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#patrick zweig fanfiction
nottsangel · 3 days
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art would be eating you out but patrick gets jealous and they both fight to eat you out 🤗🤗
warnings: smut 18+, oral sex (f. receiving)
“fuck, right there! feels so good, art” you moaned as you ran your fingers through art’s blonde locks. his hands were pushing your legs further apart while he sucked on your clit so expertly, making you arch your back.
from your peripheral vision, you noticed patrick’s knee bouncing up and down, his painfully hard erection clearly visible in his pants as well as a wet patch forming on the fabric from precum. you promised he would get his turn after art, but with each passing second, it became increasingly difficult for patrick to just sit still and watch while soft moans left your pretty lips— it was torture.
“i can’t fucking take this anymore.” patrick muttered under his breath as he abruptly rose to his feet and marched towards the both of you before getting on his knees next to art and bumping his shoulder into art’s, causing him to stumble to the right. “what the fuck are you doing?” art snarled as he pushed patrick back with both his hands on his chest right when patrick was about to bury his head between your thighs. he tumbled backwards, giving art enough time to move his head to your cunt once again and pick up where he left off.
you smirked while observing the scene happening right between your legs, but without interfering as you let the boys fight for you. “just— let me join” patrick urged as he tried to squeeze his head between art’s and your left thigh, forcing himself to your dripping cunt. you grasped the sheets when you felt both their tongues eagerly against your pussy, fighting for dominance as you simultaneously felt their wandering hands all over your body.
the pleasure kept building, feeling as if you were in heaven with your right hand running through art’s blonde hair and your left through patrick’s curly locks. both of them occasionally made eye contact with you, causing your heart to skip a beat as they moaned into your core, the vibrations adding to the immense pleasure you were experiencing. “so fucking good, oh my god”
it was so fucking messy— saliva running down their chins mixed with your juices as they were fully making out with each other at this point. it became too much when one of them—you don’t even know who— pushed two fingers into your dripping hole before curling them up so perfectly, hitting your g-spot in no time and sending you over the edge.
“oh— oh my god, i’m coming— fuck!” a string of curse words left your lips as you firmly pulled both of their hair and arched your back, a wave of pleasure overtaking you as your eyes fluttered shut.
you slowly came down from one of the most intense orgasms you’ve had in a long time, your chest heaving up and down before slowly opening your eyes again, gazing down as both of their wide eyes stared up at you with mouths agape.
“fuck, that— that was so hot.” art stammered, shaking his head as he let out a chuckle. he then looked to the side, seeing patrick’s flushed face before gazing down at his crotch, the wet patch significantly more prominent, causing art’s smile to grow even wider. “did you just cum in your pants?” “can you blame me?”
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wyniepooh · 2 days
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game
patrick loves playing with his favourite game: you.
patrick!zweig x reader. short drabble about how manipulative patrick can be. mdni; 18+
patrick kisses with the same confidence that he has out on the court.
he seemed to make everything in his life out to be a calculated game; but it was a game he was damn good at. he seemed to always know exactly what the person opposite him wants, and knows exactly how to use that against them. you’ve begun to realize that this is precisely how patrick always wins.
“all this for me, honey?” he’d murmur against your hair, hands fiddling with the short hem of your skirt and the low neckline of your top. he’d nibble and plant wet marks all over your body, leaving you gasping against the cold metal of the locker, thoughts long gone on who could walk into the unlocked change room at any moment.
your lips instinctively part when you feel the rough edge of his nails rubbing against your chin, and when he asks, “you all worked up like this from watching me play?” you could cry from how mean he’s being, practically pleading for an answer from you with a proud grin and sparkling eyes, knowing you can’t speak with his fingers down your throat.
except you can’t help but pull him even closer at his shameless actions, disregarding his damp body, slick with sweat. feeling him rub against you with his dark curls tickling your cheek, you loudly mewl, stopping yourself only by burying your face in his warm chest.
drool spills from your mouth and your teary eyes roll back as his hand moves up your thighs and pushes your legs apart. You smile and giggle sluggishly and try your best to to form a coherent sentence when he pulls back and demands,
“how else are you going to congratulate me for my win?”
but you know it’s useless to even try, because when his lips connect with yours once more, you know you’ve already lost the game.
-
a/n: this is for that one anon who said that there is a serious lack of Patrick fics I FEEL YOU AND I GOT U
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kisses4kaia · 15 days
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plsss I NEED switch!Patrick x switch!Reader with like, him being dominant in the beginning and sub in the end, with them mentioning art the whole time trying to make each other jealous about him? Idk if it make sense but kinda like when tashi was saying patrick should be intimidated by art except in that case they both had sex with him (separately) and they're more like "yeah? can art make you cum this fast hm?" etc
okay👍👍👍👍👍(im actually drooling this is so good ty angelnon)
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“on his birthday, i fucked him so good he forgot his own name,” patrick boasted, pressing hot, angry, open-mouthed kisses to your puffy lips. “i do that everyday,” you breath out, pulling your shorts down desperately, throwing them somewhere obscured in your tiny dorm. he’d already undressed amidst the heat of your quarreling, and you were grateful. you didn’t know how long you could wait and stay sane before he would finally fuck you.
patrick huffs from above you, throwing your leg over his shoulder and bullying his unfairly sized cock into your cunt. he’s ramming into you at such a speed where you can hardly feel when he’s snapping his hips back and at what point does he push back in. “i fuck him better, i fuck him so much better,” is all you can mutter out, tugging on patrick’s hair as your hips grind up onto his un-groomed pelvis, unable to get close enough to him. “mm-mm, nope. have you ever made him cum dry? i have.”
“he ever let you film him?” is your rebuttal, smirking cruelly at patrick as he nearly whimpers at your confession; he makes a mental note to himself to ensure he sees it—by any means necessary.
patrick quickly finds himself getting lost in the heat of it all, the brutal nips at his throat upon dipping his head in the crook of your neck make him melt.
he’s made himself pliable enough for you to ease his full weight onto you with no protest. he whines as you slip his cock out of you, but his head stays buried in the junction between your head and shoulder. your hand slides between the two of you, tugging at his cock and using your free hand to prompt him to look you in the eye.
“you wanna come?” you falsely pout at the darkened blue eyes boring into yours. “mhm, yes. please,” he says, not really begging because he knows you would never deny him an orgasm… right?
“say you can’t fuck him like i can.” your voice is completely devoid of any of the sweetness dripping from it just moments ago. patrick shakes his head ‘no’, resulting in a harsh tug on his scalp. “so what i’m hearing is you really want me to get up and make you watch me get myself off, and then leave? that’s what you want, patrick?”
he shakes his head fervently, “no, no, no, please,” if he’s begging to cum or begging to change the conditions, you don’t know, but you cup your palm over patrick’s flushed tip regardless, circling over it and making him squirm atop you.
“say it.”
“i can’t fuck him like you can! fuck, you’re better than me, so much fucking better. please, i wanna cum, pleasepleasepleaseplease—“
he’s had enough, you’d decided. “cum, patrick.”
those words have him unraveling, a load unlike one you’ve ever seen comes out of him, shooting all over his and your bare stomachs and your hand.
his dick fucks into your hand languidly as he rides out his own climax. you make sure to clean him up with your mouth, and patrick’s fingers drive you to your finish.
and when the high is gone and the smell of sex in lingering in your dorm, you fall asleep on your friend’s chest.
little do you know, when patrick is sure you’re asleep, he grabs your phone, punches in tashi’s birthday for your password, and opens your camera roll. he’s only looking for one thing when he not only finds the amateur film, but also photos of his girlfriend’s naked body splayed out on the very bed he lie on now.
he looks at you no different the next morning.
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leclercstars · 19 days
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perfectly matched.
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college!art donaldson x reader
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Summary: You and Art swore to never speak of that drunken night again. But you found yourselves together at your college bar, tipsy, and almost unable to resist each other. Warnings: SMUT! 18! alcohol usage, drunk sex, cursing, biting, protected sex
It was one night.
One night, three months ago. Swept up in too many celebratory glasses of champagne. His messy blonde curls looked like a halo with your blurred vision. The traces of liquor on his upper lip seemed to be beckoning you in, begging you to find out if it was vodka or tequila. You left at the same time, he had offered to walk you home. Always a gentleman, always seemed to care about you. You both were stumbling, the drinks hitting the two of you all at once. You ended up outside your house, and then inside your house, up your stairs, in your bedroom. You’d seen his strong hands gripping the racket before but god they looked even better gripping your ass. Clothes thrown all over the room, not able to undress each other fast enough. His chiseled collarbones the perfect culprit for you to leave bite marks along. You woke up the next morning, head pounding, still naked. You felt him next to you, his tight abs pressed against your bare back, curls tickling the side of your neck. Fuck, how could you let that happen. He left in a haste, each of you promising to not discuss the events of the night prior ever again.
And now here you were. A few too many double vodka lemonades deep inside your shitty college bar. The whole team had decided to go out to celebrate the end of a stellar season and unfortunately, Art looked just as good as ever. His backwards Stanford cap and his loose Budweiser t-shirt made him look like some sort of shitty frat guy, which certainly wasn't unappealing to you since that tended to be your type. You tried to play it cool when he walked over to you. “Having fun?” he smirked, sidling up on the barstool next to yours. He leaned back against the bar, looking so perfectly relaxed. How do people end up this sexy?
“Could be having more fun,” you said casually, sipping your drink. Wait. What the fuck. Why did you just say that. You knew you had drank quite a bit but jesus christ isn’t it supposed to be liquid courage not liquid “ruin this friendship?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Art, looking genuinely confused. God sometimes his innocence was almost a little annoying, made you want him even more half the time.
“Sorry, geez I should not have said that,” you were slurring, the alcohol and your emotions making it hard to think straight.
He leaned in closer to you. You could smell the tequila on his breath, knowing that was his liquor of choice from the last time this happened. “I think I can make this night a whole lot more fun,” Art growled. 
You had never heard his voice sound like that before. Low and lusting, you knew you were not going to be able to resist. You locked eyes with him, and you could just feel how needy you probably looked. The two of you got up and left without saying goodbye.
Art was gentle. He was caring, a shoulder to cry on. Someone you could turn to if you were having a bad day and needed a hug. That side of him was not so apparent behind your bedroom door. He pinned you against the wall, muscles rippling in your face as he sucked on your neck. Your moans were soft, hands pulling on his curls, earning equally soft groans from him. You were obsessed, this didn’t happen often and you knew you had to take in every moment. Every inch of him that you could feel, taste, touch, it was completely overtaking you. His boxers were sitting low on his hips, exposing his v-line. Your lacy bralette had been tossed aside, leaving your nipples free to be caressed by his rough hands. His mouth roamed from your neck down to your tits, taking one in his mouth as he gazed up at you. Fuck, your head rolled back against the wall. His eyes were shut, tongue flicking so expertly across your nipple. You never wanted this image of him, looking so intoxicated with your body, to leave your mind.
He stood back up, leaving no room between your now naked bodies. Suddenly his features softened, a nervousness painting itself across his face. He scratched the back of his head, a tell-tale sign that something was on his mind. “Do you want to like-” he was basically whispering, cheeks flushed. It was astonishing how all his confidence had suddenly evaporated. “Fuck?” you filled in the blank, leaning closer to his lips, teasing him with the thought. That hadn’t happened last time you were together. He was too drunk, and well,  he just couldn’t quite get it up. “Yeah, fuck yes please.” he groaned. You laid down on your bed as he walked to his wallet, pulling out that little gold wrapper. He climbed up on top of you, using his thumb to gently brush the hair away from your face. He looked ecstatic, the drunken-ness painting a stupid grin across his face and making you just feel insanely horny. He slid the condom on over his already throbbing cock, positioning it just outside your entrance.
He slid just the tip in first, making you wince. You needed to get used to how big he was, learn how to take him. His hips rocked gently as he gave you more each time, slowly starting to fill you up.
“God I needed this,” you moaned breathlessly. “Yeah baby?” he cooed, giving you more of him as he pressed his lips against your tits, leaving marks along your cleavage. “Making sure you don’t forget this in the morning,” he smirked, his confidence returning. “Then fuck me like I won’t forget it,” you clapped back, basically saying you wanted all of him.
“Oh yeah?” He thrusted inside you, making you cry out in ecstasy. No dick had ever felt this good before, and maybe it was because you were drunk, but you could just tell he was hitting it like he fucking meant it. Your hands clawed into his back, legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper inside. He was pounding into you now, the sound of your bodies echoing throughout the room. You watched as he slid in and out. “You like watching huh baby? Like seeing how good you are at taking me?” 
You grabbed his hair in response, pulling his head into your neck and making him groan and fuck you harder. His tip found your g-spot, and the feeling was unlike any other. Watching his muscles ripple with each thrust, so far inside you he was nearly in your stomach. You squirted all around his cock, leaving his abs glistening. He bit his lip and looked at you, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “God that is so hot.” he wasted no time getting back to the rhythm of things.
This sex was truly unlike anything else. Watching the man you saw as a teammate, so vulnerable above you. Completely naked, so far inside you. And you were taking him so well, the sexual chemistry between the two of you just completely undeniable. You made great hitting partners on the court, and that relationship suddenly didn’t feel so different from this one. The way you both knew exactly what the other wanted. The perfect balance of teasing and support. “Fuck, fuck.” Art’s moans were primal, and you could feel how close he was getting, watching his arms tense up. “I’m gonna cum too,” you said breathlessly.
“Look at me,” he grabbed your jaw, making you lock eyes.
It was like an explosion, overtaking every inch of skin on your body. You cried out, feeling his cock throb inside your pussy as you came simultaneously. You fit perfectly together, feeling each other up as you rode out your orgasms. His hand was wrapped around your arm, yours clawed into his back. He collapsed onto your chest, looking up at you in awe.
“You are unbelievable.”
dividers by : @.cafekitsune
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laurenluvss · 14 days
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not to be that type of person but i already called dibs on him ages ago so... 😒 xx
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leclercstarrs · 7 days
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having a threesome with art and patrick ; mdni
you’re on all fours on the bed, patrick kneeling behind you, his hard cock eagerly waiting to enter your cunt. in front of you, standing just at the edge of your bed, art is holding his cock, sliding his wet tip along your plump lips, waiting for you to grant him access to your mouth.
“open up for him, baby.” patrick bends over, pressing his chest right to your back and whispering in your ear. you follow his commands and part your lips, letting art slide his cock into your mouth. he reaches the back of your throat, stuffing your mouth, tears gathering in your eyes. “good girl.” patrick coos.
as you adjust to art in your mouth, patrick straightens up again and slowly glides his cock into your tight cunt. “mm, too big.” you whine.
“i think you can take it, baby.” art says in a mockingly sweet tone, looking down at you with lust in his eyes. “there you go, look at you, taking us so well.” art continues as patrick positions himself into you fully, filling your cunt with his entire length.
“ready, bunny?” patrick teases you with the nickname.
you eagerly nod your head and patrick immediately starts thrusting his cock into you, the walls of your cunt clenching in response. “fuck, patrick!” you moan, however to the two boys it sounds muffled as with each thrust from patrick, your lips wrap around art’s cock.
patrick continues fucking you, hitting your sweet spot every time. art lets out low groans, his hands gripping your hair as your mouth sucks him off in the same pattern as patrick’s hip movements. “shit, that’s so good.” art whimpers and bites down on his bottom lip.
“she’s so tight, you have to try her.” patrick smirks, looking up from your body to make eye contact with art. “you’re doing so good.” he looks back down, intensely watching as your cunt takes his cock with each thrust. “your pussy feels so good.”
a few more thrusts later and art and patrick blow their loads at the same time. patrick fills your cunt with his seed and art pulls out of your mouth last second, covering your lashes and lips with thick ropes of his cum.
“i call fucking her next.” art heaves.
“deal.” patrick laughs.
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faetreides · 16 days
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patrick probably whines when you bounce on his cock.
cw: 18+ mdni, au of the ending where patrick wins (no infidelity btw, he and tashi never did anything), implied drug use, car sex mention, riding, afab reader, reader is naked/patrick is fully clothed, lowkey gross & nasty, breeding kink (i’m ovulating rn), unprotected p in v sex, slight degradation, unedited
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You’re just so proud of your boyfriend, you can’t help but jump his bones immediately. You see Patrick running towards after his match, and you race to vault yourself into his arms. He laughs wholeheartedly and spins you around, partly happy because you seem to be so happy for him. He’s still in a state of shock, to be honest. Everything was leading up to Art cementing his place in his career, but Patrick had managed to beat him in the end. No one could believe it, Patrick’s hope had been almost completely gone by that point. But he did it, and maybe now he can leave behind the needles and scrimping pennies.
He still hasn’t processed anything, but your lips and giggles are too good to ignore. You gasp as he picks you up by gripping onto your thighs and hoisting your legs around his waist. You rock your clothed core against his abs for a second, in dire need of a little friction. Patrick makes the kiss messy, pushing more of his spit into the intense lip locking. He flicks away the string of saliva that connects your lips when he ducks back to look at you. You grin, eyes wide and cheeks blazing with heat. It’s a stupid decision, but you throw your body weight around to get Patrick to fall onto the bed with you.
“Fuck!” He shouts, darting his hands around the back of your head and digging his knees into the mattress so he doesn’t fall out. “Couldn’t have waited a little bit, are you a greedy whore all of a sudden?”
You shrug, “Maybe, but you’d like it if I was. Now come here, we have to celebrate.”
With that, you leg your legs fall open and put on your most convincing pout, beckoning your boyfriend to get a move on already. Seeing him sweat in those slutty shorts and hearing him grunt whenever he hit the ball really gets you going, something that you didn’t think was possible until you got an athlete boyfriend. It’s a competition to find out who can be the most insanely horny in the relationship at this point, and if Patrick ever got a hold of your diary, he’d agree that you win by a landslide.
Patrick latches onto your shoulders and spins to lie flat on his back with you on top of him. You adjust your position, jostling your hips until you’re positioned right over his hard bulge. You’re too busy getting lost in a flurry of clothes as you both kind of awkwardly undress on the bed, but eventually his pants are pulled down enough for his cock to spring free while you’re fully naked. You look like a porn star to him, teasingly swiveling your hips in the most seductive way possible.
He smirks and throws his arms behind his head, “I thought you were supposed to be my prize, what happened to making me feel like a winner?”
You bite you rlip, digging your nails into his pecs, “It’s not my fault you’re too keyed up to not cum immediately, savoring this is possible, you know?”
Patrick rolls his eyes and smiles, not picking a fight with you on that. Sometimes you like to get yourself worked up too, with his thick cock gliding in between your folds and mixing your juices together.
You lift your ass and throw a certain look towards him, and he tries not to be too smug as he wraps a large hand around the base of his hard cock. He holds the rigid length upright so all you have to do is hover over it and plop yourself right down on it. He doesn’t pump himself while he waits, he wanted to fuck before the match but you wouldn’t let him. You said it’d be better for him to have all this energy stored up.
You get restless and start to sink down on his cock, the stretch always takes some breath out of you but you were the one that decided to wait until now. Once he’s bottomed out, you’ve given up on teasing him until he breaks you entirely. You lift your hips until the tip of his dick catches on your hole and then slam down, starting off with a realsitically unattainable fast pace.
His fingers dig into the fat of your bouncing ass cheeks, “You’re inflating my ego too much, making me feel like a big shot getting fresh pussy in his hotel room.”
You moan, keeping eye contact as you fuck him into the mattress, “You- You are a big shot, babe. Shit- Just lie back and relax…”
The smell permeating in the room is already so pungent. Patrick’s natural musk intertwining with your own, if anyone else walked in they might faint, but to you two, you could cum from the scent of your sex by now. Being the same kind of freak in that regard brought you both so much closer if anything. You grind your pubes down against his, clenching on his dick on purpose. The friction is delicious for your clit, so you do it again.
He throws his head back, reaching up to curl one of his hands around your throat as you ride him, “Uh huh, that’s my dirty slut, so wet and tight for me.”
His words trail off into a squeaky whine as you speed up, truthfully losing stamina a bit but still determined to celebrate your boyfriend properly. You lean to press your sweaty tits right up against his own, and you whisper in his ear about this being a repeating occurrence.
“Maybe someday we’ll have a baby to put to bed first before we can do this, get them to wave at you from the stands and then pass them off to you when we’d see you after you win.” You lick the shell of his ear as you speed up, ignoring the embarrassing wet smacks of your slick ass against his hip bone. “Wouldn’t it be cute, me with a chubby baby on my hip that looks like you and another one already in my belly?”
“You’re a fuckin’ demon, i swear.” Patrick moans, giving you little whines here and there when you seem to really hit the spot. “Yeah, it’d be cute.”
What better way to celebrate than by having a baby?
He pulls you down by your neck to french kiss you, his tongue twisting around yours. The sheets are soaked by now and you don’t want to even imagine what the staff who have to clean his room will find. Random bits of fluid and the stench of sex heavy in the air, you’ll have to remember to leave some cash for a tip to ease your conscience.
You tighten your walls around him in short bursts until he’s clawing at your ass and smacking it extremely hard as he cums inside you. The stinging is a pleasant catalyst for your own orgasm soon after. You can’t wait to see how dirty you get his car seats.
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demigoddessqueens · 16 days
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—— —WHAT YOU DO TO ME
A/n - I finally got to see Challengers (GREAT MOVIE!) and ofc Patrick and Art are the whole ass disasters who only made it all the more entertaining
Tags - 18+, smut, nsfw
Masterlist 10
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art
Such a service top (or bottom!)
LOVES giving oral, feeling your thighs around his face
Maybe some face riding 👀
Bit of a praise kink going on for him!
Pull his hair to hear him moan
Missionary is his favorite to see your face, your reactions to how he’s making you feel
AFTERCARE KING
patrick
A whole fuckboiy who is super handsy!
Likes when you ride him cowgirl style, front and back.
Doggy-style 👌
Also has a bit of a praise kink too! Let him know he’s doing enough, is enough
Leans more into the dom, but can be a soft dom at times
LOVES when you go down on him, holding your head there
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pnkstalli · 11 days
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𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 | challengers masterlist
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pairings: t. duncan x black!oc, a. donaldson x black!oc, p. zweig x black!oc
summary: if tashi duncan’s name is on something, then dawn henley’s was right behind it. it has been that way throughout their friendship and within the tennis courts. tashi was the star, while dawn was the sweet, naive understudy. but what happens when the star’s brightness dims at the peak of her career while the understudy suddenly takes over the show? what happens when two love-stricken tennis players, art donaldson and patrick zweig, swivel themselves into the mix? a decades-long pattern of passion, love, heartbreak, revenge, and tennis gets created.
warnings:  SPOILERS FOR THE MOVIE CHALLENGERS (2024), potential smut/sexual situations, angst, swearing, descriptions of manipulation, infidelity (emotional and physical), 
a/n: this is my very first fic on tumblr. i am not a tumblr savvy person, so tips and tricks are very much needed. This is also the first fic i’ve written in years, so critique is also needed (be nice pls). Most of this fic will be in lowercase, so if you don’t like that…sorry? anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this series lolz <3 
________________________________________
000. dawn henley aesthetic
prologue/chap. one sneak peek
prologue *COMING SOON*
i. super rich kids *COMING SOON*
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victoria-daydreams · 3 days
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The Winner Takes It All||Challengers
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AN: So, I finally I got to see Challengers yesterday and boy do I have thoughts that may or may not be weaved into the story, things still might be ooc or wrong. Also, I'm warning y'all now, I know absolutely nothing about tennis/college and partook in half ass research on how the sport functions.
Based this fic off the most gut wrenching ABBA song because it fits so well with the story. I hope you all enjoy this mini series, don't know if I did it justice from translating this from my head onto Tumblr, but we move. And hopefully there aren't any spelling or grammar errors, but if there are, we die like men.
A playlist for this series is coming soon!
Word Count: 3.5k
Trigger Warnings: mentions of colorism and racism
Taglist: @seriousaliysa @hopless-y @malscorner @miximora @urfavesim @mmmunson @jackierose902109 @youngestxhearts @blkdivinefeminine @kailkailz @lottiematthewsceo @lonnie2390147 @begoniaespresso @everydayimagineer @pnkstalli @softimgyu @amethystwonders11 @hazbinh0e @ysuftmikey
I tried to tag everyone who commented, but tumblr is being weird so I don't know if you'll get the notification.
Part One: Sugar & Spice
With her arms folded across her chest, Gianna's eyes were glued to the TV screen in front of her as two male sports analysts began to discuss their pick for match of the day.
"Oh man, this right here was my favorite today!" one analyst stated excitedly.
"For sure! It was the match to watch as the tennis world bore witness to the next up-and-coming tennis star," the other commentator agreed.
The camera cut away from the men and to the highlights of the mixed doubles championship match.
"Out the gate Gianna Langdon, ranked number five in girls singles, set the the tone for the day with a powerful ace to start the match,"
A clip of the opening minute of the match is put on the screen with Gianna throwing the ball high in the air for the first, and perfectly executed serve, followed by her pumping her fist in triumph with a grin.
"From there, she and her partner, Max Sullivan, kept their opponents, Roy Christians and Marie Riviera on the back foot for what seemed like the entire match,"
Gianna studied the way she nimbly moved around on the grass court, her swift volleys, sharp serves, and effortless backhands left no room for doubt that she was a force to be reckoned with.
"Play of the match goes to none other than Gianna Langdon, with this volley to put the nail in the coffin of this championship," the analyst reported, as the final moments of the match popped up on the screen.
With a powerful strike, the tennis ball was slammed back over the net by Roy onto Gianna's side of the court. Roy's hit lifted the ball high into the air forcing Gianna to reposition herself and backpedal to the spot to return it. Leaping up, Gianna smashed the ball down with force, out of reach from both Marie and Roy, the game winning hit. The clip replayed, but only this time in slow motion, so viewers at home could properly admire the athleticism on display. ESPN then did a jump cut of Gianna and Max both dropping their rackets simultaneously before rushing towards each other to embrace. Max even lifted up her a bit, twirling them around as they celebrated their victory.
The camera panned back to the two commentators who were wrapping up their coverage of the tournament.
"Honestly, Gianna Langdon just dominates the tennis field for her age group whether it's single or doubles," the commentator complimented, gathering his papers up in his hands and tapping it against the desk.
Gianna's lips lifted at the praise, its rare she gets her flowers as a tennis player.
"She's a force to be reckoned with, no doubt about that. If she keeps playing like she is now, she can easily break into the top three, but she's no Tashi Duncan," the other commentator corrected.
At this, her smile instantly fell off her face. Since freshman year of high school, Gianna has forever lived under the inescapable shadow of the phenomenal, powerhouse that is Tashi Duncan. Because Tashi wasn't just some athlete, she was the athlete. The next Serena Williams, as some people taken to calling her. Gianna might as well been chopped liver.
The girls have been thick as thieves since Gianna moved to the same school as Tashi and was paired up by their coach to be doubles partners. The duo were unstoppable on the court, as Gianna was a tennis prodigy in her own right, but often was relegated to just being known as Tashi Duncan's partner. A repeated slight which didn't go unnoticed by her two strongest supporters, her parents. They made it their mission to drill Gianna with an unshakable sense of self confidence in not only her skills with a tennis racket, but also her appearance.
"Don't you ever let the media or naysayers play in your face about your talents, Gianna," her father's words echoing in her head. "You already know, you have to work twice as hard to get half the recognition compared to others," he went on.
Gianna recalled the exact day, he gave her this speech. She was probably fifteen and won a match against some Eastern European girl, it was an upset, and boy did everyone make it a point to tell her so. It ranged from backhanded compliments to outright slurs lobbed at her.
"Oh, so when Tashi pulverizes her opponent on the court who's ranked higher than her it's admirable, but when I do it's a problem!" she complained.
"Competing against Tashi, you need to be prepared that narratives are going to be formed and pushed from factors beyond your control," her father warned. "She's lighter, you're darker. She's thin, you have curves. You're both confident, but only one of you is going to be labeled as arrogant," he listed.
"It's a shame we didn't get to see Duncan and Langdon compete together in girls doubles this year," the analyst said, snapping Gianna out her thoughts.
"Agreed, the best girl duo in juniors we've seen in years,"
Images of Gianna and Tashi materialized on the screen, some were from the last two Junior US Open Championships; both of the, proudly beaming and holding their trophies high above their heads and kissing each other's cheek. But, the one picture that stood out the most to Gianna was their cover on Tennis. Both of them had their arms folded and their game faces on with the headline emblazoned below them.
“Sugar & Spice”
~~~x~~~
Rounding the corner of the hallway, the doors where Tashi's party was being held outside came into Gianna's view. Music and the low murmur of voices floated out of the room, bouncing off the walls as she drew closer. From the corner of Gianna's eyes, she caught her reflection in the hallway mirror promoting her to stop. A pair of eyes, identical to color of rich, molasses stared back at her. Carefully, Gianna studied herself in the mirror from every angle. The healthy glow of her golden, deep brown skin made the light dusting of freckles decorating her upper cheeks and nose more prominent.
"She's no Tashi Duncan,"
It only took those four, little words to dampen Gianna's cheery demeanor and leave her brooding since the afternoon.
Lips pursed, she shook her head slightly, "No, no, no," she whispered to herself. "You're still a champion, Gianna. Fuck that ESPN analyst," she said lowly, smoothing out the pale yellow halter dress she wore.
Letting a lopsided grin grow on her lips, Gianna moved away from the mirror and entered into the ballroom where the party was in full swing. She weaved her way through the crowd to find Tashi, but found herself stopping repeatedly to smile and shake hands as people crowded round her to congratulate her on her match. Gianna couldn't help but feel smug. For once, people were basking in her presence and enjoying the chance to meet a future tennis star in person. It boosted Gianna's ego—a pure, bone-deep satisfaction that something in the air was beginning to shift.
She was starting to be seen as a standout player, not just an extension to Tashi.
Thanking her last well wisher, Gianna's eyes met Tashi's who was a few feet from where she stood. A flicker of recognition flittered across her face and she smiled a tiny smile. Tashi was not alone though, two boys were standing in front her and seemed to be having a very lively conversation.
"What's this I see?" Gianna wondered aloud, brushing past one of the boys. "I'm gone for a minute and you're already making new friends without me," she joked, dropping into the empty chair next to Tashi.
Across from her, both boys were slack jawed and unable to tear their eyes away Gianna. Pride simmered in her chest, Gianna already knew that she was beautiful, but it was nice to be reminded of that fact every now and then. Especially, when there's two boys ogling at her looks and treating her like a divine being.
"You boys gonna stop staring and introduce yourselves, or what?" Gianna questioned, her words flavored with a lulling Louisiana drawl and the boys snapped from their stupor.
"Let me, these two seem to be malfunctioning," Tashi cut in, with a smirk.
"They keep on drooling any longer, they'll catch flies," Gianna quipped, her nude colored lips curling upwards.
Tashi motioned to the dark haired boy with sharp features, "This is Patrick Zweig," she introduced, as Gianna's eyes met Patrick's gray ones, holding her stare and grinning widely. Confidence that bordered on cockiness practically radiated off him. "And this is Art Donaldson," Tashi continued, gesturing to the boy next to Patrick.
Art only allowed himself a small, shy, smile when her eyes shifted over to him. Unabashedly, Gianna let her eyes roam over Art's features. Those blond curls, those blue eyes.
God, they're both gorgeous.
Tashi placed her hand on Gianna's knee, "Patrick and Art, this is my best friend—" she started.
"Gianna Langdon," Patrick and Art interjected simultaneously, causing a Cheshire grin to form on Gianna's lips.
"Well, well, my fan club only continues to grow this tournament," Gianna joked, playing with the curly ends of her pick and drop braids.
"Deservedly so, you were absolutely amazing this tournament," Art complimented, a breathy chuckle leaving him.
"That play when you landed a split after playing a return," Patrick mentioned, beaming at her. "And you still got the point, fucking incredible!" he praised, shaking his head.
She smiled, "Oh, so you two have been avidly watching my matches then?" Gianna questioned, playfulness in her voice while slightly leaning forward in her seat.
"Ashamedly, not initially," Art admitted, and Gianna quirked brow. "But after your storybook comeback in Round 4, we knew there was no way we couldn’t stop watching you," he added quickly.
"Singles or doubles," Patrick chimed in.
"Did you by chance watch any of our matches, Gianna?" Art asked timidly, staring at her with hopeful eyes.
She smirked, "Singles or doubles?" Gianna asked back, smoothly echoing Patrick's words.
"Either," Patrick responded, his eyes drinking her in.
They both seemed mesmerized. Leaning in closer, as if they were going to learn her with their close proximity. Gianna hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in her chair and raising a finger to her chin to mull over the question. She glanced over to Tashi, who was already watching her with an amused expression. Embarrassingly, Gianna kind of forgot her best friend was literally sitting next to her, she had become too engrossed in her conversation with the newcomers.
"No, can't say that I have," Gianna answered finally, with a shrug.
Art deflated, his face falling as the tips of his ears went fiery red, while Patrick's shoulders sagged a little.
"O-Oh," Art breathed.
There was a silence. Gianna looked off to her side again to see a ghost of a grin threatening to appear on Tashi's face. When the two girls' eyes connected with each other, they burst out laughing at the same time. Both boys looked at each other wordlessly, both speechless by this.
"Gia's just fucking with you two," Tashi explained, in between laughter.
Relief couldn't have been written across their faces more clearly.
"Yeah, I actually watched your championship match while I was in the recovery room," Gianna informed, her giggles subsiding. "Your between the legs shot was very inspired, Patrick," she remarked, with a smile.
At this, Patrick puffed out his chest a bit.
"You know, they're playing against each other tomorrow in the boys singles championship match," Tashi mentioned, her eyes bouncing between the boys.
"Are they now?" Gianna responded, an intrigued smirk gracing her face while crossing one leg over the other.
"We are!" Art blurted out, almost too eagerly.
"You both should come and watch," Patrick suggested.
Gianna cocked her head to the side, "Hmm, maybe," she answered, having a little fun toying with them.
Tashi rose from her chair, reaching her hand out for Gianna's.
"Come on, my dad is waving me over to come take pictures," Tashi informed.
"This is a group activity?" Gianna questioned, her brows furrowing.
"No, but the demand for Gianna Langdon is ever growing," she reminded, her eyes filled with mirth.
"It sure is," Gianna agreed, taking her hand as her friend helped her to her feet. Gianna looked over to Patrick and Art. "Well, ciao. It was nice meeting y'all," Gianna said, waving goodbye as Tashi led her away.
"Goodbye?" Patrick jokingly scoffed. "We'll be here all night!" he called out after her.
~~~x~~~
True to their word, Patrick and Art were in the same spot where Gianna and Tashi had left them earlier and they were more than willing to continue hanging out with the girls. Which is how the group of four found themselves on the beach, slowly treading along the sand, the dark blue sky and millions of stars above them. Naturally, Tashi had found herself in the middle of the group with Patrick flanking on her left and Art on her right.
Gianna was next to Art and as they walked, their arms would accidentally brush against each other every now and then. Both of them exchanging shy smiles at the fleeting contact that sent butterflies fluttering in Gianna's stomach. She secretly relished the contact from Art, he radiated warmth similar to that of a dryer-warm blanket; a nice contrast to the cool sand between her toes.
"You know earlier, Tashi asked us who was fire and who was ice," Patrick spoke, looking over to Gianna. "I figured I should return the favor, between the two of you, who's sugar and who's spice?" he asked, his eyes bouncing from Tashi to her.
"Tashi, is definitely 'spice'," Gianna answered, and Tashi rolled her eyes with a smile. "She's more fiery than me and has a more aggressive play style than I do," she explained.
"Making you 'sugar', of course," Art reasoned, the two staring at one another. "You are the perfect mix of deadly grace and effortless balance on the court," he described, going in an almost dreamlike trance.
"Why, thank you Art," Gianna said, bumping her arm into his.
"If Tashi is 'spice' and your 'sugar', why does the media switch it around?" Patrick wondered.
"Preconceived notions, methinks," Gianna replied, simply shrugging her shoulders.
They wandered along until they settled on a spot to hang out at. Art and Patrick both sat in deck chairs while Tashi and Gianna perched themselves on a large rock. Conversation flowed between all them on a myriad of topics ranging from college, life in general, and of course tennis.
"So Gianna," Patrick began, a small curious and mischievous glint in his eyes. "Your doubles partner Bryce—"
"It's Max," Gianna corrected flatly, with a laugh.
He smirked, "I was in the ballpark," Patrick argued, throwing his hands up. "Anyways, you and Max, you two a thing?" he asked curiously, before taking a drag of his cigarette.
"Eww, no!" Tashi exclaimed, her nose twisting in disgust. "You think Gia has such low standards?" she asked back, clearly offended on Gianna's behalf.
"Tashi, come on, Max is not that bad of a person," Gianna stated, lifting her hand up to tell her to calm down.
"Honestly, I don't know how she does it," Tashi went on. "It's a miracle she can still walk after carrying Max through this entire tournament," she sneered.
"Look, Max is not someone who I would consider as an ideal mixed doubles partner," Gianna conceded, her gaze meeting everyone's. "He's mediocre actually," she said bluntly, making Patrick and Art both snicker. "However, Max as an individual and not as an athlete, he's a wonderful guy," she said, with a slight shrug. "Us dating has never once crossed my mind," she finished, waving her hand dismissively.
"So it sounds like you'll be in need of a new partner soon," Patrick hinted, a hunger in his stare.
"Hmm, I guess I will," Gianna agreed, letting a coy smile grow on her lips. "You know anybody?" she asked, tilting her head a little.
"I can think of two people off the top of my head," Art responded, taking a drag of his own cigarette and blowing it out slowly.
"Oh, is that so? And who just—" Gianna started.
Suddenly, Gianna's phone began noisily vibrating in her lap, putting an end to the playful between the boys and Gianna. She picked up her phone and flipped it open before exhaling heavily, it was her dad texting her.
"Shit, fun's over guys," Gianna announced, with another sigh. "My dad wants me back in my room," she explained, unfolding her legs.
"Your won a championship today, and you're father won't let you stay up late to celebrate?" Patrick asked in disbelief, leaning forward in his chair.
"Obviously, you don't know my father if you think a single championship win is going to get him to loosen his reins on his regimented schedule for me," Gianna stated, grabbing her sandals and letting them dangle from her fingers.
"You're about to be off to Stanford, it's insane your dad is giving you a curfew," Art chimed in.
"Well, I'm not at Stanford yet," Gianna pointed out. "And also..." she trailed off, turning to Tashi who had a knowing look on her face. "His roof, his rules," they both said in unison, after hearing those words countlessly over the years.
Finally standing up from the rock, the boys followed suit. Both of their gazes traveled the length of Gianna yet again, as if they needed to commit her to memory.
"I can walk you back to the ferry and to your hotel," Art offered kindly.
"We both could," Patrick volunteered.
"As much as I am flattered that both of you want to walk me back, I can manage just fine," Gianna assured. "Plus, we're all going to be playing an unwanted game of 21 questions if my dad sees two, random white boys walking me to my room," she remarked, with a chuckle.
Tashi pushed herself up onto her feet, "I'll come with you, Gia,"
"No, no stay, Tashi," Gianna encouraged. "Don't end the fun on my account," she insisted. "Another time will come about for all of us to hang out again, right?" she questioned.
A toothy grin broke out on Patrick's face, "There's gonna be another time?" he asked
"I don't see why not," she answered, mirroring his expression. "The three of us are going to be at Stanford together, and I'm sure you come visit from time to time. It all works out so well!" Gianna said excitedly.
Art opened his mouth to speak, but the shrill ringing of Gianna's phone silenced him. Looking down at the phone, she grimaced slightly.
"Shit, I really have to go, my dad is calling now," Gianna stressed.
"Then get going," Tashi prompted, playfully swatting her bottom.
A surprised whoop escaped Gianna's lips before morphing into a giggle as she began to half-walk, half-jog away from the group. She spun around to face them, continuing to walk backwards.
"This was really fun y'all, we should do this again, yeah?" she yelled.
"I look forward to it!" Art yelled back.
"Me too!" Patrick shouted.
Laughing, Gianna spun around and jogged away, all too aware of the three pair of eyes boring into her back.
~~~x~~~
Propped up against the hotel bed headboard, Gianna was tucked underneath the blankets with a well-worn copy of Baking with Julia in her hands. If tennis was her first love, then baking was her second. There was nothing more relaxing than to Gianna than being able to slow down and just allowing herself to focus on precision, without any of the heightened stakes that came with tennis. Not to mention, beating eggs or whisking a cake were great ways to rid herself of any frustration she may be feeling.
A series of rhythmic knocks on her door pulled Gianna from her musings. She didn't even have to ask who it was, she could tell by the pattern of the familiar knock.
"Just use the card I gave you, Tashi," Gianna called, her voice just loud enough for her to hear.
There's a quiet click of the door unlocking before the door opened a crack and Tashi's head popped into her room, a shit eating grin on her face.
"Hurry up and get in here, before my dad sees!" Gianna ordered, with a laugh.
Closing the door behind her, Tashi pranced over to Gianna and sat beside her on the floor on the edge of her bed.
"Tell me everything! What happened after I left?" Gianna asked, a smile of her own on her face.
"They invited me to come up to their room,"
"And you went?"
"I did," Tashi answered, a smirk on her lips.
Gianna landed a playful hit on Tashi's arm, "No fucking way!" she whispered, her eyes wide. "You hooked up with both of them?"
"I didn't sleep with them," Tashi corrected. "We only made out, and then they made out," she added, smirking proudly.
Gianna raised an eyebrow, "They made out? Patrick and Art?" she questioned.
"Yep," Tashi grinned.
"On their own or did they have some help?" Gianna asked, arching a brow.
Wordlessly, Tashi plucked Gianna's book from her hands and she straddled her, resting each leg on either side of Gianna.
"They did most of the heavy lifting, I just gave them the push they needed," Tashi explained, looping her arms around her friend's neck.
"Now, I'm a little jealous. I missed out on all the fun," Gianna complained, sticking out her lower lip in a mock pout.
"Gia babe, don't worry, I did not forget about you," Tashi reassured, as Gianna hands came to rest on Tashi's thighs. "Remember their match tomorrow?" she reminded.
"Yeah,"
"Winner gets my number…." Tashi trailed off, removing her right arm from around Gianna's neck. "And yours," she finished, lightly tapping the tip of her nose.
A slow smile spread across Gianna's lips as Tashi's words sunk in. She knew exactly what her friend was up to, especially if it meant Tashi could watch some "real fuckin' tennis".
"Tashi Duncan, the girl that you are," Gianna praised, letting out a chuckle.
Leaning forward, Gianna planted a soft kiss on Tashi's lips. It was only meant to be a quick peck, but as Gianna went to pull away, Tashi held her face, keeping their lips connected.
Tashi withdrew herself from Gianna, "Tomorrow is gonna be so fucking good," she grinned, her eyes twinkling at the thought. "And guess what is the best part about all of this, Gia?" she questioned, their forehead resting against each others.
"What?'
"We already have them wrapped our fingers, without even trying," Tashi answered, sending the girls into a fit of giggles.
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needypisces · 3 days
Text
me and the boys in the hotel lobby
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It had been surprisingly easy for Tashi to maneuver Art and Patrick into position. Not that she doubted herself, but she was starting to doubt their claim that mutual masturbation was the extent of their shared sexual history.
Their legs were slung over each other, a tangle of muscled thighs and calves that Tashi sat alongside. It was a beautiful view, Patrick’s hairy legs and Art’s smooth intertwined to the point that their pelvises slotted together. They were both so hard and so willing, and it was so easy for her to do as she intended, to gather their cocks together. She had to use both hands, would’ve had to for just Patrick anyway.
"Oh," Art breathed as Tashi pressed them together in her palms. Patrick hummed in agreement, but his breath came out short when she leaned her head over their crotches, close enough for her hot breath to hit their sensitive skin. They both watched, awestruck, waiting, hoping, for her to stick out her tongue and taste.
Their disappointment didn't last long when she simply spit into her palms, gathering the makeshift lube with the precum already flowing from both boys and twisting her wrist in a single upward stroke. Tashi wasted no time in building a rhythm that had both boys keening.
"Fuck," Patrick muttered. He'd gotten hand jobs before, obviously, but never from a girl like this, and never, even in his dreams, with his best friend's dick flush against his own. He stole a glance at Art, and couldn't hold back a whimper when he saw his friend's face. Art was watching Tashi's hand in disbelief, swollen lips parted, a sheen of sweat highlighting his cheekbones. Patrick couldn't be sure if it was this view or Tashi's sudden thumb on his frenulum that made his stomach clench. But it was definitely Art feeling his gaze and meeting his eyes that made Patrick tip his head back and moan obscenely.
"Doubles partners." Tashi said and Art would have laughed if he wasn't already so close to coming. "You do everything together, huh? Only makes sense you'd want to come together, too." She rubbed a flat palm over both of their tips as she shifted to lie on her stomach, resting her chin on Art's thigh, close enough to smell them.
"Yeah," Patrick panted. "We've been missing out on this." He met Art's eyes again, watched the red creep across his face.
"Good thing you found me." Tashi murmured.
The back and forth was almost as erotic to Art as their touch was. He was so content to just be in the middle of it all, sandwiched between their bodies and their words. He'd never felt a sense of belonging quite like this, and the realization was a little too much for him. It was all starting to be too much, in the best way; Tashi's persistent grip on his cock and her breath near his balls.
"I'm gonna come," He panted, once he realized he couldn't hold it back anymore.
"Already?" Patrick mocked. "Come on Donaldson, you can do better than that."
Art dipped his chin down, trying to control his breathing as his body shook. "Isn't it, like, a compliment? It feels so good," he said. After a moment, he added on, shyly, "you both feel so good."
Tashi grinned into his quad. "Go ahead, then." She said. "But I'm not stopping until Patrick comes, too."
The warning should've held him off - Art knew he would get overwhelmed even more quickly once he came, and that Patrick would last a while, but it was just so hot, and so filthy coming from her pretty face, that he couldn't help himself.
Art's cock twitched against Patrick's and they moaned in tandem as he came, spurting into her hand and down both of their lengths. "Good boy," Tashi murmured, biting Art's hip lightly, and in response he whimpered.
"Fuck," Patrick grunted, watching the way Tashi watched her own fist as it continued to pump their cocks. Art was already becoming overstimulated, letting out a litany of high-pitched ah, ah, ahs.
"Please," Art exhaled.
"No one's done until you're both done." Tashi reminded him, kissing Art's thigh in attempt to calm him. He bit his lip, hard, and Tashi sat back up to give him just a little space.
Patrick's grunts and Art's pleas formed a backdrop to the slick sound of Tashi's work. She could feel her panties sticking to her, she was so wet, but she was comfortable in her position for now. Tashi liked the way it felt to make the boys fall apart like this, to have them, quite literally, in the palm of her hand. She hadn't been sure of them earlier in the night, but she was intrigued by their friendship. She'd never had a best friend, not like this, but she wanted one, now. Wanted them.
"God, you look so good doing that." Patrick huffed, and Tashi bit her lip. "You like it, don't you?"
"Not as much as you do." She countered.
"Yeah." He said, reaching out a hand to squeeze her wrist. "That's probably true."
"Definitely true," Art piped in between ragged breaths. Patrick and Tashi were both strangely turned on to see tears welling in his eyes.
"You doing ok?" Patrick teased.
"Not really." Art admitted. A drop spilled free, rolled down his cheek. Tashi leaned forward to lick it off, and the simple touch of her tongue to his face broke the dam completely.
“I know, baby, it’s ok, I’m sorry,” Tashi cooed into Art’s ear, barely audible over his cries. “You just have to take it until Patrick comes, you can do it, I know you can.”
“I can’t.” He sobbed. His chest was flushed a burnt red and his thighs were quivering so intensely she thought he might pull a muscle. But she wouldn’t take pity on him. It wouldn’t be fair.
“You can.” Tashi said, a bit more sternly, but she immediately softened at Art’s wobbling lip.
“Please.” He whimpered.
Tashi tilted her head toward Patrick, who managed to wear a face of amusement despite his own gasps and moans. “Don’t beg me.” She said to Art. “Beg him. He’s the one you’re waiting for.”
Art was too desperate to resist, so he immediately redirected his pleas. “Patrick, please,” he whined. “Please, I want you to come, I need you to come, it’s too much.” Patrick couldn’t stop the grin from splitting his face; he’d never heard anything more beautiful than Art's broken voice begging for his come.
“Yeah?” Patrick asked, thrusting harder into Tashi's hand. “You want me to come all over your cock?”
“Yes,” Art gasped.
“Say it.”
Art couldn’t stand it, Patrick’s leaky tip pressed up almost painfully against his own. “I want you to come,” He said again. “All over my cock, yours, on Tashi, make a mess, I don’t care, please, just-" His voice gave out when Tashi's grasp tightened at the mention of her name.
“Come on, Patrick,” she said, heat spreading down her own body. “He’s asking so nicely, can’t you give Art what he wants?” Selfishly, she needed him to. The sooner they finished, the sooner they could attend to her dripping pussy.
"Keep talking like that and I will," Patrick promised.
"Please, please," Art babbled. "Patrick, I, fuck, please, I think I'm gonna come again. Is that possible? Can I do that?"
Patrick's laugh was breathy. Art was so cute. "Yeah," he said. "Why don't you come one more time, and that'll get me there, okay?" It wasn't just talk; if Patrick could watch Art spurt again while he cried into Tashi's shoulder, he might never stop coming.
"Just let it happen, baby." Tashi agreed, encouraging Art. "I'm not stopping yet."
It was downright pornographic: the sound Art let out was high and weepy, his cock leaking pathetically at his second orgasm. Still, Tashi held to her word. "Patrick." It was all Art could choke out, but it was enough.
"Fuck, I know, Art. Okay. Right there, Tashi, yes, yes, yes-" and Patrick came too, his own climax putting Art to shame, load after load spilling down Tashi's arm and Art's stomach.
"Jesus," Patrick said, and Art gasped in agreement when Tashi finally withdrew her sticky hand.
"Nope." She smirked. "Just me."
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nottsangel · 6 hours
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thinking about patrick fucking me in the back of his car 😵‍💫😵‍💫
warnings: smut 18+, car sex, creampie
patrick always had trouble focusing when you wear those tight clothes for special occasions, perfectly hugging your body as if it was made just for you— especially tonight, when you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car and he has a perfect view of your cleavage with the black lace of your bra slightly poking out of your dress. he just had to pull over, as he was more focused on you than the road.
and that’s how you ended up in this position with your legs on his shoulders as he aggressively slams into you on the backseat of his car, your sweaty body sticking to the leather and your nails dragging down the fabric. “fuck, you’re such a tease” patrick groans, his hand squeezing and massaging your tits as sweat trickles down his temples. “i mean, how can i not fuck you when you’re wearing clothes like that?”
you can only moan in response as the tip of his cock repeatedly brushes against your g-spot, causing you to clutch his flexed arms next to your head. the car slightly shakes and the windows begin to fog up as the pleasure keeps building, your eyes slowly fluttering shut. “you feel so fucking tight” patrick growls as he moves his hand to your core, rubbing fast circles on your sensitive clit, intensifying the pleasure even more.
“oh my god, patrick!” you scream out, causing him to smirk as he gazes down at you, closely observing your facial expressions. “yeah? that feels good, baby?” you nod eagerly with your eyes shut and your mouth agape, melting under his touch. he brings his mouth to your neck and sloppily sucks on your skin, leaving hickeys everywhere.
“wanna feel you cum around my cock, baby.” he murmurs as his thrusts increase in pace, instantly sending you over the edge, making you see stars. his orgasm hits him simultaneously as he empties himself inside of you and paints your walls white, his hands gripping the backseat with all his might while grunting your name.
“that was— that was amazing, oh my god.” you exclaim, cupping his sweaty face with your clammy hands before kissing him as he rides out both your highs. you could hear his heart thumping in his chest as it heaves up and down, breaths coming in shallow, rapid bursts. “fuck, i just can’t get enough of you. let’s go home for round two.”
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wyniepooh · 14 days
Text
Coach
patrick zweig has an interesting approach to coaching; it becomes even more interesting when it’s with you.
coach!patrick zweig x tennisplayer!reader. You desperately need a coach to help you, coach zweig seems to want something else 🤘🤘 (and you don’t mind ofc). Mentions of being broke #relatable. I imagine this to be set either before the challengers match, or after, either way works.
If it were up to you, you’d say that the place was a little sketchy.
if it were up to you, you would’ve left the moment you saw the lone beaten up car in the lot and the acrylic chipping off of the concrete ground.
But in the end, it really wasn’t up to you. The continuously decreasing numbers in your bank account was a constant taunt, a bullying reminder that if you wanted those numbers to change— to rise— you’d need a coach to push you into the championships.
Even if that coach choose a training spot that looked damn-near abandoned.
“hey. uh… patrick. patrick zweig,” he extended his arm.
You took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze as you dropped your bag onto the bench beside you. you smiled. “Shouldn’t I call you coach zweig?”
he smiled, chuckling at the ground, then shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets. “whatever you want."
he cleared his throat, “so uh… what’s your plan here? I mean- what are your goals? why do you play tennis?”
You pulled out your racket and a couple of balls, setting them on the ground before quickly throwing your hair up into a ponytail. “Why are you coaching tennis?"
His arms crossed over his chest, and your eyes flickered to his biceps for a quick second before returning to his gaze. The silence was long, but surprisingly, it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward like silence usually is. he smiled, and laughed again at your innuendo as he bent down and picked up your racket.
Grabbing the handle from his extended hand, you grinned. “That’s exactly my goal, too.”
You bounced the ball as you walked towards the court, closing your eyes for a moment to feel the sun on your skin. The sun was hot; burning, even, but the wind offered a cooling solace. His crisp voice snapped you back to reality.
“So, let’s see your serve.”
The next hour completely diminished whatever doubts you had about patrick zweig. Despite his rather tattered clothing that proved he was a low-ranking player with no sports sponsorships on his back, and despite his racket that seemed to be slightly crooked— he knew the fucking game.
And he also knew just how to provoke you.
“Is that all you’ve got?”
Hunched over the ground with your hands on your thighs and sweat dripping onto the green floor, you panted, “what?”
“You’re getting sloppy. Having stamina is crucial to the game, you know.”
You chuckled. “I can keep going. No problem.”
“Then prove it," he tossed you another ball, your slippery hand barely catching it in time, "come on, keep going."
Your next hit bounced off the net. Your next serve was out. After the ball attacked the net yet again, you threw your racket to the side, curses spilling out from under your breath.
“Thought you could keep going?”
“Give me a break," you muttered as you crouched down to stretch your legs that didn’t need stretching.
“No.”
you groaned. “come on, coach, I’m in a slump. Give me five and I’ll get back on it.”
“You don’t get to slack off in a real game. And based off of how gently you just threw your racket, you probably can’t afford to, either.”
Your body snapped up. “the fuck did you just say?”
He laughed lightly, raising his hands up by his head defensively as he walked closer towards you. You mirrored his movements, stepping closer until all that separated the two of you was the net, flowing freely with the wind.
“Look, all I'm just saying is, I don’t usually get many students signing up to experience my coaching. Not because I’m not good," he swatted his arm as he spoke, his other arm using his racket as a cane, "fuck no, but because my going rate is pretty low. the lowest, even. I’m just making an observation.”
You rolled your eyes, furrowing your brows slightly as you rested your hands on your hips. patrick had a grin about him, a stupid, annoying smirk that almost made you believe he knew something about you that even you, yourself, didn’t know.
Walking a couple steps closer to him until you felt the harsh scratch of the net against your knees, you whispered, “don’t assume anything about me.”
Your eyes subconsciously fluttered to his nose, then his lips, before coming back up to his eyes. smoothing out your brows, a layer of subtle desire spread behind your stare. you muttered, “Maybe I wanted you to coach me simply because I like you.”
His expression softened with feigned surprise. “Oh, do you now?” His face came closer to you.
you finally had an opportunity to ponder his face; his messy stubble all unkempt and long, the sweat on his forehead soaking his dark curls so perfectly on his face. or a moment, you weren't sure of where to go or what to do. In the end, he broke the stare-off with a murmur, “show me how much you like me, then.”
you didn't know if the heat spreading to your face was from the bright sun, his words, or from the blooming ache in your stomach. Either way, you stepped back with haste, grabbed another ball and prepared to serve.
A loud grunt came from you as you made your hit, and patrick reciprocated your energy, returning the ball with the same brutal force and speed.
Maybe he did poke at a sore wound. Yes, you were broke and young and desperate, but wasn’t he in the same situation? did he think you wouldn't notice the absolute state of the rented court and his shabby shoes?
But whatever it is that he did, it worked. Your feet were off the ground in an instant, and you heard the smack of the ball against the concrete before you even saw it. When you came back down, you immediately became aware of the sweat dripping down your face, your back, your legs, and the absolute relief of it all.
“There it is.”
You looked up. Patrick was smiling, widely, with that same old grin, like he was so proud that his trick had worked. as you began walking off the court, you couldn’t help but laugh, albeit dryly, at the whole situation. grabbing a towel from the bench and swinging it over your shoulder, you chimed,
“Hey, uh… coach, how much are you charging again?” you looked down at your feet, fidgeting nervously with your fingers as you mustered up all your strength to meet his eyes.
you tried to hide your shock when you finally turned your head to look at him, catching the sparkle of blue and a hint of something else in his eyes. he was standing close, really close, close enough for you to smell him and see him and practically feel him.
your eyes followed the movement of his arm as it reached towards your shoulder, his hand grasping one end of the towel and dabbing the fabric against your temple. he dropped the cloth, fingertips dancing over your cheek as he grazed a stray hair behind your ear, barely breathing a response,
“How much are you willing to give?”
-
a/n: I DO NOT PLAY TENNIS NOR DO I RLLY KNOW HOW IT WORKS. love the art appreciation but I feel like we need to step it up w the pat fics as well so I’m taking one for the team 🫡
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kisses4kaia · 3 days
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I've been looking everywhere for new challengers content so I'm GLAD you're asking
idk if you just want thoughts or like fic ideas (I have both if you want to let me know) but I'll start with the thoughts cuz I needed to talk about patrick zweig 24/7 sorry
I can't stop thinking about marking him/him marking me LET ME EXPLAIN just in every way possible, hickeys, bite/scratch marks, all kind of bruises (given very lovingly and consensualy ofc)
him being so cocky for basically branding and claiming you BUT being even more proud of the marks on his own body, wearing slightly shorter shorts on the court the next day so it's showing a little etc...
anonnnnn this is too good to be true thank u (college!patrick x college!reader)
you and patrick zweig were not exclusive.
he ran around his tennis court, campus, parties, the city, getting in bed with whichever warm body welcomed him—you never knew him to be picky—and you did similarly, just not nearly as indulgent as he.
but for being just friends who fool around from time to time, patrick was awfully careless. his hands would get greedy and leave lasting bruises on your hip-dips (love handles, as he likes to call them), and his cologne lingered due to his insistence on you wearing his clothes while he fucked you.
all of the tell-tale signs of his familiarity with your body weren’t fooling anybody, but more than anything it was the marks. he loved displaying his whereabouts on your body with his mouth, and there wasn’t much that could top hearing the stutter in your voice when somebody points out the nasty rash on your collarbone. there was not much, but there was something.
the one thing patrick zweig adored more than marking you, was your marking of him. it wasn’t even the product of the love-bites he liked the most, although he was quite fond of those, but it was the feral cloud that overtook you, the heat of the passion getting to you and throwing your caution to the wind. it was the eagerness you had to really fuck him well, the best. making him feel your need and desires and all of your experiences without words through your sex was his favorite part—one of yours, too. and if that meant hurting him (at least a little bit) for him to get the sentiment, you could do that.
and even when he claims you went a little bit overboard, patrick still shows up to practice with you, shorts a little shorter due to what only could have been an intentional scrunching, spreading his heavy legs on his seat with his crotch and inner-thigh hickies exposed.
art shook his head and laughed when he saw them, and the look on your face seeing them, too. all his brunette friend could say in response was “you wish that was you, huh?” nodding down to art’s glares’ subject.
the retort was taken in good jest, but the flush of his friend’s cheeks at the comment made patrick wonder what both you and art would look like with matching stains of skin, whether it be hickies or bruises on love handles. he smiled at the thought, and stood to play.
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leclercstars · 20 days
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game, sex, match.
tashi x art x patrick Summary: After Art and Patrick's match at the challenger, the three waste no time finishing what was started in the boys' hotel room all those years ago.
Warnings: SMUT! 18! threesome, oral sex (m. receiving), riding first challengers fic yuppp i am so excited
“Now that was some good fucking tennis,” Tashi said with a sigh as she slid into the driver’s seat of her and Art’s Range Rover. Art was still panting heavily, sweat glistening from the match he had just fought for. Tashi was already turned on just from watching her boys fight on the court, Art’s mussed up hair- that was starting to show the curls from his Stanford days- certainly wasn’t helping the throbbing sensation growing between her thighs. Art leaned over the console- planting an extremely passionate kiss, a bold move considering there were still in the parking lot at the fucking Phil’s Tire Town Challenger.
Tashi and Art’s phones buzzed at the same time.
“Hilton Inn. Room 204” read the text from Patrick.
“He made a fucking groupchat?” Tashi sighed, palming her face in horror.
“It’s been like, ten minutes for gods sake,” Art chuckled while glancing to see what Tashi’s reaction was. “Did you already put the address in on Google Maps?” Art was wide eyed- mouth agape laughing at Tashi trying to hide her eagerness
“I mean hey, we have some unfinished business from after the ADIDAS party!” Tashi and Art were laughing almost uncontrollably, garnering some strange glares from people passing by the car.
“Step on it,” Art joked as Tashi purposely pressed all the way down on the gas- jolting him forward.
“I can’t believe you’re so okay with this, Art.”
“I don’t mind sharing.”
The two arrived- wasting no time heading up in the elevator.
Patrick hastily answered the door- already wearing boxer briefs.
“Jesus Patrick, maybe a little too excited?” Art scoffed
“Okay Artie maybe it was hot in here? Ever consider that?”
As the two bickered, Tashi set herself down on the edge of the bed- slowly untying the ribbon that was holding her wrap dress together until she was sitting there in nothing but a white lace thong.
Patrick and Art- still embroiled in whatever bullshit they were discussing didn’t even notice until Tashi cleared her throat.
“Fuck.” Art groaned as the two’s eyes widened in awe. All these years later- the two still looked at her as if she was sculpted by Davinci himself.
They sidled up next to her- both with muscles bulging from the match that ended merely an hour ago. This was very different from the first time this happened- the teenage fear gone.
Patrick wasted no time grabbing Tashi’s face and thrusting his tongue into her throat- immediately asserting dominance. His hand trailed up Tashi’s body- fondling and pinching each nipple- drawing soft moans from her into his lips. Art’s head was resting on her shoulder- pleading eyes looking up at her- waiting for a drop of her attention- like sweet nectar to him.
She pulled away from Patrick- smirking at Art’s extremely visible erection through his checkered boxers. She pushed Art down on the bed- tearing his boxers off- exposing his weeping cock to earning a loud groan from Patrick- who was still fervently kissing her neck. She planted gentle kisses all the way down Art’s body- making sure to not miss a single scar or curve with her lips. Art was writhing- hand draped over his forehead with his eyes shut in pure ecstasy.
Tashi- soaking wet from Patrick’s rough hands on her nipples- slid herself easily on Art’s throbbing cock- making him whine and buck his hips.
“You’re gonna be good for me baby?” she cooed, feeling his pre-cum drip inside her just from that statement alone.
“Yes, yes Tashi fuck.” Art was turning into a complete fucking mess- and Tashi hadn’t even moved her hips yet. As she started to softly roll herself onto his abs, Patrick sidled up next to him.
Art reached for Patrick, badly wanting to feel the way he would react to his touch. His fingers grazed along his slit- the wetness coating his hands. He grabbed Patrick’s jaw- years of memories rushing through his mind as he stuck his two fingers into his own mouth- sucking and licking every single drop of Patrick’s cum off while Patrick watched, eyes glazed over with lust.
Tashi was running her hands all over Art’s torso- greedily. A jealousy beginning to burn inside her as she watched her husband drink his opponent’s pre-cum. The flame of jealousy stoked into a fire of ecstasy as Art began thumbing her throbbing clit- his attention now moved to her as he lazily stroked on Patrick.
Tashi’s head was thrown back- pleasure was completely overtaking her, moans turning into something that resembled screams. She came all around Art’s cock- seeping all over his abs as Patrick leaned over to lap it up. She gasped- shocked at how he wasted no time in wanting to taste what he hadn’t even created.
Art’s orgasm was soon to follow- as Tashi rode out hers, volts electricity shot through his tired body- as he cried out- feeling every drop of cum coat her walls.
The three laid down next to each other.
“What nothing for me?” Patrick laughed.
“Today just isn’t your day huh?” Art said, head on Patrick’s chest.
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leclercstarrs · 2 days
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college art and patrick sharing you ; mdni
there’s only one rule in your little arrangement, no telling each other about what you do behind closed doors.
that rule never stopped the two boys from claiming you in their own ways.
one night, you’re at patrick’s dorm, letting him roughly fuck you from behind, pulling at your hair and making you suck on his fingers.
“fuck, you take me so well.” he grunts, thrusting into you. “does art fuck you this good? hm?”
you open your mouth to say something, but the only thing that follows is drool pooling around the man’s fingers.
“answer, baby.” he removes his fingers from your mouth and tightens his grip around your hair, yanking your head back to look at him.
“patrick.” you start, your sentence getting cut off with a loud moan as he hits the sweet spot of your cunt. “fuck! i thought you and art had a deal, the two of you don’t talk about me and i don’t talk about the other one when i’m with one of you.” you pant.
“fuck the rules.” he huffs, picking up the pace of his movements, fucking into you at a faster rate.
a few days later and art is at your dorm, his head between your legs as he licks your clit, coaxing out pornographic moans from your mouth. you toss your head back and your legs start to shake, “art, i’m so close!”
your words only motivate him to flick his tongue faster, your pussy clenching with a knot building in your stomach.
“oh, fuck, i’m cumming.” your eyes flutter shut and you cum all over his tongue, words of praise escaping your lips as art helps you through your orgasm.
“you did so good.” art pulls away from your core and instead starts kissing the soft skin of your thighs, making sure he leaves behind marks for the next time you’re with patrick.
from then on, each night you spend with the two boys turns into a silent competition between the two, of who can fuck you better.
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