#💍💍💍💍💍

[grouper]

daisy daisy

[starrstruckcanuck]

I'm once again asking for Arty's hand in marriage.

[womansfilm]

The Impatient Years (1944)

[philipforscale]

Feels Right

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Dan proposes.

read on ao3

[frederikvesti]

DENNY HAMLIN - 2024 Bass Pro Shops Night Race, Post-Race Interview

[k-0re]

KORE HI HELLO ITS ME AGAIN😋😋

TYSM FOR THE SUPPORT ON MY EDIT UR ART IS SO COOL ITS LITERALLY IMPOSSIBLE TO NOT EDIT

(i will be posting much more😻😻)

I JUST DAW THIS NOW AND I JUST SAW UR LATEST EDIT OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU

[deathofacupid]

my beautiful angel, that anon was indeed a hater ass bitch, just note to anon, don't give criticism when it's not asked for, if that was even considered criticism and not straight up hate.

as for my stunning, talented angel. that fic was dedicated to ME and i won't allow any hate on it, that fic literally made my day and reawakened by dead soul with how fluffy nd beautiful it was. absolute work of art and breathtaking writing that just....wow, made me so shsjejjsje yk?? i can't even fathom it into words.

ignore the anon, they were spewing nothing but bullshit, and don't let it get to you, my beautiful angel, okay? all of your fics are awesome and amazing and beautiful and stunning and breathtaking and all of the good stuff ❤️❤️❤️

ilysm now i’m crying ❤️❤️❤️

[mr-malumm]

Morning routine of local TV star

[sunlit-mess]

doodle for 10k in twitter 🥹

AU by @notherpuppet

[magicalbunbun]

Guys I feel in love with her.

🧙‍♀️💍🍒

[oldjewelryfeed]

Ancient Medieval Ring Viking Nordic 800-1300 AD

[fury161]

nickys

[coffeemusicluv]

wait lowkey me coded but with caitlyn 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

you hate caitvi bc you hate lesbians, i hate caitvi bc i want vi and will make her happier.

we are not the same.

[deeva-arud]

So I found my watercolors

Kanaria's KING blasting in the background

[littlejoels]

you’d kissed art right there in front of everyone. just one hand curled at the back of his sweaty neck, lips brushing his cheekbone before slipping lower, a whisper of good luck, baby, warm against the hollow beneath his ear. you could feel how tight his shoulders were, barely coiled tension, his mouth twitching like he wanted to say something but didn’t dare—not when lily was clinging to your leg, babbling about something sticky she’d touched in the car.

he was always so good before matches. eyes dipping, pretty cheeks a little pink, and that desperate undercurrent vibrating in his voice like he was seconds away from crumbling under your hand, even in public. God, you loved watching him choke it down.

but you had to pee. badly.

so you took lily’s small hand, waved him off like you weren’t tracking every line of strain on his pretty face, and made your way up to the concourse. it smelled like popcorn and testosterone while the bathrooms were the usual disaster: fluorescent lights flickering, water pooling on tile like it had no drain to go to, some poor mom yelling at her kid in the next stall. lily held your phone while you peed and lectured you about not washing your hands long enough. you humored her, dried your palms on your tight jeans, and stepped back out.

and there he was. patrick zwieg.

“you’re outnumbered today,” he joked, eyes dropping to lily, “whole damn team of girls in your corner.”

you laughed, because he was right, and because he looked so tired, and sad lately. making you want to hug him without thinking, and that’s what you did—arms tight, chin over his shoulder, hands squeezing like you were trying to will your affection into his bones. and he hugged back, enjoying every second.

you had no idea art saw it. no idea that from the sidelines he froze mid-stretch, one leg up on the bench, watching your arms wrapped around patrick like you were comforting a soldier back from war. you had no idea how green he went, the flush that crawled up his throat not from exertion but from jealousy, from that choking curl of possessive panic. and he didn’t say a word about it.

he played like his life depended on it. like he was ripping the court apart piece by piece and offering it to you. he barely acknowledged the crowd, barely let anyone touch him, not even when fans tried to hug him. he just came straight for you, sweaty and heaving. he kissed lily’s head, nodded stiffly at patrick, and looped his arm around your waist with his hand low, too low for a normal art post-game pat. you felt the heat in him. the tight, cold possessiveness boiling behind his silence. he wouldn’t even meet your eyes.

you didn’t tease him about it, scared you might wake up a unfriendly beast. you were quiet the whole drive, though your palm stroked slow circles into his thigh while he white-knuckled the wheel. he dropped lily at tashi’s with a polite kiss to her cheek and a forced thank you honey for coming with me, and the second the car door slammed shut behind you two again, he snapped.

you didn’t even make it two steps in the house before he was on you, hand fisted tight in the back of your shirt, dragging you back against him like he needed you to feel how hard he was.

“what the fuck was that,” he whispered.

you blinked slow, playing dumb. “what was what?”

he let out a rough, shaky breath against your neck. “no. don’t do that.”

you turned in his grip, gripped his jaw. “do what, artie?”

his throat bobbed when he swallowed. his voice was quiet, but it trembled with rage and desperation. “that thing you do. where you act like you didn’t know. like it didn’t mean anything..like i didn’t watch you wrap your arms around him like he fucking belonged to you.”

you tilted your head, studying him. “patrick?”

he groaned and pulled away, like the name tasted like rust in his mouth. “God, stop saying his fucking name, please, i can’t—i can’t hear you say it again. not when i can’t get the hug out of my head.”

“you’re being ridiculous.”

“i know,” he said instantly, half-laughing, half on the verge of tears. “i know i am. i know you didn’t mean anything by it, but it doesn’t fucking matter because i felt like my lungs collapsed. i saw you with him and i—i couldn’t breathe. i couldn’t fucking think.”

you leaned back against the wall and crossed your arms, watching him. he was pacing now, fingers threading through his hair, talking so fast the words tripped over each other.

“it’s just—the way you looked at him. like you cared. like you missed him. i know you’re allowed to have friends, i know you’re allowed to hug whoever the fuck you want, i know that, but i just stood there watching and i swear i felt something crack'd open inside me and i—”

he stopped mid-sentence and turned to face you again, chest heaving, lips parted like he was waiting to be punished or kissed. or maybe both.

“i’m sick,” he said quietly. “i’m fucking sick with you.”

you walked toward him slowly, hands sliding up under his shirt as you went. his skin twitched under your palms like you were cold. he didn’t even move, just stared at you like a starving thing, breathing hard.

“then show me how sick you are.”

“i will..anything—i’ll do anything.” his voice broke in a way that made your core throb with lust and admiration. “i don’t want to be right about this. i want you to tell me i’m being crazy. i want you to hurt me for thinking it. i want you to remind me i’m yours because i feel so fucking lost when you look at someone else for more than a second—”

“jesus, art.”

he grabbed your wrist, pressed it hard to his chest, over his racing heart. “you don’t get it. you don’t feel like this. i—i don’t want anyone else. i don’t even look at anyone else. it’s you, it’s only you, it’s always been you, and i’ll beg on my knees if that’s what you want, just please tell me that hug didn’t mean anything. tell me you didn’t want him to touch you back.”

“of course it didn’t mean anything. it was a fucking hug, art. what, you think he can make me cum with just his arms?” you snap.

he whimpered like you’d slapped him and dropped to his knees right there on the carpet, hands clutching at your hips.

“no. no, i know. i know he can’t. no one can. just you. please, let me prove it—”

“prove it how?”

he looked up at you, eyes glassy, mouth open,“anything. let me worship you. let me fuckin’ stay down here forever. tell me i’m pathetic. tell me i’m yours. i want you to say it while i’m choking on it.”

you grinned. “you want to choke?”

he nodded violently, already mouthing at the inside of your thigh like it would make you merciful. “on you. only you. i wanna gag on your hand while you tell me you’d never let someone like him have you. i want to feel you angry. just—mark me up so i can feel it for days. make me bleed if you want, i don’t care. i need to feel you on me. in me.”

you grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back, loving the whimper it dragged from his throat. “look at you. you jealous little bitch.”

his breath hitched. “yes. yes, i am. i don’t want to share you, not even your fucking hugs.”

“then maybe you should keep me too busy to touch anyone else.”

“i will. i will. i’ll be better. i’ll be your best. just—please. please, baby.”

you pushed your fingers into his mouth, watched his eyes flutter shut as he moaned around them. and this time when he begged, it wasn’t with words.

retags: @inbred-eater @faiszt @cherrygirlfriend @nemesyaaa @tinythebunni

inspiration ➳ my lovey @rafesplaymate