☾ merry 𖤓

NOW PLAYING... "do the act like you never met me" — tv girl ☆

the hidden kisses, the clumsy conspiratory glance ⤷ but i don't really mind it though, i always liked the way you danced

꒰ঌ— witty ⊹ works herself to the bone ⊹ cynical ⊹ watchful eyes ⊹ reserved ⊹ nude lip liner ⊹ stubborn ⊹ walkman constantly plugged in ⊹ enigmatic ⊹ loves the classics ⊹ intuitive ⊹ her cat comes first ⊹ compassionate ⊹ spends her evenings wrapped in books ⊹ considerate ⊹ cramming notes in the margins ⊹ sensitive ⊹ gold jewellry —໒꒱ 

english lit!reader... who's always had to work for what she wanted. as a child, she was frequently overlooked by her parents, who insisted that she have bigger dreams than mere books. even in high school, she slowly fell out with the "popular" crowd after they decided to ice her out for having interests outside of getting hammered every saturday night. all of her experiences have led to her being more guarded when it comes to getting close with others, and her stubborn attitude does her no favours.

english lit!reader... who always had a passion for literature. in class, she'd be the one to stay back to discuss the reading with her teacher or gently put her two cents in on a class debate. she'd always hear others out— like any good critical thinker would, and genuinely enjoys in learning something from another person's perspective. some people find it annoying or that she's trying too hard, but she's learnt how to make those words roll off of her like water. these comments only prompted her to withdraw further from her peers, and she chose to bury herself in different media to drown out their noise.

english lit!reader... who you'll never see without a book in hand or headphones in her ears. her books are always worn and well loved, often highlighted in various colours with smudged notes in the margins. books have yet to fail her, something static that she can turn to time and time again and potentially discover something new. like how you notice different details in a painting the fourth time around. the same goes for music, her vinyls stacked in neat, careful piles around her room. her taste is a bit bipolar, going from listening to sade to nirvana to björk in a fifteen minute window.

english lit!reader... who cried at the possibility of having to leave her cat, pepper, home when she goes off to college. her parents mistook it as her crying for them, and they attempt to soothe her by coaxing her to look at some sororities, maybe she'd find some friends that way. not that she had anything against sorority girls, but the idea of having to compete for a place that she didn't particularly want to be in wasn't appealing, to say the least.

english lit!reader... who then cried with joy after finding out that her dorm building did allow pets. from that day on, she wasted no time in sorting what she wanted to bring with her. she firmly chooses to not join a sorority, getting a roommate already makes her queasy as it is. the worst thing she could imagine is getting off on a bad foot with her roomate, she's heard the horror stories.

english lit!reader... who gets a roommate that doesn't hang around much, so it almost feels like she lives alone, besides pepper, of course. she stays quite reserved until she meets a nice girl in her contemporary literature class, tashi. tashi's everything that she isn't: assertive, outgoing, and knows how to party. they are truly the most opposites attract kind of friendship, and that makes them all the more closer. though she is apprehensive, tashi brings out a much wittier version of herself, one that can let loose every once in a while.

english lit!reader... who first meets art on stanford's anonymous student messaging forum, under the alias saintpepper. she'd claim it's a stupid idea, but there's a part of her that craves connection with others, even if she has spent so long shutting it out. so when she starts talking to one boy under the name of guitarhero that talks to her about music, she's ashamed to admit how curious it all makes her. give it a week or two, and they're sharing songs to add to each other's mixtapes and dropping off cds in communal areas for each other.

english lit!reader... who only shows up to the frat party because tashi begged her to, and because she needs a distraction. over the course of the night, she gets much more wasted than originally planned, her hair being held back gently by hands that are too calloused to be tashi's as she throws up in a bush outside. it's safe to say she doesn't remember much, only waking up in a bed of one of the guys in that very same frat house the next day.

english lit!reader... who falls hard for art before ever connecting the dots between him and guitarhero. she starts coming to some of his gigs, putting much more effort into her appearance than she normally would. it surprises her how soft spoken art is when he isn't around his energetic friends, and how he is also interested in music and its production, not just the guitar itself. art often comes over to walk her to class sometimes, claiming to just be "in the area", when his frat is on the other side of campus.

english lit!reader... who, once she finds out who art is, is flooded with worry. the next time she runs into art, she begs him to keep this a secret from the other students. after all, she doesn't want to be judged by her peers for going someone "outside their field". whilst he accepts, their relationship feels anything but secret, art's hand on the small of her back during parties. even pepper approves of him, curling into his chest some nights when he sneaks in through her window. it eats her up inside, having to hold him at an arm's distance, but the nagging voice in her head argues that he might just play with her feelings like everyone tells her. since she never felt she could properly articulate matters of the heart, she wrote him a letter, stained with a lip gloss kiss and a tear or two. she's now learning to love louder for him, to make sure he knows that he's appreciated, and that she couldn't be more thankful.

in her headphones... london belongs to me — saint etienne ☆

꒰ঌ— impatient ⊹ vinyls piled on the floor ⊹ reckless ⊹ life of the party ⊹ independent ⊹ just cruising by ⊹ charismatic ⊹ lead guitarist ⊹ loyal ⊹ beer pong fanatic ⊹ ambitious ⊹ scuffs on his jeans ⊹ clever ⊹ backwards caps ⊹ practical ⊹ holds eye contact —໒꒱ 

frat boy!art... who grew out of the shy kid he once was, but never grew out of his manners. what can he say, his nana raised him to be a gentleman. though he has now ditched the cross necklaces for guitar picks on silver chains, a part of her is always with him wherever he goes. when he first moved in to the stanford dorms, he would call his nana every night, talking about anything and everything with her, though he would always be excused from the room when doing so.

frat boy!art... who has long since ditched the glasses for contacts and flipped his caps backwards. he got one compliment on how his baggy blue jeans fit, and so he practically wears them like a second skin. wired headphones, loose jeans, and his red caps are his holy trinity, almost never being spotted without one of them on at all times. unfortunately, he's acutely aware of how attractive he is, his ego getting a boost after he takes a girl up to his room after a frat party.

frat boy!art... who still plays tennis with some of his frat brothers, though none of them besides patrick take it as seriously as he'd like to. him and patrick often take to the courts once dawn is breaking over the horizon, when the night chill is still clinging on against the rising sun. but his frat brothers would rather go skating, which art also picks up, though the scuffs on his jeans prove he's still learning the ropes. after a while, he learns to highlight different parts of his personality depending on who he's around, often becoming a mirror to other people's strongest traits.

frat boy!art... who is the kind of guy who gets wasted every weekend. him and patrick picked the most social frat that they could find for this very purpose. he's almost never seen without a solo cup in hand, much less an empty one, always making sure everyone's drinks are topped up and they're having fun. after one drunk night in another frat, a guitar was thrust into his hands after someone heard he had some experience. from that, his band formed, consisting of him, patrick, and two of their other friends.

frat boy!art... who actually enjoys the music production aspect more than he cares to admit. when him and patrick first started the band as a joke, they would barely practice and only use it as an excuse to get girls to come over. despite this, art acquired a genuine interest in music and its production, offering to sing when no one else wanted to. and even if he'd never admit it, he loves to write the lyrics he sings, the main way in which he processes his emotions. maybe he's not exactly destined for broadway, but you wouldn't expect someone in a college frat band to be, now would you?

frat boy!art... who signs up to stanford's messaging platform as a joke, not thinking much of it until he finds one girl, saintpepper. it intrigued him, not having to rely on a physical connection with a girl, not having to pretend to fit into the effortlessly cool persona. the anonymity is refreshing, a place where he can speak his mind without the worry of what people around him have to say. though he'd be lying if he said that wanted to put a face to the girl he'd been talking to for weeks.

frat boy!art... who definitely takes notice of the one girl he's never seen before at these parties. he heard she came with tashi, a girl he knows from the neighbouring sorority, but it's safe to say that his curiosity is piqued. the night blurs together like it always does, hazy and blissful, except this time with a different ending. how he ended up holding mystery girl's hair back as she threw up was beyond him, but he at least had his wits about him enough to get her settled in his bed whilst he took the couch.

frat boy!art... who starts seeing this girl everywhere now, like the universe takes great pleasure in his confusion. he finds himself being pulled in one direction by her and another by saintpepper, the guilt brewing in him as he slowly finds out more and more about her. even his frat brothers start asking what's wrong with him, that they've never seen him like this, much less over a girl. so when he finds out that saintpepper is the same girl he's been getting coffee for every day, he should feel relieved that they're the same person, right?

frat boy!art... who takes a massive blow to the ego when english lit!reader begs him to keep this a secret, wondering what is so bad about him that she feels the need to hide him away from others. but he can't remember the last time he wanted to hang onto a person this badly since him and patrick had a spat in the ninth grade. so of course, he feigned nonchalance, trying not to take it personally that she wanted to hide him from her friends. and even though it pains him to do so, he keeps walking english lit!reader to class and coming over to her dorm, even if he is mildly allergic to cats, because he cannot stand the thought of not having her in his life.

frat boy!art... who even after they know who the other are, likes to message english lit!reader on stanford's messaging platform. it feels almost nostalgic, reminisce of a time before it got too tangled and messy. to when they were just two names on a screen, though she was never simply a name to him. but after a few weeks, a letter appears on his doorstep, and he's never felt more seen by another person as he does with english lit!reader. in turn, he burns a cd of all the songs that he sees her in, and this time can actually give it to her face to face. for someone who has been loud all of his life, it surprises him how well he is able to love quietly; no need for bragging, no need for fuss. safe to say he's never been happier.

in his headphones... sappy — nirvana ☆

a/n; lowkey not proof read so i'm sorry if there's any mistakes, i loveeee frat boy!art and his potential with a more reserved!reader. anyways enjoy lovelies mwah 💞

taglist; @iamaya03 @faistbaby @sudek4l @challengers4ev click here to be added!

ִ ࣪ ⋆ 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 every day of the week.

( +18 ) mdni / smut headcanons. afab!reader. inspired from the song seven by junkook ft. latto ; how peter would fuck you throughout the week. established relationship. praise. power exchange. multiple orgasms. oral sex (both receiving). deep-throating. body worship. light hair pulling. multiple positions throughout the week. neck kissing. petnames. overstimulation. wrist restraint (with webs). creampie.

reblog is a creator's best-friend, thank you!!

MONDAY ִ ࣪ ⋆ ٫٫ Peter has you laying on your stomach, ass up in the air while his strong hands are holding your position, not letting you move one inch. His cock is buried deep inside your leaking pussy, balls slapping against your clit which is already sensitive from multiple orgasms. His stamina will always surprise you, especially when it comes to fucking you right. Moans are echoing in the room, bringing embarrassment to you, due to how much noise you are making. Peter groans loudly, praising you quietly for how good you are taking him. It lasts for hours, forming sweat on your skin, muscles aching afterwards.

TUESDAY ִ ࣪ ⋆ ٫٫ One of his hands is in your hair, fingers curling to the back of your head as you take more of his fat cock inside your mouth; deep-throating him. Peter hissed at the feeling, “Ah—Ah, yes, just like that, baby…” His eyes are half-lidded as he watches you, your nose pressed against his base for a second as you gag and pull away. Thick threads of saliva are connecting his mushroom tip to your lips. A smile breaks on your face and Peter blushes. “You're so pretty like that, taking all of me.” You don't reply, just take his shaft back inside your mouth, curling your tongue around his girth.

WEDNESDAY ִ ࣪ ⋆ ٫٫ Peter's strong hands are buried into the fat of your thighs as he keeps you against the wall, nails scratching at your skin each time he lowers you onto his fat cock, your pussy hungrily squeezing him. Your juices are mixing, creating squelching noises that echoes in the room, soon followed by moans. Your hands are running through his hair, pulling on it so hard that Peter curses. “So good! You're so good, baby. S—Shit!” His forehead presses against your shoulder as his bulbous head rubs against your g-spot, making you wetter than you were before.

ִ ࣪ ⋆ 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 licking wounds.

( +18 ) mdni / smut short fic. gn!reader & sub!peter. inspired by this ask. established relationship. post-fight intimacy. gentle teasing. praise. petname (babe, love, baby). body worship. wound licking / slight blood play (licking it). handjob. balls play. light overstimulation. spitting. swallowing body fluids (semen). aftercare cuddling.

reblog is a creator's best-friend, thank you!!

“Wait—I don’t think that’s really hygienic, babe.” Peter hissed as he felt the rough pad of your tongue against his bleeding wound, you licked the blood like a kitten cleaning its fur.

“Peter, you are literally Spider-Man, I think we can forget about what’s unhygienic for a second. Now, can you let me be a freak in peace?” The words left your mouth and before your boyfriend could argue with that, you licked a stripe from his waist to his abs, tongue cleaning the remaining blood from a cut he had gotten during a fight earlier. Your knees were hurting from the hard floor but the moment was too important to care for details.

Peter winced at the feeling, body arching but toward you instead of away; like he couldn’t get enough of the pain mixing with pleasure. One of his hands moved from the armrest to the back of your nape, rough fingers caressing the baby hair that rested there as if he silently asked for more attention from you.

Your eyes lifted up to his face just to see his eyebrows furrowed, lips half-open like he was about to say something.

pairing: cult leader!art x fem!reader

note: tried to post this yesterday but it got flagged :/ anon i hope you’re out there and see this! thank your for the request!

3.1k

Art Donaldson’s face printed in black and white covered almost every bulletin board at your college. Always advertising the same thing.

Feeling lost and alone? Need a space to talk? Meet from circle time in Central Park at 4.

Your move to California had left you feeling lonely. Your family and what little friends you left behind were miles away, but to vent about that to a bunch of strangers in a park didn’t appeal to you.

Still the flayers continued to tempt your attention.

Art noticed you in an instant. It was a new college he was visiting that day, a college he felt The Divine had pulled him to and he could see why.

Art had a talent for picking out the vulnerability in others. Some were strong, easy for him to grab onto, others more guarded. In you it seemed to shine like a beacon calling to him. Art couldn’t resist walking over to you.

“Hello, I’m-”

“No thanks, not interested.” The response was automatic. You were used to these people approaching you, and anyone else they could find to shove their flayers in your face, that just the sight of white linen pants and brown shoes was enough to turn you off.

A big hand caught your shoulder in a light hold turning you around, smooth laughter filtering through your ears. “You didn’t even hear what I had to say.”

That face, that chiseled jaw, that prominent nose, it was something you’ve seen before.

“You're from the flayers.” You blurted, earning another sweet laugh from the man.

“I am,” He held out his hand. “Art Donaldson.”

Your light grip was nearly crushed under the weight of Art’s firm shake. “Do you see them a lot?”

“Sometimes, around campus, they’re kind of hard to ignore.” You never considered yourself particularly funny but this was now the third time Art had laughed at something you said.

“You should join us sometime. In the park.”

Your lips curled inward. “I don’t know…that’s not really my thing.”

Art hummed a sad tone, and you couldn’t help but feel bad for causing the disappointed look that went across his face.

“I understand. It can be pretty daunting exposing your raw feelings to a bunch of strangers.” Letting a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you felt relief wash over that Art wasn’t upset, he understood.

“Though it can be nice to have friends around,” he smiled. Voices in the back called out to Art forcing your words to the back of your mind. Pulling a pencil from his pocket, “I hate to go so soon.” He wrote on the back of the flayer in his hand. “My number. Use it. Don’t use it. It’s up to you. Although I'd really like it if you'd use it.” The tips of Art’s fingers brushed yours when he shoved the paper into your hand.

You watched him go, clutching the paper in your hand. Your gaze jumped from the paper to Art.

In the cluster of hippies dressed all the same Art stood out. There seemed to be a glow around him as he interacted with those in his group. They hung on his every word, and you didn’t realize you were still watching him until Art and his group disappeared around the corner.

You continue your day with Art’s presence in the back of your mind and the paper with his number on it burning a hole into your bag.

You didn’t call, not right away, you let yourself get swept up in your school work, but after a phone call with your family from back home a strong sense of loneliness settled in your heart, and you found yourself reaching for the paper with the number written in now dried ink.

“Hello?”

You held your breath when Art’s voice came through the phone into your ears.

“Hi,” You spoke low, “It’s me from that day on campus. You gave me your number and said to call.”

There was a beat and then , “Oh, right, of course how could I forget you. I was hoping for your call.”

“Sorry it took so long I was busy, but I was wondering if you maybe wanted to meet?”

Art let the suspense build, he let your breathing get a little faster, before enthusiastically agreeing. “I would love to. There’s a cafe near your school. We could meet there tomorrow at three.”

“Yes,ok, I’ll see you then.” It was hard to hide the excitement in your voice.

You both hung up with a smile for differing reasons. You, because since moving to LA Art has been the first person you felt a pull to get to know. You’d only met once, but you couldn’t get him out of your mind.

Art, because of how easy you were. It was rare he invested personal time into new possible recruits, but you were a special case.

-

The cafe was small, something new that opened up to attract the college students that went to school nearby. Art was already seated at one of the outside tables when you arrived.

“I ordered for you. I hope that’s ok.”

It was a simple black coffee that you added three sugars to.

“Thank’s for coming, I know you’re probably busy.”

“Never, never too busy for you.”

You took a sip of your coffee to distract yourself from the butterflies that awoke in your stomach.

Surveying your ridge body language, and the way you fiddled with the handle of your mug, Art leaned forward, speaking softly.

“You know, I’m very glad you called,” he placed a warm hand over your fidgeting hand, “Ever since I saw you I could not stop thinking about you. Like it was the Divine's will for us to meet.”

“Divine’s will? Like God?” Your brows knitted and Art laughed—he seemed to do that a lot—shaking his head.

“No, no, not God,” He held both your hands in his. You’ve never been good at holding eye contact, but for Art it seemed as natural as breathing and you found yourself lost in the soft blue as he preached to you.

“The Divine is bigger than God. It’s human nature in its rawest form. It’s freedom. Only the strong and chosen can reach it.”

Silence hung between the two of you, and Art knew he gave too much too soon. The small hometown religion you thought was buried is still prevalent within you, pulling you away from his blasphemous words.

“And it shines within you. So bright.” Art’s quick to add, gaining your attention back. “I can help let it free if you’d have me.”

Art's words unsettled you at first, but then he made you believe you were something more, that something in you was destined for more. You were one of the chosen ones.

You’ve never been the religious type and Art liked to remind you this wasn’t religious, it was spiritual. The more time you spent with him the less you did at school.

“Why do you even go?” Art had asked you.

“I wanna be a teacher like my mother.” You responded and Art laughed.

“When are you going to stop being what others want you to be?”

You ended up dropping out.

The more consumed with Art your life became the more disconnected you were from old friends and family. The family members you used to call every week now rarely heard from you, if ever. You didn’t need them, Art said, the only family that truly matters was the one formed through The Divine. Besides you were always a bit of a black sheep, or so Art said so much that it became a thought you thought you formed yourself. Art seemed to know better than yourself, filling in the gaps in your head he deemed tainted by society.

“I would like to invite you to my home for the week.” Art sprung on you one day three months into meeting you. You two were out in the park walking along the river side. You’ve given up so much at Art’s will, and he was ready to start integrating you.

“I would love to.”

-

Art’s home sat far up in the hills of California, a huge golden gate hiding a large mansion and acres and acres of land behind it. On your ride up the long driveway you could see people in the distance remembering Art mentions he lived with others.

“It felt selfish to have such a large place and not share it with anyone.” He said when you first stepped into the home, watching as your eyes widened as you took in all the people. “There’s about twenty of us.”

You were given a tour of every inch of the house before Art dropped you off at the room you’d be staying in. Two other girls were there, but you didn’t feel uncomfortable or anxious you felt….at home.

Dinner was loud and lively, Art giving a welcome speech to acknowledge your presence. Breads, meats, and salads were passed around before everyone retired for the night.

The week passed in blur. All the clothes you packed never seemed to make it to your room, so you borrowed the flowy white dresses of your roommates.

Today marked your last day of stay here, and Art decided to take you on a walk around the property.

“Can’t believe the week is already over. It went by so fast.” There was a sad undertone to his words that was not lost on you.

“I know, I wish I could stay longer.” It was said absentmindedly, but Art perked up at your statement. No one could deny how well you fit here, how easily you took chores and group activities. Art always knew you were meant to be here and now you wanted to stay.

“I wish that as well.” He smiled.

The walk continued with light conversation, your bushing together every so often, until you made it towards the garden and steps slowed.

The garden itself was beautiful, huge and well divided, everything had its place. It was just people in it that caused you to freeze. Bare bodies of many shades and sizes worked in tandem and your jaw couldn’t help but drop open at the sight of unbashful nudity.

“Why, uh, why are they naked?”

Art took hold of your hand pulling you closer to the garden before speaking. “Plants are one of Divine’s sacred gifts. They are always in their most natural state that when working with them it only makes sense we give them the same courtesy, hm? Standing exposed under Divine’s day eye.” He gestured towards the sun. “To work in the garden is a very high privilege. To sink your bare feet in Divine’s skin.”

Like most things Art said you nodded along to it. Art was so smart and a little older than you. He knew things, and taught you so much that you questioned very little of what he said.

“You know,” Art turned your attention to be completely on him. “Before you go tomorrow I would like to show you something tonight, something special.” He said, and you found yourself with a nervous pit in your stomach later that night.

The house was dead quiet as you and Art walked through its halls, a door waiting for you at the end.

“We here are a family bound together by love, and sometimes that love is so overflowing it manifests into something…beautiful.”

Bodies, naked bodies moving together in what felt like slow-mo is what sat behind the door. It was pornographic in a way that had you wanted more instead of frowning away. Your eyes danced around the room, men and women, women and women, men and men. Touching, kissing, fucking. You jumped when Art put his hands on your waist pressing himself against your back.

“It’s beautiful, isn't it?” He asked and you nodded. “You could be a part of this if you stayed with us. With me.”

You turned in his grip. “I want that.” You heard yourself whisper watching a smile stretch over Art’s face. His hands slid from your waist to your hands, pulling you back down the hall turning a few corners until you were in front of another bedroom door. Art’s bedroom. The smell of incense and him were strong.

“Call me selfish, but I wish to have you first alone.” He backed you towards his king sized bed until the back of your thighs hit the bed. “You have no idea how long I've wanted you.”

“How?” You sighed, Art’s lips hitting your neck slowly but not teasing.

“Since that day on campus,” he said, words muffled on your skin. “Knew I had to have you, The Divine would have it no other way.” He raised his head and lifted your chin to look him in the eye. “We were made for each other.” Art sealed his statement with a kiss. Your mouth opened for his tongue to slide in. The soft sound you made gets swallowed by Art, and he presses against you desperate to hear it again.

Art moved with experience you didn’t have—your first attempt at sex having been your last—his hands sliding under your brown shirt, cold palms causing you to gasp and arch into his touch. While one hand ascends towards your breast the other descends. Moving down, down, down until his palm covered your clothed pussy. Pressing.

“Art!” Your breath catches in your throat. Your hand around his wrist does little to stop his fingers rubbing you through your layers of pants and underwear. You call out his name again—softer. Legs spreading as Art fingers dip into your waistband meeting the mess in your panties.

“You’re so wet, I could just,” his middle finger circled your clit before sinking into your wet heat. Your head fell back with a moan, as his finger pumped slowly.

“So tight around my finger, can’t wait to feel you on my cock.” He snuck in a second finger, sliding in and out and curling up. The heat of pleasure in your belly distracts you from the stretch, leaving you only to focus on Art's lips on your neck and his fingers reaching places you’ve only dreamt of.

“Gonna come.” You muttered, rolling your hips to meet his thrust. The palm of Art’s hand brushing against your clit. You chased after your release panting profanities as your walls grew slicker—tighter and you could feel it ready to rush through your body until Art drew his hand away.

“Why!” Your eyes shot open with a whine. “Why’d you stop?”

Art smiled at the pout on your face, pulling away just enough to start removing your clothes until you were bare in front of him, nipples pebbling. “Want to see you fully.” Art’s eyes racked up and down your body taking in the soft curves and marks. The urge to cover yourself up was strong, but you decided against it.

“Can I…see you?”

Art smiled, “Of course.” He stripped slowly, shirt coming off revealing a huge branding mark on his chest. Two circles inside a sun scarred into the skin over his heart. It was beautiful. Soon his pants dropped and he was as naked as you, cock heavy between his legs.

You etched back as Art moved closer, climbing onto the bed until he was situated over you.

“We will become one,” with a hand on the back of your knee Art nudged your legs up and apart, bulbous tip teasing at your dripping entrance. “After tonight you’ll be a true member of this family, a true child of The Divine.” He pushed in, feeding every inch of his cock into your tight wet hole. You fisted the sheets in your hands, eyes closing, mouth opening in a silent moan, lungs tightening.

“Art,” He bottomed out—pausing—letting your walls stretch and expand around his length.“Too big.” You gasped.

“It’s not, look how well you're taking me. Pretty pussy was made for this.” He reassured you, pulling out. “You were made for this.” He thrust forward, and stars clouded your vision. Moans filter out of you with every thrust.

Art was everywhere, you could feel him everywhere, his breath hitting your ear as he panted low groans, his fingers digging into the fat of your thighs, his hips meeting yours with every mean, deep thrust forward.

“Fuck—so good, perfect fucking pussy sucking me up.” One of Art’s hands left your thigh finding your neck in firm grip. “Look at me while I fuck you. You love it don’t you?” He knew the answer but he wanted you to say it with your own voice.

“L-Love it.” Your words tangled up in whimpery moans, eyes locking with his. “Love it so much—fuck!—“ Your back arched when Art’s cock head hit that sensitive spot inside you. Nails latching onto the man’s biceps.

He fucked you hard and fast, reducing you to nothing more than obnoxiously loud cries and babbles of his name. You could feel that wave raising again sitting at the edge waiting.

“Oh shit, Art! Close, m’close. Wanna come, please.” You held eye contact with him, tears gathered in your waterline.

“Wanna come?” Art stopped his movements with noisy protest from you to sit back on his heel pulling your ass off the bed to rest on his thighs, hands secure around your waist. “Let’s come together. You and me.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before Art was fucking back into you, his pace relentless. You shook from the force of his thrust, fingers holding tightly onto the sheets below you. As you edged closer your moans got louder mixing with Art’s making music in the air.

It was Art taking your hand and placing over his scarred heart, marks bumpy under your palm, and the longing look in his eyes when he asked you, “Will you let me put my mark on you?” that pushed your wave over the edge.

Your body tensed and your eyes squeezed shut with crying ‘yes’ as your orgasm rang through you. Art dragged it out by placing slow circles on your clit, soon reaching his own peak with a low cry. White hot cum filling your worn out cunt.

It was obscene the sight that came after he slipped his softened cock free. Art watches with awe the mixing of both your releases oozing out of you, before crawling to lie next to you wrapping his arms around you.

“You will stay here. You’ll never need anyone else. Just me.” His words lured you to sleep, memories of friends and family now forgotten and replaced with Art.

YOU KNOW I CAN BE (JUST WHAT YOU WANT): loser!art x mean girl!reader. 1.9k. sfw. fem!reader.

summer’s rapidly approaching, which means that art's losing school as his main cover to interact with you without public scrutiny. however, with you dodging his texts and patrick on his case, art’s not so sure you two will make it the entire break without someone finding out you’re dating. while he’s not concerned about people knowing, proving that to you, of all people, seems to be his biggest challenge yet.

➺ comment 🎾 for challengers

➺ comment 📧 for dear evan hansen

➺ comment 🏎️ for f1: the movie

➺ comment 🪄 for now you see me

➺ comment 🕸 for spiderman

➺ comment 🍦 for stranger things

➺ comment 🦸‍♂️ for superman

➺ comment 🩺 for the pitt

“you should be more careful.” the words are leaving your mouth before peter can even think of saying anything.

a pout is on his face, making him more baby-like than he is now, reminding you of the face he had while growing up as your friend. his eyes looks down to the non-threatening cut on his forearm; one he accidentally gotten why tripping over himself. the thing is, peter could have easily gotten out of this situation… if only you knew he was spider-man. this is a conversation for another day! peter hums before deciding to reply. “i was… distracted for a second.” you look up when he says those words.

“distracted? by what?” the tone of your voice is quiet, gentle; the perfect combination to make peter’s heart skip a beat inside his chest and for a pink hue to cover his cheeks. “i don’t know… i just—i thought you looked really pretty today. i mean, you look pretty everyday! but today…” he stutter, eating his words before coughing quietly. he compliments you all the time but he still acts like you both haven’t been partners for months now. he’s sweet.

“oh! well… i thought you looked really handsome today, peter.” you reply, looking elsewhere for a second, a smile on your face and warmth inside your stomach. it’s hard to not feel giddy when your boyfriend says things like that.

“i’ll be more careful now, i swear.” he voice again, a bit amused and eyes looking down at his injury and back at your face. you hum, moving one of your hands to brush brown locks away from his forehead. peter can only lean his head toward your fingers at the touch, searching for the warmth of your body. “it’s okay if you don’t… but only if it means you’re looking at me.” the words leaves your mouth with slight teasing.

peter rolls his eyes before both his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you to his body. “well, i’ll try to look at you and be careful, how about that?” you nod your head at his words, agreeing with him. another smile appears on your face, hands running through his hair now. “that’s a deal, clumsy boy.”

spider-man might be a clumsy boy when it comes to his partner.

taglist ﹏ @userhotd @sunlightkent @222col @irysque @clementinestars @ravensreadingrecs @nomajdetective @prismozo @lvve-talks @kathh01 @jclolz22 @dumbbandpoetic @hisfavoriteweepingangel @i-cant-stfu @bluestrd @coochiemama3000 @eepwtf @peachyparkerr @jiminie-08 @stqrfirez @i-t0ld-ya @cxlt-lamb1 @kill3ill @dolcefloral @heldbycas @amourflores @chronic-fangirl-222 @nerdypinupcrystal @filthgf @antlerlove @aconstructofamind @flwer555 @voidsuites @qardasngan @aerangi @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @agustd202204 @archxve @rafs127 @cup1dssorrow @mimisitaugu @cloudsincalifornia @priyesstuff @beaufire @s4yuriii @lover-of-books-and-tea @puppyinlace @m4rk-ofcain @beausling ( to be added )

Pt 2. | 1

𑣲. Pairing: Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader X Abbot!Art Donaldson

𑣲. Summary: Escaping the stress of the upcoming tennis fall season and grueling practice, Art travels to Pittsburgh to clear his head and spend some time with his dad. In some turn of events he meets you, the PTMCS night shift first year resident. Who also happens to be Attending physician Jack Abbots favorite. Not that he will ever admit he has any favorites. Will the young talented tennis player prevail or will the older hardened doctor be the one to get the first point at your heart?

𑣲. Word Count: 4.4K

𑣲. Warnings/content: MDNI 18+ ( bad explanation of tennis, reader is described to have hair long enough to put up, mentions of jacks late wife, smut lol, unprotected p in v, (wrap it before you tap it), not proof read.)

𑣲. A/n: This is my first ever attempt at writing spicy shit so like actually bear with me this time AHHH. Also, I apologize if Art is out of character.

After Tashi found out that one, Art was in Pittsburg and two, that he had sprained his ankle, she was basically giving him the silent treatment. 

A week at his dads house turned into three and eventually had turned into a month. The days were hot and the nights were humid. He had settled back into his old room, nearly forgetting he would eventually have to fly back to California. His ankle had healed and he was in good condition, passed off by his dad, to go back to practicing. 

Over this span of time, you had gotten to know Art. You noticed him coming back to the Pitt for different reasons. A follow up on his injury, a small thank you card for helping him, bringing his dads thermos, or just to speak in the small moments of calm. In between these visits you spoke about different things like how you were the first in your family to go to university, first to go into the medical field, and the oldest in your family. 

You also had found out why Art had traveled all the way to Pittsburg. Tashi had been on his ass about his shitty practices. He wasn't excited to play in the upcoming tournaments. It was starting to get suffocating and he just had to clear his head. He also made sure to clarify that he and Tashi were not a thing.

Shen and Mateo were the first few to tease you about the golden haired boy. “Looks like you still got it after all this time” Shen smirked, as if he hadn’t been the oldest of you three. There were few people who knew about your shitty dating life and they were two of them. You confided in them and spoke about how much of a fail your dates had been. 

With a job at the ER, it made it hard to develop a social life outside of your co-workers. Much less a love life. 

Maybe that was why you had developed a little thing for the pro tennis player in a short amount of time. Was it a little embarrassing? Yes. But, for Christ sake. Look at the man! He was built amazingly, when you spoke he listened. He’d ask a question if he had them or make comments if his dad had ever mentioned stuff related to the topic. He was like an endearing puppy.

So when he asked if you wanted to play a little game of tennis and you agreed? 

You couldn't have been happier. 

The courts had been baking in the Pittsburgh sun. A few people played on different courts and the sun now sinking behind the horizon and a beautiful mix of blue, orange, and pink began to paint the sky as night fell.

It was your day off and Art assured you he was going to make sure you didn’t regret spending your time with him. 

He was warming up when you arrived. His arms flexed beneath his fitted Stanford shirt. His shorts hugged his thick thighs. 

You walked up to him, clearly nervous but a smile remained on your face. Your spandex shorts hugged your hips and ass nicely, your smooth legs on display. Your simple tank top hugged your curves outlining your chest just right that it made Art's throat go dry. Your hair was styled out of your face. 

This was the body that had been hidden under your scrubs? Art wondered what it looked like beneath the clothes.

You gave him a small wave “Hey.” You halted in front of him “I hope I’m in the right attire” you gestured to yourself. 

Art didn’t waste time to let his eyes rake over you. 

“I go out for runs but that’s about it” you chuckled awkwardly 

“You’re good” he waved off “I don’t have my best clothes either” Art replied “have you stretched yet?” He asked “can’t have you get hurt either”

“Uh, yeah, I did. Figured I would have to do that.”

“That’s good,” he nodded. “I found two rackets in my dads garage” He walked to his bag and pulled out two rackets, one more childlike than the other. He handed you the one smaller one, watching how your soft hands wrapped around the base. His ears heated up.

“Wow, Jack kept these?” You looked up at him 

“I know, good luck for the both of us” Art chuckled. “So, do you know the basics?”

“Uh” You pushed a strand of hair behind your ear “I mean I know you have to hit the ball back and forth” you laughed nervously. You hadn't known an ounce of tennis or many sports for that matter. 

“Okay, I have some work to do” Art shook his head with the grin 

“In my defense, I spent half my time in college in classrooms and the other in my dorm,” you replied. You had barely any time to go out and have fun with friends. And you had spent your time as an undergraduate in hospitals. 

Art began to explain the rules. First, a coin toss, whoever won chose whether they served, received, or what side they wanted to serve from. Then came serving, hitting and rallying, etc.

You nodded your head as you listened, though your eyes occasionally trailed off to his jaw. Sharp. His blonde hair underneath his red cap, no doubt an old cap from Stanford. The bead of sweat that rolled down his temple from the heat and humidity of Pittsburgh. The grey Stanford shirt that clung to his biceps and pecks just right. His black shorts, which somehow seemed shorter and tighter than yours, displayed his toned legs. 

His voice brought you back from your thoughts 

“Sorry?” You replied sheepishly, afraid he’d caught you ogling him. 

“I asked if everything made sense” he chuckled as his beautiful blue eyes met yours. 

“Uh, yeah, no–definitely” you nodded 

After you two warmed up a little, you began to play. Art tossed the tennis ball against the floor catching it as it bounced back up to him, he caught it and placed it in the center part of his racket. He tossed the tennis ball into the air before hitting it to your  side.

Your legs shifted in place, eyes locked on the ball. You moved quickly, but not quick enough. The ball had hit the ground twice. You winced and blushed lightly with embarrassment. “Sorry” you said, picking up the ball. 

Art jogged up to the middle “Hey,  don’t worry. Let’s do a redo” you nodded and handed the ball back to him. Your fingers brushed against his. 

“Hold on” he dropped his racket, walking to your side. Art moved behind you as his hands moved to yours on your racket “If you put your palm against the bevel” His hands directed your dominant one down the neck of the racket, “Keep your fingers here,” his hands guided your fingers. 

His breath brushed against your ear, shooting a shiver down your back and a flutter in your chest “Should make it feel more natural” he said, his hands lingering for a moment before moving back.

He grabbed his racket from the floor and walked to his side. 

He repeated his movements, placing the tennis ball in the center of his racket before tossing it into the air and hitting the ball. 

This time, you reacted quicker as you held the racket in your hands how Art had instructed you to. The yellow fuzzy ball hit against the floor once before you hit it back to his side of the net. The ball landed close by allowing him to hit it back.

You twisted the racket in your hands, hitting the ball back and sending it to the corner of his side. Art grunted as he sprinted but failed to hit it.

You laughed in surprise. “Holy shit!” 

Art smiled over his shoulder, picking up the tennis ball “Wow, good job.” He tossed the ball to you. 

You caught the ball with your free hand “I hope you’re not going easy on me” You said as you walked to the back of your side. “At least try make me work for it”

“Yeah?” Art raised a brow, the corner of his lips curled up, “Is that what you want?”

You gave a nod. 

“I can do that” 

You bounced the ball announcing the score before you tossed the ball to his side, managing to aim it at the center of his side.

His racket hit the ball back to your side. The two of you starting to rally. Art grunted as he ran to hit the ball back towards you, the sweat now somehow making his shirt cling to his body even more.

Sweat dripped down your back and forehead as you panted lightly while you tried to keep up with him. 

He was pretty fucking good and he looked hot doing it too. The way his cheeks were red from the heat, his lips parting slightly as he concentrated, the way his thick fingers wrapped around the handle of his racket, and the sweat that traveled down his forehead and down his neck. 

Admittedly, you had also searched up some of his games. Learned he had played in the US open doubles with his friend named Patrick, who you had yet to find much of now. He was mesmerizing and talented. He seemed like he could give half his true effort and somehow still beat the other person in front of him. He kept his cool on the court. Wouldn't shout obscenities on the court and showed great sportsmanship afterwards, both equally hot. 

The ball landed on your side, bouncing on the opposite corner of your side. You ran, your racket reaching to hit but failed. Giving him a point. 

You let out a groan “I was doing so well”

“Come on, I know you can keep up” Art teased from his side, a grin on his face, flashing his white teeth. 

“I was” You replied as Art grabbed another tennis ball. 

You and Art were sitting on the benches near the court. 

You sat close enough that if you moved your thighs would brush against one another. 

“You’re like the real deal then” You turned your head to look at Art.

“The real deal?” He chuckled, his cheeks heating lightly. Though whether the source was your words or the heat, you couldn't tell. 

You nodded “Yeah, you went to a good school, played at a pretty impressive competition, went to Stanford, and now you're being coached by some tennis prodigy" You replied “Must be nice”

Art rubbed the back of his neck “I’m very thankful. My dad and my mom busted their asses so I could attend the same school as Patrick” 

You had no doubt that was true. You had learned what kind of person Jack Abbot was. Caring in his own way, a little headstrong, a great leader, resilient, and sometimes putting others over himself. Which is what made him such a good doctor and person. You imagined his wife was like that. 

“That's good. Means they love you” You nudged his shoulder lightly. You heard him let out a soft laugh “Have you always enjoyed tennis?” 

“Yeah.” Art nodded, smiling to himself “My mom actually got me into it”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She used to play in college. She used to be the captain of the team” Art's eyes softened as he spoke about his mom, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “She probably could have gone further, but she always said she loved teaching more than competing. She became a teacher, but when she met my dad she got my dad into tennis too” 

“She sounds great” You said 

“Yeah, she was” Art's voice was gentle, remembering his mother didn't bring that somber aching feeling in his chest anymore. It made appreciation and love swell. 

There was a moment of silence between you and Art. Nothing uncomfortable, you had gotten past that point. Rackets hitting tennis balls filled the background, cicadas spread out across the greenery of the public area. The lights of the park now on as the dark night sky spread above. 

Art cleared his throat as he looked at you “How did you get into emergency medicine?” 

You glanced forward. You gave a tiny shrug as you explained. It honestly wasn’t what you had originally expected to do. You had other plans that were different and more complicated in ways you didn’t want to think. 

But, after your father was rushed to the ER after an extreme accident, it brought a glimpse of the world of emergency medicine. The nurse who helped your father had been by your side the most she could be. Checking up on you as much as she checked up on your dad. 

The doctor had reassured you he'd do what he could to help your father. He had given you enough hope that your dad would make it. It helped you through the night which had seemed endless and it helped you now in your everyday life. Dedicating yourself to be like the same doctor who helped your father survive.

Had it not been for the doctor and the nurse, your dad would not be with you. Something inside you had switched. A calling you never thought would find you. You wanted to be there for people’s shittiest day and help them get through it however you could. 

“That’s…wow” Art said softly 

You gave a tiny chuckle, pushing hair behind your ear “maybe I’m dramatizing a little” ears heating up 

“No, I don’t think so. It’s a valid reason.” Art shook his head 

Your eyes met with his blue ones. 

They looked sharp and concentrated across the court. But, now, looking at them straight in front of you? They were soft, downturned, but understanding in a way you hadn’t felt in a while. He listened to your words thoroughly and hadn’t interrupted you. 

There was one more person who looked at you with that same understanding. 

His eyes flickered down to your velvet lips then back to your eyes. You couldn’t help but do the same.

The both of you turned slightly, your thighs pressing against each other. His hand slowly lifted to cup your cheek, holding slight hesitation until he realized you weren’t stopping him. “Can I kiss you?” He whispered, his rough hand brushed against your soft skin.

You nodded. Art leaned in and you met him in the middle. Your lips met. Moving slowly. His lips were soft and moving carefully. His tongue gently brushed against your lips asking for entrance. 

You sighed gently, giving his warm tongue entry. His tongue explored your mouth. You moaned into his mouth before you pulled away slowly when you heard people cheering on another court. 

His lips chased yours as you pulled away. Both of your eyes opened. “Sorry,” he murmured, “too much?”

You shook your head “No” you spoke softly. You glanced around before you pursed your lips. Hesitating. You probably shouldn’t say what you’re about to say. There should be boundaries, especially with the son of your attending. But the pooling in your stomach from just kissing his lips was hard to ignore.

“My place isn’t too far from here” you say, an open invitation. 

The second your door opened and the two of you walked in your lips found Arts. He kissed you with the same passion as before, this time a little harder. His hands resting on your waist as your arms draped around his neck. Your fingers finding his curls. 

You walked backwards towards your room, your back hit a wall gently. He pressed you against it, slotting his leg between your thighs. His tongue explored your mouth making you let out a moan. 

Art's hands moved from your hips to your sides, his fingers tracing the gentle curves of your body. He pulled away gently, nipping at your bottom lip before he began to kiss down your neck. “God, you’re beautiful” he whispered into your ear. 

You panted gently as he kissed your neck, finding the sweet spot and sucking gently on your soft skin. He pulled away before he could make a mark, his lips trailing downward “You looked so beautiful playing across from me” his voice was lower now. His hands moved down to your hips again. “I haven’t been able to get you off my mind” He whispered as he pressed his knee against your heat. 

You let out a soft moan, your hips instinctively rolling against his knee desperate for friction. 

“Christ” he whispered your name desperately, one hand dropped down to give your ass a squeeze “Wanna see how pretty you are. Will you let me? Please, sweetheart” he gave you his pretty puppy dog eyes. Obviously you couldn’t deny him.

You give a nod and Art lifted you up, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist before heading to your bedroom. Once inside, he laid you carefully on the soft satin sheets.

He took off his cap and kicked off his shoes before he crawled on the bed, his hands immediately finding the edge of your shirt “Gotta see what’s under this” he murmured. His hands tugged up on your shirt before tossing it to the floor. Your simple black lacy bra almost made him groan. It was embarrassing how little he’d seen of you and he could feel the tent in his shorts growing. 

His hands move quickly to remove your shoes, socks, and your shorts. Revealing the other half of your matching set. 

“Wear this for me, baby?” His hands ran up your thighs “Say you did” he looked at you with those captivating eyes. He slotted his leg between yours once again 

You nodded “Yeah” you whispered 

His fingers hooked around the waistband of your lace panties, pulling them down slowly. Revealing your glistening folds. Art let out a soft hum at the sight of you. “You’re so wet” he whispered. He trailed kisses down your neck once again, this time making his way down your chest, “Can take this off?” He asked, though his hands were already reaching for the back of your bra. 

You gave him a nod of permission and he unclasped the bra from your body and tossed it aside. The sight of your hard peaks made him strain against his shorts more. Art's lips resumed their way down your chest, kissing you softly between the valley of your breasts before he began to kiss his way to one of your peaks, wrapping his lips around your nipple. His warm tongue made you let out a soft moan. His free hand moving to play with your other one. 

You could feel yourself get more wet as he sucked on your chest and the way his hardened member pressed against your thigh. “Need to feel you” he pulls away from your nipple with a wet pop, his lips moving to the other one. His tongue swirled around your peak as he sucked gently. His other hand flexing around your breast. 

“When I saw you at the hospital” he pulled away as he trailed his mouth back up to your lips “I was so fucking jealous my dad was able to see you every night” his breath brushed against your lips “I had to make shitty excuses just to see you.” His eyes locked with yours “Did you like that? Did you like seeing me come in?”

Your eyes locked with his and you could have sworn your body squeezed around nothing. Of course you liked seeing him come in. It had been a while since any guy had shown any interest in you. Truthfully, after long fucking shifts you had let your brain drift off while you were in bed. 

“Yeah, I did”  

“I’m so happy to hear that" He whispered. 

His hand trailed downwards. His fingers brushed against your slit, making you shiver “Shit, Sweetheart.” He  murmured “Let me touch you, please.” He pleaded 

You buckled your hips, pressing yourself closer to him. 

Arts fingers gathered some of your slickness before his thumb found your bundle of nerves, rubbing small circles. Your head tilted back slightly. “You like that?” He asked, you nodded your head immediately.

He continued circling your clit before slipping one digit inside. Your warm slick walls inviting him in. He groaned as he pushed in another finger “you’re so tight.” 

Your back arched off the bed as his fingers began to move. His thumb brushed over your bundle of nerves again making you moan out his name. His fingers curl. “You sound so beautiful,” he whispers, his fingers picking up speed. You let out another cry as his fingers plunge in further, hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

“Fuck—Art!” Your legs spread, your body begging him for more. His fingers looked pretty thick around his tennis racket, in you? They filled and stretched you out nicely. 

You hear him let out a quiet whine as you squeeze around his fingers. His fingers curl as his thumb presses down on your clit. You gasp softly, your hips twitching at the stimulation. You could feel the coil in your stomach start to tighten. “Art—please—“ you moan

“Yeah? What do you want me to do?” He kissed your jaw “tell me, I’ll do it”

You swear those words could have just made you come right then and there. He was so desperate to please you and it turned you on so much.

“Faster” you gasp, his slow and gentle pace now didn’t seem like enough, your hips pressed against his hand.

Art didn’t reply but happily complied with your request, his fingers now faster. Your wetness making squelching sounds and allowing him to move with ease.

His thumb continued to circle your clit and before you could let out another sound, he leaned back down and connected his lips with yours. He groaned into your mouth.

“Art” you whined between kisses “I’m—so close” you said as your walls tightened around his fingers .

“I know—“ he cooed as he kissed you sloppily “Just a little more” he said as he felt you squeeze again “Come on, I know you can keep up”

You moaned as his pace picked up even more, the curling of his fingers made you tilt your head back against your bed sheets. 

“You look so pretty like this” Art whispered softly “so fucking pretty”

Your hips buckled as you squeezed his fingers once again, begging to let you come “please”you gasped

“Go ahead.” He said “I wanna see how pretty you look” he pecked your lips.

Your thighs clamped around his hand as you came, your walls squeezed his thick fingers like a vice. Art grunted, a wet patch appearing in his shorts “holy shit” he whispered as he drew out your climax. 

“Gotta be inside you, baby” he kissed your lips gently as he pulled out his fingers. “Can I?”

You gave him an eager nod. Art cleaned his fingers with his mouth and almost groaned at the taste of your sweetness.

He shifted on top of you, his hands tugging down his shorts, pulling down his boxers along with them. His thick member sprung out. He grabbed a pillow beside your head, putting it underneath your hips “That okay?” He asked softly as he grabbed your hips 

You nodded. 

He pumped himself a few times before he aligned himself with your tight hole. He pushed past between your puffy walls, his thickness stretched you out a bit more. 

“Stretched you out but you’re still so tight” he whimpered softly. His thumbs brushed slow circles against your hips. He pushed in further before he bottomed out. Both of you moaning. “Let me know when I’m okay to move” Art said as he kissed your cheek gently 

You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm and it didn’t help that you hadn’t had much action in a while. You could feel his hands squeeze your hips as he tried to hold himself back from moving.

 “Okay” you gave a nod as you met eyes with him. 

Art didn’t waste time to draw himself all the way out before he thrusted inside fully, setting a slow and steady pace. You moaned as he thrusted. One of his hands dropped from your hips and moved to circle the bundle of nerves making you squeeze around him. 

“God, sweetheart” he groaned, his pace picked up as he began to slam into you, angling his cock to hit your g-spot.

“Fuck! Art” you moaned, your back arched off the bed and your hands squeezed his biceps. 

“Like that, baby?” He grunted as he used his hand to tilt your hips upwards, letting him plunge deeper. You moaned in response.

That familiar feeling in your stomach returned “Art—so close” you whined as your hips began to push against him desperate to chase that feeling again.

“Me too—fuck me too” he groaned as he thrusted frantically, his pelvis hitting against you, his thumb still circling your clit. 

Before you could warn him you moaned. Your walls tightened around him gripping him as you came. Your toes curled. Art groaned as he thrusted into you desperately. “Want to come inside you” he moaned “can I?” He whined 

“Yes” you managed to make out. That was all it took for him to whimper out as he spilled himself into you. 

His lips found yours and kissed you desperately. 

Pulling away for air, Art slowly began to pull out slowly before he laid beside you.

The two of you panted as you tried to catch your breath. Sweat clung to your bodies.

Art turned his body towards you, his hand reaching for your hip, rubbing small circles with his thumb “you okay?” He asked

You nodded, turning your body towards him. Your hands found their way to the nape of his neck, playing with the blonde curls that were now clinging to his skin from the sweat. 

He turned his head, pecking your arm. He kissed up your arm, then your collar bone, up your neck, your jaw, and then a quick kiss on your lips before he nuzzled against your neck. “Did I do good?” he murmured.

You held his head close, hands running through his blonde hair “yeah” you murmured

Bliss slowly turned into realization. 

You just fucked your attendings son.

This was way out of bounds.