#it's the end of the world but it's a beautiful day

[sceletaflores]

Being a professional masseur for players and taking care of our boy art.

Hes just so sad and so pretty that you just giving head to make him feel better 😔

Plot twist: he falls in love with you because duh? Hot+sex=you being promoted pookie, you are now the donaldsons elite employes!!!!!!

Baby, show me where it hurts...

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: you never intended on becoming a "celebrity" massage therapist. you just wanted to be a massage therapist, the whole celebrity thing just sort of happened, you blame cali for that. but the novelty of your job wore off long ago, you hardly blink at the clients on your table nowadays. that is until tashi duncan calls you and absolutely fucks everything up.

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, oral (m!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), p in v, fingering (fem!receiving), angst? maybe? could this be considered angst?, slight age gap, no tashi duncan erasure because i don't stand for that, cheating but not really cause tashi knows, she always knows, she is an all seeing eye, and she kind of orchestrates it, SOOOOO much plot, like way too much i'm sorry, art being sad and tired, art also being kinda pathetic a little bit, malpractice? unprofessional massages, no use of y/n.

word count: 10k+ (someone stop me....pls still read this lmao)

authors note: this ask was blessedly placed in my inbox and it was all i’ve thought about since. this is my first big fic since my mike schmidt days so hopefully i'm not rusty! i've seen this damn cursed hell movie ten times, so hopefully i do it justice. i'm also still struggling sooo much with art and tashi as characters so please bear with me if they aren't movie accurate i'm trying my best. okay. thank you. hope you love it! mwah xoxo.

You don't get starstruck often, not anymore at least. The clients that find their way onto your table are just that in your eyes, clients. You don't see them as big time "celebrities”. Just men and women who need your professional help.

That being said, you almost dropped your phone the first time the Tashi Duncan called you.

It was a normal work day for you, spent buried in paperwork and training a new secretary. You're folding the steam room towels on your lunch break when your phone rings. No caller ID, you answer it anyways.

"Hello, you've reached Lush Retreat Med Spa," you rattle off into your phone, placing it between your ear and shoulder to continue folding. "How can we help you?"

"This is Tashi Duncan calling for Art Donaldson, we've heard great things about you and were hoping to schedule an appointment."

The towel drops from your hands, your mouth falling open in shock. You reach up to tightly grip your phone, not wanting to embarrass yourself by dropping your phone with Tashi fucking Duncan on the end of the line.

Of course you know who she is, but doesn't everyone? The tennis prodigy from Stanford who was on top of the world when a tragic knee injury stole everything from her in a single second. You absolutely idolized her when you were in high school and playing tennis competitively. You watched all the recorded matches you could get your hands on, wore your DUNCANATOR shirts to practice constantly, only bought the tennis rackets she used. You had her fucking posters plastered on the walls of your old bedroom for Christ's sake.

That was until you, ironically, shattered your wrist in a car accident and had to hang up the racket and pleated skirts forever. Just like her.

Now, Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson are California royalty. An unfairly beautiful couple living what seems to be the dream. You'd never kept up much with Art's career like you did Tashi's, but you follow them both on Instagram and you see his face on billboards all over the city almost daily so you can assume it was fruitful. It may help him that he's extremely easy on the eyes, or "super fucking hot!" in your coworkers words.

"Hello?" Her voice ringing out from the tiny speaker ripped you out of your thoughts and back into reality.

"Y-yes, sorry," you cringe internally at yourself, stuttering over your words like a loser. You force yourself to sound professional when you speak again, "We'd love to help you any way we can. Do you have a certain time and date in mind already?"

"We're not home right now, we were thinking next Thursday. Around four." There's no question mark on the end of her sentence, you know that she isn't asking you, she's telling you. You don't even bother to check the schedule before you're answering.

"We will be free that day. I'll go ahead and put you in our system." you rush over to the front desk computer and open the calendar, thankfully you are actually free for Thursday. "I'm assuming you know our location?" you ask as you type in the appointment details, ignoring how your fingers shake ever so slightly as you type Tashi into the slot.

"Actually," Tashi's voice has a different tone to it when she speaks again, it’s something you can’t quite place, your fingers slow down slightly as you listen, "we wanted to make this a home visit."

You stop typing completely, brows furrowed in confusion as you stare at your computer screen. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Donaldson but we don't do at home appointments…per our policy." you reply meekly, almost surprised that you're denying her.

"Duncan, actually,” she corrects you nonchalantly, you don’t have time to unpack that before she’s speaking again. “We did read that on your website, but we'd hope you might make an exception. You wouldn't need to bring much. We have our own table." Her tone isn't harsh or impolite, just firm and certain, like she knows you'll give in to her.

You do.

"Well," you bite your lip as you wrestle internally with yourself, torn between what you want to do and what you should do. "Okay, we can do that for you."

"Great. I'll send you the address. See you then." She hangs up without saying goodbye.

You plant your phone next to you and stare at the filled out appointment slot taking up your computer screen, processing what just happened. You're going to Tashi Duncan's house. To give her hot pro-tennis player husband a massage. In their house.

"What the fuck."

SIX DAYS LATER...

The walk up to The Donaldson's huge mansion on a mountain has your stomach turning in on itself. All week you were a ball of nervous energy just floating around your office, trying to find anything to distract you from your upcoming appointment. Now that it's here, you feel you may have bitten off more than you could chew.

You hardly got any sleep last night, tossing and turning in your bed for hours before you gave up, barging into your building's gym to try and sweat your nerves out. When that didn't work you just retreated back to your apartment and got ready.

You try not to think about why it took you so long to get ready, longer than most work mornings. Taking more time in the shower, more time doing your hair, more time doing your makeup.

You even choose an outfit you'd hardly ever wear in front of regular clientele. A matching white polo set, a skirt in place of shorts. You tell yourself that you just want to look good, who wants to look like a mess in front of Tashi Duncan?

Your hands white-knuckle the steering wheel of your car on the drive over. You couldn’t even play any music, the noise in your head already too loud as it was, only cranking up the AC and silently following the crisp voice of your GPS reading off the directions Tashi sent you.

The closer you get to the door the more you want to turn and run down the insanely long driveway, get back in your car and haul ass home without ever looking back.

You don't because you're a professional, or at least that's what you keep telling yourself.

Your hand shakes as you ring their doorbell, hearing it echo back at you from the inside. You only wait a few seconds before the large door swings open and there she is.

Tashi Duncan is every bit as beautiful in person as she is splashed across the pages of magazines and blown up twenty feet on billboards. She looks so effortlessly classy in her Ralph Lauren sweater and flowy black dress pants.

Your name falls from her lips, and all the blood rushes to your ears. Her silky voice wraps around each syllable with an enticing heat that makes you weak in the knees. You feel sixteen years old all over again, standing at the woman who basically molded you into who you are today. It's a dizzying sensation, the rush of nostalgia and emotions flooding in like an avalanche. The memories you have locked away in your brain of the countless late night practices, the hundreds of hours spent on the court, the trophies and ribbons littering your moms basement collecting dust, the refusal to give up and pushing your body past its own limits because you wanted to be just like her. You wanted to be Tashi Duncan, and when you catch yourself nervously rubbing your thumb over the scar spanning your right wrist, you guess in some sick twisted way that you kind of are.

"So glad you could make it," she greets breezily, stepping to the side to let you in. “We were worried you’d get lost.”

The house is, of course, beautiful on the inside. Tall ceilings, big fireplace, a beautiful staircase leading to the second floor. There’s toys strewn messily along the living room floor, the TV mounted on the wall is paused on ESPN.

You hope you don’t look as crazy as you feel taking in the space, taking in the fact that Tashi is standing right in front of you. 

“No, the directions were very helpful,” your voice only slightly wavers as you respond, you count that as a win, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Donalds–uh–Duncan.” You cringe at your fumble, but try to power through by extending Tashi your hand.

She watches you for a second, sharp eyes flicking over your body quickly like she’s inspecting you. It makes your cheeks feel warm as you struggle to not squirm underneath her gaze. Finally, she takes your hand in hers and gives it a firm shake. You ignore the way her touch makes your palm burn.

“Art should already be in the massage room, it’s in the pool house,” Tashi says, gesturing to the huge windows in the living room showing off a lavish underground pool with a smaller building situated next to it, “I have to take a phone call here in a few minutes so I trust you’ll find your way there.”

You nod slowly, adjusting the strap of your supply bag on your shoulder. Tashi doesn't even pause walking further into the house as she speaks to you, heels clicking with each step as she makes her way to the large staircase in the middle of the room. There’s still no question marks tacked on to the end of her sentences, just like over the phone. 

“It’s just through that door, first room on the left. I told him to leave the door open for you.” She continues, reaching the stairs and making her way up slowly. She tosses her head over her shoulder to make eye contact with you again. “He’s been complaining about his shoulder acting up. The right one, it’s what needs the most attention. He serves with that arm, we need it at a hundred.” she fires off casually, like she’s recited this information before.

You go to speak but her phone ringing cuts you off, echoing off the house's crisp white walls. “Thank you for coming to see us, it was nice meeting you.” Tashi says politely, giving you one final once over before she’s answering her phone and disappearing up the stairs.

“It was nice meeting you too…” you trail off quietly, fully caught off guard by whatever the hell that was. Out of every single time you’d fantasized about what meeting Tashi Duncan would be like, none of them were quite like this. At least it’s over you figure, and you even managed to not make a complete fool of yourself.

You hold onto that tiny win as you walk through the living room doors and outside, making your way to the pool house like Tashi instructed. The entrance is unlocked as you step inside, thankfully you spot the cracked door a little ways in front of you. 

The sound of your footsteps are loud as you make your way down the short hallway, tennis shoes making small thump sounds against the concrete floor. You pause for just a second outside the cracked door, taking a deep breath before pushing it open and stepping inside. The room is empty, the only things inside are some shelves lined with various essential oils and lotions, and an expensive looking massage table in the center. You muse over the fact that their table looks a little better than the ones in your own spa, no wonder they wanted a home visit.

The room is well lit as you walk around, dim in a way that promotes relaxation. The soft, ambient lighting bathes the room in a gentle, golden glow, complemented by the flicker of aromatic candles placed strategically around the space. You wonder who lit them, Tashi? Or maybe Art? You let out a small laugh at the idea of Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson fawning over the room before you showed up, setting up candles and mood lighting to make it feel nicer, less clinical.

You’re probably just reading too much into it. You always urge clients to ask for anything that will make them feel more comfortable, apparently Art just likes eucalyptus sage candles and mood lighting. It has nothing to do with you. 

Your name being said from somewhere behind you rips you out of your own mind. You whirl around, and find yourself face to face with six time Grand Slam Champion, Tashi Duncan’s super hot husband, Art Donaldson. And he’s only wearing a fucking towel.

“Hello,” he greets with a kind smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “it’s nice to finally meet you, thank you so much for taking the time to come out here.” 

Art is already worlds different from Tashi, or that’s what you’re inferring after spending less than five minutes with each of them. It’s still extremely apparent, Tashi has an almost overpowering presence to her, everything about her commands respect and she knows that. She uses that to her advantage, she likes it like that.

The man standing in front of you is nothing like that. The Art Donaldson in front of you doesn’t seem like some big shot tennis player with more impressive stats than you could wrap your head around. You’ve come to know that a few pro-sports guys like to swing their dicks around, bragging about their booming careers non-stop during a session. Yet everything about Art is unassuming as he stands in the doorway like he’s trying to make himself look smaller. 

“Hi, Mr. Donaldson,” you’re not sure if it's appropriate to offer a man wearing a towel dangerously low on his hips your hand, you decide against it. “It’s no trouble really, I’m happy to help.”

“Please, call me Art.” The tone of his voice makes you want to shiver, smooth and warm like honey. 

You try your best not to stare, but it’s so hard to ignore the toned expanse of Art’s body when it’s right there. He’s all broad shoulders, firm pecs, sculpted legs, with a cut Adonis belt. He’s like a marble statue, made in Michelangelo's perfect image.

Your eyes trail back up his body, lingering on his chest before rising up to his face. You’re mortified to see he’s staring right back at you, effectively catching you in the act. Your cheeks burn as you tear your gaze away, looking at anything and everything other than him. In your panic, you don’t notice the way his eyes rake over you in the same way.

“Okay, Art,” you say a little breathlessly, tightening your grip on the strap of your bag. “It’s nice to meet you. Mrs. Duncan let me know about your major problem areas, I’ll be sure to focus on them.” Involuntarily bringing up Tashi has your stomach clenching up in guilt, you just got done ogling her husband's body. You hope he takes the silent cue you're giving him to get on the damn table so you can start the massage and get the hell out of here.

Art nods silently, walking over to the table and moving to lie down on his stomach. You busy yourself with prepping your oils, taking them out of your bag and setting them on a small side table next to the massage bed uncapped for easy access. You can’t help but sneak glances at the rippling muscle of Art’s back as he shifts, his skin looks soft and is littered with freckles. You don’t miss the hiss he lets out when he lays his weight on his shoulder.

You usually don’t speak much during appointments, only engaging in conversation when your client initiates it, but you feel the need to fill the silence between you and Art. The quiet atmosphere makes everything seem far too intimate, and sure on some level it always is, but this feels different.

“How’d you hurt it? Your shoulder. If you don’t mind me asking.” you ask once he’s settled, placing your fingertips to the middle of his right shoulder, feeling around for any tension. Art tenses slightly at your touch, taking a sharp breath. You guess you should have warned him, you open your mouth to apologize but he lets out a small breath and relaxes onto the table again.

Art sighs, his voice tinged with weariness. "It was, uh, during a match. I overextended trying to return a serve. Haven't been able to move it properly since."

You nod, hands starting to move in slow, deliberate circles across the muscle. “That sounds about right. Most people don’t realize how brutal tennis is to the body, injuries are common,” you pointedly try to ignore the flashbacks of your wrist failing to swing a racket properly after you healed from your accident, flashbacks of watching as the bone pierced through your skin. “Sounds like you might need to take it easy for a while.” you continue, trying to keep the conversation light.

Art chuckled, though it was devoid of real humor. "Yeah, I’ve been playing a lot lately. Guess I pushed myself too hard." He winces slightly as you work on a particularly tight knot, shoulder tensing under your hands. 

You pause, your hands stilling momentarily as you catch the underlying tension in Art's voice. "The season’s almost over, maybe it's time to give yourself a break, take some time to rest and recuperate." you remark softly, your tone gentle yet concerned.

Art's gaze flickers to yours, a flicker of vulnerability shining through. "I wish I could," he admits, his voice heavy, "But it's hard to step away, especially when it feels like it's all I have that’s still keeping everything together."

Your heart clenches at the raw honesty in his words. He’s completely silent afterwards, you wonder if he’s regretting telling you something like that, like maybe it just fell out of his mouth before he could stop it. Without a word, you continue to knead away the tension in his muscles, offering a silent gesture of support.

As you continue to work, hands skillfully moving over Art’s shoulder, you can’t help but notice the weariness in Art's demeanor. His presence feels heavy, almost broken, as if the physical pain was just a small part of what he was carrying. You feel a pang of sympathy for him. You can feel the weight of struggles pressing down on him, the way his shoulders sag slightly even under your careful touch.

“I can feel the tension here," you say gently, applying a little more pressure,  "Just try to relax.” 

With each knead and press, you remind yourself of your role. You’re here to help him heal, and that was all that mattered. But as your hands move over his warm skin, you can’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t what you had anticipated, something that made your heart race with both excitement and anxiety. You were so worried about meeting Tashi you completely forgot about Art. It’s a different story now as your hands explore the smooth planes of his back to the steady sound of his breathing.

"You're really good at this," Art says after a while, his voice a bit lighter. 

You smile, a genuine one, the first real smile you’ve had since you got here. “Thanks. I’d hope so after all this time.”

Art lets out a small chuckle muffled by the table, it makes your stomach flutter. “How did you get into this? Massage therapy seems interesting.”

You laugh but it’s a bitter sound, moving your hands down to focus lower on Art’s shoulder. You try not to think about your tennis career, even after all this time you struggle with the memories despite all the good it brought you. “That’s a long story.” you mutter under your breath, even to your own ears you sound resentful.

“I’ve got time.” It’s a simple reply, but it’s so honest. Like Art’s genuinely interested in you, in getting to know you. It makes you feel dizzy.

“I, um,” you worry your lip between your teeth, working your hands harder over Art’s back. “I actually used to play tennis. When I was in high school.”

Art makes an interested noise, shifting under your hands as he moves his head to lay on the side of the table so he could look up at you. “No shit?” he looks more shocked than anything. 

You nod, humming in confirmation as you finally move onto his other shoulder. “Yup, I was pretty serious about it back then, until I got injured.” You don’t meet Art’s gaze, but you can see how his face falls in your peripheral vision. You kind of want to laugh at how ironic this moment is, you wonder if Art’s thinking about Tashi’s knee. You know he was at the match, you’ve seen the blurry footage of Tashi Duncan’s fall from grace, watched Art vault over the net to get to her.

“That’s awful. I’m sorry.” He sounds like he means it.

“It’s okay, wasn't like it was my fault or anything,” you say, finally meeting his eyes with a rueful smile and raising your right wrist to show him your scar. “I got hit by a drunk driver coming home late from practice one night. Nasty fracture, bone went straight through.” You hope your voice is coming out as nonchalant as you’re trying to make it sound.

Art's eyes widen in disbelief as he takes in your scar, a mixture of shock and sympathy evident on his face. "Wow, that's...terrible," he murmurs, his voice tinged with compassion.

You shrug, the memories still vivid despite the passage of time. "It was tough, it was awful actually. All the physical therapy in the world couldn’t get a racket back in my hand,” you confess softly, fingers tracing the outline of the scar absentmindedly again. “But it also forced me to reevaluate things, in a way. It made me realize that life doesn't always go according to plan.” You see Tashi’s knee buckling in your mind's eye. “When I finally realized that I could take all the hate and all the anger I was feeling and channel it into something good, something like massage therapy, I never looked back."

You immediately regret over-sharing, feeling silly telling Art your sob story, but when you meet his eye again, he has an odd look on his face. His expression is soft as he looks up at you through long lashes, understanding and empathy swimming in the blue of his eyes.

"Well, silver linings, huh?" he says after a few seconds, there’s traces of a smile playing on his lips. You let out a small laugh, nodding your head slightly.

"Yeah," you agree, a small smile on your lips. "Silver linings." 

As the conversation fades into a comfortable silence, you and Art find yourselves locked in a silent exchange, your eyes meeting and holding a depth of something you can’t quite pick up on. In that moment, the world around you seems to blur, leaving only the two of you suspended in a shared moment of vulnerability. There's a subtle shift in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that has formed between you, as if you've uncovered a piece of each other.

The shrill ringing of your phone’s alarm pierces through the moment, both you and Art jump at the sudden sound. It’s like a cold bucket of water pouring over your head, washing away whatever just happened between the two of you. The session’s over, you’re done. 

“Okay,” you say a little too loudly, taking your hands off Art's back like his skin could burn you any second. “Looks like we’re all done.” You try to smile but it feels fake, forced, so you turn your back to Art and start capping your oils to shove them back in your bag.

Art’s voice breaks the silence as you pack up, sounding a little less confident than it did earlier. “Uh, my neck has been bothering me too, recently,” he says offhandedly as he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the table. “I think I may have slept on it wrong.”

You stop what you’re doing, turning to face Art again, silently cursing him for not just letting you leave. “Do you want me to take a look before I go?” You pray he says no. You should know it won’t be that easy, not with your shit luck.

“If you don’t mind?” His tone is so hopeful and his eyes are so big that your feet are walking towards him before your mind can catch up. 

“Not at all,” you reply, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. You step closer, practically between his slightly spread legs, feeling the warmth of his skin even before you touch him. Your fingers brush against his neck, and he shivers slightly, the muscles tight and knotted beneath your touch.

"Just relax," you murmur, trying to maintain any shred of professional demeanor. As you work, you can't help but notice the way his breath hitches, the tension in his body melting away under your skilled hands. The room feels smaller, the air heavier with each passing second.

He closes his eyes, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "That feels amazing," he whispers, and you swallow hard, trying to focus solely on the task at hand. As you work, the intimacy of the moment isn't lost on you, and you can't help but wonder if he feels it too.

Minutes tick by like hours as you work the tense muscle of Art’s neck. You're acutely aware of every sigh, every shift in his body, every subtle reaction to your touch. You finally pull away when you think it’s been enough time, eager to get out of this damn house before you do something you’ll regret.

You didn’t notice how close you really were to Art until you pulled back only to be met with his face mere inches away from yours. Startled by the sudden proximity, you freeze, caught off guard by the intensity of Art's gaze. His eyes, dark and searching, seem to hold a silent question, a silent invitation.

Now, Art’s body is one thing, it’s objectively perfect. He’s a professional athlete, of course it’s perfect. It has to be perfect. It’s his damn face that gets you.

He’s beautiful, beyond beautiful. He looks like he should be splayed across canvas hanging in the Louvre. The dim lighting in the room illuminates his face beautifully, his golden hair haloing around his head makes him look ethereal. Each of his features look as if they were handcrafted by a master sculptor, each contour and line a testament to perfection. His chiseled jawline speaks of strength and determination, while his lips, soft and inviting, seem to beckon you closer with every breath. His eyes are deep pools of ocean blue, though this close you can see a small splash of brown in his left eye you didn’t notice before, swirling with emotions that stir something deep within you. 

Something more shocking than Art’s beauty, is how fucking tired he looks. Lines of exhaustion are etched along his face, subtle but undeniable. The weariness in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent plea for respite from the relentless demands of tennis. And yet, even amidst the exhaustion, there's a flicker of longing. He’s staring at you like he needs you, eyes wide and yearning. His chest rising and failing a little more harshly than it did before, each exhale coming out ragged and sharp.

“Art…” you whisper, heart threatening to beat out of your chest. He’s so warm, the heat emitting off of him makes you want to lean into it. You want to crawl on top of his powerful thighs and bury your face in his chest and never leave. Your hands flex where they’re draped over Art’s neck.

It happens in slow motion, Art’s hand trails up the skin of your thigh as your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and it’s like you’ve been electrocuted. You’re rearing back with a sharp breath, dropping your hands from his neck and taking a couple steps back. 

“It was really nice to- uh to meet you, Art.” you say frantically, swinging your bag firmly over your shoulder and rushing to the door. Art’s still sitting on the table, silently watching you panic. He doesn’t try to stop you. “I hope your shoulder feels better,” is all you say before bursting out the door and speed walking out of the pool house. 

Your heart's racing as you walk through the backyard, hands shaking even through the death grip you have on the strap of your bag. What the hell was that? What the hell was that? Did Art Donaldson just make a pass at you? You must be imagining things. 

The thought rattles around in your mind, refusing to be dismissed. His words, his tone—they seemed to linger in the air, haunting you with their implications. The way he touched you, like he couldn’t help himself. But no, it couldn't be. He was married to Tashi, and besides, he was just being polite, right? You try to convince yourself of that as you make your way back to the house.

As you walk inside, still slightly shaken up, Tashi’s the first thing you see. She’s sitting in the living room, laptop open on the coffee table in front of her. 

“Hey,” she says, sitting up straighter on the coach, “how was it?”

You swallow, urging yourself to calm down. “It was great, he should be seeing some improvement over the next few days.”

Tashi nods her head, seemingly pleased though it doesn’t show on her face. “Could this be a weekly thing, these appointments. He could really use them.” 

No question marks. Motherfucker.

You flounder, stomach dropping. “Weekly? As in every Thursday?”

Tashi’s brow raises, eyes looking over you inquisitively. “Yes, preferably all home visits.”She stands from the couch, taking a couple steps towards you. “We read on your website you take permanent clients, is that not the case anymore.”

You shake your head, eyes wide as they follow her while she walks. “N-no, Mrs. Duncan we do. We could pencil you in if you’re willing to pay monthly for the time slot. Would you like to talk to some of my other employees to work out a rotating schedule?”

Tashi stops a few feet away from you, hands in her pockets. “Actually, we were hoping you’d be the one coming down. The only one.” You blink, her words slam over you like a ton of bricks. Just you, in a room with a half-naked Art. Every single Thursday. That can’t happen, not after what just went down between the two of you.

You can practically hear the warning bells blaring in your mind, urging you to refuse, to put an end to this before it spirals out of control. Yet, there's another voice, quieter but no less insistent, whispering seductive promises of what could be if you were to stay.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you grapple with the conflicting desires warring within you. Tashi's expectant gaze weighs heavily on you, waiting for your response, and you know that whatever decision you make will irrevocably alter the course of things between you and Art. With a shaky breath, you steel yourself, the weight of your choice settling like a stone in your stomach.

"I...I'll do it," you finally say, the words leaving your lips before you can stop them. "I'll make sure to pencil you in for weekly sessions, Mrs. Duncan."

Tashi's lips curve up slightly, satisfied, but beneath the surface you can sense the tension thrumming through the air. You've made your choice, for better or for worse, and now you can only hope that it won't lead to the downfall of everything you've worked so hard to build.

“Wonderful,” she says, gesturing for you to follow her to the front door. You trail behind her like a loyal pet, silently allowing her to drag you wherever she pleases. “Thank you again for coming out, and please,” she pauses with her hand on the doorknob, turning to meet your eye, “call me Tashi.”

"Thank you, Tashi," you murmur softly, the weight of her name feeling foreign on your tongue when you’re actually saying it to her for the first time. "I'll make sure to arrange everything at the office."

Tashi's smile widens, though there's a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. "I look forward to seeing you, then," she says, her tone laced with a hint of anticipation. "And please, if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to reach out."

With a final nod, Tashi opens the front door, the outside world beckoning beyond its threshold. You take a hesitant step forward, the weight of your decision pressing down on your shoulders like a heavy burden. As you step out into the cool evening air, you can't shake the feeling that you've just crossed a line from which there may be no turning back. But for now, all you can do is steel your nerves and hope that you haven't made a huge mistake.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

Your sessions with Art continue on. The guilt settling deep in your stomach each time you set foot in the Donaldson/Duncan house also continues. It worsens each time the two of you are alone in that damned massage room. Technically you’ve done nothing wrong, but you know deep in the back of your mind that what you’re doing isn’t normal. Each meeting is a strange mixture of tension and familiarity. When you arrive, Tashi always greets you warmly, her trust in you unwavering. It feels like a dagger each time, twisting deeper and deeper into your conscience. 

Neither of you talk about it, what happened during your session, and Art doesn’t treat you any differently. He still goes out of his way to make polite conversation, asking you about your life, about your business, he even brings up old anecdotes you told him offhandedly. He doesn’t talk about tennis, and he has to know you can keep up in conversation with it since you told him about your history with it, you just assume he doesn’t want to. 

That makes sense, you always think back to the first time he met you. How he brushed off any conversation about his career, how his demeanor changed when he spoke about it. How drained he looked. There was a sadness in his eyes, a weight he carried that seemed to go beyond just a few standard aches and pains. You remember how it struck you then, and it strikes you still, each time you see him.

His shoulder is getting better, you can tell. He can lay on it, or raise it above his head, without wincing. That makes your heart swell, knowing that despite how weird and kind of fucked up everything is, he’s healing. 

The familiar sound of your timer ringing pulls you out of your thoughts. You’re shocked at how fast this appointment flew by, but you could tell as soon as you walked into the massage room to find Art already sitting on the table waiting for you, that something about this session feels different. It’s silly to call it “sensing a bad vibe”, but that’s exactly what you felt entering the room's threshold. 

Art didn’t speak much as you worked, just laying on the table silently after saying hello and asking you about your week. The silence is definitely odd, Art’s not a chatterbox by any means, but he usually keeps some form of conversation flowing. After a while, you start to think it might be something you did, like maybe he’s mad at you. It sounds so stupid in your head, like you’re some poor high school girl getting hung up over a fucking guy giving you the silent treatment. The only thing more stupid than that is how much it’s actually affecting you. Art has you over analyzing everything you’ve said or done over the last couple visits, you dread that maybe he just came to his senses after all this time. That he finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in and remembered he has a beautiful wife, and that he doesn’t really want some random massage therapist.

“Alright,” you say softly, stepping away from the table, “All done.” As you turn off the timer and gather your thoughts, you can't shake the feeling that something is off. You force yourself to bury it, Art doesn’t owe you an explanation, he doesn’t owe you anything. You aren’t his.

You glance over at him as he slowly sits up, his expression unreadable. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. You offer a small smile in return, trying to squash all the ugly feelings mixing in your stomach. You turn to busy yourself with packing up, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu.

Art’s voice cuts through the silence, sounding weary. “Are we still pretending it didn’t happen?”

It catches you off guard, making you drop the bottle in your hands back onto the table loudly. Your heart races as you turn back to face him, unsure of how to respond. The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, demanding a response you’re not sure you’re ready to give.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I...I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I was hoping we could just…forget about it.”

Art’s eyes search yours, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. “I don’t think I can,” he confesses, his voice tinged with sadness.

The same feelings from that day rush back in your mind, flooding all your senses. It's as if time folds in on itself, bringing you right back to that moment where everything changed. You feel panic clawing its way up your body, fight or flight response waging a war inside of you.

You chose flight, shoving the last bottle in your bag and making a break for the door. Ready to run just like you did back then, run and come back next week with your tail between your legs desperately trying to forget that this ever happened, again. Art’s voice stops you just as you have your hand on the doorknob.

“Please…” he whispers, he sounds so broken, so vulnerable. “Please, don’t run.”

You don’t know what it is, maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, or the repressed feelings, or your shitty back bone, but whatever it is makes you pause, hand falling off the doorknob to lay limp at your side. You turn back to face him, the raw need in his eyes mirrored by your own emotions. It tugs at your heart, making it impossible to leave. You feel a surge of guilt and hesitation, but the longing in his gaze holds you captive. Slowly, you make your way towards him, taking small slow steps like you could still leave at any minute, but you know you won’t.

You walk until you’re crowding him, standing between his spread legs just like you did all those sessions ago. His eyes are wide, almost disbelieving, like he thought you’d turn around and slam the door on him instead. Which is what you should do, you should walk about that door right now and never step foot in their house again. 

Art whispers your name, his voice a soft caress that sends sparks zapping down your spine. You're close enough to feel his breath fanning over your face, warm and intimate. You inhale, like you’re trying to absorb his words, his essence, his everything. 

His hand takes yours, bringing it up to his chest. He presses it firmly against his pec, right on top of his heart. You can feel the rapid, uneven thumping beneath your palm. His thumb caresses your wrist gently, making goosebumps pebble over your skin.

It’s easy to get lost in Art’s eyes, so you’re shocked to notice something that very quickly grabs your attention. Art’s towel is tented obscenely, hard cock straining against the thick material. You swallow roughly at the sight, feeling the need to touch, to take, to help.

Your knees hit the floor before you fully realize the entire gravity of what you’re doing. You don’t care about any of that anyway, not right now. 

Right now Art Donaldson is swiping his thumb across the scar on your wrist with his big sparkly eyes desperately looking into yours, unashamedly begging for you to touch him. 

Who are you to deny him?

Your hands find the knot of his towel and yank it roughly, ripping it off Art's hips and tossing it aside. His hard cock springs out, slapping up against his stomach enticingly. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, pleased to see he’s perfect all over. 

Art’s cock is long, and thick. He’s big, but in an exciting way, not in an intimidating way. He’s already steadily drooling pre-cum from his soft pink tip, already so hard and you haven’t even touched him yet. You reach up, tracing your finger along the length of him lightly. Art inhales, his eyes fluttering closed as you touch him for the first time. The anticipation in the room is palpable, a heady mix of desire and need that seems to swirl around you both.

You circle your hand around the base of his cock, stroking up and up until your hand bumps into the head, where you start to rub your thumb back and forth gently, spreading the wetness from his pre-cum before sliding your hand back down. Slowly, you lean in, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth, savoring the taste of him as he groans deeply, hands gripping the massage table tightly.

“Shit,” he grits out, casting his gaze to the ceiling, chest already heaving raggedly. 

You slide the warmth of your mouth down the shaft of his cock, moaning at the heady taste of him, skin soft and velvety on your tongue. 

“Fuck, your mouth…” Art whispers above you, his words trailing off into a string of breathy moans. You hum in response, working his cock faster to draw out more of those noises. Hollowing your cheeks, you sink down towards the circle of your fist still holding the base of his cock with wet, slippery slurping sounds. Art’s hand lets go of the table, coming up to cup your cheek in a move way too intimate for what the two of you are doing.

You chance a look up, and your heart skips several beats at what you see. Art’s already staring down at you, his face twisted up in pleasure. His pale cheeks are flushed, brows drawn together tightly, plush bottom lip caught between his teeth. All that is enough to make you feel ten feet tall, but that’s not what makes you pause.

It’s his eyes, the way Art’s looking at you.

The look in his eyes is…worshipful. Reverent. Like you’re a celestial being, a divine grace walking among mortals. Not some girl on her knees for a married man in his house’s private fucking massage room.

Yet the longer you hold his gaze, while still working your mouth over his hard cock, you feel something strange stirring inside you. Art’s eyes holding such a longing reverence so intense, it was starting to elevate you to a pedestal of adoration. Of devotion.

Right now Art’s like the sun, burning so brightly you feel you need to look away before he consumes you, but you don’t.

“Please,” Art begs desperately, voice so soft you barely even hear it. There’s tears welling in his eyes, his red rimmed and so so tired looking eyes. It breaks your heart, how could such a wonderful man be reduced to this?

You pull off Art’s cock, hand still pumping firmly over him. He whines at the loss of your mouth, hips bucking up to chase after the warm heat. His tip bumps over your lips as he moves, trailing a thin line of pre-cum across them.

Without breaking eye contact, you speak.

“You’re so good, Art.” 

It’s those four words whispered against the tip of Art's leaking cock that has him coming with a hitched breath and a soft cry. A few bursts of his warm come land over your parted lips before you take the head of his cock back in your mouth to greedily swallow down the rest. 

"Thank you, fuck, thank you...!" Art grates out as his body trembles above you, hand squeezing yours so hard it borders on painful. You know you’re never coming back from this, but you still  squeeze back as hard as you can all the same.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

Maybe this is just your life now, fucking the husband of the woman you worshiped like a God for years on end. It’s like you can’t stop, like you’re an addict or something. No matter how disgusting and shameful you feel every time you get home from Art’s appointments, you can’t help but give into him. It’s a twisted dance, a cycle of pleasure and regret that you can’t seem to break. One look into his sad, kicked puppy eyes and you crack. You’ve convinced yourself it's just you reveling in the feeling of being truly wanted for the first time. But deep down, you know it’s more than that. It’s the way he makes you feel alive, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in his world.

Art wants you. He needs you. He’s made that more than clear every single visit since you dropped down on your knees for him. The guilt gnaws at you, a constant reminder that you can't escape. Yet, every time you see him, every time he reaches out to you with that desperate need in his eyes, you find yourself powerless to resist. 

You’ve never kissed, not on the lips. Art’s certainly tried, lips seeking yours out as your oiled up fist slips up and down his cock, as you sit on his lap and grind against him until he’s dirtying his towel. You just turn your head every time, letting him trail kisses along your jaw and neck instead somehow feels less real. Kissing Art will make it feel real, you know it will. So you don’t.

Funnily enough, you think things are going well. Maybe even as well as getting a married man off every Thursday can go. You can see a change in Art, in his behavior and the way he holds himself. He smiles more, he laughs more, it’s like he’s giving more of himself to you each time you meet with him. It’s exhilarating, the way your presence has this effect on him, almost as if you’re breathing new life into him.

Art’s newfound lightness is infectious. You find yourself looking forward to Thursdays with an anticipation that borders on impatience. The way he looks at you, the tender touches that linger just a bit longer, the conversations that flow more freely–it all feels like a dream you’re afraid to wake up from. 

You should have known it was too good to be true, that this little world you created in your head was just the calm before the storm.

Everything about this session was normal to start. It’s a little less intense since Art’s shoulder is doing better, now you have free reign over the rest of his body. Greedy hands free to glide over the planes and planes of muscle you’ve become familiar with.

As you work on his lower back, your hands moving in practiced, soothing motions, you notice a subtle rigidity in his muscles. “Everything alright?” you ask, keeping your tone light.

Art hesitates before answering. “Yeah, just…a lot on my mind.”

You frown, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Art stays quiet, still laying silently on the table face down. You stare at the back of his head, like if you stare hard enough you’ll be able to tell what he’s thinking. Taking his silence as not wanting to talk, you continue on. You don’t want to pressure him to confide with you, not when he already has a wife for that.

As your hands continue to move over Art's tense shoulders, he lets out a deep sigh, breaking the silence. "I need you,”  he whispers softly, his voice filled with an unexpected vulnerability. He shifts on the table, leaning up to look you in the eye; his own eyes are watery, lashes clumped together with unshed tears. “It's not just the massages. I need you in my life, no more of this half-assed bullshit. I need all of you.”

You feel your whole world turn upside down in a single second, the distinct feeling of your heart lurching out of your chest and your stomach dropping to your feet. It’s like the walls of the room start moving in on you, caging you in. It makes your chest feel tight, breath coming out in short jagged rasps. Panic grips you, and you violently rip your hands off Art’s body, stumbling back from the massage table.

 "I-I'm sorry, I can't," you stammer, voice choked with emotion, as you turn to flee from the room, not even bothering to grab your stuff. But before you could escape, Art was right behind you, reaching out to catch your wrist, his grip gentle yet firm. "Please don't go, please," he begs, his eyes pleading with you to stay and talk. You wrench your hand free and run out of the room. 

You think you hear Art calling out your name through all the static rushing through your ears, but you’re not sure, and you don’t look back to check. Your feet pound against the tile as you run out of the pool house feeling like you’re about to throw up, or pass out. Art’s confession is the only thing running through your mind. The only thing that’s still clear through your dizzying panic.

You finally start to breathe again when you burst into the house, leaning back against the cool glass of the door to try and relax before you start to spiral. The silence inside is almost oppressive, the only sound the rapid thudding of your heart in your ears. You close your eyes, willing yourself to calm down, to find some semblance of control.

Your name being said grabs your attention, and you open your eyes to find Tashi at the top of the stairs.

“Is everything okay? I heard the door slam.” Her expression is a mix of concern and confusion as she takes a few steps down. You push yourself off the door, you need to leave as soon as possible, before Tashi can reach you and coerce you into staying. 

“Everything's fine!” Your voice sounds shaky despite your best efforts to calm yourself, you’re basically speed walking to the door. “I just, I got a phone call, and I need to leave. Right now. I’m so sorry.”

You don’t even wait for her to reply before you’re yanking the door open and rushing outside. You hope to God that she doesn’t follow you outside. She doesn’t.

You walk, arms wrapped around yourself tightly in a feeble attempt to stop shaking. There are tears burning your eyes and making everything in front of you blurry. The wind whips your hair around your face, stinging your cheeks as you walk further away from the house.

Each step feels heavier, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to make sense of the storm inside you. The chaotic weather seems to mock your turmoil, perfectly matching the chaos you feel. You struggle to piece together what just happened, the intensity of Art’s words echoing in your mind.

“I need you.”

His voice had been so raw, so vulnerable, and it scared you. You weren’t ready for that kind of emotion, that kind of responsibility, that kind of guilt. The weight of it had sent you running, and now you’re left grappling with the aftermath.

Fuck.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX HOURS LATER…

The drive home was a blur. Rain and wind beating against the windshield nearly the whole time. You’d laugh at how ironic it was, like God’s punishing you with shitty weather, but you’re too busy fighting tears to find the humor in it. 

The dread didn’t set in until you got home, stumbling through the front door on shaky legs until you reached your kitchen where you promptly emptied everything in your stomach into your trash. After you force yourself into the shower to wash the rain, and guilt, off of your skin. You scrub yourself raw, skin pink and sensitive to the touch, like that will somehow erase all that you’ve done.

When you finally step out, the bathroom mirror is fogged, a ghostly reflection staring back at you through the mist. You avoid its gaze, wrapping yourself in a towel and padding through your room to collapse onto your bed. The silence of the house presses in on you, letting your thoughts consume you. 

Art’s words play on a loop inside your head, the look on his face burned to the forefront of your mind. The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, rocking you with its intensity. Running away had seemed like the only option at the time, a knee-jerk reaction to the overwhelming flood of emotions threatening to engulf you. 

You know you didn’t run from Art because you don’t want him, you ran because there’s nothing you want more. In the aftermath, running felt less like a choice and more like an instinctual response to the storm of emotions threatening to consume you whole since the first day you met him. Every step away from Art was a battle against the gravitational pull of your desires, a struggle against the overwhelming urge to surrender to what you both shared.

The truth is crystal clear: you didn't run from Art because you're devoid of feelings for him. You ran precisely because your heart beats in synchrony with his, because the depth of your longing for him is as boundless as the universe itself. 

Your phone pings from the dresser, you ignore it. A second later, it pings again, and again, and again. You furrow your brows, glaring at your nightstand until you reach over and pick up your phone. It’s an unknown number, but you know who it is.

UNKNOWN NUMBER I need to see you.  Please, I can send a car. It's Art. Tashi isn’t home tonight.

Maybe you’re the worst person in the world, but all the fight leaves your body the second you read Art’s texts. You need to see him as much as he needs to see you. Your fingers type out a response before you can think twice.

Art okay.

You send him your address, jumping out of bed to throw on the first things you see. A black SUV was waiting for you as soon as you got downstairs, just as promised. You climbed in after getting confirmation from the driver, and sat in the backseat quietly as you went down the familiar streets. 

As the house comes into view, you can see the front door’s light is still on, waiting for you. You barely wait for the car to stop before you’re opening the car door and stepping outside. The rain immediately drenches you, seeping through your thin sleep clothes. You take two steps before the front door swings open and Art comes rushing out into the rain. He’s only wearing sleep pants, his bare feet smack wetly on the concrete as he runs to you.

Art stops short of you, hesitating, like he doesn’t know whether to touch you or not. You want him to touch you so bad you’re scared it might kill you. The air between you feels charged, every drop of rain a tiny spark. Finally, Art reaches out, his hand trembling as he brushes a soaked strand of hair from your face. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you step closer, collapsing into his arms. The rain continues to fall around you, but at this moment, it’s just the two of you.

"Art," you breathe, your voice trembling. "What are we doing?"

He gazes into your eyes, the raw emotion in his expression mirroring your own. "I don't know," he admits, his hands gently sliding down to your shoulders. "But I can't let you go. Not now." His words hang between you, a fragile thread of honesty that binds you together. You can feel the weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as his words sink in. The honesty in his gaze, the desperation in his touch—it all overwhelms you, leaving you breathless. The only thing you can think of, the only thing that feels right, is kissing him. So you do.

You lean closer, your heart pounding in your chest, and gently cup his face in your hands. His eyes widen for a moment, a flicker of surprise mingling with the intensity of his emotions. Then, as if drawn together by an invisible force, your lips meet his.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative and sweet, a question and an answer all at once. His lips are cold and slightly trembling, matching the fluttering in your chest. You can taste the salt of your tears mingling with the sweetness of the moment. Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours. 

Gradually, the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent and fervent, a silent expression of everything words can’t convey. Art’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his fingers threading through your hair. The heat between you intensifies, both your breath coming faster, mingling as the kiss grows hungrier.

Art’s heartbeat echoes against your chest, you can feel his grip on you getting tighter like he's scared of letting you go. Your hands slide down to his shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscles as you press closer, your bodies molding together. His tongue flicks against your lips, seeking entrance, and you part them eagerly, welcoming him in. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of desperation and passion that makes your head spin. A soft moan escapes your lips, and he responds with a low growl, his hands roaming down your back, pulling you impossibly closer. 

“Art,” you say in between kisses, panting into his slick, open mouth. “I need you to fuck me.”

You can feel Art’s whole body shiver, groaning unabashedly into your mouth like he’s dying for it. “I’ve been waiting weeks for you to finally admit that.”

The two of you tear through the house, all tangled limbs and bumbling steps, you trail water all over the floor. Somewhere in the chaos you drop your phone and keys on the large kitchen island. Art refuses to let go of you to walk properly, blindly leading the way so he can keep kissing you breathless.

Art only stops kissing you when you finally make it to his bedroom, pulling away to wrestle the now soaked sleep pants off his legs. You follow by example and peel your shirt off, skin damp and cold but you could care less, not when Art’s pants are pooling at his ankles and he’s throwing his boxers carelessly over his shoulder.

“God,” he breathes out, shaking his head like he can’t believe you're giving him this, “You’re so beautiful.”

The raw honesty in his tone has your cheeks burning, you cast your gaze to the floor instinctually, feeling too overwhelmed by his charged gaze raking over you. You can hear his feet softly padding against the floor, making his way closer. You watch his feet come to a complete stop in front of you, he takes a hold of your chin gently forcing you to look up at him. 

His eyes, intense and unwavering, lock onto yours. “You���re fucking perfect.”

With a gentle push, Art lowers you onto the bed, his weight a comforting presence above you. He tilts your head back and kisses you breathless, one big hand sliding lower and lower on your stomach till he’s got his hand down the front of your shorts, he groans when his hand makes contact with your bare skin. You’d almost forgotten you hadn’t worn any underwear. His hand so close to your aching center has your breath hitching as you kiss, hips bucking up towards his palm.

You reach for his cock, an angry shade red and leaking steadily, but he catches your wrist before you can touch. You meet his eyes confused, but he just shakes his head.

“It’s been about me the whole time, baby. Let me fix that,” he whispers.

You nod your head wordlessly. You wouldn’t dream of denying him, not right now. He smiles, pecking your lips again before he starts to kiss his way downwards. He explores your body with his mouth with such care it has you shaking under every brush his lips. He kisses all down your jaw and neck, taking extra time on your chest to map out the skin of your breasts with his tongue. He circles your right nipple with the tip of his tongue a few times over before he takes it in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth gently. It has your back arching into his mouth, hands scrambling for a purchase on the silk sheets. One long finger slides around your entrance and dips inside, shallow, then deeper, stretching you slowly, carefully, while his other hand rubs your clit with light, gentle touches. “Is this good?” Art asks quietly, voice tinged slightly with insecurity, like you’re not completely unraveling because of him.

“God yes! Yes – fuck! – Art,” you mewl loudly, hips grinding down roughly onto his finger, desperate to take in more of him. You can feel him smile against your skin, pulling off to blow cool air over your hard nipple and repeating it all over again on your left. His finger slides through the wetness collecting in your hole, spreading it to your throbbing clit. He finally sinks a single finger into the warm, tight, heat of your cunt.

Art pulls away from your chest to kiss his way down your stomach, sliding lower and lower on the huge king size mattress, he doesn’t stop the rhythm of his fingers as he peels your shorts down your legs, tossing them aside. A guttural groan leaves his lips at the sight of your slick cunt parting over his fingers, taking them so well. He pitches forward like he can’t help himself, like his lips are magnetically drawn to your cunt, and presses a small kiss to your clit. 

“Fuck!” You squeal and writhe as his finger fucks in and out of you, hands tangling in his messy hair, cheeks flushing at the sound of your leaking cunt squelching against his wrist with each thrust. Art's lips tighten over your clit, sucking for a brief second before he moves back to start laving his tongue over your cunt in careful, slightly clumsy, strokes. The sounds he's making, almost filthy slurping, accompanied by little moans now and then send small vibrations through you that shock your system, making you fist his hair even tighter. 

Art’s lewd noises fill the air, mixing with your own moans to fill the room. His eyes stay closed for the most part, fluttering open every couple seconds to watch you fall apart. Your thighs shake uncontrollably around his head when you make eye contact, threatening to clamp around his ears and keep him there.

A sob tears from your throat when he adds another finger, then he curls them inside you and pulls back and god, shit, shit, fuck, fuck me, god, Art, please fuck me.

“Fuck me Art please fuck me I need it so bad please-” you ramble nonsensically, pulling at Art’s hair desperately. You can feel the warmth starting to pool in your stomach, but you don’t want to come on his tongue, or on his fingers, you want to come with him inside you.

Art lets you drag him up, the bottom half of his face is slick and shiny, drenched in your wetness. He makes his way up your body quickly, hands gripping tightly to your hips, not hesitating to kiss you even as your juices decorate his lips. You kiss back desperately, tasting yourself on his tongue. The head of his cock bumping against your twitching, empty hole has you whining. 

“Fuck me, Art,” you breath hotly, hips canting up needily. “No condom, I’m on the pill. I want you to come inside me. Please, I need it.”

Slowly, he starts to sink in. Feeding you inch by inch torturously slow. He kisses you the whole time, greedily swallowing the moans flowing out of your mouth as he stretches your cunt on his thick cock. You grab at his shoulders like a lifeline, kissing back with everything you have.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he says through gritted teeth, hands gripping your hips hard enough that you know you’ll be bruised in the morning. “So fucking perfect for me, such a perfect pussy for my cock.”

“Move.” Is all you can manage to squeak out, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders.

Art starts to move, thrusts slow and gentle, like he’s easing you into it. You’re grateful for it, you’ve never taken anyone as big as him. Slowly, his thrusts speed up, cut hips smacking against the fat of your ass a little rougher than before. You revel in it, pushing your ass back greedily for more more more. From this angle, the thick head of his cock drags against your g-spot perfectly every time he plunges back into your dripping cunt.

“Shit! Right there, don’t stop,” you slur breathlessly, feeling the familiar warmth swirling through your stomach as he fucks you.

“I love you.” Art confesses against your lips, his breath hot and erratic. His sweaty forehead pressed to yours as he pounds in and out of you, the motion both relentless and tender. His eyes are wide open now, so blue and so big and so honest as they bore into yours so intensely it’s suffocating.

It’s soon, it’s way too soon. You’ve barely known each other for a couple months, but you can't deny the warmth spreading through your chest, mingling with the heat of the moment, making everything feel both overwhelming and perfect.

Now that you're here, with Art’s cock fitting so perfectly in the wet heat of your cunt, you can’t believe it took you this long. You love Art. You’ve been in love with Art since the first time he spoke to you. Since the first time he touched you like you were the solution to all his problems.

Art must take your stunned silence as rejection, head falling to rest on your shoulder dejectedly, but his hips don’t slow their rhythm. If anything he speeds up, hips thrusting against you desperately.

“Please, please say it back,” he begs, voice thick with emotion, “Say it back, I need to hear you say it. Please,”

You surge up, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you can, ankles locking together across his back. Art couldn’t pull out of you if he wanted to, judging from the long whine he lets out, he doesn’t mind.

“I love you, Art” you whisper back, barely audible over the lewd slap of his hips stinging your ass. Art groans so loudly you can feel it reverberating off the sensitive skin of your neck.

Hips speeding up even faster, Art turns his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss. This kiss is different than any of the other ones you’ve shared tonight, full of so much emotion and unspoken words. You swear you feel your heart grow three sizes, almost full and threatening to break out of your chest.

“I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna fucking come,” he breathes between kisses. You can only moan in response, right on the brink of your own orgasm. His hips start to lose their rhythm as he chases it, fucking into you faster and harder.

Art’s cock gives a final twitch inside you before his hips are stilling and he’s coming with a broken moan, unloading everything he has into you. You’re right behind him, vision whiting out as you come, thighs shaking where they’re draped around his hips. 

Art collapses onto you, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from the high of your orgasm’s. You lay like that for a while, heaving and sweaty wrapped up in each other's arms. You feel something slot into place, something that you’ve been missing.

Art’s soft voice pierces through the afterglow, “Will you hold me?”

“Yes,” you whisper back, circling your arms around his shoulders.

…

When you wake up hours later you’re beyond thirsty, dehydrated from all the crying, and maybe from the sex. Art’s head is laying across your bare chest, tousled hair tickling your jaw and arms snug around your waist. He looks so peaceful, eyes closed with his long lashes fanning over his cheeks. The sound of his steady breathing is almost enough to lull you right back to sleep. You smile softly, running your hands through his hair slowly. Savoring how at peace he looks, so different from the battered, broken man you met.

You slip out of his arms as carefully as possible, not wanting to wake him. Rolling out of bed to search half-assedly for your clothes in the darkness. You can’t find your shirt, only your underwear and shorts. You notice a red shirt strewn over the dresser next to the bed, illuminated by the moonlight pouring through the blinds. You pick it up without thinking, it's soft in your hands, the fabric thin and worn down. You toss it on before padding out of the bedroom.

You get a little lost in your thoughts as you make your way to the kitchen, Art loves you.

The thought has you biting back a giddy smile. Art loves you and you love him too. It sounds fucking crazy, but you know it’s true. Your life is so completely fucked, you don’t know if you care.

Art loves you.

Your smile doesn’t leave your lips as you turn the corner, arms wrapped around yourself tightly, the warmth of Art's affection lingering like a gentle caress.

“He smiles more.”

The soft voice ringing out from your left makes you stop in your tracks. You turn, and there in the kitchen illuminated by the soft glow of the ceiling light, like an angel, is Tashi Duncan. 

Tashi looks at you from her spot across the room with an impassive look on her face, she’s got your keys in one hand, fiddling with them boredly. When you don't reply she speaks again, "He's playing better, won the last three tournaments he was in." She says casually, setting her half full wine glass down on the island.

You don't need to ask her who "he" is.

You're silent for a few more beats as she stares at you expectantly, silently urging you to say something. You rack your brain for a response, caught like a deer in headlights under Tashi's gaze.

"What?" you softly mutter, words cutting through the air weakly.

Tashi sighs in exasperation, like you're a child who doesn't understand the simple question she's asking. She raises her wine glass back to her lips, draining the rest of it before setting it down once more and making her way over to you.

You know you should flee, make a break for the door before she reaches you. Running away from the woman whose husband you’re fucking - whose husband you just got done fucking, and who told you he loved you - while she pays you seems like the easiest thing to do in the moment, but you don't.

You find yourself glued to the spot as Tashi's commanding presence looms over you, until she's all you can see. Until her expensive smelling perfume is all you can breathe, until she's towering over you, miles of soft skin on display in a classy black nightie.

She stares down at you, her face completely unreadable. It feels like hours as her brown eyes burn into yours, your heart must be beating a thousand beats per second.

When Tashi finally moves, it’s her hand you see rising up in your peripheral vision. At first you think she's going to hit you, get you back for sleeping with her husband, for falling in love with her husband. You tense up, bracing for the slap, it would be the least of what you deserve, but it never comes.

Instead, Tashi's hand finds its way up to the side of your face, cupping your cheek gently. You can feel the chilled metal of her wedding band make contact with your warm skin.

You feel like you might pass out staring into the eyes of Tashi Duncan. Everything you ever wanted in high school flashing rapidly right before your eyes.

If Art Donaldson is the sun, Tashi is the moon. Her light draws you in and keeps you looking at her, and never wanting to look away.

Her thumb slides across your bottom lip, the same lip that’s kissed her husband. Ever so slightly, she pushes the tip of her thumb into your parted lips, far enough to touch your bottom teeth. Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening in shock, your pulse is fluttering wildly. You distantly wonder if she can feel it on the inside of her wrist.

“I’m his coach, I need to be hard on him or he fails. I refuse to let him fail,” she says softly, tone casual like she’s not brushing the tip of your tongue with her fingers. “But I’m not stupid, I know what he needs. Someone sweet, someone gentle, someone who looks at him and doesn’t see tennis.”

You couldn’t answer her if you wanted to, but you wouldn’t trust yourself to speak anyway. You feel far away and floaty the longer her fingers sit in your mouth, your brain feels like molasses.

“I can’t give him what he needs. I’m not that kind of person,” Tashi says, eyes roaming your face languidly, like she’s window shopping your features. Her voice is nearly a whisper the next time she speaks, “but you are. You could be that for him.”

Your heart drops, the haze surrounding your brain rips away so violently, like someone took a leaf blower to it. Her words make everything start to fall into place, the at home visits, the “exclusive deal”, the weird ass run-ins you’ve had with her over the weeks. 

This was never about the goddamn massages.

For a few seconds you both stay like that. Standing inches away from each other in the half-lit kitchen of her and Art's house. For a second, you think you can see the tiniest smile playing on her lips before she drops her hand from you completely.

"There’s a car waiting for you outside,” she says, still close enough that you can feel her breath fan over your face, “See you next Thursday."

Tashi turns on her heels and leaves you alone, disappearing down the long hallway leading to her and Art's bedroom. You watch the whole time she goes, until she completely fades into the shadows. Your lip still tingling from her touch.

There’s only one thing on your mind as you incredulously stare down the now empty hall…

These people are so fucking weird.

taglist!

@ebodebo @yuenity @artemis-b-writes

[tayytayy12]

This Love | CL16 x Reader x Alexandra saint mleux

Summary - In which everyone wants to experience the kind of love Charles reader and Alex have for each other.

Warnings - Swearing, that’s it really.

FaceClaim - Taylor Swift

Requested - Yes

Notes - For the purpose of this pretend Alex’s instagram is public

Charles_Leclerc

Liked by - Yourusername, AlexandraSaintMleux and 1,090,565 others

Tagged | @/AlexandraSaintMleux, @/Yourusername

Charles_Leclerc - WE DID IT!!!!! BEST DAY EVER ❤️❤️ This win is everything and more to me, thank you all for your never ending support, Monaco was always a special race, but this made it even better. Of course I’d also like to thank the most supportive, loving and caring girls on the planet. Y/n and Alex, I would not have been up there on that top step without your unwavering love and support, you’re the reasons I do everything, thank you for celebrating with me after. Je t'aime tellement mes angles ❤️

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User1 - FERRARI IS SO BACK

User2 - Stop the three of them are so adorable

User3 - I can’t even manage to pull one girl but Charles gets Y/N AND ALEX ??? They’re both so beautiful omg

Yourusername - We’re both so so so proud of you baby. I love you so so much ❤️❤️

Charles_Leclerc - I love you even more, thank you forever. ❤️❤️

User4 - I NEED THEIR LOVE

User5 - WE ALL DO

AlexandraSaintMleux - We both will never ever stop supporting you. I love you Cha ❤️❤️

Charles_leclerc - I’m beyond grateful for you both, I love you so much more ❤️❤️

User6 - They way he speaks about them both shut the fuck up

User7 - THE CURSE WAS NEVER REAL

Yourusername - You’re welcome for celebrating with you, even though you got drunk and tried to sell me and Alex your watch because you forgot who we were xx

AlexandraSaintMleux - Don’t forget when he said we was coming into him and he got really offended and screamed “IM IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH TWO GORGEOUS GIRLS LEAVE ME ALONE”

Charles_leclerc - The watch thing I can’t defend, don’t even remember it happening, but the other thing I didn’t lie did I?

PierreGasly - Don’t forget when Alex kissed Y/n and he was so offended that he wasn’t included (he was in the bathroom and he didn’t even see it happen, he was just told)

Charles_leclerc - WHY ARE YOU GETTING INVOLVED

AlexandraSaintMleux - How could we ever forget his little pout

Yourusername - I’d be annoyed if I was him too, it was a great kiss

User8 - STFU I NEED THEIR LOVE

Yourusername

Liked by - Charles_leclec, AlexandraSaintMleux and 635,727 others

Tagged | @/AlexandreaSaintMleux, @/Charles_Leclerc

Yourusername - Date night with my loves 💕💕

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User9 - I fear I’m in love with Y/n.

Charles_leclerc - Same

AlexandraSaintMleux - How weird me too

User10 - We’re you guys looking for a fourth? 😶

User11 - So real

User12 - This love is the standard

Yourusername - I agree

User13 - THEYRE SO ADORABLE

User14 - I love them but someone please tell me how they all ended up together?

User15 - It’s a long but adorable story, but the short version is that Alex and Y/n were best friends growing up and eventually they got feelings for each other and got together, but then Y/n’s brother who’s a Ferrari mechanic got them tickets to the GP and somehow they met Charles, it was a long process that they haven’t shared the details of with the public, but eventually they all ended up together. Their soft launch was incredibly long but I think it was worth it.

User16- When they finally revealed it was three of them, I remember how the world stopped

User17 - No one believed it

AlexandraSaintMleux - Had the best night with you my loves 🤍🤍💕💕

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Charles_leclerc - ❤️❤️❤️

Liked by author

AlexandraSaintMluex

Liked by Yourusername, Charles_leclerc and 185,635 others

Tagged | @/Yourusername, @/Charles_leclerc

AlexandraSaintMleux - Happy birthday to one of my favourite people ever, Y/n you’re so loving and kind and gorgeous and my love for you has never ever once wavered in the twenty years I’ve known and cherished. Mine and Charlie love you more than anything, your smile lights up our lives every time we’re lucky enough to see it. I didn’t think it was possible for you to have so much kindness and love until our boy came along and you managed to love him just as much as you do me, and you amaze me for it. I’ve loved you since we was kids and you were my best friend in the whole world, I’ve loved you when we were teens and we got together, and I’ve loved you when Charles joined and completed us forever.

You deserve everything and more my love, we hope you have the best day ever, and we’ll both do our best to make sure you do. We love you forever 🤍🤍🤍🤍

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Charles_leclerc - THOUGHT WE AGREED THAT ID MAKE A BIRTHDAY POST FIRST

AlexandraSaintMleux - YA SNOOZE YA LOSE

Charles_leclerc - God I love you both, happy birthday my gorgeous girl 🤍

Yourusername - I love you so so so so much

Yourusername - God Alex you’re making me cry, I love you so so so much

AlexandraSaintMleux - I love you more, forever

————

[nonuify]

Hey! I think the nsfw headcanons are so hot. Great work baby girl!

joshua headcanons (bf and NSFW like the one you did for seungcheol)? Or just the nsfw if you can't find the time.(I get it)

ᝰ.ᐟ 🌐 — H.JS ; ! boyfriend headcanons

sfw & nsfw is included ! minors do not interact 18+.

📓 ! i think shua is so sweet to you from beginning of your relationship like he would constantly worry about your comfort or anything regarding you.

📓 ! jisoo would get really flustered if you peck or kiss him even after awhile in your relationship he just loves you when you kiss him, it really has him feeling giddy.

📓 ! his love language is totally words of affirmation i think he absolutely loves you when you poor your heart out to him when you tell him how much he’s appreciated, but he also loves giving it to you, shua will always give you little love letters when you go to work, its just canon.

 📓 ! he had a really cute habit of sending you random pics all throughout his day like one of his meals, or him working in the studio or just him singing, he absolutely loves sharing his life with you.

📓 ! he admires your beauty even when your sitting doing nothing he would just bite his eyes into your ethereal figure & face wondering how lucky he got.

📓 ! you guys have matching bracelets or any kind of accessories together its a must to jisoo!!, he will let the world know your his even in little details.

📓 ! you know where in the movies the couples share some earphones while listening to music? yeah that’s you & joshua, sharing music with you is canon.

📓 ! everyweek he’ll take you on dates wether it’s a fancy restaurant or a simple picnic or whatever he will take you & spend time with his special person.

📓 ! with fights, i think he’s really calm about it it’s very seldom he’ll blow up on you even if he does he will spend the whole days after apologizing for it, cuz he’s just a sweetie :(

📓 ! with him you guys are like a black cat & golden retriever duo, so opposite yet so right.

📓 ! joshua is very smart at reading you whenever your sad about something, i think he gets worried so much abt you so that’s why!

📓 ! he’s such a hopeless romantic he will deliver flowers to you so much, with secret love letters wether it be passionate or intimate.

📓 ! he loves calling you angel, it just suits you so much & you call him shua or shushu.

📓 ! joshua is pretty chill, but when he thinks you e gone too far playing your little tricks he will get jealous, and his jealousy isn’t easy.

! 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ nsfw starting from this point.

📓 ¡ oh he’s such a tit man, he will suck, bite & kiss your tits till their colors turn & till your a sensitive mess.

📓 ¡ yeah he’s a sweetheart but in bed he’s so mean, like i stand by the meanie joshua committee.

📓 ¡ he looves to spit into your little cunt or mouth letting you swallow it like a good girl, then making you thank him.

📓 ¡ he fucks his cock into your panties till they’re soiled & slippery with his milky white cum, he’ll send you the pic of it even.

📓 ¡ joshua will be mean but he praises you never ever is gonna neglect your pretty little pussy & how it’s making him feel he’ll coo you so much but don’t get me wrong if you’re a brat he will degrade you till your a cock-drunk mess.

📓 ¡ oh he’s a pussy-slapper, he will slap your little cunt till you spew out cum out of your abused hole & your a crying mess.

📓 ¡ shua loooves when you cockwarm him with your mouth, he’ll let you there for hours till he’s satisfied enough to replaced with your wet-needy cunt.

📓 ¡ when he’s feeling it he’ll let you top him but both of you at the end of the day he’ll pound you into next week.

📓 ¡ I think he has a big big thing for you riding his thigh till his pants are soaked by your juices or even cum, he’ll look at you fucked out face & moan.

📓 ¡ shua has a big fucking breeding kink I can’t put my finger on it but seeing his cum coming out of your hole, makes him all hard again he absolutely loves the thought of you bearing his children.

📓 ¡ but shua has his passionate love-making side, he’ll make you cry from how he’s putting in so much love in you like it’s absolutely heart-warming how he does it, the I love yous & moans amusing ears.

📓 ¡ his fav position is missionary totally he loves admiring your face, holding you hands while he pumps into you.

! 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ thank you for reading >ᴗ< !! i hope you enjoy this bby!!!

[greynatomy]

so american

mapi león x reader

pretend that spain drives on the left side of the road. some of the italicized dialogue is supposed to be the character speaking spanish

happy two years of writing woso fics to me!! thank you for reading!

———

Who knew going to Barcelona on a very last minute decision was the best choice you have ever made?

—

Coming off of an end of your United States tour high, you wanted to take some time for yourself after spending months with thousands of people. You’ve traveled the world doing these shows, but never had the time to enjoy these places. 

Touching down in Barcelona, you picked up your rental and made your way to your home for the next couple of weeks.

The first few days were nothing exciting. The beaches were beautiful, same with all the structures. You were very relaxed.

After a week of staying cooped up in your house, you thought it was time to see what Spain has to offer and you were not disappointed at all. You were a tourist and went to all the tourist spots, camera hanging around your neck. You were having the time of your life.

Wanting to end the day on a high, you saw a club you wanted to go to. Seeing there was a waitlist, you had your assistant call and hopefully get you on the list for tonight. 

Fortunately, she was able to.

Making your way to the bar, you had to squeeze through the people a bit.

“Vodka cran please!” 

Getting a nod, you turn away from the bar, scanning the whole place. There was a bit of everything, make-outs, shotguns, dancing, all on their own little groups, no one left behind. You felt like a bit of an outcast, but not for long.

“Hola, bebé.”

Turning to your left, you’re met with an arm littered with tattoos and a neck, another tattoo right on the center.

“Looks can be deceiving. Hmm.” 

“Like what you see?”

“Maybe.” You shrug, grabbing the drink placed in front of you. Looking up, you make eye contact, keeping it as you take a sip through your straw.

“You understand?” She was taken aback that you understood her. You shrug again, playing the mysterious card. She smirks at you, taking you by surprise when she drags you onto the dance floor.

The whole night was a blur, the next thing you remember is waking up to the sun shining through the curtains, the smell of something cooking in the air.

Making your way out of the unfamiliar room, still dressed in the clothes from your night out, seeing a person with a familiar arm littered with tattoos by the stove.

“Hola.”

Turning around, Mapi is met with your figure. “Ah, bebé! I made some breakfasts. Come sit.” You sat down awkwardly, not remembering much that happened after leaving the club. Mapi, seeing the look on your face, speaks up, “We didn’t sleep together.”

She thought that was the reason you looked uncomfortable, but that wasn’t the case.

“That’s a shame.” Her eyes almost popped out of their socket. “I’m just uncomfortable with wearing the same clothes from last night.”

“Oh!” She gets up, grabbing your arm and pulling you back into a different room. “Choose anything you’d like and the shower is over there if you want. I’ll leave you to it.”

You noticed how much clothes Mapi owned, excited to ‘borrow’ a few. After a very quick shower, the weather being a bit chilly, you grab the hoodie hanging off the back of a chair and put it on, walking out of the room.

Hearing footsteps coming closer behind her, Mapi turns but freezes at the sight of you. Her clothes pretty much almost swallows you whole.

“Bonita.” Mapi said softly to herself, not intending for you to hear. 

“You said to pick anything.” You shrug, going over to sit next to her.

There was a bit of an awkward silence that filled the room.

“I hope you don’t mind that I brought you to my home.”

“Oh! No, not at all. I’m kinda glad you did.”

The awkwardness went away pretty quickly, talking like you’ve both known each other for a while. She drove you to all her favorite spots, bringing you to her favorite restaurants. before you both know it, it was time for you to go home.

Spending the past couple of weeks with Mapi was something you would never regret. You went to a couple of games incognito, she spent some days at your place, it was like you were both in your own little bubble, not wanting it it be popped.

It’s been two months since you got back home. You and Mapi haven’t lost contact, you’re still very much obsessed with her.

You just put on some comfy clothes after getting out of the shower when your doorbell rang. ‘Who the hell rings a doorbell an hour before midnight?’ you thought. Looking through the peephole, you couldn’t believe it.

Throwing the door open, you launch yourself into their arms, holding them tight.

“What are you doing here?” You mumble, voice muffled into her neck.

“It’s a surprise and you’re surprised.”

She was staying for two weeks, still recovering from an injury. You’ve gone back and created your little bubble and loved every second of it.

You’re driving to your destination, wanting to take a little trip.

“You’re so pretty.” Mapi mentioned, a hand resting on your thigh.

“What?”

“Wearing my clothes.”

Heat rises up to your cheeks, not able to stop how flustered you are. She sat in the passenger seat, feet propped up on the dash. It almost felt like you were part of a romance film.

It was a few days later, Mapi had gone back to Spain and you were hanging out at your house with a couple of people. There were games, food and drinks. You were a bit drunk and when you were drunk, you get talkative and giggly, even texting Mapi.

—

—

“Did- did you know that Ma-Mapi plays soccer. Wait, no, foot bowl.”

You were hanging off of your friend as she tries to get you in bed.”

“Yes I do.”

“Oh! This is Mapi’s. She told me I can keep it.” You were now burying your face into a hoodie, taking deep breaths in. “Doesn’t smell like her anymore though.” You pouted, tears edging to fall out of your eyes.

“Okay! How about you go to sleep and you can call Mapi when you wake up?”

You were already out cold when she drapes the blanket over you. Walking back downstairs, she’s met by the rest of the group.

“How was she?”

“She’s out like a light and guess what?”

“What?”

“Talking about Mapi again.”

“Of course.”

—

Two weeks into the international leg of your tour, you’ve done something that only a few people knew. Having just released an album earlier this year, another song wouldn’t be expected so soon, but here you are on stage, talking to the audience.

“Okay. So as you all know, this tour is all about me spilling everything to you guys.” The whole room breaks out in cheers. “And since I am already spilling everything, I might as well spill some more!”

“As none of you know,” Everyone laughs. “This city of Barcelona has become one of my favorite places that I have ever visited because… I might’ve met someone here.” The crowd cheers. “And they may or may not be in the audience tonight.” The crowd cheers even louder. “Anyway, this was the easiest song I have ever written because, well you’ll know why once you hear it.”

In the crowd, Mapi was with the whole team of Barça, surprised with the little soft launch you did introducing a new song. You’ve both talked about possibly going public soon, but didn’t realize that you were going to do it at your concert in front of all your fans.

You grab your guitar from one of the stage hands, stepping in front of your microphone, grabbing it once the band starts to play.

Drivin' on the right-side road She says I'm pretty wearin' her clothes And she's got hands that make Hell seem cold Feet on the dashboard, she's like a poem I wish I wrote I wish I wrote

Mapi became speechless. Did you really write a song about her? Are you really singing it for everyone to hear?

“Dude you didn’t tell me she wrote you a song!” Alexia gave Mapi a little shove, a teasing smile on her face.

“This is news to me!”

And she laughs at all my jokes And she says I'm so American Oh, God, it's just not fair of her To make me feel this much I'd go anywhere she goes And she says I'm so American Oh, God, I'm gonna marry her If she keeps this shit up I might just be in lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-lo-lo-love

Mapi’s eyes look like they were about to pop out of their sockets. The two of you have never said the ‘L’ word to each other yet, but she’d be lying if she said there weren’t times where she almost said it.

God, I'm so boring, and I'm so rude Can't have a conversation if it's not all about you The way you dress, and the books you read I really love my bed, but, man, it's hard to sleep when she's with me When she's with me

Ever since she left Los Angeles, Mapi has also been having a hard time falling asleep, so used to having you in her arms.

And she laughs at all my jokes And she says I'm so American Oh, God, it's just not fair of her To make me feel this much I'd go anywhere she goes And she says I'm so American Oh, God, I'm gonna marry her If she keeps this shit up I might just be in lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-love

I apologize if it's a little too much, just a little too soon But if the conversation ever were to come up I don't wanna assume this stuff But ain't it love?  I think I'm in love

She wanted to run up on the stage and say the words she’s been wanting to say for so long. You technically beat her in saying it, professing it to her and to the whole audience.

And she laughs at all my jokes And she says I'm so American Oh, God, it's just not fair of her To make me feel this much I'd go anywhere she goes And she says I'm so American Oh, God, I'm gonna marry her If she keeps this shit up I might just be in lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-lo-lo-love

—

liked by marialeonn16, user1 and 8,363,829 others

yourinstagram 5 new tunes for ya!! GUTS (spilled) out this friday!!!!!

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user1 AHHHHHH i can’t wait

user2 she preformed so american for us!!!

↳ user3 i loved it so much!

↳ user4 girlie is IN LOVEEE

—

Mapi and the rest of the team followed your bodyguard, Tony, to your dressing room, eating for you to finish thanking the fans. the door opens not that long after as they all spot you walking in.

You see Mapi right away, running to her, even in your tired state, jumping into her arms.

“Hola mi bebé.”

“Hey. I’m so tired.”

“Why don’t you get dressed comfy so we can go back home.”

“Yeah, home.” You walk away, waving to everyone else in the room, before going to get changed.

Two days after, you were still in Barcelona, specifically making sure you’ve taken a week break from tour to be able to stay with Mapi for a bit. You were both walking hand in hand around the city, wanting to spend time with each other doing whatever, just happy to be with her.

—

Y/N Y/LN New Fling?

Y/N Y/LN, an international pop star, was seen getting cozy with a mystery woman in Barcelona.

Just a couple of weeks ago, Y/LN started her international leg of her GUTS tour, preforming in Barcelona two days ago. On stage, she announced a deluxe version of her album, GUTS (spilled), where it features a song she performed for the first time called ‘so american.’

In the song, she said that she is “gonna marry her” and she “might just be in love” so, no this might not just be her new flavor of the week. Is Y/N Y/LN ready to settle down?

Y/LN has been previously linked with Lily Rose Depp, Joshua Basset, and Adam Faze just to name a few. None of those has seemed to last. Paparazzi has caught sight of Y/LN going all around the city of Barcelona with her new supposed girlfriend that we’ve found out is María Pilar León (Mapi), who plays on the Barcelona Femení Football Club. Pictures of the two are now circulating online and we have to say, Y/N looks very much in love. Take a look yourself.

Aren’t they just so cute! Let us know what you think.

—

Sitting on the couch watching a movie with Mapi, your phone suddenly starts going off with notifications.

Man-anger

Just a heads up, you’ve been paparazzied with your gf today.

You

Alright, thanks 👍🏼

“Ugh!” You throw your head back in frustration.

“What’s wrong bebé?”

“Damn paparazzi won’t leave me alone. They got pictures of us and posted them everywhere. I’m sorry. And they said that you’re hopefully not just my flavor of the week. Like what the fuck does that mean?”

“Wait, why are you sorry?”

“Cause I know you wanted to be private about this whole thing and this just ruined it.”

“Hey, hey.” Mapi holds your hands, moving them away from covering your face. “I’m not mad mi amor. We agreed on private but not secret. You can’t prevent people from taking pictures in public, especially of you. Eres hermosa.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and I don’t want to keep hiding how much I love you.”

You freeze. This was the first time Mapi had said she loved you. You know that you technically said it in the song, but now you’re for sure.

“I love you.”

Mapi guides your face to her’s with a hand on your cheek, pulling you into a kiss. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, wrapping your arms around her neck, deepening it.

—

liked by marialeonn16, user1 and 10,638,742 others

yourinstagram i know i’m in love

tagged : @/marialeonn16

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[hoe4sports]

Birds of a feather, we should stick together

Jessie Fleming x reader

-A part of the future prodigy series

A/N: Another Jessie fic. No big triggers. Fluff.

The bliss of a particularly hot summer morning in London was lingering in the warm air. You watched your daughter in the rear view mirror of your Lexus. Watching her was like watching your sister as a child, the resemblance was chilling. Your thoughts had been as chaotic as the first day of a snowstorm in New York. Would your sister approve of this? You had done everything in your power to take care of Clara. You knew that Clara loved Jessie. Your parents loved Jessie. But how could you know if your late sister would’ve loved her?

Today you were heading over to Jessie’s new house that she had purchased a few months ago. Or, rather your new familyhome. It had happened quite fast; one night you and Jessie had gotten wine drunk on a bottle of rosé and Jessie ended up suggesting moving in together. You thought she was crazy; how would a young woman that was on a high if her career want a single mother and her daughter? But Jessie had convinced you and she had decided that you both had too small apartments to raise your daughter in, and Jessie wanted Clara to have her own room with a big garden to play in. For most people, Clara was a shy 4 year old. For you and Jessie, Clara was a chirpy little 4 year old with the biggest fomo. She loved observing, thinking and wondering about the mysteries of life. You had talked to Clara about moving in with Jessie and that she was allowed to say no, but Clara had always been happy about it. Jessie had been quite the sport about the process, wanting to have everything ready before you moved in so that Clara felt safe and that there wouldn’t be any immediate changes after moving in. After all, Clara had a lot of trauma and her anxiety that needed to be accounted for. That lead you to today, the day where you were bringing your daughter over to your new family home.

“Mommy, are we there yet?” Clara asked curiously while her little eyes were scanning in the houses around the street you were driving in. Her hair moving with the wind coming from the half opened window. “Soon baby, how do you feel?” You asked while you took a left turn on the road. “Happy, but mommy, do you think Clara wants to play football with me?” The question made you smile even though Clara practically whispered the last part. When she brushed off her feelings, you knew that she felt safe and good. “I know that Jessie would love to play football with you” you said as you spotted the beautiful driveway with greenery and trees. Clara smiled in the back as she held a steady grip on her teddy. You pulled up to the double garage and parked next to Jessie’s car. It made you smile as it reminded you of when Jessie had insisted on getting a car seat for Clara just weeks after she had met her. You had told her that you could purchase one for Jessie’s car, but Jessie had been adamant about being in this for the long haul. “Ma, it’s Jessie” Clara squealed as she saw Jessie standing by the double doors. Jessie waved to Clara and Clara and waved enthusiastically right back. “Mommy, mommy! It’s Jessie!” Clara squealed again as you turned around to face your daughter. “Yes princess, it is Jessie” you smiled when you noticed the huge smile on Clara’s little face.

You hopped out to get your daughter from her seat, but Jessie beat you to it. Clara was wearing her Canada jersey picked out by nobody but herself with a pink skirt. “Jessie!” Clara chirped as she was playfully tossed in the air. “Is it my favourite girl in the whole wide world? Coming to see her new house, yeah?” Jessie asked and Clara nodded in response. “Yes, my biggestest special house!” The interaction melted your heart in only a way a child could. Clara really loved Jessie with all her little heart. Clara was excited to see her room. You hadn’t really had a garden or a house before considering life as a single mother in London with a 4 year old was expensive. But Jessie didn’t care, she had taken you to tons of viewings until she found the house that she wanted the three of you to live in. She had settled on this gorgeous white house with a big beautiful garden and she had made sure to have professionals install a playground for Clara. Clara was slowly becoming the centre of her world, and you loved it. «Lets go see your new house, Princess!» Jessie said as she put Clara down. Clara immediately sprinted towards the front door while she laughed. Jessie looked towards you, grabbed your hand, pulled you close and whispered “Welcome home baby” before kissing your hand.

When you walked in, the house was finished like you had planned on. Everything from the placing of the couch to the pictures that had been put up. Jessie had made sure that everything you both had written down was perfect, and when Clara was away with her Grandparents for the weekend; you had gotten together and done the last work on the house. “Are you ready Claramell?” Jessie asked as her hand rested on the door handle in the hallway. “Yes, Jessie! I am, I promise I am” Clara giggled as she tucked herself into Jessie’s side. “Let’s go see your new house princess” and with that the exploring of this new home begun.

“This is the kitchen” Jessie said as you followed Clara who had practically run into the room. Clara’s eyes scanned around the room while analysing all the little details. “Come here, let me show you something” you said to Clara as you walked to the big island. You pressed on a drawer and a microwave came out of it. It was a little microwave drawer created so that kids could reach it. Clara studied it as her tiny hands fiddled with the drawer pushing it in and out a couple of times before she nodded. “Can we use it to make pizza bites?” Clara said as she looked into the drawer. “Yes, you can have all the pizza bites you want pretty girl” you said as Clara giggled. She looked around the room before she headed over to the dining table. “Are we gonna have dinner here mommy?” She asked as she climbed up to the chair and onto the table so she could look out the window. “Yes, we are gonna have dinner her as a family here every night” you confirmed. She frowned «oh» she mumbled clearly disappointed. “What’s on your mind Clarabear?” Jessie said as she picked Clara up from the table and held her. “I thought maybe we could sometimes eat in the garden like at grandma’s” You looked at Jessie with a huge grin, this little girl of yours was so well spoken. “Yes, we can eat outside! And I promise, we can even eat in front of the tv sometimes, but don’t tell mommy” Jessie whispered the last part as she winked to Clara who lit up light a Christmas tree.

Clara had found the toy kitchen in the living room and was busy making tea and biscuits for Jessie. It made you giggle, especially when Clara told Jessie that her card had declined. Clara suddenly stopped in her tracks like a deer in headlights when she saw the grand staircase. It was like she had never seen a staircase before, except she had. “What’s up doll?” You asked as you reached for your daughter’s hand. Her big brown eyes were glancing up at the staircase. “What’s that?” Clara whispered as she pulled herself close into you. Jessie scooted closer to the pair of you and tucked Clara’s brown hair behind her ear. “That’s a staircase, it leads to the second floor where your bedroom is and mommy’s bedroom is. Do you want to come check it out?” Jessie asked as Clara’s eyes still hadn’t left the staircase. Her nervousness breaking through in form of biting her pointer. She gently nodded as she grabbed Jessie’s hand tight, still feeling a bit insecure about the thought of living in a two story house.

“Big bed” Clara said her eyes widened at the sight of your and Jessie’s bed. Jessie nodded as she put the tiny girl down on the bed while holding her hands, Clara immediately started jumping like a little money while squealing. Jessie laughed with her and after 4 bounces she jumped straight into Jessie’s arms. The laughter calmed down with Clara laying her head on Jessie’s shoulder.

The moment was interrupted as Clara was looking around when her face formed a confused grin. “Jessie, where’s my bed?” Clara questioned. “You get your very own big girl room with your own big girl bed and your own big girl covers” Jessie announced excitedly. “Jessie has spent a lot of time on making your big girl room Clare” you said as you leaned into the doorframe. Jessie walked with Clara in her arms across the hallway and put Clara down infront of her room. On her door, there a beautifully painted sign was hung up with “Clara” on it in pink. “This is your room, Clarabear” Jessie said as she tapped the door. Clara’s hand touched the doorhandle to open it, and she pushed the door open. Her tiny eyes looked like they were about to fall out of her head. She stepped inside completely speechless while you and Jessie followed close behind. The room was big and had a natural calmness to it. The windows were rather big, and you could see the beautifully fenced garden behind the house. The curtains were hung from the top of the wall all the way down to the floor. The walls were painted in a soft beige color expect from one wall who was painted in a muted pink tone. There was a pink bed in the corner with a pink bed canopy over it to create a safe space for Clara. In one of the corners of her room were all her toys in a set up of playboxes. There was a brand new dollhouse next to the boxes with ponies and little people in it. All her favourite Barbies were lined up next to each other and there was a small ball pit.

Clara walked around the room and touched things. Jessie looked concerned. “Give her a second” you whispered. She saw her dinosaurs. She touched her carpet as she walked across the room, the same carpet from home that she got from her parents before the accident. She walked around with stars in her eyes. There were pictures on the wall of herself, her family, her grandparents, her parents, and the three of you on the pitch after Clara’s first game watching Jessie. She walked towards the bed where she looked at the bedding. It was her favourite princess; Aurora. She sat down on her bed just looking at the room. Jessie looked over to her and smiled. “How do you feel about it? We can paint it or buy new toys or maybe new furniture?” Jessie suggested. Clara shook her head before tearing up. Jessie looked panicked for a second, but you recognised the happy tears from a mile away. Clara stood up and launched herself at Jessie. “I love my big girl room, thank you Jessie” she sniffled. Jessie picked her up and hugged her tight feeling as grateful as ever.

Something about the small one bedroom apartment that you had shared her whole life was comforting and intimate. This new house was big, and it felt empty. But the emptiness was about to be filled with memories of bliss, football in the garden, late dinners, laughter, friends coming over, early breakfasts and first day’s of school. The bliss of a childhood was like a seed that had been planted within the walls of this house. This didn’t just mark the start of something new; it marked the start of the rest of your lives.

[gibberishfangirl]

WIND BREAKER | when they have a shopaholic girlfriend

Synopsis ✰ head cannons of the boys when they’re dating a girl who loves to shop

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Akihiko Nirei, Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama

Contains ✰ suggestive, blushing boys, slight teasing, semi-public (implied), cute content of the boys being boyfriends, tiny amount of spice?

Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

♡ you drag this man to the mall at least twice a week

♡ he personally hates shopping and finds it to be boring but never complains since it’s an excuse to spend time with you

♡ secret confession: he thinks your wasting money but is way too afraid to face your wrath to say it out loud

♡ whenever he asks why you spend so much money on clothes and make up he gets hit with a “there’s a price for beauty”

♡ after he seeing how cute you look in your new outfits he most definitely learns that there is a price for beauty

♡ he will become a blushing mess when you pick out the most revealing outfits

♡ “what do you think?” you asked picking up a skimpy dress and pressing it against your body. his only response is a huge blush that spreads from his nose, cheeks to the tip of his ears

♡ he loses it once you drag him into victoria secret

♡ “don’t you think this would look nice on me?” you teased while picking up crotchless underwear

♡ you absolutely will be the death of this man

♡ he feels like the worlds biggest boy toy carrying all your pink shopping bags and following you into every clothing store

♡ you reward him for being so nice and patient with your shopping by taking him to one of his favorite stores and buying him whatever he wants

♡ wetzel’s pretzels pit stop is a must

♡ you reward him even more by trying on every scandalous outfit you purchased at home in private

Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

♡ acknowledges that your shopping addiction is a problem and tries to help without making you feel bad

♡ he mostly tries to help you through budgeting, thanks to him you’ve cut down shopping to twice a month

♡ Umemiya personally loves your style, especially with how confident you are in your clothes

♡ he always suggests that you should try on your clothes before committing to the purchase

♡ don’t be fooled, it’s not because he wants you to make sure they fit you, he just loves seeing how cute you look in the new outfits

♡ on some occasions he goes around the store himself picking out the cutest tops and skirts he can find for you

♡ once he picks out the cutest pieces he can find you do him the favor of trying them on while he gets to admire your beauty

♡ you manage to get the very lightest blushes from him when the skirts he picks out happen to be shorter than he originally pictured

♡ once your done doing a number on all the stores he carries all your bags

♡ it always surprises you how no matter how many bags you have ume carries them with a startling amount of ease

♡ ofc you offer to carry some but he insists you shouldn’t lift a pretty finger

♡ every cashier compliments how adorable you two look together

♡ “how cute! you two look like a match made in heaven.” a comment you two often receive a lot

♡ depending on your guys mood you might end the day with a movie night

♡ no, Ume can’t help but keep his hands all over you in the dark theater once he finally has you to himself

Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩

♡ will always offer to pay for your items

♡ fortunately enough for his wallet, you almost always decline since you prefer to use your own money

♡ has no problem carrying all your bags, does it with a smile on his face

♡ almost every girl who sees you at the mall is raging with pure jealousy

♡ so many of the girls wished they had a boyfriend as sweet as yours

♡ you couldn’t help but glare at every girl in the mall who was checking him out

♡ he quickly noticed your glares which had him gushing on the inside

♡ he was so flattered to know you could be so possessive over him

♡ once you noticed every cashier you got were lingering their eyes on him longer than they should, batting their eyelashes at him, smiling harder at him than you, one of them even winked at him when they thought you weren’t looking, you lost it.

♡ “i want to go home. im done shopping.” you pouted. Suo knew exactly why you didn’t want to shop anymore but still asked “why not love?” “everyone keeps falling in love with you!” you whined before putting your head on his chest. his heart fluttered at the action before he opened his mouth, “don’t pay any mind to them. i’m all yours” reassuring you with a soft kiss

♡ Suo made sure to reassure you with kisses more after the conversation

♡ you made the mistake of leaving him alone while getting a jamba juice drink, you came back to find a girl asking him out

♡ before you knew it your feet were moving up to them, completely ignoring the girl. you grabbed your boyfriends head by the back of his neck and yanked him down to a deep kiss. you pulled away while saying “hey babe”, the girl instantly walked away embarrassed

♡ Suo blushed after the incident while you continued walking to the next store as if nothing happened

Akihiko Nirei ᡣ𐭩

♡ the absolute sweetest boyfriend about your habits

♡ he’s so incredibly supportive while also making sure you aren’t going to overboard

♡ he helps ensure that you’re only buying what you need and not things you’ll get over in a week

♡ he has no bad opinions, tells you everything looks nice since in his head everything does look nice on you

♡ he gets a little nervous whenever you drag him to the fitting room so you can get his opinions on the clothes

♡ he sits in the lounge room anticipating the moment you walk out of the changing room

♡ you treat this as if it were a fashion show making him tell you what he likes about each article of clothing

♡ whenever you get near any lingerie he gets incredibly shy trying not to look

♡ he won’t even look at the mannequins if they’re wearing risqué clothing

♡ such a sweet innocent boy who you can’t help but tease

♡ one of your favorite things to do were joke about buying lingerie for him, holding up a black lacey set you ask “can you imagine me wearing this for you? would you like it?” with a sweet smile

♡ he could never give you a proper response due to fighting back any suggestive thoughts, just blushes

♡ you let out a giggle and made your way to the cash register making him freeze in shock before quickly making his way to you

♡ you purchased it, Nirei was furiously blushing when the cashier smiled at you and then looked up at him

♡ Nirei’s thoughts were going absolutely wild the entire way home just wondering how soon you’d be willing to wear that for him

Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

♡ he carries all your bag with a significant amount of ease, doesn’t even let you touch a bag before he already has it in place around his arm with the others

♡ Togame doesn’t get shy, jokes about suggestive clothing won’t work on him if anything he’d ask you to wear it for him

♡ this man is holding your hand 24/7, if he has too many bags to hold your hand, you settle with wrapping your arm around his bicep

♡ he loves having such a pretty girl on his arm

♡ he will glare at every man who has lingering eyes on you fighting the urge to go over there and punch both their eyes out of their sockets

♡ he’s the one who drags you into victoria secret, his favorite thing to do is pick out underwear for you to wear later

♡ “these would look so nice on you… while i push them aside to touch your cute little cunt” he whispers in your ear making your face beat red

♡ he’s gotten so used to all your habits and all the stores you go to

♡ he’s mesmerized where all your favorite stores are at so if you ever forget he can easily lead the two of you there

♡ you’re so thankful for Togame’s height whenever there’s an item that’s the last one and is too high up to get he comes to your rescue

♡ he loves to ‘rescue’ you since you always reward him with a kiss and a small “my hero” he loves to hear your praise

♡ you’re a gorgeous girl, ofc there’s always a guy who wants to ask you out

♡ before any guy can even make their way to you they meet Togame’s eyes that holds a dark threatening aura to them

♡ consider every man in existence to be scared off

♡ he personally doesn’t care about your shopping addiction as long as your happy and safe

♡ he ensures that your safety by always being there by your side

Choji Tomiyama ᡣ𐭩

♡ he loves your shopping addiction, he thinks it’s a cute habit of yours and figures if you can afford it why not?

♡ he finds it absolutely adorable to watch you gush over every item at the store

♡ you both always go to miniso first, it’s a must

♡ especially since it’s the main store that provides items you both like

♡ you guys are fascinated by the alarming amount of blind boxes miniso provides

♡ you do some blind boxes unboxing and he always gives you the one he gets if it’s the one you originally wanted

♡ when it comes to clothing shops he loves watching you try on clothes

♡ he purposefully picks out the shortest skirts for you to try on

♡ “try this on for me? yeah?” he was never afraid to ask you to try on something scandalous for him even if it made your face crimson red

♡ Choji is anything but shy he has no problem being bold with you, it’s a blessing and a curse

♡ “i- you can’t come in with me!” you blush as Choji steps inside the changing room. his only response is “no one’s watching us, it’s fine”

♡ Choji is very impatient. he won’t wait until your home, if he wants you he’ll have you

♡ even if that means having to clamp his hand over your mouth to muffle the sweet sounds you make

♡ secret confession: Choji loves to pick out miniskirts for you, it makes you so easily accessible

a/n <3 : i’ve been in such a head cannon mood lately? im having so much fun writing them, im obsessed! expect more to come soon <3

[estellan0vella]

Little Oracle ❀ Sukuna Masterlist

The morning sun filters through the leaves, casting dappled light on the garden. You're sitting on a stone bench, the cool surface a stark contrast to the warmth of the day. A delicate breeze rustles the flowers, carrying the sweet scent of blossoms. Before you, your crystal ball rests on its ornate stand, catching the light and refracting it into a myriad of colors.

Lost in the depths of the crystal, you trace your fingers over the smooth surface, your mind drifting through visions of what is, what was, and what could be. The future dances before you in fragmented images, a kaleidoscope of possibilities. Sometimes it feels like a beautiful, intricate tapestry; other times, it's an overwhelming storm of information.

You're so absorbed in your trance-like state that you don't notice the figure approaching. Sukuna's presence is a commanding one, but even he can't always pierce through the veil of your concentration. He stands a few paces away, watching you with an intensity that would make others tremble, but which you find comforting.

"My little oracle," he says, his voice a deep rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. "Lost in your visions again?"

You blink, coming back to the present. Your eyes meet his, and you smile, a dreamy, slightly distracted smile. "Sukuna," you murmur, the name filled with affection and reverence. "I was just... there was something important. Something about... oh, it's gone now."

He chuckles, the sound rich and warm. "You need to be more careful, my queen. One of these days, you'll fall into that crystal ball and never come out."

You giggle at the absurdity, but there's a hint of truth in his words. Sometimes you do get too lost in your visions. But you know he would always find you, no matter where you wandered.

Standing, you gather your skirts and the crystal ball, carefully placing it in the basket you always carry. As you do, you lose your balance slightly, your clumsiness making itself known. Sukuna's hand is instantly at your elbow, steadying you with ease.

"My little dove," he says softly, looking at you with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. "What would you do without me?"

You smile up at him, eyes twinkling. "I'd probably end up in a ditch somewhere," you admit with a laugh. "Or stuck in a hedge, trying to read the future in the patterns of the leaves."

His grip on your elbow tightens for a moment before he lets go, and you both start walking through the garden. It's a meandering path, your steps light and slightly aimless, Sukuna's sure and purposeful. He doesn't mind your wandering, though. In fact, he seems to enjoy it, like you're some rare, enchanting creature that he's fascinated by.

As you walk, you pull out your tarot cards, shuffling them with practiced ease despite your usual clumsiness. You spread them out on a nearby table, your fingers gliding over the worn edges. Sukuna watches, his eyes never leaving you. There's a soft smile playing on his lips, a rare sight that only you ever get to see.

You draw a card, the image of The Lovers coming into view. You glance up at Sukuna, who raises an eyebrow in amusement.

"Does that mean we're fated to be together?" he teases.

You tilt your head, considering the card. "It means we are two parts of a whole," you say thoughtfully. "Two halves that complete each other."

He leans down, his face close to yours. "I could have told you that without the cards," he murmurs, and then his lips brush yours in a tender kiss.

It's moments like these that you cherish the most. Despite his fearsome reputation and his often harsh demeanor, with you, he's gentle and caring. He treats you like you're the most precious thing in the world, and you can't help but love him all the more for it.

Later, you find yourself in the tea room, your teacup in hand as you stare intently at the leaves. The future swirls before you in the patterns they create, but your focus is broken when you hear Sukuna's laughter. He's standing in the doorway, watching you with that same affectionate smile.

"Lost again, my little oracle?" he asks, coming to sit beside you.

You nod, setting the teacup down. "The leaves were trying to tell me something, but it was all jumbled."

He takes your hand in his, his thumb tracing circles on your palm. "Maybe it's not the leaves you should be listening to," he says softly. "Maybe you should just trust in us, in what we have."

You look at him, your heart swelling with love. "You're right," you whisper. "I don't need to see the future to know that we're meant to be together."

He pulls you into his arms, holding you close. "My queen, my seer," he murmurs into your hair. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what the future holds."

As the days go by, your routine remains much the same. You spend your mornings in the garden, your afternoons with your tarot cards and tea leaves, and your evenings with Sukuna. He's a constant presence in your life, grounding you when you get too lost in your own head.

One day, as you're wandering through the estate, you find yourself hopelessly lost. The corridors all look the same, and your mind is still half occupied with a vision you had earlier. You turn a corner and find yourself in an unfamiliar hallway.

Just as you're about to despair, you hear his voice. "There you are, my little oracle."

You turn to see Sukuna striding towards you, his expression a mix of amusement and concern. "I told you not to wander off without me," he chides gently, taking your hand.

"I got lost," you admit sheepishly. "I was thinking about the vision, and..."

He sighs, but there's no real annoyance in his eyes. "What am I going to do with you?" he mutters, pulling you close.

"Love me forever?" you suggest, looking up at him with a hopeful smile.

He laughs, the sound echoing through the hallway. "Yes, my queen," he says, kissing your forehead. "I'll love you forever. And I'll always find you, no matter where you wander."

With his hand firmly in yours, he leads you back to familiar territory. You walk in comfortable silence, the bond between you unspoken but ever-present. You know that with him by your side, you can face anything. And as you look up at him, your heart full of love, you know that the future, no matter how uncertain, is something you can look forward to.

I'm a slut for soft Sukuna. Sue me

[gumified]

Omgg for a part two or ‘whispers of gold’ you could do on insight on their life after escaping the dungeon.. 💕

you can even show detail about satorus kingdom and his personal life with reader being human and him taking her there when other demons consider is improper or even hate it…

You can make it fluffy like a domestic day with them stuff like that <3

perhaps a wedding/pregnancy fic also? 🤭

pairing: demon!satoru x human!reader

summary: domestic bliss after you escape <3

content: 0.7k, fluff, just a cute little drabble i whipped up <3

note: maybe maybeee i'll write a pregnancy fic if these exams let me, we will see <3 ENJOY THO MY LOVES

If anyone told you that the life you would have found the love of your life while being locked up in a dingy dungeon you would’ve laughed in their faces. Yet here you were. The world you discover was vast and filled with so many beautiful sights that you found it hard to comprehend just how gorgeous everything is. Your whole life had been spent cooped up in the tiny village you called home, now with Satoru by your side everything seemed technicoloured. 

Days turn into weeks turn into months and you find yourself even more enamoured by the demon than you already are. He had teleported the both of you to a breath-taking meadow when you had first escaped. There was an abundance of wildflowers and in the middle stood a little cottage. It seemed as though he had plucked the perfect home from your head and spun it into reality. 

Satoru tried his best to assimilate into human life as best as he could. There were many mornings that you awoke to the sweet scent of flowers and him fumbling in the kitchen looking very out of place. He keeps his promise, taking you to the most magical places in the kingdom. Secret glades, glistening lakes, hidden forests. Satoru loves to show off his powers, teleporting you to breathtaking vistas and enchanting places, always with a playful grin and a request for a kiss as “payment.”

One particularly memorable evening, he whisked you away to a cliffside overlooking the ocean. As the sun set, casting a golden hue over the water, you sat together, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. “I thought you might like this place.” He whispered, his voice filled with warmth.

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Satoru.”

The seasons changed, and with them came new adventures and experiences. Spring brought picnics in the meadow, where you would lie in the grass, watching the clouds drift by, hands intertwined. Summer meant long days by the lake, swimming and sunbathing, the two of you laughing and splashing like children. Autumn was a time for cosy evenings by the fire, wrapped in blankets, sharing stories and dreams.

And now, it was winter. Snow blanketed the ground outside, little snowflakes falling from the sky as you sat cuddling in front of a fire. His arms are wrapped around your body and you lean back against his broad chest, enjoying the feeling of his warmth radiating off his body. Satoru’s chin’s on your head and you bask in the bliss that you were now so familiar with. Your hand found his and you smiled as he intertwined his fingers with yours. 

“Remember when we first escaped?” You mused at the distant memory. “Feels like forever ago.”

“It does.” Satoru hummed as you listened to the slow beating of his heart.

Silence stretched between the both of you and all that could be heard was the gentle crackling of the fire. 

“Satoru.” You begin softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “When I first met you, I never imagined we’d end up here. You were...terrifying.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, and he gave a short laugh. The mere sound has butterflies erupting in your stomach. “I was trying to be. Demons aren’t supposed to be comforting.”

“But you are.” You insisted, squeezing his hand tightly. “You are to me.”

He looked down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “You changed everything.” His voice was quiet. “From the moment I gave you my name, I knew things would never be the same.”

You lifted your head to look into his eyes, the firelight reflecting in their depths. “You changed everything for me too. You showed me a world I never knew existed. You showed me love.”

Satoru’s expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss you gently. “I love you.” He murmured against your lips, the words filled with a depth of emotion that took your breath away.

“I love you too.” You whispered back, your heart swelling with happiness that you found. 

The grasp he had on your heart was tight and you knew he would never let go. You knew that Satoru would be yours forever and you forever his. The love you held for him was something you always cherished and now that you were here, in his arms, you never wanted to let him go. As the night continued, both of you drifted off to sleep. The fire continued to crackle and the light flickered. The matching gold bands the both of you had on your fingers glinted in the light, the memories of the promises you both made to each other only a few months ago.

[secondbeatsongs]

Hello, you said in some tags in a poll that Speed Racer (2008) is your favorite film. If you’re okay with it, I’d really like to hear more about why you love it. I love the Wachowskis’ work (they’re among my favorite directors), but I kinda ended up bouncing off Speed Racer (2008). So, hearing that it had a real impact on someone makes me very curious why. I’m not interested in criticizing your opinion or arguing with you, I’d just really like to know why you love it in the hopes I might be able to enjoy that movie more in the future.

oh god this is from seven months ago, I'm so sorry - but I do love almost everything about Speed Racer (2008) and I still think about it nearly every day.

I love that it's so bright and colorful and absurd. I love that it's an anime in live action form. and I love that at its heart, it is a story about love.

it's about the mistakes people make out of love, and the consequences of that. it's about the way children grow to understand why the adults around them make the choices they do, and maybe choose to do the same things. it's about taking risks for the people you love, and the pain of failing to change the world, because everything is capitalism and everything hurts.

(and it's also about being transgender btw. like, that's one of the main things about it - it is very much a movie about being transgender)

what if your father's choices hurt your older brother, and your older brother's choices hurt you, and now it's you and your younger brother staring down a future where you're going to end up hurting him by making the same choice?

and then...what if you can escape that? what if the broken parts put themselves back together, and the hope doesn't run out, and you're not alone with the things that haunt you? what then?

and now you're at the end and mistakes were still made, people were still hurt, but everyone's grown and changed and they're different now. and they've figured out that maybe, just maybe, you can change the world by doing something you love, by creating art and beauty and making people feel things.

maybe you really can defeat capitalism by driving a car really fast. and even if everyone thinks you can't...don't you have to try anyway? shouldn't you fight with the skills you have, the only way you know how?

what if it works?

and I'm not even gonna get into most of the Racer X stuff (because I want people to go watch this movie, and most folks probably won't be spoiled for it), but his whole deal is just...everything. I love him.

(if there's a guy from Speed Racer that I want to put in a jar and shake every so often, or maybe wrap in a blanket so he can have a nice nap, it's Racer X. he's a great character. prime blorbo material)

anyway I've been rotating this movie in my head ever since I saw it for the first time, and I think I've seen it...seven? times now? and I still cry at the final race, and I still get blown away by the intro sequence.

(the beginning of the movie is genuinely one of the best things I've ever seen - it does an amazing job of introducing you to the world and the story of the characters, and gets you emotionally invested in it right from the start. it's fantastic filmmaking)

also like. story stuff aside, from a technical standpoint, the movie is a masterpiece. it's the type of thing that people hated when it first came out, but when you look at it now and see how it was made, how it intentionally looks bizarre and cartoonish, plastic and surreal, you can see the exact vision the Wachowskis were going for, and it's brilliant.

the way they did the visual effects, the way they made the outdoor scenes feel so detailed, the way the driving and the tracks work - they put so much thought into that, and the behind-the-scenes vids show how cool their process was.

also uhhh cars go vroom, crash into each other, flip upside down, explode, maybe have bees and hammers in them sometimes?

(the above is me complimenting the unhinged vibe of the races themselves, which I love very much)

anyway I could make other full posts about the script of the film and how much I love it, or the cool side characters, or the fanfic potential of the amazing world of the film, or how I can prove that it's set in 1991...but I guess if anyone wants those rants, they'll just have to watch the film and then come talk to me. :)

(please. please come talk to me about Speed Racer.)

so, yeah! I kinda lost my mind there and made this post way longer than I intended, but I do feel strongly affected by this movie, and I hope this has helped explain why.

[makeyoumine69]

Before You Fade (Memory Reboot x3)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: After moving to Chicago, you thought you had left your former life behind. But when you receive a mysterious invitation one day, you realize you still have unfinished business in New York.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, mutual pining, obsessive behavior, desperate & sensual foreplay, anal fingering, penetrative & oral sex, biting, spanking, creampie, masturbating, mild praise kink & degradation, body worship, pet names, dirty talk, misogyny, swearing, gaslighting, manhandling, mind manipulation, cheating.

WORDS: 6.8k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent — Before You Fade

A/N: Hello everyone! A new chapter is finally here! This story has me in a chokehold! I highly recommend you to read the first chapter and the second one for a better understanding and as always I hope you like it! If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST].

A new city, a new life, new people and new opportunities—all this was supposed to bring some relief, to ignite a new flame in your chest, to set a new goal, to make you forget everything that happened in New York. It was supposed to, but it never did.

After a few months of living in Chicago and working in a prestigious financial corporation, you began to notice that your life now looked like a vicious circle and the days blurred into one long day that never ended. That was probably the price you paid for running away, for being too cowardly to face the truth that what you shared with Bateman was not just a history—it was a goddamn passion and obsession that most people could only dream of. But you, you were not like them. For you, this obsession was like a plague, a disease, and you were sure that Patrick felt the same way. Still, the words he said that day were like scars on your mind. The poor guy really thought that you would stay with him, that you would miss a chance to reboot your life. Since you couldn't reboot the memory, this was the only way out.

Was that it?

The sleek interior of your office greeted you with the invigorating aroma of fresh coffee waiting for you on your desk made by your lovely assistant—a handsome guy named Vincent—he was quite modest but smart and sometimes you even thought you should have asked him out for something more serious than coffee. But then again, the shitty memories kept ruining all those weak impulses to try something new.

Sighing, you closed the door behind you and took off your coat, placing it on the nearby hanger and glancing at the beautiful bouquet of flowers on the small coffee table next to the big black couch. These flowers…you bought them for yourself just because you wanted them, not because you felt lonely or…

'Fuck, not again,' you shook your head, not giving yourself a chance to spiral again, knowing how quickly that could happen. Today was the worst day for self-digging, because you were going to present a final plan for a future quarter, and you couldn't fail. Not today, not ever. The moment you finally settled into your favorite armchair, you heard a soft knock at the door. You knew who it was even before you let the guest in.

Vincent, smiling as if he saw the brightest star in the midnight sky, opened the door and entered with cat-like grace. "Are you busy?"

Embarrassed by the man's persistent gaze, you folded your hands and leaned down on the table. "No, not really, I just came," you brought the coffee cup closer and wrapped your elegant fingers around its handle. "…and realized I have the best secretary in the world."

A sonorous chuckle rumbled from Vincent's chest. "Oh, you're too kind," the man walked into the office holding a pile of documents. "I brought you some fresh correspondence you might like to see."

"Uh, yes, thank you. Put it here, please."

The brown-haired secretary complied, and soon there was a large white envelope in front of you, next to the documents. There was something odd about having such a large envelope of mail since it was almost the end of the work week, but you just tapped your fingers on the smooth surface of the table in a slightly skeptical manner before turning your attention back to Vincent, who was standing in front of the desk, ready to assist you with anything you might ask.

"Anything else I can do?"

"I think that's about it for now," you answered, staring at the envelope from time to time out of the corners of your ears, sipping the hot drink and letting the warmth flow down your tensed body. "Oh, did you hear that our CEO won't be at the presentation today?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, he…has some unfinished business in LA…with a hot blonde chick."

You both laughed in unison, everything was clear as a bell. "Well, that sounds important." Vincent crossed his arms over his chest, the Oliver Peoples O'Malley glasses sitting perfectly on the bridge of his nose, though you tried not to focus on that little detail that constantly reminded you of Bateman. As if he was the only yuppie to wear such glasses. "Have you…"

As soon as Vincent started to speak, your phone rang—the loud sound even startled you a bit, but you quickly shook yourself and picked up the call, being extremely curious who could be calling you like this. "I'm listening."

"(Y/n)!" Paul Allen's cheerful timbre came from the other end of the line, making you almost jump in your seat.

"P-Paul?" You gave Vincent a worried look, and your nervousness seemed to affect your assistant as well, because he didn't look relaxed anymore. "Did something happen?"

"What? No! Of course not," Allen chuckled, and a female giggle could be heard in the background. "I'm calling to ask when we can see each other in New York…"

A noise grew louder, making it difficult to hear Paul's words, so you had to close one of your ears and furrow your brows in irritation. "Where are you calling from? A brothel? I can't fucking hear a word!"

Such a remark made Vincent laugh a little shyly, but then the man bowed his head and retreated in his professional, polite manner.

"Can you repeat…" You began to speak at the same time as Paul.

"…so when can we meet?"

Grumbling, you rolled your eyes. "Why did you even decide that I would visit New York?"

"Didn't you get the invitation to the wedding?" Paul's question made you feel something heavy in your stomach.

"Wedding? Who's wedding?"

There was a moment of silence that left you so nervous that you didn't even notice a pencil in your hands that was about to break because of how desperately you were squeezing it.

"Halberstram…" another pause, then another female snicker. All of it made you sick. "He's marrying a hardbody named… Cecilia, if I'm not mistaken."

Somehow you felt strangely relieved.

"But it's been several months since I quit, why was I invited?"

"Gee, (y/n)," now it was time for Paul to grumble a bit. "You think a few months are enough to forget you?" He laughed shamelessly into the phone. "Okay, okay, maybe I chose the wrong time to call you. But seriously, I'm looking forward to hanging out with you when you get here."

"Argh, fine," you muttered, finally letting go of the pencil only to grab the annoying envelope. "I'll call you later, today is really a fucked up day for me."

When you heard nothing but women laughing, you just hung up. 'God, it's only ten in the morning and Allen's already having fun. What am I doing wrong with my life?' You vented to yourself, twisting the envelope in your hands as if you were about to open Pandora's box.

With a deft move, you pulled out a postal knife and carefully cut open the envelope to gain access to its contents. Time stood still for you as your hands involuntarily reached for a beautifully decorated card that could definitely be a wedding invitation. After a short exhalation, you opened it and it took you several minutes to process what you had just seen, as you thought you were hallucinating.

The card had the following text:

“The honor of your presence is requested at the marriage of

Evelyn Arwyn Williams And Patrick Pierce Bateman

Saturday, the twentieth of October nineteen hundred and eighty-seven at twelve o'clock in the afternoon

Ziegfeld Ballroom 141 W 54th St New York, NY 10019.”

The card fell from your hands without any resistance. You felt dizzy, even nauseous, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the office and you were literally suffocating.

'How dare…' you cursed to yourself, grabbing the collar of your blouse in a feint attempt to unbutton it from the burning itch on your skin, '…you…fucking bastard!'

Dazed, you stood up faster than you should have, making your head spin and nearly knocking you over if you hadn't leaned on the back of your chair. You need some fresh air or a sip of heavy alcohol or a fucking gram. Something that will take you out of this situation, even if only for a moment.

"Boss?" Vincent's worried voice came out of nowhere. "Are you okay?"

Panting, you shot an angry glance at your table, then at your lovely assistant, whose bright eyes were like two glowing beacons. "Vincent, listen," you stammered, unable to find the right words. "Can you please order me a ticket," you closed your eyes for a second, counted to ten and gripped the back of your chair. "…to New York."

"New York? Something wrong?"

"N-no," you managed to laugh off your tension and stop grazing the leather under your fingernails. "It's just… seems like I have some deals to settle in New York, some old ones I thought were closed."

"Only one ticket or…"

"I need a ticket in both directions, of course," you mumbled nervously before taking a coffee and finishing it in one go, thankfully it became less hot. "I won't be there for long," you said as if you were trying to convince yourself, desperately trying. It was only when you met Vincent's eyes that you noticed his sad look and realized that you might have upset him. "Uh, I really wish I could take you with me… but I want someone to look after things here and…"

The dark-haired man smiled sympathetically, and that helped to calm you a little. "Oh, please, don't apologize; it's my job," he said, visibly relaxed, considering his casual pose with his hands in the pockets of his Armani trousers. "I'm just worried about you, I don't want anything bad to happen."

Slightly embarrassed, you couldn't help but grin sincerely. "Ah, Vincent, you're such a sweetheart," you rumbled with undisguised amusement. "Everything will be fine. I promise, you have nothing to worry about."

"All right, then," Vincent pulled himself up and opened the door. "I'll let you know when I have information about your flights."

After that you were left alone again. The muffled din of the city outside the office could be heard faintly whenever you walked past the windows, restlessly making circles around the room.

'Maybe I should just ignore it? Maybe it's just a bad joke and I should call Tim and ask him about it?' You covered your face with your palms before sighing tiredly. Once again, Bateman was forcing you to make strange decisions and you hated it. You hated him, you hated the wedding that hasn't even happened yet, and you hated yourself for being so easily overwhelmed.

No way in hell did you expect to visit New York too soon after you left the city and everything that happened there behind your back the moment you took your seat in an airplane to Chicago. And who would dare to judge you for that? Right, no one but you.

The wedding was supposed to be tomorrow, so you had some time to prepare for… for what? Yawning, you stretched your legs in the uncomfortable backseat of the taxi, the driver asking you where you were from and if you had ever been to New York. And at some point you felt sad because you really wanted to say no, you haven't. But you did, and only God knew how hard it had been for you to survive the past months of constant self-digging and dead-end conversations with your vicious subconscious.

Thanks to Vincent, you didn't have to worry about where to stay in New York, as he booked you a luxury suit at the Plaza Hotel. Ah, Vincent…that boy was so sweet that sometimes you could even believe in supernatural beings, as if life was trying to make amends for the unpleasant situation with Bateman.

Sitting on the big bed, you tried your best not to have a panic attack or, even worse, go crazy and empty the minibar, drinking as much as you could as if tomorrow would never come. 'Gosh, I'd sell my soul to see Bateman's face if I came to the wedding being completely drunk.’ With a silly smile on your face, you kept dreaming about some nonsense to distract yourself until the night came and you had to get some sleep before the wedding.

The next day started terribly when some random maid came early and mixed up your suit with someone else's. In the end, you couldn't say that you were rested enough, but you didn't have much time and you still had to come up with an idea for your outfit. 'Should I wear something extravagant or perhaps something more modest?' You spun around in front of the large mirror, the clock was ticking and that sound was really getting on your nerves.

"Uh, to hell with it…" you cursed to yourself and finally picked out a blue Gucci suit that fit your figure perfectly. "I don't want to overshadow the groom."

Winking at your own reflection, you added a few accessories before leaving the Plaza, where a beautiful Cadillac was waiting for you. A driver opened the back door for you, smiled politely, and at some point you even began to think that this day wouldn't be as shitty as it promised to be.

By the time you arrived at the Ziegfeld Ballroom, it was already quite crowded, with many luxury cars lining the street, delivering more and more stylishly dressed guests. With a heavy heart, you held an invitation in your hand and fought the urge to tear it apart and tell the driver to drive away. The sudden appearance of Courtney and Luis in your vision pulled you out of your doubts. 'So that bastard even invited Courtney,' you hummed and slowly opened the door to get out of the car.

All the way to the Ziegfeld Ballroom, you tried to be careful not to bump into anyone you didn't really want to interact with, like Timothy, Craig, David, Paul… Even though you were sure it was going to happen one way or another, you still didn't want to face reality too soon.

Inside the huge hall, you stopped near the long banquet table decorated with white and red roses—the whole style of the wedding screamed Evelyn. Nothing special, though, Bateman probably didn't care about such things as wedding decorations.

Taking a glass of champagne, you moved deeper into the hall and watched the guests split into groups. Still, you were lucky because you didn't see any familiar faces, even Luis and Courtney got lost somewhere among the faceless yuppies and their dates. Everything seemed fine, you had a plan to see the couple get married and then… slip away? It was such a stupid plan, but at least you had one.

Puzzled, you told yourself to leave all thoughts to the latter, when you wouldn't be so vulnerable, staying in the middle of the ballroom and watching the several waitresses bringing more and more appetizers. You were even about to try one of them when you accidentally noticed Tim and Craig coming your way. Trembling, you almost dropped the glass, but somehow you managed to put it on the nearby table, startling a waitress with your erratic behavior, but you didn't care.

As fast as you could, you rushed in a different direction from the group of your former friends, desperately searching for any room you could get into. Your pulse pounded in your eardrums, forcing you to open the first door and enter.

Breathing heavily, you pressed your back against the door and closed your eyes for a second, only to open them in a blood-chilling shock as you met a pair of hazel, dark eyes as bewildering as your own.

"You?" Bateman's startled voice bounced off the walls of the small bathroom, his face frozen in a confused grimace as if he couldn't believe his eyes. "What the fuck are you doing in here?"

"Me? You invited me, you fool!" You barked back, pulling away from the door and moving toward the brown-haired man. "Have you forgotten already?"

Patrick looked absolutely stunning in his wedding tuxedo, the black bow tie being the cherry on top of his impeccably styled appearance. For a brief moment, Bateman studied your angry expression, his thick eyelashes batting like bird wings.

"It was Evelyn," he replied curly, standing still. "How delusional you must be to think I would invite you?"

Crossing his arms, Patrick smiled, and at first glance he seemed calm, but his slightly trembling lips betrayed him. With a soft chuckle, you moved closer until you noticed a beautiful bride's bouquet—a combination of roses again.

"So did Evelyn get what she wanted? I can see her in every little detail of this wedding. The Ziegfeld Ballroom was her idea too?"

The man sighed wearily and rubbed the bridge of his nose briefly. "No, my mother insisted."

"Oh," you beamed, carefully taking the bouquet in your noticeably shaking hands. "How sweet."

With a quick movement, Patrick snatched the flowers out of your hands and placed them back on the bathroom counter. "I had to walk around with this bouquet like an idiot, because I didn't even see Evelyn all this time!"

Such an outburst made you pause for a moment. "Relax, Bateman," you pretended to cheer him up. "Soon you'll be a family man."

The words forced him to clench his teeth as if they caused him physical pain. "Why did you come here, (y/n)?"

"Do you have any ideas?"

The distance between the two of you became smaller and smaller, melting like ice under the burning sun. You didn't even notice that every time he spoke, you couldn't take your eyes off his plump lips, his perfectly shaped chin that you wanted to touch, the way his eyebrows curled… God, you shouldn't have come here in the first place…

"I'm not gonna play your games anymore," Patrick suddenly blurted out, pulling you out of your lewd dreams. "If you came here just to get on my nerves, I'll tell security to kick you out."

"Woah, woah," you jerked back as Bateman stepped closer, your foreheads almost bumping into each other. "You seem very tense, marriage is a stressful thing, right?"

You continued to back away until you hit the wall behind you, and in the next second, the man caught you between his arms, placing them on either side of your trembling little form.

"Bateman?" You asked him breathlessly.

Frowning, he leaned down. You thought he was going to kiss you, but he just gasped and turned away. "I hate you," those words hurt you more than you could ever imagine. "Do you see these hands?" He asked, raising his hand and bringing it closer to your face. "I could break your neck so easily and watch your dead body fall to the ground."

A creeping fear rippled through your chest as he spoke. "You're kidding, right?" You tried to make a joke out of it, but as he tightened his grip around your throat like an iron ring, a muffled whimper escaped your tense lungs. "Ahh, w-what…"

Instead of actually hurting you, the dark-haired man brought you closer, so that your lips finally collided and the way you kissed was beyond any normalcy of kissing. Growling like a beast, Patrick literally bit into your trembling lips, almost tearing the soft flesh away, his grasp on your neck never loosening, only tightening when you dared to hug his shoulders, snuggling against him.

"Fuck," you cursed as he pulled away to nip at your neck. "You… scared the shit out of me! You psy…"

His hand abruptly covered your mouth, not letting you finish what you were about to say. "You came here because you couldn't forget me, huh? Because you are so fucking miserable in Chicago and no one gives a fuck about you?"

With your eyes shut tight, you whimpered against his palm at the faint physical contact with his hard groin. It was already too much, but then you heard a soft click of the door lock. 'Am I really going to die?' The thought alone made your knees weak. Meanwhile, Bateman was nuzzling against your cheek, inhaling your scent like an animal in rut, and you couldn't do anything, trapped in the strong arms you'd been dreaming about all these months.

The question he asked hung in the air for some time, even after Patrick removed his hand, waiting for your answer, you couldn't speak because… he was right. But to admit it would mean that you had lost. Lost in your own game.

"Why did you run away from me?" The man asked unexpectedly, his whole mood changing from wild to sad, bordering on despair. "Tell me!"

"I thought it would be better for both of us, okay?" You hated yourself for not finding better words, but it was so damn hard to think in a situation like this. "And I still think so."

With a wry grin, the man distanced himself a bit. "And that's why you're here with me… in some random bathroom… in the middle of my wedding?"

It did look familiar. That fleeting moment you gave in to temptation in the Tunnel that changed your life forever and for which you're still paying the price.

"You don't love her, do you?" You didn't even recognize your own voice.

"It's none of your business," Bateman replied before lowering his palm to your hip and squeezing it. "Now get on your knees, I don't have much time."

The audacity of this man was unbearable. Embarrassed but extremely aroused, you stifled a moan from the way he stroked your ass, encouraging you to obey. Biting your lower lip, you remembered how delicious this man tasted—a memory that haunted you every day—you should have resisted, you should have just stopped everything here and now, because there would be no happy ending.

‘I should have, but I can't,’ these six words flashed through your cloudy mind as you slid down the wall to meet the visible bulge in Patrick's tight pants.

"Good, good," he praised, casually unfastening his jacket and then his belt, just as you saw his white suspenders hugging his shoulders so deliciously that you had to hold your breath. "God, if I knew Evelyn was going to give me a wedding present like that, I'd postpone the wedding."

"You're a sick man," you murmured, but he just chuckled. "I hope you know that?"

"So are you.”

There was a small lounge chair in the other corner of the bathroom, and the moment Bateman saw it, you knew what he would do. Smirking mischievously, the man lifted you up with practiced ease and moved you to the chair, sitting down and spreading his toned legs so you could take your place between them. Patrick used all the self-control he had left to undo his pants without actually tearing them apart, his erection jutting out the moment he lowered the confines of his garments.

This scene made you lick your lips with undisguised hunger. Slowly, you leaned down between his wide-open legs and teasingly took his swollen tip into your mouth, then pulled away. "You're going to marry a woman who can't suck you off better than me, aren't you?"

Instead of taunting you back, the man grabbed the back of your head and made you take him deeper until your nose rubbed against his thick pubic hair, but it was still not enough, his cock was too big.

"Ahhh, what's that? Your mouth is too small to take me in?" Bateman commented cheekily as he watched your eyes get wet as you gagged. "You can only use it to say shit, but when it comes to real business…" the man pushed into your mouth again, fixing your head in one place. "…it doesn't seem to be useful."

"Mhmm," you tried to slip out of his grip, but he held you deadly tight. At one point you even wanted to use your teeth, but fortunately a loud commotion from outside attracted Patrick's attention and he let you go. "You…you are so pathetic…" you coughed several times, understanding that your end was near. "Even in a moment like this…you can't keep quiet! Like a fucking chatterbox…"

You wanted to say something else, but the way Bateman's dick pressed against your cheek, the weight of it, the warmth, it was all too overwhelming for both you and him, considering how tense Patrick's face was when you let his erection slide along your jaw as you descended lower to tease his sensitive balls with your tongue.

"Oh-fuck…" The man gasped, tilting his head back to lean against the wall and mumbling something incoherently.

Ashamed of what you were doing, you paused for a second, wondering what consequences awaited the two of you in the future. But all your attempts to stop yourself from falling into the abyss of consuming depravity were mercilessly crushed by reality— Bateman, all spread out for you, his cheeks blushing slightly as he enjoyed the oral pleasure you were giving him. This reality hit too hard. After all, you were enjoying that dick as well.

"So let it happen," you murmured suddenly before you wrapped your wet lips, covered with your saliva and his pre-cum, around his blushing shaft once more, your hands still rubbing his heavy sac. His skin was so soft there that you literally wanted to scream.

"W-what?" The man asked suddenly, as if he had just woken up from the enticing spell. "What are you talking about… are you so cock drunk that your brain can't function?"

At first, dirty talk like that could be really arousing, but now, hearing it for the hundredth time in a row, it was more amusing than hot. Without saying anything, you raised your eyes to him, your sneaky fingers delving deeper between his legs to stroke the rim of his tight muscles. A throaty moan escaped his suddenly dry lips. 'Cock drunk, huh?' You were proud of yourself, having a man like Patrick in a chokehold with your deliberate ministrations.

"Look at you, Bateman, you're such a naughty boy who loves it when someone plays with his ass?" You teased in between heavy gasps, as sucking such a huge cock was quite a challenge. "Does Evelyn even know about this?

Clenching his teeth, he tried to pull at your hair, but you dodged, pressing your finger persistently against his tight asshole before gently probing it, and you could swear to God, if heaven really existed, you wanted Patrick's moans to be music there.

"Uh, you're such a brat, babe," that nickname made you freeze. "This is going to end you one day…" His eyes rolled back into his head as you pushed your finger deeper into him, using a small amount of liquid on it as a lubricant. "(Y/n), you seem to need to bother your hands with something else…" you gave him a questioning look and he grinned in satisfaction, admiring the way his veiny, leaking dick slipped in and out of your lips. "Touch yourself… I know you want to…"

Fucking bastard. Why did he have to say it now? His words involuntarily triggered the memories of the lonely nights you spent in Chicago, masturbating almost every day when you thought of Patrick, telling yourself that he probably did the same. After all, maybe that was true?

As you pulled his cock out of your wet mouth, you quickly undid your belt and then your pants, pulling them down like an obstacle standing between you and mind-blowing pleasure. Locking your eyes with his walnut ones, you got up and tugged at the lapels of his jacket, forcing him to bend over so you could kiss him. Bateman didn't flinch, kissing you back, tasting himself on your lips and sucking on your tongue as you moaned shamelessly. Afterwards, you slipped a finger into his mouth and he licked it obediently before taking it inside.

"Oh, Patrick," you gasped before sitting down. "Why can't it be like this all the time?"

The brown-haired man smiled, exactly that smile that could make you commit a crime, how charming it was, it made you want to cry here and now.

Silently, Patrick leaned down to take your hand and place it between your legs, then he took your other hand and brought it back to his engorged dick, forcing you to resume your ministrations and from that moment on, you just let yourself go.

Rubbing your most sensitive spot, you whimpered and closed your eyes as you jerked him off, feeling the drops of his warm pre-cum dripping down your palm. Your orgasm was looming somewhere near, but it felt like the pleasure of your own hand was not enough. Bateman, as if he could read your mind, suddenly lifted you up by your shoulders, made you straddle him, and in the next moment you let him impale you on his thick cock, giving you the abundance you thought you had lost forever. A loud shriek echoed off the marble walls of the bathroom, a sound that made Patrick grin even more arrogantly as he knew that no one but him could make you feel complete.

He fucking knew it.

Groaning, the man grabbed your hips and set the pace, and at some point you found yourself riding him with pure abandon, literally bouncing on his beefy cock. "A-ahhh, Patrick, yes! Fuck-fuck me, just like that!" You mewled into his ear as he spanked your ass, squeezed your buttocks and spread them. "Mmhm…holy…shit…"

Another slap made you tremble on his lap. "So fucking needy for me," Bateman purred in a husky voice, his hair a mess, you managed to undo his bow tie and several top buttons to stroke his bulging chest. "Argh, you gonna make me cum, babe."

With that, he began to thrust his hips up, meeting yours with a shameless slapping sound. Dumbfounded, you were also so close, but you wanted him to fall first. Passionately rocking back and forth, you wrapped your hands around his neck, catching him off guard.

"You…you missed me just like I missed you…" That was more a statement than a question but the man didn't say anything, he just nodded with his eyes closed as he was completely lost in the embrace of incoming rapture. "SAY IT!" You nearly beat him into his chest. "Say…it…you bastard!"

Your crying compelled him to open his brown eyes which now were so dark, you could draw in them. "Yeah…" Each word was so hard for him to pronounce as his hips began to shake. "…I…I've missed you…too!" Patrick had to hide his face into the crook of your neck and before you knew it, the man bit into your soft flesh to the point of blood.

"A-AWWW, PATRICK!" You whimpered when you felt him exploding inside of you, shooting his hot load and sinking his teeth even deeper, holding you tightly in his strong arms.

"Shhh," the man strived to shush you, licking the fresh wound on your throat. "Just…take it…"

Still trembling, Bateman squeezed your hips so painfully, that you instinctively tried to pull away but he didn't allow you to. Sobbing, you cursed yourself for forgetting how rough he could be or…maybe you simply didn't know about this side of him? By the time Patrick stopped shaking, you were pumped with his seed till the brink, it was pouring out, staining the furniture beneath you, but no one cared. You sat like that for a moment until you began to move again as you still didn't reach your climax. With every buck of your hips against his, you hoped he would understand what you were asking for, but as soon as you reached out to kiss him, the man indifferently pulled away, tapping on your hip.

"Get up," Patrick commanded you, a bit annoyed.

"W-what?"

Bateman didn't repeat, taking you off from his lap before standing up on his feet and zipping his pants. Lost and confused, you sat on the floor, watching him sliding his hair back, opening the faucet and cleaning his face.

What the fuck was that?

"Bateman?" You stammered, finding yourself in the most humiliating position ever.

"You better clean yourself up, too," he commented briefly without looking at you, his voice drenched in venom. "You don't want the guests to think someone brought a hooker here, do you?"

Furrowing your brows, you ran a hand down your tear streaked cheek. "You're going to stop talking to me like that, or…"

"Or what?"

Anger and despair mixed together in a cocktail of pure madness. You wanted to fucking beat this man until he begged for mercy, but unfortunately, it was you sitting on the cold floor with your bare ass, his cum flowing shamelessly between your thighs.

"Fucking scumbag!" You yelled, picking up your shoe to throw it at him, but he quickly moved aside. "You're going to regret this…pathetic…"

Bateman started to say something but was distracted by several female voices. He checked himself in the mirror for the last time and finally spared you with his pitiful look. "You're going to walk around my WEDDING with my SEED inside you. Maybe you should look in the mirror and think about who's really pathetic in this room?"

And then he left.

Being left like that has set your body on fire, your nervous system was on the verge of bursting, but you managed to pull yourself together, gritting your teeth to suppress a loud scream. You felt nauseous, the bite on your neck was bleeding and aching, you were even afraid to touch it. Knowing that the door was now unlocked, you couldn't sit there any longer, so you gathered all the strength you had left to pull yourself up and get dressed. Then you slowly moved to the place where Patrick had been standing moments ago…but it felt like it had been so long ago, as time had stopped. After you cleaned yourself, you were really lucky to find a first aid kit, so you managed to clean your wound as well.

The ceremony had already begun when you finally decided to leave the bathroom. Dazed, you stumbled around like you were drunk. You couldn't remember how you found your way to the main event, where a large altar awaited the newlyweds.

All the guests were in their seats, and you moved stealthily, trying not to attract unwanted attention. The last row of chairs was almost empty, and when you suddenly recognized Timothy Bryce, lonely sitting there, you didn't hesitate to sit next to him.

"Well, well, well," you mused, a little cheered up. "Hello, Bryce."

The dark-haired man almost jumped in his seat when he saw you. "Jesus Christ, (y/n)? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Mmhm, Evelyn invited me."

Timothy visibly grew sadder. " Right…she probably tried to invite all the people in New York."

This sudden change in his demeanor confused you. "Tim? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

The music began to play exactly when you opened your mouth to ask some more curious questions. Soon, the priest and several other people appeared in the alley. They walked up to the altar, everyone around was excited to see the main stars of this event. And as if that were not enough, some women in front of you began to cheer so loudly that you had to cover your ears.

"Stupid bitches." Tim grumbled as he sat back.

"Craig and David…where are they?"

Bryce pointed to other seats that were almost next to the altar. "They're with their chicks and they want the best seats."

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, avoiding craning your neck when it wasn't needed because it still hurt. "I see…and I thought they were doing coke without you."

"They did."

"Really? And what about you?"

The man sighed. "No coke is enough to get lost."

Now it was even stranger.

Another loud reaction from the guests signaled that something was starting to happen. You have to stand up a little to see the tall figure moving down the alley—it was Bateman, looking like he was not the one who fucked you in the small bathroom an hour ago. The way he smiled at the guests made you want to puke. Timothy noticed your trepidation and narrowed his eyes curiously.

"Are you okay?" He asked, not paying attention to what was happening near the altar. "You look unhealthy."

"I… I'm fine, it's just… it's very hot in here." You wanted to loosen your collar, but then you remembered the bite, so you had to sit like that.

In a few minutes the music changed and then Evelyn appeared, accompanied by her father who led her to the altar where Patrick was waiting for her. You held your breath and bit the inside of your cheek, but you forced yourself to look at the way Bateman took Evelyn's hands in his, touching them with absolute tenderness. A single drop of sweat trickled down your forehead and you probably intended to chew your cheek until it bled, but you didn't care. Nothing mattered now, nothing could hurt you, you felt like a ghost destined to walk the earth in search of its salvation. Only when the priest said that the newlyweds could kiss now, you turned away and so did Tim.

When the official part of the ceremony was over, Patrick and Evelyn walked out of the room towards an unknown destination, you and Bryce just sat there, not even talking, just sitting, as if you had nowhere to go.

"I'll get us some drinks." Timothy suddenly rumbled and stood up as quickly as the idea had occurred to him.

You didn't even have a chance to answer. You closed your eyes and rubbed your face tiredly when you heard a child's voice next to you. Turning sideways, you opened your eyes to see a little girl with a small bag in her hands. "Oh, hi…could you please repeat what I need to do?"

The girl smiled and opened the bag in an inviting gesture. "Pull your hand in and choose your destiny advice!" Giggling, you did as she said. Soon you were unfolding a small piece of paper. "What does it say?" The girl asked with undisguised curiosity.

After you rolled up the paper completely, you could read the text. "Find the courage to face your destiny." You swallowed nervously, on the verge of tears again.

"You didn't like it?" The little girl asked you, her face turning sad as well.

"No! Of course not, thank you very much!" You tried to smile. "You're so sweet, thank you!"

The girl suddenly hugged you. "Please don't be sad!"

And with that, the little child picked up her bag and ran to another person, doing the same thing she did to you. Nervously holding the piece of paper in your sweaty hands, you reread the text until several wet stains appeared on the paper. 'I am such a fool.' Wiping away tears, you heard several footsteps behind you. 'God, what if it's him?'

Excited, you turned to see Tim holding two cocktails. "They don't have anything strong."

You took the drink and watched Bryce sitting next to you. "Thanks Tim."

"No problem," he took a sip before looking at the piece of paper in your hands. "What is this?"

"Uh, nothing, just a childish game." You mumbled and took a sip of your cocktail.

After a minute of total silence, Timothy suddenly rested his arm on the back of his chair. "You know, maybe some coke is not such a bad idea after all," he looked at you, his dull eyes now glinting with a mischievous spark. "And since you're here… do you have any plans?"

"No," you replied frankly. "I… I have no plans, Bryce."

Nodding to himself, the man sat a little closer. "What about you coming to my place?"

Fidgeting in your chair, you wanted to turn to face him, but instead you hissed in pain, how crazy must the man be to leave such a mark? You crumpled the piece of paper in your fist and felt your nails digging into your skin, but still no pain came.

"Why not?" You finally replied, giving Bryce a smile he couldn't ignore as he smiled back.

'When one door closes, another always opens.' Was that what the taxi driver told you yesterday? A quote that had made you cringe in skepticism now played with different colors. But in the end, life was a good thing, even when you thought it was not.

Right?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[10yrsyart]

i struggle recreating the beauty the Holy Spirit shows me musically, with the limitations of my art. He always surprises me though, and i'm humbled at how lovely it turns out, despite me. but even so, nothing can compare.. nothing can convey the beauty of the Lord.

the most beautiful Being in the universe, our Creator, came down to be one of us and shed His blood for us. He knew we couldn't pay our sin debt ourselves, and He loved us so much He became the payment in our place. but death couldn't defeat Him and He rose on the third day.

it's only through faith in Jesus Christ and His blood that we're set free. He promises eternal life to all who believe in Him, and He's coming very soon to take us home. He is the only one worthy of praise; the only one Just and Loving and True enough to trust your life with. He will never betray you or abandon you. He has loved you unto the ends of the earth. don't wait to accept Him, time is almost up! ✝🕊

"And this is the way to have eternal life- to know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, the one You sent to earth. I brought glory to You here on earth by completing the work You gave Me to do. Now, Father, bring Me into the glory We shared before the world began." (John 17:3-5)

transcript:

Holy, Holy, Holy God Almighty

Holy, Holy, Holy God Almighty

Praise the Exalted Holy God

Maker of all the earth and the sky

Holy, Holy, King of Glory

Worship the Son of God Jesus Christ

Glory to the Holy Spirit will rise

You deserve all the honor

You're the One we call the True Almighty God

You're the One we call the True Almighty God

You're the One we call the True Almighty God

You're the One we call the True Almighty God

Praise the Exalted Holy God

Maker of all the earth and the sky

Holy, Holy, King of Glory

Worship the Son of God Jesus Christ

Glory to the Holy Spirit will rise

You deserve all the honor

You're the One we call the True Almighty God

You're the One we call the True Almighty God

You're the One we call the True Almighty God

You're the One we call the True Almighty God

Holy, Holy, Holy, Holy, Holy

Holy, Holy, Holy, God Almighty

Holy, Holy, Holy, God Almighty

You're the One we call the True Almighty God

“I Am the Alpha and the Omega- the beginning and the end,” says the Lord God. “I Am the One Who is, Who was, and Who is still to come- the Almighty One.” -Revelation 1:8

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Hi since I know Sanji is your husband ; how about A , b , I , k , l for him please 💗 👀😈

It's funny, even though he's my husband, I almost never write him as a yandere lol

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

God, how doesn't he show his affection? He's always got a hand on you when he isn't cooking, he acts as if you'll perish if he doesn't kiss you every five minutes, he's constantly doing your work for you, and, of course, he makes all of your meals and snacks. You don't have to lift a finger with him around. On top of that, you don't go a day without him singing your praise or showering you with compliments.

He's also a big fan of taking you shopping. He loves to pick out new clothes for you that he thinks will further add to your beauty. Anything that you so much as glance at will be yours.

The never ending onslaught of love and affection is suffocating to say the least. Sanji loves intensely. He's desperate to make you feel loved, and it never occurs to him that he's going too far or that you may not even want it.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

There is nothing that he won't do in the name if protecting his darling. He doesn't care how messy it gets so long as that means that you'll be out of harm's way. He will try to make it quick, though. Not out of mercy, but because he wants to get back to you as soon as possible.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

This man is constantly fantasizing about his future with you, and he has no problem telling you about it. As much as he loves being a part of the Straw Hats, he does want to find a place to settle down with you after Luffy has become the pirate king and the crew has decided to retire from piracy. Ideally, this home would be in the All Blue and be a floating craft that doubles as a restaurant like the Baratie. He talks ceaselessly about how much fun it will be to decorate it with you and make it your home. Any opposition you have to this is severely downplayed or misinterpreted into something else entirely because Sanji is the reigning king of being delusional.

More likely than not, you guys will be married within a year of meeting. Sanji is desperate to be your husband and spends all of your relationship trying to prove to you what a good husband he will be. Can't you see how doting and caring he is? Doesn't that make you want to grow old with him?

Sanji is extremely eager to have children. Like having a baby before the first anniversary levels of excitement. Every time he sees a child in public or you interact with one, he's dropping very blatant hints about you two having one of your own some day. You two will have children some day, it's an inevitability. And refusal on your part is taken as you just being nervous and needing a little persuasion.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He acts completely whipped. He's the most lovesick man the world has ever seen. The man will kiss your feet if you don't kick him away. He's constantly finding any opportunity he can to hug and kiss you. If your back isn't to a wall, he's hugging you from behind and taking the opportunity to smell your hair.

Of course, he's also making you food around the clock. If you were skinny when you met him, you won't be for long. He acts as if hearing your stomach growl is what failure sounds like. You get an extra large portion for each meal, and he's constantly bombarding you with snack in between meals.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He comes on strong and unrelenting. You're his beloved, perfect god(dess), and he is not going to let you slip between his fingers. He gets you extravagant bouquets every time you're on land, and he'll usually buy you a few other gifts while he's at it. He'll wax poetic about how perfect you are and how much he loves you for hours on end. You're under a full frontal assault of love bombing with no end in sight. This is also the point when he starts doing the food thing mentioned in the previous letter.

[vanillawurld]

༊*·˚Sensación del Bloque

✧.* Pair - Joost Klein x Fem! Reader

✧.* Tags & Warnings - fluff and cussing ig

✧.* Summary - Joost finds out about his friend's new neighbor and doesn't act upon introductions until he sees her in all of her beauty.

✧.* Extra- a couple things... reader is implied to be latina, implied to have a more tanner/browner/darker complex, and reader is going to have acrylic nails and gold jewelry cuz those are my favorite things in the world rn… also i dont speak dutch so the highlighted parts are the ppl speaking dutch. ALSOO reader has a place holder smell (vanilla) but yall can change it if you want ALSOOO reader doesn’t speak dutch okay im done now

✧.* Word Count - 1,319

Joost always enjoyed meeting new people. It always allows him to share his work with others. He can be shy about his work but it's inevitable for people to know about him and his art. People never know when they are going to meet someone new unless it's planned.

Just like any other day for an artist, Joost was working with his friend, Antu, on the production of some beats for a new song in his friend’s apartment. “Man, I'm kind of hungry I'm not going to lie,” Antu randomly said, taking his eyes off his computer to look at Joost. They’ve been working on beats since the morning and being too focused on work, they forgot about the basic essentials a human body needs. Food.

“Well, what do you want to get? I don’t feel like driving so pick a place near here,” Joost replied.

Joost felt like it was an eternity letting Antu pick a fast food place. When he finally decided where to get food, they placed an order through the phone for pick up and waited. It was a quiet couple of minutes of waiting until Antu broke the silence, “I got a new neighbor”

“Seriously?”

“Yup. I’ve been trying to talk to her but she kind of ignores me. Like she’s playing hard to get,” Antu shared.

Joist gave him a confused look, “I thought you were talking to Sofie. Did you guys stop talking or something?”

Antu looked at Joost, “No… Im still talking to Sofie but that doesn’t mean im taken,” he said, making Joost roll his eyes.

“Do you know where she moved from?” Joost asked

Antu shrugged, “I heard some of the other neighbors say she’s not from Europe though. Probably somewhere in the Americas.”

A couple of minutes rolled by and Joost decided to start making his way to the place to pick up the food they ordered. He walked out of the apartment and checked his phone to see if the order was complete. While he was checking, he heard the next door open and was met by the most gorgeous looking woman he has ever seen. that must’ve been the new neighbor Antu was talking about.

She was gorgeous. everything about her screamed “goddess”. Her hair, her makeup, her jewelry, her nails everything. Joost didn’t wanna stare, but it was hard not to. The way her hair hugged the frame of her face. The way her flawless makeup sat. The way her gold jewelry reflected on her skin. The way her acrylic nails made her hands look pretty. He was able to smell her sweet vanilla scent from where he was at. something about her, made him intrigued to know her, even though this was the first time he was seeing her.

The woman was trying to look for something in her purse and seemed like she was struggling. She ended up giving up and started walking towards the elevator past him, but what she didn’t notice was that she dropped a euro. Joost saw this and thought that God was giving him a huge opportunity to talk to her. He picked up the euro and prepared himself.

“Excuse me ma’am” she ignored him “Ma’am, excuse me” she ignored him again. He got closer to her and thats when she turned around to face him. She felt his presence. Joost was even more nervous than he was. He was up close to her and felt his body go weak. “You dropped this, ma’am” he said to her.

She gave him a confused look at first and looked at his hand that had the euro note. “Is this… mine?” she said in a confused tone. From that short moment, Joost figured out why Antu couldn’t talk to her. She didn't speak Dutch. Joost didn’t know how Antu didn’t know since he said himself that she wasn’t from Europe.

“Oh, sorry! Yes this is yours. You dropped it.” Joost said in English.

He handed her the euro and gave her a nervous chuckle. She smiled back and gently took it from him. “Thank you so much,” she said to him. Her voice was heaven to Joost’s ears.

“No, problem,” he said. She started walking away, but Joost didn’t want her to. He didn’t want to stop talking to her. He wanted more from her. “Um, ma’am” he grabbed her attention again, “did you just move here?”

“I did. 2 months ago.” she replied, “im still trying to figure out where places are and stuff. Im trying to find a good clothing store near by.”

More opportunities were coming to the Dutch artist and he didn’t want them to go to waste. “Oh, I know a bunch of stores around here. I was actually about to head out to pick up some food from a place that’s around a lot of good clothing stores. If you want we can walk together around that place,” he exclaimed.

The woman gave him a smile and a smooth giggle, “You’re sweet, but im going to pass. I want to learn on my own.”

Joost was slightly disappointed but he couldn’t complain. “W-Well if you ever need any help, im always at my friends place working, stop by anytime,” he suggested.

She nodded and continued walking, but Joost called her out again. “Uh, ma’am?” she turned around to look at him, “Can I get your name? My name is Joost” he held out his hand for her to shake.

She looked down at his hand and back at him. “Everyone here is so nice,” she commented, “My name is (Y/N),” she said while taking out her hand to shake his. Joost was analyzing every detail about her. The way she talked, the way she dressed, her smooth hand, everything. As she walked away, she turned around one last time to tell him, “I like your outfit by the way.”

He watched the way her hips swayed as she walked and was enamored. Joost smiled almost like a dork. He felt extremely giddy inside like he could jump up high like they would in those corny musicals about high school. His moment was cut short though, when Antu opened the door. “Dude, where’s the food?” he said.

“Shit, sorry. I’ll go get it right now,” Joost said while taking out his wallet.

Antu looked to his side and saw his new neighbor walking towards the elevator. He immediately connected the dots. “Bro, don’t tell me you managed to talk to her,” he questioned, but by the way Joost was smiling, he already got his answer. “Please tell me your secret, i’m being dead ass,” Antu said.

From the moment that left Antu’s mouth, Joost wanted to gate keep. He didn’t want to tell him that (Y/N) doesn’t speak Dutch she he bullshitted, “You just got to have personality to pull someone like her.”

Anti rolled his eye, “Alright calm down, buddy. I will say you are lucky though. i’ve seen men basically line up outside to see her go out because she’s always going out. Didn’t think she’d talk to a boy white as you.”

“Okay, fuck you.” Joost replied. He was shocked by what Antu said though. Having men line up for a woman who is new to the country is crazy.

“Dude, she’s basically the street sensation. You are extremely lucky to even talk to her. I’ve seen her ignore so many people. Don’t know how you did it,” Antu commented before closing the door to his apartment.

Whatever spell (Y/N) put on Joost, it was working hard. he wanted to know more about her. Where she was from, who she was, but he needed to wait. He would wait until his death to know about her. He couldn’t wait to see more of her. This was the first woman to ever make him desperate for more and it wasn’t driven by lust.

˖◛. *. ⋆ Vanilla Speaks

this was a little something... where my Latina Joost Klein bitches at

[blondgirls-world]

57 Reasons

TW: Meanspo

01. You will be FAT if you eat today, just put it off one more day.

02. You don't NEED food.

03. Fat people can't fit everywhere.

04. Guys will be able to pick you up without struggling.

05. You'll be able to run faster without all that extra weight holding you back.

06. People will remember you as "the beautiful thin one".

07. If someone has to describe you, they'll say "oh she weighs like 90, 100 lbs".

08. Guys will want to get to know you, not laugh at you and walk away.

09. Starving is an example of excellent willpower.

10. You will be able to see your beautiful, beautiful bones.

11. Bones are clean and pure. Fat is dirty and hangs on your bones like a parasite.

12. If you eat then you'll look like those disgusting, fat, ghetto and trailer-trash hookers on Jerry Springer.

13. The models that everyone claims are beautiful, the spitting image of perfection, are any of them fat? NO!

14. Too many people in the world are obese.

15. People who eat are selfish and unrealistic.

16. Only fat people are attracted to fat people. Do you want pigs to like you because you are one of them.

17. Anyone can have "inner beauty" but few can earn real beauty, inside as well as out.

18. You'll be able to move as quietly and skillfully as a spider.

19. Only thin people are graceful.

20. If you slap a fat person you can see a shockwave ripple over their skin. That's disgusting.

21. Do you want people to say "for gods sake get off me you're crushing me!!!" or "you are sooo light" ???

22. Underweight aka perfect body.

23. Ballerina? or beanbag?

24. I want to be light enough so a helium balloon could lift me and carry me to the clouds.

25. I want to walk in the snow and leave no footprints.

26. Starve off the parts you don't need. They're ugly and they drag you down.

27. Nothing cant be fixed with hunger and weight loss.

28. Saying "no thanks" to food is saying "yes please" to THIN!!!

29. Fat people are so huge, yet people look away from them as if they don't exist.

30. The only time people do notice a fat person is when they get in the way of that beautiful thin girl walking by (ok that sounds really horrible i know.)

31. Have you ever seen a person NOT notice a walking skeleton.

32. Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.

33. Is food more important that happiness in life? I think not!

34. Eating is conforming to everyone else's expectations.

35. When you start to get dizzy and weak you're almost there.

36. Hunger is your friend and it won't betray you like food.

37. Food is mean and sneaky. It tricks you into eating it and it works on you from the inside out making you fat, bloated, ugly and unhappy.

38. Think of anorexia as your secret weapon.

39. If you can name one reason to be fat, I'll name a million and one to be thin.

40. Thin people look good in ANY kind of clothes.

41. Food rots your teeth.

42. Puffy cheeks, double chins and thick ankles-- aren't attractive.

43. Fatty areas stretch and sag as you get older.

44. Ever seen the arms of a fat person wave hello or goodbye?

45. Eating little to nothing saves you money!

46. The average (middle class) American wastes OVER $8,000 a year on FOOD ALONE...it goes in one end and out the other. That sure is a lot of fat! No wonder so many Americans are obese and overweight!

47. Fat people make their country look bad.

48. Big people sweat more and they smell bad.

49. Fat people die earlier.

50. You'll be the envy of all the other girls.

51. All of the guys will want you.

52. You're less likely to get food poisoning.

53. You won't be exposed to all the chemicals and pesticides they put in food today.

54. You won't get sweaty on hot days.

55. The word fat will only apply to you in a sarcastic way.

56. No one wants to see a fat person dance.

57. Beauty Queen? or Dairy Queen?

-Fading Obsession: Pro Ana Mia Website plus Forum (fadingobsessions.com)

[communicationthroughlyrics]

Red Wine and Roses

You just got home from a long day at work, excited to see your girlfriend, Lizzie. You anticipated her being busy making dinner for the both of you to kickstart your weekend, as per tradition. When you finally get home, she isn't making dinner- no. She has dessert ready for the main course.

TW: Smut, smut, and more smut. 18+ ONLY.

As you trudge up the steep hill toward your cozy little apartment, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement in your chest. Today was long and tiring, but it's all worth it. Because at the end of the day, one person is waiting for you, who makes all the stress and exhaustion fade away with just a smile. Your girlfriend, Lizzie, or Elizabeth Olsen as she is known to the world, and your bi-weekly Friday date night, where you both put away the phones, disconnect from the outside world and enjoy each other’s company over one of Liz’s homemade meals. She's the light in your life, the beat of your heart, and the breath in your lungs. The thought of seeing her face, her beautiful, familiar features, makes you quicken your pace, almost running up the final stretch of the hill.

You burst through the door, tossing your keys onto the entryway table, and almost trip over your own feet as you're met with darkness. Confused, you walk through the kitchen, seeing she is truly nowhere. But then you hear the faint panting coming from your bedroom, and your heart races as you worry about what you are about to walk in on.

You follow the sound, rounding the corner and finding Lizzie on her hands and knees in the center of the bedroom, dressed in a black lace bodysuit that hugs every curve, her long, dark hair falling around her face in a sexy mess. One hand is buried between her legs, her fingers knuckle deep within her wet sloshing heat, and the sounds filling the room from her arousal only further stimulated you. You groaned at the sight, quickly loosening your tie and unbuttoning your shirt. 

"Oh, you bad girl..." you groan as you head over to the bed where she lay, eyes pinched shut. You kneel beside her, reaching out to brush a lock of hair away from her cheek. She looks up at you through lust-filled eyes, her lips parted as she pants for air. "You've been so naughty, haven't you? You couldn’t even wait for dinner.” You tease, gently tracing a finger along her lower lip.

She nods eagerly, arching her back as her hips buck forward into her hand. "Oh, please..." she whispers, her voice shaking with desire. You can feel the heat emanating from her body, and you can't help but admire how she's taken control of this situation. Lizzie has always been such a tease, but tonight she's taken it to a whole new level.

Without further hesitation, you reach out and gently push her hand away from her aching core. "No more," you growl, your voice husky with lust. "It's my turn." She lets out a moan of protest, but you ignore it, instead guiding her to lie down on the bed. She writhes beneath you, her body thrumming with need as you undo your pants, freeing the strap you had put on in anticipation for tonight. The toy springs free, ready for her. You grin down at her, enjoying the way she looks at you with such desire, and position yourself between her legs. "Are you sure you want this?" You ask, teasingly, as you stroke the length of the fake cock against her wet folds.

She gasps, arching her back off the bed, her nails digging into your shoulders. "Please," she breathes, her hips bucking up to meet your thrust. "I need it." You can feel the heat radiating off her, and the way she's panting for you, begging for release. You press the head of the toy against her entrance, feeling her body tighten in anticipation. With a growl, you thrust it inside her, filling her up with the cold, silicone length.

Her nails scrape down your back, her hips moving in time with yours, urging you deeper. You lose yourself in the feel of her body, the tightness of her around you, the wet heat that envelops you as you begin to move. You glance down at her face, watching her expression as she comes, her mouth open in a silent scream, her eyes squeezed shut. You can't help but smile as she writhes beneath you, her body shuddering with pleasure.

Her movements grow more frenzied as she feels herself getting closer and closer to the edge. You feel the tension as her inner walls grip the toy tightly, her muscles tensing and releasing in time with her gasps and moans. You can tell she's about to explode, and with one final thrust, you feel her body tense and shudder as she comes undone. Her cries echo through the room, filling your heart with warmth.

You slow your movements, taking in the sight of her flushed face and sweaty body. She looks up at you through heavy-lidded eyes, her lips still parted from the exertion. You can feel the warmth emanating from her core, where the toy is still buried deep inside. "You're so beautiful when you come," you whisper, brushing a stray hair away from her damp forehead.

She lets out a shaky breath, her hands moving to your shoulders as she pulls you closer. "That was... intense," she whispers, her voice still unsteady. "I didn't think I could take any more." You smile down at her, feeling a rush of satisfaction at the way she's responded to you. You begin to rock your hips gently, careful not to push too deep just yet.

Her eyes flutter closed, her lips parted as she takes in a deep breath. "You feel so good," she whispers, her hands curling into the sheets beneath her. "I never thought..." She trails off, lost in the sensation of your skin moving against hers. You can feel her body begin to relax, her muscles softening as she lets go of the tension from earlier.

You continue to rock your hips, matching your movements to hers, feeling the warmth between your bodies grow as you become more intimate. Her breath hitches as you brush against a particularly sensitive spot inside her, and she arches her back off the bed, her fingernails digging into your shoulder. "Oh, god," she gasps, her hips moving in time with yours. "Don't stop."

Her words fuel your desire, driving you deeper into the sensation of being connected to her. You can feel the strength of your arousal building, the need to release it growing with each passing moment. You glance down at her, watching her face as she looks up at you, her eyes glassy with desire.

Her body moves with yours, her hips meeting your thrusts in perfect rhythm. Her nails dig into your back, leaving trails of pleasure and pain that only serve to heighten the sensation for both of you. You can feel her body tensing, preparing for the release that's building within her.

You look down at her face, watching as she bites her lip, her eyes half-closed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. You slow your movements, taking in the sight of her flushed skin and sweat-dampened hair. She looks up at you, her expression a mix of desire and vulnerability that makes your heartache.

With a groan, you thrust deep inside her, feeling the tightness of her body as she wraps herself around you. Her nails scrape down your back, her hips moving in time with yours, urging you deeper. You can feel the tension building within her, the anticipation of release coiling tightly in her core.

You press your lips to hers, feeling the warmth of her breath against your skin. Her tongue darts out, seeking entry to your mouth, and you eagerly let her in, tasting the sweetness of her as you move together. Her body arches beneath you, her fingers digging into your shoulders as she comes undone.

Her cries fill the room, echoing off the walls as her body shudders with pleasure. You feel the ripples of her orgasm through your own body, and with a growl, you follow her over the edge. Your release is intense, your thrusts becoming erratic as you lose yourself in the sensation of being so deeply connected to her.

You collapse on top of her, panting, your heart racing. Her arms are wrapped around you, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure. You feel the weight of your exhaustion settling heavily upon you, but you're not ready to let go quite yet. You roll to the side, pull her into your embrace, and close your eyes, savoring the warmth of her skin against yours.

You feel a contentment spread through you that you haven't experienced in a long time. The world outside this room seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you, connected in this moment. Her breathing slowly begins to steady, and you can feel the tension slowly leaving her body. You gently stroke her hair, tracing idle patterns on her shoulder.

"That was... intense," she whispers, her voice still slightly shaky. "I can't remember the last time I felt... like that."

You press a tender kiss to her forehead, reluctant to break the silence that has fallen between you. "Me neither," you admit, knowing that it's true. There's something special about her, about this connection that you share. You don't want to think about what happens when this is over when she has to go back to her life and you're left alone again.

She turns her head to look at you, her eyes meeting yours. "Thank you," she says simply. "For everything."

"I love you," you whispered.

"I love you more, Y/N. You're my world."

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had expected her to be grateful, of course, but hearing the sincerity in her voice makes it all the more real. You want to say something, anything to make this moment last forever, but the words catch in your throat. Instead, you press your lips to hers, hoping that the passion you feel will convey everything that you can't find the words for.

Her lips part beneath yours, and you feel a shiver run through her body as you deepen the kiss. Her hands move up to cup your face, her fingertips trailing lightly over your cheeks and into your hair. She pulls you closer, their bodies molded together once more as if they were always meant to be this way.

The room spins, and for a moment, you're lost in the sensation of her lips against yours. It feels like the rest of the world has faded away, leaving only the two of you and the connection that binds you together. As the passion between you reaches a fever pitch, you realize that you don't want it to end, that you never want to be apart from her again.

Her body arches beneath yours, her breath hitching in her throat as she moans into your mouth. Her nails scrape down your back, leaving tiny trails of pain that only serve to heighten the pleasure coursing through your veins. She's soft and warm, and every touch only intensifies the need that you feel deep within.

You pull away from the kiss, gazing down at her flushed face and beautiful eyes. You can see the desire in her expression, the need for you that mirrors your own. You trail your fingers lightly down her neck and over her collarbone, feeling the soft skin beneath your fingertips.

She gasps as you brush against a particularly sensitive spot, arching her back further and pressing herself closer. Her hips begin to move of their own accord, seeking the contact she craves. You follow her lead, guiding the strap against her wetness, feeling the heat of her body against yours.

Her lips find your neck, and she begins to kiss and nip at your skin, her breath hot against your flesh. You can feel the need growing inside of her, building with each passing moment, and you know that you're just as close to the edge as she is. You slide your hand between them, guiding her over the swollen head of your toy, feeling her wetness as she spreads her desire around you.

She looks up at you, her eyes dark and heavy-lidded, and you can see the anticipation in every line of her body. You can feel the tension building inside of you, the need to be inside her, to feel the connection that only their bodies can create.

You push forward, the head of your strap pressed against her entrance. She gasps, arching her back further, her hands moving up to grip your shoulders as she prepares for the invasion of her body. She lets out a moan that is both pained and pleasure, and you know that she feels it too.

Her nails dig into your shoulders as she meets your rhythm, her hips moving in time with yours, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. You look down at her face, watching as she bites her lip, her eyes half-closed, her skin flushed with desire. You can feel the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment, and you know that there's no going back from this.

You press deeper, feeling her body move against yours, her tightness surrounding you like a glove. Her cries fill the room, echoing off the walls as she comes undone beneath you. You feel the ripples of her orgasm through your own body, and with a groan, you follow her over the edge. Your release is intense, your hips bucking wildly as you stutter the toy into her.

Her nails dig into your back, her legs wrap around your hips, and her body arches into you as she meets your climax. You collapse on top of her, panting, your heart racing. Her breath comes out in shuddering gasps as she tries to catch her own, her skin flushed with a mix of pleasure and exhaustion.

You pull out of her, rolling to the side so that you're lying beside her. Her arm comes up to drape across your chest, her hand resting lightly on your stomach. You look down at her, taking in the softness of her skin, the curve of her breast, the way her hair falls across her face. You don't want to move, don't want this moment to end.

You feel a sense of contentment wash over you as if everything in the world has finally fallen into place. It's not just the physical connection that binds you to her, but the emotional one as well. You feel as though you've known her for lifetimes, as though you were always meant to be together.

She looks up at you, her eyes still heavy from their shared passion, and smiles. "That was... incredible," she breathes.

You nod, unable to find the words to adequately describe what just happened between you.

She reaches up, cupping your cheek in her hand. "Thank you," she whispers, her voice soft and sincere. "For being with me tonight." Her thumb gently strokes your cheekbone, sending shivers down your spine.

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I'm always here for you, Lizzie. You know that." You lean in, brushing your lips against hers in a gentle kiss. Her lips part, and you feel her tongue against yours, a tentative exploration that deepens the kiss. Your hands slide down her back, cupping her bottom, pulling her closer. You groan as she pulls away all too fast for your liking.

"Nuh uh, Y/N. Now we have a dinner to eat." You smirk at her comment.

"But, I thought you weren't supposed to have dessert before dinner?"

She laughs, the sound low and husky. "Well, I'm glad you think so. I hope you're still hungry after all that." You can feel the weight of her meaning behind the words, and it makes your heart race. 

You stand up and offer her your hand, pulling her to her feet. She links her fingers through yours, and the simple touch sends a rush of warmth through your body. You follow her into the kitchen, where she's set up a candlelit table with a platter of lasagna in the center. "Smells amazing," you tell her, leaning in to kiss her neck as she pours you some wine.

She shivers at the contact, her breath hitching. "Thanks. I hope it tastes as good as it smells." You take your seat across from her, savoring the way she looks in the candlelight. Her hair falls around her face in soft waves, and her eyes sparkle with excitement. As you begin to eat, the conversation flows easily between you, touching on the highlights of your day and your plans for the weekend. This life was all you could wish for. 

[genericpuff]

How should someone write for a comic? I want to start a comic but I’m a bit in the dark for how to write one

This is a very, VERY broad subject that, like the question of "how to draw comics", is very multi-faceted and impossible to tackle in one response. Especially because I myself also will not have all the answers.

What I will say is that regarding writing comics, let's say webcomics, it's not an uncommon thing in the slightest to see writers come into communities like /r/webtoons and ask for people to help them draw their passion project and to that I say... please don't LOL That's not to say that's what you were going to do at all, just wanted to throw that out there as an initial opening disclaimer. Ultimately the reality is that in webcomics, many of the people creating these projects are artists first and writers second (as one of those skillsets is way more accessible than the other), and already have their own passion projects that they're working on. So if you're going into purely writing comics, you're gonna need to manage your perspective on the industry and how it functions from a writer's POV rather than the POV of an artist who picked up writing as a consequence of wanting to get into comics.

That said, the beauty of writing comics is that, in general, it requires a lot less overhead than drawing a comic. That's not to say that it's necessarily easier, because god knows writing presents its own unique challenges, but writing a script generally takes less overhead and resources than turning that script into a comic. I can pump out 10 episodes of rough scripts for Rekindled in a day or two, with tweaking and editing along the way, but actually drawing those episodes takes weeks LMAO (and I wouldn't be able to pull off a lot of the stuff I do now without the help of my assistant @banshriek who not only provides a lot of expertise in drawing backgrounds, but lightens the workload in their help with shading and rendering! they also provide great feedback when it comes to the roughs stage <3)

So if you're starting out, just like the advice I give to budding webcomic artists, it's about starting. Build that experience, get some projects under your belt no matter the size or length that you can use to show your skills (and shop around for feedback from those willing to give it!), etc. Familiarize yourself with various genres, both writing AND reading! Like scripts for film, writing a comic script doesn't HAVE to come with the visuals even if that's the end goal, you don't HAVE to relegate yourself to finding an artist to draw your comic and then posting it online in the hopes it'll get seen. There's a lot that can be done with a simple comic script, whether it's sharing it to the world as is, adapting it to a novel, or pitching it to publishers/agents. Being a comic writer comes with a lot more flexibility in that way than being just a comic artist with no script (though, again, most indie comic artists will simply pick up writing to create their passion projects, it's a much bigger task for writers to pick up art for the sake of creating a comic).

Also establish your goals. Is your plan to write for some major industry some day? Or would you rather stick to writing for smaller productions? Just like with drawing webcomics, you should be setting your expectations in places that are reasonable to meet, rather than shooting for the top of the game right off the bat. If you're wanting to get into writing comics, your first major goal should be something like writing a complete script and NOT, say, getting to write for Marvel/DC lmao

As for the actual writing of comics, I highly recommend you read Scott McCloud's Understanding Comics, it delves into both the history and technical aspects of writing, drafting, and pitching comics in a very easy to understand way (it's a comic about making comics!)

Here are some other helpful resources I was sent by a pal recently that might also help familiarize you with the process of getting into the actual industry as a comic writer!

I hope this gives you at least a good place to start from! Again, it's ultimately a very broad topic that will vary from person to person (esp when it comes to the differences between genres and target demographics, ex. someone writing an action comic isn't likely going to use the exact same processes as someone who writes romance), but I hope this at least helps you find some direction in it all so you can establish your goals and start making steps in the direction you want to go in.

Good luck!!! <3