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erica ✦ she/her. 25. scorpio. intj. slytherin. italian.
favs ✦ art donaldson & patrick zweig. bradley bradshaw. fred weasley. carmen berzatto & richie jerimovich. lip gallagher. thomas shelby. rupert cambpell-black.
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Two guys for every girl. Once you boys get started you’ll be at it for hours. Come on boys, I know you’re not damn cowards.
pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig
summary: vying for one of the bridesmaids at their best friend's wedding gets a little out of hand, but they're tennis players. they aren't above some friendly competition.
warnings: smut, threesome, a trip to paris, throat fucking, drunk sex, tbh i'm lazy just generally 18+
Acting as bridesmaid for a girl you grew out of in college wasn’t really how you planned to spend your summer. Attending dress fittings, rehearsal dinners, bachelorette parties… but hey, free booze is free booze. And Megan’s fiancé Adam (soon-to-be husband) splashed out to pay for all the matching dresses. You reassure yourself you would have felt bad turning her down when she asked you to be a part of her bridal party.
Sure, you hadn’t talked as much over the last few years… but you were inseparable, once upon a time. She clearly hasn’t changed, considering the several breakdowns about table placements and flower arrangements you’ve witnessed over the last few weeks. And you doubt you’ll be best friends after this, but it’s nice to rekindle with someone who was a major part of your life, even if it’s not permanent.
The ceremony itself is beautiful. A beautiful stone chapel, austere lines evoking the early Christian churches of Rome; warm lights bathing the princess gown-sporting bride in an amber glow, stained glass windows glinting behind the wedding party as they read out their “I do’s.” The only modern element of the ridiculously elaborate wedding (yeah, Adam has to be fucking loaded) is the absence of any organ to reflect Megan’s aversion of them. But really, the harp just makes them seem that much more pretentious.
stanford!art x best friend!reader social media au
part six | seven | eight
a/n: the texts switch groups mid convo so be sure to check the group chat name!
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yourusername i love you guys so so much (@.artdonaldson @.tashiduncan @.patrickzweig)
tashiduncan you’re our favorite angel 💗💗
yourusername @.tashiduncan you’re my favorite girl ever 😖😖😖😖
artdonaldson i’m so lucky to call you my best friend
yourusername @.artdonaldson you’re the bestest friend in the whole world ☹️☹️ artdonaldson @.yourusername 🫀🫀🫀 yourusername @.artdonaldson 🫀🫀🫀
patrickzweig i look really hot in that photo
yourusername @.patrickzweig @.tashiduncan come deal with your man!! tashiducan @.patrickzweig you look… UGLY 😊 patrickzweig @.tashiduncan good thing i have a degradation and humiliation kink 💚 artdonaldson @.patrickzweig twin 👯 yourusername @.artdonaldson okay loser artdonaldson @.yourusername 🤤🤤🤤 tashiduncan @.artdonaldson why are you openly being a freak on instagram
tag list: @coolgrl111 @sassyvilliantrope @lovingmenisacurse @simmerinsauce @thecontrash @antxnxlla @prttygrrrl @moonyslibrary98 @faistluvr @challenger-fan-club @r4veeen @layne-10 @arcticwisteria @teenage-iridescence @tennispilledsincaraz @what-is-happening-helpp @yericosmic @hipothetical-introvert @wandas-lovey @cillianssluttiestbitch
PAIRING: Patrick x Artashi x Reader CONTENT TAGS: Brief smut, Husband!Patrick, Married Artashi, open relationship, hotel, mutual fantasy, riding, dom/sub undertones, swinging WORD COUNT: 1118 SUMMARY: You and your husband Patrick are on vacation at a luxury resort but then you see the hottest couple ever mmm delicious must fuck 10/10
Thinking about going on vacation with your husband Patrick. The two of you are freshly married, not in an incredibly-in-love kind of way, but in a way that made sense by the time you said “I do.” You fit. You like each other enough. The sex is good. And none of you are getting any younger. So why not?
And now, thanks to a lucky booking, credit card points, and off-season rates, it’s your first real vacation together at some ridiculously expensive resort. Everything is sleek, luxurious— normally, you’d feel out of place.
But Patrick makes it exciting.
Morning sex in sheets so soft, you’re not sure where your skin ends and where the fabric begins. Having lazy breakfast in bed, before checking out the exclusive amenities. Day-drinking by the pool, stretched out under the sun, tipsy and tangled in each other. Fucking again, this time in the bathroom because you can and you should— it’d be a crime to waste that spacious tub. The two of you make the most of everything.
It’s your third day there when you’re floating in the pool with Patrick, playing like children in the shallow end. It’s a little dangerous with a cocktail glass in your hand but no one’s stopping you as you giggle at Patrick’s antics, splashing you occasionally with a lazy smile plastered on his face.
Then, from the corner of your eye, a couple settles into the lounge chairs. The woman— tall, slender body with short hair framing her unbothered face— designer sunglasses perched on her nose, and a black one-piece swimsuit that shows off her legs. She sips her drink with the slow indifference that says nothing could ever distract her— not even the cute blond beside her. He’s softer, with a book in his hands, but his body is clearly fit, giving him some strength that contrasts with his gentle, expressive eyes. They sit together, side by side, calm and relaxed. Like luxury is their natural state.
“Jesus,” Patrick mutters, dragging a hand over his wet curls. “That’s a couple.”
“Mmhmm,” You hum around the rim of your glass.
You try not to be so obvious with your gawking but Patrick notices your eyes fixed the woman. He can’t blame you— she’s gorgeous, with an undeniably elegant presence. He grins.
“You gonna make a move?”
You let out a quiet laugh. “She looks like she’d have me thrown out of here.”
He tucks your wet hair behind your ear. “Blond’s cute.”
You smile. “Your type.”
They’re both your types. You watch as the woman adjusts her sunglasses, crossing one long leg over the other. Her husband stretches his unbelievably toned arms to take her hand absentmindedly, keeping his gaze on his book. She runs her thumb over his knuckles, and their matching wedding bands gleam under the sunlight.
Yeah. Definitely out of your leagues.
“Shame,” Patrick sighs. “We’d have fun.”
You swallow. ‘Fun’ is definitely a word.
Patrick notices your silence and leans down, lowering his voice.
“Wanna have sex and pretend we’re fucking them instead?”
You drain the last of your drink and tug Patrick’s wrist, leading him to the elevator. Even before you make it to your room, Patrick makes some off-handed comment about blonds. You pretend to be annoyed, but you’re just as distracted, thinking about long legs and designer sunglasses and a voice you haven't even heard yet.
The door barely clicks shut before you’re on Patrick, pulling his damp body towards you. Your fingers tug at his swimsuit, taking them down, and he laughs against your mouth, pleased at your enthusiasm.
“They turned you on this much?”
Without answering, you push him to the bed, and he falls backwards to the sheets, propped up on his elbows. His eyes darken as you peel off your swimsuit, giving him a little show. You climb on top of him, straddling his hips, and the moment your bare skin meets his, he lets out a sigh— you fit.
He palms your thighs to ground himself, and you grind down, once, just to feel him shudder underneath you.
“Tell me what you want her to do to you.”
The way your husband says it— so easy, like he already knows the answer— sends an aching feeling straight between your legs.
“I want her to—” You swallow, feeling your face heat. “Want her to wreck me.”
You roll your hips as Patrick’s fingers dig into you, taking in your shaky form. You’re too turned on to care about his smug expression— all you can think about is her.
“Want her to hold me down, make me beg—”
Patrick bucks into you, meeting your speed, and you put your face against the crook of his neck, stifling your moans.
“God, she’d make a mess of you.”
“Yeah?” You gasp. “And what about her husband?”
Patrick groans. You press your lips to his ear.
“I bet he cries when he comes.”
Patrick chokes on a laugh, eyes fluttering shut at the thought. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Stop talking,” You order, arms surrounding his shoulders. “And fuck me like you’d fuck him.”
And he does.
Just a few floors up, in a suite twice the size of yours with a balcony view, is Tashi, fingers deep inside Art’s mouth. She’s sitting on the modern bed, looking down at her husband lying on his stomach below her. He exhales hard through his nose, sucking her fingers when she tips his head back.
“They couldn’t stop looking at us.”
Tashi smirks, watching the way Art’s brows squeeze together with her words.
“You think he’d ruin you?” She continues, watching him pathetically rub his hips against the bed. “Bet he’d have you open so easily, wouldn’t he?”
Art whines.
“And his wife—” Tashi drags her nails, wet with his saliva, lightly down his throat, her tone cold but her gaze warm. “She was so pretty, wasn’t she? She’d ride you until you can’t think straight. Until you can’t think at all.”
Art makes a sound—somewhere between a whimper and a mewl—and Tashi laughs, low and delighted, like she enjoys nothing more than watching him fall apart beneath her.
“Maybe she’d like to watch you get fucked by her husband.” Tashi takes him by the chin, pulling him up, close to her face. “You'd love that. You'd come from that.”
His face burns, but he knows better than to argue. Tashi knows him, knows the things he won’t say out loud, the things he can barely admit even to himself. So he just nods, pupils dilated, mouth open— and lets Tashi kiss him, feeling the heat spread from his chest to his fingertips.
And you’re right.
He does cry when he comes.
NOTE: I wrote this on my hotel bed... Ik I promised like 3 other fics but I had a vision at the pool and it was like receiving a prophecy I had to share.... I promise I'm writing the other fics...
I wanna be the young girl Patrick’s seeks out for easy pussy. Living in a town that’s frozen in the 80s & the only body of water near is a lake. TRAILER PARK DADDY PATRICK CMEREEEEEEE
GODDDD this is so sexy I moaned a little… visual added bc I need him bad bad bad bad bad
like god he picks you up at the one shitty hole in the wall bar in town. He gets you into the shitty one stall bathroom and you’re already so wet just from a bit of talk that it’s almost laughable.
You squeeze his fingers so tight, and the sounds of his fingers sinking into your cunt are sloppy and slick. He can feel your juices dripping down his forearm, and Jesus, he’s barely even done anything and you’re falling apart right beneath him, squirming on the cracked tile countertop. panting soft and pretty— yes, like that, like that, oh god, don’t stop, please, please, please.
You’re almost overeager— the second he unzips his fly you’re on your knees, pawing at his jeans and mouthing at his cock through his boxers. Jesus, small town girls are fucking easy. He can’t imagine the disappointment you’ve gone through with small-dick assholes to be this desperate for a good fuck.
“That’s it,” he goads, grabbing your hair so he can press your mouth harder against his bulge. “Show daddy how much you need it.” You soak his boxers with your spit, eyes big and pretty as you look up at him. You whine impatiently as he shoves his boxers down and takes his cock into his hand, stroking himself right in front of you.
“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says, his voice dripping with condescension. He taps the head of his cock against your waiting tongue, pushing inside the wet warmth of your mouth only to pull back and rub the mixture of spit and precum over your cheeks. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly and ruts his dick against your face, so he’s pressed right against you and all you can manage is a few open mouthed kisses to the underside of his cock. “Nuh-uh, ask daddy nicely.”
"Please," you plead, all soft and sweet. If he were feeling a little meaner, he might deny you a little more, but he supposes you aren't used to being told no. He slips back into your mouth, all hot and warm and wet, and has to bite back a groan.
You take him like a champ. Yeah, you're gagging as he he nudges the back of your throat, and you're drooling messily down your chin, but you don't try to pull off. You just let him take whatever he wants. Easy. He can feel your throat constricting around him, and when your nails start digging into his thighs, he finally pulls out to give you a break.
Besides, he doesn't really want to cum down your throat anyway, not when he's pretty sure you'd be willing to let him fuck you raw. And, sure enough, you lean over the countertop and slip your sodden panties down your legs. They catch around your ankles and get lost somewhere in the puddles and dingy darkness.
"Sure you want it? I don't have a condom, so you'll have to trust me." Patrick says. He presses on the small of your back, rubbing his big hand over the soft skin. He presses the head of his cock against your weeping entrance, teasing you with the promise of more.
You grind back against him, whimpering. "Please, daddy." He grins. You're so easy to train. Your nails scratch at the tile beneath you as he bottoms out, stretching you beyond anything you've ever had before. You don't have to tell him— he can feel it in the tight squeeze of your walls around his cock.
"C'mon, take it like a good girl." He twists your hair into a ponytail so he can tug your head up and make you watch him take you apart this easily. "That's it, strangle this dick, baby."
You're loud. He's surprised that no one's started banging on the door to the bathroom yet. Then again, what the fuck else is there to do in a town like this than play voyeur in situations like this? Any other time, he might shove his fingers into your mouth or clap a hand over your mouth, but you sound so hot that he can't bring himself to.
It's quick and desperate. He feels your fingers slip between your thighs to rub at your clit as he fucks into you, and he swears you squeeze him tighter. "Fuck, keep going, baby," he groans, leaning over you to bury his face in your shoulder. You're caged in beneath him as he snaps his hips against yours, fucking you nice and deep. "Make yourself cum for daddy. Let me feel it. Fucking give it to me." He bites against your jaw and you mewl.
It doesn't take much to get you there— you come apart beneath him, knees buckling as he fucks you through it. You whimper at the sudden loss of him inside of you and listen to the slick sounds of him jerking his cock above you. He groans, then there's the warm, sudden splatter of cum on your ass. He tugs your dress down, smacks your ass, then helps you stand.
"Thanks for that." He says with a smug grin. "See you around?"
There's nothing better to do.
Lucio Corsi secondo me il ragazzo che ti invita a casa ti cucina la cena a lume di candela nel suo giardino ti fa vedere il suo orto da cui ha raccolto le zucchine per farti lo sformato che mangerete mentre ti dice le cose più dolci che tu abbia mai sentito e ti fa mettere a piangere quando ti dice che non devi essere perfett* per essere amat* poi ti porta a letto ti scopa a sangue e ti dice che dopo la prima verrai anche una seconda e una terza volta perché a lui piace vederti venire e non vuoi farlo contento? non preoccuparti delle pressioni del mondo l’unica cosa che importa è che sei una brava puttana solo per lui e poi dopo che hai squirtato pure l’acqua del battesimo ti canta una canzone per farti addormentare mentre ti accarezza i capelli e ti prepara la colazione a letto il giorno dopo. comunque
tw smut!!!
- dilf!art donaldson keeps in shape after retirement because while he may not play professionally anymore he's still a coach and he's still young and it just makes him feel better about himself
- and every time he comes home he's always a little sweaty and he'll take his shirt off and you may as well be foaming at the mouth because damn
- he's like "baby i have to shower"
- you can't even help yourself "let me clean you up"
- it's his fucking abs. he looks like michelangelo himself carved him from stone. sometimes you can't even understand how it's possible that he's real
- every goddamn time it takes 30 seconds flat before you're straddling him, licking and kissing and nipping along every little crevice of his gorgeous abs
- it happens so often but every single time it takes his breath away because not only are you damn good at it but you make him feel so loved
- he always has something to say about it and the way his voice gets a little shaky but he speaks with so much conviction blows you away every time
- "you're so beautiful" "too good to me" "love you so much baby" "such an angel"
- and because you're so obsessed it wouldn't be long before you were rolling your hips down over and over against those gorgeous muscles
- the divots of his abs would create the perfect stimulation against your clit
- you'd be a fucking mess and he would absolutely love it
- it wouldn't take long for you to find your rhythm and figure out exactly how you needed to grind on him to get you whimpering for him
- sometimes he'd keep his large, calloused hands on your hips to keep you steady and help you move if you needed it
- sometimes he'd have his hands on your breasts, squeezing, rubbing, thumbs brushing your nipples before he'd gently tug (and sometimes not so gently)
- sometimes he'd put his hands behind his head and relax and just watch
- "you have no idea how beautiful you are like this" "love it when you use me baby" "you're so perfect" "want a picture of you like this. gonna blow it up and frame it"
- with enough time you'd be whining his name out, hips bucking as you rode out your orgasm on him
- and you'd be like "now we both need a shower"
- and he's like "you better get in there fast before i make you scoot down and ride my dick"
- but obvs the second you're in the shower he's got you slammed up against the wall and he's ramming into you... duh
since you were talking about dad!patrick yesterday!☺️💕 https://www.instagram.com/reel/DCgq_WrIoj-/?igsh=MXhjaDlkODRoaDNtcA==
That video is precious, Patrick would look forward to living his life everyday if he could wake up to his daughter sleeping next to him in his bed.
He installed a crib in his dorm room when he was expected to keep her during the week replacing his nightstand with her cot keeping a hand in it when she's restless or has nightmares holding her hand in his sluggishly watching the tension leave her body.
but he'll pick her up and lay her down next to him if he wakes up early just to spend extra time with her before class or practice, patting her tummy and whispering how much he loves her while she blows raspberries, tugs on his hair and rolls around on the sheets.
She starts sneaking into Patrick's bed when she's able to climb out on her own.
"papa.." she stirs him awake brushing curls away from his forehead smiling as he's met with her light blue eyes, identical to his.
"mornin-" he yawns pulling her onto his chest, "I'm here honey" he huffs patting her back glimpsing down occasionally, making sure she drifts back to sleep.
no thoughts, just getting ready for dinner at a restaurant with your boyfriends art and patrick. three of you took the bathroom at the same time because you are inseparable just wanted to save your time! you’re doing your full skincare routine, applying a face mask in front of the mirror, while art is taking a shower, and patrick is shaving next to you, occasionally nudging you with his elbows and then immediately pretending that he did nothing wrong </3 he’ll probably start whining about not being able to kiss you because of this gross blue thing on your face (when art gets out of the shower, you put the same mask on his face and patrick is literally having withdrawals)
had a flashback from when I was a kid I used to pretend to shave my face with cotton swabs and my dads shaving cream
Imagine your daughter strolling into your bathroom Saturday morning met with Art shaving his beard not realizing she's walked in until he hears shuffling beside him. He peers down and stares at the mess she's made, a huge ball of shaving cream in her small hand the canister coated with it too trying not to laugh as some of it's smeared on her minnie mouse shirt. She's rubs it over her cheeks grabbing at a cotton swab on the corner of the counter laying it horizontally on her face copying his movements. She raises her eyebrows and points at his razor as if to say 'come on dad we're not done'
it turns into a habit, he asks for her help when he needs his weekly fresh up's. Sits her on the counter and let's her cake his face with the product 'shaving' him with her swabs
I love you dad Art Donaldson
Happy birthday 🎂
For the prompts: Lucio being such a gentle lover and would be so enamored with the reader
Thank you!!
For these kind of posts, I like making a bullet point of headcannons I use for writing - so here's what I think Lucio would be like as a gentle lover. It includes small snippets of writings so it's still complying with a writing request!
I'm gonna program some posts because it's very late for me (3 am, I am a very late night writer!) so you'll get more content from me today!
Content below the cut! Includes NSFW!
not a fuckin' toy. `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ tw gunplay
His body was all sweat slick heat against yours, both of your chests heaving in time as you caught your breath from tustling around in his threadbare sheets. One of his arms was haphazardly thrown around you as he leaned against the wall his bed was pushed up against, lacking a headboard.
It was always like this on lazy days with Riff. Lounging around in each other’s body heat in between rounds, never really cooling off. Especially in the summer when the heat pressed in from the outside, too. The window was thrown open for the occasional breeze, but you’d both rather stay naked all day for a couple of reasons.
You slide out of his rickety old bed casually, your feet dropping onto the wood floor to carry you across the room in search for his cigarettes and a lighter. You picked through the clothes strewn across the floor when something catches your eye on his dresser, sticking out from under one of his shirts thrown across the top.
It glinted in the light as you approached, tugging it out from its hiding spot and feeling the weight of it in your hands. The steel was heavy for something so small, cool compared to the heat of the air around you. You turned halfway to face him, rotating the gun in your hands.
“The hell do you have this for?” You question, shooting him a look as you tear your eyes away from the metal in your grasp.
“Don’ worry ‘bout it. Put it down,” he answers dismissively, pushing his dark hair off his sweaty forehead and beckoning you back to the bed with a jerk of his head.
You ignore him, a strange fascination with the piece in your hands taking over you as you look back down at it. You grip it like you’ve seen in the movies or like the cops do, admiring how it looks in your delicate hand.
“Hey,” his voice is a bit sharper now when you don’t listen to him. “That ain’t a fuckin’ toy. Put it down,” he demands again.
To his dismay, his tone only makes you feel even more defiant, a mischievous smirk settling on your lips as you approach him, pointing the gun right at him. “Put your hands up, delinquent.”
His eyes narrow dangerously at you. It’s not loaded, he’s not fucking stupid. The safety’s on, and your finger’s not even on the trigger. But seeing you point that thing at him…
When you get close enough to the bed again, gun still pointed straight out in front of you, directly at him, he rises to the challenge. He leans forward, pressing his forehead directly to the end of the barrel. One wrong move and you could splatter his brains on the wall behind him.
His eyes burn as they look up at you, almost in a dare. He’s daring you to take his challenge, to squeeze that trigger and hear the mechanical click of a quick death. Your heart is beating faster now, your expression falling at the sudden intensity of the moment. There’s something so inherently intimate about the illusion of holding someone else’s life in your hands, and them letting you.
And then his hand is on the gun, snatching it away from your hand as he uses the other to wrap around your waist and pull you forward into him. His expression is still just as intense, his fiery gaze never leaving your face.
“You don’t play around with this shit, you hear me?” He asks, his eyebrows raising expectantly as he waves the gun out of your reach. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, could blow someone’s goddamn head off,” he hisses and you give a little nod feeling like a scolded kid.
“You feel all tough with this thing pointed at me? Huh?” he questions, making your body shiver as he runs the cool metal up your thigh. “You feel like a big girl?” he suddenly presses the length of the barrel against the heat of your core making you gasp and shudder.
“Was jus’ messin’ around, Riff,” you mumble, your hand gripping his wrist tightly, but you're unsure whether you're wanting to push him away or keep him right where he is.
“Yeah. Exactly,” he huffs, breaking your grip to toss the gun aside. “Don’ want you messin’ around with your life,” he pulls you down to straddle his lap by his grip on your hips, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.
Your life. You were the one holding the gun out at him and he was concerned about your life.
Riff Lorton already knew he was heading for an early grave, but he’d be damned if you were resigned to the same fate.
