#vina writes: misc

[megumimania]

FEELINGS — art donaldson.

art never took losing well.

it always left him with pent up anger and frustration that he often took out on the poor rackets after each game, not stopping until the racket was a splintered, wiry mess.

but that all changed when he met you.

you were knowledgeable about tennis without having played a single game, giving pointers when needed. whilst many dismissed your tips due to their sheer arrogance and over confidence, art heard you out and eventually incorporated your tips into his games.

tennis to art was akin to a reflex, his style embodying the meticulousness and the grace of an ice skater or a swan. his tennis was enthralling to watch as he exuded a powerful gracefulness with every serve and every shot.

that’s probably why he took the losses so personally because in a sense by losing his matches he was letting you down, no matter how many times you reassured him that it was nothing of the sort.

“are you mad at me?” he opened his eyes, his gaze already meeting yours as you gently stroked his hair.

this was the art only you got to see.

doubtful, weak, soft—a world away from the stoic, focused man that was affectionately known by the media and everyone on the court as the lovechild of roger federer and novak djokovic or the future of tennis.

“no.” you replied and you meant it. you saw how the immense pressure of being great got to him, it corroded away at his innards, leaving him an empty vessel solely primed for tennis.

it was times like this that he was grateful for you. your humanity. your love. your heart.

it’s what kept him from dropping everything and deciding to live out the rest of his years off his winnings and sponsorships. the idea was always there but the fast paced nature of the tennis world never allowed it to be pondered for a single second.

maybe it was always supposed to be that way.

a mere thought.

he placed a chaste kiss on the back of your hand, rubbing it softly. “thank you.” he said, the words carrying more weight than he had expected. your gentle touches soothing him.

“for what?” you asked and in that moment art’s mind went blank. it wasn’t that you didn’t do a lot for him—you did.

but it was so hard to encompass all of that into a sentence. you deserved more than these half thought out declarations of love.

art was a man of few words and he was going to honour that. he took a shaky deep breath before looking at you with a small smile on his face.

“for everything.”

[armoredisopod]

New Event PV

New Operators

Catherine, 5* Welfare Artificer Supporter

This machine is a bit old, but it still runs like a champ.

Bobbing, 5* Ritualist Supporter

If anyone finds themselves shivering, please come closer to me.

Vina Victoria, 6* Arts Fighter Guard

"Victoria" ...I know a lot of people care more about this name, not me.

But so what? I'll make them accept it sooner or later.

The one thing they desire from me, that's what i'm going to smash into pieces.

Operator Outfits Update

4 new additions for the Witch Feast brand

Explosive Blue Flame - Blaze

Starry Night Sky - Bassline

Witch's Swing - Popukar

The Shadow of the Dark Moon - Degenbrecher (21 OP)

Announced outfit reruns

Series III and IV Witch Feast outfits (Kazemaru, Iris, Lee, Quercus, Whisperain, Fiammetta, Dorothy)

Epoque outfits of Vigil, Młynar, Bagpipe, Ashlock, Absinthe, Nearl the Radiant Knight, Rosmontis, Passenger, Honeyberry, Sora and W

Wingbreaker - Texas the Omertosa

Bloodline of Combat outfits of Skadi the Corrupting Heart and Specter the Unchained

~136 other outfits as part of Rhodes Island Fashion Review

Operator Modules Update

Catherine being part of the Artificer Supporter branch immediately gets her module

CRA-X module base effect increases the deploy limit of Catherine's devices by 1 and reduces their deploy cost

Bard Supporter branch gets 1 module type

Stainless and Horn get their second modules

The base effect of their new modules are unknown at the time of writing

Events and Stories

Ending A Grand Overture, A Victoria side story event

"The orphan of the late king returned to the homeland, and banished the demons as king"—— The tale of swords and kingship ends here, as Vina steps into the unknown beyond the pages of a book. Silent old kings and fairies in the shadows, the people who cry out and the old friends who look back, All waiting for her to make a choice, to step into a future.

Operator Archives update for Stainless, Bassline, Papyrus and Absinthe

Record Restore update for Il Siracusano

IS#5 expansion update, scheduled late October for CN

Misc Stuff

Added the ability to freely change the skill and module of support operators you borrow

Annihilation #28 - Cityway 66, annihilation mission with Come Catastrophes and Wakes of Vultures enemies and mechanics

[manypersons-writes]

manypersons writing masterlist

I’m inconsistent and horribly unorganized sooo I’m going to try this and see if it works. I’m going to give a brief description of each and some related tags

Aware

One of my first major works, Aware observes the death of the world through the eyes of Viviana Ati. Viviana goes on a quest with Kai Akani to at first for self preservation, but with time, it grows to be more than that

I wrote the first draft for Aware early 2017 and then did not finalize it until 2020 (Aware is a quarantine baby). The first draft is available on Wattpad here. I don’t advise reading it.

Status: Complete

Total Wordcount: 120k

Tags:

General: #Aware, #Aware Universe

Character tags: #Viviana Ati, #Kai Akani, #Harper Vina, #Niklas Alwin, #Caiden Pratilac

Unstable

As companion to Aware, Unstable features a parallel story to Viviana’s. Aldric Further is content in his sub-surface home. But he he has terrifying visions that cause him to accidentally volunteer to go on a mission and to live beyond the Underneath as a peace offering.

Unstable was originally written in the format of a screenplay under the title Unity back in 2018. In 2021, I revisited the concept and wrote Unstable. I never posted anything complete from this work, but I did share a lot of clipping as I went.

Status: First Draft (I’m terrified to edit this)

Current Wordcount: 114k

Tags:

General: #Unstable, #Unstable updates, #Aware Universe

Character tags: #Aldric Further, #Tylin Akani, #Zheo Zavier, #Jasper

The Sequel to Aware and Unstable: Santuari (?)

It’s in the working! My goal is to have a first draft of at least 100k written by the end of September. I haven’t been writing much lately because I don’t have an laptop anymore.

The Wordweaver

The Wordweaver is an attempt to paint a supposed utopia in which ones place in society is based solely on merit. Aldridge Bane has a choice to make which can have him leaving this perfect place in order to save his only living relation.

I started writing this by hand one day in 2017 in a blue notebook and I’ve revisited it now and then bit progress has been slowed due to my file for The Wordweaver being corrupted a while back.

Status: Half a first draft (I’m stuck…)

Current Wordcount: ???

Tags:

General: #The Wordweaver

Character tags: #Aldridge Bane

Why?

A kind of silly idea I had back in middle school where a society is ranked by the number of ys in one’s name. The story Why? follows Adere Alein as she realizes that this system is kind of messed up.

I spent an entire semester of school writing up a list of every name I could think of with a y in it. I currently have three chapters up on Wattpad here and the fourth is sitting in the draft. This is just a project I’ve been working on in my free time, so it’s sporadic when I work on it.

Status: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Current Wordcount: 3.5k

Misc.

I’ve written a lot of speeches and whatnot throughout this last year. Many of the below I have performed in competitions.

Shorts:

An Assassin’s Order

A Million Angers and Frustrations

Awakening

A Single Ship

I am You

The Life of Mallory Wesson

Time Management: Illustrated

Environmentally Challenged

Poems:

I am a Fly

This World was not made for People Like Me

The Secret Teller

Home

Cloud Language

To be Known

Circle Tunes

Nonfiction:

The Not-So-Hard Truth About GMOs

The Heist Story

[megumimania]

art is in his mid 40s, reader is in late 20s/early 30s, smut (18+), p in v sex, choking, art is hungry as fuck, use of petnames. @cindol this one is for you babes!!

“you alright sweetheart?”

his voice is what snaps you out of your writing frenzy.

art’s dressed in a polo and khaki set with his sunglasses on, a glass of bourbon sitting pretty in his left hand. his serving hand. you almost shiver as you remember the way his calloused hands brushed against the small of your back in passing.

he takes the seat next to yours, his knees slightly brushing yours as he peers over your laptop that is covered by post it notes that contain the editors tweaks and suggestions.

for the next ten minutes the only constant sound interrupting his midday zen was the aggressive sound of you hitting the space and backspace button on your laptop.

the sound of your frustration and stress is palpable and before you slam the backspace button again, he breaks the silence.

“you should take a break.” he offers, the concern evident in his voice and for a split second you consider it, toying with it in your mind. but then reality hits and you remember the editor's harsh emails and the final deadline that is just looming around the corner.

“i’d love to but i can’t.” you sighed giving him an apologetic smile, “first draft is due at the end of the week.”

art looked at you confused for a second before he realised what you were talking about. his memoir.

it was why you were here in the first place. you spent weeks on the road with him heading to every conference, game or whatever event he decided to show up to when his team wanted to remind the public he was still very much alive.

he thought it was a stupid idea at first, another cash grab for his management to seep their paws into but art wasn’t having it. the only way they managed to get him to say yes was if they brought an up and coming writer onto the project.

over time your presence was something he had gotten used to, even though you often felt like you were overstepping his boundaries by being in his home so often. you’d then remind yourself that you were contracted on a professional basis, to ghost write his memoir that you’ll be paid for, in both money and notoriety.

but when art woke up to the sound of your footsteps shuffling around in the kitchen or the sound of you typing away on his laptop on the patio, it made the house feel less like an investment and more like a home. after all it had been a couple of years since he’d had a woman stay longer than a night or a couple of hours at his home.

“c’mon you’ve been on that wretched thing all day, your eyes must be killing you huh?” he cajoles, another attempt to get you to hang out with him.

art takes another sip of his drink eyeing you once more, feeling grateful for the little bit of sun the hampshire’s decided to grace you all with today.

his eyes roam over your figure, not for too long though he doesn’t want to creep you out but he’s not blind. you are a stunning woman and he likes that you weren’t blind to that fact.

“you know you wanna, who knows maybe playing a quick tennis match, will get your creative juices flowing.” usually you’d decline but when he stares at you with those baby blues that haven’t dimmed with age, it sends a shiver down your spine.

his eyebrows wiggle, earning a groan from you but you relented, saving the file before closing your laptop and heading back to get changed into more suitable attire. who knows maybe stepping into his domain would help with your writer’s block right now.

tennis with art was not something easy, despite his graceful playing style he was an actual powerhouse on the court and you couldn’t keep up. 

“you’re tapping out already?” he grins, whilst you’re too busy catching your breath to respond. all you can muster is a middle finger to which he laughs at.

you realised in the end, that if you were gonna win, you had to resort to dirty tactics.

“god, it is so hot out here!” you said, fanning yourself whilst taking off your jacket to reveal your figure. you based the success rate of this tactic on art being a typical man with desires.

and it worked.

who knew a simple dress would throw art off kilter? his movements grew less refined and more messy as the game progressed, with you throwing him off his a-game. his eyes were glued to your bod, you used this to your advantage as you made the winning serve.

the ball whizzes past art and he is a second too late to hit it back. you drop the racket basking in the sunlight and your newfound victory.

it’s oddly quiet on his front, a professional like him that couldn’t show decent showmanship? it was nothing new in the world of tennis—arrogant athletes who saw accepting defeat as a bruise to their overinflated ego.

however the thoughts stewing in art’s mind cannot be expressed plainly, he drinks you in, an incubus-esque hunger taking over him. the way your body glistened in the sunlight as a light sheen of sweat covered you from head to toe, to the white attire that made you seem heaven sent.

oh he was spiraling.

it wasn’t like he could do casual relationships, he had a few fleeting ones post split with tashi but art’s hunger prevailed where his logic could not. he wasn’t satisfied with a simple night.

underneath that cold yet affable demeanour that he spent years working on and correcting, there was a part of him that required something more deeper, more intense.

“so what’s my reward?” you ask, still up on the high that beating art gave you.

he decides to indulge you in whatever you want—his desires can be suppressed for another day. last time he got you a new laptop for beating him in a game of pool. however he’s taken off guard when he feels your soft lips press against his own, stirring up a pot of desire in him that cannot be contained.

so when you end up on his plush bed with him above you, your dress bunched up to your stomach as he fucks you relentlessly without pause, you’re in bliss. the sounds of art’s gold medals, clinking against your stomach with each thrust sends shivers down your spine, the cool metal against your skin driving you insane.

art thinks you’re beautiful like this, all splayed out for him to see, adorned with several of his gold medals, that he has won in several championships like wimbledon and the us open. he knows he’s being mean, bullying your sweet cunt like this but he can’t help it.

he pulls you in by his medals dangling across your chest forcing you to look at the mess you’re making on his dick. “keep your eyes open sweetheart, i want you to see the mess you’re making.” he tells you, his voice smoother than his favourite bottle of bourbon.

you’re lost in it all, your mind reeling like a roll of film as he ruts into you like an animal in heat. he unleashes a slew of moans and groans against your ear, the vibrations driving you closer to your release.

“a-art, ‘s too much i can’t take it.” was all you managed to get out, a mangled sob escaping your lips.

in spite of your brain getting turning into mush each time art hit that sweet spot that set you alight. he looks down at you with a wicked grin, his voice taking on a faux sympathetic tone.

he pressed a kiss to your neck, maintaining his pace. “winner takes all, sweetheart.” he says with a chilling edge, that makes you clench around him as he buries himself deeper into you, stretching you out even more as he peppers kisses to your neck, leaving bites and hickeys that were sure gonna sting tomorrow.

and from the way things were going, it was safe to say that you weren’t completing that manuscript anytime soon.

not while art had you in his grasp anyway.

[megumimania]

DIFFERENT THIS TIME — spencer reid

synopsis: things are different this time when you finally understand why spencer has been acting off these past few weeks.

warnings/tags: angst, angst with a implied happy ending, improper use of drugs, addiction, spencer reid x social worker!reader, they’re friends and also neighbours, this is s8 and s2 reid at the same time in my head, whatever works for you. fluff/angst

a/n: my first piece for criminal minds! it’s angsty as hell forgive me but yeah, the title was inspired by a song of the same title by cornelia murr!

spencer has changed.

you are no fbi profiler but you can see the signs. he’s more shifty, more sercretive, he talks less, he eats less. spencer is more irritable than usual and it worries you.

sure you just may be worrying too much, it’s in your nature as a social worker to do so, but when you open the door to his apartment it is a mess. clothes and books are strewn across the floor, dishes and boxes of takeout piled up in the kitchen.

however in true spencer reid fashion they still have a semblance of order to them. you don’t bother trying to establish your own order within his own, so instead you take a snoop around.

his plants still look healthy, so it does look like he has been tending to something and it's not himself. the thought of that makes your heart pang a little. spencer was always the one helping others but in the one instance he had every right to be selfish and prioritise himself over work he didn't.

you figure it probably says more about his spirit and all but you're not here to do some soul searching. the curtains drawn haphazardly allow for a little bit of light to peek through in the otherwise dark apartment.

“spencer?” you call his name out into the void of his apartment, the sound reverberating around the place, the charms of the high ceilings that came pre built in his apartment. no response.

soft whimpers can be heard from the bathroom and you edge closer, not wanting to startle him so suddenly. you turn the doorknob and the sight that confronts you breaks you the most than any other case you’ve worked on.

he’s slumped against the bathtub, his sleeves rolled up revealing the track marks that he’s managed to hide with his vast array of cardigans and long sleeved shirts. all you can make out in his babbles are two names. one male, one female. a reminder of his extensive past that he revealed to you in bits and pieces.

the names don’t linger in your mind for long, not when he lies there helpless and his amber eyes remain vacant. your hands frantically search for a pulse, shaking when you press two fingers against his wrist. one beat after another but it’s weak and thready.

your head spins with things you should do, like the more rational choice of calling his friends, his family—hell even the hospital but even in his state, this would unfortunately open pandora’s box and you knew that spencer loved his job more than anything.

so when spencer rasps out a quiet “no” when you reach for his phone, you acquiesced. you helped him sit up right, his cold and clammy hands that slightly trembled sending a wave of sadness over you. this wasn’t the spencer you knew.

after a quick google search and several minutes of going back and forth with spencer, who looked like he’d rather eat glass than visit the hospital, you help him into bed, bundling him up the blankets that were on hand. the soup you made for him earlier, sits there uneaten but at least he ate the crackers and cheese.

you’re thankful for the small victories.

even though you wanted to give him some space, it didn’t stop you from periodically checking his vitals just in case there was a sudden change. spencer was grateful for you checking in on him it made this part less harder than it needed to be.

“please stay,” he calls out his voice quiet, trying to hide the desperation and loneliness in his voice but it comes in the form of a broken plea, from a broken man.

you figured that you could get to your apartment and back in no less than 15 minutes to grab your laptop and other essentials in order for you to get settled here.

“yeah, just give me a sec.” you say whilst sniffling, the cold already creeping into the building. when spencer is more up to it, you have to tell him to complain to his landlord because another year with a busted heater is a nightmare for everyone—particularly him who was prone to cold hands and feet in the winter.

you quickly slip out, leaving him alone for a while before you return with the essentials at hand. your announcement of your arrival falls on deaf ears as you walk in to a sleeping spencer sprawled out on his bed. the pained and sorrowful expression that had been burned into your mind had is replaced by a more peaceful one.

the sight alone was enough to make you feel at ease, knowing that spencer is somewhat okay, you just hope that one day he’s able to feel it too.

[megumimania]

STARSTRUCK — art donaldson

synopsis: as art’s donaldson’s biggest fan you have to make yourself known to him by any means necessary.

warnings/tags: nsfw under the cut (17+), art x superfan!reader, reader is kinda delulu, p in v sex, public sex, unprotected sex, first time writing smut so be nice i beg 😩, please don’t fuck in bathrooms or have unprotected sex,!

art shouldn’t even be here right now.

the pr mess that would ensue if he was caught by an eagle eyed fan or the paparazzi was a nightmare that he didn’t want to deal with. after all what brand would endorse a player that had been seen attending a club?

the neon sign of the club illuminated the street corner, creating a light purple haze that drew him in like a moth to a flame. new rochelle was a fairly uneventful county and since tashi was away every night doing god knows what, art was desperate to kill some time.

he entered the club in a baseball cap, sunglasses and some sweats, trying to mantain a low profile. but it was hard to be discreet when he was casually adorning a rolex on his wrist, which drew some attention from some patrons with how it caught in the light.

bass filled rap music was blasting through the speakers as art moved his way through the throng of the bodies dancing, grinding and making out in the club.

thankfully no one bothered to pay attention to the random white dude in sweats as he took his spot at the club’s vip section, sipping on his drink and mindlessly swaying to the beat of the music.

men and women came over to his section, trying to charm and flirt their way into his pants or to get a drink but he wasn’t interested at all.

he was pulled out of his thoughts by a tap on his shoulder and his immediate reflex was to say no pictures but when he finally made out who it was his face paled, the blood devoid on his face.

how did you know he was here?

art couldn’t believe it.

his number one super-fan aka the head of the so called artnation on twitter and instagram had managed to track him down. honestly he was both super impressed and kind of freaked out but he didn’t let it show. what a way to spend to spend a friday night, he thought to himself.

you were everywhere he went: at the meet and greets, the us open, wimbledon, the australia open, his launch parties. every time you met him, you always had that stupid starstruck look in your eyes when ever he signed another piece of memorabilia for you to add to your collection, made you look even more pathetic.

“how did you find me?” art grumbled, his plans for a quiet booze filled night going down the drain.

what made matters worse was the proximity between you both. you were leaning over him, your boobs practically spilling out of your dress. your voice was a mere whisper, tickling the hairs on his sensitive neck.

god he was a wreck.

“i have my sources.” you replied, not wanting to give

that part was believable. art’s legion of super fans were unreal. whilst some spent their time breaking down the cost of the outfits he wore and some spent their time speculating on his future collaborations, others spent their time tracking his location.

“well…uh it was nice meeting you. again.” art spluttered, looking for the way to end the conversation without sounding like an asshole. “i’ve gotta go to the bathroom.” he stood up taking his leave.

“wait up!” you called out after him. you needed to grab his attention for a longer while, you wanted to have a conversation with art that was memorable, something that you two could joke or talk about when you both “ran” into each other next.

“is it true that you and tashi are getting a divorce?”

“what?” art’s head spun around so fast that he almost gave himself whiplash.

“where the hell do you get off on making up rumours about my wife like that?” his stepped closer to you and you could make out the tick of his jaw underneath the strobe lights. yeah he was pissed.

you sometimes got ahead of yourself and this was one of the times where you low-key felt bad for overstepping boundaries, but in your eyes it was all apart of the fan experience.

what you didn’t expect was to be getting fucked by the art donaldson in a dark club bathroom, his fingers stuffed in your mouth so you wouldn’t make a sound.

who knew that art’s anger towards your lack of respect for his marriage and privacy would have him end up fucking you in the club bathroom?

the music drowned out your moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin as art buried himself inside you, his tip just brushing against your g spot. your dress was bunched up to your hips and your panties were in tatters on the ground.

“hope you’re fucking proud of yourself. all those years of stalking me and my family finally paid off hm?” he groaned against your ear. the way your pussy was milking him dry was enough to send him into a frenzy.

art should’ve felt bad or even guilty for what he was doing, his wedding ring still being on was a glaring reminder of his promised vows of fidelity but what was a relationship without any secrets?

maybe thats why he was here right now, balls deep inside you. he wanted a secret, something to hold over tashi, drive her insane, make her second guess he ever told her, like he did on that one night in atlanta.

you were too fucked out to respond, your mind becoming hazy with each thrust. you held onto the bathroom wall, desperately attempting to anchor yourself into this reality.

“f-fuck don’t stop.” you shuddered as art kept his brutal unforgiving pace, not paying attention to the banging outside the door.

“is that all you gotta say to me?” he grabbed onto your hips, pulling you flush against him so that you now took every inch of his dick. “c’mon i know you got a bigger vocabulary than that.” he teased, rolling his hips into yours watching your jaw go slack as you became drunk on him.

you whined at the sensation, your wet pussy fluttering around him, making his eyes roll back. “please i-im sorry.” you pleaded, your eyes glossy and filled with lust and need but art wasn’t swayed that easily, so he played dumb.

“sorry for what?” he asked, his hands finding your tits, squeezing them as his fingers rolled over your sensitive nipples, eliciting a mewl from you. he wasn’t gonna last any longer if your cunt kept him prisoner like this.

“f-for harassing you and invading your privacy—shit!” you groaned out as art started to fuck into you again, leaning forward to give you a sloppy, wet kiss. “that’s more like it.” art grunted in your ear, feeling his climax soon approaching.

his strokes were more frantic, less controlled as his hips stuttered with each thrust, the coolness of his wedding band against your hips contrasting with the warmth you both felt building up inside of you both. it was literal bliss.

the knot that was finally building up inside of you finally snapped as you came all over his dick with a cry, slumped over his shoulder. his orgasm slowly approached after, as he came all over your dress.

you both stayed like that for a moment as you tried to regain your breath, your hearts beating in tandem with one another.

the passion filled atmosphere dissipated as you were pulled back into reality, the buzz of chatter outside the door, the click-clack sound of heels entering and leaving the bathroom, the smell of weed and cigarette smoke coming from the window.

art looked like he was mentally somewhere else, maybe the weight of his actions finally settled in. tashi didn’t look like a woman who could stay with a cheater. you weren’t going to wait for him, you already got what you wanted and even more, this night would be enough to satiate you for months.

“you run to the blogs or the press about this and i swear on everything holy and good that i will sue your ass for every penny that you have. you got that?” he was back to his professional tone that had you weak in the knees before leaving the scene of passion soon after.

sure you spent your days talking about him in fanspaces online, speculating about his life but you’d never let this night of passion be shared online. it was too intimate, too personal. despite its brief nature of your encounter it was what tied you together.

you were apart of his life now, whether the memories of tonight that he’d have were good or terrible, you completed your goal. you left a lasting impression on him and would occupy a space in his mind no matter how many times he tried to forget.

people always say to never meet your idols but maybe they’ve never had the chance to fuck them yet.

[megumimania]

4:44 — patrick zweig

synopsis: after publicly embarrassing you and your marriage being at deaths door, patrick shows up offering much more than you bargained for.

warnings: angst, smut (17+), patrick is messy as fuck (figuratively and literally) ,cheating, brief mentions of art and tashi.

a/n: finally wrote something for patrick and of course it got a bit nasty and angsty lmao.

he never meant for you to find out like this.

finding out along with the rest of the world that he was cheating on you was something you didn’t expect to wake up to.

patrick knew of the humiliation and embarrassment that you were going to be subjected to as a result of the leaked paparazzi pics that showed him getting hot and heavy with tashi duncan, an old flame that never really died down. even though he reassured you otherwise.

the media never really left you alone at that point. your simple wish of privacy being disrespected at every turn you take. running simple errands were a thing of a past as you couldn’t escape the barrage of questions being asked as you put your shopping cart away.

‘mrs zweig, is it true that you’re divorcing your husband?’

“mrs zweig, how do you feel about the cheating allegations? do you forgive your husband?”

“mrs zweig, reports say that you engaged in a months long affair with art donaldson, is that true?”

the questions were obviously asked to get a rise out of you and despised it. using your marital issues to sell a quick buck was so low blow. a part of you wished they would fuck off somewhere else,hoping that there would be some new drama that they would fixate on and leave you alone.

thankfully they did, a random celebrity’s pregnancy announcement being enough to distract the public from the turmoil that was your life. you were so relived, finally being able to fade back into obscurity. however, whilst everyone managed to move on like the internet does, patrick was terribly relentless.

patrick kept trying to make up for it, buying you luxury bags and designer goods at your request as if that would heal the heartbreak and embarrassment that you were experiencing. it was a pathetic display of forgiveness and it hurt how litle effort he put in trying to salvage this marriage.

couples therapy was a miss, the both of you being ego driven and stubborn meant that it was like pulling teeth to get any of you to try and take some accountability for the roles each of you played in this marriage.

you weren't delusional, you knew that you weren't perfect and that your marriage with patrick shared the same fate. however in comparison to his infidelity, your supposed issues with control and jealousy seemed minor in the grand scheme of things.

with all avenues exhausted, you decided to push for a divorce much to patrick's dismay. his refusal to sign the papers pissed you off.

why did he have to make everything so difficult?

you thought that some distance would do the trick. so for the past month you've been staying at a fancy hotel in the midst of packing up your whole life to move back to the west coast where your life has always been.

as you were preparing to wind down for the evening, you heard a knock on the door. you quickly shrugged on your robe and your slippers and opened the door to find him of all people standing there.

his eyes looking somewhat ashamed and embarrassed and for the first time the mighty indomitable patrick zweig, looks as small as ever.

“why are you here?” you ask him the million dollar question, the one he cannot answer.

you dont even know why you step aside to let him in. maybe it's the newfound loneliness that makes it harder to maintain that degree of impassiveness towards him. with patrick standing before you in your hotel room you're forced to acknowledge his presence.

he hands you a bottle of wine with an intention to share it between you both and you oblige. he pulls out two glasses for you both as he pours the wine into your glass first and then into his. you watch how his freckled hand smoothly pours the wine into the glass without any spillage.

you dont even know why you listen to him talk, as if you'd get something reasonable from him but you know he's full of bullshit. when you ask why? with a lump forming in your throat. he stands there aimless, the words falling dry on his tongue. looking at you as if the answers written on your forehead.

yet it isn't enough to fully squash your want for him. so when he does lean in to kiss you, you let him. the kiss is short but weighted, his apology being interwoven into every kiss. the several glasses of wine in your systems has you both feeling some type of way.

“should we even be doing this?” his voice seems worlds away when it’s buried in the crook of your neck. his hands roam around your waist in a tentative manner, unsure whether he's doing the right thing but when you place his hands firmly on your waist, he feels his heart race.

“i won’t say anything if you don’t.” the go ahead you’ve given him turns him into a madman, with clothes being haphazardly strewn across the hotel room. he can't get enough of you. his hands wanting to leave a mark on every single part of your body making you groan in pleasure.

patrick fucks like a man starved.

your legs rest on his shoulders as he buries his face into your wet cunt, lapping up the juices with his tongue. the lewd slurping and sucking sounds as well as the way his nose bumps against your clit has you grinding into his face. god he missed this, missed you.

“patrick im so close…” you mewl as you grip onto his messy curls. he ignores your warning continuing to devour your pussy without a care in the world. your vision swims and your toes curl as you’re on the brink of coming undone. patrick knows this and like the asshole he is he will not stop until you're a whining mess.

he lets out a low groan becoming drunk on your pussy, his eyes half lidded and filled with lust. “missed your pretty pussy, fake ones didn’t hit the same.” he murmured. eating you out was his favourite past time if he could say so himself. patrick ignores your pleas, making direct eye contact with you as he spits onto your cunt smearing it all across your puffy folds.

“fuck... patrick!” you cry out as your vision goes white and your body goes limp. he comes up a few seconds later, his lips coated in your slick as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss where you can faintly taste yourself on his tongue. his teeth lightly grazing your lower lip makes you pause for a second when you realise the bastard was fucking smiling.

“what's so funny?" you cock a brow at him and he laughs again even harder this time, before dismissing your concern with a wave of his hand. "can’t a man enjoy his last fuck with his soon to be ex-wife?” he grins like the arrogant fuck he is, the vitriol that threatens to leave your mouth is quickly silenced with a gasp as patrick swiftly enters you.

you both still for a moment, as you try to accommodate each other. it’s been a long time since you’ve slept with someone let alone your husband. you hopelessly grip onto his bicep, your manicured nails leaving red crescent shaped marks on his skin.

finally patrick starts to move, his strokes slow and languid as if he’s trying to savour every moment of this moment with you. he drinks up all the moans and expletives that carelessly leaves your lips as he picks up the pace, slamming into you with a desperate fervour.

the way patrick’s dick kept hitting your g spot was enough for you to start seeing stars, the obscene squelching sounds from your pussy was enough to drive him insane. “baby, please m’gonna—” you whined, feeling your body tense up as you desperately clawed his back.

he was fucking you stupid but you couldn’t complain, he knew your body like back of his hand our mind foggy as all you could focus on was him thrusting in and out of you.

if patrick was able photograph this moment, he would. your fucked out expression, the way your tits bounced with each thrust, the anklet he bought you that was adorned in diamonds sitting pretty on his shoulder. however he knew that this wasn’t something to be commemorated, this was a goodbye.

his hands squeezed your pretty tits, circling your spit covered nipples until they were hardened peaks. “you’re gonna what? i can’t help you if you don’t use your words doll.” he rasped against your ear, biting back the urge to moan after feeling your pussy fluttering around him.

he knew that he was being a bit mean by playing dumb but he didn’t want this to end, so if he had to prolong your orgasm then that was it.

your back arched slightly at the stimulation you were experiencing, making you heady with pleasure. “i-i’m gonna cum patrick.” you admitted, voice strained and tears brimming your eyes as you were soon approaching your climax. “see, now i can help with that.” his hands snake down to your clit rubbing it in circles, only speeding up your orgasm.

your body convulsed as you came all over patrick’s dick, legs still trembling from the after effects of your orgasm. patrick’s release followed shortly after, slumping down beside you with a huff. the two of you stayed like that for a while, your breathing being the only sounds filling the room.

eventually sleep claims you both, his arms snug around your waist providing you more comfort than you anticipated. by the time you wake up its midday and the sunlight is streaming through the curtains.

you get a start on your day, ignoring the way your muscles ache with each turn and the litter of hickeys decorating your neck that are still visible no matter how many times you part your hair in different directions.

days later, patrick finally signs the divorce papers you’ve sent him in the mail. you’re too busy staring at the words on the paper to notice your wedding ring that has rolled out of the envelope.

you hold the ring that now more feels weighted than before, it holds an air of finality toward it that leaves you with a bittersweet feeling, that it was now all finally over.

[megumimania]

GOOD LUCK…BABE?

featuring. tashi duncan & fem!reader

synopsis. if only tashi knew how much you cared about her

tashi loved how you were a world away from her world of tennis. it was nice talking to someone who wasn’t obsessed with her stats or plays this season or her training regimen. in her eyes, you were truly a breath of fresh air.

she sat crosslegged on your bed fiddling with her bracelet as she gave you a life update about patrick, her off again and on again boyfriend. you’d heard his name more than you liked but you wanted to be a good friend, so you gave her the floor to talk her shit.

“he’s so fucking arrogant and he just pisses me off so much!” she exclaimed as she fell back onto your bed with a huff. she looked over at you, your eyes focused on the glaring laptop screen before you as you were typing your essay a few feet away.

“thats what you get for dating an athlete.” you replied half heartedly, looking up at her.

it wasn’t like tashi was short of options here at stanford, the amount of men and women who gave you their numbers on a crumpled piece of paper in hopes that they’d be able to talk to the tashi duncan was astronomical.

too bad they were piling up and wasting away in your desk drawer.

“oh yeah and what would you do if you were in my shoes?” she scoffed rolling over to face you, her jaw resting against her hand. you thought about it for a hot second, trying to ignore the way your heart raced when tashi looked your way.

“uhh, for starters i wouldn’t have dated patrick.” you list off first with a laugh. “everyone knows that he’s gonna crash and burn soon. i mean you tell me all the time how terrible he’s doing in his matches.”

it was common knowledge at this point that patrick at this stage wasn’t ready for the bloodbath that was professional tennis.

sure his flashy shots and arrogance on the court was able to coast him through the first few matches on tour, but it was getting to the point that even to the untrained eye, patrick was looking sloppy and it was fucking up her brand.

was it embarrassing to see your boyfriend doing terrible at the us open online? yes it was.

however tashi for some reason couldn’t find it in her to break up with him as callously as she did with previous partners. besides his professional shortcomings, he was great in bed and tashi liked that he wasn’t all over her, so eager to please and bend backwards for her.

not that she minded of course, but being with patrick was different, freeing in a way and she didn’t expect you to understand her. not when you looked at her with those judging eyes that made her the hairs on the skin rise in a way she wasn’t ready to divulge nor dissect.

“yeah, i’d probably go for his blond friend…arnold?andrew? whatever. he looks like he’s willing to do whatever it takes to win, plus he’s cuter.” tashi snorted at your inability to refer to art by his given name, often going by his signature blond mop of curls.

“you mean art, right?” she shook her head whilst trying to fight back a smile.

“tash, he’s a tall, blonde white man who plays a sport. that’s literally 40% of the student body, it’s not my fault i cant tell them apart.” you grumbled as she picked at the loose thread on your shirt, the fleeting touches making your skin flush, hot to the touch.

“touche.” she said, listening to the faint sounds of leaves rustling and laughter from your window. with the conversation dying down, you finally returned back to completing your essay, when tashi lept out of bed.

“what’s up?” you perked up, already attuned to her subtle changes in demeanour and body language. it was pathetic how much you spent time breaking down the enigma that was tashi duncan, analysing her components and putting her back together again in your mind.

“patrick.” she replied, quickly getting her stuff together as she put her trainers on. “he’s outside of my room right now.” you could feel the subtle excitement seeping out of her and it didn’t do anything to quell the way your heart sank.

was it jealousy? the knowledge that she could do better than him, that was eating you up alive?

“thanks babe for the company and snacks, i swear you are my happy place.” she said, wrapping her arms around you in a side hug whilst she was already halfway out the door.

“oh tash!” you called out from your window.

“yeah?”

“break a leg for your match today, yeah?”