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new theme

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https://www.tumblr.com/sofiskin/786783595130978304/baby-please-post-one-of-the-drabbles-u-have-about

i think i actually died and came back to life. i think i love you. PLEASE NEVER STOP WRITING!!!!!

dude u dont know how much this means to me I LOVE YOUUUUUUU thank you😭😭😭😭

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i need a yearning, soul crushing, hopeless romantic, heart aching, love of my life, summer romance to happen this year

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baby PLEASE post one of the drabbles u have about aaron tveit...please...i'm so thirsty...

im literally always thinking being his controversially young girlfriend… him proudly brandishing you on his shoulder at events, featuring you in small snippets on his instagram, mentioning you in passing during interviews.

hes sweet, on camera. hes sweet when theres an audience. but in private… oh lord. he comes home from rehearsals sweaty and worked out. kisses you when he walks in, strips, hands you his stuff, and storms to the bathroom. he finds you in the kitchen once hes done, making his dinner. “what’re you making baby? im starved.” he feels your body through your silk sleepwear, the set he bought you for your anniversary, smiling. coincidentally, this is the set you wore the first time he slapped you in bed. he hasn’t done it since, in 3 months, yet he’s always thinkkng about it. always thinking about how red he could get your face, how smudged he could get your makeup, how weak he could get your voice.

he rocks an erection while he reads emails, leaning against the kitchen counter. you rush, bring the meal you’re cooking to the point where it can be let alone for a period of time. you turn around, dropping to your knees while he stares at his phone, unbothered. you pull down his boxers swiftly, breathing in his deep musk, the sweat that hadn’t quite melted off under the hot shower. his cock springs up with its throbbing power, nearly hitting your nose. you get to work, lazily dragging your tongue over his member, lapping at his precum, aaron placing his left hand on the back of your head, pulling your hair, continuing to scroll with his other hand. never once looking at you. his ignorance draws your eyebrows together, sucking his dick down into your throat and looking up at him hoping for any kind of reaction. it isn’t until you’re deepthroating him ‘til the point of tears that he looks down at you, smiling, wiping your snot and tear and sweat covered face to see your submissive face underneath they all agony of his cock clogging your airways. he shakes his head, scoffing, looking back at his phone. “having fun, baby?” he smiles again, slapping your cheek playfully, feeling himself through the supple skin there, he says, “alright, come on, im hungry.”your eyes widen as you smell the smoke roaming around your house. finally pulling back, you stand up so swiftly you have to grip aaron’s shoulders for support. you turn around and save the meal before it’s too late.

or later, when he’s laying in bed, watching tv and humming along to a tune he finally learned the right notes for earlier that day. when you’re in the master bathroom, dressing for bed, doing your nightly skincare, all paid for by aaron, and tying your hair in a ponytail before shutting the light off and walking out to your shared bedroom. you lay down, cuddle up to him and trace you fingertips over his chest, feeling the vibrations of his trained yet effortless melodic humming. he lays under you, warm as the sun, in only his boxers, hair a bit of a mess but in a way that can only be called the Aaron Way, where its placed just right, highlighting just how much hair he actually has. he finishes his song, and you move to lay on top of him, straddling his hips, feeling his manhood through the thin material of his boxers and your silk shorts (you chose not to wear underwear. not that you ever do.). he smiles, lets you have your fun, grinding up and down on his slowly but surely growing cock. he pulls your head to the side of his, groaning directly into your ear while he slips his free hand into your tiny shorts to play with your ass. he subtly begins to trail his hands lower, feels the heat of your core against his fingertips, stretches his arm far to play with your quivering clit. as soon as you halt movement even slightly, shaking in pleasure, aaron slaps his hand down hard on your ass, reminding you of your purpose. he slips a finger or two into your hole when he feels you get particularly shaky, curling his fingers and hitting the stop he knows makes you weak. he pulls your head back harsh by the grip of your ponytail, staring deep into your eyes so he can see you snap in real time, up close and personal.

“who’s pussy is this? who do you belong to, baby?” he whispers, keeping his eyes on your own as they roll back into your head. when he hears your lack of response, he slaps you again, this time across your face. and again. and again. not enough to break your pretty face, but painful enough to leave a mark for the morning. “who. come on baby, talk to me.” he speeds up his movements under your shorts, gripping your jaw with the other hand. “yours… it’s yours…” you finally utter, out of breath, hot in the face. “is it mine, doll? and who am i? you can do it, come on sweetheart…” you open your eyes, staring at his teasing smirk as he eases of his fingers inside you, not pulling out but stopping enough to cause your hips to involuntarily buck into the warm embrace of his expert touch. “daddy… im daddy’s baby…” he chuckles, letting go of your jaw to grip your hair for a milisecond, then scratching the top of your head as if he was petting a cat. “good girl. does my baby want to cum? is that what she needs?” you nod, looking up at him with your sweetest eyes in hopes it can get you what you so desperately need. he slaps you. hard. he grips you again, tighter, as he stares at you on the verge of a meltdown with how bad you need release. “PLEASEplease yes please daddy..!!!! please. yes please…”

tysm for the req and tysm for reading !!! xxx

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duuuuuuuuuuuuude

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Reblog if you support squishy bellies, have a squishy belly, or have the desire to summon satan

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Yes

Art x breastfeeding reader…. She’s over supplying and yk EXACTLY where that’s going…

art thought having twins would make things easier in some aspects.

like breastfeeding.

each boy will have a boob to suckle out of, they would both be happy. and happy kids = happy wife. and a happy wife means a happy life.

right?

right.

both boys had a favoritism to your right boob. he doesn't know why, he personally finds both of them as pretty as the other. but now you're in pain, something about your left boob clogging?

he doesn't know what that means, but your left boob does look bigger, but not in a good way. in a 'about to burst' way.

"are you okay?" he whispers, careful not to piss you off. his hands rub your sides, his eyes gently and full of worry. you shake your head, whimpering. "no. nothing is coming out and-" you groan, looking up at him with tearful eyes. "there's alot of milk in this one but nothing is coming out. not even the pump is helping."

he gulps, slightly conflicted because he's just as out of his element as you. his hand goes up to your jaw, offering a nervous smile. "maybe i can help...?"

in a matter of minutes you're on his lap, left tit in his mouth while he massages your right one. you try not to moan, your hand softly gripping his hair. "you're having too much fun.." you whine, and he continues sucking, a bit of your milk dripping down his chin.

its in about a minute of him sucking that you feel it physically unclog. he pulls away, looking up at you with the biggest smile. "did it work?" he asks and you nod, smiling while letting a sigh of relief. "thank you so much." you mumble, kissing him before getting off him.

"you taste really good..." he mumbles, grabbing your hand before you pull your shirt back on. "can i have more, please..." he whines, pulling you back into his lap. "the twins have enough already."

you dont get to answer before he's already sucking your nipple, his forehead pressed against your breast, you're too tired to say no, and the position he has you in is comfortable. and the relief he's giving you by practically pumping your milk.

he notices how comfortable you're getting, and he smiles. "you're so strong, you know?" he praises, pressing lingering kisses against your neck. "you can sleep.." he purrs, cradling you like you cradle the twins. "its okay."

໒꒱‧ tags below

@hrtshapedblg @val3ntin33

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CW: MDNI, NSFW

Dilf Coach!Art who feels like he should know better. You’re way too young, barely out of college, way too off limits. He’s friends with your dad for crying out loud.  But everytime you walk on the court in your tiny tennis skirt (he swears they get shorter every time he sees you) he starts to sweat and his palms feel itchy. 

Dilf Coach!Art who’s kind of a pushover. He can’t really say no to you. He tries but you manage to walk all over him easily. Five laps around the court turns into two. Twenty push ups turn into ten. The whole time he’s getting distracted. Fixated on your tits bouncing when you jog, or the little bit of cleavage that shows and the way your skirt rides up when you’re on your hands and knees for push ups.     

Dilf Coach!Art who gives in when you beg him for a ride home after practice. It’s started to rain and your parents are running late and he’s just trying to be nice. He does notice the way you squeeze your thighs together, the way your breathing picks up once the car door shuts.  

Dilf Coach!Art who tells himself it’s only gonna happen one time when you guide his hand between your thighs at the red light so he can feel how wet you are for him. When you crawl onto his lap after he pulls over behind the club parking lot. When he shivers as he sinks into your tight wet cunt. 

Dilf Coach!Art who loses it almost immediately when you get on top of him— you’re just too fucking pretty! He slides his hands up under your top to cup your tits as you ride him and suddenly he’s seizing up… begging and pleading with himself… “No no, please. Fuck… oh please no fuck fuck fuck…” and suddenly he’s painting inside your walls with so much cum, shame filled tears in his eyes. “Shit… shit I’m sorry.” An even more shameful whisper. “Are you on the pill?”

Dilf Coach! Art who makes it up to you by laying you out in the backseat. Fingers and mouth in your cunt, fucking you so good you end up soaking the leather of his fancy sports car. The one he bought after the divorce to make himself feel better. He’s gonna have to get it detailed. But at least it’s only the one time because he’s not gonna do it again. He’s really, really not. Really.

(Blah! Rumors of dilf coach!Art in my inbox. So here are some random head canons no one asked for to help me flesh him out. He won’t be here for a while.)

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THE WORLD IS HEALING MIKE FAIST THEATRE COMEBACK

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omfg writing a self indulgent fanfic and its my longest😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 yall get ready i guess !!!!

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thats my daddy!!!!!!!

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lord save me!!!!

AARON TVEIT as GARETH RITTER BRAINDEAD (2016) EP03: Goring Oxes: How You Can Survive the War on Government Through Five Easy Steps

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not sure Art Donaldson is a very sexy name ☠️😭 sorry homie can’t get into that one

fart donaldson… farrrrrrt…

i did not come up with this name ermmm contact justin kuritzkes about this matter

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auuuuuuhhhhh

MIKE WARREN CRYING | GRACELAND - S02E12: Echoes - S03E08: Savior Complex - S01E06: Hair of the Dog - S03E07: Bon Voyage - S01E04: Pizza Box - S02E09: Gratis

requested by: @gingerpeachtea [remake/redo of this set]

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ok so can you write a fic where art is like the trainer? he’s training a girl on how to play tennis and he starts getting touchy grindin all up in her space?

right thanks ok

training season

— dilf!art x reader

as part of your scholarship at the academy, you were offered free lessons from any of the alumni of the school. considering this academy kinda sucks, options were limited, making art donaldson an obvious choice. at first, you wore tights to lessons, the seasons were shifting as you were just coming out of fall, leaving you shivering just before warming up before all your lessons. you dressed modestly. obviously. you hadn’t spoken to art much… you hadn’t felt his charm. however, times were changing; breezes passed and the sun came out as the sweat of summer shone on your skin in the open daylight. you started (gladly, at this point) wearing your skimpy little tennis skirts and dresses, ditching your lululemon tight zip-up tops for bra tops and tanks. this also meant the loss of grey sweatpant season for art… a terribly saddening realisation for you, who had spent the fall season staring at his bulge while you wished he wasn’t looking. does he even wear fucking underwear???

being trained by art was easier than you thought it’d be. with his ex-wife’s reputation, you expected hard work and minimal breaks from him.. but maybe he took a liking to you…? he was a very hands-on learner. he made sure to correct your form when you needed it, making direct eye contact as he gripped your wrists firmly, moving your arms in the direction of a perfected backhand.

on one hot night, you were trying and failing with a specific move art wanted you to practice with him. “you’re missing the bended knees, you’re too stiff in your shoulders… get down a bit lower, don’t be afraid to lean forward if you need…” he continued to serve the bright green balls at you as your sweat accumulated at your forehead and top lip. you fumble once more, causing art to sigh deeply, rushing to stand behind you. “i told you, lean forward…” he lets out puffs of hot air by your ear as he pushes you forward, your tennis skirt riding up. suddenly you can’t find the air to breathe properly. the warmth of Mr. Art Donaldson overwhelms you, traps you in his fleeting arms, forces you into submission.

is it possible to get drunk on a man’s temperature?

art notices. like always. he notices your knees buckling and your chest tightening and he moves closer and closer to your awaiting entrance. “here,” he starts, pulling back only his upper half, leaving his hips close to joined to yours, placing his large, sweaty hands on each side of your lower back, pushing you torso forward juuuuust ever so slightly. you let out a harsh gasp as you feel a certain someone against your ass. and, from what you can tell, god, he’s big. getting distracted, you feel around a bit, letting your behind slide up and down only a little bit, purely to satiate your curiosity. suddenly, art pushes further into you, grinding against you. still holding your hips, he leans his head forward, “i didn’t realise you were naughty like this, doll,” he fucking groans into your ear as he theoretically fucks your clothed ass, moaning and groaning right up against your ears.

aaaaand once again idk how to finish/continue this. plz send in asks to help meeeeeeee i want to complete something for onceeee!!!!! thx for reading 💗💗💗

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