#and my voice is still kind of fucked up from that 😔

[midnight-drip]

born to be a yapper, forced to go on vocal rest 😔😔😔

[oikarma]

number one girl

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: the story of ynmax is a very, very heated topic riddled with holes and chock full of conspiracies: a couple and split to rival brocedes. it's mostly an a f1 thing, though, until you release an album and the internet tries to deduce what ruined a decades-long friendship.

a/n: angst warning. bear with me, you're in for a long ride. we go from twitter to insta to reddit to sdfsd. this was SO FUN!

part one / part two / part three

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liked by stevienicks, georgerussell63 and 3,104,827 others

yourinstagram: "number one girl" out now.

view all 411,295 comments

user1: mother??? music???

user2: our multitalented baby <3

stevienicks: so proud of you ❤️

yourinstagram: so thankful for you 🥺 your support is immeasurable in worth

user3: max verstappen did you-

user4: george listening to this so he can justify bullying max next season

user5: please 💀 i choked on my water reading that

user6: CHARLES IN THE CREDITS FOR PIANO?? how many side quests has this girl roped people into

user7: they're still good friends lol just cause she and max stopped speaking doesn't mean she's not close w the rest of the grid user8: @/user7 right! she and alex have also posted each other quite a bit after the rhode collab

user9: is no one talking about the lyrics 😃 gut wrenching, yes, but the way it all lines up w max??

user10: no babe dw we're all talking about the lyrics user11: my roman empire...

user12: who's this max guy and what does he have to do with my queen y/n

user13: @/user12 he's a formula one driver, they ued to be best friends user12: @/user13 like nascar? omg what i only knew that she debuted in shadow n bone but WHAT IS THIS

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A PAGE FROM Y/N's JOURNAL November 15, 2021

Max is a plane right now to see Kelly. I feel like I've been punched, three times over. The nausea is getting to me.

How could you? Just say all those things, like you always do. Do you mean any of them? When you say "I love you, more than anyone in this life." When you say "You're worth it, really. "When you say "forever." Does anyone ever really mean forever? Forever is part of the foreseeable future. You cannot capture what is beyond that.

You were my life. The words, every moment. An inescapable reminder.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by charles_leclerc, brunomars and 2,819,305 others

yourinstagram: "toxic till the end (ft. lewis hamilton)" is up on youtube and all music platforms ♡

view all 309,418 comments

user1: what. the. fuck.

user2: is she dating lewis? what? y/n girl please stop being cryptic my head can't take all of this 😭

user3: if this is part of the press tour i must say i am now extremely invested in the ynmax drama and i didn't even know who max was until i saw a thread on number one girl...

lewishamilton: Best of luck with your future endeavors, Y/N 🫂 Will be by your side!

yourinstagram: you better be 🫰 user4: the friendship we didn't know we needed

user5: lewis with...pink hair...

user6: max emilian verstappen fumbled so hard

user7: imagine ghosting THE y/n l/n and then she drops this

user8: well, 4 years later but yeah user9: what even is a wdc...

user10: what does the heart mean y/n

user11: bro

user12: so i guess the harry styles dating rumors were all fake 😔 but omg lewis music!!

kellypiquet: Face and voice of an angel 😽

yourinstagram: me? please, pregnancy glow has been treating you good 💕 user13: at least they don't have any hard feelings...

user14: bruno in the likes is the most random thing ever

user15: acting career, check. singing career, check. formula one side quests??? multple checks

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liked by kellypiquet and 4,103,697 others

lewishamilton: Behind the scenes of Miss Y/N's "toxic till the end" music video

tagged: yourinstagram

yourinstagram: looking good there, lew

lewishamilton: Very kind of you to say user1: trust me we are witnessing the start of a great romance

user2: i don't want to delulu too hard but PLEASE tell me y/n's moved on with lewis it would be the ultimate baddie move

user3: imagine...you won abu dhabi but you lost the love of your life to the guy you beat 🤪 user4: we're all insane but i'm just going to keep dreaming

charles_leclerc: Why am I not in your dump?

yourinstagram: face card wasn't lethal enough user5: she's brutal 💀 user6: our charles's facecard could start wars idk what she's on

user7: daddy please give me ONE chance

user8: give me some of that maranello?? he looks so good oml

user9: focusing on music videos and not racing...no wonder he's washed

user10: @/user9 can you stfu and touch grass user11: @/user9 literally no one asked

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AN UNSENT LETTER FROM MAX November 2021

Dear Hey, Y/N.

I realized you blocked me. It hurts. I don't know what to say or what to believe anymore. I miss us. Overstepping was the wrong choice, if you must, but going back is not impossible.

We've been friends for so long. Why can't you won't you try?

I miss you.

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r/Fauxmoi · 1 day ago hamilton7xc

Max Verstappen and Y/N L/N's infamous split explained?

feralonsos: So she's been pretending he led her on when she lead him on

parking23: I don't know anymore. I know nothing. Don't even talk to me.

forzamcqueen: I want to say it's not about YNMax but 21 (as in 21, when they split?) and Y/N has been coming out with music recently. When you look at the "number one girl" lyrics from Boy's perspective it lines up with this submission. That Max wanted reassurance from Y/N and she gave it to him, but she couldn't give him everything he needed.

↳ roses_berg: @/forzamcqueen I don't know...it seems kind of unlikely. Y/N has a lyric about "chasing the prize" or something like that. What prize would she be chasing? On the other hand, you have Max who has clearly said racing is his passion and he loves winning.

↳ forzamcqueen: @/roses_berg I see where you're coming from but there are a few interpretations. Toxic Till the End suggests she thought his attachment to her was maybe unhealthy, and he kept trying to find ways to keep her by his side. Y/N has mentioned in past interviews (promo for her role in Shadow and Bone, when she was starting to do acting) that she's had bad experience with past relationships and is hesitant on starting a new one.

↳ januaryblues11: @/forzamcqueen Sorry, what interview? Could you link it?

↳ forzamcqueen: @/januaryblues11 No worries, I put it down below. The part I'm referring to is around 5:41.

↳ WolffHornerFan: @/forzamcqueen Okay, okay. I need a timeline then. She must've started filming Shadow and Bone in Oct 2019, then wrapped 4 months later in Feb 2020. This might be the "prize" she's chasing? Her own career. Before it was announced that she was in the series most news referred to her as "close friend" or "best friend" of Max Verstappen. Now a lot of people know her for S&B or Top Gun Maverick, etc.

↳ CautiousOwl: Might've not wanted her relationship to overshadow her career. It's understandable, if she wanted to be taken seriously instead of a "nepo friend."

↳ 4norrisop: She's amazing in Shadow and Bone! Definitely recommend checking that out, but I don't understand why she ghosted him.

↳ ynluv07: @/4norrisop he was dating kelly at the time. she might've thought it was a bad idea after it happened (i'm referring to the kiss, which i assume happened because she explicitly refers to it a few times in "number one girl") and distanced herself. maybe she told him it wasn't okay?

↳ ICEMAN_bwoah: Brain hurts.

↳ brooksies: Well if she did give up her happiness because she thought Kelly deserved better, that's great. No wonder they're still on good terms.

↳ DauntingParrot91: @/brooksies Yeah, sure...

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AN UNSENT LETTER FROM MAX January 2022

Y/N, I'm sorry I asked for too much; I'm sorry I pushed you. I'll take my bags and go quietly, this time. Maybe you'll open the door again someday. I love you too, my best friend always.

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liked by lewishamilton, taylorswift and 4,103,269 others

yourinstagram: Burnout.

comments on this post have been limited

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AN UNSENT LETTER FROM Y/N February 2022

Wish you'd take a little longer to pack up your bags. You're moving too fast. Make me want to hate you more than I hate myself, so I don't have to miss you. Make a mistake, please. So I have someone to blame.

Please, won't you stay a little longer? I would call you babe, just to make you smile. I wouldn't mean it that way, but I still love you. You're my best friend. Why wasn't that enough?

I'll be okay, sometime. You say it's written all over my face, and I wonder, what is? I'm fragile, now. I'm speechless, now. Don't leave me in pieces. I'm sorry, let me fix it. It won't be good for us, but oh-how I want to.

I'm already having trouble breathing. Please, stay a little longer. I can't stand these four walls without you inside them.

Come back, be here.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by kellypiquet and 1,249,805 others

maxverstappen: She stayed a little longer 🖤

tagged: kellypiquet

view all 91,432 comments

user1: GUYS HE DEF HEARD THE SONG

user2: do we think kelly asked him to post it

user3: tbf given on how sweet her n yns interactions are i wouldn't be surprised if she listened to burnout

user4: kelly. you are the strongest woman i know

user5: so i can convince you the minute i kiss you speak a little softer so i don't have to answer and make it okay before you can say

user6: i just know he had a little breakdown inside after he heard the album

user7: max rn: CHARLES HOW COULD YOU PLAY PIANO FOR HER

user8: max: alexa play that should be me user9: ho-olding your handdd

user10: who are we blaming today

user11: at least max is finally someone's number one girl

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AN UNSENT LETTER FROM MAX Summer 2024

Sometimes I look to the television and you're on, flying a plane or wielding magic, whatever it is you do these days. I knew you could act. I knew you'd make it far. I hear you were nominated for a Golden Globe, too.

I was mad for a long time. I was upset you kicked me out of your life so abruptly.

Kelly's expecting. I think she will be as good a mother to our child as she is to little P. A family is what I have always wanted, you know. It was not what you wanted.

I am sorry. I have said that many times, but one day I will need to say it to your face. I am truly, irrevocably sorry for all the hurt I caused you, in the name of love.

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r/PopCultureChat · 1 day ago forzamcqueen

"Burnout" by Y/N L/N

How do we feel about the release of the full album? Moreover, how do we think it fits into the YNMax narrative? I, for one, have been listening non-stop trying to figure out the story.

lec_clerc16: I think it's funny how many people have gotten into F1 because of her music. Lol.

↳ NaturalOtter5: Well Lewis & Charles were on it so I would say the F1 community is pretty interested in the tea aswell.

↳ lec_clerc16: @/NaturalOtter5 Right, but YNMax is old drama. Sure, someone's posting in r/F1 every other week about an old photo or new quote. It's still been around for a while. This is fresh meat 😋

jennyowens1342: such a player...LOL who is gameboy about atp

↳ sassybanana: TBF Y/N's dating life has been a lot more quiet than Max's. There have been rumors but she hasn't hard launched anything. Maybe the one public "relationship" was enough for her.

museapollo: the more i listen the more convinced i am that y/n did not want the relationship as max did and decided it was best for them to stop being friends. the whole album is about a codependent relationship and the two people can't deal with leaving but they know it's better for both.

↳ janitorsclosetmonster: yess!! that's what i've been saying. we can't blame y/n for everything, it must've been confusing for her as well. having to navigate everything. idt she'd dated anyone at that point. max was her only close friend.

↳ EggplantParmesan713: But did max cheat...that's the real question. When did THE kiss happen? And who started it?

↳ museapollo: @/EggplantParmesan713 idk. i can't figure if she actually loved him (romantically) bcs it's clear he did but her side is a bit more hazy. you have: 1. "i just WANT it to be you" - it's not actually him she loves but she desperately wants it to be him 2. "cause even when i said it was over / you heard baby can you pull me in closer" - she's telling him it won't work out but he's not listening. 3. "please, won't you stay, stay a little a little longer, babe?" - she pauses before babe, like it's her trying to convince him to stay. mb she thought it was best to distance herself/end the friendship for a bit but she still loves him a lot because they've been friends for so long

↳ forzamcqueen: @/museapollo The best explanation I have heard so far. You can't force someone to love you the way you do. At least they've matured and moved on.

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January 2025

Dear Max:

Congratulations. I'm sure you will be a wonderful father, as I have always guessed. 2024 was a great year for you. I watched all a few of your races; you've still got it.

I'm putting out an album soon. I thought you should know. I already had a talk with Kelly, she's listened to some snippets and she likes it a lot. Some of the writing is about you the things I never said.

It was wonderful being your best friend. We had a good run, better than most.

Missing you Wish you the best, Y/N L/N

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

February 2025

Dear Y/N:

Occasionally, I think of all that could have been.

But we had many years together, and I will always cherish those moments.

Kelly loves the album, she puts it on while she cooks or does her makeup. P sings along in the car. She says she wants to go out for a tea party with you sometime. I listen to it even when they're out of the voice, for a reminder of your voice. You've made quite a name for yourself. I'm sorry I couldn't be there by your side.

Thank you for writing it. There are some things that you have to hear once, just for yourself.

Love Always Yours, Max Verstappen

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

what did you think?? i might do a part 2 of yn & max talking for the first time in forever but i wanna know if you guys liked this one first LOL

[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

— or: art donaldson needs a massage therapist…

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, unprofessional massages, no use of y/n.

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

author's 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 you.

“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 out 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.

[bonedo-enthusiast]

bnd's kinks 𐂐◯𓇋

A/N: i haven't written smut in years but i like how this turned out! :D i am canonically a sapphic, so idk what possessed me to write this but here we are. 😔 lowercase is intended as always, enjoy. :)

genre: smut

tws: kinks!, explicit sexual content, bdsm themes

pairing: legal!bnd x afab!reader (but i tried to make it gn!reader mostly)

wc: 2,188

MDNI!! (i have three other pg imagines on my blog, read those instead :p)

Sungho

praise, service top/bottom, foreplay, teasing (sort of), begging

i think he just really wants to make you feel good, by any means necessary, although he prefers to be gentle. 

he kind of strikes me as more vanilla than anything else, but he would love telling you how much he’s enjoying things. 

you’re on the bed, legs spread, with sungho slowly running his fingers across your skin. 

he looks down at you lovingly. “you’re so beautiful.” and you know he means it, with the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only other person in the world. 

he’s very slow, very deliberate because why would he rush things when he has all the time in the world? 

if he could, he would spend hours with you underneath him like this, your little whimpers like music to his ears. 

but sungho would feel bad making you wait oh so patiently for him, so he’d do exactly what you want. 

first, he’d trail soft kisses down your skin, making sure to suck and nip as he went. 

he’d attach himself to your nipple, swirling his tongue around it slowly while bringing his hand down to your inner thighs. 

your gasps and moans would only fuel his hard-on, its presence evident underneath his boxers. 

he liked it when you were completely naked and when he still had an article or two of clothing on because sungho knew you would often beg so sweetly, something he found so endearing. 

you begging for him… the love of his life needing him in a way that only he could satisfy. 

sungho was always good at drawing orgasms out of you, making you have at least two before he’d even consider orgasming himself. 

but when it comes to that point, he’d become a bit feverish. his grip on your hips would be almost tight enough to bruise as he pounded into you with vigor. 

he’d continue kissing you sloppily, praises leaving his mouth one after the other. 

“you feel so good… so pretty. shit, you’re so fucking hot…” 

Riwoo

mommy kink, praise, humiliation, dick slapping, hints of dacryphilia

i think riwoo’s usually pretty innocent-minded, and too shy to initiate anything even if he is having impure thoughts. 

so riwoo would just be minding his business, maybe playing league of legends on his pc. then you’d hug his neck from behind, resting your chin on his head. “how’s my baby doing?” 

he would blush at the use of ownership, but not take his eyes off of the screen. “good. my team’s winning.” 

“oh, that’s great! i’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” you run your fingers through his hair, causing a chill to go down riwoo’s spine. “can i join you? i’d like to watch.” 

he nods and you pull up a chair next to his, resting your head against his shoulder but not in a way that would hinder his gaming. 

he’d feel more nervous now, having an audience. he wants to make you proud, wants to hear you praise him again, so he locks in all of his attention to the screen in front of him. 

which is why he doesn’t at first notice your hand on his thigh, until your fingers crest against the edge of his waistband. 

he lets out a gasp and breaks his eye contact with the screen to glance at you. “wh…what are you doing?”

“what do you mean? i’m not doing anything, sweetheart. just keep playing your game.” your voice comes out innocent, but riwoo’s been dating you long enough to know that you in fact know exactly what you’re doing. 

but he also knows better than to protest, especially since he’s already a bit turned on from you just complimenting him. 

you notice that fact with the way his dick is already semi-hard. you let out a laugh and lightly slap his dick, making him let out a whine. “you’re already turned on and i haven’t even done anything. how pathetic…” 

riwoo inhales a shaky breath and blinks several times, trying his best to focus. 

when you undo his pants and pull down his boxers, he tries not to squirm even as the cool air in the room hits his fully erect dick.

you wrap a hand around it, gently running your thumb up and down the shaft.

he starts bucking his hips, so you remove your hand and slap his dick again.

riwoo whines and tears start to rim his eyes. “p-please…” 

“hmm? please what, baby?”

“please touch me… more… i need more.”

“you need more, huh? so the slut isn’t appreciating what i’m giving him? it’s not enough?”

he gulps. “n-no, it’s good. i-i just–” he’s cut off when you lick the tip of his dick, a strangled moan escaping his lips. 

“oh? did you like that? does that make my slut’s pretty dick feel good?” 

“yes… more please…” 

“please what?”

“mommy. please, mommy…” 

and how could you say no to that?

Jaehyun

praise, humiliation, choking, masochism, bondage

i think jaehyun just gives me major “i need to be punished” vibes ??

he’s a very hyper man, and i imagine he’d probably get on your nerves fairly easily.

“jaehyun, can you stop running around like that? i’m trying to watch this lecture.”

“i’m not running around.” he pouts. “i’m just having fun.”

“can you have fun more quietly?”

“it’s not my fault my partner cares more about their grades than their sweet, loving boyfriend.” 

“is that what this is about? you just want attention?” you scoff.

“maybe… i just miss you.” jaehyun frowns.

“so your plan is to piss me off? you never learn, do you? how many times do i have to punish you before you actually start to learn? you’re just a dumb slut, aren’t you?” 

jaehyun’s jaw would go slack, both surprised and turned on all in one.

“i asked you a question.”

“uh. y-yes…” 

“you’re gonna have to beg for it. convince me that you’re worth my time.”

“please…” he got down on his knees in front of you, resting his head on your thighs. “i want you so bad…” 

“do you now? well, why don’t you make yourself useful and go get the box?”

jaehyun bites his lip and nods before racing into your shared bedroom to grab the box full of sex toys that you own. when he gets back, your laptop is no longer on your lap and your eyes are fully on him. just what he wanted. 

he instinctively reaches down and palms himself through his shorts, until your voice breaks him out of his haze. “and what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“s-sorry, i really didn’t mean to.” jaehyun says quickly, placing the box in front of you. “really… it was an accident.” 

“accident or not, you’re testing my patience. looks like what i originally had in mind won’t be enough. i’m going to have to fuck some sense into you.” 

he doesn’t even protest, the arousal swirling within him. it’s almost too much, with the way that his dick strains against the only barrier between you and him. 

“lay down on the couch.” you say, opening the box and pulling out a pair of fuzzy handcuffs.

jaehyun’s eyes widen. “w-wait! i wanna touch you!”

“too bad. if you’re going to act like a slut, i’m going to treat you like one.” you put the handcuffs on him before attacking his lips with your own. you press his hands down over his head and straddle his legs, your clothed heat brushing against his erection.

“f-fuck…” jaehyun groans in between your kisses. 

you pull away only to wrap a hand around his soft neck, squeezing gently as you rub yourself against him. “do you like that, slut?” 

“yes, i like it so m-much…” 

“mm, good boy.”

Taesan

dom/sub, humiliation, edging, sadism, teasing

i love taesan as much as the next onedoor, but this man can be mean 😭 like he’s a sweetheart don’t get me wrong but he really has his moments where i’m like damn dude. 

so i think that this could easily be applied to his sexual preferences. 

being a songwriter of boynextdoor does not come without its challenges, so he’s often stressed and worn out from the sheer amount of responsibilities he has placed on him. so of course he needs an outlet for all that stress… cue you, his wonderful loving partner.

you’d hear the front door to the apartment close all the way from your shared bedroom, a huge smile on your face knowing that it was taesan coming home after a long day. 

you race into the living room to greet him, finding him standing there oddly still with a dark look in his eyes. 

you immediately freeze, mouth slightly agape as he slowly trails his eyes up your body. when they meet your own, you can see the desire within them. “go back to the bedroom. when i come back there, i expect you to be fully naked.” 

you stand there for a few more seconds, taking in his words before nodding and hurriedly rushing back to the bedroom. 

you’ve barely taken off your underwear, which was your last article of clothing, when taesan bursts into the room. 

you could practically feel the heat of his eyes as he approaches you, not bothering to close the door. “fuck, i’ve been waiting all day for this…” 

he immediately wraps you up in his arms and kisses you passionately before (gently) throwing you on the bed and crawling on top of you.

he makes haste with discarding his own clothing before attaching his lips to your neck, you writhing below him with soft whimpers. 

if you’d squirm too much, he’d hold your hips as a warning. 

but if you squirmed again regardless, he would slap your inner thigh and grab your jaw, making eye contact with you. “don’t fucking move.” 

which is easier said than done, and he knows that but doesn’t care because he loves being mean. <3

so he just watches as you helplessly try to stay still, even as he brings his fingers dangerously close to your sensitive areas. 

“aww, poor baby… you want to move so bad, don’t you?”

“taesan, please just fuck me.”

“tsk… you should know better than to ask for that so early on. what would be the fun in that? i think i’d much rather watch you come undone with just my fingers alone. wouldn’t you like that too, baby?” 

you nod feverishly, choking out a moan when his finger circles your hole.

and when he’s fingering you with intensity, you know you’re about to come undone exactly as he wanted. 

your moans increase and get higher in pitch, your orgasm right there.

you feel it building up, just about to come when taesan suddenly pulls his fingers away, leaving you clenching around nothing.

“n-no! taesan, please! please, please…”

“shhh…” he places a finger against your lips. “just relax. you’ll get what you want, baby… just let me have some fun first, yeah?” and then he’s back to attacking your neck. 

Leehan

switch, role play, power dynamics 

idk why but i just think leehan would find the idea of role play funny, something he’d want to try out as a joke… but seeing you in that sexy nurse outfit has his head spinning in a way he didn’t plan on. 

the way the tight uniform shows off every one of your curves has leehan immediately wanting to pounce on you like he’s some animal. 

but he’d restrain himself, because he’s curious where this will go. 

and you being the fantastic nurse that you are means that you have to give him a well-rounded checkup. 

so of course you have to test every nerve to make sure that his motor functions are working properly. 

you start with the usual, gently tapping your rubber mallet against his knee before working your way up. 

he responds well to your touch, his breath hitching when you brush against his dick, it already being hard. 

which is convenient because you need to make sure that was in working order, too. 

“do you regularly engage in sexual intercourse, mr. kim?”

leehan is taken aback by your question, blushing a little. “yes…”

“and do you use protection, sir?”

he gulps, liking the way you were referring to him. it became physically evident in the way that his dick twitched ever so slightly, begging for friction. “yes.” 

“good. very, very good.” you make a show of writing on a blank notepad. “i’m going to need to further examine you, especially because it’s been a while since you’ve been to get a checkup.” 

you scoot closer to him on the stool and gesture at his pants. “would you mind taking these off, mr. kim?” 

leehan nods and quickly unbuttons and unzips his pants, pulling them down to around his ankles. the tent in his boxers stand proud, a small patch of wetness on the cotton fabric. 

you reach out and palm him through the fabric, achingly slow, earning a hiss from leehan. 

“just relax, alright? this examination might take a while…”

[ashlynlovestlou]

omg omg omg, can you please do abby and reader trying out the tabs chocolate to see who breaks first?? 😔🙏🙏🙏🙏

hi!! my power is out so this is kind of rushed. hope you guys enjoy! (also im so so so sorry for being inactive, but i'm back now!)

masterlist

daily click

links to help palestine

☆.｡.:*

it was never supposed to be anything more than a gag-gift. ellie had given it to you and your girlfriend as a joke a few weeks ago at a group get-together, and you'd thought nothing of it. neither did abby. what were you supposed to think about a chocolate that makes you horny? nothing, you suppose.

now you were sitting across from one another on the floor of your shared living room, your legs folded beneath you. you decided to challenge one another, seeing who could go the longest without touching the other.

abby's hands are twitching, like she's on the verge of just grabbing you and fucking you right then and there. her strap is tucked away in her basketball shorts, and you could practically hear it calling your name.

so far you'd both lasted ten minutes without touching each other, and there was an obvious wet patch in your panties.

"no way you're winning this." you murmur at her, your voice broken from how bad you're aching to touch yourself. or her.

she doesn't say anything for a moment, and it's almost like you can see a drop of sweat trickle down her temple, "fuck, baby, wanna touch you so bad." she says back to you, "can't even imagine how wet you are right now."

you raise an eyebrow. little did she know, she just gave you a reason to tease her.

"i am." you respond, using that voice. the one you explicitly use during sex. the one that has her whimpering every time you speak. you even spread your legs a little bit, hoping she'd look down to see for herself.

she does.

she groans, her eyes drifting down to your crotch. she closes her eyes the minute she sees the mess you made through your shorts, her head lolling backwards, "shit."

"you can touch me, y'know. it's just a game." you say, still using that sultry voices

she looks down at you again, shaking her head, "not gonna lose to you. nice try though."

you sigh and roll your eyes, your impatience only growing with every second that her hands aren't all over you, "what if we just... touch each other at the same time? then neither of us would win or lose."

"baby, if we wanted to fuck that easily we would've." she chides.

"abby, come on." you groan, "this is stupid."

she stares at you for a moment, weighing her options. she's still desperate to touch you, that much hasn't changed. but the whole point of this game was to see who could go the longest. it doesn't take her long to make up her mind.

"fuck it." she says, practically leaping at you, crashing her plush lips into yours. she swallows every moan you elicit, ripping your clothes off your body.

no, literally, she ripped your shirt in half.

"sorry, sweetheart. i'll buy you a new one, i promise." she says, giving you no time to object before kissing you again, she unclips your bra more delicately, her grabby hands wasting no time in squeezing at whatever parts of your breasts her hands could find. abandoning your left breast, she snakes her hand in between the two bodies, her fingers stripping off your denim shorts skillfully. once you're left in only your panties she leans back to take in the full view, whistling lowly.

you smile, reaching up and tugging on the sleeve of her shirt that sits snugly at her large bicep, "wanna see you too."

she smirks down at you, laying you down on your back, your bare skin relaxing against the soft carpet, "anything for you, princess." she says before stripping off her own shirt. how unfair of her to preserve her own clothes but not yours. but you forgive her easily once you lay your eyes on her toned torso.

she takes her shorts off in the process too, her strap flinging out like it was waiting for you. she takes one of her careful hands and resting it on your tummy, asking you for permission, to which you nod.

she carefully reaches her hands into your panties, her fingers finding their place over your folds. her middle finger rubs in between them for a few times before she groans, "already this wet? i dont even think she needs my fingers. already lubed up for me."

you whimper at her words and she gives you that smug, lopsided smile that you loved so much, "i'll give her what she needs. just sit tight."

she takes your panties off, slowly pulling them down your legs and peppering kisses all over your face while she does it. she did this same routine the first time the two of you ever had sex. you were nervous, and this was her way of distracting you to make you feel better. and now she does it every time, like it's her natural habit.

once you're completely naked she spreads your legs a bit wider, slotting herself in between them and rubbing your thighs reassuringly, "so pretty." she mutters to herself as she looks you over one last time before inserting herself inside of you.

you take her inch by inch, closing your eyes and moaning consistently until she bottoms out. once she's done she freezes, letting you adjust, "everything feel okay? doesn't hurt, does it?"

you shake your head, "doesn't hurt. m' okay."

she nods, bending down to kiss your forehead before slowly pulling out and pushing it in. out, in. out in, out in. until she has a steady rhythm.

she holds you intimately, completely contrasting the savage beast she was earlier. but abby was always gentle. good at taking care of you, and good at making sure you were okay afterwards. she knew the difference between harder, faster, and deeper, and she knew all the right spots. she'd watch your face for any sign of discomfort or pain. and when she didn't see any, she'd shower you with affection.

she whimpers with every thrust of her hips, the base of the strap bumping against her clit. she kisses your neck like she's tucking herself away into you, one of her hands reaching down to gentle rub your bundle of nerves. you both stay in this position until her hips stutter, "y' almost close?"

you nod, eyes closing.

she keeps doing what she's doing, pinching and pulling at your clit until you're shaking underneath her, moaning louder than before. she fucks you through it, her pace slowing down the longer your orgasm draws out.

once your high is finally over she kisses your cheek, "m' never playing that stupid game again."

you laugh into her shoulder, "probably for the best."

she smiles before lifting off of you a bit, "you okay if i pull out?"

you nod your head, whining whenever she does pull out, leaving you empty.

she flops down beside you with zero grace, catching her breath, "i love you." she murmurs.

"i love you too." you whisper back.

[megalomaniacz]

feed me more toxic vi

nsfw, toxic!vi is mean but what’s new, my birthday is coming up so that’s what gave me the idea idk leave me alone 😔

it had been approximately 48 hours and still no text from vi. you were more than pissed at this point, she’d missed your fucking birthday. what kind of ‘girlfriend’ does that? you check your phone once more before deleting your chat with her and turning it off.

when you wake up, you’re bombarded with messages from her. you could tell she’d finally saw your post, cake and some pictures with friends. instead of responding, you ignore her the way she did you.

an hour later, there’s a knock on your door. when you open it, you’re greeted by a shivering pathetic vi. faux pouty face and a bouquet of roses stuffed into her fist. fingers adorned with rings, knuckles white, breath irregular. “the fuck is wrong with you? can’t answer your phone?”

you’re taken back. some part of you expected an apology to come out of her mouth, the other part knew exactly who she was. you should’ve known she had some snarky remark lodged in her mind. just waiting for you.

when you don’t respond, and just cross your arms, she becomes irritated. “you gonna let me in? it’s fucking freezing.”

you step out of her way, watching as she stumbles into your apartment. she places the flowers on the counter and begins rubbing her hands together to keep warm. “the flowers are fake. winter and all.” she shrugs.

“vi, the fuck are you doing here?” you snap, you can feel the heat of your anger bubbling in your stomach. you’re almost grinding your teeth.

“i know i’m a little late, but happy birthday.” she shoots you a toothy grin, arms held out for a hug. you push past her, heading to your living room and returning back to your comfortable position on the couch.

“damn, no thank you?”

“vi you’re two days late, those flowers are fake, and i don’t really want anything to do with you. so, do yourself a favor and walk right back out that fucking door.” you point a harsh finger towards the tv, showing the weather. “there’s about to be a storm, you better get going.”

vi can’t help but laugh, a full deep laugh. she’s holding her stomach while her head falls back a bit. “another year, same humor.”

you push yourself up off the couch, feeling your voice raise in volume. “i’m not fucking joking. get the fuck out vi. fuck you. fuck you. fuck you!”

you can see in her eyes that she’s growing annoyed and incredibly impatient with you. your smart ass mouth is gonna get you in big fucking trouble someday. she thinks, you’re so lucky she’s as gentle as she is with you.

“you’re not really angry, you’re hurt. i understand. let me make it up to you.”

you laugh. “with your fake fucking flowers?”

you’re barely given time to prepare when she starts walking towards you. backing you up against the couch, watching as you almost trip, then continuing towards you until you’re against the wall.

she towering over you, heat blaring from her nostrils. both hands at either side of you, muscles flexed full force. brows furrowed as she watches how your demeanor changes. from confidently yelling to scared to breathe.

she places a hand on your cheek, to which you slap away, which causes her to grab your wrist and pin you against the wall.

“you know how this always ends, so why are you giving me such a hard time?”

you melt as she leans in closer, lips grazing your ear. face nuzzling into your neck, leaving sloppy wet kisses. smirk on her face as she hears the little whines you try to conceal. the way you’re leaning into her touch and how pathetic it is that you fold so easily.

“you just need to relax a bit. let me-“ her other hand slips between your thighs to cup your clothed heat. “-take care of you.”

“vi.” you whimper, trying your best to fight her touch and failing. she knows all your sweet spots and it’s so easy for her to weaken you. now you’re cursing yourself for ever opening the door.

she slips the hand down your joggers, cold fingers toying with your clit. slick making a mess of your underwear. you shudder, and open your mouth to speak, but she swallows your words with a kiss. when she feels your thighs beginning to close, she uses her knee to spread them apart, getting a loud moan out of you. she slips two fingers into your aching hole and begins fucking up into you.

your eyes roll back, finding it hard to contain yourself. your mind and body are no longer in tandem. brain trying to push against her tricks, body giving into her touch because it’s so fucking good.

and she can tell, with the way you clench around her. it doesn’t slow her pace down though, in fact, she adds another finger and fucks into you faster.

“you don’t have anything to say now? do you?” she teases. you try to muster up a good defense, but the only thing that falls from your lips is a moan. she’s hitting your sweet spot and it feels like you’ve ascended to heaven.

“fuck vi.” you cry out. feeling the orgasm bubbling in your stomach. you can hear the way her fingers are sliding in and out. you’re so wet you’re sure that there’s a puddle underneath you on the floor.

after you come, vi kneels down to clean you up. licking at your sensitive bud and getting the taste of you all over her tongue. smiling against you when your legs start shaking and your fingers tangle themselves in her hair. she liked you so much better like this, a whiny fucking mess. instead of a whiny fucking bitch.

and you knew exactly how to shut up and take it.

[themostlesbianever]

College AU Sevika x reader chapter 3

A/N: I am genuinely so sorry for having y'all wait for so long😔 I was busy with Christmas prep and then Christmas.

I will be trying to post more frequently but im not promising anything.

Thanks for all the support so far🙏🙏 Enjoy!

more parts

(This is semi-proofread, its nearly 3 am and im tired, but i wanted to give you the next chapter)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks have passed and you’re settling into the college routine nicely, struggling here and there but still, nicely. You and Sevika have been getting closer as well, you would even go so far as to call her a friend. You don’t see her all the time because she’s busy with schoolwork, friends and extracurriculars. Just like you. After a day or 2 you had found out she plays rugby which was understandable with the way she was built. She also frequents the campus gym, lifting impressive amounts of weight while making it look easy.

You’re sitting on your bed reviewing some sheet music, you had always been a bit of a band kid, trying out a bunch of instruments before finally settling on the trumpet. You signed up for band at college and managed to get in. Together with, obviously, Ekko, who plays the drums. Sevika is also sitting on her bed but she’s on her phone. You glance over at her, it looks like she's texting someone.

Then the corner of her mouth lifts up slightly. “What are you smiling at?” you ask, the sudden noise makes her smile drop and her gaze move over to you. “Nothing” she replies, clearly lying. You raise one brow at her and tilt your head slightly, making her rethink her answer.

“Okay fine, so there's this girl an-”. She stops talking when she sees your facial expression change from interested to surprised. “You like women?” you question, and now it's her turn to look surprised. “Was that” she pauses for a second. “Was that not obvious?” she asks, a hint of confusion in her voice.

You simply blink at her and shrug your shoulders. You tell her to continue and she lets out a small chuckle before doing just that. “Well this girl, Rose, slid into my dm’s complimenting one of my photo dumps and we started talking. And now we're kind of flirting, I guess.” A small smile starts to creep onto her lips as she speaks.

“And she’s like, SO pretty oh my god” she continues. “Does she go here?” you ask and she nods. “Anyways” she mumbles, trying to shift the attention off of herself and onto you. You’ve noticed she does that a lot, she doesn’t like talking about herself and is quite closed off. She has been opening up a tiny bit to you as you’ve gotten to know each other. A little fun fact here, a random memory there. It’s been nice.

“What have you been staring at for the past like, hour?” she asks and you sigh before speaking. “It’s the new music we got for band. It's incredibly annoying to play and I have to memorize it.” She furrows her brows a bit. "Wait." She pauses and looks at you, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “You’re a band kid?” You can’t help but be slightly offended.

“Why do you say that like it's a bad thing? I’ll have you know, I'm very cool” You say while pointing your index finger at her. “Oh I believe that, don’t worry.” She chuckles. “What instrument do you play?” You proudly tell her you play the trumpet which she admits is quite impressive.

She then gets up from her bed, walking over to you and grabbing the music sheets from your hand. Her eyes scan the paper, the more she reads the more her brows furrow, after about a full minute of her looking at the sheets in silence, she looks up at you and speaks. “what the fuck.” You laugh at that.

“Exactly what I’m thinking” you say. “How do you read that shit, seriously?” She asks and gives the pieces of paper back to you. “Oh I've been playing for years, I started with lessons. At first I was actually learning, I learned all the grips and notes, how to hold it correctly, bla bla bla. But then it became learning and memorizing random songs I didn’t care about. So I quit. Just the lessons tho, I never stopped playing.” You explain.

She listens intently, nodding along as you ramble on about your many teachers, performances, friends you had made along your musical journey and how you had begged your mum for your very own trumpet. Quitting lessons also meant having to give back the trumpet they had given to you. Well, not really given, your mum had to pay a monthly fee for lessons and said trumpet.

After a little while you realise you’ve been rambling and apologise. “Oh I’m sorry, I talk a lot” you say quietly. The room suddenly feels very warm, your face heating up in embarrassment. “You’re fine dude” Sevika says. “It’s very entertaining, so don’t worry. You can talk however much you like.” She offers you a soft smile. You smile back and thank her.

Somewhere during your ramble she sat back down on her own bed and leaned back against the wall. She still sits there unmoving, just looking at you in silence, it’s a comfortable silence that the both of you sit in for a bit before you remember you should really be studying this music and look back down at the sheets.

After a while of reviewing your sheets, practicing changing the grips by pretending you’re playing and counting how long you have to be silent for before you have to start playing again, you have had enough. You inhale deeply and breathe out in the form of a sigh. Sevika looks up at you, a questioning look in her eyes. You hold the sheets up and she chuckles.

You hop off your bed and pull out a binder from one of the bed drawers, placing the music sheets neatly where they belong before closing it and putting it back inside the drawer. Then Sevika speaks. “You said you own a trumpet, did you take it with you for band? Or do you get one from the school”. You turn back around and rest your hips against the wooden frame of your bed, facing Sevika who is still sitting on hers.

“I think there's an option to rent an instrument from the school but I took my own with me, I just prefer it over a random trumpet. Not that they’d be super different from each other but you know. Plus it was possible they wouldn’t even have one for me.” You answered. She simply nods before asking to see your trumpet.

You agree and walk over to your closet, where you store your trumpet, and take it out. You put the storage case on your bed and unclasp it, opening the lid and stepping aside so Sevika can see. She gets off her bed and steps over to the open case. She reaches one of her hands out, glancing over at you as if to ask for permission to touch it. You nod and she runs her fingers over the cold instrument.

“It’s quite pretty” she says and you let out a small huff of air that could be considered a laugh. “It’s really not Sevika. It’s old and it's not as clean as it used to be” you admit and she shrugs. “I think it's pretty.” You’re about to tell her your old trumpet really isn’t that special when you hear a knock at the door.

Sevika walks over and opens the door slightly to see who’s knocking, she opens it all the way when she sees its Ekko. He steps inside. “Dude, do you ever read your texts?” he questions. You shoot him a confused look, he sighs. “Sorry dude, I was reviewing the new music. You are aware we’re supposed to start memorizing it. right?” you ask him, genuinely wondering if he had listened to the given instructions.

“Of course I’m aware” he says while rolling his eyes at you. “Anyway I wanted to ask if you wanted to get lunch. But you weren’t replying so I decided to come over before our possible lunch plans turned into dinner plans” he says, then he looks at you with a disappointed look on his face. “I thought of that amazing joke and I don’t even get a smile? Rude”

“It really wasn’t that funny” you tell him and he rolls his eyes again. Then he looks at Sevika, a hopeful look in his eyes. “Don’t bring me into this.” She says and throws her hands up in the air.

“Fine, but do you wanna get lunch or not?” He asks, looking back at you again. You nod before turning to Sevika. “You wanna come with us” you ask. “Sure why not,” she shrugs. You close the trumpet case and put it back in your closet. “Lets go then.”

____________________________________________

please feel free to comment your thoughts🙏

Tag list: @0eatmysoulll0-blog @misswynters @vikaswife @ladycupa0-0 @d3adbrainer @vintage-karma @gravegoer

[k-hotchoisan]

In honour of you getting 500 followers(congratulations🥳🥳🥳🥳),

Can you no.20 from your masterlist, pretty please?

20. Send dirty videos to Yeosang or Receive audio porn from Mingi?

You KNOW I have a voice thing, let alone for mf SONG mINGI. Just thinking about what kind of sounds he makes…. hMMMM OKAY. 😔✊🏻

Where you’re wondering why your bestie is replying you at erratic intervals, until a voice message pops up that pretty much changes the trajectory of the night.

Genre/Content warnings: smut, audio porn mingi, masturbation, orgasms, dirty talk, mingi that’s enough moans mingi please

Tag list: @bro-atz, @diamond-3

You don’t know why Mingi has this whack ass habit of spamming you messages and replying at once and then, suddenly he just stops.

And then his replies just becomes erratic, sometimes it’s just full of typos, as if he’s in a rush. You could never figure it out. But you never bothered to dig deeper into it, deciding to leave it as it is.

That is, until that one audio message he sends you that one night when you and your friend group were on vacation. The worst part is that he never even addressed it after that.

That night when he was back with his strange texting habits again even though your rooms weren’t even far apart in the vacay house, you were about to just ignore his message and head to sleep, until the status under his contact name changes to “…is recording a voice message”. You furrow your eyebrows, maybe he was tired of filling his texts with funny typos.

The only problem was that the audio message took a little over seven minutes to record and you’re wondering what the hell does he have to say that’s seven minutes long.

Then it sends.

You absentmindedly tap play.

The audio starts off silent, then a few seconds later, you hear what it sounds like is squelching. You lower the volume slightly, and fit the speaker at your ear to try to get what’s even going on.

“Fuck. Oh god. Oh my fucking god”.

It doesn’t take more than a second for you to realise what it was.

And then he fucking moans. One that sounds so desperate and then jumps up in octave, accompanied by more wet sounds.

“God, fuck”, he whines. “Ugnf- god I wanna fuck your fucking pussy so bad, y/n.”

You blink. Wait, what?

“A-ah…” and it sounds like he fucked his hand to a sensitive sensation. Then another whine. “Ughh… so good. Fuck me.”

You feel your face flush. It’s as if he’s right at your fucking ear, in a moaning mess just fucking his hand as his cock leaks more precum to lube up his dick.

It goes on for another couple of minutes, a ton of pussy leaking sounding moans, as he tries to reach his orgasm, and a lot of your name being moaned in between.

“Y/n, fuck. Let me beg for your pussy. Ngh, please. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“I wanna fit my whole cock into her pussy so fucking bad. Wanna make sure she feels just as good as I do, oh fuck.”

He gasps when he feels the knot tightening in his stomach, and you hear it loud and clear.

“Feels amazing. Shit, I think I’m gonna cum. Gonna cum so much…”

“Fuck! I’m cumming. fuckkkkkkkk!”

And his cries as his orgasm drags on, and you never would have thought he sounded so fucking sexy when he cries. His cock only sounds even wetter and wetter. You’re imagining it now being just full of his cum—thick and all lubed up.

“Oh my god, fuck it’s so much. So much cum. Fuck, imagine it’s all in you”, he whimpers.

You rise from your bed, doing your best to ignore how fucking soaked your cunt and underwear was. You storm over to his room, rapping on the door. It takes him a couple of seconds to answer, and when he does, he’s shirtless, and only in his underwear.

You don’t even greet him, pulling up your phone and point to the audio message he sends you. Mingi raises his eyebrows like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

Until you play the audio recording and his eyes blow wide open, and he snatches your phone from your hands. You still have your arms crossed.

“Shit, it got recorded?!” Mingi exclaims even though he’s staring right at the recording he sent. Damn, looks like his little crush on you has been exposed in the wildest way he could ever imagine.

“Fucking take responsibility”, you mumble, pushing him further into his room before shutting the door behind you.

And now, Mingi’s eyes are staring at you in awe when you push him onto his bed and straddle his lap. That night, Mingi’s voice isn’t the only thing that bounces off the walls.

Well at least now you know why he can’t seem to type for shit.

[milf-murdock]

Your writing is literally phenomenal - sincerely, someone who just binged your entire masterlist!! 💗 If you’re interested in this, I’d love to see dark!simon doting on reader when she’s finally pregnant 🤭 I’m sure he’d wait on her hand and foot, soothing and comforting her, but also being so smug because he’s literally a mastermind who’s been planning this for ages

Thank you so much for the kind words, love 🥹🥹 Comments like this mean the world to me and inspire me so much to keep writing 🖤

I fucking loooooooved this ask. When I tell you my brain was instantly just braining. However, I must be fully honest with you 😔 This is so fucking soft. Just. Wildly. Absurdly. Tooth-rottingly sweet. It turns out once dark!Simon actually gets her pregnant he just melts into the sweetest softie ever (shh don't tell anyone). Thinking about writing another part that's filthy smut with dark!Simon and his pregnant girl but I was just so excited about this fluff I wanted to share it lemme know if anyone would want to see that tho

Anyways, here's Simon helping her with morning sickness, Simon hearing the heartbeat for the first time, and Simon feeling them kick for the first time 🥺

Warnings: pregnancy, female reader, mentions of doctors offices, morning sickness, vomiting

Part 1 can be found here and Part 2 (NSFW) can be found here

Simon’s eyes blinked open as he registered your movements. The sound of your footsteps on the floor echoed through the room as you raced to the bathroom. His response was automatic as he rose out of bed, blinking the last dregs of sleep away as he followed your steps to find you kneeling on the cool tile in front of the toilet, dry heaving into the porcelain bowl. It seemed more often than not your mornings started this way. With no hesitation he knelt down on one knee beside you, pulling your hair up and away from your face into a loose pony tail held in his hand. His other hand rubbed soothing circled on your back, gently stroking up and down as he murmured soothing words. 

“I’m sorry, love. ’M sure this bit’s almost over.” 

As if on cue, you wretched once more into the bowl and Simon grimaced at his own poor timing. With a gasp you laid your head on your forearm against the toilet seat, eyes closed while you struggled to catch your breath, one hand rising up to flush the contents down the drain. Simon released your hair and rose to grab a cloth from the cupboard, running it under cool water and wringing it out. 

“Remember, doc said this was all completely normal. Good even, really.” Simon’s voice was nearly as comforting as the cool washcloth he pressed against the back of your neck. “Means the baby is developing and your body’s changing and whatnot.” You finally raised your head up, taking the cloth from Simon and running it over your face. 

“Yeah, still fucking sucks though,” you muttered before leaning back into Simon, his strong arms wrapping around you to pull you into him. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head as one hand snaked down to rest against your abdomen. 

“It’ll pass, babe.” Simon pressed another kiss to your temple. “Besides, you’re still stunning.” 

You raised your head off his chest, shooting him the most menacing glare you could muster. “Not in the mood for your sarcasm, Si,” you grumbled. 

Simon brushed a strand of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. “Not sarcasm, babe. I mean it. You’re glowing.” 

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the soft smile that tugged at the edges of your lips. “Whatever, you’re gettin’ soft.” 

“Don’t I know it,” Simon agreed, pressing another kiss to your cheek before rising and helping you off the floor. “Come on, I’ll go make us a tea.”

___________

It was a well known fact that Simon hated hospitals. And doctors. And, well, really any kind of medical setting. Simon shifted anxiously in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to your exam bed. The sterile smell of medical suite was practically burning his nostrils. His leg bounced up and down at a rapid pace, one hand gripped tight on his knee and the other gripping yours in a similar hold. He looked around the room, taking in all the infographic posters explaining the various stages of pregnancy, health adverts, and more.

“Si.” Your gentle tone pulled Simon from his thoughts, his eyes drifting back to your face. “Relax,” you reminded him softly. “It’s okay. I’m here with you.” You gave his hand a gentle squeeze. His eyes drift from yours down to your abdomen. He swore you were beginning to show, just the barest hint of a swell to your belly. 

There was a knock at the door and then the friendly technician entered, introducing herself to you and Simon before placing a paper drape over your lap and having you lay back. You shifted your shirt up whilst she set up for the ultrasound, giving Simon an excited smile as you settled in.

“Oh that’s warm,” you commented as the tech squeezed a light gel onto your bare skin. 

“Yeah, we have a little warmer we keep it in, just something to help make the mum’s a bit more comfortable,” she commented as she started pressing the wand to your belly. 

Simon’s eyes flicked to the screen, the waves of black and grey indecipherable as the tech  moved around your stomach. 

“Ah, there we go. See? Right….here.” The nurse tapped to a black shape on the screen as she pressed the wand a little deeper into your skin. “There’s your baby.” She tapped a few buttons on her keyboard, taking a picture. “Would you like to hear the heartbeat?” 

You nodded enthusiastically, but Simon couldn’t even get a word out. His own heart was racing so fast, his eyes staring at the screen, taking it all in. His baby. There were no words to adequately describe the pure joy, excitement, and absolute terror he was feeling. Y

You and Simon clung to each other, your joined hands serving as a lifeline for you both, tethering you to this moment. You and Simon each hold your breath, unsure what you’re waiting for. 

And then there’s a whoosh, and the sound of a steady heartbeat fills the room. Tears instantly filled your eyes. “Oh my god, Si,” you whispered. “That’s their heartbeat.” 

Simon’s own eyes were misty as he took it all in. “Yeah, babe. That’s our baby.” He blinked the tears away, internally urging himself to keep it together. He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. “There they are.” 

______

Simon was upstairs tackling the crib that he had been so fucking sure he didn’t need the fucking instructions for, only to find out that the damn pieces weren’t locking into place the way they were supposed to. “Bloody hell,” he growled, tearing through the mess of cardboard and styrofoam to find where he had tossed aside that bloody manual. 

A shout from downstairs had him freezing in place, his blood running cold as the bottom dropped out of his stomach. 

“Simon! Come here! Quick!” You shouted from your place on the couch, urgency in your voice. 

Simon dropped the drill to the floor, racing down the hall and flying down the stairs as fast as his feet could carry him. His mind spiraled, thinking through doctor’s numbers, fastest route to the hospital, or should he call an ambulance? No, he was positive he could drive faster. He rounded the corner, eyes wide and fixed on you. 

“What’s wrong? What’s happened? Are you okay? Is it the baby?” His questions rushed out like word vomit as he strode to your side. He dropped to one knee, a protective hand resting on your pronounced bump, eyes flitting from you to your stomach. 

“What?” You asked, brows furrowing in confusion at the panic-stricken man panting before you. “No, I’m fine Si, just…here…feel,” you commanded, grabbing his hand and moving it to the lower left side of your stomach. “Wait for it…” you muttered. Simon was still trying to calm his racing heart, trying to take in the fact that you seemed perfectly fine. In fact, if anything, you seemed slightly annoyed. 

“Darling, what—” 

“Shhh!” You snapped. “Wait for it.” 

And then Simon felt it. A little force pressing against his hand, a fleeting sensation that was over as soon as it started. 

Simon’s eyes widened. “Was that?” 

“Mmhmm,” you squealed with a smile. 

“They kicked,” Simon laughed, pure awe on his face. He pressed his hand a little harder against your swollen mound, moving his hand just slightly to the right. He lowered his face to your stomach. “Come on, love, let’s see that again.” As if on cue, he felt a swift kick to his palm. Your laugh mingled with Simon’s as the radiant joy overtook you both. 

“He likes your voice,” you commented, smiling down at your bump and placing your hand atop Simon’s. 

“Of course she does,” Simon teased back. You weren’t finding out the gender in advance, wanting to be surprised. You each had your own suspicions though. At the sound of his voice, another kick hit his palm, harder than both the previous ones, causing you to wince. “Oi,” Simon jokingly chided, giving a stern look to your bump. “Take it easy on your mum. She’s working hard to grow you nice and strong.” Another strong kick. 

“Looks like we have a future football star on our hands,” you commented was you rubbed a hand against your sore swollen side. 

“Maybe they’ll play for Man U.” Simon pressed a kiss to your bump, right where the last kick was before rising off the floor to sit next to you on the couch. His lips found yours, kissing you with a fierceness that took your breath away. “Thank you, love.” His voice was soft as he pulled back from the kiss. “For this. For all of it. This is the greatest gift.” 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hopefully this doesn't come off as snarky, but I find it genuinely hilarious that every "big-name" Leona fan that I've seen seems to like him against their will lol. I've always had Leona as my favorite, so it's fun to see the journey other people go through to liking/appreciating him!

Look 💦 I can’t speak for other L*ona likers (regardless of size, honestly; I'm a firm believer that one's level of internet fame isn't a factor in the devotion for a character) but for me—to quote Scar—“my words are a matter of pride.” And by confessing to (ick 🤢) LIKING LION… it’s throwing all that pride out of a window. It seriously does feel like these feelings exist against my will.

I have a summary of my story to explain my relationship with the lion lore 💀 I call it a summary, but it’s still kind of long— It's below the cut for those who are interested!

To begin with, the promotional materials didn’t sell me on him. Everything about how he initially presents—from his arrogance to his “tough/bad boy” design (seriously, that biker-cowboy combo of his dorm uniform is SO ugly and shows way too much skin for my liking…)—was so unappealing to me. He seemed exactly like the kind of character and tropes I tend to dislike. The only “good” thing I saw in him was his face (which, ironically, is what Vil says about him) and maybe his UM chant particularly the line where he demands you kneel before him. Then comes along book 2, which is easily the weakest of the main story and does a HUGE disservice to him, making L*ona seem a lot stupider than he actually is. At that point, I had basically written his entire character off. I claimed to all my Twst friends that there was nothing that would ever make me like him.

Around 2022, I decided to get involved in a round of EBG (Epic Bias Game) which is basically like a test of your will?? You’re supposed to compete with your friends to see who can go for the longest without talking about or acknowledging their oshi (which includes not being able to react to fan works of them). As part of EBG, each participant was randomly assigned a “new oshi” to replace the usual one AND GUESS WHAT, I GOT HANDED L*ONA BY THE WHEEL OF FATE 💀

One of my friends (who knew I hardcore hated him at the time) assured me that this would get me to change my mind. They even went out of their way to write a little story explaining how my OC was forced to spend more time with L*ona, which led me into writing interactions between them to build more of the lore. I managed to outlast the friend in EBG, but didn’t win the entire game. I came out of it not really feeling super different about L*ona, but I think forcing myself to write about him extensively helped me gain a little more perspective on his character. I still didn’t like him, but I at least appreciated his presence in the cast a little more.

AND THEN TWST HAD TO COME AND BASH ME OVER THE HEAD WITH L*ONA CONTENT… All the little vignettes and voice lines where other characters would talk about what a good leader he is (*glares at Epel, Jack, Ruggie, Savanaclaw mobs, etc.*), when he sarcastically claims to be a “delicate prince” or a “lost child”, those moments where he sasses others, times when he’s able to use his charisma and/or intelligence to pull ahead, rare instances when he whips out his royal manners, him respecting women… But I think the turning point for me had to have been book 6 OTL GOOD LORD, BOOK 6 FUCKED ME UP 😭 Him using his UM in a creative way to turn falling glass shards into harmless sand? And strategically turning himself in?? Willingly ceding control of the dorm to Ruggie??? Telling everyone about Styx’s lore???? AND THE BEEF HE HAD WITH JAMIL BUT STILL GIVING HIM WISDOM AND ADVICE… Sometimes I still tear up thinking about how L*ona says “You’re not like me,” to Jamil 😔 implying that part of the reason why L*ona guides others is because he has hope in their futures but not his own… (I’m still salty that EN messed up this line by changing it to “I’m not like you,” which makes him come off as way more arrogant 💦) Anyway, I blame book 6 for being the tipping point in my downward spiral 🌀 IT GOT WORSE IN BOOK 7 WHEN HE STARTED SHOWING HE'S MOTIVATED TO ACTUALLY GRADUATE AND TAKES ON AN INTERNSHIP THAT COULD BENEFIT HIS COUNTRY... Special shoutout to the Club Wear card for being especially hot-- I did my best to hold out against the steady drip of content that called attention to his… positive traits… (Not that I’m saying he doesn’t have any; I mean this in that whenever his strengths as a character are brought up, they really get to me as someone who loves intelligent, mature/responsible types and “big brother” figures OTL) BUT IT'S SO HARD WHEN TWST KEEPS PULLING STUFF LIKE THAT???

Then in 2024 came the stupid Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas event 💀 which finally introduced us to L*ona in full formal attire (MY WEAKNESS) and gave him the opportunity to be in the role of the "hero" and leader... and those Nightmare Suit vignettes 😭 Leona thinking about what it actually means to be "king"... Ugh, it was another strong showing of his character. I'm pretty sure it was this event that started the snowball of my friends (lovingly) bullying me about him and calling me a tsundere about it. Weirdly enough, a BUNCH of things started happening irl to push L*ona at me too. For example, my pet (who usually actively avoids or attacks Twst stuff) was actually eager to pose for a picture with a L*ona standee. In a group fan merch order, I had asked for the bonus Grim sticker but the artist (who had no idea about my complicated thoughts on L*ona) said they were out of the Grim sticker but they had L*ona stickers they could include instead. Most recently, I had just finished this last-minute artwork of Miss Raven eating pocky by herself to celebrate Pocky Day (11/11). Typically the fan art you'd see on this day would involve two characters playing the "Pocky Game" (in which the players try to eat a stick of pocky from either end; usually it's framed as romantic since meeting in the middle results in a kiss). However, I had chosen to do a solo Miss Raven art because I thought this suited her "I want to be taken seriously!" personality better. Well, guess what? I GOT A PACKAGE DELIVERY NOTIFICATION FOR THE TWST MERCH ORDER... WITH L*ONA IN IT 💀 Almost like he heard there was food meant for sharing and he came to claim it for himself... Like I literally did NOT choose for these things to happen to me, THEY HAPPENED ON THEIR OWN. I DON'T BELIEVE IN PREORDAINED EVENTS BUT THE UNIVERSE SURE IS WORKING IN STRANGE WAYS.

So now that the tables have turned, it’s really embarrassing. Everything is coming back to bite me in the butt… It truly feels like L*ona plotted this all along and was on the prowl, patiently waiting for me to get worn down before he pounces and delivers the final blow to my ego OTL Like, it's gotten to the point where many of my long-time friends in the Twst community are now joking that "It's over" for J word... ONE OF THEM EVEN TOLD ME IT FEELS LIKE I'M GETTING DIVORCED AND L*ONA IS THEIR NEW STEPDAD, HOW AM I SUPPSOED TO FEEL ABOUT HTHAT ??????????? ? ? ????? ? ??? ? ?? ?? ? ???? ?

But by the far the worst, the WORST part about everything here is that if L*ona were fully sentient, he would be so smug about recent developments 😡 It makes me SO mad thinking about how he'd look down on me with that hot smug rage-inducing smirk of his and make fun of me for eating my words so badly.

“What was that you said about hating my guts, herbivore? … Hah, it's written all over your face--you're terrible at hiding your true feelings. You can just give in, you know. Tell me how much you worship me. How much you want me. You'll give in eventually one way or another--so why not make this easier for the both of us and save us the time of playing the wait game? I don't bite, promise." (<- a liar)

(Disclaimer: NOT MY MERCH; this is a L*ona Liker friend’s picture that they’re letting me use as a reaction image 😅)

THIS IS FR MY OVERBLOT ORIGIN STORY…

[shalomniscient]

HI! i’ve been noticing a LACK of deren content so….can i request filmed sex with dom! deren??

anon i must preface this by saying i started playing after deren's event so i know roughly nothing about her but i did my best to research how she's like through info on s1ns so if this is ooc i'm so so sorry (i know i could watch recordings of the event. but my attention span... is sadly not robust enough 😔😔😔)

video star || deren x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

cw. strap-ons, overstimulation, squirting, filming (consensual)

notes. it's kind of.......... generic. sorry anon 😔😔😔

"C'mon baby, look at the camera, yeah?"

Deren's voice is floaty, barely able to be registered by you as she fucks into you, thick strap bullying into your tight, clenching cunt. One of your ankles rests on her shoulder, your entire leg braced against her body, while the other lies limp on the edge of the bed. The position allows the camera to clearly see the way your pretty pussy stretches to accommodate the thick toy. Your hands are bound above your head, tied in delicate knots to the headboard.

Deren herself stands between your thighs, and the only thing on her skin is the harness of the strap-on she has buried balls-deep inside of you. She holds onto your leg with one hand, while the other holds the camera she's using to film all your sweet little reactions as she fucks you silly.

Blearily, you open your eyes, and look into the camera lens. Deren's grip on your leg tightens by a fraction when she notices the tears in your lash line, and the way you bite your lip. She zooms in on your fucked-out expression, eyeliner runny and smudged, and snaps her hips harder against you, for once not feeling lazy like she normally is. Instead, her blood runs hot in her veins—a frenzy like Mania bubbling in her core.

"Shit, baby—so pretty like this, hm?" Deren breathes, leaning forward to get a close up on your face as you throw your head back, mouth opening wide as pleasure jolts your body. She thrusts deep with each roll of her hips, and you squirm on the bed, near delirious with pleasure. "My little video star."

"'s too much," you whimper, hands scratching at the ropes binding your wrists, "'s too much, can't cum anymore—"

"Shh," Deren soothes, releasing your leg to cup your face and wipe the tears from your eyes. "You can give me one more, right? I know you can. Be my good girl and give me just one more, baby, for the camera."

You sob as Deren speeds up her thrusts, the wet sounds of her fucking into you ruthlessly echoing throughout the room. She shifts back to her original position, moving the camera away from your face and down to your sopping pussy, zooming in on the way her strap appears and disappears, slick and shining when it catches the light. Her free hand goes to further part your folds, exposing your stiff clit, which she starts to rub roughly with her thumb.

You squeal and your hips buck at the sensation, your leg kicking out. Deren remains unfazed, playing your body like a god damn instrument as she directs it to what's undoubtedly about to be a mind-shattering orgasm for you. The camera shakes with her movement, and the footage is going to be barely usable by her standards, but Deren can hardly care right now, not with the way you writhe on the bed and cry her name like that.

When you finally topple off that knife's edge of pleasure, you do so with a scream, your legs locking around Deren's waist. Your cunt flutters and squeezes around her, as if sucking her in, and with a few more harsh flicks to your clit you squirt streams of clear slick all over the director's abdomen. She sucks in a breath, slowing her hips as you ride it out. Some of your squirt lands on the camera lens, creating a glossy sheen on the footage.

It's absolute fucking cinema.

You babble and sob incoherently, and Deren finally starts to slow down, before stopping completely. She sets the camera down, still recording, and leans down to kiss you softly, her large hands wiping the tears from your eyes. "Such a good performance, baby," she praises, and she means it.

Oh, she's definitely doing this with you again.

[o-pandora-o]

Hello, Pandora! I saw that your askbox is open for WHB (hopefully still is, and if not, please ignore this 🙇)

I just thought of this one: what if MC is kidnapped during a battle? I know the angels would kill them on the spot, but for the sake of the plot... 😂 How would the 4 kings react/feel and go about saving MC?

I don't know what would be better - headcanons, drabble, whatever strikes your fancy and inspiration if you feel like doing this ☺️

Thank you and have a great day/night!

Kings React to MC being Kidnapped

Warnings: Profanity/curse words, used gender-neutral pronouns. I didn't write Lucifer because I don't want him to be OOC. I used MC instead of 2nd person POV since I know some people don't wanna see MC and reader/you/your name(y/n) in a similar manner.

a/n: Thank you for this request anon! Sorry if it kinda took some time 😔. Nonetheless, hope you enjoy this! I hope I answered your request correctly 🥺 if not, please do say so. Thank you so much again! For those asking, requests/asks are open!

Satan

🩸Everything happened too fast, he was busy battling Cherubs, he didn't notice the Angel slipped by him and got MC. All he heard was Sitri and Ppyong screaming "SOLOMON!!!" "MCCCC".

🩸Next thing Sitri and Ppyong heard was crunching sounds from His Majesty Satan.

🩸Satan emitted a red smoke, the next thing happened all the Cherubs and Angels were lifeless on the cold floor.

🩸Satan was so mad, but he was very focused. He followed the angel so fast he managed to catch up. The angel and MC were almost at the border of Gehenna until Satan stopped them.

"What do you have there huh? Stealing what's mine?" Satan said with a bloody grin on his face.

🩸The angel held the MC hostage. "Get back or they die" oh boy was it a bad thing to do.

🩸MC was so pissed and tried to headbutt the angel, but it was to no avail. But MC's wrath is filling up Satan though.

" 'Get back or they die' ? What if you go first, huh? " Satan was speedy enough and punched the angel so hard that they fainted. Satan went near MC to check possible injuries.

"That's fucking right. You get what you deserve for taking hostage what's mine." The angel woke up and tried to self destruct but Satan threw the angel far enough.

🩸Satan looked at MC and kissed them. "What was that for?" MC asked. "My reward for saving you" Satan replied with a grin.

Mammon

🪙MC was roaming around Tartaros when angels invaded the country. There were around 3-4 groups of 77 angels with some cherubs and Michael blasting building per building.

🪙MC was with Bimet but the angels were too many. Bimet told MC to run but an angel caught you and flew away.

"You think you can run away? You filthy human!" the angel said as it clutched to MC's arms and torso.

🪙As the angel talked, they didn't notice the giant gold hand in front of them. The giant hand manage to catch both angel and MC.

"This is what happen when I don't keep my treasure for myself. Someone steals them away..." MC heard this voice and immediately recognized that it was Mammon's.

🪙The angel tried his best to cut down the golden hand but it was useless. The golden hand opened, the angel and MC immediately saw Mammon.

🪙The angel saw Mammon and tried to self-destruct. Mammon was quick enough to get MC, and turned around while kind of hugging them protectively. "I should have kept a close eye on my treasure or else they'll steal you again" Mammon said as he was still hugging MC.

🪙MC could feel Mammon's strong hands on their rear though. All's well that ends well ig?

Beelzebub

🕶️It all started when Beel kidnapped MC leaving an angry Satan screaming "BELLLLLL BRING THEM BACKKKK"

🕶️When Beel and MC are midway to Avisos, some angels came up and so Beel had no choice but to put them down to kill angels at the speed of light.

🕶️There were too many, and apparently one speedy angel got MC, earning a scream from them.

🕶️You think the angels were fast? Think again.

🕶️Beel was actually running so fast he was actually looking at the angel with closed eyes and a grin!

"I see you have my food there! Thank you very much for holding them!" Beel said, still eyes closed and grinning like a madman

"Oh! And thank you for being my dinner for today!" Beel said, as he beheaded the angel and caught MC on his arms.

🕶️MC didn't notice Beel actually looted the angel.

🕶️Well, if MC and Beel went to dinner with food he cooked himself after that battle... *Coughs* MC please find a new dish to eat.

Leviathan

⚰️Angels have invaded Hades yet again, this time with several groups with Seraphs involved.

⚰️MC was eating in the palace with Leviathan. Foras reported angels invasion and it seemed that the angel groups targeted the Palace. Foras and the others will be engaging in battle.

⚰️Few moments had passed and several explosions in the palace had happened. The last straw was the main hall had a hole and one of the speedy cherubs almost grabbed MC but stopped by Leviathan.

⚰️Leviathan now engages in battle, angels of many ranks keep swarming the main hall, targeting MC.

"How did these fools get inside?" Leviathan glares, as he battles the angels.

"Apologies, your Majesty. Some of the angels were long ranged explosive shooters..." Foras said as he hurried inside and battled off some angels.

⚰️Leviathan pushed MC into the coffin but Seraph's power kept MC from teleporting to a safe place. Making Leviathan glare even more.

"Can't teleport little Mx. Prey now can't you?" One of the seraph exclaimed. "Thank you for making this easy for us!" A cherub added.

⚰️Leviathan was really mad, however, he didn't notice another seraph approached and grabbed MC. The Seraph's ability is pure invisibility. When he saw it, he was too late.

"Oopsies! Looks like I got the Prey Gabriel marked! Thanks for the me-" the seraph exclaimed but it was cut when Leviathan uttered a "Haaaah? Who said that you could talk to me like that!".

⚰️The seraph's neck was strangled by tentacles, and each of the tentacles were killing angels one by one. Levi got MC back after the bloodbath.

"All of you! Useless! Hang for an hour!" Leviathan uttered to all of his attendants.

⚰️Levi also hanged himself despite MC saying they're alright. But they also think Levi likes to be hanged anyways.

[thegnomelord]

Seeing people be nerds in your inbox is so fun because I too!! A nerd who loves marine biology as a whole, used to bring an encyclopedia to school everyday in my early days.

But something else I really like are dragons and tbh it's got me thinking

What about a reader who's just a huge fucking nerd, like he joins TF 141 as a new recruit and the first time he sets his eyes on Price he's low-key jittering because!! Whaoh dragon!! Irl!!!! So cool!!!

"wh-whoah dragon"

".. yeah, got a problem lad?"

*rips off sleeve, revealing a dragon tattoo and furiously pointing at it* "I love.. dragon"

Like homie's too excited to realize how fucking weird it is to just, when you meet your new superior you just show him that you have a tattoo of his species.

Imagine asking him dragon related questions to see if the mythology books he collected when he was little said how dragons r was true.

So sorry this was like too silly or comedic or like unserious 😔😔 I just think dragons r cool

-🐙

Okay this is so cute because that would 1000000% be me like I was the biggest dragon nerd and still am.

But like:

Price doesn't know what your problem is. From the way you constantly look at him he ends up thinking you're some kind of fetishist or just see him an animal in the zoo, meant to be stared and pointed at.

He doesn't like the way he can feel your eyes watching his every move, every little twitch of his wing or move of his muscles would have his brain tingling with the sensation of your eyes on him. It was unnerving, and with all the shite on his plate Price didn't need to have you ogling him.

He isn't the least bit pleased when he calls you to his office, the butt of his cigar burning an angry red as he puffs out a cloud of smoke. "What's going on with you lad?"

It's not a question. It's a demand, vibrant blue eyes staring you down.

"I just... really like dragons." You admit, feeling like a teen that got caught with a playboy mag by your parents.

"Uh, huh." He grunts, leans against his desk. "Care to elaborate about your little obsession."

You can feel heat burn at your cheeks at his words, embarrassment gnawing on your gut. "It's nothing like that cap! I just, dragons are cool alright? And I just-" You attempt to explain to him how you just really like dragons, from when you were a little boy you loved learning all you could.

And Price listens to you, continuing to smoke his cigar while you ramble on and on, and he can't hide the fact that a small part of him is a little bit intrigued by the sheer passion in your voice.

"That so?" Price finally cuts off your rambling, a low rumble rolling in his throat, his inner dragon preening at the way you look at him, pupils dilated, heat obvious on your scent.

His wing spreads out a bit, making him look bigger, the bulge in his pants obvious. "Then how about I give you a hands on education?"

[raindailies]

you smell good..

SHU YAMINO X FEM! READER (HIGHSCHOOL AU)

info: pure fluff <3 ~ during a tiring pe class, a certain purple male came up to you..

warnings: none!

A/N: okay so LITEERALLY i had the BEST fucking dream ever tge day before yesterday. I was so sad when the dream didnt have a part 2 yesterday 😔 anywho i had a dream with my crush and it was the most romantic shit every i shit you not.

To ALWASY. be reminded of this i wrote a fic >< enjoy pooksters

𝐒𝐇𝐔 𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎 ✦ !

You had a crush on Shu. If that wasn't obvious enough by the way you act. Anyhow, you two were in the same PE class, usually he's amazing at PE, with those hands you know he's athletic. But today in particular, Shu felt tired. He didn't feel much like participating, which led him into a dilemma since his teammates were yelling at him to run faster and what not. Leading Shu into a conflicting state, he barely talked during the games and he felt.. down.

You wanted to check up on him on multiple occasions, but were scared. Scared to disturb him, what if he doesn't want to talk to anyone right now? What if he doesn't even wanna talk to you?

To respect his personal boundaries, you decided to leave him me until he feels better. Shu was never really an outgoing person all the time, but he always had a calm smile on his face that made you feel better when you look at him. His smile, his voice, his laugh, everything. It hurts to see him so down but there really isn't much of a choice anyways.

As the round came to an end, and the teacher gave everyone a break. You took several glances at Shu, and every time, he looked awfully dark. He was avoiding everyone's gaze and went outside to refill is water. As you took a seat within your group for the round, you saw that your whole group went outside for whatever reason.

Seeing that there was no one in particular around to talk to, you just sat down on the chairs with your head hung low, you were left with your own thoughts and daydreams.

Until someone came up behind you.

Suddenly, you felt a breath near your neck, looking behind you in an instant, your eyes widened when Shu buried his face onto your neck, hugging you waist from the back as you stared at him in confusion.

"S-Shu?? What's wro-"

" 'm tired.." he whispered onto your neck, you could feel his hot breath against the skin of your neck as your face flushed red.

Speechless, you both stood their in silence as Shu keeps his face buried onto your neck, both your faces nearly touching.

"(name)..?" he whispered again, feeling his breath tingle on your skin was a.. new sensation, to say the least. This was unexpected, coming from the one and only, SHU YAMINO?? But you can't say it's an unpleasant experience either. In fact, you actually kind of enjoyed it.

"yes?"

"I feel like a burden on my group.." he said, his voice low and tired as his face is buried onto your neck deeper. Your flushed face glowing red.

"you're no-"

"do you wanna switch class with me?" He spoke in a hushed tone, looking up staring directly into your eyes as you both made eye contact. His eyes were gorgeous.

"are you okay shu?"

"has anyone ever told you that you looked pretty today?"

"...uh.. no?"

"better luck next time" Shu giggled as his face is still nuzzled onto your neck, you stared at him with a big blush on your face.

"oh fuck you.."

"you smell good.. it's different from the smell yesterday."

"what" you stared at him blankly, he chuckled in a low tone.

"Okay okay I'll make it up to you.. is it fine if I.." He spoke softly staring at your lips, your eyes widened and you gave him a quick and swift nod.

"yes."

...

BEEP BEEP BEEP !!

"it's morning..?"

© 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or share my work on other platforms in any way, shape, or form without my permission. if found, you WILL be blocked.

❝𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬❞

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

hey could I be 🦕, if it's not taken?

I also have a request lol, could u do a meltdown comfort fic? ( definitely not requesting this be I had a meltdown over not having the right pasta sauce for my comfort/safe food) like where a male reader has a bunch of little things built up and it spills over when there's no more of readers comfort/safe food and they end up lashing out and having a meltdown because of it

anyways have a good evening,thx!

Hiya, I'm really sorry thats taken 😔 (I need to make a list lmao) - assuming you're not the other 🦕 anon currently in my drafts 😅

I hope this is okay, I don't have autism or meltdowns, so feel free to let me know if I've gotten anything wrong. I don't think the reader in this has a meltdown, he was distressed and then stims to regulate his emotions. But yeah, feel free to let me know if I get anything wrong, I don't want to offend anyone or anything.

Warnings: reader is distressed, meltdown

"(Y/N)? What's wrong-"

"Can you just fuck off?!" Everyone falls silent as the words burst from your mouth. You immediately look down, mentally scolding yourself for yelling at Hotch like that. Hotch. Of all people. Who had been nothing but kind to you since you joined. Who always made sure you were okay. Who was also your boss. "I- I'm sorry-" Your voice is quiet and Hotch has to strain his ears to hear you.

Instead of yelling, like everyone assumed he would, his gaze softens as he looks at you. "How about we head up to my office for a few minutes, okay?" His voice is reassuring and is doing nothing for your guilt and the dread for what he would say when it was just the two of you.

You hadn't meant to snap at him, but everything had just built up and built up and it was your tipping point. You should have just gone home.

It had started this morning when it turns out you had run out of milk - meaning you couldn't have cereal and a cup of coffee for breakfast. Then, you couldn't find the socks you had planned on wearing, you missed the early bus because of how long you had tried to find the socks you wanted to wear, and that made you almost late for work. And then, when you opened the fridge, it turns out someone had eaten the last of your safe foods you kept stocked up in the fridge.

You knew no one on the team would have taken it, they knew you were particular about your food (that's how you had worded it when you first joined the team - they knew the reasoning behind it now, of course but its still how you described it). And they always tried their best to make sure that you had food in the fridge that you liked.

You follow him to his office silently, you don't miss the look he shoots the rest of the team - who quickly make themselves look busy. So you don't feel more on edge than you already do. Your heart twinges at this. You had just yelled at him and here he was, being incredibly sweet to you.

When you reach his office, he shuts the door gently behind him and motions to the couch, you sit. "You don't have to speak until you're ready, whatever you need to do to help regulate your emotions is okay."

You take a moment to process his words before you give a small nod. It takes a few seconds before you gently start to rock, humming gently to yourself. Hotch sits down on the couch, at the other end. He wanted you to know he was there if you needed him, but enough space to do what you needed to. He slowly picked up the book on the coffee table, flicking to the page he was currently on.

Eventually, when your stimming comes to an end, Hotch closes the book. He had been keeping a close eye on you, not really paying attention to the book. He had just wanted to make you comfortable.

"You weren't reading," You state quietly.

"I wasn't," Hotch says with a nod.

"Thank you," You reply. You knew what he was doing - he had done it a few times during similar situations.

"That's alright," He gives a small (rare) smile, "Did you want to talk about what's going on?"

"It's just been a bad day." You shrug, "No coffee, no breakfast, wrong socks, and now no safe food," You felt your cheeks tint pink ever so slightly in embarrassment.

Hotch just nods, "I understand. What snack in particular were you craving?"

"I wanted a chocolate muffin," You shrugged, running a hand over your face. All you could think about was how stupid this all was.

"Is that the Starbucks one?" When you nod, Hotch smiles slightly and rummages about in his desk. "I had a feeling that this might happen at some point. So I stocked up on your safe foods." He said, pulling out a muffin. "There you go. As for drinks, take whatever you fancy,"

You look up, eyes slightly wide at the unexpected kindness. "Thank you,"

"That's alright, and (Y/N)?"

"Yeah?"

"Anytime you're feeling overwhelmed, or if the day isn't going quite right, you're more than welcome to come sit up here, okay?"

"Okay."

[snekxyy]

SPOILERSSSS

Like- pls read after u finish the whole chapter or when you wanna get spoiled !!!

OMFGG

I just finished the whole ass chapter and i got soooooo bloody much on my mind rn zhhxnxbdnd

Even tho he is a low ranked mf

I still think he is cute af 😔💙💙💙

Like- HELLOOOOO ?!?!?

The black tattoos (or whateva they are) are confusing af but dayum hes cute) also a really cool fella (mf chopped of his right foot just to not get angel-fied 💀💀💀 (forgot the in game term but yall got it)

Levi is a cutie patootie (still my least fav character but yes, he is okay too- tried to kill us but now he cool again 😭)

Barb's H scene was STUPIDLY NICE

(the artwork ??? Was splendid- i think it was the first time when pb gave us milkers to look at)

Would have shared a screenshit but aaa its way too mucb for this acc 😭😭😭

.

.

.

BUT

Buuuuut

GAMIGIN THO ?!?!?!?!

D A Y U M

He gave me "little silly child" vibes since when he was first introduced to the game but after this ? DAMN

I swear to god the asmr was DELICIOUS (plissss this aint no "hear me out" naaah- YALL WILL LISTEN, I CANT BE THE ONLY ONE TO FIND THIS STUPID DUDE CUTE 😭😭😭😭)

ALSO I COULD HAVE BET MY WHOLE LIFE ON IT BUT FOR SOME REASON I HAD THIS GUT FEELING THAT HE...

HE GOT 2 FUCKING CAWKS 💀💀💀💀(I MEAN SNAKES HAVE 2 SCHLONGS) SO IG THAT PB TOOK THAT INFO AND THREW IT ON THE DRAGONS 🫦💙)

The asmr from the whole ass scene was DIVINE- I LOVE HIS VOICE SMMMM RAAAAAAAAAAH

Also- whats with this whole damn chapter ? Talking about kids & pregnancies outta nowhere ? Is this some kind of foreshadowing to what might happen in the nect chapters ?

The only time i took a ss when it talked about this was in gami's h scene

When the kiddo showed up in the last chapter, idk who said it but someone did said it looked like mc & min's kiddo

In barb's h scene (ending) he talked about leaving his "seed" in mc or sumthin like that

Then i think it was mentioned a few more times trough the story dhdndbxnnc

Either way this chapter was cool as fuck

Took them an eternity to add it but it was worth the wait xbxbxnfbfnfbfnfnfbfn

Now ill go back amd upgrade my asmodeus, belphegor & lucifer (christmas) cards 🫦💙💙💙💙💙💙