#and so. the best way to get to know someone is to ask them who they play-
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Art brings Patrick along to celebrate your entry winning! He also shows off your side-project of collecting intimates, Patrick wants in.
cw; threesomesss! m-recieving oral, spitroasting, consensual voyeurism, more talk of tennis and a man who is not named mary...
Art Donaldson x Patrick Zweig x fem!reader | The Rule of Thirds masterlist | talk to me!
“You aren’t even playing tennis in it.”
Patrick Zweig, who really does hate formal attire, tilts his head at the print framed in front of him. The glass of sparkling in his hand doesn’t do much to unlock his creative interpretation. To him, it’s a photo of his best friend smiling like a dork with a racket in hand.
Art jabs him in the ribs. “It’s the afterglow,” he parrots, a weird knowing smile pulling at his lips. “You’re just jealous that I won.”
Patrick snorts and leans into Art. “You didn’t. She did.”
The two of them glance around the venue, a makeshift gallery to display the submissions for the face of sport competition . People crowd the place, pointing at prints and talking between themselves about angles and lighting and composition and everything under the sun that isn’t sport. All of the pictures are the same, though: a close up of a sports player as they train. Their face sweaty and angry as they hit a ball or cross a finish line or do a fucking pirouette.
The boys step out of the way to let an older married couple in front of them look at the winning photo. The husband looks puzzled, glancing from the first-day-of-school-esque photo of Art to a photo of a swimmer diving into the water.
“This is the winner?” the husband asks his wife.
The wife, who is sneaking a few pictures on her phone, laughs and says, “Jeff, honey, you just don’t understand art.”
Patrick snorts at that and looks at his Art, one he also doesn’t fully understand. Art rolls his eyes and steps away, motioning for Patrick to follow. The two fall in step with each other, voices low as they walk through the gallery.
“So,” Patrick dips his head down a little as he speaks, a dutiful whisper. “Are you two dating or what? Have you fucked her yet?”
Art stops abruptly, his shoes squeak against the linoleum flooring, karma for wearing sneakers to an event where champagne is served and people say things like ‘what a peculiar angle’. He looks at Patrick with something in his eyes, and the brunette has to take a moment to try and decode his best friend's silent story.
“Ohh,” he grins after a moment. “She fucked you.”
Art clicks his teeth, he wants to object but he ultimately can’t. “She takes photos.”
“What?”
“Polaroids.”
“Of you fucking?”
“Yes, Patrick, not so loud.”
Patrick’s grin is glued to his face. It’s less amused and moreso smug now, maybe a little excited. There's a moment shared between the two before Patrick chimes in again, a tinge of worry lacing his tone. "And you know she's not going to send them anywhere?"
Art shakes his head. "She lets me keep them."
"Holy shit," Patrick laughs, "I have to see these."
Art scoffs and pulls Patrick along. They continue walking through the exhibition halls, occasionally stopping to look at different prints on display but quickly growing bored of the monotony of each shot. Patrick starts to realise, after the sixth shot of a tennis player hitting a ball, that you were right in catching something different. The pair turn a corner and find themselves in a secluded hall of past entries that no one cares to gawk over a second time; Patrick takes his chance and grabs Art by the arm.
"Come on," his voice is low, and he glances through the empty hallway to make sure he hadn't missed someone standing within earshot. “Let me see.”
There’s a pause, and then Art shakes his head. “No way, my eyes only.”
Patrick grins, “what’s so bad about them? She gets you to dress up in a maid's dress and serve her on your knees?”
Patrick entertains the thought for a moment, and then sees the danger in doing so and shakes his head. “I’m joking, Art. If you don’t want me to see, don’t show me.”
Another pause, Patrick knows Art like he knows himself, even more so maybe. Art wants to share, he wants to gloat about the endeavours he’s been having behind a closed door: he's a man for attention just like Patrick is, it’s what makes them such a good team, everyone’s eyes are always on them. They hold eye contact for what feels like a moment too long, and Art finally lets his lips flip into a grin.
“And how would Tashi feel about me showing you these?”
Patrick shrugs. “You know Tashi, she’s not the jealous type,” he puts on a high pitched voice, despite Tashi having the complete opposite, and points a finger in the air to quote her. “I dont care what you do or who you fuck, Patrick, as long as you play a good fucking game of tennis afterwards.”
Monogamy, not a given in the world of competition, unsurprisingly. Art stands still, hands by his side as he squints his eyes at Patrick. He’s always been able to call bullshit on him, and Art must trust his intuition on this one because he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. He pulls two polaroids out of the back slot and pockets one of them, not comfortable with sharing such an intimate photo of yourself with express permission. The other one, the one you had taken your first time together, gets slipped into Patricks awaiting palm.
And he has no telling face as he looks at it, studies it. In the photo, Art Donaldson, his best friend since twelve, is laying on his back, expression lost in a mixture of bliss and overwhelming desire. Sweat sticks to his skin, sticks his hair to his forehead. His face is blushed red and his eyes are blown wide open, pupils expanded as if he were looking at God herself; perhaps he was. His mouth is parted lightly, lips glistening with what could be spit or... and Patrick is hard.
“Introduce me,” Patrick deadpans. “I’ll never ask you for anything ever again. I’ll give you so much money. I’ll quit tennis.”
Art grins. “You are a fucking liar.”
“Yeah, one with taste and a semi.”
Art hits Patrick in the arm, but ultimately folds. “Fine, but only because she wants to meet you.”
“I could suck your dick right now.” Patrick takes another hit to the arm, this one harder than the last. He moves to rub the spot where pain still lingers, but stops in his movements when a thought crosses his mind. “So you’ve told her about me, huh?”
Art rolls his eyes and plucks the polaroid from Patricks hand. He looks at the picture for a moment.
“Oh he won't shut up about you," a voice sounds from behind the pair. Both boys jump at the sudden presence and spin to face you, smiling laudingly at the pair- a gold medal with a camera engraved into the front hangs from your neck. Your gaze flits between them, and Patrick is suddenly struck by all the times he’d seen you around before. Though he's not often on campus, only when his schedule opens and visits are worth making, he's turned his head as you've walked past before, he knows it.
Art clears his throat and turns to face you properly, placing the hand with the polaroid behind his back. "This is Patrick," he gestures at Patrick while maintaining eye contact with you. You nod, and then look towards the brunette. Your name falls on attentive ears, Patrick rolls it on his tongue for good measure and decides he likes the taste of it. He introduces himself in turn with an extended hand to shake and his signature smile.
"It's good to meet you," you hum as you shake his hand, though your head nods to Art's hidden hand. "I do autograph my originals, if you want."
Art's face falls slightly, caught in the act. Patrick smiles and nods, to which Art mutters an embarrassed apology. Your eyes soften, and the corners of your mouth tug upwards in response. You hold your hand out, and Art sheepishly places the polaroid in your hand. You turn the polaroid around and examine it for a few moments before plucking a permanent marker from your pocket and writing something on the back of it. You waft it through the air a few times to allow for the ink to dry, and then grin at Art as you hand the polaroid instead to Patrick.
Patrick takes it with a dumbfounded half-smile, his eyes darting from you to Art and then back to you and down to the writing you've left behind--- THE ART OF MAKING LOVE, it reads, and Patrick snorts at the pun. Your smile widens slightly.
“Very nice.” Patrick comments softly, holding the polaroid between his fingertips and glancing down to it pointedly.
"I know," you reply simply. "Thank you for coming, by the way, both of you. I would have skipped it myself if I didn't win."
Art chuckles. "It was our pleasure, this place is nice."
You laugh in response and Patrick thinks he's heard heaven's bells. "Some lady asked if I'd read the part about the entry having to be sports-related."
Patrick pushes in before Art can speak. "Ah, don't listen to them," he takes a step forward and glances down to the polaroid still between his fingers, you don’t know if he’s talking about the photo he’s holding, or the winning entry. "I think you really captured the... afterglow."
If Art could roll his eyes completely into the back of his head he would, he can't hold his laughter in at Patricks attempt to sound like he knows the first thing about photography, and your laughter sings out too, picking up on the parroting of your own words to Art. The sound echoes across the empty hallway, bouncing off the walls and filling the space like music.
"Patrick doesn't know what he's talking about," Art runs a hand through his own hair, eyes settling on you in a dorky grin you've grown to adore.
"I'm better in front of the camera than behind it," Patrick offers.
Silence meets his words as you look between the boys, committing both of their features to memory. You imagine, only for a moment, getting them both in front of your lens. The imagined sight is enough to press an offer to your lips. Patrick and Art stand in silence, staring at you as you watch them.
"I already got my medal" you toy with the award around your neck. You tilt your head to the side, "wanna get out of here?"
"Yes," said in eager unison by the best friends, fire and ice.
You smirk, turn on your heels and lead the way down the hall. Patrick and Art fall in step behind you, Patrick still holding your polaroid between his fingers-- Art plucks it from him in a quick movement and pockets it. Patrick, in childish turn, shoves Art against the corridor wall. He hits a framed photo of an elderly woman with a feeding tube in her nose, titled 'the woes of age', and it crashes to the floor with a loud clatter. The frame's glass shatters across the floor, and you whip your head around to find Patrick and Art both staring wide-eyed back at you.
"What was that?" A voice from the main gallery calls out, thudding footsteps follow.
And you stifle a laugh, looking down at the broken frame of a probably now-dead elderly woman's portrait, then up to your two accomplices. Art and Patrick look between each other, a silent agreement between them. All of a sudden, they're sprinting past you, and both grabbing a hand of yours to pull you down the corridor.
Your shrieks of laughter fill the space between you. You run faster than you've ever ran before, your heart pounding in your chest and blood rushing through your veins; it's exhilarating, it's terrifying, you're alive.
SIX YEARS LATER
A burly old man with tattoos from head to toe stands behind the counter at MARY'S PAWN SHOP— YOUR TRADE, YOUR TREASURES. Patrick Zweig walks in with two tennis bags slumped over his shoulders, looks at the balding man with ‘leisure’ tattooed under his eye and smiles, “I’ll take it you aren’t Mary.”
"No," says the man of few words.
Patrick raises his eyebrows and exhales, his social battery already malfunctioning. He walks to the counter and sets each tennis bag down atop it with a padded thud. "There's uh, there's rackets, wristbands, a pair of shoes- I think, a few balls. All in good condition, nothing cheap, nothing dirty..."
The man nods, still silent, and begins looking through the tennis bags. He pulls a racket out to check it for wear and tear, and then another, glossing his eyes over and finding no damage. He checks the shoes for dirt and scratches, the balls for wear, and once he's happy with the quality of the first bag's contents, he moves onto the second. He unzips the side pocket with a short tug to reveal something other than tennis equipment— a polaroid.
It only takes a glance at the photo from the stocky man before he's slamming it face down on the counter. "Fucking Christ, kid. Check your shit before you pawn it off."
Patrick looks puzzled, "what?" he slides the polaroid towards himself and flips it up to look at it— his lips twitch. "Oh."
"Yeah 'oh'," the man scoffs in reply.
Patrick stares down at a photo he hasn't seen in years, and while red tinges his face as he stands in Mary's Pawn Shop, it's nothing compared to his flushed red look of desperation in the polaroid. There he sits, with Art Donaldson sitting behind him pressing wet kisses to his neck, hands splayed over Patrick’s bare chest. His legs are spread, the photo is taken from between them— at the bottom of the frame his cock sits rock hard and at rapt attention, your manicured fingers wrapped around his length: he can even see the glisten of precum beading at his tip.
"Jesus," Patrick exhales shakily, quickly pocketing the polaroid and only barely managing eye contact with the clerk. "That's, uh..."
"I don't care," he snaps a finger to the store's entrance. "Out."
"Wait," Patrick scrambles to show him that the rest of the bag is indeed only full of tennis gear. "Seriously, please, I need the money," his tone softens, but is still pleading. "Look, I'm a tennis player, Patrick Zweig, if you plaster my name on the sale I'm sure you'll get more sales. Can you just—"
"I just got a faceful of your cock, Patrick Zweig," the old man barks. "Get the fuck out."
Patrick lets out an exasperated sigh and zips up his tennis bags, slinging one strap across his shoulder and taking the other by the handle. He turns and walks gingerly out of the store, a 'please come again soon!' sign hangs awkwardly from the door he walks through, and rattles when he slams it shut behind him.
The trek to his car is an embarrassing one, the old tattooed man's eyes still burning into him as he unlocks the trunk and throws his tennis bags in. The moment he's situated in the driver's seat, he's turning out of the street and praying silently to god that he gets hit by lightning or something to that extent. He's been doing that a lot lately.
Once he's reached his apartment, Patrick's mind is reeling, and every thought has to do with you. He leaves his stuff behind in the car, mind too occupied to care about bringing them in.
His front door creaks when he pushes it open and slams it shut behind him, he's walking straight to his laptop, which sits at the counter because he hasn't had the time nor funds to buy a table, and opens up the screen. Your name is tapped into the search browser in seconds, his index finger clicks the enter button and Patrick Zweig holds his breath as the search results load. There's a funny feeling in his chest, a deep sense of anticipation that makes him feel almost giddy.
The page loads a display of your photography but no display of you. Patrick scrolls further down, scanning through articles about your photographs and a few links to reviews of your work. Nothing. His fingertips drum against the keyboard as he tries another search— your personal website.
There you are. A photo of you behind a camera headlines the page, and below are examples of your work. They're mostly photos of people, some of them are tame and shot against the sun in fields canvased with colour, others are sultry black-and-white boudoir style photos, though each subject has the same look on their face that you've been chasing since the day he met you. Patrick takes the polaroid from his pocket and sits it against the screen, as if on display with the rest of your shots, and he can't help but smile. It's very you.
BOOK A SHOOT! — GET IN CONTACT is written in bold towards the bottom of the page next to an email and a phone number.
Patrick Zweig knows he isn't the best person to grace this earth. He knows he has a habit of placing himself in the arms of people that would be better off without bearing his weight. He knows his voice can be a jarring one— so he skips past your number and starts typing an email instead. Because he’s trying to be thoughtful, you can delete an email, but also because he’s a few minutes away from stroking his cock to that polaroid of yours until his wrist hurts and he’s cumming dry and you’d certainly hear the building desperation in his voice.
Your email goes in first, and then a subject line— he flips the polaroid over and smiles at the smudged writing on the back, and then gets to typing:
‘Zweig, your plus one.’
SIX YEARS EARLIER
“So what am I here?” Patrick takes a drag of his cigarette, leans back against the tree he sits under and blows his smoke into the air. “A third wheel?”
You laugh, so does Art, who is sitting across from him on the grass, beside you with an arm around your shoulder. He has a cigarette in hand that he offers you every now and then, but you’re busy feeding new instant film into your polaroid. Though your head is down as you work, you reply with a sweetness to your tone nonetheless.
“No,” you laugh. “More like a plus one.”
Patrick raises his eyebrows and looks from you to Art, something in his eyes that only his best friend could read. Art shrugs, a playful smile pulling at his lips as he mouths 'told you.' Before Patrick can ask what exactly what you mean by that, he sees you lift the polaroid in front of your face and snap a picture, the flash sending Patricks eyes wide in the otherwise dim night. When you lower the camera from your nose he finds you grinning at him like you've just won the lottery, and he laughs low in his throat.
The polaroid prints from the camera, and you waft it in the air a little to let it develop before looking down at it. "You looked good," you hum, and give Patrick the opportunity to lean forward and take a look for himself. He does so immediately, his elbows resting on his knees as he leans forward and angles his head. He sees himself, cigarette in hand and smoke blowing softly from his lips as he sits.
He takes another toke of his cigarette and then taps it out into the ashtray beside him. He nods at you, catches your gaze, "do you play tennis?"
You laugh, a genuine laugh that rings in Patricks ears. Art laughs too, and nudges you with his arm. "She's a natural."
Patrick can tell Art is lying, because he can always tell. A grin pulls at his lips as you shake your head and cover your face with your hands for dramatic effect and dissolve into your laughter once more. Art nudges you again, and you push his arm away gently, but there's no malice in your movements, "I'm about half as useful with a racket as I would be if I was blind. I'll leave the big leagues to you two... you're playing professionally right?"
Patrick nods, and spends a fair few minutes going into depth about the world of pro tennis. You listen tentatively, nodding along to his words and asking questions when you aren't sure of something. Art chimes in too, at some point, and the conversation shifts from pro tennis to all types of stories from the boys' years of playing together. It all feels so familiar, and yet so foreign. Patrick can't remember the last time he's talked about tennis with someone that isn't aching to get pointers from him, or lecture him on how to improve. You just listen, and you throw in your own stories of childhood sports leagues and extracurriculars here and there, and Patricks not quite sure how but by the time the conversation wraps up, the three of you are sitting an awful lot closer than you were when you'd first found the secluded spot on campus.
"How long are you visiting for?" You tilt your head as you look at Patrick- your legs are draped over Art's lap, though you have a hand on his knee.
"A few more days," Patrick nods, looking from you to Art who has a sly grin plastered on his face, "what?"
Art shrugs nonchalantly, leaning slightly forward as he rubs a hand over your legs. “Patrick is staying in my dorm,” he looks to you, something knowing in his eyes. “I forgot to tell him I wouldn’t be there tonight.”
Patrick looks between you and Art.
“Oh but your doors locked,” you sound genuinely concerned as you turn to Patrick and ask, “do you have a spare key?”
Arts door isn’t locked— he always forgets to lock it. Even at boarding school Patrick would chide his inability to remember to lock their room up when they left, they’d always fall victim to someone coming in to steal a racket or swap out their pillows for the less comfortable ones that would circulate the dorm.
“I don’t have a spare key,” Patrick lets your hand crawl a little further over his thigh. A glance to Art offers him an equally hungry look, a heat, a taste for more than that night in the hotel with…
Should he tell you about Tashi? He knows she’s unbothered by his endeavours as long as his performance doesn’t slip for it, but some draw a line at sharing. He looks between you and Art, takes in the burning from the both of you and almost laughs, something tells him sharing isn't off the cards for you.
“You said earlier that you’re better in front of the camera than behind it,” your voice is soft, sultry, it sends a twang of something needy through Patricks spine. “You wanna take some pictures, Zweig?”
It’s all a rush, from his acceptance to the trip to your dorm room, a haze of hushed laughter and lingering touches he can’t tell who from. He wants to put on a face for you, woo you like he does every other girl he’s slept with. But with Art it’s easy, they're best friends… soulmates. They’ve kissed before, they've seen the most intimate parts of each other— in a way, Art's presence settles his nerves with you.
The second your dorm room door clicks shut, Art’s lips are against Patrick's and he’s guiding him to the edge of your bed in a mess of sloppy implacable kisses, his slender hands run through Patrick's curls, tug at the base of his scalp in a newfound dominance Patrick was unsure Art had in him. This is the second time they've made out, if you don't count the time when they were thirteen and practised on each other for their first girlfriends… which neither of them will admit ever happened.
The back of Patrick's legs hit the edge of your bed and at the same time, Art's tongue slips dutifully into his mouth and slides over the expanse of his teeth. He tastes like cigarettes and chapstick, which Patrick assumes is yours because it tastes like cherries and everything else narcotic, in this sense he kisses you also. There's a heat licking at the pit of his stomach and it spreads like wildfire through his chest and down his arms. Tugging at the hem of Arts shirt, he gets his point across and is able to lift it and run his fingertips over his abdomen as Art removes it completely. Patrick follows suit shortly after, grabbing his own shirt by the collar and lifting it over his head: it's tossed to the side despite its price. His jeans soon follow.
For a moment, it's just the two of them, all clothes bar their boxers discarded to the floor and hands exploring bare skin. The warmth of Art's fingers digging into his chest, his ribs, his hips, the hard planes of his body, their bodies pressed together as if to become one. Their lips connect again, hungrily, their teeth knocking together with every brush of tongues. Patrick takes Art's lower lip between his teeth and bites hard enough to elicit a choked groan from the back of Art's throat.
They part, and are given only half a moment to mourn the loss of each other's touch before their kiss-swollen lips upturn into grins, and a gentle laughter is shared between them. Art's smile is wide, and he turns his head from Patrick to you, sitting at your desk writing on the back of the polaroid you had taken outside.
"Busy over there?" Art teases, smiling as you turn to look at them.
"Just letting you have your moment," you hum complaisantly, then lift your camera up to take a quick photo of the pair, hot and flushed and still panting slightly, "just let me know when you two feel like being productive with yourselves…"
Your tone trails off, and then you're standing quickly, grabbing your camera as you saunter over to the boys, who part from each other to glue their eyes onto you. You survey the scene, their tousled hair and matching vibrant pink cheeks. Patrick’s boxers are a light blue, Art’s are black, and you like the contrast of colour but decide they should exit the scene completely.
You run a nail down Art’s chest, watching as his shoulders roll back as you flick over one of his nipples and continue down to the waistband of his boxers. You pull the elastic towards you, and then let it snap back against his skin. He hisses at the contact, plasters a dramatic frown across his lips as you smile in turn and nod to the bed, though not before tugging down at his boxers just enough to expose the trail of light brown hair leading to his hardened cock— a suggestion if nothing else: take them off.
Art obliges, sparing only a glance to Patrick before tugging his boxers down and kicking them to the side. You steal a good look at his cock, licking your lips at the sight of his growing hard-on. He catches your gaze and gives you a sly smile before climbing onto your bed and sitting back.
You’re quick to guide Patrick into position as well, taking him by the wrist and giving him a pointed look when he uses his free hand to caress the curve of your ass. He’s a lot more assertive than Art, lets his hands roam when Arts would stay clasped behind his back. You like it, you like the contrast, and you like the thought of having Art take control of his ministries for once.
You pull Patrick to stand in front of where Art sits and then, with a cheeky lopsided smile, you push him backwards and watch as he falls to sit just in front of where Art is settled. You take a step back and watch as Art moves forward, hand on Patrick’s shoulder, and sets his gaze on you.
“Direct away,” he rests his chin on Patrick’s shoulder, and the pair watch as you ready your camera.
“You’re good like this, actually,” you hum, looking between the boys. Rather than snap a photo, though, you reach back out and lift Patrick’s chin up to offer him your gaze. Your fingers trace the expanse of his jaw, up to his cheek before returning to his cocky smile. You slip two fingers into his mouth, his lips closing around them without guidance nor hesitation. His tongue lays flat against your digits as he sucks, hollowing out his cheeks, eyes boring into yours.
When you pull your fingers from his mouth his arrogant smile returns ten-fold. You’re pressing your lips against his in only a second, rolling your tongue into his mouth in an attempt to shut him up despite not a word falling from his lips. He brings a hand up to cup the side of your face, an attempt at dominance despite quite literally being the one stretching his back to keep his lips against yours.
His hand travels to the nape of your neck, tugging you forward until you practically fall into him, your legs giving way as you drop to your knees against the cold hardwood floors. You find purchase by splaying your fingers over his thick thighs, his lips still locked with yours in a frenzy of tongues and teeth and shared oxygen. It's an unspoken battle for the upper hand, something you never had to wager with Art, who's happy to melt under your touch until the sun rises. You take your turn by slipping one hand past the waistband of his baby blue boxers and palming his rock hard erection; a harsh intake of breath from Patrick allows you to pull your lips from his and gaze up at him with the most innocent expression you could muster.
"Can I suck your dick now or are you going to keep me waiting? I'm kinda starving."
A breathless chuckle escapes your lips as Patrick stares at you with heated eyes and opens his mouth to reply but no sound comes out. The words die on the tip of his tongue and he closes it quickly before swallowing audibly and looking between you and Art, who has pulled himself up just enough to get a look at you from over his best friends shoulder. When Patrick's eyes lock onto yours again, his grin widens even further and he leans back against Art's chest, looking down at you through lidded eyes and nodding eagerly.
You waste no time on lingering touches and feather-light strokes. Your free hand is tugging Patrick's boxers down, with his help as he lifts his hips to allow you to do so, and with your other one you're squeezing his shaft, moving your hand up and down in deliberate strokes that send his mind into overdrive. Once he's biting his own lip, you wrap your around his glistening tip and swirl your tongue around the head of his cock before sucking him deeply into your mouth.
A gasp from Patrick, quickly muffled by the turn of his head and Art stretching his neck to meet his best friend in a ravenous kiss. You flatten your tongue against Patrick's length, take a moment to hum contently and listen to his hitching breath at the vibrations you offer him, and then start bobbing your head rhythmically. You cup his balls with one hand, offer him gentle squeezes in tandem with the movement of your tongue, and rub grounding circles into his thigh with your other hand. Your cheeks hollowed out, you suck Patrick Zweig's pulsing cock until he deems himself desperate enough to start bucking his hips upward into your mouth. You know he'd hold your head in place and throat-fuck you until you'd lose your voice if he had you alone, but Art's doing well in distracting him with his tongue, his lips and his hands.
It's when Patrick breaks the kiss to look down at you, eyes glossed with a yearning lust, that you know he's close. Breathing laboured, fingers digging into the edge of your mattress, hips snapping upwards for any chance at fucking deeper into your throat. His desperation only doubles when Art starts nibbling at his ear, then kissing down the stretch of his neck, hands feeling up his chest.
You know he’s close, walking on the fence of a ruined orgasm and a zenith climax that would taste better than it feels, though you place your hunger aside to do what you do best— take the shot. You pull your lips from Patrick’s cock with a pop, and replace your mouth with your right hand, wrapping your fingers around his length and stroking him just enough to keep him on that edge.
You reach over his trembling thighs, grab your camera and line up the shot. Art’s mess of blonde hair is a contrast to Patrick’s darkened look as he works bruises into his neck, fingers splayed over his chest. Patricks face, the look of looming bliss melted over his features, and the tension in his corded muscles as he opens his mouth to beg for sweet release. You make sure his pulsing cock is in frame, too, held in reverence by your own hand. The flash momentarily brightens the room, illuminates the scene at hand but only for a second before the Polaroid prints your photo and you pluck it with the hand that had held Patrick's cock on the edge of orgasm.
He whines as you smile up at him, nearly moving to stroke himself to completion but stopping in favour of starting an argument.
"What the fuck?" He has to swallow twice to keep his drool from spilling out of his mouth. "That's unfair, fucking-"
You press a kiss to Patrick's knee and then stand, stepping back once and placing your finger against your lips in a gesture of silence.
He watches, his brows furrowed as you turn on your heel and wander back to your desk. You don't bother to look over your shoulder as you pick up a permanent marker and start writing on the back of your developing Polaroid.
'ZWEIG, OUR PLUS O—'
A pair of arms around your torso pull you backwards, and you smudge the last few letters with your thumb as the man behind you pulls it from your grasp and smacks it face-down against your desk. You can feel his erection pressing against your clothed ass, his sweaty chest against your back and his hot breath against your ear as he speaks, low and sinful.
"I don't know if you've noticed," Patrick Zweig bites. "But I don't get off on being used like a toy. I'm not Art."
You turn your head in the direction of his voice, let his breath fan your cheek; you smell cigarettes and remnants of Art's chewing gum. "I know you're not," you coo, pressing your ass back against his painfully hard length. "Art made me cum twice before I ever got on my knees for him. You're selfish."
"Damn right I am," Patrick breathes, tightening his grip around your torso and near-dragging you back to the bed. "Always have been, too."
You're walked to the bed where Art waits, arms crossed over his chest as he watches you get manhandled into position. He'd offer you a hand, a way out, if you weren't smiling so wide, giggling beneath your breath as Patrick pushes between your shoulder blades and bends you over the edge of your own mattress. You catch yourself with your hands on Art's knees, face dangerously close to his now rock-hard cock as Patrick uses both hands to pull your bottoms and panties off in one go. His eyes linger on your exposed cunt as he slips two fingers through your folds, grinning- "fucking soaked, huh?"
"Fuck yes," you breathe. You think he's going to stretch you out on his fingers and you're about to object, tell him you don't need it, when you hear a condom packaging rip open and the tip of his cock presses against your entrance. You can only gasp in response.
"Tell me yes, say you want it," Patrick breathes.
"Fuck me, Zweig."
You make eye contact with Art as Patrick slowly presses into you, using your own wetness as lube. Art watches you with sinful eyes, something deep inside of him like watching you fall apart under his best friend's touch, but you refuse to reduce him to a cuck. You let Art lift your chin just enough to press a tender kiss against your lips as Patrick starts to thrust into you, slowly increasing his pace as he feels you adjust more and more to his size. You love the taste of Art's kisses, the gentle way his lips take yours, but you're hungry for more of him, so you pull away and try not to focus on those sad eyes of his.
As Patrick snaps his hips into yours and bottoms out inside of you, you lean down and take Art as deep into your mouth as you can manage. As soon as Art finds your rhythm, his eyes flutter closed and a sigh leaves his lips. His hand finds its way to the back of your head, and he holds you there, rocking his hips into your mouth as Patrick tries to match his rhythm. You move in tandem with the ministrations of your boys, with each thrust of Patrick's hips, you're choking further on Art's cock. And with each snap of Art's hips, you're pushed backwards onto Patrick's length, and each time he manages to fill you just that little bit deeper.
"That's it," Patrick's voice is breathy. "Good fucking girl, taking us so well, like you were fucking made for it, huh?"
With each movement, every moan from either boys' lips, you're pushed closer towards the edge of a new level of pleasure, and you can feel warmth beginning to gather in the pit of your stomach. Your fingers dig into the sheets, holding onto them tight and keeping you anchored as you push against Patrick's cock harder, faster... fucking yourself on him in the spirit of competition. You're full to the brim, lips wrapped around Art's cock as you work him close to the edge, eyes looking up at him through your lashes to find a face so fucking pretty you forget to even think of taking a picture. Not that you could even if you wanted to, with his cock embedded in your throat and your arms the only things keeping you up.
The pressure in your stomach, the searing stretch of Patrick's cock makes you wonder if you're a masochist at heart, because you never want that dull pain to end. His moans fall from his lips and permeate the air, a symphony of wants and needs, and you think you could get lost in it forever.
"Oh Jesus Christ," Patrick groans, voice cracking as he nears climax. Art's hips start to shake, his thrust into your mouth becoming erratic and harsh and so much better than it should be when you can feel sweat dripping into your hairline, the sting of tears forming in your eyes as Patrick pounds into you. It takes everything in you not to come undone as his hips jerk forward. It feels too good, too good to last, and you're seconds away when you feel Patrick fucking Zweig reach an arm around your waist to rub fast circles against your clit, less selfish than he proclaims to be.
The three of you cum in perfect unison, your bodies wracked with tremors of a shared climax unlike any you've had before. Patrick presses as deep into you as he can, near-kissing your cervix in instinctual desperation to fill you up despite his condom. Art shoots right into your mouth, pulling back a little so his load lands on your tongue as well, offering you a taste of his lust, one you take happily. Though you're unable to keep it all in your mouth as he pulls out and allows you space to take a breath as you come down from your high. His seed glistens on your lips as Patrick pulls out of you and lets you turn onto your back and lay on your bed, panting heavily as the haze of ecstasy starts to fade.
Art soon joins you, laying down beside you in a dizzy haze of exertion. When you turn your head to look at him, he's already smiling at you, and reaches a hand out to swipe his thumb against your lips, gathering his own cum and pushing it back into your mouth. You bite his thumb with a playful grin and Art laughs in response, the moment between you sweet until the flash of your own instant camera dazes the both of you into silence.
You sit up on your elbows, looking towards Patrick Zweig, who stands with your camera in one hand and a freshly developed photo in the other. He flicks it a few times, unaware of how to speed up the development process, then looks at it as if he's analysing each aspect of his shot. After another beat, he turns the print around to let the both of you see, and grins proudly at his work. The photo is a sweet one, your teeth bared around Art's thumb, the calm after such a storm of pleasure.
"Turns out, I'm great at both sides of this thing," Patrick holds your camera up in show and smiles cheekily, to which you roll your eyes. Though you can't help the laughter that rumbles from your lungs when Patrick flops down onto the mattress, making both you and Art move over to make room for him. Art follows suit, laughter spilling from his throat in harmony, and it spreads quickly to Patrick.
Once the air is silent, Art turns his head to greet the both of you. With a smile, something simple falls from his lips— "dinner?"
You hum in response, nodding your head as your mouth starts to water, though Patrick clears his throat.
"Yeah," he sits upright and looks between you before grabbing at one of your thighs and pulling you closer to him, his head dips to the juncture of your neck and shoulder and he speaks simply against your skin. "I'm not done with either of you yet."
taglist;
@lotties-ashwagandha @daughterhouse @kiiwizz @doll-0f-flesh @jackierose902109 @lonnie2390147 @hedonisticwomen @ysuftmikey @viena-vie @whitewashedghanianlol @kolsmikaelson @nikirikii @dumbass-sappho-stan @seriousaliysa @majathepapaya @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @lovezclub @s-u-t @sceletaflores @24kmar - cont. in comments!
#art donaldson smut#patrick zweig smut#challengers 2024#art donaldson x reader#patrick zweig x reader#challengers smut#art donaldson#art x reader#art smut#art donaldson x you#art donaldson imagine#patrick zweig x you#patrick zweig imagine#patrick zweig x art donaldson#art x patrick
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How about some jealous headcannons for jiyan, calcaro and scar? Do they even get jealous at all? I just think about how I would flirt with them all, Rover is stronger than me. Anyway, have a lovely day ❣️
✧˖° when they're jealous. | jiyan, calcharo, and scar headcanons.
⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ synopsis: jealousy, jealousy...or whatever that oliva rodrigo song is. what's it like when these wuwa men are feeling a bit jealous?
⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ characters involved (separate): jiyan, calcharo, scar, and gender neutral reader.
⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ warnings: none!
⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ notes: hi sweet anon!! thank you for requesting! hope you enjoy these jealousy hcs, i hope i did you justice since i'm not a very jealous person myself > <;;!! requests are open, and all nsfw asks can be sent to @jiayouqi!
ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ jiyan ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅
the general of the midnight rangers is a pretty tough guy; he understands that you’re a sight for sore eyes, so of course people are going to look at you.
i don’t imagine him getting very jealous, he knows that you can handle your own and trusts that you wouldn’t flirt back with any of the people that try to hit on you.
but, if someone’s flirting with you for longer than a few minutes, or you’re looking uncomfortable, he’s quick to stir into action.
after all, you’re his partner, no one gets to flirt with or dote on you except him.
will smoothly slip a hand around your waist, give a quick glance at whoever’s hitting on you, and usually one look is enough to drive anyone away since he’s in a position of power in jinzhou.
if for some reason they’re stupid enough to fight back on him, that’s when he’s quick to snap back, mentioning how you’re his beloved and to back off.
jiyan will always turn to you and ask if you’re okay after anyone flirts with you, wanting to make sure you’re not uncomfortable.
he’s kind of like a dragon in that sense, guarding his lovely treasure with a level of protectiveness.
he sometimes gets jealous also when you’re gone for long period of time or vice versa, because he loves spending quality time with you and being unable to do so makes him jealous of those who can spend more time with you.
after he’s done being jealous, the feelings subside quickly and he quietly will hold your hand for a while, as if to let people know to back off.
overall jealousy score: 4/10, not easy to stir to jealousy but will be protective and stand up for you if you need him to. knows you can handle your own and that you’re strong enough to deal with the situation.
ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ scar ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅
very vocal about when he’s jealous, the opposite of jiyan.
“BABEEEEE come on pay attention to me please please please,” puppy vibes
he loves having your attention, so when you’re getting flirted with or your attention is elsewhere, he gets very pouty very fast.
you’re meant to only have eyes on him! how can you be talking to someone else?
“love why were you talking with them and not me? :c” “scar that was a child-”
if someone has the guts to flirt with you while he’s around, he’s there in a flash and stands behind you protectively like a bodyguard.
very confrontational. he’ll tell them that you’re taken and that you have the best boyfriend in the world so he suggests they piss off.
will not hesitate to get physical and fight someone if it means protecting you and getting someone to lay off the flirting.
the only way his jealousy will subside is if you give him the attention he wants or tell him to stop getting upset before anything escalates.
he’ll immediately comply, even if he’s resistant or grumbling about it.
scar just wants to make sure no one else makes a move on his beloved, and even the simple idea of someone taking you away is enough to make him see red.
gets clingy when he’s jealous too, always wants to reassure himself that you’re his and his for life.
overall jealousy score: 10/10, it doesn’t take much to rile him up, and he gets very snappy when anyone even dares to look in your direction. you’re his and his only. some kisses and sweet words of affirmation will calm him down fast though.
ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ calcharo ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅
in the middle of the pack when it comes to being jealous.
the main reason he gets jealous is because of possessiveness, but he’s almost never vocal about it. a silent guardian of you.
he can control his temper well, but his whole aura changes when someone even gets close to you, and it’s enough for most people to turn away from even flirting with you.
however, one touch from someone other than him and he’s ticked.
quickly grabs their wrist with a strong grip and gives them a deadly look.
“leave.”
his voice is deep and drips of venom, and if looks could kill, they’d be dead in an instant.
afterwards, he silently will just give you a nod and the two of you will go back to whatever you were doing.
he gets on the defensive though after someone flirts with you once during an outing, and he’s almost hyper aware of everything going on around him now.
is also the type of person where, if someone’s persistent with their flirting with you, or if you tell him that you’re uncomfortable with the other person, he’ll simply nod his head in acknowledgement.
the next day, they’re either dead or seriously injured, and it’s the talk of the town; you know he was the cause of it.
he won’t mention anything about it unless you say something, and if you do, he’ll huff.
“no one makes my lover uncomfortable.”
overall jealousy score: 7/10, not very vocal about it and is level headed, but if someone dares to try and flirt with you, he’ll turn the scene dark fast.
#wuwa#wuthering waves#wuwa headcanons#wuthering waves headcanons#jiyan#calcharo#scar#wuwa jiyan#wuwa calcharo#wuwa scar#wuthering waves x reader#wuthering waves jiyan#wuthering waves calcharo#wuthering waves scar#wuthering waves jiyan x reader#wuthering waves calcharo x reader#wuthering waves scar x reader#wuthering waves jiyan headcanons#wuthering waves calcharo headcanons#wuthering waves scar headcanons#jiyan x reader#calcharo x reader#scar x reader#wuwa scar x reader#wuwa jiyan x reader#wuwa calcharo x reader
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@thelightofmylife wouldn’t it be funny if I decided to reread your entire HSR writing list again (I in fact did)… lolol <3 I’m still thinking about your response to me btw. You’re very kind 💖💞💗 truly I can’t get enough of your writing and I suppose kind words
No pressure to do this request if you don’t want to, you can also take this ask as an invitation to chat too
( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ
ahh! I was thinking ,,,, Sunday + Aventurine + Jing Yuan… and anyone else you would personally want to do …!! Giving them headpats because you love them soooo much!!! And receiving or asking for headpats in trade … <3 i think it’s a universal thing that headpats are <33 so good and lovely and good for showing love ;w;’ <3
Jing Yuan will gladly accept your head pats, he finds your beaming face adorable as you gently patted his head as though you were being extremely cautious with how you gave him head pats.
He recognises it as your primary display of love after awhile and would create a routine where he would just sit himself in front of you, claim that he was meditating, and closes his eyes and waits until he felt you begin to pat him on the head and mutter ‘soft floofy hair’ under your breath as he fights back the urge to smile.
You really do want his heart and he didn’t want to go back to a reality where he did not know the power of your comforting head pats.
Someone could’ve been looking for him about something serious and when they’ve enter the room, they are greeted to the sight of him him dozing off all the while getting treated to some well deserved head pats from you.
A bird popped out of his hair once during a headpat session and you were scared off of giving him head pats for a while in fear of having another tiny bird fly out from his hair. Jing Yuan was a sad man that day and would stop fucking pouting until Yanquing asked you to put him out of his misery and give Jing Yuan his head pats, he couldn’t train with a moody general who didn’t get his daily head pats.
Jing Yuan wasn’t afraid of giving out headpats of his own. He gave Yanquing a couple in the past but he used them sparingly. You however, you could have as many headpats as you’d like from him and Jing Yuan wouldn’t complain, especially not as he got the chance to watch you melt under his touch to the point you were practically cuddled into his side with a look of pure content written across your face.
So if he were to see that you weren’t having the best of days he’d immediately start giving you headpats in hopes of making you feel better. Jing Yuan’s logic was that seeing as how your headpats always helped make his day just that little bit brighter. Jing Yuan could only hope that he could pay it forward to you in a way that let you know that he would always have your back, always.
Aventurine leans into your hand as you give him head pats and closing his eyes as he enjoyed any amount of affection you decided to give him.
He needed this, he really did.
At first he was afraid of what the implication meant but now, he would practically sprawl himself across your lap and silently wait until you were done with what you were doing to give him some head pats, whining that you don’t pay enough attention to him.
He wasn’t use to such gentle, loving touch such as yours and now that he’s gotten a taste, he’s become addicted and would always find a way to get you to give him head pats no matter what. He would ask but Aventurine felt as though he was only worth them when he’s done something to earn such affection.
He viewed everything as a transaction and your headpats were no different.
Until you told him one day that he didn’t have to ever ask to receive love and affection, at least not with you and that you would gladly give him headpats just for waking up.
Aventurine cried that night in your arms as you gave him soft, comforting headpats.
Now aventurine demands headpats for practically everything but you didn’t mind as you were more than happy to spend hours on end if it meant spending time with your lover and reassuring him of your love for him. It heals apart of him that he didn’t know needed healing before, you heal him with your unwavering kindness and compassion and he didn’t know how the appropriate way to thank you, other then to give you some headpats himself.
Aventurine’s headpats were soft, gentle, Alamo as though he was scared he was going to hurt you but they were reassuring and encouraging at the same time that made you feel as though you could move mountains.
His headpats were like a silent ‘I love you’ for a singular reason.
He would pat your head three times and linger there for a couple of seconds then patting your head three more times before repeating this a couple more times, even going as far as to adding in a couple of kisses to your face in between. He loved hearing you laugh but he loved it when you shown signs of being comfortable, being safe with him as that was all he wants was to make you feel safe and happy with him because that’s how you made him feel on a daily basis.
Sunday finds your need to give him head pats amusing and will gladly let you do so to your hearts content if it brings you so much joy.
It doesn’t matter if he was busy because Sunday will always make room for you and you head pats no matter what, and will stress the importance to his staff that a specific time slot remains reserved for you and only you because your head pats were pure magic to the Halovian.
His wings would flutter softly and in time with your head pats that you couldn’t help but giggle at how cute the sight was as Sunday tries to get them to stop, but ultimately just accepts that his wings had a mind of their own when it came to you and how reciprocal they were to your touch.
He defiantly needs them after a hard days work and will most defiantly collapse on your lap, wings drooping like a pair of dog ears in tandem to express his exhaustion, and sigh as he felt you begin to softly pat his head.
‘You’ve done amazing today honey.’ You tell him.
‘Thank you my dearest but all I want to do now is relax with you if that’s quite alright with you.’ Sunday said tired and you couldn’t deny him when he was like this, and for the rest of the afternoon you spent cuddled up with Sunday and giving him head pats as his wings tried to match with the pace of your pats.
Sunday does reward you with headpats of your own but they may not come as frequently as you might like but you understood that he was a busy man, when you do get your headpats its mainly when you were on the brink of falling asleep, so often times it felt like a dream. Sunday wishes he could give you as many headpats as you’d like but giving you them while you were half asleep was for the best.
Bonus: when he’s cuddling you from behind, his wings will try and give you headpats but end up hitting the sides of your face, so somethings you’d wake up to a pair of soft grey wings softly smacking you first thing in the morning.
#hsr imagines#hsr imagine#hsr x reader#hsr jing yuan x reader#hsr aventurine x reader#hsr sunday x reader#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#Honkai star rail imagines#Honkai star rail imagine#sunday x reader#sunday imagines#sunday imagine#aventurine x reader#aventurine imagine#aventurine imagines#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan imagine#jing yuan imagines
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City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 14
masterpost
“You always make the best waffles Hood,” Steph said as she stuffed another syrupy piece into her mouth. She carefully kept her attention on Jay and Cass and not on Danny, who still seemed to be mostly hiding under his mop of black hair at the other side of the table.
“Don’t lie to me,” Jay said. “I know what diner you go to every chance that you get to have waffles. You love those more than mine.”
“No,” Steph whined, looking longingly at the waffle Jay was taking out of the iron right then. “That’s like asking someone to pick between apples and oranges! Or at least oranges and clementines! Diner waffles are working with a whole different set up then your waffles. Those are my favorite diner waffles but yours are my favorite at home waffles. Different things Hood, different things.”
Jay rolled his eyes and handled over the waffle.
Steph took it triumphantly and shot Danny a wink as he covered up his laughter.
“That’s your last one for right now,” Jay said with a pointed jab of his finger. “Danny gets the next one then Cass and then I get to eat some of the damn waffles I’m busy making.”
“Yes, Boss,” Steph chirped and gave a salute with her fork. “How are you liking them, Danny?”
Danny ducked his head back down again, but at least he answered, which was more then Steph had gotten so far. “They’re good. I like them with the fruit.”
“Yeah, that’s the big bad red wolf here trying to get us to be a little more healthy,” Steph said.
“Doesn’t work,” Cass said with that pleased little smile of hers. Steph always loved that smile.
“It sometimes works,” Steph corrected, even if Cass gave a little snort at that.
“They’re good. I missed fresh fruit,” Danny said as he carefully speared another blueberry on top of a precisely cut piece of waffle.
Hell, that made her want to go out and buy Danny a fruit basket. Maybe she would next time she came over. She needed to start earning some points with Danny and he deserved good things.
“Well, luckily Hood will keep you well in stock,” Steph said, making sure her voice stayed cheerful.
“Sure will,” Jason said. “And you can help yourself to the fruit that will be on the counter any time. Your stomach should be good enough now that you can eat pretty freely, just make sure to check with yourself if you’re full before getting seconds or something.”
“Look at Mama Red Hen, in his element,” Steph teased and reached out to catch the piece of fruit she knew would be tossed her way at that statement.
“It’s nice,” Danny mumbled down towards his plate. “Nice to have someone… looking out for things.”
Steph just about melted. “Yeah, it is. You can come to any of us for stuff too. Hood is a real mother hen and Nightwing is pure big sibling energy, but like, O is the best if you need finding things and Red is scarily good at puzzling out a problem. B.B. gives good cuddles and Signal is great when things get too crazy! Robin really protective but not nearly as much as the big Bat himself and Agent A always has what you need.”
Danny looked up at her from under his bangs, blue eyes wide.
“Have we given you a phone yet?” she continued, not knowing what to do with a young Bruce being able to give such good puppy dog eyes. “We need to get you a phone with all our numbers. I’ll have Red get on it, or O. Is O better?”
“Depends on the phone,” Cass pointed out.
Steph nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll ask the group chat I guess what we need for Danny.”
“I don’t, you… Red already gave me a tablet to use.”
“Have to look after you,” Cass explained in that gentle way of hers.
Danny’s gaze darted from Steph to Cass and over to Jason. When that look landed on Jason, it turned to worry in a way that confused Steph. Weren’t they supposed to be reassuring Danny of his continued place with them so that he would talk to the old man?
Jason set another waffle on Danny’s plate. “Told you it wouldn’t change anything.”
“They know?” Danny asked, his voice a rough whisper.
“Yeah, sorry,” Jason said. “With you bleeding like that I needed to explain things to them, not that I know that much. We haven’t exactly gotten back to that talk and there’s no rush to. The point of all this, kid, is that you’ve got us now. Whatever happens, you’ve got us and we’re going to make sure you can always get a hold of us.”
“But you don’t know,” Danny whispered. His grip on his fork was so tight that his knuckles were white and trembling.
Danny flinched when Cass reached out and touched his hand, but he let her unwind his grip from the fork and look the skin over for damage. When she found none, she wrapped it up in her own.
“Look, Danny,” Steph said. “We’re like the worst trio for this. You need like, Nightwing and Signal and O here for that reassuring ‘we’ve got your back’ sorta talk.”
Jason snorted and Steph flapped a hand at him.
“But the thing is,” she continued, “is that the Bats of Gotham have claimed you as theirs now and that means they protect you and care about you. It’s okay whatever we don’t know cause trust me, we have all fucked up pretty big at times, but we’re still Bats and everyone still has our backs. So, I get that we might have some convos ahead of us that are scary for you, talking sucks, but that’s not going to change shit.”
“But you’re, aren’t you…. I’ve read about you on the tablet. Lots think Bruce Wayne funds you. What if he tells me to get out?”
Jason scoffed loudly. “Yeah, no, he doesn’t control us like that.”
“He is nice,” Cass said, “bad at emotions, but nice. He will like you too.”
Danny rubbed his free hand over his eyes. “How can you know?”
“Because you are you,” Cass said simply. From here it sounded like an iron clad fact.
Danny just sniffled.
“Come on, waffles before they get cold,” Jason ordered.
Steph figured maybe they should talk about things more, but they really weren’t the group to do talking, at least not about anything important. She’d let Dick know Danny needed the reassurance though for when he came to the apartment. Even as good as Dick was at playing big brother, Steph didn’t really think that Danny would feel alright until he met Bruce. Somehow, they’d have to convince him that it was time.
---
AN: And we are back by vote with the first part of the next chapter! Sorry for the long delay, but life really was kicking me while I was down. And now I have a cold(?) so you know, expect typos. But Steph finally makes a showing! That means the horde of bat siblings have all met Danny. I wonder what's coming up next...?
Stay delightful, darlings!
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Trapped (Art Donaldson/Patrick Zweig)
Description: Y/N is in love with Patrick but when she thinks that he doesn’t like her back she starts hooking up with Art who is in love with. When Patrick tells Art he likes Y/N without knowing Art and her were hooking up, Art will stop at nothing to make sure they don’t end up together.
Word Count: 3,859k
Author’s note: I didn’t put the warnings because it would be a spoiler. Also I still can’t comment anything on my own posts but I appreciate all the compliments! Thank you sm!! I don’t know why I can’t comment
When Y/N first met Art Donaldson she didn’t think anything of him. He was a well known Tennis player at Stanford and was on his way to becoming big. Art was nice and caring. But Y/N had her eyes on his best friend Patrick Zweig. Patrick was a bit of a player but had her heart. He constantly flirts with her but never makes an actual move. Resulting in Y/N and Art hooking up. Art was attractive Y/N never thought otherwise and when she realized that Patrick probably wasn’t into her she fell into the arms of Art.
Someone who was into her. But it was just sex. Great sex but still sex. After they had sex Y/N would get up and leave his dorm while Art stared at the door praying that Y/N would come to her senses and realize that he was the one for her. Y/N was his best friend besides Patrick and she never mistreated him and almost gave him everything he wanted. But yet he was ungrateful. Anytime he saw Patrick and her talking and laughing he was scared that Patrick would make the ultimate move on her that would end whatever they had going on.
Y/N was at all of his games alongside Patrick cheering him on. When he won (which was almost every time) she would give him the best blowjob of his life. “So are you and Y/N…” Patrick trailed off as him and Art ate lunch together. Art looked at him and laughed. “Why? You finally into her or something?” God he hoped not. Patrick shrugged and it took everything in Art not to drop his smile. “I feel like I should have made a move on her a long time ago.” He said, Art nodded. “Yeah she’s an amazing girl.” Art said.
“Do you think she’s still into me?” Art looked at him and shrugged. “She never talks about you.” That was a lie. Y/N constantly talked about him. To her understanding there are no feelings between her and Art. “Well I guess there’s only one way to tell.” “What are you going to do?” “Talk to her later you dumbass.” Art hummed and felt sick. He almost had everything and Patrick was going to ruin it.
Y/N gave Art a key to her room. He had a few hoodies there that she had taken from him that he told her he wanted back. She found it odd since he never cared before but gave him the key. As he entered the room he took in the scent. He loved the smell, it reminded him of her. He wasn’t sure where the hoodies were so he went over to her dresser. That’s when he saw her birth control.
He stared at it for a good few minutes before he thought about it. If he gets her pregnant she can’t go be with Patrick. She’d have to stay with him. But that was wrong and he knew it. He grabbed the pills and put them in his Tennis bag. He found the hoodies and left her room, guilt consuming him. “So we are going to have to be extra careful when we fuck because I can’t find my birth control pills and I don’t have time to get a refill so buy some condoms.” She told him as they walked back to her dorm. “Got it.” He said. “Well I guess I’ll see ya tomorrow.” She said and he nodded.
The next night they fucked for the first time without her being on the pill and to make matters worse Art poked a hole in the condom before she got there. He prayed that this worked. After he came he pulled out and quickly threw away the condom. “Art why does it feel like you came in me?” She asked. He looked at her confused. She reached her fingers down and gasped as she felt his cum leak out of her. “Art holy shit.” She sat up quick. “I don’t understand. I wore a condom.” He said. “It must have broke without either of us noticing.” She said and went to his bathroom to clean herself up.
The next few weeks Art made sure not to do that for a while so it wasn’t so obvious what he was trying to do. One day Y/N didn’t show up to his game or class. He was concerned and went to check up on her. She was sick. She had been puking all morning and felt terrible. “I think maybe I’m just ill.” She said but how? Y/N was very healthy and never got sick. “I’ll take you to the doctors, come on.” Art was keeping Patrick updated on the situation. Patrick really wanted to talk to her but she was so busy. “Well Ms.Y/L/N you’re pregnant.” The doctor told her. Her jaw dropped and she felt tears in her eyes. She nodded and left the room to go find Art who was waiting in the waiting room.
He stood up as he saw her, “Are you okay?” She shook her head and started crying. He hugged her as she cried. “What’s wrong?” He asked. She pulled away from the hug and sighed, “I’m pregnant.” She whispered. He wanted to celebrate but knew that this wasn’t something planned by the both of them. “What?” He asked softly. She nodded. “And it’s yours.” He gave her a soft smile, “wow.” “Art we aren’t fit to be parents, we aren't even together.” She said.
“We could be.” He said and she shook her head. “We just fuck and I like Patrick.” That annoyed him but he kept it together. “Patrick doesn’t feel the same way Y/N plus you deserve better.” He told her. “How do you know?” She asked him, “He told me.” “No how do you know what I deserve?” He was speechless. He wanted to tell her that he loved her but wasn’t sure that was the right answer. “Can you just take me back?” She asked after silence. He nodded and they left.
It was a few weeks before Art heard from her. She cried and sobbed for weeks not knowing what to do. Art felt terrible for what he did but he could never tell her. Patrick was upset that she was pregnant and it was by his best friend but he didn’t find that out from Art. He knocked on Y/N’s door worried about why he hadn’t seen her in a while. She answered the door and she looked like a mess. “Holy shit are you okay?” He asked her. She shook her head and let him in. “What happened?” He asked as he shut the door.
She sat on the bed and cried. He sat on the bed with her and pulled her into his chest letting her cry. He rubbed her back and tried calming her down. “Patrick I love you so much.” She said through tears. His eyes widened and he looked down at her. “I know you don’t feel the same way but I needed you to know that.” She said. He smiled and laughed, “are you kidding me? Of course I feel the same way.” Her heart broke. “I’ve been meaning to tell you for awhile now.” He said and cupped her face.
At any other time she would have been so happy and smiled but she didn’t. He leaned down to kiss her but before he could she whispered his name. “I’m pregnant with Art’s baby.” He pulled away and looked shocked. “You and Art had sex?” He asked hurt. “We’ve been hooking up for awhile now but only because I didn’t think you liked me back and he confirmed that to me.” She said. “Y/N Art told me you didn’t have feelings for me.” They both look at each other and realized. Art was a shitty friend.
Y/N banged on Art’s door. He quickly got up and opened the door. There stood a fuming Y/N who had tears streaming down her face. “Hey where have you-“ She smacked him across the face. “You asshole.” She yelled. He was taken back by her sudden anger towards him. “You told both me and Patrick that we didn’t like each other when we did.” She yelled. “You talked to Patrick?” He asked annoyed.
“Is that all you heard? How about the fact that you’re a shitty friend?” She screamed. He looked down at her words, she was right. “Why the fuck would you lie?” She asked. He didn’t say anything and kept looking down. She pulled his chin so that they were making eye contact. “Answer me.” She yelled. “Because I love you!” He yelled back. “And I want to be with you but you want him and he doesn’t deserve you.” He yelled.
“Art, it’s not your place to say whether or not he deserves me.” She tells him. “I know but I can’t, I can’t live without you Y/N. When you told me you were pregnant I was so happy because I thought that finally we could have a shot but no matter what I see now that you will always choose him.” He had tears streaming down his face. Her eyes softened. “Art.” She whispered and walked over to him. “I get it just go be with you him. Just let me see the kid.” He said. She shook her head and cupped his face. “No.” She whispered. She leaned in and kissed him. He was shocked but kissed her back. He pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. This was all he ever wanted and he got it.
Y/N finished her first years of college before dropping out. Art stayed in college and managed to become a pro in Tennis. They got a house together near campus so he could still go while she stayed at home. He worried for her and never wanted to leave her alone. Patrick and him were no longer friends. Art got Tashi Duncan as his coach who also helped Y/N. She never judged Y/N for getting pregnant at 19 unlike her family. She made it so Art could continue school and not have to worry.
Y/N was about ready to pop any second it seemed. Her due date was near so she and Art got everything ready for when the time was to come. It would be in the middle of the night that Y/N woke up screaming in pain. Art freaked out but took her to the hospital and called Tashi. Tashi was there at the hospital as Y/N got ready to push. Art held her hand as she screamed and cried as she pushed out his baby for dear life. Art looked as he heard the baby cry and saw her. He started crying seeing his beautiful baby girl. Tashi smiled as she saw the baby and congratulated the two.
Playing Tennis and raising a baby was hard but they managed to do it. They both always talked about how she was gonna love Tennis and want to play. She looked just like Art but was a mommy’s girl.
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” “Yes Babe Tashi is with her, she'll be fine.” Art assured her. She smiled as they walked down the beach that her Art and Patrick used to walk down all those years ago. Their daughter was almost 2 now and everything was perfect. Well almost. Art had a ring in his pocket that he kept playing with out of nerves. “Are you okay?” Y/N asked him as she noticed how nervous he looked. He smiled and shook his head, “I’m perfect.” She smiled but Art stopped walking.
Y/N turned to him confused. “Y/N, I love you so much more than anything on this planet. I couldn’t imagine a life without you or Y/D/N.” He got down on one knee. Y/N covered her mouth with her hand as tears formed in her eyes. “Will you marry me?” He asked. She nodded and smiled, “Yes Art.” She said and pulled him up for a kiss. He smiled into the kiss and pulled away to put the ring on her finger.
The wedding wasn’t anything crazy just a simple one with close friends and family. Their daughter was the flower girl and Tashi was her maid of honor. Y/N sighed as she stood staring in the mirror as she got her wedding dress on. She looked beautiful. “Are you nervous?” Tashi asked. Y/N looked at her and shook her head, “Nope. I’m so excited and happy.” She said and it was the truth.
She knew that her and Art were meant to be. She had no fear or cold feet. Art stood in the mirror at the same time as her except he was nervous. Y/N hadn’t seen him without his curls as he just got his haircut today. He tried to push in the back of his head what he did years ago. He sighed and stepped away from the mirror.
Y/N’s father walked her down the aisle. She sighed and looked around at everyone in the chairs staring at her, some in awe. She looked at Art and gasped. He cut his hair. He looked really good. They smiled at each other and what felt like eternity she was finally down the aisle. She faced Art and they both stared at each other in awe. I like your hair, she mouthed to him.
He smiled and thanked her as the priest talked. The phrase “you may now kiss the bride.” Couldn’t come fast enough but when it did. They both laughed in relief and kissed. They sealed their love with a kiss and the crowd cheered.
Art wasn’t at his best and Tashi couldn’t stop giving him shit for it. She had put him in a challenger claiming that he needed his confidence back. “She says I’m not confident enough.” Art told his wife as they got in bed. She turned to him, “Is she wrong?” He shook his head, “I don’t know.” “From what I know you’re one of the best.” She said and winked at him. He laughed and pulled her on top of him. She leaned down and kissed him.
“Patrick Zweig is here?” He asked in anger. Tashi nodded and looked over at Y/N who didn’t look upset at all. “Yes but you can beat him.” Tashi told him. Could he though? Y/N never was sure about that but maybe all this anger he had towards Patrick would help or would it distract him?
“I feel like she planned this.” Art said as they walked into the hotel. “Doubt it babe it’s just coincidence.” She said. It was also a coincidence that Patrick was at the same hotel at the bar. Luckily Art didn’t notice but Y/N did. “I’ll meet you back in the room I’m going to meet up with Tashi.” She told him. He kissed her and entered the elevator. Patrick didn’t see her but she walked up to him. “Patrick?” He turned around and his jaw dropped.
“Y/N.” He exclaimed and hugged her, she giggled and hugged him back. “You look amazing.” He told her. “You do too.” He did oh god he did. He looked sexy. They stared at each other for a while, no words exchanged. Patrick saw the wedding ring on her finger. “So you married him?” He asked trying to hide the disappointment. She nodded, “yeah I did.” “How’s he doing?” “Good.” He nodded. “I don’t have a lot of time Pat but I just wanted to say Hi.”
“I’m glad you did.” She walked away but he called her name again. She turned to face him, “Do you ever think about what would have happened if you never got pregnant?” She didn’t answer him she just looked down. “Goodnight Patrick.” She said and walked away.
She stared at the ceiling wide awake as Art slept next to her. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Patrick. His question. Of course she thought about it. How could she not? It was sick to say but that was the only reason she gave Art a chance. She doesn’t regret it though but of course the what if? Crossed her mind.
She cheered as Art won over and over again leading up to the finales. Tashi may have been hard on him but it paid off. Y/N hadn’t seen Patrick since that night. She wondered how he was doing, she never got to ask. She didn’t tell Art that she saw him let alone talked to him. That would make him more mad than he already was. It was the final game before the finals. It looked like him and Patrick would be facing off.
“Hey Art forgot his bag can you go grab it for him?” Tashi asked. She nodded and walked off to the locker room. She went to his locker and grabbed the bag. She smiled as she saw it was the one from college. She swung it over her shoulder but heard what sounded like pills? She put the bag down and looked in the bag for what that noise could possible be. She shuffled the bag again and opened the front pocket. She pulled out pills. She was confused until she realized that they were birth control pills. WTF? She thought.
She gasped when she realized that they were the ones she lost. Why did Art have them? She never took them around him. She shook her head and put them in her pocket and took the bag to Art. “Hey I’ll be right back.” She tells him and she walks away. She takes the pills out of her pocket trying to figure out why he had them. She sat on the grass and thought really hard. She gasped as she remembered how Art hated the fact that she and Patrick liked each other. He lied to both of them about the other's feelings.
Y/N remembered the time he asked for her keys and after that day she couldn’t find the pills. Art took them. She felt sick as she realized. Tears were streaming down her face as she realized that Art planned her getting pregnant. She got up and put the pills back in her pocket. “Hey.” She looked up and saw Patrick. “Hi.” He could see her teary eyes and walked up to her. “Are you okay?” He asked her. “Can you pick me up at midnight?” She ignored his question. “Sure…but are you okay?” He asked her, “we will talk about it.” She tells him and walks away.
Art had won and was in the finals with Patrick. She hide her sickness towards him and congratulated him. Art hadn’t suspected a thing thankfully.
“Promise me that if I lose tomorrow it won’t matter.” Art stood in the bathroom doorway. She looked at him confused. “What?” “If I lose tomorrow, promise me that it’ll be okay. We will be okay.” She stared at him, “Why wouldn’t be?” “Baby please.” “Yes Art everything will be okay. I don’t care what the outcome is tomorrow I will love you no matter what.” She tells him and unfortunately that was the truth. She’s grown to love him and even though what he did was awful she still did love him.
Patrick smiled as he saw Y/N run to his car. She got in the passenger seat. “Drive.” He pulled away from the hotel and drove off. “You wanna tell me what this is about?” He asked. “Pull over first.” She told him. He turned into an empty parking lot and parked. He turned towards her. She looked at him and handed him the pill bottle. He looked at it, “birth control pills? Why are you giving me these?” He asked her.
“I was taking those all through high school and college and never once missed a beat.” She tells him. “Okay?” She sighed, “Remember when I got pregnant?” He nodded. “Art took those from me so it would happen.” Patrick’s jaw dropped, “what? Are you sure?” She nodded. “I found those in his Tennis bag he had from college, he brought it with him and I never took those in front of him. One night I give him my key so he can take back his hoodies and after that I couldn’t find them.” “He hated that we liked each other.” Patrick said, “he lied about it Patrick.
He wanted this. Hell when I went to his room to confront him he guilt tripped me. I wasn’t going to be with him just cuz he got me pregnant. I loved you.” She exclaimed. “Y/N?” She looked at him, “do you still have feelings for me?”
Patrick looked over at Y/N as he bounced the ball. Y/N kept a straight face as he bounced the ball a few times. Art watched as Patrick put the ball to the center of the racket. Art’s face dropped and he looked at Y/N. She wasn’t even looking at him. He looked at Patrick who nodded and smirked. “Fuck off.” He yelled. Patrick hit the ball and Art didn’t hit it back. Y/N held back tears as she watched Art’s world crumble. Why did she feel bad for him?
Y/N hugged Patrick after they both came down from their highs. He inhaled her sweet scent. “I’ve dreamt about doing that.” He said in her neck. “In your stinky car?” She joked. He chuckled, “not exactly but it works.” He said and pulled away from her neck. She kissed him and it wasn’t full of lust. No it wasn’t something else. Love? He kissed back.
They played Tennis like they hadn’t played Tennis before. And it was a great scene. Art was definitely angered but felt like it was deserved. Patrick was on top of the world that he got to sleep with Y/N. It was a crazy thing when at first it wasn’t clear who won.
Y/N laid on Patrick’s chest as they laughed. “So you and Art had a secret way of telling each other when you fucked someone?” She asked. He nodded, “Yup. I almost wanna do it tomorrow.” “Will he know it’s about me?” “He should.” “Do it then.” Patrick looked down at her, shocked. “Really?” She nodded and looked up at him. “But I still love him.” She said softly and Patrick nodded.
Art entered the hotel room with Y/N walking behind him. “So Patrick and you?” He asked. She nodded, “Why?” She took out the pills and gave them to him. His face turned more white than it already was. “How did you find these?” He asked her. “Your tennis bag is the same one from college.” She told him. “You hate me now don’t you?” He asked softly. She shook her head, “ No. I should but I don’t.” He looked up at her with relief. “You’re a piece of shit Art.” She tells him and his face drops. “But I’m willing to forgive you if we can add Patrick into our relationship. I’m not an idiot, I know you two had a thing for each other.”
#challengers movie#challengers 2024#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson smut#art donaldson imagine#art donaldson x you#mike faist#patrick zweig#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig smut#patrick zweig imagine#patrick zweig x you#josh o'connor#tashi duncan#zendaya
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Hi, I saw you wrote about Jason, could you tell me how Jason would behave with someone who loves him unconditionally? but it wasn't even a batgirl or middle , What would happen? Would it be a lot of fights or...? for your past
I wanted you to write so much 😭 please
Yess i do write for jason, ik i show a lot of love to dick(he's my baby) and tim( also my baby) but jason is also my baby( my indian parents are very disappointed in me)
Jason x Superloving! y/n
You are his dream girl!! the perfect match!! a normal girl who loves him no matter what he has to deal with, someone safe, warm and kind to come to after living a life he hates.
You need to be incredibly patient, caring and observant when it comes to jason. Bro can not communicate his feelings nor does he knows how to show them. He wants to , if he could he would bring the stars and moon and make them into pretty beads to have the honor to be a part of your necklace collection. Infact just ask him to and he will find a way. But with you, aka someone who loves him no matter what- he doesn't feel as guilty and insecure about not being able to be as open and romantic as you deserve.
Also jason would really be best off with a non vigilante/hero/powers girlfriend. Some comics mention how much Jason hates this sort of life but has been living it cause he has no other outlet for his trauma and pain and feels like he has no out anymore. So a sweet, kind girl who allows him to see what a normal life could be like. Who helps him overcome his trauma in a healthy way .
Jason also loves simple domestic things, he never grew up with them. Never had anything close to a "home" not a house, a "home. You give that to him. Someplace where he can breathe, be happy and in love.
Fight? haha no way. I mean yes jason explodes sometimes and runs away from expressing himself. And ofcourse you worry for him . He also is super jealous and insecure. So misunderstandings happen. But since you are so loving, patient and openly infatuated with Jason, its really rare that you actually fight. Maybe in the beginning of the relationship but after that almost never fight
Jason could never hurt you, he wont. its his biggest fear . And the moment a single tear comes to your eyes or u get really upset , he drops everything and then you're the priority. Noone hurts you, not even him .
I think you and Jason after a couple years will just leave all that vigilante stuff behind and jason becomes a nice literature professor and you pursue your own dreams. also start a nice way of helping out homeless kids and rehabilitation of substance abusers . ( I will forever push jason literature teacher canon) In the end, you guys will probably the first of the batfam to get married and maybe even get kids. You are everything Jason needs and once he gets over his issues, he'll be sure to tell you that.
I hope this was what you were looking for, I didn't fully understand the request. Thanks for asking so nicely , it really motivates me to write when I see such nice requests.
#•#Jason Todd x Reader#Jason Todd x You#Jason Todd x Y/N#Jason Todd Fluff#Jason Todd Angst#Jason Todd Comfort#Jason Todd Headcanons#Jason Todd Imagines#Red Hood x Reader#Red Hood x You#Red Hood x Y/N#Red Hood Fluff#Red Hood Comfort#Batfamily#Batfamily x Reader#Batfamily Fluff#Batfamily x You#Batfamily x Y/N#Batfamily Headcanons#Batfamily Imagines#Batboys#Batboys x Reader#Batboys Fluff#Batboys Headcanons#Batboys Imagines
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I just had a thought- how would Grim and the ramshackle ghosts feel about all the stuff happening to us?
Especially if the yandere(s) are coming over to our dorm too! Would they, depending on the severity of the yandere and their specific actions, range from supporting it cuz yknow reader gets to be happy with someone who treats them well and loves them to concerned because sweetie please get yourself outta there 😭
I can imagine Grim is NOT alright with it and for a multitude of reasons, they are taking away your time with HIM, and once he pays more attention to the bigger picture? Yeah messed up things be occasionally happening that could very well hurt you!! He does not like that!!!
im just imagining Grim being visibly not alright and reader will not have it either when it comes to him, they are a PACKAGE deal and that is that no matter which yandere comes their way 🗣️
we have many people more alright with Grim being reader’s number one priority, or yknow silently(?) wishing it was them, poor Grim and Reader man encountering yandere after yandere 😭
Grim would give us a look if we expressed any sort of romantic interest in any yandere I think lol
‘Pologies if it was too long or ranty, though I am curious who you think would be the most and least alright with this? I imagine Leona and Ace (legally required to bring up Ace he’s my all time fav next to Grim) would NOT like it lmao
.. first off, this is the longest ask ive ever gotten, I gotta just say oml thank you so much????? You, wrote all of this, fpr me?? 🥹🥹🥹💖💖💖 this literally made my week thank you so much bestie 🥹😭 second off, this inspired me to rant too, I hope you enjoy!- (not proofread btw)
So im mainly gonna focus on grim, no offence to ramshackle ghost fans, I just really like the silly little fire-cat/rat/weasel/creature. He was literally our first friend, our first companion (I bet Ace and grim bicker on who was your first).
And oh boy, guy is NOT HAPPY when he sees all these dumbasses vying for your attention and either trying to butter him up with tuna (which will not work on the mighty grim!) or ugnore him completely! Like you stated you and him are a package deal! Get the prefect and get their silly hungry companion!!
Now, grim surely uses his position as your closest companion as a safety net, they can't kill off the closest you have to family in this world! Guess they gotta live with him if they wanna have a life with you.
Ace hates that grim was your friend before him, feeling annoyed whenever he bullied (Juice) Deuce about being friends with you before him only for grim to butt in. Ace isn't too annoyed with grim though, and grim thinks that Ace is one of the better choises of the roster you have, they're both friends after all.
Of course most students in the cast don't liek "sharing" you with grim, especially the more territorial ones. Leona is probably the worst, I mean come on they're both feline looking creatures. With scent being a heavy thing for felines (yes even beastmen dont come at me) Leona is not happy to have his scent on you be muddied by the little rodent (the greatest mage of all, grim). Probably the worst choise since they're just gonna bicker to the end of the world..
Floyd doesn't like this either! Not fair that he has to share!! And with grim no less.. Floyd results in biting you instead of scenting, his chompers being good for nibbling on you. He also has the advantage that grim is sorta afraid of him (honestly who wouldn't be? Especially yan Floyd...).
Kalim tries to brime grim, with anything he could ever think off! Unlimited tuna for grim, and the best there is as well!! Nything grim could ever want on a silver platter, only if grim let's kalim marry you! That alone doesn't sound too bad, but that unsettling horrifying servant that follows Kalim around. He knows what jamil can do, and he sure does NOT want you with that dude!- guy is manipulative and creepy (he would definelty seperate you and grim!-)
Malleus... Malleus scares grim, guys is honestly horrifying. Threatening to curse him into an eternal slumber so he can whisk you away from him, he doesn't want that! You would also get sad id malleus did that, so luckily the possessive dragon had to share (for now...)
Whoever you choose, grim would probably disapprove, guy thinks of you as family (he will never admit that tho). He cares about you, and he is not okay with the invasion of privacy from these teenagers! >:(
I know you didn't ask fpr any drawing or such, but I couldn't help myself sorry 🤭 hope you like my ramblings back at you!
#yandere twst#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twst art#yandere twisted wonderland art#yandere ace#yandere ace trappola#yandere leona#yandere leona kingscholar#yandere floyd#yandere floyd leech#yandere kalim#yandere kalim al asim#yandere jamil#yandere jamil viper#yandere malleus#yandere malleus draconia#grim being a silly guy#i love grim sm best dude in twst fr
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the new girl • ateez
ateez gets a new pet
warnings: bdsm au. dom!ateez, sub!reader, use of bdsm terms but they’re not hard to figure out, more experienced ateez, rewards and punishments, bdsm training, impact play, pet play, praise and degradation, cocky & patronising ateez, implied bisexual reader, orders, naked female & clothed males, finger blasting, anal play, oral (f receiving), mouth fucking (with fingers), voyeurist ateez at times, taking turns, no penetrative sex. everything you’d expect from a bdsm au tbh
A few days ago you could never have pictured yourself in this situation, or any like it, for that matter. But here you are, in a private room of a bar in Gangnam with eight men who seem genuinely interested in making you their submissive. How their even knew you were into that kind of thing is a mystery — or would be a mystery, were it not for your smug looking best friend behind the bar who’s been talking for months about setting you up with some of the people who patronise these rooms and make little secret (to the staff, at least) of what they use them for. But to your friend’s credit, she’s managed to pick, out of what you’re sure has to be scores of creeps and weirdos, eight extremely attractive, extremely interested men.
“We usually find our partners through matching sites and meet them here for the first time,” they’d explained, “but we’ve been out of luck recently, so we thought we’d try to find someone the old fashioned way. And when your friend behind the bar told us what a natural submissive you are, we knew we had to meet you for ourselves.”
You’d blushed at that, both at their words and the fact that your friend had so wantonly offered you up like that. But it’s true that you’re naturally submissive, and she has reason to know it; in college you’d done casual scenes a few times with her, and though you never ventured much further than whips and chains and yes ma’ams, the little you had explored was enough to show you and her just how submissive you are, and want to be. And if she trusts these strange men, who surround you like predators and stare at you like prey, then so do you.
They seem to have heard the stories too, of just how easily you’d caved when she praised you or ordered you around, and they definitely seem to like those stories. And even though you’re essentially being interrogated for your suitability as what some would call a sex slave, you feel comfortable and at ease with them, which you didn’t even know was possible in a scenario like this. So when they ask if you’d like to meet again to explore this further, you don’t even bother to blame the wine for how quickly you agree.
They offer to squeeze you into their cars to drive you home but you decline, insisting it’s not worth the trouble. With a half-joking you won’t be ordering us around for much longer they call you a cab, bidding you farewell with a quick hug each. The leader, Hongjoong, adds his contact to your phone and slips a black business card into your back pocket.
“I’ll see you soon, puppy,” he smiles.
Over the next few weeks you text and call back and forth with the men. They’re kind, unexpectedly patient and gentle considering the type of relationship you’re quickly moving towards with them. In just your luck, their schedules take them out of the country two days after your first meeting, and by the time they’re back and have enough time off to give you the attention they want to, you’ve known them for a couple of months, and like them, you’re impatient to start.
But ever the careful and responsible dominants, they insist on a few more in-person meetings with each individual member — “for your safety, puppy, and ours,” they say — before you finally get the call you’ve been waiting for.
“Hi, honey,” Hongjoong greets. “Are you ready to start?”
——————
Days later, you meet them again in a cafe in Gangnam. It’s a pretty unique set-up for a cafe, a little darker and more ambient than most, but it suits the purpose of your meeting well. You spot them quickly, huddled around a table in the far corner of the room and they see you too, waving you over. It’s only four of them, you note, not the eight you’d met the last time. They stand to allow you the choice of where to sit and you choose a seat at the edge. You know them fairly well and have no doubts of their intentions, but you know you’ll feel more at-ease knowing you can get up and leave quickly if needed. The others settle in, Yeosang next to you, Seonghwa and Hongjoong opposite, and Jongho at the end. Their gazes are fixed on you and just as intense as you remember them.
“Uh…” you start. “Where are the others?”
“We thought it’d be better if less of us came this time,” Hongjoong explains. “To make it less overwhelming for you.”
“It’s something we should have considered last time,” Seonghwa adds. “We apologise that we didn’t.”
You smile, shaking your head. “No, it’s fine,” you say.
“It’s not,” Jongho says, “but it won’t happen again. Did you bring everything we asked?”
You nod, reaching into your jacket pocket to pull out a crumpled sheet of paper with everything you’d been told to pack. “I think so,” you say as your eyes move down the list. “Yes, I think I remembered it all.”
“We’ll see later,” Seonghwa smiles. “It’s not a problem if you didn’t, though. You tried your best and you’re new to this.”
The others hum in agreement and you smile nervously.
“You even wrote it all out, didn’t you?” Jongho says, gesturing to the list in your hands. “Good girl.”
“Thank you,” you whisper.
“Would you like me to explain the plan for this week?” Hongjoong asks gently.
You nod, staring down at your hands as they fiddle in your lap. A larger hand comes to rest atop them, holding them still and you look up to meet Yeosang’s firm gaze on you. “Look at him and answer him properly, sweetheart,” he says, gentle but stern.
You nod, feeling stupid and look up at to see Hongjoong staring expectantly at you. “Yes please,” you say and he smiles, easing up.
“Good girl,” he praises. You blush, bowing your head in embarrassment and Yeosang clicks his tongue, wordlessly chastising you. You mumble an apology and meet Hongjoong’s gaze, who praises you again. “Think of it as a trial run, yeah? We want you, we know that, but we need to see how it will work. What kind of arrangement will suit you best.”
You nod in understanding. Yeosang releases your hands from his grip but you grab his arm as he starts to move it away, needing someone to hold onto while you digest it all. He smiles and takes your hand back in his, squeezing it gently. “Good girl,” he mumbles.
“Are you with us so far?” Seonghwa asks.
“Yes,” you say.
“Good,” he smiles. “So for this week, we’ll all be getting to know each other and getting used to our new dynamic. We’ll start figuring out the kind of submissive you are and the kind of training you’ll need. That make sense to you?”
You nod a little dazily, starting to feel overwhelmed. None of these words are new to you, of course, even in this context, but they’ve never been so real to you before. To be spoken about like a pet, a submissive in need of training, is a lot to take in. It’s also strangely, embarrassingly thrilling. “It makes sense,” you confirm. Your voice catches in your throat at first but if they notice, they don’t care. Maybe they enjoy it.
“What, um…” you trail off, feeling awkward, but a nudge from Yeosang encourages you. “What happens at the end of the week?”
The men share a look that you can’t quite decipher. “Well,” Hongjoong says, “it’ll be up to you. If you’re happy with how things are going and want to commit, you can stay with us. You’ll keep your own place, of course, but we’ll move the things that you’ll need to our place and start making it your main residence.”
“But if you want to take it slower,” Jongho continues, “which is always an option, I might add, we’ll take you home and continue getting to know you more casually, just like how you would in a normal relationship.”
“And of course, ending our arrangement entirely is an option too,” Yeosang adds. “At any time.”
The others voice their agreement and you smile gratefully. “Thank you,” you say. “I’ll remember that.”
The oldest two smile, sharing a look before Seonghwa speaks. “If you’re ready,” he says, “there are four people at home waiting very patiently for your arrival.”
—————
Their home is large, in a nice, quiet area of the city where little could disturb — or be disturbed by — you. Your bags are carried by Jongho as Seonghwa leads you by the hand to the front door. Before he can even get the keys out of his pocket, the door swings open, revealing an excited looking San standing eagerly in the doorway. “Hi, baby,” he beams at you.
“Were you watching from the window?” Seonghwa asks. San nods unashamedly and the elder mumbles something that he ignores.
“Come in, baby,” San says. “We’re waiting inside. Can I take her in, Seonghwa?”
“It’s up to her,” Seonghwa says, smiling down at you. “She can make her own decisions. For now.”
For now. His words dizzy you slightly and you can practically see the evil plans forming behind San’s eyes. He offers his hand and you take it, turning to Seonghwa. “Are you coming too?” You ask.
He smiles fondly, shaking his head. “We’re gonna get everything set up in your room for you first, honey. San’ll take care of you.”
You nod with slight uncertainty but allow San to lead you through to the living room. The set up is… interesting, you think. A massive TV, typical for a house of men, surrounded by black leather couches and chairs arranged almost in a circle. The coffee table’s been moved from its spot in the middle, leaving it, or so you have a funny feeling, open for you to be displayed to them. Just the sight of the arrangement has you feeling like prey, but what’s more intimidating is the man on the couch who looks up with interest when you walk in. He smiles kindly as he stands to greet you, but you see the look in his eyes. Without them saying anything to you, it’s clear what your place is just from the way these men look at you. You’re their toy, and they’re your owners.
“There she is,” the man — Wooyoung, you remember — breathes. “Hi, doll.”
You wave shyly at him and he smiles. “Cute,” he says.
“You remember all our names, right?” San asks and you nod. “Good girl.”
“Bring her over here, Sannie,” Wooyoung says. San nods and guides you over to sit on the couch, sandwiched between him and Wooyoung.
“Can I touch you?” Wooyoung asks. You nod and he smiles, pressing a hand to your cheek. Without realising and almost instinctively, you nuzzle into his touch and he coos, stroking your cheek gently. “You’re such a puppy, aren’t you?” He hums. If you’d been confident enough to meet his gaze, you’d have seen the dark, predatory look in his eyes.
“Wooyoung,” you whine, embarrassed. He coos again and you blush deeper, hiding your face from view.
“She’s going under already,” San chuckles. “Such a natural, aren’t you baby?”
“Already toying with her, are we?” Someone interjects. You look up to see Yunho in the doorway, staring amusedly at the scene in front of him. “I thought we agreed to wait.”
“I can’t help it, Yunho,” Wooyoung replies. “She’s so pliant.”
Yunho cocks an eyebrow, taking a few steps towards you. “Is she?”
“Just so easy,” San affirms, running a hand through your hair. “Such a darling puppy.”
You moan softly at the sensations of the men on each side of you running their hands over your body. Yunho chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m sure,” he smiles. “Do you think she’s ready?”
San and Wooyoung share a look and you stare at them quizzically. “Ready for what?” You ask quietly.
Wooyoung smiles down at you fondly. “Don’t worry, baby,” he says. He looks up at Yunho. “I think she is. Where’s Hongjoong?”
“Here,” comes a familiar voice. Hongjoong emerges from behind Yunho, his eyes finding you the moment he walks into the room. “Hey, bunny.”
You like that name. “Hi,” you squeak.
He smiles like you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen before turning his gaze to Wooyoung. “What did you want me for?”
“I didn’t,” Wooyoung says snappily. Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “We were wondering if you think she’s ready yet.”
His older’s eyes widen slightly but he seems to consider it for a second. “If Seonghwa agrees,” he decides. “Then so do I. I thought we’d wait a few more hours, but…”
“Yeah, not happening,” Yunho says. “It’ll be a tall order keeping these two off of her until then.”
The men beside you glare at him but don’t refute his words. You still don’t know exactly what it is you’re meant to be… ready for, but it sounds important. You wonder what it is that Hongjoong won’t agree to without the elder’s assent.
“Do you know where Seonghwa is?” San asks. “And the others?”
“In her room, I think,” Hongjoong says. “Just finishing up. Should we call them down?”
The three share a look, silently deciding before they nod, small smiles on their faces as they give Hongjoong their agreement. He nods, and you can see he’s smiling too, but in a different way than he’d been smiling at you earlier. There’s something behind it, a desire maybe, or an intention, that you can’t decipher. You’re not entirely sure if you want to. But you’ve willingly put yourself into his hands, all of their hands, and you’re desperate to see what they do with it.
When he calls the others down they come separately, but soon enough all eight of them have gathered in the living room with you. Even as they talk to each other about things you don’t understand, their eyes are set on you. You feel tiny and describable but also oddly safe. They stare at you like a toy, sure, but a fragile one. One they want to cherish and protect as much as play with. You already feel comfortable and warm surrounded by them in a way you didn’t know you could.
After a short and indecipherable discussion with Hongjoong, Seonghwa briefly moves his gaze from you to give him one final look. When his eyes return to you they’re even darker than before. Deep down you know that something, or someone, has just flipped the switch.
“She’s ready,” he says. “Let’s start.”
You hear your breath hitch, feeling your heart begin to race and Wooyoung hushes you, stroking your head. “Don’t worry,” he says. “It’s nothing to be scared of.”
“It’s really not,” San assures. He turns his gaze to Seonghwa who keeps it briefly before he shrugs, a small smile on his face. “We’re just gonna play with you. But the first time is always special.”
You nod, a little less nervous but still, your first time playing with them, being their submissive, is no small thing. It’s a moment you’ve been playing in your head for weeks, months — what it would be like, what they’d be like, what they’d expect, how they’d do. In the days leading up to this meeting you’d been kept up with nightmares of failing them, of falling short and being kicked to the curb despite how often they’d reassured you that they’d never, ever do that. And now that moment’s here. Time to prove yourself — or not.
San and Wooyoung stand up, pulling you to your feet by each of your arms. They each press a kiss to each of your cheeks before walking away to join the crowd, leaving you alone and watched, completely surrounded by them. Truly a prey among predators. They regard you silently for a few minutes, eyes running up and down each inch of your body before Hongjoong speaks.
“We’re going to give you a little test, pet,” he says. “It’s not to see if we want you, because you’re already ours, but to see how much training you’ll need.”
You nod in understanding and he clicks his tongue, already displeased. “The first lesson is verbal answers,” he says. “Unless we tell you not to speak, you respond to everything we tell you in words. Yes sir or no sir will do. Do you understand?”
You nod again, but realise your mistake quickly and squeak out a weak “yes sir.” Hongjoong smiles approvingly.
“Strip down to your panties,” he says. “Put them on the chair then come back to stand over here. Do it now.”
You breathe out another “yes sir” and do as he commands. You turn away from the men as you undress, too embarrassed to face them but you can still feel their eyes burning into you. Your hands shake as you unbutton your shirt, folding it neatly before placing it on the chair as instructed. Your bra quickly joins it, then the skirt and tights until all that’s left are your tiny white panties, clinging to your hips as you turn around nervously.
You feel exposed, clad only in one flimsy garment and surrounded by eight fully-clothed men. Their gazes are dark and intense on you and you’ve never felt more vulnerable. But they look pleased, which eases your nerves slightly.
“Very good,” Hongjoong says approvingly, gaze fixed on your chest. You blush, hands instinctively reaching to cover your chest but you think better of it before it’s covered. Just in the nick of time, you think, if the scowl on Yeosang’s face is anything to go by.
“Smart girl,” Seonghwa chuckles. “Are you ready to start?”
“Yes, sir,” you say. He smiles gently and beckons you towards him. As you approach him, the others move to form a circle around you. You gulp, somehow feeling even smaller than before. You’re truly trapped now.
“Right then,” Seonghwa says, clapping his hands together. You flinch at the sudden sound and you hear a few of them chuckle. With your eyes cast down, you miss the glint that crosses each of their eyes at your obvious fear. “We’ll start by seeing which commands you already know. We’ll teach you the ones you don’t.”
“Yes, sir,” you say.
“Look at me,” he says. You look up, meeting his gaze nervously and he smiles.
“Down,” he says.
It takes you a moment to register the command, and by the time you do it’s clearly too late. Seonghwa sighs, looking disappointed. He nods to a man behind you and before you can register it, five hard slaps are delivered to your ass. You yelp and try to lean away but the man snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you backwards into him.
“Disobeying already,” he breathes and you recognise the voice as Wooyoung. You whine and he slaps you again, this time reaching around to hit the front of your thigh.
“Don’t complain,” he grumbles.You breathe out an apology and he hums, rubbing the pink mark on your thigh with momentary tenderness. “And no more talking. You’re a puppy now”
You nod, and your first instinct is to apologise but you think better of it, literally biting your tongue to keep your words in your mouth. Wooyoung notices, chucking lowly before he steps back from you.
Jongho steps forwards, commanding your attention as he approaches you. He gets close enough to kiss you, close enough for you see the small details of his face, but that face is emotionless. Focused.
“This is your second lesson,” he says. His voice is even lower now, with a new quality you don’t recognise. But you know exactly what it is — dominance. Control “When we say ‘down’,” he says, “you get on your knees. Instantly and without question. If you don’t, you’ll be punished. So let’s try that again. Down.”
Desperate to obey, you let your legs give out, falling to your knees with hopeful eyes on him.He smiles, pressing a hand to your cheek and letting you nuzzle into it. “Good dog,” he says. “Up now.”
You spring to your feet without thinking, basking in the pleased looks on their faces. “Clever girl,” San praises. You smile shyly at him and he smiles back. For the first time since you’ve met him, it doesn’t reach his eyes.
Then Jongho steps away, leaving you alone and surrounded again. You do your best to stay still, figuring that’s your best bet to avoid Wooyoung’s heavy hand for now.
They let you stand there, exposed and vulnerable, for a few minutes before moving on.
“Come,” Yeosang says. You start to walk towards him but he stops you with a raised hand. “Crawl.”
You gulp, shakily lowering yourself to your knees and crawling towards him. It’s only a few feet, but the thick silence and the feeling of their stares on you makes it feel like miles. It barely registers with you exactly what’s happening right now; you’re naked except your skimpy panties, surrounded by eight fully clothed men, crawling towards one of them at his command. You can’t think of anything more humiliating. Or arousing.
When you reach Yeosang he reaches to stroke your hair. “Sit,” he orders. You sit back up onto your knees and he smiles. “She’s learning fast,” he says.
The others hum in agreement. “She’s clever,” Mingi says, sounding proud.
“She is,” Yeosang agrees. “ Alright, pet. The next commands are easy. Eyes up.”
This time they give you a second to figure it out and you do, meeting Yeosang’s gaze with hopeful eyes. He nods. “Eyes down.” This one is much easier to figure out — you drop your eyes to your lap, contrite and humble. “Good girl,” he says. “Isn’t she good?”
“The best,” Yunho purrs. You don’t notice him creeping up behind you until you feel his big hands wrap gently around your throat. After a few more commands, properly obeyed depute your shaky start, he speaks again. “Shouldn’t we reward her now, Joong? She’s done well.”
A few others chime in their agreement and Hongjoong hums. “You’re right,” he agrees. “Come here, baby.”
You crawl to him, slightly faster as you begin to get to the feeling of it, and Hongjoong crouched down to your level, holding his arms out for you to crawl into. He lets you snuggle into his chest for a moment before pulling away, moving his hands to gently hold your face.
“Tell me,” he whispers. “How do you want to be rewarded?”
The answer slips out before you can consider it. “Fuck me,” you say. At his raised eyebrow, you tack on a whispered, “please, sir.”
Hongjoong smiles, running his thumb over your lips. When they part slightly he slips it into your mouth, letting you suckle at it. He looks enamoured by the sight. “No, honey,” he smiles. “You’re not ready for that yet.”
“I am,” you insist, nodding fervently.
Silence briefly abounds before Hongjoong slaps you across the face, quick and wordless, like this is a normal way for him to express his displeasure — which, when it comes to you, it probably will be. “Don’t disagree with us,” he snaps. “What you think doesn’t matter anymore. You’re not ready.”
You bow your head. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m not ready.”
Hongjoong nods. “Turn around and show me your ass.”
You obey, turning slowly on your fours until your ass faces him, leaving you facing the rest of the men. They stare at you with fascination and scrutiny. Hongjoong runs a hand down your ass cheek with feather-light touches. You feel electricity prickle up your spine, fearful. You’ve displeased him and spoken out of turn and you worry about the consequences. His hands aren’t the largest in the group but he mentioned he works out and he’s still much larger and stronger than you, so you don’t doubt that he could cause you a lot of pain if he wanted to. A few cracks of his hand against your ass would no doubt leave it stinging and you shiver at the thought.
But the harsh, punishing strikes you’re expecting don’t come. Instead he runs a long finger down the centre of your ass until it lightly grazes across your pussy. You squirm at the feeling. The others smile at the sight as their leader pushes your panties to the side to press a finger into your heat. “How does she feel, Joong?” Seonghwa asks.
“She’s perfect,” comes Hongjoong’s voice from behind you. It’s slightly strained and raspier than before. He’s clearly just as affected and you feel proud. “Tight and warm like we thought she’d be.”
You make a noise of surprise and he shushes you. You knew they’d have talked about you in your absence, but you hadn’t considered that they’d have talked about…this specifically. And the way they talk about you like a thing, like you’re not even there, is objectifying in the best way. Everything about this is hotter than you could have imagined. Even the slightest touches set your skin alight and they know it.
Hongjoong curls his finger slightly and you jolt forward a bit but he quickly pulls you back, wrapping an arm around your neck to put you in a near headlock. “Easy, baby,” he whispers. “Easy.”
You look up to see the others have inched towards you, surrounding you completely. They each look thrilled in a different way, and you’re desperate for their touch — any of them. All of them.
“Please,” you gasp. You can barely speak through Hongjoong’s grip on your neck but they hear you.
Seonghwa comes to kneel in front of you, cradling your face in his palms. “Oh baby, baby,” he whispers melodiously. “So pretty like this.”
Mingi and San join Hongjoong behind you, running their hands over your ass and their fingers through your wet folds as Hongjoong adds a second finger to your hole. With the two fingers inside you he spreads you open, allowing the other two a perfect view of your stretched out pussy. “Fuck,” they both breathe. “The prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen,” Mingi says and San agrees.
Jongho and Wooyoung and Yunho and Yeosang take their places on either side of you. Wooyoung reaches to play with your tits, grabbing and squeezing them and slapping them where they hang below you. His hits are hard like the ones he’d delivered to your ass earlier, and soon your pretty tits are decorated with red marks. The other three seem content to watch and palm themselves as Hongjoong works you open and Wooyoung abuses your sensitive tits, while Seonghwa pushes finger after finger into your mouth, lazily fucking your throat with his long digits. You gag and choke when he pushes them deeper but you do your best to suck them. Seonghwa tuts when you choke particularly violently but he seems pleased with your efforts. “You’ll make such a perfect cock sucker,” he muses. “You’re such a natural already.”
You whine around his fingers, stuffed into your throat and covered in your drool. He presses a kiss to your forehead before he pushes them in deeper. You choke but keep them in your throat and you hear Yunho whistle. “She’s dedicated,” he says admiringly.
“She was born for this.” Seonghwa speaks through gritted teeth and you look down to see his hard cock straining against his pants. You’re not sure what you were expecting exactly, but you’re surprised by its thickness. You’re not quite certain how it will fit inside you.
Returning your gaze to his, you’re met with total, almost feral darkness in his eyes. “Don’t tempt me,” he grunts. “I’ll ruin you.”
He pulls his fingers from your mouth, slapping you across the cheek a couple of times until your face is red and covered in your saliva. Hongjoong’s keeping a steady pace as his fingers pump into your pussy, but there’s so many sensations, so many strong hands on you, that you can’t quite process it all. Your awareness of each man goes up and down with each movement they make and you’re completely overwhelmed.
Painfully quickly, Hongjoong pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty for one merciful moment until the men next to him take their turn. Mingi presses a finger to the edge of your asshole, not penetrating it, just gently and softly teasing the rim, but the feeling is enough to make you buck against him. His other hand grabs your waist, holding in place. “Have you never played with this hole before, baby?” He asks.
You whine, shaking your head and he laughs. “You’ll be used to it soon enough,” he says. “It’s Jongho’s favourite hole, isn’t it?”
Jongho laughs and though you know he’s right next to you, he sounds distant and out of reach. You gasp at the feeling of another, thicker finger on your asshole. Unlike Mingi, Jongho doesn’t hesitate, pushing his finger into you. It’s a completely foreign feeling, much different to the feeling of your pussy being penetrated, but in some weird way it almost feels… better. Maybe it’s the resistance your tight hole puts up against him, stretching around him then sucking him in; or maybe it’s the degrading, humiliating feeling of knowing every one of your holes is being used and explored by these men. Either way, you’ve never felt like this before and you don’t want it to stop.
While the two men play with your asshole, San dives into your pussy, latching his mouth onto it and exploring it with his tongue. You’re fairly certain Hongjoong’s fingers have already made you cream but if San notices, it clearly only spurs him on as he eats you relentlessly, pushing you quickly towards the edge.
“Fuck, San!” You scream and he growls, landing a hard slap against your already red cheeks.
“That’s not my name,” he snarls. His voice is muffled by your pussy like he couldn’t bear to pull himself away from it even for a second. You must taste good, you think with pride, but another harsh slap reminds you to respond.
“I’m sorry, sir,” you say.
You feel San smile against your pussy, large hand soothingly rubbing the red mark where he’d slapped you.
While you were distracted by the three men playing with your holes, the other five have stood up, retreating to the surrounding couches where they’ve somehow even served themselves wine without you noticing. You look up to see them watching you intently, small smiles on their face as they lounge around, taking in the sight in front of them. You must look pathetic, you think; face covered in your own sweat and drool, entire body littered with red handprints and three men stretching and playing with your holes. But you can see from the faces, and bulges of the men on the couches, that they love it as much as you do.
San pulls his mouth off of you, replacing it with his fingers before you can complain or even register the absence. He works you open a little more gently than Hongjoong, but the pumps of his fingers are strong and precise. On their side of him, the other two have started a game of how many fingers they can fit in your asshole. They do it carefully, wetting their fingers and inserting them slowly, with each finger they add you’re stretched a little more and it burns. Deliciously.
Your mouth hangs open, breaths strangled as you lose yourself in the feeling. You feel your eyes roll back as San speeds up, pumping three fingers in and out of you. Mingi and Jongho pull theirs out, rubbing your loosened asshole almost soothingly as San keeps going, faster, harder, deeper, until all it takes is for him to press this thumb firmly against your clit for you to let go, coming all over his fingers.
As soon as you’re done you collapse, letting your body fall to the floor in exhaustion. Mingi and Jongho pull their fingers out of you with moaned praises, gently stroking your back. With his fingers still inside you San lifts you up, pulling you back to lie against his chest. His fingers don’t move inside you, just sitting there like a comforting presence as he adjusts you to a comfortable position. He pulls them out slowly, hushing you when you whine softly at the loss, and settles you so your head is resting on his chest, just under his neck and chin so he can easily lean down to whisper to you. “Didn’t know you were such a squirter, baby,” he mumbles.
Too fucked out to respond, you just groan and he chuckles. “I’ve got you, honey,” he says. He starts to sway, rocking you back and forth soothingly. You hear him say something to someone else, you think Jongho, who laughs and hands him something. You look up to see San wiping his hand, wet with you slick, onto a towel. He sees you watching and smiles down at you, pressing a kiss to your head before reaching down to move your panties, still bunched to the side to expose your dripping hole, back into place.
You hear other voices around you as your eyelids start to droop. With San’s hand rubbing comfortingly up and down your back, you let yourself fall asleep, snoring softly against his chest. He watched you with a fond smile. “She’s asleep,” he announces to the others.
“Good,” Yeosang says, “she deserves it. She did well.”
Hongjoong hums. “Better than I thought. I’m so glad we found her.”
“I’m gonna take her upstairs,” San says. The others agree and he slowly stands, holding you carefully in his arms as he carries up to your new bedroom. They watch as he leaves before turning to face each other. It’s silent for a few long seconds before Wooyoung speaks.
“This is going to be so much fun.”
—————
hi! thank you for reading my first full-group fic! if people enjoy it i plan to make it into a series, but i deliberately wrote it so it can be left as a standalone as well. so please comment and let me know what you’d like! i really appreciate seeing everyone’s feedback or thoughts on my writing, and it encourages me to write more too. so please let me know. if you want this to continue, i’m also happy to accept requests for it as well as my regular requests. just specify☺️! thank you for reading as always! please reblog & comment, i can’t wait to see everyone’s thoughts on this! my seonghwa fic will be coming soon as well. please forgive any errors, i have proofread but things may have slipped through. love🖤🖤🖤
#ateez smut#ateez hard hours#ateez x reader#hongjoong smut#seonghwa smut#yeosang smut#yunho smut#jeong yunho smut#jongho smut#san smut#choi san smut#mingi smut#wooyoung smut#poly ateez x reader#dom ateez
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SWEET LOVE - CAITLIN CLARK
summary𞠬: hiii could you write caitlin clark x reader where she has a crush on a singer in the same level as taylor swift (like super famous, eyes on them all the time etc etc etc) pls and thank u!!
warnings:N/A (at least i don’t think so)
tags: @patscorner @wintersstan @pbueckerslover @h34rtsformilli @cosmopretty
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ITS BEEN TWO DAYS since your encounter with caitlin. it’s been a weird experience knowing that you two were staying in the same hotel.
sure you never ran into each other due to your different schedules, but knowing she was here was enough to get you on edge, even more today, you’re manger had told you that they got courtside tickets to iowas game.
just your luck, sure you didn’t mind going to the game but knowing thousands of people are going to be there that knew who she was and who you were.
-
as you walked in eyes and cameras were immediately on you, you tried your hardest to ignore them and enjoy the game but it was difficult with people coming up to you and asking for photos or autographs. surely as soon as the players started to come out everything died down.
but your heart rate didn’t, as soon as she stepped on the court your heart rate picked up the way her ponytail moved with her movements, she got to her spot on the court ready to start her warmups when her eyes landed on yours.
a smile made its way to her face and she gave you a small wave which you returned as she turned her focus back towards her warmups.
throughout the whole game you tried your hardest not to look at her but your eyes kept moving towards her and everything she did.
as the game came to an end you got your things ready to leave when a hand tapped your shoulder “hey!” you said with a smile “hi! thank you so much for coming to my game” said caitlin with a huge smile going in for a side hug “of course, you guys did amazing!”
“hey by any chance are you free this weekend?” asked caitlin fidgeting with the towel she had in her hands “yea, i should be free” you said looking back at your manager who gave you a slight nod as to say yes. “okay, because i was wondering if you would want to maybe go have lunch or dinner with me” she whispered the last part but not low enough for you not to hear her, “sure i would love to! here’s my number and text me the details later” you replied scribbling down your number on a piece of paper.
-
the weekend came faster than you could imagine, nerves were bubbling in your stomach as the time for your date with caitlin arrived. you were doing some finishing touches when your phone lit up with a notification “i’m outside :)”
butterflies filled your stomach as you read the message. she was outside your hotel room you couldn’t believe it, quickly gathering your things you headed towards the door. opening it you were met with a very nervous looking caitlin, at least you weren’t the only one, you smiled at her “hey” you said trying to ease up your own nerves “hi, ready?” she replied with a shy smile “yup! where are we headed?” you asked closing your door and walking to the elevator.
“you’ll see” replied caitlin with a look in her eyes you couldn’t quite figure out. walking down the streets of ohio you came across this cute little italian restaurant, you look at caitlin to see she’s already looking at you with a lovestruck smile. she opens the door for you “welcome to valerio’s do you have a reservation?” said the waitress with a friendly smile “yes! it’s under the name caitlin”
“right this way” said the waitress as she led you guys to a table near a window. “this is nice” you spoke looking around taking in the restaurant and how beautiful it was “the best italian restaurant here in cleveland” she says looking at you.
FAMOUS SINGER Y/N L/N WAS SEEN AT VALERIO’S ITALIAN RESTAURANT WITH AN UNKNOWN PERSON. WE SUSPECT SHE MAY BE SEEING SOMEONE, THE SINGER WAS LAST SEEN WITH.. read more
#caitlin clark x reader#caitlin clark#wnba#wcbb x reader#wlw#fanfic#wcbb#iowa wbb#iowa hawkeyes#iowa women’s basketball#university of iowa#iowa state#wnba x reader#wnba basketball#ncaa wbb#wbb x reader#lesbian#lgbtq
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List of “(un)requited love” prompts
Requested by: @girlwonder-writes
Request: “I would like 24 prompts about unrequited love please!”
“You’re the best thing that will never happen to me.”
“I love you. I know it’s one-sided. And that’s okay. I just needed you to know.”
“I swore to everything I love that I would never catch feelings for someone like you, but here we are. And what’s worse is you don’t feel the same, and I’m the one who’s going to embarrass themselves when all is said and done.”
“I don’t ask for you to love me back. I only ask you to understand it will take time for me to stop feeling this way for you.”
“I never asked to fall for someone whom I know doesn’t feel the same way.”
“There’s a twisted beauty in being in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same.”
“What’s worse is, this is the first time I’ve genuinely felt this way about someone.”
“Do my feelings disgust you that much that you can’t even look me in the eyes now?”
“I’ve always known that you don’t feel that way towards me. I just… Didn’t expect you to confirm it in a way that would both embarrass and hurt me.”
“Even love itself bested me.”
“Your mind’s not occupied by anyone else, so why can’t you let it be occupied by me instead? Like you occupy mine.”
“I mean, it would be nice if I was given even one chance to prove myself to you.”
“I respect that you don’t like me back, so I hope you can at least respect my feelings for you.”
“Did you really just ask me if I know how it feels to not have someone love you back like that? Me, the biggest lovesick loser of them all?”
“I’m tired. I want to let go.”
“I don’t want to feel like this way towards you anymore.”
“I’m not used to this lack of reciprocation.”
“Not to be a whiney bitch, but why can’t I be the one?”
“I don’t mind loving them from afar if it means I get to keep them in my life.”
“If I let go of you now… Then I’m letting go of you forever. And I don’t know… I don’t know if I can do that just yet.”
“We could be something more but there’s just one thing missing.” “Which is…?” “You also holding the same feelings for me, as I hold for you.”
“I fell for you, fully knowing the risks… Yet I was still unprepared for the crash.”
“This is why I never wanted to tell you how I felt! I knew it would ruin everything between us, and that’s exactly what’s happening right now.”
“You warned me not to fall for you. And it’s my fault I didn’t listen.”
Join my Discord server: Steaming Dumplings Nation
#angst prompts#prompts#otp prompts#writing prompts#dialogue prompts#request#one-sided love prompts#unrequited love prompts
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my best friends brother (is the one for me) - part three
i’m so excited for this series you guys aren’t ready
word count: 903 words
read part two here!
⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ୭ৎ ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚ ⋆｡˚
i woke up with the sun shining into my face. i turned around to try to get some more sleep, only to roll into matt. i had forgotten that i had slept in his room with him. i moved away from him and watched his chest rise and fall, small snores coming from his mouth with every exhale. i stretched my arm out, grazing over his chest, letting myself wonder what it would be like if it were like this all the time.
i watched as he slowly opened his eyes, moving his hands up to rub the sleep away from them. he turned over to face me with a goofy smile on his face.
“good morning.” he groaned as he stretched. i couldn’t helped looking at the skin peeking out from the hem of his shirt.
my attention being drawn away from a knock on the door.
“did y/n leave last- nevermind.” nick said while opening the door.
“sorry, we ended up watching another movie and by the time it was over you were already asleep. i didn’t want to wake you up.” i said, almost defensively, while starting to get out of bed.
“where’s my phone?” matt asked me, scrambling around him for it.
“oh, i put it over here with mine last night,” i grabbed the two phones handing him his, not before looking down at the screen lighting up. i recognized the wallpaper, it was a picture of us and his brothers from the last time we were in boston. one of few pictures we had taken that trip, he had his arms hugging my waist with his brothers next to us in a security camera. i smiled as i gave him his phone, getting up to go see what chris and nick were making for breakfast.
the only way i can describe the smell in my nose is burnt. the closer i got to the kitchen the worse it smelt. i walked into the kitchen to see chris running around, like he was trying to hide the evidence of anything going wrong.
despite the horrible smell, the food was surprisingly good. laid out on the table were eggs, slices of toast, bacon, sausage links, and waffles. it looked shockingly good, considering who cooked it. i grabbed a plate and started piling food onto it when i heard matt come out of his room. he walked right past me, grabbing a plate and walking to the table. i sat at an empty chair, thinking matt was going to sit next to me but he sat the furthest away from me.
i half ignored the conversation, eating my food and wondering what was up with matt. he was keeping to himself more than usual and not acting himself.
“you still with us y/n?” chris asked, finishing the food he just ate.
“oh yeah, sorry i’m in my own world,” i pushed the eggs around on my plate.
i can feel matt’s eyes on me as chris asks if i’m sure. i stood up and walked over to the garbage, scraping my food into the trash. i heard someone get up from the table and felt them behind me.
“why’d you lie to him?” it was matt.
“i don’t know why you care.” i shrugged, trying to act like it doesn’t matter.
“of course i care, y/n,” he said in disbelief, “why wouldn’t i?”
i felt my heart drop but i just shook my head, walking away.
୭ৎ୭ৎ୭ৎ
walking to my car, i felt a slight sprinkling of rain hit my face. disregarding it, i got in my car and starting driving home.
halfway to my house i saw matt’s contact popping up on the screen in my car.
’matt!! is calling’
i didn’t answer, half focused on the pounding rain on the road and half because i did not want to talk to him at the moment. after the ringing stopped, i turned up the music and kept driving, not being able to stop thinking about him.
‘matt!! sent you a message’
i ignored it.
‘matt!! sent you a message’
i grabbed my phone and shut it off.
turning down my road, the rain started to let up a little bit. i passed my driveway, not wanting to go home just yet. i circled my neighborhood for a few minutes before going home, dreading turning my phone back on.
once i walked in, i immediately got in the shower, not bothering to turn my phone on. i needed five minutes to myself without him texting or calling me. i couldn’t stop the events of last night replaying in my mind.
getting out of the shower, i started trying to decide what movie i should watch. changing into shorts and a big shirt, i got into my bed. i decided on watching shutter island, considering i was just ranting about it the night before.
i decided to turn my phone back on, finding eleven messages and three missed calls from matt.
‘are you okay?’
‘hello?’
‘y/n answer me please’
‘look it was raining pretty hard i just want to know if you’re okay’
“y/n’
‘i’m seriously getting worried.’
‘please just text me’
‘or just like a message.’
‘please.
‘i’m sorry’
‘i'm coming over’
the last message was sent at 11:26 a.m. i looked at the time and it was 11:47 a.m.
tag list:
@beersangel @whoseyouare @wh0schl0 @st7rnioioss @slutsformatt @h3arts4harry @matthewscherrypie @satvisfavetoodles @secret-sturniolo @mattsturniololoverr @blablablabla2525 @melanch0lybby @always-reading @bbernard-03
#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo fic#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo fic#chris sturniolo imagine#nick sturniolo#nick sturniolo fic#nick sturniolo imagine#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo triplet fic#sturniolo triplet imagine
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˗ˋ where’s the trophy? he just comes running over to me ˊ˗
warnings: literally none, this is tooth-rotting fluff
pairing: luke castellan x daughter of demeter
summary: the three times luke knew he was in love with you and the one time he told you
1. your beautiful eyes stare right into my eyes
trying to pretend your best friend (aka your crush) wasn’t staring at you was almost impossible. it was even more difficult when he was sitting directly next to you, and you couldn’t help the pink hue making its way to your cheeks
you thought he wouldn’t notice because the sun had set and the only lights were the moon and the fire in front of you
but he did.
“what’re you thinking about?” luke asks, nudging your shoulder with his own
“nothing, just watching the stars” you quickly pull you gaze down from the sky to the boy beside you
“are you in love with them?” he teases
“shut up” you laugh
“well why are you blushing? do you have a crush?” he pokes your cheeks, but you slap his hand away
“I’m not blushing, it’s just hot” you make up an excuse
“it’s cold outside” he stated
“I have a sweatshirt on, einstein” you roll your eyes
“then why are you still wearing it?” he inquired, giving you a confused look
“It smells like you, I like it” you bite your bottom lip
and know it’s lukes turn to blush
“are you in love?” you joked
but he knew the answer to it. the real answer, he was in love, so so deep, and he wanted to tell you since the first day your gaze met his but he didn’t want to risk a perfect friendship, so he stayed silent, hoping one day you would realize how much he truly loved you
“possibly”
2. so make the friendship bracelets
you had spent the past hour trying to make this bracelet perfect. you wanted to make it for luke for no specific reason, at first you were doing it because you were bored, but as more time passed you thought you should make it for someone else
and who’s better to make it for than your best friend?
“hey flower, what’re you up to? I haven’t seen you all day”
speaking of
he takes a seat beside you on the grass
“I’ve been busy” you say, not taking your eyes off the bracelet as you finish tying it up
“did you eat today? you weren’t at breakfast” he questions
“no, skipped. wanted to make a bracelet,” you take his arm and slid the bracelet around his wrist, “for you”
you look up at him only to find him already looking at you with the most lovestruck expression ever, and you blush madly at this
“It’s beautiful” he whispers, not once looking down at the bracelet
and oh gods you could have passed out right there
and as for luke, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, no matter how hard he tried (which wasn’t very hard, he wishes he could stare at you for the rest of eternity) his eyes were permanently glued to yours
3. I’m sinking, our fingers entwined
counselor duties had been called off for the day and you thanked the gods for that, these kids are absolutely exhausting
you walk over to the nearest tree and lean against it for a moment, taking a moment to breath
“hey stranger”
oh that voice
“hi luke” you beam
“what’re you doing here? you don’t want the harpies to get you, do you?” he teases
“you’re out here too” you point out
he shrugs, “c’mon I’ll walk you back to your cabin”
he holds out his hand for you and you take it without hesitation.
It’s so warm is the first thing you think. it’s comforting, and you wish his hand could always be intertwined with yours
and of course, luke thinks the same. he could die happy if his last moments were spent holding your hand.
the walk back to your cabin was silent, but not awkward, you both enjoyed just being in each other’s presences, even if that mean you weren’t talking
this was enough
“here we are” he remarked
“yep… I’ll see you in the morning?” you ask
“always” luke smiles and gives you that same lovesick expression he always does
and you can’t fight the large grin making its way to your face, “goodnight luke” you whisper
“goodnight flower”
and he doesn’t untangle his fingers from yours until he’s to far from you to touch them
4. the sign on your heart said it’s still reserved for me
you weren’t the biggest fan of capture the flag, but you knew it always made luke happy when you did
so you played
the majority of the game you sat and watched, looking out for anyone on the opposing team until you heard horns, signaling that the game was over
you quickly sit up, running to wear you hear cheers, hoping it’s from your team
and it is.
you reach the crowd, eyes meeting the chocolate brown ones you loved
you reach luke, swiftly throwing your arms around his neck, and he wastes no time in dropping the flag, putting his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer
“I’m proud of you” you say pulling away, arms still around each other
luke is wishes he knew where this confidence came from, but seeing you so close to him, a large smile on your face, and the save lovesick expression he always gives you in your eyes this time, he can’t wait any longer
“I’m in love with you” he blurts out
your eyes widen at those words, and you stay like that for a moment, but you knew this, didn’t you? you always saw it in his eyes
and you pull him in for a sweet, long-awaited kiss
it was as perfect as you imagined, the kiss, the boy, the moment, everything
#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo series#pjo tv show#pjo fandom#percy jackson#pjo#pjo spoilers#percy series#pjo disney+#luke castellan#pjo fanfic#pjo x reader#pjo hoo toa#luke castellan x you#luke castellan fluff#luke castellan fic#luke castellan x reader
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He Doesn't Know That I Turned into an Animal - Roger Barel (Part 1)
As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. None of my translations are proofread until a day after posting
(Mm…I should get up and get ready)
It’s been a while since I had a free day. It was such a nice day, perfect for going out.
…And then I felt something squirming about on my butt.
(Huh? There’s something weird about my body…)
Feeling uneasy, I got out of bed and the moment I looked in the mirror, any morning drowsiness left disappeared.
Kate: Arf…arf?! (Wha…What the?!)
In the mirror was an adorable golden-brown corgi with round eyes.
What I felt moving on my butt earlier was a short corgi tail.
(I’m a dog?! What do I do…Am I dreaming?!)
(I need to get help…!)
--
(I’m out in the hall now, but who do I go to…?)
Liam: Huh? It’s an adorable little doggie! What’s it doing here?
Harrison: Did someone bring it here…?
Kate: Woof! Woofwoof! (Liam! Harrison!)
Glad to see the two, I rushed over to them.
Liam: Wow, it’s so friendly and cute. I wonder if it’s lost?
Harrison: It’s a corgi, right? Roger’s “Ale”* is also a corgi.
Liam: …Then I wonder if this pup’s Roger’s corgi? Let’s ask.
Are you Roger’s?
Liam crouched down to meet my gaze.
Kate: Arf…arf! (No…I’m Kate!)
Liam: Hm. Sorry, I don’t understand, I don’t speak dog.
Harrison: …Then why’d you even ask?
(I’ve really turned into a dog…)
It’s not due to Alfons’ power or a dream…
(How did this happen…?)
Harrison: For now, let’s bring it to Roger.
--
Liam: Roger, you here~?
Roger: What, you get hurt again?
When Roger turned around and saw me in Liam’s arms…his eyes widened with surprise.
Roger: You…!
(Maybe Roger realizes that it’s me?!)
Roger: You’re soooooo cuuuuuute!
Roger smiled widely and began petting me everywhere.
Roger: Who’s a good dog? You are!
(So aggressive…!)
Roger: You’re so cute…Can I give you a kiss?
Kate: Grrrr (Ab-so-lute-ly not!!)
Roger: No? Then can I smell you?
(What kind of compromise is that?!)
In my confusion, Roger buried his face in the neck and took a big whiff.
Roger: Ahh…the smell of dogs…! The best medicine out there!
(I’ve never seen Roger like this before…)
Roger: Phew… So, who’s dog is this?
Liam: I thought the little one was yours. It’s not?
Roger: Nope, not ours. We don’t have a lot of dogs.
So…Are you lost~? You poor thing~
With a smile…No, with a lovestruck look on his face, Roger started petting me again.
He was probably concerned about me being a lost dog…but petting was his priority.
(This is my first time seeing Roger be so affectionate with a dog, and it surprised me at first. But now…I don’t know…)
(It feels so good getting pet…)
Liam: Ah, the doggie’s wagging its tail! Looks like it likes Roger.
Roger: Oh…you like me? Haha, you’re so cute!
He suddenly lifted me out of Liam’s arms.
Maybe it’s because he’s so used to handling dogs, but the way he picked me up gave a sense of stability and security.
Roger: Hmm…
Kate: …?
Roger: You don’t have any, so you’re a girl.
Kate: Yip! (Don’t look!)
Roger: Oops, sorry.
(Even though I’m a dog, I can’t believe you looked at my butt…)
(It somehow feels like I lost something important…)
Roger: Don’t look so down. I won’t do it again.
Harrison: So, can you look after the dog, Roger? We got a mission.
Roger: With a dog this cute, I can take care of countless of them.
Oh, that’s right. Have you seen the lil’ lady?
I wanted her to help out with an experiment, but she wasn’t in the dining room at breakfast.
Harrison: Nope, haven’t seen her.
Liam: She has the day off so she’ls probably sleeping in?
Roger: Then I’ll let her sleep.
Kate: Arf arf! Arf arf! (I’m right here! Here!)
Roger: I know. We gotta find your owner today, don’t we?
(You didn’t understand me at all…!)
--
And so Roger went around asking everyone in Crown about the corgi.
But I’m not a lost dog, so there’s no owner to find…
Roger: If no one knows you, then you must’ve wandered in from outside.
Kate: Awoo…(It’s not that…)
Roger: I’ll find your owner so cheer up.
Roger patted my head as if to make me feel better.
(Ugh…I really can’t resist this feeling…!)
My short tail started wagging and Roger smiled at the sight.
Roger: You’re getting used to me now. Will you let me kiss you soon?
Kate: Grrr! (No!)
Roger: Not yet…Well, a girl’s kiss should be saved for a prince, shouldn’t it?
(I wonder if Roger’s being so romantic because he’s talking to a dog…)
Roger: Well, since you’re from outside, there’s someone I want you to meet.
Be a good girl and wait for a moment?
Kate: Arf! (Got it!)
Roger: Oh, a nice response.
Roger petted me, attached a collar around my neck, tied a leash to the stair railing, and left.
A while later…
Roger: Sorry for the wait.
Kate: Arf! Arf…(Welcome back! Ro…ger…)
???: Arf! Aarf! (Who’re you? Never seen you before!)
When Roger came back, he brought a corgi with him.
The corgi circled me in excitement.
Kate: A-arf…?! (The dog’s talking…?!)
???: Arf? Arf! (What’re you talking about? You’re a dog too!)
(That’s right, since I’m a dog now, I understand dogs…)
Roger: This guy’s Ale, my family’s dog.
Ale: Arf! Woof?! (I’m Ale! What’s your name?)
Kate: …Arf (...I’m Kate)
Ale: Woof! (Nice to meet you!)
Roger: Ale’s got a habit of circling around any dog or person he meets for the first time.
I brought him over from my folks’ place to have him check if you’re from around here…
But it looks like it’s the first time you two are meeting. So…you’re not from around here. This is bad.
Roger scratched his head and sighed.
Roger: Nah, can’t give up now. Let’s go on a walk.
Dogs know how to find their way home. Maybe you’ll remember on a walk.
--
Thinking I was a lost dog, Roger took me out on a dog walking route.
Of course, Ale was with us.
Roger: Anything ring a bell?
Kate: Awoo…(No…)
(I’m making trouble for Roger by looking for a nonexistent owner…)
(I need to work on making him understand that I’m Kate…!)
(And to do that…)
Roger: What’s up? If you’re running off like that, then…Do you know where your home is?
Kate: Arf! (Yes!)
As I ran down the road in this body of mine, Roger naturally followed after.
Ale: Woof woof! (I’m not gonna let you get away!)
And so, we arrived at—
Roger: …Crown castle?
(This is my home…so please realize that it’s me, Roger!)
Roger: The fact that we came back here…You really don’t know how to get home, do you?
(He still doesn’t get it…)
Ale: Woof woof! (I’m hungry after all that running!)
Roger: Can’t do anything else now… I’m sure you’re beat after today, so I’ll take you back to Crown.
--
Roger: Time to eat. You two, “stay”.
Roger left Ale and I in the dining room and headed to the kitchen.
(What will he prepare for us? Not human food, right?)
Ale: Woof woof! (Roger’s great at cooking!)
Ale sounded very proud when talking about Roger.
(Roger must’ve doted on him a lot while Ale was growing up…)
Ale: Woof? (You can’t eat until Roger gives you the ‘okay’, got it?)
Arf! (That’s how you show respect to the cook!)
Kate: A-arf! (G-got it!)
Roger: Sorry for the wait. I made you two dinner.
(Roger’s cooking? T-this is…!)
He brought out plates of stewed meat and vegetables chopped into small pieces.
(It smells good...Looks delicious)
Ale: Awoo! (Come on, come on!)
Ale jumped around Roger’s feet as if he couldn’t wait any longer.
Roger: Haha, calm down Ale. I’m bringing you down to the infirmary first.
--
Roger: Sit, wait… Okay, go ahead!
At Roger’s signal, we started eating.
(I never thought this would be how I’d try Roger’s cooking…)
(It’s dog food, but it’s really food)
I was so mentally exhausted and the delicious food prepared with care filled my body.
Ale: Woof? Woof? (You haven’t finished your food. Need help?)
Having already finished his food, Ale nudged my plate with his nose.
Roger: Come on, Ale. You already ate.
Roger pulled Ale away, allowing me to finish my food in peace.
Kate: Arf (Thank you for the food)
Roger: You ate well. I’m glad you have an appetite.
Now let’s clean this up and then…
Victor: Roger! Do you have a moment?
Victor came down to the infirmary and called out ot Roger with a serious look on his face.
Roger: Yeah.
…You two be good and wait, okay?
After Roger and Victor left the basement, Ale started talking to me.
Ale: Woof woof! (Roger’s a great guy and a great cook!)
Kate: Arf (You’re right. I was surprised by how delicious it was)
Ale: Arf. Arf! (Right? Roger’s amazing!)
Ale sat proudly as if talking about himself.
Ale: Arf! Arf! (Oh! Let me tell you about the time I met Roger!)
~~ Flashback in Ale’s POV ~~
—It was when I was a small puppy.
Before meeting Roger, I lived with another man.
(I’m so hungry… It feels like I haven’t eaten in a while…)
Puppy: Awoo…(Hey, hey, is there food?)
I nudged at the man lying on the bed with my nose. But he didn’t move a muscle.
(Haven’t you been sleeping for the past few days? Why?)
(You’re cold. I guess I’ll warm you up!)
Avoiding the bottles of alcohol littered around the room, I jumped onto the bed and snuggled the man.
He usually got mad at me when I got on the bed with my dirty paws, but he didn’t say anything today.
(Hey, wake up already)
(If you’re so bored every day that you can only drink, then I’ll play with you)
How much time’s passed?
Just as I was about to pass out from starvation, someone pounded on the door.
Roger: It’s Roger! You there?!
Don’t be so pessimistic about your life. I’m cursed like you—
—Anyway, let me explain in person! If you’re pretending you’re out, I’m kicking down your door!
After shouting, there was a crack and the door broke, allowing a man with glasses to come in.
Puppy: Arf arf! (Who’re you!)
I circled around the man with glasses.
It’s a habit I still have, circling new people and dogs as a precaution.
Roger: A dog…? You’re so thin. Where’s your owner…
The man with glasses looked up at the bed and gasped.
Puppy: Arf! Arf! (He’s been sleeping forever! Wake him up!)
Roger: Ah, damn it! I was too late…
If I came sooner, I might’ve been able to stop him…
Puppy: …
Awoo…? (Do you mean he might not wake up again…?)
Roger: Sorry I couldn’t save your owner…
~~ Flashback end ~~
Ale: Arf (And that’s how Roger and I met)
(It happened like that…)
Ale: Woof… (My previous owner stopped moving on his bed on the night of a thunderstorm)
Arf! (I’m still scared of thunder so Roger covers my ears!)
Kate: Arf (That’s kind of him)
Ale: Arf? Woof! (Right? If you know Roger’s good points, then you’re a good guy!)
After that, Roger returned to the infirmary.
Roger: Oh? You two are getting along well already? That’s good.
(...Huh? Why do you look so down, Roger?)
(What did Victor say?)
Ale: Woof woof! (This girl’s a good one, so I want her to be your wife!)
Kate: Yip!? (What are you talking about, Ale!?)
Ale: Arf! Arf! (Wife! Wife!)
I frantically chased after Ale who was spouting nonsense.
Roger: Haha, are you playing tag? It’s nice to see you so full of energy.
(Right now I’m glad Roger doesn’t understand dog…)
Roger: For now…
Let’s go take a bath.
*Roger’s dog’s name is written as エール, which I’m translating as “Ale”
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Stolas and Blitz’s relationship is a really well written misunderstanding plot, and here’s why
I didn’t exactly have bad expectations about the Full Moon episode, yet I find myself pleasantly surprised by just how well the show handled the final confrontation between Stolas and Blitz. It was perfectly tragic and, most importantly, it perfectly fits how their relationship was built up to this point.
But how did Stolas get to this point?
Stolas has been starved for love since he was a child. His father only knew how to buy Stolas’ stuff to distract him from his distress (whenever Paimon bothered to even be around). Stolas’ wife – whom he did not choose – disdained him and did not miss a chance to humiliate him. He used to have a good relationship with his daughter, even though things got more complicated as she grew up and started to realize that her parents hate each other; but having your own child love you isn’t the same as having someone love you because you are you.
And then, out of nowhere, This Guy whom he considers his first friend - someone who was at the center of one of the best memories from his childhood - sneaks into his house and tries to seduce him!! Needless to say, Stolas is taken by surprise!
He even tries to talk to Blitz at first, and asks him about his life. He wants a connection, but Blitz just kinda pushes Stolas on his bed and starts doing sexy things to him, while dodging his questions. And, well, Stolas has never had good sex before that moment! His only experience is with a woman who does not like him and whom he doesn’t like. He gets swept away! Turns out, kinky sex really does it for him, and Blitz just Keeps Going all night!
Now, we don’t get to see how Stolas reacted when he figured out that Blitz was there to steal his book. The next thing we know (which is actually the first time the audience is introduced to Stolas) is that he is determined not to let that night with Blitz be the last. And who knows, even if Blitz had an ulterior motive for that first night, Stolas could still have a chance to seduce him! But how to do that? Well, the only thing Stolas knows about Blitz is that he really seemed to be into kinky sex and dirty talk…. So, Stolas goes for that!
After a while, though, he realizes it isn’t working. Plus, as much as the sex is good, what he really wants from Blitz is romance! So, he tries changing his approach, he introduces the idea of dates, of staying at home without fucking… But every time Stolas tries to change things, Blitz is resistant.
Stolas has many flaws. He is unaware of his privilege, he can be entitled, too self-centered… but one thing he is not, at least, is clueless about his own feelings. Stolas knows he loves Blitz, he knows he wants them to be together, and so he spends a long time trying to figure out how to confess, how to convince Blitz that his feelings are sincere…
In a way, it’s all that planning that dooms him. He spends so much time thinking things over, finding the perfect words, the perfect selfless act to confess to Blitz and set him free, that he does not realize that his confession will come out of nowhere for Blitz. And that Blitz will not have had hours and hours to rehearse his own reaction!
To be fair to him, Blitz truly is spectacularly clueless – to the level that it’s difficult to understand, without knowing his history - when it comes to his own feelings…
Right, how did Blitz get to this point?
The first time Blitz met Stolas, as a child, Blitz’s father had literally sold him as entertainment, and then ordered Blitz to steal from Stolas' house. “Go make yourself useful for once.” “It’s what those rich privileged fuckers deserve.”
Blitz grows up in an environment where his own father prefers another child to him. His only worth to his dad is to be a trading card, and to be an instrument to get rich.
Blitz doesn’t grow completely without love, tho! He knows what it is like to be loved. He has a best friend, his twin sister, his mother… And then he manages to lose all three of them in one single, spectacular accident. And it was an accident! But it was also his fault. And that’s the night Blitz learns that nobody can love him for long, because he does not deserve it. Even if someone did care for him, eventually they will realize he is worthless and dangerous.
Blitz hates himself.
Still, he does what he has to do to survive, and he goes on.
Years pass, and Blitz is trying to achieve his oldest dream, the dream to be his own boss, to lead a successful business, to prove that he can do something right. He needs Stolas’ book to achieve his dream, so what? It’s what those rich privileged fuckers deserve. He can make himself useful for once.
Does Blitz understand that it’s not Stolas himself who bought him all those years ago, but rather his father? It doesn’t really matter in the end, the only thing that’s important is that he knows that if he distracts Stolas enough, it’s not that hard to steal from him. If he sells himself, he can get anything out of Stolas.
The sex an accident, in the end. Stolas suggests Blitz is there to seduce him (Stolas is joking, but Blitz doesn't realize that), so Blitz goes for that. He bites Stolas’ neck to distract him from the theft, and Stolas reacts to that! Blitz can use this! He just happens to encourage Stolas when Stolas talks dirty to him, he doesn’t know he’s the one planting the idea in Stolas’ brain.
And Blitz could leave Stolas tied up and flee with the book, but at the end he feels bad. He decides to fuck Stolas after all, and well… That wasn’t so bad. He was supposed to do it “real fast”, but ends up spending the whole night!
Still, what if the sex was good? Stolas is still an entitled and powerful prince. And Stolas’ behavior in the following months only confirms that the other demon is just using him! And when Stolas’ actions start to change, well, surely that’s just some new kink, some new game…
Blitz constantly confirms his own biases, and he is incapable of seeing beyond them. He expects to be used because he has been used so many times, ever since he was a child. He doesn’t expect to be loved, because he doesn’t believe anyone can love him.
And if he starts to enjoy the time he spends with Stolas, at least sometimes, well….. That’s just the good sex. Plus, he feels powerful, when he’s fucking Stolas. Not only because Blitz dominates him in bed, but also because this is an arrangement he entered of his own free will, and he’s the one directly benefiting from it.
And! Isn’t it easier this way??? Relationships are messy! This arrangement, tho, no feelings involved, at all! He can push Stolas around as much as he wants, and Stolas will let him.
(Stolas cannot get hurt, after all.)
(He can get hurt??)
Blitz has many flaws. Being clueless about his feelings, and other people’s feelings, is maybe his biggest flaw. Stolas’ confession comes out of nowhere from him. He is confused. Nobody can love him, so it is a game, right?
It’s not a game. Where did this “confession” come from? He’s mad now. Stolas broke the rules, Stolas is using him again, somehow, Stolas… Stolas is crying.
It’s not a trick.
Their whole relationship has been a huge misunderstanding since day 1, and Blitz only just realized.
And Stolas sent Blitz away before he had time to realize, as well.
#a lot of feelings and thoughs about Them#helluva boss#helluva boss spoilers#blitzø#helluva blitz#stolas#helluva stolas#stolitz#full moon#stolas x blitz#full moon spoilers
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Sportsmanlike
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Rating | Mature
Summary | Young passionate tennis players messing around with lots of plot and complexity.
Pairing | f!Original Character x Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan x Patrick Zweig
Word Count | 3.7K
Tags | Tennis, Competition, Love Triangles (Squares?), Jealousy, Plot, Emotional Infidelity, Eventual smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Relationships
Author's note | I haven written anything in FOREVER. I'm still such a noob at tumblr and it still confuses me (I'm loyal to ao3), so I wasn't sure of what the best way to organize this was. There will be multiple chapters.
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Sportsmanlike on AO3 | Chapter 1 - US Open 2006, Chapter 2 - Finalist Fusion, ...
US Open, 2006
Her
Not everyone is eligible to play in the US Open Tennis. The event is exclusive to players who have earned a certain ranking, as well as a few slots offered by invitation. That’s how she finds herself competing after having received a 'wild card' invitation. Surrounded by a supportive network of people who believe in her skills, she’s being pushed into the prestigious fourth and final Grand Slam tournament of the year—even though she is still technically considered an 'amateur'. In fact, it feels like everyone around her believes in her abilities more than she does herself.
She feels strangely out of place among the other players, all fully devoted worshipers of the sport. Her entourage is composed of tennis fanatics—who live and breathe the sport—while she feels disconnected from it all. Her skills are sure to be praised, but deep down, she still feels like she doesn't belong. Unlike them, tennis isn't the center of her life. She doesn't rely on tennis for survival—in fact, she wouldn't mind if it vanished, which sets her apart from the fiercely competitive and confrontational athletes.
Nonetheless, she plays well. Perhaps too well for someone who doesn’t take it as seriously as her opponents. It seems almost unfair how easily she gets through each round.
Her heart races as she wins match after match. The contrast between her polite, gracious demeanor and the fiery, hot-tempered reactions of her competitors is stark. Some throw fits of rage and tantrums. She can't help but offer sincere apologies and genuine praise to everyone she encounters, even in the most intense moments of the game. As the sweat drips down her forehead, she smiles coyly and humbly accepts the accolades, feeling a mix of exhilaration and sheepishness.
Art and Patrick
The umpire's voice echoes through the stadium, making the final announcements to the crowd as the eager spectators find their seats. Patrick adjusts his position beside Art, spreading his legs casually. Art, meanwhile, plays with the tag displayed around his neck, his eyes darting around the sea of merchandise that carries the "US Open 2006" logo. The atmosphere is thick with anticipation and excitement.
“D’you know about her opponent?” Patrick asks after letting out a small burp, gesturing towards Anna Mueler as she emerges onto the court, her entrance acknowledged by the applause and cheers of the crowd, and with her waving back in response.
“What about her?” Art replies indifferently.
“She’s a wild card; they brought her out, and nobody really knows who she is, but she’s been killing it. I’m just eager to see what she’s all about.”
“Huh.” Art remarks, narrowing his eyes a little.
They both shift their focus back to the court as the umpire announces her presence. Unlike Mueler, her entrance is reserved and humble, merely offering a modest wave to her coach as she acknowledges the applause. While her demeanor may be understated, there’s a sense of graciousness.
She strides onto her side of the court, grabbing her racket. Her copper hair is messily pinned into a casual ponytail, with a smattering of freckles dusting her shoulders, revealing her toned physique. Her simple dark green outfit clings to the contours of her figure—though her appearance is less formal compared to other female players, there’s an undeniable charm to her aloof demeanor, drawing them in.
Patrick leans in, studying her intently upon her settling into position. Art does the same by resting his elbows on his knees.
“She’s a pretty thing, too.” Patrick turns his head over at Art with a smug grin.
Art doesn’t reply but he sure can’t disagree.
“Ready? Play.”
The game starts as Anna Mueler serves, with virtually no dramatic build-up—Art and Patrick's eyes dart incessantly between the two. The atmosphere is almost eerily silent, save for the sounds of racket impacts and grunts of exertion from the competitors. They observe with bated breath, captivated by the swift movement of her legs as she dances across the court, her fiery locks swishing back and forth in sync with her brief skirt fluttering about, revealing the shorts hidden underneath.
She scores her third point, marking a victorious blow against Mueler with a powerful one-handed backhand. Her movements are noticeably disorganized and bordering on sloppy, and yet, to her advantage, it seems to be playing off brilliantly .
“Holy shit.” Art mutters, undeniably taken aback.
Patrick smugly looks toward Art, wearing a "told you so" expression on his face. As they lean in to get a closer look, their mouths hang slightly open, both fixated on the ongoing match. The intensity of her actions is so captivating that it borders on pathetic as they watch, their eyes glued to her every move. With each passing minute, their gazes follow the way her rosy cheeks redden and her breaths grow increasingly labored.
Surprisingly, she doesn't appear to be nearly as exhausted as Mueler, even despite her unstructured, chaotic playing style. She graciously acknowledges each point won by her opponent, a polite nod or smile as Mueler gains momentum. Her attitude leaves Patrick utterly amazed—given his past moments of unsportsmanlike behavior.
“How the fuck is she so unbothered?” Patrick ogles at her, his head unintentionally tipping to the side as he takes in her every move.
Unsurprisingly, he receives no reply from Art, as his awestruck state turns him speechless.
Mueler, her opponent, lashes out in absolute disbelief after the final point is scored, impulsively smashing her racket against the court floor in a fit of frustration.
She flashes a smug, coy smile as she glances at her coach, as though downplaying her victory like a stroke of pure luck. She ambles towards the net, extending her hand towards her defeated opponent, only to have it rebuffed with a heated outburst in a foreign language as Mueler storms away in a huff. She’s quickly interrupted as her friends, family, and well-wishers swarm around to celebrate her win.
As Art exhales deeply, Patrick locks eyes with him, his grin crooked but full of enthusiasm. “We’ve gotta talk to her.”
Tashi
Tashi Duncan seemed to have beat them to it.
“Hey,” She says as she approaches her after the crowd of family and friends has dissipated from her entourage. “Great game. You absolutely killed Anna.”
She meets Tashi’s eye with a warm, contagious beam, her cheeks flushed with a mix of lingering exertion from the match and genuine happiness at the interaction. She giggles softly, letting her bag fall gently to the ground as she tentatively steps forward, wholly captivated by their interaction. "I feel bad," she admits with a sheepish half-smile, her laughter bubbling up as she feels Tashi's gaze linger on her.
“Don’t.” Tashi replies, unfazed. “She’s a sore loser and a racist bitch, anyway.”
Her laughter continues to fill the air, even as a hint of tension underlies Tashi’s words. Sensing the need to maintain composure, she tries to keep her nerves in check, reminding herself that they're only facing each other in the finals—easy-peasy.
“I’ve, uh—been watching your games, too.” She breaks the slightly uneasy silence with sincere appreciation, her smile slightly crooked as she tries to hide any hint of infatuation. "You’re incredible," she says admiringly, looking up at Tashi and attempting to mask any potential starstruckness in her eyes.
Tashi's gaze remains unwavering for a moment before she softly breaks into a gentle smile.
“I’m kind of on the fence about playing against you.” She instinctively reaches up to scratch the back of her neck in a self-conscious manner, and a soft chuckle escapes her lips.
Despite the growing sense of ease, a hint of insecurity still lingers, as if she's silently questioning if she's made a good impression thus far. It’s Tashi Duncan, after all.
“Why? Scared I’m gonna wipe you out?” There's a hint of challenge in Tashi's voice as she responds.
To her surprise, her opponent's response is one of continuous admiration—it's rare to see such genuine enthusiasm, and it's almost contagious in its sweetness.
“I’d actually prefer that.” She continues to look at her with a sort of fascination. “It probably means more to you than it does to me, and—” she hesitates for a second, “I wanna stay on good terms with you.” She can feel herself blush a little. “—Hopefully.”
Their whole interaction is refreshing to Tashi.
“Oh, so you’re thinking of going easy on me?”
“I don’t think I’ll need to.”
A silent understanding seems to form between them, a bond taking shape through the few words they've shared. The smiles they exchange are genuine, laced with a subtle sense of kinship. Perhaps it's the shared adrenaline of the game, or maybe it's the knowledge that they'll soon be competing against each other in the finals—whatever the reason, there's an undeniable connection forming.
“You coming to the party on Long Island? Adidas sponsorship.” Tashi asks, breaking the silence once again.
A flicker of excitement dances in her eyes as she hears the question. "Oh, I doubt I was invited—Or maybe my coach just forgot to mention it.” She lets out a nervous chuckle.
“Fuck your coach.” Tashi shrugs nonchalantly, her hands disappearing into her pockets. “I'm the one inviting you.”
She smiles and nods in return. “Then I’ll be there. For sure, yeah.”
Tashi, amused by her opponent's excitement, can't help but wear a smirk on her face.
-
Fire and Ice
Donaldson & Zweig vs. Shaffer & Buchanan.
This match determines whether Art and Patrick make it to the finals, a pivotal moment in their journey and a do-or-die scenario that determines their fate. The two of them are fully focused on the game; their expressions are a mixture of determination and playfulness. Art's golden hair is tucked away behind the white cap he wears backwards, while Patrick's dark curls bounce around as he moves, his features framed by the shadows cast by the bright lights of the court. They exchange smug grins and nudge each other occasionally, a bond of support and friendship that makes their journey through the tournament all the more enjoyable.
From their vantage points in the crowd, she and Tashi watch intently, their eyes fixed on the match unfolding before them. You would expect a fierce rivalry between two opponents in such high-pressure situations.
Yet, there they are, sitting side by side, their gazes glued to the court.
Sure, they had only met yesterday, and their situation had already become somewhat volatile due to public opinion, but she had no intentions of outshining Tashi—leaving a lasting impression on Tashi—a sense of mutual respect and admiration cancelling out any potential rivalry.
As she reaches for her cup, she feels the unexpected touch of Tashi's hand on her knee—a small gesture that sends a rush of warmth through her body. Who knew such a simple gesture of physical touch from Tashi Duncan could be so exhilarating.
Tashi leans into her, pointing down at the court in full focus mode. “The blonde one; look at how receptive he is.”
She can’t help but smile a little at her level of focus. She also can’t deny how beautiful she looks when she’s like this. Leaning in in return, she tilts her head slightly and nods towards where Tashi is pointing.
She takes a moment to admire Tashi's intense concentration, her smile growing wider as she admires how beautiful she looks when she’s focused. She leans in closer, her head tilting slightly as she follows Tashi's gaze. A slight nod of her own acknowledges Tashi's observations, a mutual understanding as their minds sync in the moment, focused on the same objective.
“Your bet is on those two?”
“Hm,” Tashi leans back a little, a thoughtful expression on her face. “The other one’s nailing those dropshots.”
She follows Tashi's gaze intently, her own eyes flickering from left to right as she takes in every move on the court.
“They’re good.” She watches the dynamic between the duo below with a hint of surprise, her eyes widening at their unexpected coordination. She turns her head towards Tashi, unable to resist the sly smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Never as good as you, though.”
Tashi eyes her suspiciously, her gaze narrowing as she attempts to decipher the real motive behind her compliment. "Are you trying to butter me up for some kind of weird strategy reason?" she asks, her tone a mix of seriousness and playfulness.
There's a trace of amusement in her eyes as she waits for a response, clearly enjoying the banter and the lightheartedness of their interaction.
She chuckles through her nose, shaking her head slowly before she responds genuinely, “You know you’re going to win tomorrow. I have no ulterior motives.”
Tashi leans in closer, her hand brushing a little higher on her opponent's leg, a hint of challenge in her voice as she teases her. "Playing little miss humble, are we?" The touch is subtle yet deliberate, and her words carry a hint of competitiveness.
She laughs softly in return, her cheeks flushing slightly at the unexpected touch from Tashi. She takes a breath, her voice filled with determination. "I'm serious," she reiterates, her eyes locked on Tashi's. "Even if I feel like I am going to win, I’ll hold back."
Tashi pauses for a moment, a slight furrow in her brow, a hint of surprise tinged with doubt as she looks at her counterpart.
“I don’t want you to let me win. I want to win.”
“And you will.” She responds without missing a beat, her gaze locking with Tashi's in a way that speaks volumes—as if she had forever been loyal to her.
The bleachers erupt in applause as Patrick scores the final point, the sound drowning out the intense moment between the two girls. The blond boy sprints towards his partner, the duo celebrating and laughing uncontrollably, their joy infectious in the moment.
The sight brings a smile to both girls' faces.
“Well, we’ve got our finalists.” She raises an eyebrow at Tashi, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Fire and Ice," she muses, a sly grin spreading across her face. "I've always preferred the heat." She leans back slightly, her braid cascading over her shoulder.
“And I’ve always preferred the cold.” She replies, her voice filled with teasing enthusiasm.
Long Island, pre-finals party
Tashi and her girl
She stands amidst the gathering of tennis enthusiasts, friends, and family, her heart pounding with both excitement and anticipation. The prospect of mingling with the elite in the tennis world is both intimidating and thrilling. The combination of nerves and anticipation dances in her chest, fueling her determination to make the most of the night.
Tashi's heels click against the pavement as she approaches, a seductive whistle escaping her lips as her eyes rake over her opponent's figure. A confident smirk plays at her lips as she takes in the sight of her, her approach oozing with charm and assertiveness.
Her voice drops to a low, playful tone, a mixture of charm and shyness lacing her words as she responds with a simple "Hi."
Tashi looks stunning in the strapless royal blue dress, her hair down and loose curls cascading around her face while the redhead in front of her wears an equally beautiful gown, her hair pinned up with a couple of strands falling loosely by the sides of her face.
She's taken aback for a moment as Tashi steps closer, her heart skipping a beat as she finds herself enveloped in a tight embrace. The unexpected hug leaves her slightly flustered, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly.
“Glad you could make it.” Tashi's breath is warm against her ear, the smirk on Tashi's face only intensifying.
“You look fucking amazing.” She chuckles nervously, her attempt to hide her infatuation with Tashi failing miserably.
Hand in hand, they navigate their way towards the dance floor, their fingers intertwined as they make a brief stop at the nearest drink stand. With a playful glance, they mix a dash of liquor into their soft drinks in hopes of not being caught. As they weave through the crowd, Tashi regales her with juicy secrets and gossip about the event sponsors and attendees, their conversation flowing effortlessly, and—once again, paradoxically—it feels like there’s no sense of rivalry between them whatsoever.
Patrick and Art
The two boys stand a couple feet away from the main crowd, their gazes pathetically locked on the two girls dancing together on the makeshift dance floor. Patrick holds the bottle of his Coca-Cola up to his mouth, a tiny sigh escaping his lips as he watches them from afar. Art, meanwhile, has one hand casually shoved in the pocket of his jeans, the other holding his drink.
Art leans in, a hint of surprise in his voice, "I didn't know she was friends with Tashi Duncan."
“Girls are like that; they act nice to each other all the time. They probably hate each other.” Patrick chimes in, sharing his theory about the girls' behavior.
“No way, man.” Art shakes his head. “Look at them; they look like—like they’ve known each other forever.”
Patrick playfully nudges his friend's arm, his smirk widening as he suggests, “Like us?” He looks back in their direction. “You almost can’t tell they’re competing against each other in the finals.”
"Yeah, just like us," Art replies with a chuckle, his expression tinged with a hint of self-deprecation. "I'm still sharing a hotel room with the guy who's set to beat me in the finals."
Patrick gives Art a firm pat on the shoulder, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "I've already told you I'll let you win," he says, his voice filled with playful determination.
Their attention drifts back to the dance floor, their gazes drawn to the spectacle before them. The music pumps through the air, the beat energizing the dancers as they move in sync with the rhythm. Both Art and Patrick find themselves captivated by the sight of the girls dancing, their eyes lingering on them longer than they realize.
“Fuck,” Patrick's voice cuts through the air, his reaction betraying his inability to tear his gaze away from the girls.
Art gives his friend a firm nudge, a silent urging for him to keep his focus and behave, all while being just as mesmerized himself, his focus never faltering.
"Hey, I mean, Tashi Duncan's a pillar of the community." Patrick attempts to redeem himself; however, the moment of sincerity is quickly undercut by his next statement, which is delivered with a big, smug grin on his face. "I'd let her fuck me with a racket."
Of course, it's nothing Art hasn't heard before—prompting him to chuckle in response, his eyes rolling in a playful gesture. "C'mon, Patrick," he replies, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Patrick continues to act smug, his playful demeanor on full display as he swats Art's arm with his hand in a teasing gesture. "Eh, don't pretend like you haven't been drooling over her friend," he remarks, a knowing look in his eyes. He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone as he adds, "You never told me you have a thing for redheads."
A bashful smile forms on Art’s face. "Shut up," he replies, his voice tinged with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement.
"I mean, don’t get me wrong—I’m happy with either one of them," Patrick continues with a mischievous grin, his playful nature infectious.
They shift their focus back to the girls, their attention drawn like magnets.
“So, which one d’you think is gonna win the finals?” Art asks, his head tilting slightly as he asks the question.
Patrick chimes in, his words undecided. "I think she has good chances against Tashi," he explains. "Her scoring against Mueler was fucking crazy."
“Damn straight.” Art responds with a small huff. “But it’s Tashi Duncan,” he adds after a brief pause.
Patrick lets out a sigh, his eyes fixated on the dance floor. "I guess we’ll just have to wait and see," he replies, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Dancing girls
♬ Its gettin hot in here (so hot)
So take off all your clothes
I am gettin’ so hot, I wanna take my clothes off … ♬
Hair swaying to the beat, Tashi moves in sync behind her, their bodies flowing together effortlessly. As she leans into Tashi, their hips move in harmony, a choreography seemingly perfected in a matter of seconds. There's an obvious chemistry between them—-they both know what they’re doing—and they’re doing it well .
“How long d’you reckon they’re gonna stand there for?” She whispers to Tashi, her voice laced with amusement as she discreetly glances towards the boys who have been ogling at them.
Tashi giggles mockingly, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief as she speaks. "What a bunch of pussies."
She laughs in response to Tashi's remark, finding her bold demeanor both amusing and refreshing. Tashi grabs her by the hand, her grip firm yet gentle, as she leads her away from the dance floor.
"C'mon," she urges, her voice filled with a sense of excitement.
She follows Tashi, curiosity getting the better of her as she tucks a loose curl behind her ear. "Where are we going?" she asks, her voice tinged with a mixture of wonder and anticipation.
Desperate boys
As the girls leave the dance floor, Patrick gives Art a nudge, bringing him back to the present moment.
“Where are they going?” Art asks, his curiosity piqued.
Patrick responds with a sarcastic remark, his eyes never leaving the girls. "How would I know, dumbass?"
Art scoffs in frustration, his thoughts racing as he tries to reason with his friend. "Well, we’re not gonna follow them around and seem desperate—”
"Yes, we are," Patrick asserts, his determination unshakable.
Art protests, voicing his hesitation about approaching them. "And say what?" he exclaims.
Yet, despite his reservations, he finds himself following behind Patrick. Together, they make their way towards the girls, their footsteps filled with a mix of nerves and anticipation.
#challengers#challengers 2024#patrick zweig#tashi donaldson#tashi duncan#challengers movie#art donaldson#challengers fic#challengers film#challengers fanfic#challengers fanfiction#art donaldson x reader#challengers x reader#challengers smut#tashi duncan x reader#art donaldson x female reader#art donaldson x you#art donaldson x patrick zweig#art donaldson x tashi duncan#tashi duncan x you#tashi duncan x oc#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x you#patrick zweig x art donaldson#patrick zweig x oc
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| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 875 | @thingthatoncewastruee this is dedicated to you because of this old post of mine | Oh also this is a ✨part one✨ |
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The light from the crackling fireplace spilled out into the common room, casting a warm glow to the dark wood and green furniture that made up the Slytherin common room. Save for two figures sprawled out on the couch and one curled up in an armchair with a book, the room was empty of life, the pop and hiss of logs the only sound present.
Except, of course, the turning of pages coming from Regulus Black, and the soft breaths of Evan Rosier as he lay upon Barty Crouch Jr.
Barty should be doing something. Regulus was reading some book that was undoubtedly full of hopelessly confusing metaphors, and Evan was sleeping. But Barty was simply watching Evan as he rested, observing Evan’s chest rise and fall with each deep breath.
Barty noted the way the fire lit up strands of Evan’s blond hair and danced across one side of his face, playing tricks as it highlighted his friend’s cheekbones. Evan’s mouth was parted slightly, and warm puffs of breath ghosted across Barty’s sternum each time he breathed out. There was something enchanting about it, about the way Evan’s arms wrapped around his torso, his body fitting perfectly against Barty’s own as they lay there, entwined with one another.
Barty should be doing something other than creepily staring at his best friend, but Regulus wasn’t paying attention, and Barty was having a hard time pulling his gaze away from the boy sprawled across him.
He had a hard time looking away even as the door to the common room opened, causing a flood of light to come spilling in.
“Crap,” he heard a girl mutter under her breath as the sound of falling books resonated throughout the room. There was a sigh, then the sound of books being stacked upon each other once more.
Footsteps echoed on the wood floor as the girl moved about the room, coming closer towards the fireplace. Finally, Barty was able to see who the intruder was: Adriata Fawley, a sixth-year Slytherin who Barty was on friendly enough terms with.
A sudden thought struck him as she made her way to the right of the fireplace, where the staircase to the girls’ dorms was. Really, this was a conversation he should probably be sitting up for, but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb Evan.
“Adriata,” he called out quietly, trying hard not to wake Evan.
He stirred but did not wake as Adriata turned around, books still in hand, and said, “What is it?”
Almost immediately after finishing her question, she yawned widely, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. A sense of guilt washed over Barty—after all, it was late, and she probably just wanted to go to bed. But she was the perfect solution to his current dilemma, and Barty had already stopped her on her way up, so all he could do was finish his request.
“You know the Yule Ball, right?”
She nodded slowly, and Barty continued even as Regulus finally looked up from his book. He tried not to let his friend’s curious gaze get to him as he explained, “Well, I still need someone to go with, and I thought it’d be fun to go with you, if you wanted.”
The corners of Adriata’s mouth turned down, and Barty rushed to continue.
“Just as friends,” he added, desperately hoping she wouldn’t get the wrong impression and get scared off.
“Well,” Adriata said slowly, “I’d love to, but—” her eyes flicked over Evan’s sleeping form— “is Evan not available for some reason?”
Barty furrowed his brow. What was that supposed to mean? Did Adriata think that Evan was somehow going to interfere with the ball? Unless…
A low sinking feeling started to form in Barty’s gut. Had Evan asked Adriata to go to the Yule Ball with him? Was Evan going to go to the ball with Adriata?
Barty couldn’t stop himself from imaging Evan in a perfectly-cut suit with Adriata on his arm. Them laughing together. Getting food together. Dancing together. All while Barty watched from the sidelines.
He didn’t know why he cared this much. He was friendly with Adriata, sure, but that didn’t mean he had a crush on her or anything. But the thought of her going to the ball with Evan caused a sour taste to fill his mouth nonetheless.
Barty glanced back down at Evan’s sleeping face, and his voice tightened into a bitter tone as he responded, “No, why? Did he ask you to—to go with him, or something?”
“Huh? No,” Adriata shook her head, looking beyond confused. “No, nothing like that. I had just assumed that, well… you two would be going together, that’s all. Considering the fact that you’re, uh, you know. Dating.”
“What?” Barty squawked. Evan shifted slightly at the loud noise, and Barty immediately berated himself. He was only vaguely aware of a snort of laughter from Regulus’s direction as his mind scrambled to untangle Adriata’s words.
Dating? Him and Evan?
His gaze roved over Evan’s form once more, the way Evan’s head was tucked against Barty’s chest and their legs were twined together.
Dating, Barty thought incredulously as Evan nestled further into Barty’s torso, where had she even gotten that idea?
-
(Part two)
#y’all i have the worst problem where I write these random girls and then I fall in love with them#i did it with this one and I also did it with the microfic I have coming out tomorrow 😔#anyways#rosekiller#evan rosier#barty crouch jr#regulus black#slytherin skittles#rosekiller microfic#bri’s microfics
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