig imagine#patrick zweig smut#patrick zweig drabble#patrick zweig x reader#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson smut#art donaldson drabble#challengers#art donaldson#patrick zweig
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sore loser — (a. donaldson/p. zweig)
summary: you're just trying to enjoy your lunch, but you can practically feel the two pairs of eyes on you | content/warning: reader also plays tennis, reader is kinda mean but not really.
You absent-mindedly poked your fork into the leftover piece of lasagna as your head rested in your other hand. You had lost your appetite the minute you set foot off the court today, but you knew you needed to at least try and get something in your stomach. You had taken a few big bites until the frustration of losing set in.
You let out a defeated sigh, dropping your fork and raising your head from your palm, looking around the cafeteria. It was basically empty except for a few people here and there quietly eating. Your eyes caught sight of two boys sitting by the window table, their seats practically turned to your direction. When their eyes caught yours, they smiled. The one on the right lifted his hand in greeting, his blonde friend quickly following suit.
You gave them a wave, sparing a small smile before your eyes went back to your tray. You figured you weren't going to finish the food, so you quickly grabbed your backpack, throwing it over your shoulder before taking your tray to the bin. At first, you hadn't even noticed the two boys joining you, one on either side as they disposed of their trays as well.
You took a step back, watching as the two turned around, eyes set on you. You spared them another small smile out of kindness before readjusting your bag on your shoulder and making your way to your dorm. You were barely outside until you were stopped by someone shouting your name, turning around to find the same dark-haired boy, his friend soon following.
"We saw you play today," he said once you had stopped walking and they were close enough. "You're really good," the blonde added with a smile. You knew him; you've seen him play and remember your roommate gushing over how cute he was. He was cute. They both were, you thought now that you got a good look at them.
"I lost," you retorted, reminded of the reason for your foul mood a while ago. "Doesn't mean you're not good." You looked up at the boy with the dark hair, trying to see if he was just trying to be funny. He had a small smirk playing on his face, his eyes darting down to your mouth before they met your eyes again.
"Thank you," you said, sparing both of them a look before focusing your eyes back on the dark-haired one. "Do you go here?" you asked. "Uh, no," he said, smile faltering for a split second before pointing his thumb back at his friend, "but he does."
"I know," you smiled, "I've watched a few of his games." Art couldn't help but smile at that, a bashful look on his face. "I'm Patrick, by the way," the other boy said, causing your eyes to shift back to him. You shook his hand. "Do you play, Patrick?" you asked. He nodded, and you nodded along absent-mindedly before sucking air through your teeth. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Patrick. And nice seeing you, Art," you said before adjusting your bag's strap again.
"Are you going to tonight's party?" Art asked and you turned around once again. "Would you like me to go?" you asked. "I'd like to see you again," he replied. "We both would," Patrick added. "You both wanna see me?" you asked as they nodded in unison. You laughed at that, your lips pursing in thought. "Okay, I'll be there," you said before making your way back to your dorm.
✰ ⊹ ˚.
#challengers#challengers x reader#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#art donaldson#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x you#patrick zweig#likedovesinthewindd
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hitting partners | patrick zweig
part one
patrick zweig. even the way his name sat in your mouth annoyed you. everything about him did, from his smug smirk, to his attitude he convinced everyone was charming. everyone but you. you saw right through him. patrick zweig was nothing more than a privileged rich kid who never had to work for anything he got. and even worse, he believed he deserved it.
you on the other hand, devoted every moment of your life, since you were 8 years old, to tennis. you breathed it. you worshipped it, like a god. your family wasn’t wealthy, but they were good enough off to afford a tennis coach for you, and your equipment. but that was it. you sacrificed every birthday, christmas, and any other gift worthy milestone for tennis. and you were good, great even, though still young, and bursting with potential. but you would never be a prodigy. where you lacked natural talent, you made up for in discipline and utter devotion to your craft.
something patrick zweig could never even begin to comprehend. patrick was passionate about tennis for all the wrong reasons. he wanted to be great, the best even. but he had no desire in becoming the best. there was no work ethic, no diligence. potential? sure, tons of it. but no backbone to fulfill it. patrick zweig played tennis like he thought the trophy already had his name engraved into it.
and now? now he was your hitting partner.
you had never spent much time considering a career plan besides tennis. for that reason alone, the idea of college never really excited you. you weren’t interested in playing girls with no chance of going pro. matches that didn’t challenge you felt like a waste of time, and a risk of injury not necessary to take. you wanted to be a tennis player, a professional tennis player. so you started touring as soon as you graduated high school and were eligible.
unfortunately enough for you; that was also patrick’s plan. you first bumped into one another at the Tampa Bay Challenger tournament. it was both of your firsts. you watched the men’s final, zweig vs. tornids, and that was when your annoyance began. you had heard of patrick before then, seen his playstyle, you knew the reputation he held. his nickname of ‘fire’ following him into professional play. but without his ‘ice’ counter part, he played more like an inferno.
throughout the final match, you witnessed him smashing his racket to bits, audible swearing, and a brief verbal altercation with a line judge. none of these things were particularly character damning offenses, but they showed a lack of respect for the game. tennis has always been a clean sport, elegant almost. the behavior and temper of the players directly impacts the scoring of the matches. he was giving points away over anger. anger at himself no less, as he was the one tanking in the final set. you found it embarrassing. you knew you could be a bit of a prude with the seriousness you placed on tennis, and its equally prude rules at times. but it was all you had, all you had ever known. and watching someone as naturally talented as patrick zweig, throw games away got under your skin.
at the after party, later that night, you had the displeasure of meeting mr. zweig. you, the women’s Tampa Bay Challenger champion, and him, the men’s runner up. your managers knew each other, so they insisted you meet. you decided to play nice, as patrick had never done anything to you; his play style just had a way of annoying you. your managers briefly pointed to one another before occupying themselves with a conversation with each other.
“patrick zweig, it’s nice to finally meet you” he said outstretching his hand. “and congratulations” he added, as he nodded to the glass trophy settled atop your manager’s table next to you.
“y/n, yes, we must have just missed each other during juniors” you said as your hand, gently reached out and shook his. the gesture feeling a bit formal, but appreciating it nonetheless. his hand was warm, and much softer than you expected. your fingers ghosted past one another, almost aching not to be separated. before you could start out a lie about how he played well and had an unlucky break in his match, he met your eyes directly and asked
“do you always play so timidly, or was that just today?”
“excuse me?” you blinked at him and cocked your head slightly, thinking he must have misspoken and had a different intention behind the question.
“I mean your play style” he continued with no hesitation. “you looked like an entirely different player for the final set. you looked scared, almost shy. you didnt even really celebrate when you hit the winner” he had looked away from you by now, eyes drifting as if he was replaying your every move from the match in his head.
“do you always play that way?” he finished, eyes finding yours again. when he saw your furrowed brows, and blank eyes staring back at him, something washed over him. maybe it was a hint of regret, sorry for the way his question must have sounded, but you were in no mood to pay that any attention.
“actually patrick” you started, eyes locked on his, practically spitting the words down his throat. “i play to win. which i did. which i usually do” you placed your drink on the table, keeping a cool tone, despite the anger bubbling within you. “maybe if your play style were a bit more adaptive, or you showed any hint of control, you would as well” you retorted with a smug smile fueled by the signs of annoyance, your mention of his loss left all over his expression.
“hm” was all he could muster before he picked up the drink you had placed on the table next to you both. your eyes never parted, as if who ever looked away first was resigning the match. his hand steadily brought the glass to his lips and he took a big sip of whatever it was you were drinking. as he placed the glass back down, he smirked slightly, seeming almost fueled, or intrigued, by this rather polite argument. you broke the silence as you wanted to limit any possibility of him getting the last word.
“i have practice early tomorrow, so i need to get going. im sure you have an off day scheduled tomorrow, so please do enjoy the party.” you turned on your heels, perfume catching the wind and blowing right into patrick’s face. you walked away, swaying, content with how the conversation ended in you favor. a tiny part of you wanted to turn around, wanted to know if he was watching you walk away. the larger part of you, somehow, already knew that he was.
two hours later in your hotel room, showered and tucked away for the night, you brooded over his line of questioning again. how dare he? after everything, after how hard you worked, after securing your first professional tournament win, people like patrick zweig still questioned your skill… scared? shy? you were none of those things. you were a tennis player. the very thing patrick had yet to prove himself to be. yes he was talented, incredibly so. but he played tennis how he wanted to. you played tennis how you needed to.
you stirred, unable to drift asleep, thinking about him. you were hung up on the idea that he was willing to ruin your night, question your skill, despite having more than proved yourself just hours prior. hung up on the way he stared back at you, fire burning in his eyes. god, he was so annoying. somewhere, deep down, you were also hung up on the slight shine of your lipgloss painted across his bottom lip; where he had laid his lips a top the gloss stamp yours left on the rim of your glass.
#guys help is this good#are we intrigued#do we want more#enimes to lovers#my favorite#challengers#patrick zweig#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x you#patrick zweig fic#patrick zweig imagine
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match point, chapter two.
→ introduction one two three
— In which Art and Patrick find themselves intertwined with the relationship of tennis superstar Tashi Duncan and her best friend, Lennon Caddel.
LENNON CADDEL AND TASHI DUNCAN WEREN'T IN LOVE. Contrary to popular belief. Their own parents had sat down both of their daughters and asked them about it. Not that they would tell the truth if they were. They were best friends. That's all. Sure, they kissed sometimes and Tashi had a soft spot only for Lennon and Lennon valued Tashi's opinion more than anybody on the planet. She had dumped plenty of boyfriends at the advice of her best friend; so much so that she just preferred the stay single. She would wait until Tashi found someone that was worthy of her attention. She knew best, after all. Lennon wasn't a pushover, though. She had had to explain that to plenty of friends and boyfriends and even her own parents. She could stand up for herself, really she could. But what is there to stand up for when it comes to Tashi? She did know best. "He's not obsessed with you enough", Tashi would say after hanging out with Lennon and her boy of the month. "You need someone who's going to be so devoted to you that they can't think of anything else." Tashi would take Lennon's face in her hands, press a kiss to her forehead, and hug her tightly. No one was more devoted than Tashi. Their relationship wasn't entirely platonic, they knew that. But it wasn't romantic either. They were so devoted to each other that the line had started to blur.
"They're not coming." Art was staring at the dirty ceiling of his and Patrick's shared hotel room. The party had ended three hours ago, and the time had begun to creep into the early hours of the morning. Patrick was standing, pacing, shuffling a deck of cards.
"They might," he huffed.
"But they're not."
Patrick knew they weren't coming. He knew it was soon as the thought entered his head six hours ago and he knew it before it left Art's mouth three hours later. "That's only because you made it sound like we want to fuck them in here!"
Art rolled over on to his stomach, pressing his head into the hard mattress. He wanted to scream, the sound muffled by the fabric, but he wasn't the dramatic type. He was irritated, obviously. He wanted to see Lennon and Tashi again but Patrick was right. He did make it sound like they wanted to fuck them in the sticky atmosphere of their hotel room.
"Do we not?" He asked, turning his head so Patrick would hear him.
"Well, yes! But that's..." the brunette stopped pacing, turning around so he could make eye contact with Art. "Not tonight. Not in… here. We don't even know them really."
Art rolled over on his side completely, tucking his hands under his head. "That's never stopped you before."
Two floors down, Lennon and Tashi were having a similar conversation. Tashi was standing at the bathroom mirror, moisturizing and brushing her teeth and Lennon was sitting criss cross on their shared king-size bed.
"I'm just saying," Lennon pleads, like she had for the better part of the last two hours, "What's the worst that could happen? If we go over?"
Tashi turns off the bathroom light and joina her friend in bed.
"Uh, they get drunk and try to fuck us?" She answered, brushing a stray hair out of the other girl's face.
Lennon hesitated before answering. "...Would that really be the worst thing?"
Tashi's eyes go wide and she doubles over laughing. This was routine for her. Pretty boys approach her, she entertains them for a while, and then she ghosts. She had enough on her plate. She didn't need boys, girls, or anyone to get in the way of her life, her success, and most importantly her relationship with Lennon.
"I'm serious!" Lennon whines. "I know this happens to you all the time, but this never happens to me! I just..." She sighs and avoids Tashi's gaze.
"You what, Len?" Her eyebrows are furrowed and she grips Lennon's arm, forcing her to look at her. Her grip is strong in comparison to the sticky sweetness dripping from her tone.
"I'm about to be a college freshman," Lennon continues, "and I... I don't have all the experience that you do. I don't want to be the only girl on Stanford's tennis roster that's... you know..."
"A virgin?"
"Yeah."
Tashi sighs and lets her arm go. She considers her options. She could tell Lennon no, that she's not going and she knows Lennon will only go if she goes. Or...
"Get your shoes on, then." Tashi stands, sliding her own shoes onto her already socked feet.
Lennon looks up at her wide eyed, the corners of her mouth twitching into a smile. "Really?"
She receives the smallest smile before being handed her beat up converse. "Really. Let's go before I change my mind."
So she takes out her retainer, pulls on her shoes, and grins.
"How do I look?"
Beautiful. Like always. "Fuckable."
Now it's Lennon's turn to double-over laughing.
#art donaldson smut#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#zendaya#mike faist x reader#mike faist#josh o’connor x reader#josh o’connor#patrick zweig smut#patrick zweig x reader#tashi duncan x reader#tashi duncan#tashi donaldson#challengers x reader#challengers#05162024
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I've been looking everywhere for new challengers content so I'm GLAD you're asking
idk if you just want thoughts or like fic ideas (I have both if you want to let me know) but I'll start with the thoughts cuz I needed to talk about patrick zweig 24/7 sorry
I can't stop thinking about marking him/him marking me LET ME EXPLAIN just in every way possible, hickeys, bite/scratch marks, all kind of bruises (given very lovingly and consensualy ofc)
him being so cocky for basically branding and claiming you BUT being even more proud of the marks on his own body, wearing slightly shorter shorts on the court the next day so it's showing a little etc...
anonnnnn this is too good to be true thank u (college!patrick x college!reader)
you and patrick zweig were not exclusive.
he ran around his tennis court, campus, parties, the city, getting in bed with whichever warm body welcomed him—you never knew him to be picky—and you did similarly, just not nearly as indulgent as he.
but for being just friends who fool around from time to time, patrick was awfully careless. his hands would get greedy and leave lasting bruises on your hip-dips (love handles, as he likes to call them), and his cologne lingered due to his insistence on you wearing his clothes while he fucked you.
all of the tell-tale signs of his familiarity with your body weren’t fooling anybody, but more than anything it was the marks. he loved displaying his whereabouts on your body with his mouth, and there wasn’t much that could top hearing the stutter in your voice when somebody points out the nasty rash on your collarbone. there was not much, but there was something.
the one thing patrick zweig adored more than marking you, was your marking of him. it wasn’t even the product of the love-bites he liked the most, although he was quite fond of those, but it was the feral cloud that overtook you, the heat of the passion getting to you and throwing your caution to the wind. it was the eagerness you had to really fuck him well, the best. making him feel your need and desires and all of your experiences without words through your sex was his favorite part—one of yours, too. and if that meant hurting him (at least a little bit) for him to get the sentiment, you could do that.
and even when he claims you went a little bit overboard, patrick still shows up to practice with you, shorts a little shorter due to what only could have been an intentional scrunching, spreading his heavy legs on his seat with his crotch and inner-thigh hickies exposed.
art shook his head and laughed when he saw them, and the look on your face seeing them, too. all his brunette friend could say in response was “you wish that was you, huh?” nodding down to art’s glares’ subject.
the retort was taken in good jest, but the flush of his friend’s cheeks at the comment made patrick wonder what both you and art would look like with matching stains of skin, whether it be hickies or bruises on love handles. he smiled at the thought, and stood to play.
#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 !#unproofread.. 😴😴#art always finds his way in#kaia writes patrick#challengers#challengers fanfiction#challengers smut#patrick zweig#patrick zweig smut#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig imagine#patrick zweig drabble#josh o’connor smut#josh o'connor#angelnon 🤍#kai's got mail <3📑
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i need to bite patrick's thighs
#patrick zweig#patrick zweig smut#patrick zweig x reader#challengers#challengers movie#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader
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Queen Treatment for
The King
Pairings- Art Donaldson x black!OC, Tashi Duncan x black!OC, Patrick Zweig x black!OC
Summary- moments between Dion King and her best friends that adore her
Warnings- slight smut, implied sexual content, sexual tension...
Jazzie Notes!- It’s me writing at 1am again knowing I have somewhere to be tomorrow:)….. sorry for any typos or mistakes, I don't enjoy reading back my own work and I type like a mad man with dyslexia. Also, sorry if this is bad, I’ve beer written smut or sexual content of any kind. Might but ever do it again honestly.
Word Count- 2,724
Part I , Part III
Dion heard the soft click of her door closing from her bed. She sat on her bed in her dorm, reading away at some old and torn biology book that was needed for a class. She was barely paying attention to the words on the thin paper, chipped corners obscuring some words as she sipped away at the honey tea Art brought her before he left.
She never raised her eyes away from the page before her as a weight was placed near her feet at the end of her bed. She knew who it was by the sound of his feet. There was silence within the room as she continued to sip from her mug and fake-read the large book in her lap, feeling his stare. It wasn’t long before she made it to the bottom of her mug, the sound echoing as she slurped up the thick honey that settled at the bottom. When finished, she sat the empty cup on the nightstand beside her and then finally looked up at the boy in front of her who had his eyes on her the entire time.
“Are you just going to fucking sit there or are you gonna say something?” She asked, not sugarcoating anything. Patrick’s face looked the same way it did yesterday, sadness etched in every crevice that only deepened with her words.
“I just wanted to explain myself.” He said somberly. Dion sighed, slamming the book on her lap closed. She then filed her arms and sat up more against the headboard, crossing her legs. “Go on then.” She said disinterestedly.
And she honestly was. Art had filled her in about the situation that caused the oddness between them all last night after her fashion show ended in him giving her the best head. He was so fucked out afterward that he just started spilling everything without Dion even having to ask. Not that she had to, Art thought she needed to know.
So, she sat there waiting. Either to hear the same information or something new.
“The whole reason Tashi and I have been acting so strange is because we argued.” He said, eyes never moving from her trying to gauge a reaction. “About you.”
“I mean, I figured that much Pat.” Dion rolled her eyes.
“But it wasn’t what you would think it would be about.” He started, angling his body in the girl's bed to face her. He left his shoes in Tashi’s room so she was just in a shirt, shorts, and gray socks. “She was angry because she felt like we were getting too close.” Dion’s brows furrowed deeply, eyes briefly igniting with rage. Seeing this, Patrick was quick to interject. “But not like that. Not like we were falling for one another or that you had a thing for me.” Then Dion went from angry to confused. “She was angry at me because she felt like I was taking you from her.” He stated, seeing the question circulating in her eyes. At that, Dion kind of just stared at him, lost in thought over the whole situation.
Dion’s never had a serious boyfriend since she and Tashi have been friends. She barely even talks to guys anymore, let alone think about that much. She had all she could ask for within Tashi. So much so, that she was a little heartbroken when the girl said she wasn’t looking for anything too serious with her. But she kept on a brave face as stuck it out. And it’s not like Tashi was doing anything with anyone else, so that kept her at ease about the whole situation.
So when they met Art and Patrick, they never would have thought things would end up the way they did. Tashi and Patrick were together but she allowed him and Dion to do things if they wanted, which was rare if she wasn’t involved. She honestly only agreed because she knew she wouldn’t be dropping Dion any time soon. The girl was like a drug to her.
Art and Dion were pretty official, at least to the people around campus, so they did things all the time. They were the same. They had the same favorite color, the same habits, same taste in music and books. They even served sort of similar. Being around him brought a light into her heart that she didn’t know she needed. And Art depended on her presence more than he’d like to admit. Sometimes just spends time in her dorm to live like a married couple. Being around Dion made him almost forget about his jealousy of Tashi and Patrick.
Almost.
But Dion and Patrick, their relationship was more than just physical. He was like a male Tashi. He was confident and sure of himself. She was lewd and loud, Dion found it endearing. He made her laugh. He taught her things no other guy has, he’s shown her this whole other world of being a person and living. He had so much to offer and this was only the beginning.
Maybe that was it.
Tashi felt as if Dion was slipping away from her. If only she knew how unlikely something like that would be.
“This whole situation is so fucking stupid.” Dion huffed, putting her head in her hands. “I mean?” She exasperated, looking back up at him. Patrick just softly nodded his head, still downtrodden from the whole blow-up of events. “Yeah. And the argument only got worse when I said she was being that way because she can’t admit her feelings for you.” He sighed.
“Oh,” Dion said, crossing her arms. “Well, it’s over now. I’ll talk to Tash and things will go back to normal.” She said, with a shrug. She was trying to quickly change the subject to something else so she wouldn’t have to focus on the fact that Tashi was avoiding her feelings in some way. Patrick could tell what she was doing, he just stared at her, admiring her as she thought.
“Do you have feelings for me?” She asked, looking up at the boy. Their eyes instantly met since he was already observing her as she played with the loose thread on her bed sheet. He jerked his head back at her question, caught off guard by her sudden movements and question.
“Jeez, Dion.” The boy groaned, throwing his head back. While she thought he was doing it out of annoyance, Patrick was honestly trying to hold back the boner he was getting just watching her. The sun shone through the blue curtains giving the girl this ethereal glow. The way her lounge-wear shirt fell off her shoulders because of its size. And those shorts she always wore that showed the bottom of her ass cheek just right. She had hundreds of those shirts and they all loved when she wore them.
“What?” Dion asked, shrugging her shoulders. “You’re the one that told me I need to be more forward.”
“That’s not what I mean, King.”
“Just answer the question.” Dion pouted, watching as he tilted his head back down to look at her. Dion always loved his eyes, probably not as much as Art’s since he had heterochromia, but Patrick’s were a close second. The honey brown starts at the rim of his pupil and expands into this beautiful blue. His eyes were always dilated, at least when she looked into them, and she loved seeing that look.
“Of course, Dion.” That was all he said. His eye herb wavering from hers. Dion smiled at his words before standing on her knees and growing closer to the male. She planted herself right next to him, still on her knees with her hands holding her weight as she sat back in her legs.
“That’s good to know.” She smiled at him. Patrick smirked, seeing the mischief swimming in her eyes. His eyes traced her features, her oiled skin, her curly roots peeking from under the towel on her head, the way one of her eyebrows was a little fuller than the other. Her lips looked sticky from the honey she sucked earlier. Everything about her was a sight to see. “Now do you think you deserve your gift?” She asked, using the sickly sweet voice she always did to get her way. The same way she sounded when they first met. Patrick nodded his head, not even giving the question a second thought as she stared the girl in the eyes.
Dion pursed her lips in a tiny pout. “I should make you work for it after being so absent these past few days.” She said, giving the boy a once over. She could see the huge bulge he had in his shorts that he was trying to hide by stuffing his hands into his shirt. Her eyes trailed back up to see his muscles poking through the shirt, the girl getting wet from his figure. “Do you think you should work for it or do you want the gift?” She asked, finally looking him back in the eye. Patrick licked his lips, eyes darting everywhere on his face before answering. “I think I should work for it.” He whispered.
Dion smirked, rising to her knees again. She never took her eyes off of him and Patrick followed hers. She looked down at him as she took the towel off her hair. Some of the parts were a little wet but that didn’t bother either of them, especially at this moment.
Dion then straddled Patrick’s lap, her knees on either side of his. He immediately untucked his hands from his shirt and latched onto her waist. He leaned in, thinking her lips were gonna meet his but she backed away at the last moment. His lips met her jawline with a wet kiss. Dion looked back and leaned in again but pulled the same move, dodging his lips to his net her cheek this time. Patrick whined at the lack of contact after a few more tries while Dion smirked. She did it one last time.
Only this time, Patrick didn’t stop. He trailed wet kisses anywhere he could as his hands squeezed at her torso. Dion sighed out a few airy moans as his kiss ended up behind her ear. Hearing just those sounds made Patrick target that spot, sucking and licking at the spot until he could feel the skin become tender under his tongue.
Unknowingly, his hands traveled down her back and under her big shirt to grab her bottom. His large hands cupping her ass instantly evoked a reaction out of the girl, letting out a loud moan. At that, Patrick groaned into her neck. He backed away from her neck to see her face morph into one of pleasure as he groped her ass. At the loss of contact, Dion looked down at him. “I didn’t say stop, did I?” She asked.
Patrick immediately got back to what he was doing, licking and kissing anywhere he could on her neck, even going down to her chest at one point. Dion was a moaning mess as he continued to okay with her ass cheeks, just the feeling of him so close to her heat made her feral. And one thing about Dion, she was a talker. She also loved herself a talker.
“You’re just so good to me baby.” She sighed into Patrick’s ear as he went to town at the top of her breast, oh so close to popping them out. “You treat me so well.” She moaned. Patrick's hips jolted at her words, loving when she just talked to him. He could cum just listening to her talk. He has once when he heard her talking Art through a climax. At that, Dion moans again, his bulge hitting her covered heat.
She then pulled away and stood up on her knees. Patrick, too engrossed in the feeling of her soft breasts on his tongue, kept licking away as he washed closer and closer to popping them out of her bra. Seeing this, Dion grabbed the back of the brunette’s head and pulled him back. His face was pink, eyes blown and lips plump. Their eyes met.
“You’ll take care of me, right?” She asked, using that sweet voice on him.
Patrick nodded, his hands still on her ass and his hips lightly rutting up against the air. Dion's eyes turned stern and she grabbed the boy by the jaw, making his lips pucker. “Speak.” She demanded.
“Yes.” At that, Dion leaned forward and gave him a wet and sort of sloppy kiss on his pursed lips.
“And you won’t hide things from me anymore?” She asked, tightening her grip on his face just a tad.
“No, never.” The boy panted with a quick shake of his head. Dion gave him another kiss, this one a little longer than the last. She broke away, a thin trail of spit connecting them. “And you know that I’ll always care for you?” She asked. Patrick nodded before he could form a verbal answer. Her words were working him up and he was close to cumming in his shorts. He’s never been this way with any girl but Dion just bought something out of him. She had a way of getting people to do what she wanted.
“Mmh hmm.” Patrick finally said, trying his best to hold back his climax as his hands continued to grip her ass and she continued to moan and speak to him. Dion brought her lips back down to his, barely moving as the boy stretched his neck to meet her in a head kiss. She was practically shoving her tongue down his throat as they kissed, and Patrick loved it. He loved that his rather docile and sweet girl was corrupting him in ways he didn’t know he liked. He didn’t know he needed it. Dion broke away, feeling the boy’s rock-hard bulge on her pussy when he lifted her ass cheeks and slapped them. She let out a loud moan into her mouth, which made him snack it again. Knowing they were close, she broke the kiss. Much to Patrick’s dismay the boy groaned.
“I know you’re close, baby. I know.” The girl cooed in between kisses on his cheek. But I have to give you your gift before we continue. She then got off his lap and turned to the nightstand next to her bed. She pulled open the first drawer and brought out a dark blue velvet box. She sat back down next to him, both of them igniting the huge bulge in his shorts.
Patrick opened the box to see a golden ring in the center of it.
He didn’t say anything as he started at the price of jewelry.
Scared of his reaction, Dion started to ramble. “It’s, uh, a jasper stone or something like that, I don’t know. I just got it because it matched the one Art has and it’s kind of like the whole fire & ice thing. It’s also a pinky ring because I felt like that fit more of your vibe—” The girl's monologue was cut off by Patrick's lips in hers. The male kissed her vigorously, trying to show all his passion and affection through one kiss. He used so much force that Dion fell back into the bed, Patrick not detaching from her as she followed her down.
Breaking away for air, Dion looked up at the boy in front of her.
“So, you like it?” The girl asked out of breath.
“I love it.” Patrick’s said, sincerity laced in his tone. “But I’d love something else a whole lot more right now.” He said, giving the girl a knowing look, his pupils bigger than before. Dion laughed as she rolled her eyes.
“Okay.” Was all she needed to say for Patrick to trail fine her body and place his face between her legs. He said in his stomach and could practically smell her arousal. It was as if they were both animals in heat at this moment. Before he could dive in, even with her shirts still in, Dion spoke.
“Did you cum in your shorts?”
“Yeah, it happened in our last kiss”. Was all the answer he gave before his lips were latching onto her bottom ones poking through her shorts.
Let me know if you guys would like to be in the taglist :)
#challengersmovie#challengers movie#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig#tashi x reader#tashi duncan#tashi donaldson#mike faist#josh o'connor#zendaya
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PATRICK IS A MUNCH. No one can say otherwise to me. Maybe something written about that…?
YUPPPP !!!!! patrick has an unhealthy obsession with having his head buried between your legs every chance he can get and he’s a fucking pro at it. he is obsessed with the way you taste, the way you softly moan his name, the way you aggressively grip his curly hair and the way you shake when he makes you cum for the nth time that night. he devours your pussy as if it’s his last meal, his hands pushing against your inner thighs to get his face as close to your cunt as he possibly can while he sucks on your swollen clit. he moans into your core when you pull his hair, only egging him on more as he fucks you with his tongue and slurps all of your juices while gazing up at you with his pretty eyes. moans and praises leave his lips as saliva runs down his chin. “you taste— fuck, you taste so fucking sweet, baby. could eat you out for hours.”
#♡₊˚ for arina 🍒・₊#anon#patrick zweig#patrick zweig smut#patrick zweig imagine#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig fic#patrick zweig x fem!reader#patrick zweig x you#patrick zweig x female reader#patrick zweig drabble#patrick zweig blurb#patrick zweig prompt#patrick zweig concept#challengers#challengers smut
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All three of their reactions to finding out your ready to sleep with them for the first time🤭🤭
ouu anon i like the way you think🫶🏾 thank you for your request, enjoy!!
Art Donaldson
- he’s been ready but hearing that you’re ready makes him all nervous
- you’ve made out, you’ve given him blowjobs, and he’s touched you under the clothes but there’s never been actual sex
- he’s a mess
- needs to go buy condoms but he’s all nervous n he’s blanking a bit
- remembers that he did buy condoms but shoved them deep in the back of his closet because he felt ashamed that he was jumping the gun
- after he digs it out, his hands are shaking from both desire and nerves
- your first time is very sweet
- he’s not rough at all, he asks you how you’re feeling, if he’s hurting you, if you like what he’s doing
- basically has you set the entire pace, even if he’s losing it because he just wants to do more
- he’s so hesitant to do anything, he doesn’t want to kill your attraction to him or something
- as if that’s possible
- it gets a tiny bit frustrating because it’s not like you know how to make him feel good, you need him to show you
- once he starts to get more comfortable, his restraint starts to disappear
- he’s vocal about how good you make him feel, he’s guiding you to do what he likes, etc
- the night ends with art passed tf out (bro could not handle it) and you knocked out with him (you also could not handle it)
Tashi Duncan
- SHE CHEERED!
- she didn’t want to pressure you or anything so she’s let you set the pace of your relationship
- the touching and kissing here n there that’s never progressed has made her desperate for more
- when you tell her you’re ready to go all the way she’s cheesing
- again, she wants you to set the pace
- first time is very gentle
- she tells you what to do (who said dom tashi!) but it’s all very soft
- think, move like this, let me hear you, don’t close your eyes
- your pleasure is her priority, your first time is basically you get pampered and loved on the whole time
- when you try to reciprocate, shes quick to come, she’s been desperate for your touch the entire time
- she shows you exactly how she likes to be touched so you don’t need to guess anything
- her end goal is to make you feel good and to make it easy for you to make her feel good
- the night ends with you cuddled up in fresh sheets, with freshly washed hair, and feeling extremely content
Patrick Zweig
- HE ALSO CHEERED!
- except literally
- bro is so excited, the making out made him want you more
- he’s had to resort to jerking off because he’d rather die than ask you to do something you might be uncomfy with
- he already had everything ready, he was just waiting for you to feel ready
- he opens the bottom drawer and boom, condoms n lube stocked up
- your first round is short, someone (patrick) was a little excited
- you end up going at it for a few hours
- it gets more enjoyable as you go but patrick also gets more desperate as you go
- his hungry kisses turn sloppy, his steady rhythm turns desperate, he can’t form words
- bro genuinely is a mess with you, all of his pent up sexual tension is coming out at once and he’s barely handling it
- he knows what he’s doing so you don’t feel like you’re trying to figure him out
- he’s guiding you to do what makes him feel good
- you don’t need to guide him or anything because he’s doing everything at the same time
- literally makes you feel crazy, it can’t be normal to feel everything this deeply
- the night ends with you cuddling in bed with a show on
- except neither of you are really paying attention because you keep making out
the way you can tell who i was most excited to write forjshehd, i love you patrick zweig
#challengers#challengers fic#challengers imagine#challengers headcanon#challengers drabble#art donaldson#tashi duncan#patrick zweig#art donaldson x reader#tashi duncan x reader#patrick zweig x reader#artydonsgf
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drunk reader; drunk and sad girl trope; reader is taken advantage of (but consensually?); DARK(er) CONTENT AHEAD
MDNI 18+
w/ ART DONALDSON & PATRICK ZWEIG
your date had gone poorly. it was obvious over the phone when you called art, begging him to come pick you up through sniffles and harsh dismissals of "i'm fine". you only managed to get art off of the phone by telling him that you were running out of minutes, but he was at the restaurant not long after, pulling up with patrick in the passenger seat.
and they wouldn't leave you alone. they wouldn't turn the radio up and drown out your sniffles and poorly masked sobs with music. patrick kept turning around to look at you and art kept sneaking glances in the rear view mirror. they were worried sick, so it was only natural that they began damage control when they got to your place.
patrick on alcohol duty. art on therapist duty.
patrick peddled drink after drink into your hand at your request with no concern for how much you were drinking. he only began to care when your words slurred, only then did he take the drinks out of your hand and put them out of reach, downing a few himself or passing them to art.
you weren't drunk, that's what he kept telling himself as he let his eyes roam over your body, eyesight dipping to get a glimpse of your cleavage when you would lean over to try to reach for another drink. when he let his hand fall to your thigh, it was to tether you back to here, keeping you from spiraling into your recollection of how bad the date went. that's all.
meanwhile, art was hearing you out. his features softened into an understanding pout while he listened to you detail every single thing about the date. the people sitting around you, the menu options, the horrible jokes your date made.
he sat there wondering how you could go out with a guy like that. wondering why you were even excited to see the guy in the first place because no matter how often you repeat yourself, claiming you didn't even want that guy that much anyway, art knows.
he remembers how giddily you called him earlier in the afternoon, ready to turn down his suggestions to hang out because you were busy. you had a date, and you said it like it was the best thing to ever happen to you. he can't help but feel a little glad that your date went wrong, especially when you bury your head in his neck and let him caress your back while you cry off even more of your makeup.
you're so soft. so warm. so pliant from the mix of alcohol, sadness, and comfortability in this moment.
earlier that afternoon, when the call to art became a three way call with patrick, there was a joke made. a sly, "if you come home drunk and sad we're gonna take advantage of you" from patrick's lips.
you rolled your eyes at the time, scoffing and exclaiming, "gross!" at your friend's obscenity. art had acted on your defense, chastising patrick while trying to clear the image out of his head.
and patrick was quick to apologize, assuring that he didn't mean it. "it's a joke!" said over and over again above the sound of your rejection and art's protection meddling together.
and it had been a joke at the time. they would never do that to you. but there's something here, some vibe that's unexplainable through the maze of hormones running throughout all of you. for some reason, when you lift your head from art's neck, wipe under your eyes, and look between art and patrick, they consider it.
they only take a moment to think about it when you tell them, "take advantage of me," the words spoken clearly. meticulously. soberly.
so they do.
they don’t have to kiss you stupid. you’re already dumbed down when art presses his lips to yours. it doesn’t take any coaxing at all for you to part your legs for patrick.
they’ve never seen you this compliant. after being used to your eye rolls and jokes at their expense, they started to figure that’s what you would be like in bed. patrick believed you would be bossy, telling him what to do. art didn’t mind the thought, not when patrick painted a picture for him. but art likes how he’s able to tell you what to do.
he likes that when he tells you to lift your hands above your head, you do. he likes that you lay back when he tells you to. he likes that you wrap your lips around his cock when he presents it in front of your face.
it’s nearly impossible to tell that you had even been saving yourself for another man when they have you like this. when you’re on your hands and knees, taking patrick from the back and art from the front, it’s absurd to even believe that you wanted to fuck a completely different man tonight.
they’re making you feel good. they’re making you feel better than your lousy date could’ve ever dreamed of. they’re fucking the thoughts out of your mind, replacing the horrors of your night with something pleasurable. something to make it all worth it.
because if you hadn’t gone out tonight, you never would’ve met the guy who made you cry. if you hadn’t dolled yourself up earlier, your efforts never would’ve looked prettier coming off of you than it did going on you.
it’s all a beautiful display of the butterfly effect. not that any of you are thinking about that while you’re drunkenly slobbering on arts dick with lazy eyes, attempting to fuck yourself back onto patrick all the while.
#inspo from scandal thank u shonda rhimes#patricksworld!#artsworld!#art donaldson x reader#patrick zweig x reader#celeste writes challengers
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