#atp x reader

[charlieluver]

Hey, I just wanted to say that I love your fics very much!🩷

Could you maybe write one about Jannik Sinner with a little smut and angst maybe after an important match he lost?

Thank you!!✨💕

Thought I lost you too

jannik lost the big game, and was sure he lost you too, forever. all he didn't know was you were always his. wc: 1.1k

You didn't know if your presence was still welcomed. Your hand hovers over the hotel door, desperate to knock, but your past was holding you back.

The same past that had made your heart shatter six months ago, by the man who left broken in his room now. Paris felt like yesterday, the green and blue jacket thrown on the floor, room thick with misunderstanding as voices cut through it.

"Jan, please, say something I- "

"Say what? Like I'm extremely happy to lose after getting 3 fucking championship points?" His voice rose, holding back his tears. Corners of his eyes red, as he looks at you.

"Yes Jan, talk it out. I'm here for you". You couldn't speak above a whisper, trying to close the distance between you and him. Hands trying to cup his face, but he jerks his head away.

"Just, leave me alone. Please." Jannik's voice was eerily too calm, just like the calm before a storm. You were afraid that he will crawl back to the walls he built, so high that you could't climb it.

"I- I just can't let you spiral into your self doubt, please let me help you."

"I don't need help! I need no saving of any sorts, I- I don't need you." For the first time ever, he screams at you, voice breaking, just like your heart.

"What?" You could barely utter the word as choked sobs make way to your throat.

"Just, go I-"

"You don't need me? After all this time? I travelled a whole day to support you here while the expenses pile up my student loan. I-"

You take in a shaky breath, tears threatening to fall.

"I sacrifice too, ok? Its not just you Jan, I do it too, and I feel that you have taken my support for granted lately."

"You knew what came along with me , so leave if you don't feel if its right, I can't anymore. Lets end it."

Your heart falls listening to his words, devoid of any emotion.

"Do you mean everything you said right now?"

Silence takes over. Your eyes eagerly searching his, for any sign at all.

And he doesn't break the silence.

And it hasn't been broken ever since, not until today. Not when you saw his way to the US open final. Not when your finals tickets were booked within days. Not when Darren looked at you across the stadium, you in his player's sweater that no one could ever get in a store, laced with the smell of his damp ginger curls. Not when a little text pops up from him, telling you Jannik's room number and insisting on seeing him.

Three soft knocks. Easy to miss, but noticed if listened closely.

The door swings open, and for a moment both of you forget to breathe. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out of it.

"Great match." You say, as quietly as possible, as if saying it too loud would break this dream.

Your eyes stayed on his face, how his beard has grown a little, how his lips parted. Finally meeting his eyes, which were already on you, wide in shock.

"You're.....here?" Jannik's voice sounded like it hadn't been used in a while, not to you. It carried a certain weight, unfamiliar to your ears, in sharp contrast to his soft tone.

"Just wanted to see you." You slowly took a step forward, testing the waters.

"I just wanted to -"

Before you could even complete the sentence, his arms found the way across your waist, head buried in the crook of your neck.

You stumbled a little from the force, his warmth slowly melting your heart, little by little. Your arms circled over his neck, pulling him even closer.

"I'm sorry. I- I didn't mean a single word that night. I was stupid enough to let ego take over, and I have regretted ever since and I-"

"Jan, breathe. It's ok I'm here now."

He broke the hug, eyes glossy as he stared into yours. He leaned into your touch, as you wiped his tears.

"Since that night, I- I couldn't focus on anything. My matches were robotic, god I missed the thrill of winning a point and cheering with you sitting in my box. I missed you, and I called you so many times, drunk or sober I- I don't remember. I fucked this up I-"

His breath shaky, trying so hard not to break down.

"I couldn't have this game and I thought I could never get you back too."

"But you never lost me in the first place Jannik."

And you don't know what made you do that, your hands cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss.

You feel his hands caress your waist, pulling you up to wrap your legs against his waist, like the countless times you have done before. He put his feeling into the kiss, a little rough just like his bittersweet heart and the mess in his mind, his pain evident as he bites your lower lip, going back to devour your lips, not like a man starved, moreover like him starved of your touch, your love, your existence in his life. Your gasps and his groans fill the air, as he places you softly on the bed. Hands fumbling to remove both of your shirts. His lips kissing on your nape as he travels lower, soft whimpers leaving his lips as he sucks onto you skin.

Jannik's eyebrows furrowed as your hands grab his face towards yourself.

"Tonight's about you. Let me."

You flip, straddling his lap, hands roaming on your chest. A small chuckle leaves his lips, turning into a moan as your lips find his, leaving a peck as you place kisses over his collar bone, hand moving towards his crotch.

"Fuck, you're killing me." Hands pulling his tracks down, slipping into his boxers to palm his cock. Thumb brushing over the tip. "Feels so good." he breath uneven, holding your hair as you go down your knees, pumping his cock. Kissing his tip, you swirl your tongue around him, leaving a trail of saliva on his length. "S-Shit I won't last." Bobbing your head up and down with your hands pumping his base, while looking into his eyes, how he could barely keep them open. You knew he wouldn't last. Jannik tilts his head back, the grip on your hair tightening as his moan rips though the air, arousing you. You could feel he's close, how he thrusts into your mouth, his grip on your head tightening, his curses in italian. "Cazzo, shit I-" You could feel the saltiness on your tongue, his gasps for air as he reached his high. Your hands gently remove his cock, kissing the tip as you come up to him, pulling you onto his chest. "ti amo tanto (i love you so much). I'm sorry I did that. I- I can't and won't lose you again I'm sorry." He whispered on your lips, thumb caressing your cheek. He pressed his lips against yours, sealing a promise which he would never break. "Now let me return the favour amore mio." ___________________

hii thank you so much for requesting this! so sorry for replying so late. hope you like it <3 i indulged a little too much in the angst part hehehe masterlist

[sinnermania]

Same Old Us

Jannik Sinner x Reader

Summary: Nine years is a long time to know somebody. In those nine years, she and Jannik have changed so much; grown as people, as players, rose to fame alongside each other. But some things, some rituals never change.

wc: 1k

Headphones in, head down. That was her most usual form about an hour before a match. Anything fast with a good rhythm would do - even better if it can keep up with her racing heart.

Nerves usually aren't an issue. Loud cheering crowds, chaotic coaches, phones ringing - loved ones wishing her good luck - it was a norm that she accepted early on in her career. However, they had never gotten that far before. This is it. Australian Open, Mixed Doubles Final, 2023.

Her eyes closed as a breath pushed out of her lungs, like waves rushing to shore, before opening once again and focusing on the task at hand. Her fingers worked with a practiced precision, the movement bringing an odd comfort to the room, as she carefully wrapped the white material around the grip of Jannik's racquet.

"I can do it myself, sai?" (you know?)

He comments from his place on the floor, while he stretches his hamstrings.

She looks at him blankly, noticing his mouth moving, yet hearing no sound over her blaring music. Gently tugging an earbud out, she raises a brow in question.

The response she receives is a gentle chuckle and a playful shake of the head.

"I'm not fifteen anymore, I can grip my own racquets."

(Note; he could always grip his racquets, just not up to her pristine standards. 'You're not doing it right,' she would complain back at the academy, before taking initiative and doing it herself - she was not going to risk losing due to his sloppiness.)

She simply shrugged, finishing her task with a slightly embarrassed smile.

"I don't want to jinx it."

She knew how silly it sounded, nevertheless, she did it. For the past seven years - on and off due to injury and scheduling conflicts, of course - she has known him, and re-gripped his racquets before their matches.

They were good. They were great. Two young rising stars, both in singles and doubles. She wasn't going to change the routine now. It worked, didn't it?

"I play just as fine when I do it myself, bella."

He responded with an small, amused smile.

"You have your superstitions, I have mine. Do you want to win or not?"

Her hand twitched, the way it did when she tensed, when her voiced carried a certain sharpness, threatening to crack under the weight of stress. He saw. He knew. Before she could apologise for her minor - yet sudden outburst, he repositioned himself to sit on the floor in front of the bench she is sitting at. He firmly tied the stubborn lace of her left shoe, giving her leg a reassuring pat.

"Andrà tutto bene. We've got this, no?" (everything will be fine)

How can he be so calm, so collected?

After a generous exhale, she nodded. He noticed that the whole scene lacked conviction, sure, but fake confidence was considerably better than no confidence. That was enough for him. She was enough for him.

They were enough for eachother. A universal truth that was further proven two hours later, when they lifted the silver trophy together.

Their lips met the cold steel at the same time, the ability to stand fueled purely by adrenaline after a grueling three set match. Another hour later, his lips would find hers for the first time. Yes, fueled by adrenaline, but mainly by the years spent by her side, watching her, knowing her. A simple silent admiration that he refused to suppress for any longer.

-----------------------------------------------------

His hair is shorter. Her's is longer.

He has two grand slams to his name. She has three.

Together, they have four doubles majors under their belt, aiming for five.

Australian Open, Mixed Doubles Final, 2025.

Headphones in, head down. Brows gently furrowed in concentration, as the white material drags and stretches between her fingers, rotating his racquet with her other hand.

Sitting next to her, Jannik gently pulls an earphone out of her ear, careful not to startle her.

"Pronta, bella?" (ready?)

He nudges her shoulder with his in an encouraging gesture.

Finishing her practiced ministrations, she shrugs, placing the last racquet in his bag.

"Not really." She says with a nervous smile. It never gets easier. The contrary, if anything. The more you win, the more people admire you. The more people admire you, the more people you can dissapoint.

A tender smile creeps onto his face, and his comforting hand slips into hers, fingers lacing for the nth time.

"Honesty looks good on you. Come tutto, a dire il vero." (So does everything, to be fair)

She laughs lightly, shaking her head at his blatant flirting. Italian charm; foolproof.

"E niente." (And nothing) He says with a boyish grin, leaning in slightly.

She knows what he's doing, of course she does. Laughter is the best distcraction - anything to ease her nerves. And so, she lets him.

Her laughter thickens, her nose scrunching the way it often does when she is trully amused.

"You're ridiculous." She simply comments, her wide smile contrasting her words while she double-knots the laces of her shoes.

Jannik's undoubtebly witty retort is interupted by a knock on the door, and the tournament manager's nasally voice - "Five minutes!"

Brought back into the reality of the situation, she sighs as her smile drops slightly. Standing up, she picks up her bags, throwing them over her shoulder with a certain determination.

"It's just you and me out there." He reminds her, tucking a rogue strand of hair behind her ear with his calloused fingers.

She nods with a thankful smile, placing his cap on his head.

"That's enough for me. I don't need anything else."

She seals her words with a quick, yet tender kiss. It is less a statement, more a promise. His hands - rough but oh so gentle - linger on her cheek, for just a moment more. Whatever happens out there, he's enough for her. They're enough for eachother.

[compress1repress]

just some silly texts :) patrick x reader x art x tashi ft. reader & patrick as bi4bi manipulators (or trying at least) (also nsfw i guess????)

+ bonus art and tashi

inspired by @coolgrl111 :)

[themostpreciouspearl]

Thinking about... rooming with Art, Tashi and Patrick.

CW: suggestive, smut, cursing, is polycule a warning?

In the Stanford era, 2007. Tashi's hair is still dark and reaches her waist when it's straight. You like it better curly, soft in your face when you bury yourself into her hair, curled against her back as you sleep. (She still doesn't know why she's not the big spoon, but she's not complaining.)

Each morning starts with the sound of blinds being pulled open as sunlight streaks into the room. Art's hair glows like molten gold, each strand catching the light that floods in. The fucker manages to sound cheerful as he hums, "wake up, sleepyheads." Tashi's already up, on a run around campus. You shield your eyes, burying your face in Patrick’s chest.

It took a little arm-twisting to get a dorm this big, but with the four of you (Pat's "taking a break" from going pro, which you're sure Tashi is annoyed with but bites her tongue about seeing how happy it makes you three), it's key. Although the four bunks are hardly all used at the same time...

The bathroom is cramped but neat. Art's gotten better at organizing his stuff after a few scoldings, Patrick is the real contributor to the mess. He shares a toothbrush with Art, which would be more disgusting if that was the only thing of Art's that Patrick puts in his mouth.

Getting ready is always an undertaking. Doing your skincare? Patrick lifts some of the cream from the jar, smells it and makes some dumb joke about using while jerking off, or something equally obscene. Art's not much better, nuzzling into your shoulder while you hold tops in front of you in the mirror, trying to pick an outfit. He gives generic, earnest advice like "pink looks nice. No, brown. Matches your eyes."

Eating out (no, not that kind) is funny. To walk into one of the cafés near Stanford like double daters, Patrick treading a hair's breadth behind Tashi and Art holding your hand. Perfectly normal until Tashi's leaning over the table to give you a kiss, and Patrick's gazing at Art with the kind of hunger he usually reserves for churros. You get a few stares.

When the sun goes down a couple of things may happen. Depsite it being Stanford, the dorms are still halfheartedly heated during the winter, and you collapse on the closest bed in a doggy pile, a blanket thrown over the heap. Art's arm slung over your torso like a seatbelt, Pat snoring in your ear and Tashi complaining about how she’s being suffocated before she dozes off.

Other nights, when you remember yourselves, beds are forgotten. Many a happy memory has been made on the rug, over the counter, in the shower. Gasping into Tashi's mouth as Patrick goes down on you, smirking at Art's pretty sighs as you suck marks into his chest and Patrick palms him roughly. Those are the nights you barely get sleep, sticky with sweat and immersed in worship.

The morning after used to be awkward, but now it's not. The first few times, shy glances and awkward chuckles filled the stale air, but now you wake to Tashi tracing your palm- marveling at the softness that comes without the hold of a racket- or a tray piled with food that the guys brought from the cafeteria. You're often sore in a pleasant way, but Tashi makes you stretch thoroughly. She even got you a yoga mat.

The sweetness of it comes from a casualness that feels like it's been earned. Reviewing your notes as you pace the room, the three watching you list things off with rapt attention, Patrick scowling over his textbook (he was lucky to even get accepted this late, you suspect influence from the Zwieg name) and stealing your highlighters and glitter pens to scribble in the margins. You and Pat come to their matches. You two yell and stomp the bleachers in tinny applause. You hold gaudy signs that read "GO DUNCANATOR!!" or "the ART of tennis" while Patrick blows exaggerated kisses (just to piss them off).

You don't remember exactly when it became official. It doesn't matter. Half asleep, feeling lips brush your shoulder, someone else's on the bridge of your nose, fingers stroking across your hip, you thank god that you hadn't turned down the rooming offer.

(I may add more later if inspiration strikes)

[irysque]

cowboy!atp… save me, cowboy!atp……

[lalrinsangi]

Love - Forty

Jannik Sinner x Reader

Summary - A girl's quest to find a home and a boy who already finds one in her

word count: 699

a/n: the next parts explore more of their relatioship

Part I

It began as a tentative shot at something impossible, a distant dream that she liked to toss around her head when there was nothing else to dream of. But that shot brought her to a life where home was always out of reach, like a vacation that never ends.

The first time she saw herself belonging to that life was under the scorching heat of the sun in Australia, she was playing her first ever Grand Slam Quarter Final and the load of her country’s hope weighed on her when she failed to hit the balls over the net, when she failed to reach a drop shot that she had anticipated, when the match was over and she wasn’t the one to scream.

It was then, that she decided there was no home for her; her hometown that she fought so hard to leave now screamed her name but she swore to never look back, she’s fighting for them but she knew that she could never go back. Home was a faint picture of her childhood home in the deepest part of her mind and heart, forever warm and unreachable.

She was a traveler with a country to win for, so she accepted and reveled in the transient warmth of big cities and cozy hotel rooms; the closest to home that she would ever feel.

This was what she told Jannik right before the start of Clay season the next year. He looked sympathetic, like a deer; she thought he looked more like a deer when the curls are hidden beneath his cap. There was a pause and she regretted her words, he was visibly uneasy because of the weight of her words, and because they have never moved past playful banters.

As was appropriate and natural, they were good friends because you cannot see each other at practices and events and not talk to each other, but even more so because their coaches were even better friends than they were.

Jannik had a home among the mountains in Italy, he loved his hometown so of course he would not understand but then he smiled and patted your back. “But home don’t always mean a place, no? Sometimes it’s the people.”

“Don’t feed me that crap Jan, of course I get it. Except I don’t believe in it, in my case.”

“What do you mean?” He was smiling now, always intrigued by the way you think, and always ready to tease you for it but agree with you in the end.

“It needs foundation. For the longest time, home was my hometown. Then I moved away, so did my family and we’re all living in different cities. I love my parents but I am my own person now and there has to be a place I picture when I say I want to go home; their house is not home for me anymore you get me?”

He nodded encouragingly. “And in my case, there’s the tour and I’ve already accepted my fate. And if I ever get married, my husband’s home will be my home then- “

He laughed, “of course it leads to feminism.” He was one of the very few men she could rant her thoughts on feminism to, so she did that often and she knew that he actually cared.

“But that’s not my point! I just- “

“No, no I get it. But I have to disagree with you, you know. It’s important, this, this stuff, family and everything. Home is where the people you love live because they are your home.”

“Foundations. Jannik”

“Oh, this will be hard. You are thinking too much about it no?”

“I know.”

“But it’s very nice that you are telling me this, I appreciate it.”

She smiled at him, and he beamed at her, “But you are still wrong.”

She did not know then that he would prove her wrong as many times as the points needed to win a game.

part II

[lvve-talks]

i got a little carried away with this on accident..... um anyway smut ahead mdni!!!!

thinking about the little hierarchy of being with the trio. it goes like this: you, patrick, art, then tashi. of course, you all love each other equally but you're the subbiest, the best behaved, always wanting to please the others. patrick is pure brat. he knows he can always have his way with you, but he gets the biggest thrill from riling up the other two. art doms you both, but when it comes down to it, he still answers to tashi.

art and tashi will already be at practice by the time you wake up to patrick wrapped around you, slowly, needily rutting against your ass. "come on, baby," he murmurs in your ear when you softly groan in protest. not because you don't want him, but because you know you're not supposed to do anything without the others.

"it's fiiiine," he whines, already panting against your cheek. "i won't tell if you don't. besides if you just.. don't cum it'll hardly count," he tries to reason with you, and you're already gone by the time his hand sneaks around your front and between your legs.

he fucks you like that, lazily on your sides, his arms wrapped around you holding you tightly against his front. it doesn't take you long to be whining in his ear "patrick, stop, stop, 'm gonna--" but he doesn't listen, still rubbing circles around your sensitive bud.

"hm?" he hums like he didn't hear your pleas.

"nonono, gonna cum, you have to stop," you beg him, tears springing to your eyes as that pleasure is building up in you so quickly and powerfully.

"you know what to say if you really want me to stop, baby," he whispers in your ear, a gruff challenge. you always know you can safe word if you need to. but the truth is, as much as you want to be good, you want this release more.

before you can answer, your orgasm washes over you suddenly, your back arching into his touch, unable to keep yourself from crying out.

he follows not long after, moaning and grunting in your ear as he spills inside you.

"patrickkk," you whine in protest, but your legs are still shaking, still panting as you come down from your high. "they're gonna know," you pout, knowing art and tashi aren't going to be happy if they find out the two of you fucked without them.

"hush," he huffs, burying his face in your neck as he slowly works through the after shocks of his own release. "it'll be fine," he casually reassures you. "how will they know?"

and realistically, they wouldn't have. if you got up and cleaned yourself off, that is. but the problem is, you both fell back asleep just like that, patrick still buried deep inside you, thighs all sticky with mixed fluids.

"look what we have here, baby," are the first words you hear as you slowly come back into consciousness. they're in the familiar purr of tashi's voice and you slowly blink the sleep from your eyes as she pulls the blankets back from the two of you to find you still entangled. "ohhhh," she lets out a disappointed sigh, shaking her head with a tut as she gets a good look at the way you and patrick are still joined.

when you slowly realize what's happening you scramble to push patrick off of you in your groggy state, but it's too late. tashi grabs your ankle and pulls you towards her at the edge of the bed, pressing your thighs apart to see patrick's release dripping out of you. "our little bunnies just couldn't wait, huh?"

tashi swipes a finger through you, gathering some of the sticky white dribbling out of you and held it up for art to see. he was standing at the end of the bed, deliciously sweat soaked from a hard practice, his biceps bulging as his arms cross over his chest. a clearly displeased look on his face.

"i'm sorry," you whimper, grasping tashi's wrist and giving her your best pleading eyes. "he- he made me! he--" you try and blame it all on patrick, but a gruff scoff cuts you off.

the brunet was slowly sitting up against the headboard now, pushing his curls back from his face sleepily. "come on. you wanted it," his face is entirely unapologetic as he smirks up at art.

"i told him no! told him we shouldn't!" you desperately plead your case with tashi, still gripping her wrist. she brings that cum covered finger down to your lips and, obediently, you take it into your mouth, effectively shutting you up.

"you told him no, huh?" she asks, glancing over to patrick. you whine in confirmation, but he just rolls his eyes.

"i told her she could safe word if she really didn't want it," he clarifies in his own defense. "and she didn't."

you whine around her finger again, knowing you're getting thrown under the bus here.

"you couldn't have waited two hours?" art finally speaks up, his tone clearly disapproving as he raises his eyebrows at patrick. he looks so commanding right now, riled up from working his body to its limits and then coming home to this.

tashi tuts again, her hand coming up to comb through your hair as you suck on her finger. "art worked so hard for me at practice today. and he has to come back to this? to see that you two couldn't even stop to consider waiting for us before getting off like little rabbits?"

"god, what's the big deal?" patrick groans, drawing the sharp glares of both of them. "you weren't here and we fucked. so what? you gonna resist that?" he gestures to your bare body. "we can go again, you know, it's not like we're completely fucked out after one round of morning sex," he scoffs like it's an insult to his stamina.

"it's the principle of the thing, patrick. shut up," art snaps back, looking like he wants to strangle the brunet. and patrick almost looks like he wants that too. getting scolded like that never failed to get him hard.

"lay down on the bed, baby," tashi instructs you gently, pulling her finger from your mouth. "on your belly."

"i- i didn't mean to be bad, i swear," you're still attempting to plead for forgiveness even as you do as she says.

"shhh, i know," she soothes, sitting so your head lays in her lap and smoothing down your hair as your fists clench at the sheets below you. "patrick," she turns to him, her voice much sharper, more demanding. "you wanna fuck her so bad?"

he nods, an unabashed smile on his face, his cock already leaking onto his abdomen once more.

"do it, then," she gestures to you laying spread out in front of her.

"what?" you ask, shock on your face as you look up at her.

patrick doesn't have to be told twice, grinning like he got away with murder as he crawls over to mount you, his hands spreading you open.

tashi hushes you gently again, watching incredulously as patrick slides right back into your leaking hole with a guttural groan.

you squeeze your eyes shut tight, gasping at the feeling of him stretching you open, nearly biting down on tashi's thigh to contain your moan. you can't understand why they're just letting this happen, no punishment in sight. you're gasping and moaning again in no time as patrick ruts into you, tashi cooing gently at you as she runs her hands through your hair.

you can vaguely hear art undressing behind you, but you're so distracted by the feeling of patrick you can hardly think until the bed is dipping behind the two of you and patrick is being pushed down onto your back. his thrusts slow to a halt as art's hands push his hips down, even deeper into you as you both let out desperate sounds in tandem.

you hear the sound of art spitting, and then "fuck!" patrick cries as art sinks into his hole. he tries to push himself up with his arms caging you in, but art is quick to grab both of them, pinning them against his back and forcing him down flat against you.

you can't help but whimper with each of art's rough thrusts sending patrick deeper into you. patrick is breathless, moaning and panting and crying into your ear as he's pinned between the two of you.

"you can fucking take it," art grunts from behind him. "said you weren't all fucked out yet. what happened?" the blond taunts patrick as he wraps his free hand around his throat. all he can do is let out a broken moan in response.

you train your teary eyes up at tashi who has a wicked glint in her own, an easy, casual smile on her face as she watches patrick me taken apart piece by piece. you squeeze her thigh to get her attention, a breathless "please," leaving your lips in a whine. you don't even really know what you're begging for, but you need something, simultaneously being fucked and neglected at the same time.

she looks down at you, still petting your head soothingly. "shh, baby. let art have his fun. you already got yours," she answers as if speaking to a child.

"didn't-- mean to, didn't want it-- ngg-" you try and reason again, but she cuts you off with a shake of her head.

"no excuses. you were greedy, too. be good and just take it, okay?" she tells you, patting your head.

you whine softly, burying your head in her thigh again as patrick's desperate pants and grunts in your ear turn into high pitched whines.

you gasp as he releases inside you again, the feeling of being flooded with his warmth making your head even fuzzier. but art doesn't stop. even when patrick starts squirming beneath him, crying out in oversensitivity. "pleasepleaseplease--!" he cries, words slurring together. "too much!"

"shut up," art grunts again, gripping his throat tighter. "you couldn't wait for me, you're just going to have to deal with it," he tells him, but his thrusts are starting to get sloppier. you know he's close, but you haven't finished yet and you're only starting to get more desperate. it's just not enough.

"please, tashi.." you whisper again, nails digging into her flesh as you beg for something, anything.

"what? it's not enough for you?" she asks a mocking pout on your lips. "but you already got off today, so what's the matter?"

"please--!" you beg again, but it's too late. with a loud groan, art's burying himself deep into patrick with his release.

for awhile, there's only a chorus of panting breaths as we each cool down before art is slowly pulling pack out of patrick, releasing his arms and pressing kisses down his spine. he has to roll him over to get him off of you, pressing a kiss to your back in turn.

"gonna wait next time?" tashi asks, lifting your head up from her lap.

"yes," you whine at the same time patrick breathes "hell no."

[tacobacoyeet]

now playing: ava's challengers anniversary playlist

TRACKLIST 01. lollipop – atp x reader 02. lavender haze (acoustic) – art x reader 03. wussup - artrick x reader 04. let’s be friends – tashi x reader 05. a kiss – patrick x reader 06. harder to breathe – art x reader 07. ever since new york – patrick x reader 08. love me harder – art x reader 09. princess of china – patrick x reader 10. where were you in the morning? – art x reader 11. like real people do – tashi x reader 12. bodyguard - patrick x reader 13. morning light - art x reader 14. my boo - atp x reader

BONUS TRACKS 01. grow up – art x patrick 02. we cry together – patrick x tashi 03. hum hallelujah – art x tashi

2 fics per day • links will go live as fics post • celebration hosted by tacobacoyeet • songs are linked to numbers • celebration will take place from april 19, 2025 - april 26, 2025 • i will not be answering requests during this week