too-deviant

[too-deviant]

yup. exactly!!!

masturbation mention; handjobs; college!art; fem!reader; no spoilers MDNI 18+ w/ ART DOANLDSON

when art donaldson gets a boner, it's nearly impossible for it to go down. he's tried everything in the book. well, everything in patrick's book—taking a cold shower, thinking about his grandmother in her underwear, changing his position. but nothing has ever worked, leaving him to excuse himself at inconvenient times so he could fist his cock until he was satisfied.

but being here with you, art can't do that. he's already flaked on your study sessions one too many times and he really, really doesn't want to have to flake again. for a reason as trivial and embarrassing as a boner at that.

he really didn't mean for it to happen. but he just happens to be in your space, surrounded by your trinkets, watching you move around in a pair of shorts that reminded him of the pair tashi wore that night. which got him thinking about the situation he was in just a year ago. which made him imagine you and him in a situation similar, perhaps even with tashi and patrick there.

you're speaking to him. your hands are moving in patterns that art should recognize, and you're lips are moving, too. but he's distant. distracted.

he blinks twice, shaking the overgrown blond curls out of his face as he fixes his gaze on you again.

"'m ... i'm sorry. what were you saying?"

you drop your hands and place them in your lap. you look disappointed.

"dude. i'm really trying to pass this midterm."

art drops his head. he initially does it in an act of shame, but then he notices your hands resting along your glistening skin and he's suddenly made aware of his boner once more. he groans, resting his elbows into the decorative pillow covering his lap as he covers his face with his hands.

"i know, i know. i'm really, really sorry." he sniffs, straightens up, and focuses all of his attention on studying with you. but now it's you who's distracted.

you tilt your head and eye him up and down. art, worrying that you might have fucking x-ray vision or something, adjusts the way he’s sitting. he thinks he's being casual, but then he clears his throat and looks off to the side and he can hear your small 'oh'.

“haven’t tried thinking about your grandmother?”

art, embarrassed at having been caught, says nothing.

“want me to help you out?” you offer. you say it like a joke, so art laughs. but then you don’t laugh, too.

you’re staring at him, a small smile on your lips as you push your weight into your hands behind you. the twin XL bed can only allow so much room, so even as you’re leaning away from him art feels like you’re right there.

“you’re joking, right?”

you take a second, and then you shake your head.

and that’s how art ends up digging his hands into your sheets as he watches your hand glide over his cock through heavy eyes.

you’re sitting with your feet tucked under your butt, one hand scratching through art’s hair and the other working on his cock.

art’s free hand is pressing into the line of skin between your top and shorts.

you’re doing so well, making him feel so good, but you still ask for confirmation through a low voice.

“does this feel good?”

and your face is so much closer to him than he thought. your voice is right next to his ear. it travels down through him, making even more blood rush to his cock if even possible.

art nods, tearing his eyes away from your hand wrapped around his cock to look at you. but you’re already looking at him, your hand pulling on a loose curl of his while you smile. art smiles back, just before you pull him closer and press your lips to his.

kissing distracts you, so art takes over. he shifts his cock up into your hand, doing the work for you. he circles his hand around your back and pulls you closer until he can feel your breasts pushing against his arm through your shirt. whatever bra you’re wearing must be thin, because art can feel your nipples poking him.

he means to warn you. he wants to let you know before it happens. but you regain some of your focus and your thumb presses into his tip, and he’s thinking about how you told him he had a pretty dick, and he can feel your tits and suddenly his hips are lifting and cock is twitching and he’s cumming all over your hand and his thighs.

#@lia’s recs

[too-deviant]

gotta bring this back now the movie is out 🤗

ray bans.

with…ART DONALDSON!

contains…fem!reader, 18+ CONTENT!, handjob, p in v, public sex

You blame the tequila.

Strong and sharp in your glass at the tennis luncheon your boss had invited you to, swishing around with every movement you made as you told an overexaggerated story to Art Donaldson. He didn’t pay a lot of attention, you could tell, but his eyes were so firm on yours that you needed to talk to get the nerves out. 

It was the tequila, not his eyes, that got you cornered in a bathroom too fancy to be anywhere but this cushy hotel, legs pushed back so far you felt a burn in the crease of your groin. Those dusty blonde curls buried between your thighs, perfectly calloused hands holding them apart so he could lap at you with perfect fervour. 

Your eyes were watering, and he gazed at you as you came down, rubbing up and down your legs until you were ready to push yourself down and onto your feet. You wiped the runoff mascara as best you could, but huffed at the stains around your eyes.

Art had grinned, slid his sunglasses from his collar and placed them perfectly over your eyes. You’d asked him when he wanted them back, and he’d just smirked. 

Which was how you found yourself scooting past old people in linen suits and straw hats, expensive bags and designer shades on their noses. Yours weren’t designer, but they were Art Donaldson’s, so you won. 

In this life you took your seat in the rows at the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Centre — a doozy of a sentence to tell your Uber driver. In this life you slid Art Donaldson’s sunglasses over your eyes and waited patiently for him to sidle onto the court, slam himself a win, and meet you in the bar to take them back. 

His hits were precise, hard, fast. The muscles in his arms and neck pulled beautifully. You pulled the plush of your lip between your teeth, letting it go when he hit another, his grunt louder to you know. Clearer. 

But as your eyes pivoted back and forth across the court, his opponents moves much more confident and fluid than his, the life changed. Now this life was a tense strain in your neck, your fingers tight around the dress you wore just for today. In this life, Art Donaldson lost, and when everyone else was cheering for the winner, you were watching him storm away. 

It was quicker to manoeuvre through the crowds now that everyone else was leaving. You didn’t have to worry about bumping into people, because they were all bumping into you and there was a collective agreement that any and all shoulder shoving slash toe-stepping was okay for now. So you slid your way through, sidestepping through the rows of seats and going down a row every time you got to some stairs — ensuring that it wasn’t completely obvious where you were going. 

You made awkward eye contact with the ball boy but your confident smile put him at ease and he dismissed you completely, allowing you to slip around the back of the stands and into the locker room. 

It was much quieter in there, the noise of the crowd fading into nothing when the door closed behind you. Now you could focus on your surroundings, the sound of water dripping and heavy breaths. 

You parted your lips gently, “Art?”

Footsteps, and then the blonde man was rounding a row of lockers and meeting your sly gaze. His own was shrouded in barely covered anger and light confusion, the latter crowing over a bit more when you took steps to invade his personal space. 

“You came.” 

“Well…” You shrugged, lifting the glasses off your head and tucking them into the collar of his polo. Letting your hand linger on the planes of his collarbones, feeling the heat radiating from the skin beneath the cotton. “That was quite some game.” 

Art huffed, “I was in walkabout. Shit luck.” 

You leaned ever so slightly closer, running your hand down his chest to just above the waistband of his shorts. You admired the way he looked under the lights — the beads of sweat on his jugular, the happy trail you could feel peek out from under the hem of the shirt. Your other hand stayed propped against the locker, and he was quick to run his own down your wrist, cupping your elbow. 

“Well…I say we pick up where we left off, no? That make you feel better?”

You narrowed your brows at him in a silent question. His minute nod was enough. Then your hand was sliding beneath his waistband, dipping into his underwear — Tommy Hilfiger — and wrapping around the base of his cock. 

He sucked in a breath, fingers tightening around your other arm, jaw ticking and eyes firmly on yours. You didn’t break contact even when you squeezed him a bit and he let out a shaky groan. 

You dropped your other hand, hooked your fingers around this waistband. Pulled it back so you could lean forward, eyes glaring at where your other hand sat. Then, with a noise so sweet he might have exploded, you let a string of spit slide from between your lips. Art watched it fall, achingly slow, onto his shaft, and then held back a cry when you started to slide your hand up and down his dick. Wetting it just right. 

You looked back up at him, made him look back at you. You pumped your fist slowly, thumbing his tip and adding his precum to your saliva. The sounds were erotic on their own, and even you had to tense your thighs together. Art’s own legs shook from his standing position, but before he could drop his head onto your shoulder you were removing both hands from his body and smirking at his painful moan. 

With your right hand still wet from his cock, you printed a perfect print on the front of his polo and pushed him gently back. He walked, transfixed on your gaze, until his calves were hitting the wooden bench and he was being sat down. He stared up at you, pleadingly so, and you lifted the hem of your dress just enough so you could slide onto your knees on either side of his hips. 

With your crotches pressed together, Art couldn’t stop his hands from flying to your ass and squeezing. You grinned, and his smirk returned in full force. 

“Should lose more often.” He murmured, leaning forward and pressing his nose against your chest, the low cut of your dress feeding his carnal desire to completely devour you. 

You hushed him gently, pushing yourself up so you could slide his shorts and boxers down to his thighs. His dick sprung out beautifully, making another wet patch where it hit the bottom of his shirt. You used your hand, brought one of his around so he could pump himself while you reached under your dress and pushed your underwear to the side. Then you were shuffling forward and letting Art align the tip of his cock with the wet of your folds.

You didn’t waste a moment, bracing yourself on his shoulders and rolling your hips along his own. Your breathy moans accumulated to the steam you had now registered coming from the shower he had abandoned in favour of letting you take him like this. His huffs and puffs only increased as he began to control your movements, rutting into you from below. 

The creaky hinges of the bench cried with every hurried thrust, but the shower muffled most of your sounds. You gave into your urges and licked a stripe up the plane of his neck, bringing your hands around to grip hard at his back, creasing his already ruined shirt. His own mouth was suckling and nipping at your chest, hitting that sweet sweet spot just in time for your movements to get a little sloppy. 

Smacks of skin on skin fuelled the fire in your gut, and your fingers coiled around his blonde curls. His own movements stuttered, and you let out a guttural groan into the humidity of the room when you finally reached your peak, Art following not far behind you. 

You stood with effort, fixing your underwear and patting your dress down while Art panted beneath you. Then you patted him on the cheek, took his sunglasses back from his shirt and put them right back on your face.

“I’ll see you at the mixer next month.”

divider by @bunnysrph 🫶

#@lia’s works #art donaldson x you

[too-deviant]

challengers spoilers (?)

no man sweats that much

also the stool slide was crazy……i need them both rn

#@lia yaps #challengers movie

[too-deviant]

hi you're so good at writing it has to be illegal to be so good

you're awesome basically

thank you sm! 🫶🫶☹️☹️

#@lia’s lovies #@lia yaps

[too-deviant]

why is this me

INTRODUCING… LEOPARD!READER!

just because she’s a pogue doesn’t mean she can’t be the coolest chick in the obx. chunky gold earrings, leopard print everything, jeans that don’t fit her, black lace, dark red nails, whether it be acrylics she saved up for or just polish.

she’s constantly using her pretty privilege to get her way, big dilated eyes and slow flirty blinks to reel in unsuspecting tourons at keggers before pocketing their wallets.

of course her unexpected fast pace and insanely high stamina keeping things interesting when nobody can keep up with her after stealing whatever shit the pogues need. she’s a natural at jumping over fences, walls, whatever.

she’s got very quick temper, gritting her sharp canines a little too hard if someone says something about someone she loves, dropping her chill girl persona, fighting dirty n not stopping till she’s physically ripped away, then fighting whoever pulled her off.

massive oral fixation, sinking her teeth into anything on instinct, pretty much always chewing on her necklaces, knawing on her acrylics, or leaving indents in her man’s arm, he loves it really.

animal lover, given names to all the local stray cats and dogs and tries to feed ‘em every day, they all know where to go.

when you pass her house on certain morning she’s outside with all the forgotten strays, kneeling as she feeds them scraps of meat and it’s probably the happiest she’s ever looked.

which boy would she be most compatible with?

tagging moots:

@junekicks @juniebugg @hewwokitti @vaisoric @prettys0bbing @princessmaybank @poguesprincess @redhead1180 @maiiuelle @lustnluv @kraekat29 @forstarkey @pudyrankow @heartsforvin

#obx #@lia’s recs

[too-deviant]

best day of my fucking life

did someone say challengers and monkey man double bill??

#well yes!

[too-deviant]

CHALLENGERS BEST PICTURE ZENDAYA IS TAKING IT MIKE FAIST IS TAKING IT JOSH O’CONNOR IS TAKING IT

#i will never be the same i fear #speechless #but also heading straight to letterboxd #@lia yaps #challengers movie #challengers

[too-deviant]

“i haven’t been writing because of work”

“I haven’t been writing because of my mental health”

well, i haven’t been writing because my acrylics need an infill and they keep catching on each-other when i type because they are too long.

#my appointment is next week #never fear #@lia yaps

[too-deviant]

zain iqbal is so yummy !

also stanley didn’t deserve the ‘redemption’ he got from pip like ok he was shunned as a child but he was also racist…….

is this a safe space for agggtm fans….

#this isn’t a crazy thing to say #but i feel it will turn heads #not the stanley thing #like am i taking pips man? #it feels like it #but also it doesn’t #i’m being crazy right? #@lia yaps

[too-deviant]

I’ve just finished the first book of A good girl’s guide to murder by Holly Jackson and I’m obsessed with these characters.

I’ve already bought the second book!

If you haven’t read it yet, get on it! You won’t be disappointed!

[too-deviant]

is this a safe space for agggtm fans….

#can i say smthn #@lia yaps #agggtm #a good girls guide to murder #ravi singh #pippa fitz amobi

[too-deviant]

can he reign himself in

#the song he put over the post… #he’s such a dick #@lia yaps #luke castellan #charlie bushnell

[too-deviant]

did someone say challengers and monkey man double bill??

#my seat will be wet as hell tomorrow #someone sedate me #dev patel save me #@lia yaps

[too-deviant]

a face made to be sat on i fear

there’s something abt this one

#the voices

[too-deviant]

updating this very soon….so catch up while you can 😁

jackie and wilson.

in which…you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile.

i. she blows outta nowhere, roman candle of the wild

— you meet your eccentric camp tour guide! (sarcasm intended)

ii. and, lord, she found me just in time

— luke has an identity crisis while you ogle at how pretty he is

iii. she’s gonna save me, call me ‘baby’, run her hands through my hair

— luke has fun for the first time in a long time, and you finally get a glimpse into his head.

iv. better yet, she wouldn’t care

— you snap, and suddenly luke doesn’t think anyone understands him like you do

— THE FOURTH OF JULY INTERLUDE —

v. lord, it’d be great to find a place we could escape sometime

— you finally show luke what he’s been missing since he got to camp, and your mom has a few questions for him.

vi. we tried the world, good god, it wasn’t for us

— forty kids, two chaperones, one hell of a trip to olympus

vii. i start digging up the yard for what’s left of me and our little vignette

— luke let’s you go

viii. ##### ## ## ###### ### #####

— [ERROR 404: NOT FOUND]

#bold of me to assume anyone cares enough to catch up #there’s a few of u out there i’m sure #i haven’t updated in a hot min i hope you didn’t forget about me #@lia yaps #@lia’s works

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why can’t i click any links

#sigh #this is not a good day for me #@lia yaps

[too-deviant]

i need him….so bad……

#i’m like spongebob whenever he doesn’t have water #crawling along gravel for him #@lia yaps #mike faist