VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who moans as soon as he enters you. (if he didnât know any better, he wouldâve came on the spot)
VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who buries his head between you neck and kisses it desperately as he begins to rutt into you
VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who licks the tears from your cheeks as they come streaming down
VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON whoâs praises sound like prayers as he whimpers them out between kisses
VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who comes so fast and so hard he starts crying even more than he was before (he just canât believe how much he loves you!!)
VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who canât stop now matter how much you beg him toâŠ
âcanât stop âm so sorry baby -ah- canât stopâ
VIRGIN!ART DONALDSON who collapses ontop of you after he came god knows how many times. poor baby is so overwhelmed, muttering how much he loves you and begging you not to leave him
tags: fluff, domestic, married life, husband!art donaldson, tennisplayer!reader, tournament, coach!patrick
word count: 629
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Art was worried.
He watched as you ran off the court, your hand over your mouth as you tried for the life of you not to puke all over the clay court. Your opponent stood there frustrated, arms crossed over her chest, a scowl evident on her face.
Minutes passed and the murmuring of the crownd began to get louder due to your absence. Art looked around, his left hand scratching his head, a gold wedding band reflecting in the sun. No sign of you yet.
He was worried. He warned you about this happening, the pros and cons about playing in the tournament. You were stubborn, determined to power through because youâve encountered worse. This was a piece of cake. Being your husband, he supported you but mostly, he just wanted to avoid your bad side.
Art glanced at the door you disappeared behind, his leg shaking in anticipation. You still hadnât returned. The umpire was about to call the game. You were going to lose by default after being close to winning the whole goddamned tournament.
Fuck it, he thought and stood up to go through that fucking door. His heart racing as he pushed people from your team, muttering excuse me and thank you or whatever the fuck they needed to hear.
He reached the closed bathroom door, leaning closer to hear your retching as your stomach rebelled against you. His knuckles knocked on the bathroom door, as a courtesy and then pushed the door open.
Inside the bathroom, you were hunched over the toilet, clearly in distress. Art's heart clenched at the sight. He quickly kneeled down beside you, placing a gentle hand on your back.
"Hey sweetheart," he said softly, trying to offer some comfort. "Are you okay? What's going on?"
You looked up, tears in your eyes, and managed to croak out, "You were right,â you admitted. âI need a break.â
Art's heart sank as he saw you so distressed and vulnerable. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his comforting embrace. You felt a little better, the nausea still lingered around your throat but the urge was gone.
âYou need to rest,â he whispered into your hair, sound muffled. âItâs starting to take a toll on you.
You sighed, tired, sweaty and defeated. âI know. Just take me home.â
Patrick burst through the door, concern and disappointment etched all over his place. âWhat the fuck is going on? Why arenât you playing?â
You rolled your eyes as Art helped you stand up on your shaky legs. âI need a break Pat,â you said, leaning on your husband for support. âI need a long ass break.â
âA break?â He asked, crossing his arms in disbelief. âWhen have you ever taken a break?â
âFuck off, Patrick,â Art grumbled at his best friend, turned your coach. âShe needs a fucking break.â
Patrick scoffed, the sound making Artâs grip tighten around you. âHow long is this break supposed to be?â
â9 months.â
Patrick's eyes widened in shock as the weight of your words sank in. He looked from you to Art, realization dawned on him. You shifted uncomfortably, wanting to just go home and sleep for the rest of the year.
"You're pregnant?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and understanding.
You nodded, leaning more heavily on Art for support. "Yes, I am."
Patrick's expression softened, his initial frustration melting away as he realized the gravity of the situation. "I... I had no idea.â
âNow you do,â Art rolled his eyes, his own concern for you evident but the annoyance toward Patrick even more prominent. "I just need to take her home before she throws up all over you.â
Patrick stepped aside, offering you a supportive smile. "Congratulations, you fuckers. Take all the time you need. We'll handle the tournament."
rough, immoral, sloppy, a little gay, mean, screaming, clawing, hair pulling, slapping, all day, all night, doggy, missionary, prone bone, cowgirl, REVERSE cowgirl, all three holes, on the counter, in the shower, in bed, on the couch, on the floor, outside, in the car. send tweet.
You felt like a parent taking their kid to meet Santa.
You know something he doesnât.
âWhat for?â
You shrug, trying to stay casual.
âJust cause.â
Perched on the king-sized bed, he watches patiently as you dig through the shared dresser. When you turn around, youâre holding a box. It's wine red with a bow on top.
You set it on his lap. He raises his eyebrows, silently asking for permission.
âGo ahead.â
He traces the soft velvet of the loop, the smoothness of the parcel, and thenâŠ
Suddenly heâs feeling cold, supple leather.
His eyes widen when he he realizes what heâs holding.
It cant beâŠ
He inspects the craftsmanship, running a finger over the edge of the collar.
Heâs equal parts shock and arousal.
He feels out of body until your voice brings him back.
âIf you donât like it, we can pretend it never happened.â
This dynamic was not new to you and Art, but this was a whole new step. To surprise him, you risked making him uncomfortable.
But that couldn't be farther from what heâs feeling. You just canât tell because the box is covering his hard-on.
âNo!â his head darts up, â No, no.â
You find respite in his reaction.
âWant to wear it." he admits meekly.
Thank god.
âJust caught me off guard, thatâs allâ
He swallows apprehensively.
âCould I- could I try it on right now?â
You're proud of him for voicing his wants. He hasn't exactly always been good at that.
âOf course.â
Art holds the collar up for you to take. The motion reminds him of when he used to hold up a rosary for the prayer of the heart.
You gladly accepted.
His head tilts back for you, exposing the long pale curve of his neck.
His breaths are shaky.
You lean over him. Itâs a simple hook, like one youâd find on a bracelet or necklace. It still takes a moment to clasp correctly because of the awkward angle, but eventually he feels the material bob over his throat.
It's snug, but not too snug.
Just right.
You take a step back to admire the view.
Wow.
âYou look so handsome,â and you mean it, âSânot too tight? Feel ok?â
Feel okay?
He clears his throat, "No it- it feels great."
Youâve never seen him this shy before.
âThank you. I love it. I really do.â
âWell I'm glad. Just wanted to give my boy something special.â
You grab his collar (gently) and pull him close to you. Itâs obvious on his face that he wasnât expecting that. When you close the space between the two of you, all his inhibitions dissipate.
Youâre kissing him and he moans into your mouth. His tongue is trying to touch every corner at once.
You straddle him and he scoots further on the bed to make room for you.
âIâve seen you,â you say in between kisses, âyou hump the mattress when you think I've fallen asleep.â
A sigh falls from bud wet lips.
âI'm sorry. Ever since we moved in together, god itâs like torture in the best way. Seeing my girl throw my laundry in with hers, make the bed we share, wear flowy dresses around the house⊠I can't help it.â
Poor boy.
âYou know, it doesnât hurt to ask.â a bit or teasing in your voice.
Yeah sure. Let me ask my girlfriend if sheâll be my free-use pillow. That'll go well.
âYou know I have stamina. Maybe not as much as a professional athlete, but still.â
âIt's embarrassing,â he mumbles, staring at the quilt, âI'm acting like a teenager.â
âOh baby,â you coo, lifting his chin, âitâs only natural for puppy boys like you to act this way.â
Art swallowed, almost cartoonishly. It's a wonder his eyes didn't bug out of his head when he first saw the collar.
âYou don't have to cage your desires.â
A bit of drool escaped from the corner of his mouth. You softly wiped it away with your thumb, then kept your hand there cradled on his cheek.
âCan you show me?â you ask softly and innocently, âCan you show me how good puppies treat their owners?â
He roused at this, nodding frantically. Tearing off your shirt and bra in a hurry. Itâs a miracle he didnât rip any seams. His arms found their place around your middle, the skin-to-skin making him dizzy.
He wastes no time putting a nipple into his mouth. Eyes closed, tongue going into muscle memory. He's so happy, so peaceful.
Your chest gets very slobbery very quickly. Kisses appear in the center of your chest, then on your ribs, then your stomach.
When he gets to your belly button, Art is half crouched and physically uncomfortable. So he puts a hand under each thigh, turns a hundred and eighty degrees and sets you down. All with the speed and ease of a man whoâs done this a thousand times.
He looks at you in awe, mouth hanging open.
âSafeword?â you catechize
The word emerges as a beacon of trust and mutual respect:
âQuasar.â
âGood boy.â you nod, petting his face once more,
His lips meld to yours while his tough hands pulled off your leggings and underwear in one go.
He's back on your stomach. Able to stretch out.
Rubbing his face on it. He nips at your stretch marks, your hip joint, then rests a tiny kiss on your mound.
You whimpered the first moment his mouth moved in between your lips. But art was louder. He couldn't control his sounds any more than you could yours. His eyes closed and his tongue slurped up his favorite treat. It seemed like he couldn't swallow fast enough.
âGod,â he panted,
Your back made a picturesque arch. He slid his hands under it.
His ears became covered by your thighs.
His face went lower and you felt the tip of his nose inside you.
He shakes his head from side to side. He would move in there, but unfortunately lack of oxygen forced him to remove his head.
He gathers some of your wetness on his pointer and middle finger. Very gently swirling them around. Then he rubs your clit at an insane pace, his biceps flexing.
It took you completely off guard. The speed and pressure on it. Like he was trying to rub it raw.
You gripped the bedsheets.
âFuck!â you cried out âI can't, I-â
âYes you can.â he said firmly, sucking your firm clit into his beautiful mouth.
Before your Art, you always figured your body just couldn't squirt.
How wrong you were.
Not all of the people you'd been with were bad at sex, but they weren't him. It was the amount of attention he paid that made the blonde second to none.
Like right now, he rubbed soothing circles on your stomach while he did tricks with his tongue. Theres no metaphor needed- it felt fucking good.
âHaah... Uugh.. Aaah...â
You gripped onto his curls and gasped.
âGonna make me cum.â
âYes, please. Please mommy.â
He slid his middle finger in with his other hand and you were done for.
You experienced a climax so powerful it made you stupid for a moment. No weight, no thoughts, just senses. Spots of black covered your vision for a few seconds.
You smiled when you realized Art was laying kisses on your face.
âThank you, â you whispered, âThat felt so good, baby.â
He hid his joy in the crook of your neck. You embrace him, stroking up and down his back. Then you look down to find the source of what's poking you. You grab his clothed cock.
âLet's do something about this, hm?â
He whimpers and nearly falls on you. Nodding and digging his palms into the mattress.
âCmon,â you chuckle and jerk your head. âLie down like a good boy.â
Within a matter of seconds, the both of you were now bare. The tennis player beneath you, where he can get out of his head.
âDo you need lube?â he asked, rubbing his hands up and down your waist.
âNo,â you shook your head, âI think you got me plenty ready.â you said through a laugh.
He rolled his eyes but the grin was impossible to keep away.
âThank you for asking, sweetieâ
You pecked him in appreciation. It was over too soon for his liking.
You held his cock in your hand, admiring how pretty it was before getting it coated on your folds.
You let out moans and closed your eyes in synchronization. You loved when his precum would mix with your wetness. It was a feeling hard to describe, giving you goosebumps and making you ache for more.
âMommy,â he whispered as you slipped it in.
You tried to control your breathing as you took him.
Art bit the back of his hand, restraining himself from cumming already.
âHow do you make so so full every time?â you exhaled, throwing your head back as you started to grind your hips in circles.
A deep rumble came out of your chest.
âfeelssogood.â
His eyes squeezed shut.
âLook at me, baby.â
You smiled from ear to ear when you saw his blue and hazel eyes.
âThere's my angel.â you cooed in that sickly sweet voice.
He turned his head and bit the edge of the pillow. You started moving up and down on his cock. Your mouth is right by his ear.
âBite me instead.â
He wastes no time. He let go of the pillow and sunk his teeth into your delicate neck.
âOhhh..â
It was meant to be a nice thing for art, for his puppy brain to indulge in. But it made you short circuit. The sounds of him sucking your pulse point. The knowledge that there's a bruise when you get up. His breathy moans right in your ear.
âSuch a good boy. Making mommy feel so go- fUck.â
He lifted his hips to meet yours. Going at a pace that would be inconceivable to anyone who doesn't train on a court for eight hours a day.
âSo pretty in your fucking collar. Want you to wear it around the house.â you moaned hoarsely.
Art is not one of those losers whoâs embarrassed to moan. Heâs telling you alllll about it right now.
His thrusts from the bottom never lost intensity. It shook the whole bed.
âGonna cum for you, mommy. Hnnnngh-â
âCum inside, puppy, give me a litter.â
Art blacked out. You felt sticky and warm from the inside out. When you got off him it clung to your thighs.
You got him some water and cuddled him until he became more fully conscious again.
âHey, precious.â you said ever so softly.
You planted a kiss on his forehead, bundled the both of you up in blankets and took his collar off.
âFor safety you shouldnât sleep in it. Iâll keep it right here on my nightstand.â
He nodded, still not ready to speak yet. Thatâs ok.
His arms wound tightly around your naked skin. He swore it was the softest thing he ever touched.
âWe should get your name engraved on this. Or should it say âmommas boy?ââ
His signature blush started to show, he playfully shoved you. But underneath he loved the idea. He loved belonging.
puppy art who gets so horny when youâre not around that he humps the bed
Inappropriate content below so read at your own risk!!
well yes. Like I can just imagine you having a class at like 6 p.m that goes until 8, and heâs just waiting for you in your dorm. He reads, does homework, texts Patrick for a bit, anything to distract himself from being alone with his thoughts. Then heâs looking around your room. Roaming through your desk, glancing at all the pictures on your walls. Then he goes to your closet, he thinks it would be silly to see how many of his sweaters and shirts youâve collected throughout the year and confront you about it. But when he opens the closet door and sees your underwear and bra drawer open, his mouth goes dry and his breathing grows heavy. His mind fills with images of you and your beautiful tits spilling from your lacy bra.
He picks up one of your bras from Victoria secret and feels the fabric with his pointer finger and thumb. He sighs and puts it back.
Then be picks up a pair of your panties. Itâs just a simple pair of underwear, black with a tiny white bow on the front of the waistband. He could feel the blood rushing down to his cock as the swirly feeing of arousal filled his lower belly. He brought the underwear up to his cheek and took in a deep breath as he felt the smooth fabric against his skin. He then brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply before groaning. Obviously this pair was clean and smelled like laundry detergent, but of course anything slightly dirty like your undergarments, made Art horny as fuck. Without thinking he walked over to your bed and laid down on his stomach, the panties covering his nose and mouth as he started to grind against your covers. He panted softly against the silky fabric, his eyes shut and his eyebrows pinched together.
His shorts felt too tight and uncomfortable as his cock was fully hard now. He sat up quickly and took off his shirt and shorts, then he slowly dragged his boxers down his legs and threw them on the floor. He shifted onto his stomach and sighed happily when his cock rubbed against the bed. He brought the underwear to his nose hummed as his hips started to move and grind against the mattress. The feeling of pleasure consumed him. Soon, his grinding turned into rutting, he panted and moaned loudly as he humped your bed. As he got closer and closer his moans grew high pitched and whiny. As he felt the band in his lower belly tightening he shoved your panties into his mouth and breathed heavily against them, the fabric muffling his moans and whimpers. His hips and legs were moving quickly, eager to achieve more pleasure. Suddenly, the band in his belly snapped and his orgasm hit him with a wave of pleasure. He moaned loudly, his shaky legs continuing to move against the bed to get friction against his sensitive cock, hoping to prolong the pleasure. Ropes of his satin white cum stained your bed, but Art didnât even notice, his brain too blank and dumb from pleasure to notice anything other than the pulsing he felt in his dick and the pleasure that overwhelmed his entire body. His lower body finally stopped moving. He lazily pulled your underwear from his mouth and he inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, his body relaxing. He cuddled up against your pillow, his eyes still shut, but the crease between his eyebrows was gone.
When you got back to your dorm after class, he was passed out, but the evidence of his actions were visible. You smiled to yourself, of course he would do this, heâs just a puppy with needs after all.
(Hope you guys like! Sorry if thereâs any mistakes!)
he looks like he just told a really bad joke and now heâs trying to compensate for the fact that no one laughed. âno, like get it because- no, yes it WAS funny, i promise. itâs âcause, like-â
Letting Stanford!Art be on top and do whatever he wants to you for the first time, and he just starts rutting into you like a BUNNY and ur just like
Jesus slow down ! HOW are you doing that ! âđȘ
his hips going a hundred miles a minute; his arms working to hold your legs up to your chest as he pummels your insides and whines into your neck. just mumbling âtight, tight, tightâ and âwarm, sâgood, so warm, ah-â
and you have to pat his back and pull on his hair for him to come-to. heâs hot all over, and heâs greedily jerking his pelvis into you as he tries to hold back for your sake.
âart, just.. take it easy, alright? itâs not going anywhere,â you pant out, stroking the flushed nape of his neck before he nods in response.
so he slows it down, in and out and in and outâgingerly letting his dick slot against your contracting insides as he struggles to keep himself calm. that slowed pace only lasts for about a minute before he suddenly yelps and starts to jack-rabbit you again. âcanât, canâtâ gonna cum inside you soon, itâs close, im close-!â
you just have to lay there and take it because it becomes abundantly clear that he really canât stop.
tashiâs COME ON at the final match when art and patrick hug like. challengers is about one womanâs journey to orgasm. imagine being edged by the metaphysical psychosexual situationship you started as a teenager thinking your husband doesnt satisfy you sexually and the guy that satisfies you sexually doesnât emotionally and seeing them have simulated sex through tennis and finally coming (c o m i n g) together gives you the emotional and sexual release youâve been chasing for 15 years.
