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Caring for Your Neck: Why Regular Massage is Essential?
1. Introduction
The neck is a vital yet often overlooked area of our body, prone to strain and discomfort. Common issues like poor posture, muscle tension, and stress can lead to neck pain, stiffness, and limited mobility. Fortunately, massage therapy can provide relief and promote overall well-being. So, it is required for the sufferers to immediately meet the âbody massage home serviceâ facility when discussing the convenience of massages at home.
By targeting the neck and surrounding muscles, massage can help alleviate tension, improve flexibility, and enhance circulation, leaving you feeling relaxed, refreshed, and rejuvenated.
2. Why Neck Care is Important?
The neck is particularly vulnerable to stress and strain due to its unique anatomy and daily demands. As the bridge between the head and body, the neck bears the weight of our skull, supports our range of motion, and facilitates vital functions like breathing and swallowing. However, modern lifestyles often put the neck under additional stress. Prolonged phone use, desk work, and poor posture can lead to muscle imbalances, strain, and discomfort. Furthermore, the constant tilting and bending of the neck to gaze at screens or read can cause micro-trauma, leading to chronic pain and stiffness. Neglecting neck care can have far-reaching consequences, affecting not only local muscles but also overall posture, mobility, and well-being.
3. Benefits of Regular Neck Massage:
Regular neck massages offer a multitude of benefits, making it an essential component of overall wellness. One of the primary advantages is pain relief, as massage therapy effectively alleviates soreness and stiffness in the neck muscles. By increasing blood flow and reducing inflammation, massage helps to bring more oxygen to the affected areas, promoting healing and relaxation. The best way is to connect with the best âhome massage serviceâ to get the best relief and solutions to neck problems! Massage therapy is also a potent stress-reduction tool, aiding in relaxation and mental clarity. As the neck muscles relax, the entire body follows, leading to a sense of calm and tranquility.
4. How Home Massage Services Make It Easier:
Home massage services offer the ultimate convenience and privacy, allowing you to experience the benefits of professional massage therapy in the comfort of your own home. No longer do you need to worry about traveling to a spa, or dealing with traffic! With the best âhome massage serviceâ for home massage services, a licensed therapist comes to you, providing a personalized and relaxing experience tailored to your specific needs.
In the privacy of your own home, you can fully unwind and let go of tension, enjoying the therapeutic benefits of massage without distractions with the best of âfemale to male massage home serviceâ! This convenience is especially beneficial for those with busy schedules, or simply preferring the comfort of their own space with the best of âSpa best home serviceâ! By bringing professional massage therapy to your doorstep, home massage services make it comfortable for neck care and overall well-being.
5. Choosing the Right Massage Technique for Neck Health:
For optimal neck health, various massage techniques can be employed. Swedish massage promotes relaxation and circulation, while deep tissue massage targets deeper muscle layers to alleviate tension and scar tissue. Trigger point massage focuses on releasing specific knots and adhesions, providing targeted relief. Other techniques, such as myofascial release and lymphatic drainage, can also be beneficial.
To determine the best technique for your individual needs, consult with a licensed massage therapist. They will assess your neck condition, discuss your goals, and create a customized treatment plan. Be open about your preferences, pain levels, and any areas of concern to ensure a tailored approach that addresses your unique neck care requirements.
6. Tips for Maintaining Neck Health Between Massages:
To maintain neck health between massages, practice good posture, use ergonomic support, and incorporate gentle stretches into your daily routine. Take regular breaks to stretch and move, especially during prolonged sitting or screen time. Consider investing in a supportive pillow and adjusting your workspace to promote optimal neck alignment. While these habits can help, remember that regular massage sessions are essential to maintain results and prevent tension buildup.
7. Conclusion
Regular neck massages are essential for maintaining neck health, alleviating pain, and promoting overall well-being. Consider the convenience and relaxation of at-home massage services also with âFemale to male home serviceâ as a recommended option for those looking for personalized care, to prioritize your neck care and experience the benefits of professional massage therapy in the comfort of your own space.
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i have been thinking of kaoru so much layely ohhhmy GOD
#⥠... frappe#AAAAAAAAAA#putting him in my every day situations a lot more#like i have sm projects for school. i want to go to the spa w him to relax#and i want him to princess carry me#and i want him to kiss my hand and be sweet and and and#idk i've been a lot more fem recently (usually im like. in between or masc leaning) SO THIS IS RLLY#WAHWURAAEEAA#usually i want to give him flowers but rn i want him to give ME flowers
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miles and gwen girls day out ⊠..
#miles morales#spiderman#spider man#gwen stacy#ghost spider#spidergwen#spa day ⊠cute clothes shopping purely in the womens section âŠ#i personally think gwen is butch but she enjoys helping miles out with fem stuff#transfem miles
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b.katsuki x reader (fem) | quirkless!reader, prohero!dynamight
a.n; I'M IN LOVE WITH THIS IDEA OKAY? I HAVE HAD IT IN MY DRAFTS FOR LIKE A YEAR ALREADY AND I NEED YA'LL TO RANT WITH ME ABOUT THISSSS<3 it's mostly enemies to loversđ
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG
"For the love ofâ... I'M COMING!"
It's Sunday morning. You have been expecting this day to wake up maybe mid-morning, with the gentle warm breeze coming from your open window; have an exquisite brunch that you have been planning and craving since Friday; maybe watch an episode or two of your favorite show before preparing a full spa day, with a long and refreshing bath included. That's how you have planned your Sunday to go.
But no⊠Apparently, someone's intention was to ruin the whole day for you while their knocks on your door were persistent and annoying at 6 freaking a.m.
You don't think about what you're wearing before stumbling towards the door, with the loud BANGS still sounding. You think of your poor neighbors next door and their newborn baby.
"This little shit," you protest, completely annoyed with this person knocking on your door like someone has died. "Someone better be dead or elseâŠ" You open the door in one strong pull and huff utterly annoyed when you encounter the person behind.
Vermillion eyes collide with yours, the intense hate and annoyance so palpable in the air it almost cuts you both.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
He tchs, rolling his eyes at you. The bile travels up through your esophagus, and you want to spit at him.
"Save the greetings, if you know what a decent greeting means⊠Well, considering how well you just did it, I doubt you fuckinâ knowâŠ"
The muscle at your temple twitches so hard, you believe he is actually able to see it. That would explain his upcoming smirk.
"The fuck do you want?" You repeat, not even caring or taking the time to follow this banter with him. You would normally do it, come back at him with a snarky response that would probably hurt his ego and he would answer back making you even angrier, and yada yada, nothing new to this âhate x hateâ relationship you had with this man in front of you. But today is not a day you planned on dealing with Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki.
He looks down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting a bit with the buttons on his all-black suit jacket you just now noticed he is wearing. Interesting; he never uses formal suits like this one if it isn't for a Hero Gala, and that was only once a year. Or that one time you remember he had to apologize to citizens through a TV interview with Deku because of a villain attack in Hokkaido they couldn't quite contain on time and caused a lot of material damage. You shake your head coming back to the present. Pro Hero Dynamight, a.k.a. Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki is standing right at your door, looking a bit nervous while playing with the buttons of his jacket, furrowing his eyebrows like he is angry even at the air he breathes.
You could have expected anything from this unpredictable man who infuriated you almost twenty-four hours a day, the seven days of the whole week. However, you were not expecting at all the words that come from his mouth after he looks up again and his eyes lock with yours.
"Fucking marry me."
Your eyes open wide. And the only thing you think of doing is punching him. And you do.
Your hands close in tight fists, and before saying anything, you punch his shoulder as strongly as you can with one. You know for sure your small and useless fist won't do any damage to this hulk of a man, but the meaning behind it it's what matters.
He simply looks at you in disbelief. "Ouch?" He smirks. He fucking smirks at you, and this time you punch his stomach, which does make him grunt and hover a bit in pain.
You attempt to close the door right at his face, but he suddenly pushes it with his hand and makes you waver a bit back, holding yourself on the door handle. He stands straight again, retrieving his hand from the door when he realizes he used more force than intended to prevent you from closing the door.
"I- umm- Shit, sorry, I didn't-..."Â
You raise a hand to stop him from talking.
"Just fucking tell me what you want, so I can go back to bed and not see your ugly face for the rest of my day."
You watch in satisfaction how his face contours into full rage. And this time you smirk.Â
"I fucking hate youâŠ" He spits, and you bat your lashes at him while smiling.
"Ah, the feeling is mutual, baby."
Bakugou takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and holding himself on the door frame with strength. You're sure his hand shape will print on it, and you get more annoyed âif that's possible, but you have already learned that when Bakugou was involved, the anger was immeasurableâ thinking that you will have to hire someone to fix that.
"I fucking hate you," he repeats through his teeth with his eyes still closed, but then he opens them, and his entire face changes into something you never expected to see. He looks at you, begging, "But I need you to marry me."
You look⊠perplexed. Again, never in your life have you ever come across the thought that those words would ever come from the man in front of you, much less towards you.
You open your mouth to say something, but the neighbor from the apartment in front of yours opens his door, standing there with his arms crossed and looking menacingly.
"Everything okay, Y/N?" His deep baritone voice asks. Bakugou turns his head and when he sees him, stands straight, head held high and you can imagine the type of defying expression on his face.
You roll your eyes. Men.
"Yes, Arisu, everything is fine. He's⊠a⊠friend," the word stung your tongue because you couldn't consider Bakugou that, even though you shared the same group of friends. But it wouldn't have been good having these two fight over something you still didn't understand what was happening; the thought of who of these two hulk men would win still was entertaining to think about. Your money was on Arisu, of course.
"Alrighâ," Arisu says, looking at Bakugou up and down before retrieving himself back into his apartment.
"The fuck this fucking extra-..." You stop Bakugou from turning and going towards Arisu by holding his arm and pulling him towards you.
"Stop it. Come inside," you demand, pulling him as he watches your hand around his bicep, "before any of my neighbors file a complaint against me thanks to your fucking loud mouth."
Bakugou grunts at your words as he lets you pull him inside. When you close the door and turn to him, you realize how big he looks in your small apartment, where there is barely space between the living room and the kitchen and two doors, one leads to your bedroom and the other to the bathroom. You want to laugh at how uncomfortable he looks.
You take a deep breath, scratching your forehead to regain a bit of patience âwhich was non-existent whenever Bakugou was around.
"Okay, now, explain to me what the hell is wrong with you."
"Nothing is wrong with me. More like what's wrong with you and this small thing you call apartment⊠When did you-..."
"Bakugou! I didn't invite you in for you to start insulting my living space!" You say more exasperated by every second he is in there. "Tell me what the hell happened to you! Why did you come here, almost tearing down the door of my place at 6 in the fucking morning, annoying even my neighbors, and then you fucking propose out of nowhere!"
His lips are held in a tight line as he watches you almost yell at him, hands opening and closing anxiously. There is silence for a couple of minutes before he says, "My father died."
You gasp, taking a step back. Wow. That's something you were not expecting at all. You get now why the black suit. And now that you look at him better, his eyes look glassy and reddish âprobably thanks to how much he's holding himself back from showing any other emotion that isn't anger. And that's⊠sad.
Your arms immediately hug yourself, one hand settling over your chest. "I- I'm sorryâŠ"
"Don't be," he turns a bit to the left, facing the kitchen to avoid looking at you. "Fucker was a right pain in the ass."
You choke on the laugh that almost escapes you at his words, and after you clear your throat you murmur, "Sorry." He looks at you a bit amused, the right corner of his mouth lifted a bit at your reaction.
You sigh again after a few seconds of silence, "Bakugou, what does that have to do with you asking me to-...â
"My great-grandparents are-were the funders and CEOs of TCA Technologies Corp.," your eyes open wide at the name of the prestigious company that had been ground-breaking in the creation and use of robots, before being the number one seller of technology materials to support heroes. They were high class in society, civilians and heroes. "Yeah, that's the face every extra makes," he smirks when you stick your tongue out at him.
He then looks at you up and down and immediately looks away, clearing his throat in a clear gesture of shyness. You frown confused.
"Fucking go put some clothes on."
That's when you remember you had no pants, no bra, and an old shirt that barely covered your panties. Fuck. You almost run towards your room to get changed. All of this had to be a dream⊠or a nightmare.
Your Sunday was entirely ruined. You know that for sure.
After you change to decent, more covered clothing, leggings and a big shirt that almost reached your knees âit is Sunday, dammit, and the hell you are gonna dress up for Bakugou Katsukiâ you walk again towards the living room where you left said asshole waiting for you there. He is now sitting on your couch, his suit jacket lying over the back of it. His elbows are resting over his knees, his hands holding his head. You have never encountered a tired Bakugou, yet here he is. Looking beaten and down.
He looks up at you when he hears you approach him; his eyes are more reddish than before, kind of like when you want to cry but don't let yourself do it. That made you feel bad for thinking about him as an asshole.
"What took you so long, short-legs? Whatever you wear, you'll still stink and look ugly on it."
Nope. He is and will always be a stupid asshole.
You roll your eyes grunting as you let yourself fall on the couch, as far away from him as you can on that three-people couch, crossing your legs under you.
"Spit it out, asshole. What's all this about?"
He sighs, "My father inherited it all after my grandfather died. His whole life had been that stupid company, his and my mother's. I don't give a fuck about it, but the old hack insists that I- ow!"
You pinch him on the shoulder this time, knowing very well that if you had punched him he wouldn't have felt anything. But pinching⊠he did feel that.
"What the fuck was that for?!"
"Don't call your mom like that, idiot!"
"Fucking piss off, you know shit! The old hack is an old hack, she deserves the title."
You shake your head in disagreement but decide to leave that topic there considering how affected he looks by it.
"The old hack said," he simply repeats that to spite you, and you really want to punch him, "that I need to step up and be fucking CEO of that bullshit, orâŠ"
He looks at you, and you gulp, kind of understanding where this is going.
"Or get married." You finish the sentence, crossing your arms over your chest, "But why? Those two options are completely different from one another."
"The sky will fucking fall the day I understand any-fucking-thing that comes out of her mouth. She's nuts!" He protests, arms exaggerating his words as he opens them wide, evidently showing how much stress he has, before laying back on the couch, head resting over the back of it where his jacket is. He sighs long and deeply before talking again, "My great-grandmother had a strong Quirk, but she decided to stay at home instead of being a Hero. Those were other times, ya'know?"
"I know History of Heroes, Bakugou. I'm not stupid."
He looks at you again, this time genuinely surprised, "I, umm, thought you-..."
"Have you ever thought that despite not having a Quirk, I know about heroes?"
He tchs, "No wonder why you and shitty Deku are such shitty nerds."
You roll your eyes for the eleventh time that morning, "Get to the point, shitty asshole."
Bakugou scoffs, clearly holding back a retort to answer back, then he continues, "I'm the first in generations with a strong, hero-level Quirk. Most of my family had decided to live as civilians, building this stupid company from generation to generation."
"Oh, and you are the first actual Hero in the family. You are the first one to choose differentlyâŠ"
He nods in response, "It almost gave my grandfather a heart attack. Ever since my Quirk woke up, I knew what I wanted," he looks back at you, and for the first time, you admit to yourself that you're curious of knowing what he wants, what goes through his head, so you nod allowing him to continue, "I want to be a Number One Hero. I want to kick villains' asses as much and as hard as I can for as long as my stupid aging bones allow me to."
The intensity in his eyes and conviction in every word he spoke made you feel his passion. And that was⊠new.
"But to be that, I can't afford to waste time in falling in love and all that bullshitâŠ"
"Then say no to your mom and the company," you offer as a solution. He snorts letting his head fall back against the couch.
"You know shitâŠ" He shakes his head, "There's a requirement in every hero company, it says that a familiar, or a spouse if the hero is married, has to validate your mental sanity alongside a doctor to keep working as a Hero."
"I⊠didn't know that."
"Of course not, short-legs. You're not a hero, why would you know?"
"So, if I⊠If we get married-..." he nods in confirmation even before you say the words. But he says them.
"The old hag won't have to validate my status as Hero anymore, and she won't have anything to hold me back from sending her and the company to hell."
You looked serious at him, "Bakugou, you and I don't like each other. You hate me and I hate you. And you want to put your Hero status in my hands by marrying me?" You say in disbelief, almost anxious about the whole meaning of this. You stand up and walk from one side to the other as you keep talking, "Why? Because your inner kid is in rebellious tantrum mode and does not want to take the responsibility to-..."
"Shut the fuck up! You. Know. Shit!" He also stood up, shortening the distance between you two in the small living room.
"Then tell me! Explain it to me! Cause to me you only sound like a spoiled brat who doesn't want his veggies for lunch."
He looks you right in the eye, hands almost trembling in fists beside his body, and then he drops the bomb.
"My mother killed my grandfather."
You recoil a step back, "What?"
He sighs, hands and fingers running through his hair, clearly uncomfortable, "I-... There is no proof, no solid proof about it. I just- I know it was her." Again, the conviction in his eyes made you believe him. "My mother wanted the money, the luxury life being with my dad could bring her. But my dad had a brother, an older brother."
"Had?"
Bakugou simply shakes his head, "The idiot got himself in between a shooting from two villain groups. He was shot only once, and it killed him. A fucking looserâŠ"Â
You try, you really tried not to smile but failed miserably. "You are the idiot," you say fighting back the chuckle.
He smiles back, "No, I got shot several times, I even got thrown at and through walls, and I'm very much fucking alive. I'm no weak ass looser as him."
You can't stop laughing, Bakugou definitely is an idiot.
He waits until you're done laughing before continuing, "Even then, my grandfather didn't think my dad was capable of handling the company and all it meant, so he was thinking about giving it to one of his nephews. That's when, I fuckinâ know, my mother took matters into her own hands. I'm an only child. If I say noâŠ"
"The company has to go to another familiar..." Everything washes clear now in your head, âAnd your mom won't allow that to happen. So sheâll lie and say you arenât sane enough to keep working as a hero,â Bakugou keeps nodding, confirming everything youâre saying.
âThat way, Iâm obligated to work at the company.â
Your hand travels from your forehead and brushes your hair back. âShe wouldnât that⊠Sheâs your mom, Bakugou...â
âHavenât you heard a fucking thing I said? She fucking killed my grandfather so the company was legally inherited by my father! Therefore, she could hold all the rights, all the stupid money! My father was a fucking dimwit who believed every-fucking-thing my mother said. She controlled him as she pleased.â
You gasp as another realization hits you, âThatâs why you are an asshole to herâŠâ
âShe can fool anyone, but not me.â He declares, standing tall and proud. âI have never played her game, and I fuckinâ never will.â
You hug yourself once more, taking some minutes to assimilate all the confessions he just dropped on you. Everything feels like a script of a freaking movie or something. And there are too many questions you want to ask. But thereâs only one thing you mostly donât understand and you need the answer to.
So you look back at him, head tilting up a bit due to the height difference between you, and ask, âWhy me?â
Bakugou does not hesitate in his answer.Â
âYouâre strong, despite not having a Quirk. And smart. You donât let anyone dictate what you can or cannot do,â he takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours, âYou have never backed down from a discussion, with me or anyone else. You donât let anybody step on you, holding tight to your convictions and beliefs.â
You visibly gulp, feeling a little warmth in your cheeks that makes you want to look elsewhere, but you don't. You hold the connection between your eyes like dear life. And he smiles, the left corner of his mouth raising a bit.
âYou have a fuckinâ strong character, you won't even shy down from me,â you suddenly feel the back of his index finger caress the right side of your jaw, where lays an old scar he perfectly recognized.
It was the scar he accidentally left when you were younger, stupider. He had picked a fight with another newbie hero âanother asshole in your opinionâ who kept talking shit about his other newbie hero friends. Bakugou had snapped when the guy mocked the word âwhoreâ towards you. You have tried to separate them, earning yourself a punch on the right side of your face by this same man that has touched the reminder of that old memory.
âBut above all thatâŠâ Itâs his turn to gulp, eyes going up and down through your face. Is he⊠Is he looking at your lips? âYou are kind. You care about everyone. You always try to solve everything for everyone âthatâs fuckinâ annoying actually.â
You open your mouth to swear at him, stupid asshole; but he doesnât give you time to say anything. âWhat Iâm trying to fuckinâ say isââ he takes a deep breath, âYou are⊠good. A good person. And you⊠You understand m- us.â
Was he going to say âmeâ? By âusâ, you know he means heroes.
Your parents had been heroes before they died. Unfortunately, you were born Quirkless, so the dream of following your parents' path was decided the same day you were welcomed into this world. You have already made peace with this idea, it didnât hurt like it used to when you were young. Despite not having a Quirk, you specialized in Quirk and training analysis, which granted you a job that most Hero Agencies wanted you for. Hence also how now your group of friends involved all heroes.
However, one thing is working with them, working with Bakugou Katsuki, a.k.a. Pro Hero Dynamight, who was the biggest pain in your ass you have ever had since the day you met him. Another completely different is actually marrying the pain in your ass.
You sigh, âI donâtâ...â
âWhat? You want me to fuckinâ beg? âCause I fuckinâ willâŠâ Bakugou takes a step back and literally kneels before you. You protest, grabbing his forearm and pulling him back up, but he doesnât let you move him even a millimeter. âWhat do you want? Whatever you want is yours. We can even sign a dam contract if you so want, I donât fuckinâ care what it is. Whatever you want, itâs yours.â
âThis is not a fucking joke, Bakugou. You are asking me to marry you. What if I have a boyfriend? You didnât even fucking ask!â
His eyes open wide, surprised. âDo you?â
You roll your eyes, releasing an exasperated sigh. âNo! I donât!â
âThen, what are you bitching about?â
You groan. âIâm bitching about the fact that I donât know why would you put a whole big deal on me when we hate each other!â
âI trust you.â
Itâs a short answer, his expression is even so neutral and sure that leaves you perplexed. Surprised at how easily he said those words.
âWe donât like each otherâŠâ
âI donât need to like you to trust you, idiot.â It feels like heâs mocking you, but one look into his eyes and what he is saying actually feels right. He is completely sure of what he is saying. âI would even fuckinâ trust you with my life.â
He already does. Every day, at work.
Still, you canât pass the opportunity to piss him off. âWow. Thatâs deep, buddy.â
âFuck you.â
Mission accomplished.
You laugh gently, looking at him still kneeling on the floor of your living room. The sight in itself is a miracle. A sight you won't get to see ever again from this man. But itâs not the image of his kneeling position that makes you take the decision.
Itâs his eyes.
They are screaming, desperately begging for you to help him. And, damn it, he is right; you always are at the disposal of everyone when they need your help. Fuck! It is actually very annoying âbut you will never admit that out loud, especially not to him.
You close your eyes, head tilting back, and take a long, deep breath.
You are so going to regret this.
âFine, Iâll do it.â
Bakugou Katsuki immediately stands up and practically throws himself at you, his whole hulk of a body surrounding you in what you have never thought would ever happen between you two: a hug.
Are you though?
#mha fanfiction#bnha fanfiction#mha bakugou katsuki#bnha bakugo katsuki#bakugou x reader#bnha bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugou x reader#mha smut#bnha smut#mha bakugou x reader#mha drabbles#mha imagines#mha angst#mha fluff#bnha imagines#bnha scenarios#bnha drabble#bnha fluff#bnha angst#bnha x reader#mha x reader#mha bakugou katsuki x reader#bnha bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#pro hero dynamight x quirkless reader
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Kinktember Masterlist
31 days. 31 fics. 31 kinks. Over 31 idols.
Mostly male reader with some fem reader and some third person idol x idol.
In this list I will include what I believe to be the 'main' kink, though each fic may contain several.
Masterlist Kofi(donations/commissions)
Kick-off Bonus fic - Pet Play - IVE Jang Wonyoung (ft. Aespa Karina)
Birthday Breeding - IVE An Yujin
Maid Play - Aespa Karina
Foursome/Blowjob - Le Sserafim Chaewon, Sakura & Yunjin
Dollification - Illit Minju
Fingering - NMIXX Sullyoon
School Uniform - ITZY Yuna
Public sex - Le Sserafim Sakura
Hate Sex - (G)I-DLE Shuhua
Spa/Massage - Newjeans Danielle
Mirror sex - Twice Mina
Cuckquean - IVE Liz & Wonyoung
Electrophilia - Aespa Winter
Car sex - (G)I-DLE Miyeon
Spanking - Le Sserafim Chaewon
Stand&Carry - Kepler Youngeun
Pool sex - Twice Tzuyu
Rope Bunny - ARTMS/LOONA Heejin
Fluffy Romance - IU
Mutual Masturbation - Newjeans Hanni Ă Minji
Sex Tape - Ex-Izone Jo Yuri & Stayc Isa
Gangbang - TripleS Seoyeon, Sohyun, Kotone, Nakyoung, Yubin, Kaede, Dahyun and Yooyeon
Overstimulation - Illit Moka x Yunah
Edging - (G)I-DLE Yuqi
Vicarphilia- IVE Gaeul
fluff Rough Sex - VIVIZ/Gfriend Eunha
Futanari - NMIXX Bae x Jiwoo; Haewon x Kyujin; Lily x Sullyoon
Degradation - Aespa Ningning & Giselle, Kepler Xiaoting & Yeseo and TripleS Nien & Xinyu
Scissoring - ITZY Ryujin x Yeji
Ice Play - Fromis_9 Hayoung
Reader Free Use - Red Velvet Seulgi
#kpop smut#male reader#kpop fanfic#smut#m reader#girl group smut#female reader#lesserafim smut#twice smut#ive smut#fromis 9 smut#aespa smut#gidle smut#iu smut#izone smut#stayc smut#itzy smut#nmixx smut#illit smut#loona smut#artms smut#kep1er smut#kepler smut#newjeans smut
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lending a hand â lando norris
lando norris x fem!reader [5.5k] summary: exams are coming up and studying for it turns out to be more tedious than usual. luckily, lando is around & more than eager to lend a helping hand. warnings: 18+ fingering, dirty talk, protected sex (piv), brief oral, doggy, missionary, dom!lando, derogatory name calling, choking, slapping (lando smacks a tit and ass lol), everything is absolutely consensual a/n: HI EVERYONE!! i know it's been agesss since i came on here and i'm still kind of on a hiatus because i just haven't been feeling tumblr lately. i wrote this piece a while back for another cc but they've since then showed themselves to be a bad person and i don't wanna be associated with that. so i rewrote and added some things because i really like this one. so hopefully you do too :') i love u and miss u all so much, i'll hopefully jump back on when i've got my mojo back!! read before interacting: I suck at biology and googled every single medical term and everything itâs got to do with it. iâm so sorry if i wrote something incorrectly, please donât come for me. thank you x
The air was stifling hot and damp, your fingers were cramping up and the words on your textbooks were starting to blur into one big mess the longer you stared at them. There were so many books laid out in front of you, pictures of cartooned organs and human anatomy that on any other day, would be of massive help. But right now they just made your head hurt even more.
When your fingers cramped up for the fourth time, you let go of your pencil and watched it land softly on the sheets in front of you. You were in serious need of a massage, tension rippling in your body that would only perish once your final exams were over and done with. It wasnât long until you took them, two weeks to be exact but the stress was weighing heavier on you than youâd like to admit.
The only thing pushing you forward was the fact that youâd be one step closer to graduating and the promised deep massage in Monacoâs finest spa.
Your boyfriend had been the true pillar in your life. Lando been so patient and tried to help in any way he could when youâd seek comfort in his arms and awkwardly stumbled words. Poor thing didnât know how to make your stress go away when you were at your worst, but he certainly tried his best and that was all that mattered. Lando felt helpless at those times, but he found himself relaxing when he held you and could feel the tension in your shoulders lessen.
Youâd been neglecting him for over a week now, but he was nothing if not understanding and he took advantage of that time to spend more in front of his computer with his friends or even the racing sim, while you holed up in your shared bedroom.
It had made you feel a little guilty at first, seeing as it was his season break and heâd intended to spend his free time with you but your schedules didnât align enough. There were only so many hours you could spend procrastinating before the stress got to be too much.
Youâd first opted to sit next to him while he played and streamed but youâd found him too big of a distraction so it hadnât been long before you migrated to your bedroom. Hearing him from down the hall was comfort enough.
It was as if your thoughts had summoned him, the creak of the door pulling your attention to it and you blinked away the blur in your eyes to watch his upper body and head peak through the space. The curls on his head were wild, unrulier than usual and youâd have taken a step back to admire them if you had the strength to.
âYou alright?â He asked tentatively, and you nodded with a wave of your hand; Gesturing for him to come in because suddenly you were in need of his comforting hug.
Heâd gone quiet in his office a while ago and you figured heâd gone offline, not hearing a peep from him. Or maybe youâd had, and just didnât notice.
âYou need a break.â Lando murmured as he stepped inside, coming to stand by the bed.
You blinked up at him and realised the blur in your eyes were from unshed tears of exhaustion. It seemed as if Lando realised it at the same time you did, letting out a surprised soft laugh as he pouted his bottom lip in sympathy.
âDarling.â He reached out both of his hands to cradle your face, thumbs reaching out to swipe beneath your eyes. âThis isnât healthy.â
âIâm not crying, I swear.â You placed your hands over his, letting out a watery laugh at the worry in his eyes. âIâm just tired. These words arenât making sense anymore.â
Lando made a sound in his throat, turning to plop down on the bed. You tried to keep the scowl from showing on your face when he moved around the meticulously arranged papers on the sheets, but he saw it and grimaced in something you guessed were apologetic.
âHow about we go out and get something to eat?â Your boyfriend suggested, laying down on his side and propping his head up with the help of his hand.
âIâm not hungry.â That was a lie.
Youâd been cooped up in your room for over - you glanced at the clock and winced - three hours, and the last time youâd ate was a bowl of yogurt and granola. It wasnât healthy, and you always made a point of eating before your insides started twisting with hunger, but it was easy to get carried away while revising.
âDonât pull that shit on me.â Landoâs eyes rolled, reaching a hand out to nudge you in the side to garner a reaction out of you. You jumped with a startled giggle, swatting at his hand. âJust an hour and then weâll be back, I promise.â
You shook your head, no matter how tempting that offer was. You knew yourself well enough to know that youâd go out to eat, come back and then push studying aside to cuddle in bed with him. And seeing as the both of you hadnât gone further than kissing for the past week, Lando would definitely not protest if you procrastinated in order to spend some quality time with him.
âLan, I love you but I really cannot abandon this until Iâm done.â You gestured to the mountain of stress in front of you.
Lando followed the gesture with his eyes, stretching a hand out to pluck a notebook with your scribble on it. You watched him scan it, a furrow making its way between his bushy eyebrows and it made you smile involuntarily. He looked absolutely adorable and so very confused.
âMedical terminologyâŠâ He read before trailing off with a sound of aversion. âSo⊠What? You need to memorise these words?â
It would be a lie if you said that you hadnât been a little distracted while he skimmed over the pages as if he understood what the words such as Popliteal and Supraclavicular meant. You were too busy looking at the arch of his nose and the tempting pout of his lips, admiring the slight redness covering the apples of his cheeks.
His eyes flicked up and you blinked back to reality, ignoring the teasing smile playing on his lips as you answered his previous question with a forlorn nod. You watched him light up slightly as an idea struck him.
âWhat?â
âWhat if I help you out?â He asked, sitting up slightly.
You almost laughed. Help? Youâd be a delicious distraction.
âHow would you help me?â You asked instead, smiling as he sat up fully and waved the notebook in his hand between you two. As if that would answer your question.
âMay I?â He asked and you looked at his hand hovering over the textbooks.
It took you a second to realise what he was asking and you almost shook your head no, but Lando looked too excited and you werenât about to rain on his parade so you nodded.
He didnât waste any time with packing everything up and placing them in a surprisingly organised pile on the floor by the bed, keeping the notebook heâd been holding close by as he scooted up the bed and laid down with his head on the pillow. You gazed at him questioningly, feeling lost.
âWow⊠You sure cleared my confusion up.â You said slowly after a beat of silence.
You watched your boyfriend roll his eyes, so sassy and so Lando it made your chest hurt with adoration.
âAlright smartass. Come here.â His hand circled your wrist and the tug almost sent you flying over him. You squealed in surprise, thankfully steadying yourself before you toppled over and looked down on Lando between the curtain of hair that had fallen over your face. âSorry.â
You slapped his chest lightly and rearranged yourself so you were straddling his thighs gently as heâd probably intended to have you do from the start. The position made unexpected arousal flare up in your abdomen and it wasnât disappearing any time soon with the way Lando was looking up at you from his position.
âAlright, can you please tell me whatâs going on?â You asked nicely and placed your hands over his where theyâd snuck up and found a home on your thighs.
He freed one hand and grabbed yours, fingers slotting nicely between yours and you resisted the sudden urge to grind down on him. Something about this man made you shamelessly feral.
âOkay so, you have to memorise all this gibberish and what better way than to practice on me?â He finished his sentence by tugging softly on your hand and you bent down when you understood his silent request, slotting your lips against his.
His lips felt soft and you couldnât help but open up to his tongue, your body automatically melting into his as his free hand found its place on the small of your back to pull you in closer.
You allowed yourself a few seconds before sitting back up in his lap, feeling slightly disoriented.
âIs this your way of getting me into bed?â You narrowed your eyes jokingly in suspicion, earning a laugh from him.
âNo, I genuinely want to help. But I wouldnât mind you in bed with me, either.â He replied, pushing his hips up to readjust his position and jostling you in the process. âGo ahead, where do you wanna start?â
You pursed your lips in thought, deciding that starting at his face and working yourself down was the best way to do it. You were, after all, already sat on his legs and had made yourself quite comfortable. With your decision made, you placed one hand on the left side of Landoâs head and got close to him.
Lando sucked his lips into his mouth, big eyes watching you in silence but his facial expression said it all. It truly had been too long since youâd had sex, but maybe there was a way of incorporating intimacy into studying. Who birds, one stone and all that.
âSo, this is the frontal.â You murmured, the other hand coming up to swipe a gentle finger across his forehead before moving down to his cheekbone. âThe zygomatic bone.â
Lando blinked slowly, but he stayed silent as your fingers trailed down over the slope of his nose. A giggle left your lips as he scrunched his nose, the skin moving beneath the tips of your fingers.
âThe nasal,â You muttered, trailing your fingers up to gently touch his eyelids as he closed his eyes. You couldnât help but place soft kisses over each of them, watching him flutter them open to look at you. His eyelashes were ridiculously long and seductive. You hated it. âOculus.â
Lando shifted beneath you, tongue coming out to wet his lips and you were immediately drawn to the sheen of them. You let out a small desperate breath, closing the small distance between the two of you for a kiss. Your boyfriend made a sound in his throat and you pulled back barely an inch to whisper.
âOral cavity.â Before diving back in for a second kiss that he was more than happy to reciprocate.
It was easy to lose yourself in his touch and the warmth of his body against yours, your hand coming up to grab his thick hair in your grip while his circled around your body to pull you flush against him.
âLandoâŠâ You let out a small whine when he pulled back to bite on your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth in a way that had your toes curling. âFuck me.â
Any other day and youâd probably flush at the way you sounded so whiny, but you didnât have time to overthink it before your boyfriend gathered up what remained of his self restraint to pull back. You chased his lips and only got a nip back, making you pout down at him.
âKeep going.â He ordered and you scooted up so your nether regions were flush against each other. He hissed your name in warning, âDonât be a brat, finish what you started.â
You huffed and opened your mouth to protest but caught yourself when you saw the expression on his face. Shit, he really wasnât playing around.
âFine.â You bit out, wiggling a little in place to feel the smooth hardness of Lando between your legs.
The man in question tutted and reached out to grip your throat in a hold, gentle but it was strong enough to catch you off guard and still yourself in his lap.
âWhat is this part called?â He asked, awfully casual for someone who was half hard with their hand wrapped around your throat.
He flexed his fingers lightly and you searched your muddled brain for the answer, fighting the urge to moan when he squeezed. It wasnât fair, he knew what he was doing to you.
âThe esophagus.â You whispered, not daring to look away from his intense gaze as he carefully unwrapped his fingers from said body part, two of his fingers tapping your chin before resting on your bottom lip.
âOpen.â He commanded softly and you did, without question.
You held his eyes as he slid two fingers inside, tasting the saltiness of his skin as he stroked over your tongue. The urge to gag hit you when he slid too far down, eyes watering when he wiggled his fingers inside teasingly.
âWhatâs this called?â He asked, and you could see the teasing pull of the corners of his mouth when you glared down at him.
How am I supposed to respond with your fingers down my throat? Your eyes screamed, but Lando merely raised his eyebrows and pressed his fingers forward in retaliation.
You gagged, a sound of despair escaping your drooling mouth.
You tried to reply with âPharynxâ but the words came out as a jumbled mess and you drooled down his fingers. But it was apparently good enough for Lando because he pulled back slightly to let you breathe more properly, stroking the width of your tongue in a silent command. You sucked on his fingers, cleaning them off of any saliva before he retrieved them entirely.
âGood girl.â The rasp in his voice made your stomach swoop as he smiled at you, placing his hands on either side of your hips. âGo on.â
You stared at him, not entirely sure what to do but he gave you the answer when he tugged on your t-shirt; A silent urge to take it off. You didnât waste any time, grabbing it by the hem and lifting it off your torso; Almost falling over in the process. Lando chuckled at your eagerness and your face burned, but you refused to let that affect you. The two of you looked at one another for a beat before he dropped his gaze to your heaving, exposed chest. Never had you been happier to have foregone a bra, especially when he stroked both hands up your sides. He felt your skin beneath his palms, a shiver escaping you.
âPlease,â You whispered, grinding down on the hardness beneath you. Your eyes fluttered.
âPlease what?â His voice sounded teasing, bright eyes trained on you.
Instead of answering him verbally, you grabbed his hands in yours and placed them over the swell of your breasts. Lando inhaled at the feel of them in his palms, letting you squeeze his hands in yours. A moan escaped your mouth as his thumbs swiped over your nipples until they pebbled, back arching into his hold.
âSo needy for me.â
His rough voice had you opening your eyes and he mustâve seen something in them because he took pity on you. The yelp that left your lips was anything but attractive when he embraced you and flipped you both over. Lando laughed when you bounced on the mattress, and you couldnât help but giggle as the tension broke.
âPlease, Lando.â You pleaded after the both of you had calmed down from your little fit, hands coming up to feel the taut of his stomach over his t-shirt.
You sounded needy in your own ears but you didnât really care. And judging by your boyfriends teeth sinking into his bottom lip, he loved hearing you like this.
âPlease what, darling?â His eyebrows drew together in fake sympathy, his gaze dropping to your chest when you arched your back.
You opened your mouth to answer him but the words died on your lips the second Lando leaned down and sucked a nipple into his mouth. You shouldâve seen it coming, because he could never keep away from your tits for too long but the suction made you gasp all the same, hands coming up to grab at the back of his head.
âJust fuck me already.â You said.
Lando grabbed the both of your hands in his before pinning them to the side, suckling harsher on your teat before kissing his way over to the other side. You didnât know what to focus on, the cool air on your wet nipple, his unforgiving mouth on the other one or the way his hands were digging into the skin of your wrists. The thought of him bruising you made you buck your hips up, craving it more than ever.
âYouâre impatient tonight.â He drew back, blowing cool air on your saliva soaked skin and making you squirm. âI canât decide whether I should punish you for being a needy little slut or fuck the brattiness out of you.â
You knew you shouldnât talk back, but the words were out of your mouth before you could stop them.
âAnything would be better than this.â It came out as an indignant mutter but Landoâs eyes flared in challenge.
It was quick and you didnât have time to react to his hand sailing down and slapping the meat of your breast. You yelled out in shock, feeling your pussy clench around nothing as you tried to sit up as an automatic response. Lando tutted, quickly grabbing you by the throat and pushing you down with a strength that had you gasping for breath.
âThis is what happens when I donât fuck you for a week,â He hissed, eyebrows drawn in anger but you could see the desire in his eyes as he bent down to your eye level. âOne week without my cock and you start acting like a bitch.â
Holy fuck, the filth coming from his mouth made your nerves light up in anticipation. It had been too long, so fucking long since he talked and behaved like this. You hadnât realised how much you missed it until now.
His hand let go of your throat and instead cupped your chin, his fingers squeezing your mouth together until your eyes fluttered shut in need with a moan. Lando grinned down at you, tightening his grip just to watch your eyes roll before pressing a filthy kiss to your mouth that you barely had time to reciprocate before he pulled back.
It felt like you were in a daze, feeling him pull your sweatpants off along with your panties. He made an offhand comment about the wetness that you didnât register, choosing to grit your teeth and ball your fists to keep from touching yourself instead.
Lando undressed himself without getting off the bed, albeit a little clumsily but he recovered quick and grabbed your thighs to spread them apart. The look on his face made you flush hot all over, almost like you were a meal he couldnât wait to devour.
âLook at that, so wet already.â He hummed in appreciation and coated one finger in your slick before sinking it inside of you, revelling in your gasps. âAll this for me, baby?â
âMmm,â You swallowed, throat drying up and eyes closing at the sensation. âJust for you, Lando.â
âThatâs what I thought.â He said smugly.
He sank a second finger inside and scissored them until he deemed you stretched enough, his free hand stopping your thighs from closing when you started to feel him pull out. It had been too long since youâd been touched like this, and Lando was always so talented with his fingers. He could truly play you like a fiddle.
âDonât.â He growled, the tone of his voice making you squirm and separate your legs obediently again. âGood girl.â
You watched him in silence as he pulled his fingers out, slipping them into his mouth to clean them off with a hum that you felt in your core. Sweat was beading on your forehead and you were sure that you looked a mess. Lando didnât seem to mind it though, his eyes roaming appreciatively over your body before settling on your face. His eyes softened at whatever he saw in your eyes and something warm bloomed in your chest.
âKiss me, please?â You begged, suddenly needing him near you.
Lando didnât hesitate as he bent over to press his mouth to yours, the kiss uncharacteristically gentle consider how crudely his cock was pressing against your mound, one hand sinking into your hair to tilt your head to his liking. He broke the kiss for a moment to reach to the side, opening up the drawer with a groan and rifling through the contents. You watched in mild amusement, taking in the pinch of his eyebrows and the concentration on his face. You took the opportunity to press kisses to his shoulder and up his throat, your tongue tasting the saltiness of his sweaty skin. Landoâs unstable position faltered and you sucked a small lovebite into the delicate skin of his neck for good measure.
âFuck.â He swore with a breathless laugh, steadying himself and sitting upright.
You smiled up at him, planting your feet on the bed and bending your legs so Lando could get even closer to where you needed him the most. His bright eyes found yours, eyebrows rising. He bit into the tinfoil, tearing it open and fishing the condom out to slip it on.
The rubber wasnât needed, not really. But Lando knew you well enough to know when you had enough energy after the deed to clean yourself up, and today wasnât one of those days. He would often do it himself, ignoring your embarrassing protests as he wiped you down with a cloth and eventually giving up when he swatted your hands away.
Anticipation rose in you when he positioned himself but he seemed to change his mind at the last second, a devilish smile widening on his lips when he patted the side of your hip twice. You knew what that meant and you bit your lip in uncertainty. The dreaded position you loved and hated at the same time.
âTurn around and donât make me ask twice.â Lando said after reading the look on your face and you made a noise that sounded a lot like dislike.
But you definitely didnât want to stall it any longer, so you turned your body around and pressed your cheek against the mattress with your eyes closed. This position hit absolutely every nerve inside of you, but it also left you completely exposed and thatâs mainly why you hated it.
Lando grabbed your hips and lifted you upwards so your knees were beneath you, exhaling as he slid his hands from your ass and down your back. The feel of his palm against the skin of your back made you arch despite your initial hesitation and something about that made the man behind you feel all the more needier.
âSo fucking gorgeous,â You heard him whisper and you believed it. âCanât wait to sink into this pretty little cunt.â
Unexpected heat shot down your back and you moaned, pressing back against Lando in hopes that heâd finally get the hint and fuck you. Your hands gripped the sheets on either side of your bed in anticipation at the thought.
âFuck me, please.â It came out as a whispered plea.
âI will, donât worry, love.â
And with that promise, he nudged himself inside. You arched in response, eyes shutting as he started pushing inside little by little. The stretch was incredible, making your toes curl and mouth open in a silent moan. Lando let out a sound of his own as he bottomed out, one hand grabbing your hips while the other settled over the small of your back to push down gently. You arched, and he seemed to like that because he immediately drew back before thrusting back in.
He found a rhythm you assumed he liked and you matched it by pushing back when he pushed in. A wave of heat overtakes you and your eyes roll in your sockets the harder he thrusts; Like a man on a mission, eager to bury himself inside you as far as he can go.
It hadnât occured to you just how badly youâd been neglecting Lando lately, but it was evident in how his hands grabbed anywhere he could find purchase, your name leaving his mouth in a chant as he fucked you harder. You needed this as much as he did.
âFuck, oh my God.â You tried to pull your hand back to touch yourself but you were jostled too harshly and you ended up being thrown off balance.
A high pitched whine left your mouth as Lando slipped out and just as you were about to turn your head to look at him, heâd grasped your hips and turned you around on your back. He reached for the pillow next to your head, stuffing it under your hips and kissing just beneath your navel in the process as a silent praise for raising your hips without him having to ask.
You watched with bated breath as he pressed kisses down your stomach, over your mound before latching his mouth onto your clit. The unexpected touch of his sinful mouth had you throwing your head back, squeezing your eyes shut.
âOh my God, Lando...â You moaned, attempting to tilt your head down so you could watch him but he was quick to flick his tongue against your clit and it only made you arch into his mouth.
Lando was holding the base of his cock, squeezing and willing himself not to blow too soon. Heâd been waiting to get inside you long enough and he wasnât about to end it before heâd had his fill of you. When he deemed it safe enough, he pulled away and positioned himself between your legs before sliding in. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip at your reaction, loving the flutter of your eyelids and the pretty way your mouth opened in a pathetic moan.
He couldnât help but lower himself down onto you, mindful as to not suffocate you but just enough for you to feel the press of his chest against yours as he started fucking into your wet heat.
You took it like a champion, arms circling his upper body and legs falling open as he fucked you into the mattress with reckless abandon. The stress youâd been feeling the past week was slowly seeping out of you, and you welcomed the feeling of it as you brought Lando to your mouth, kissing him until you lost your breath.
âYouâre so pretty,â Lando murmured against your lips breathlessly. âMy pretty baby.â
He slid one hand between the two of you, long fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in a way that had you crying out against his mouth. Lando refused to blink, didnât want to miss the look on your face as he brought you closer to euphoria.
âYou know what this is, baby?â He asked, hand cupping your pussy and trying not to falter when he felt where the two of you were connected.
Fuck, you were soaking and Lando was really about to blow.
âThis is mine.â He hissed, watching the way your eyes rolled before shutting. âOnly I get to fuck it, you hear me?â
You opened your mouth to respond that yes, of course it fucking is - but the loud cry that left you instead surprised the both of you as your body tensed up, pussy clenching around his cock as you sobbed through your orgasm. Liquid heat trickled down your back and you momentarily blacked out at the sheer force of you tensing up in your climax.
âOh fuck.â Lando hissed, dropping his head against the crook of your neck and fucking into your clenching pussy.
If your sounds and the look on your face wasnât enough to bring him to his end, then the feel of your legs circling around him and locking him into place was enough to do his head in. You moaned weakly as he tensed up in your arms, shooting into the condom and grinding into your sensitive cunt, like he wanted to bury himself as deep as possible.
He probably didnât realise that in his high, heâd dropped his entire weight on you but you absolutely didnât mind it; Finding comfort in his heaving body and the feel of his damp hair as you buried your fingers into it.
âGod, youâre gonna fucking kill me.â He garbled against your skin as he pulled himself out of you, lifting his head weakly to take a look at you.
You couldnât help but grin at his flushed face and blown wide pupils, feeling thrilled that this gorgeous man loved you. And you loved him, so much.
âI could really go for a sandwich from the deli down the street right now.â You whispered dreamily, closing your eyes shut as he brought a shaking hand up to swipe a few damp strands from your forehead.
Lando pulled a face.
âIf you think weâre not gonna order in, youâre sorely mistaken.â
He shook his head at the thought of leaving the bed - leaving you naked in his bed - to buy sandwiches. No matter how absolutely amazing they were. You blinked up at him with big eyes, pouting your lip and Lando knew right then that heâd lost any willpower heâd had left.
âOh, youâre good.â He narrowed his eyes, sneaking his hands down to tickle your sides.
You squealed, squirming underneath him and yelling at him to stop, your body too weak to fight back. Lando kept going for a few seconds before he let you push him to the side so you were half laying on top of him instead.
âYouâre evil.â You glared at him, but he could see the twitch of your raw lips and the love in your eyes so he didnât take it too hard.
Lando gripped your chin gently and brought you in a for a kiss before pulling back to look at you. You blinked back and he smiled.
âAlright Iâll go down to the shop in one condition.â He said, trying to sound serious despite the massive grin on his face. âYou hop in the shower, and then I want all these books gone from this room by the time I get back. Weâre taking the rest of the night off.â
You suppressed a smile at the âweâ, nodding your head reluctantly instead because for once you werenât overwhelmed with stress and you werenât about to bring it all back when Lando had worked so hard to relieve you of it. Hopefully heâd relieve you of it a couple more times later tonight.
âItâs a deal.â You agreed verbally, bringing your pinky to hook into his own.
âAlright, letâs get to it.â He brought an arm around and slapped your ass.
You jumped with a gasp, glaring at your boyfriend who cackled and jumped out of bed before you could kick him in retaliation. He looked amused as he walked around the bed to find tissues and get rid of the condom, cleaning himself up the best he could. He found the clothes heâd thrown on the floor, pulling them on all the while watching you stretch on the bed like a cat. It was so tempting to crawl back into bed and have his way with you but he gritted his teeth and turned to locate his wallet and phone.
âText me your order, Iâll see you in a bit.â He said and leaned down to press two kisses to your lips, making a noise in his throat when you wound your hands in his hair and pulled him closer for a few more kisses. âI love you.â
You grinned against his mouth, teeth knocking together but you were too happy to care as he nipped your lower lip and pulled himself up to stand straight.
âLove you too. Be safe.â
You watched him walk out, smiling to yourself at how incredibly lucky you were.
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#f1 fic#f1 smut#lando norris smut#lando norris fanfic
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Can I ask for the Space boys swap bodies with MC? đ
Swapping Bodies With Them- The Love And DeepSpace Men
parings in order: Xavier x fem! Reader, Zayne x fem! Reader, Rafayel x fem! Reader, Sylus x fem! Reader genre/tags: suggestive content below, silly, fem! masturbation a/n: hihi anonnies! âž(ïœĄË á” Ë )âžâĄ i lovee the idea of swapping bodies it's such a silly idea like if i swap bodies with any them i would've started swinging it around til i started flying anyways i hope this was alright ! enjoy reading ! (à·Ëá”Ëà·)âĄ
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Xavier:
He would have to teach you how to use his evol correctly since you almost flash banged the both of you.
Your poor pussy. Heâd have your pussy throbbing from constantly touching himself in your body. Heâd get dizzy from the amount of rounds heâs done. The amount of orgasms heâs reached was like a euphoric electric shock throughout your body and it was so addicting.
Xavier would definitely randomly hold your boobs just because he likes the feeling of them. He hates wearing bras and wants your girls to be free.
Once you swap bodies back, youâre going to have to deal with stomach pains and unexpected trips to the bathroom. During his time in your body, Xavier made and ate some of his questionable food combinations and your system wasnât used to that.
Zayne:
Heâs relieved that the person heâs switched bodies is someone that he can trust and someone that he loves. Almost ends up calling the hospital on your phone to call out of work for a couple days. He doesnât want you to stress out with the workload he deals with while youâre in his body.
Zayne is most definitely taking advantage of this to take care of your health. Heâs making sure youâre getting all the nutritious meals that you have been ignoring from him and that youâre getting the right amount of sleep and the right amount of exercise.
Y'know how we casually just grab out boobs randomly? Zayne would definitely do that with yours when you swap bodies and he loves it. He would casually knead one of your breasts or just casually hold it while he reads his patient report. Also gently squeeze it as if itâs a stress ball.
Rafayel:
He took so many cute photos of him in your body. He even went through your shared closet and tried on so many of your outfits and did a little spin in the mirror. Creates cute outfits for you and adds items to his shopping cart for you to wear when you switch bodies again. He even tries all your makeup and just casually did your eyeshadow and your eyeliner wings so perfectly.
Heâs obviously going to get curious and play with your pussy. âcutie why does it take soooo long to finish. no wonder you need me. it only takes a minute when iâm in you.â
He would be so flattered when he sees himself in your body and your body is just immediately soaked. He didnât know it would just be that easy.
He would get SO flustered when you pin him down or tease him in his body. He wasnât used to being in your height and the size difference but heâs not complaining.
Sylus:
Big. Every inch of him is just big. So waking up in the morning with you in his body can be a little overwhelming especially knowing you got a third arm that drags to the floor in between your legs.
He doesnât remember ever being this short in a long time so seeing you in his body, he can understand why he can be overwhelming.
He would get curious. His hands would roll upwards up to your breasts, rolling your nipples and kneading them. Then he would lower your hands to your ass, gently pinching them and he would notice the pool in your panties. âAh, I see why you react that way when I do this to you sweetie.â
If you two were away when you two swapped bodies, heâd take your body out to a nice spa to have your body relaxed and taken care of. He'll also get your nails or hair taken care of while he's out.
#xavier x reader#xavier x you#xavier x y/n#zayne x reader#zayne x you#zayne x y/n#rafayel x reader#rafayel x you#rafayel x y/n#sylus x reader#sylus x you#sylus x y/n#xavier love and deepspace#zayne love and deepspace#rafayel love and deepspace#sylus love and deepspace#xavier lads#zayne lads#rafayel lads#sylus lads#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace fic#love and deep space#lads x you#lads x reader
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match my freak | yuki tsunoda social media au
pairing: yuki tsunoda x fem rugby player reader
there's only one person who can match the yuki tsunoda radio freak...
MAIN MASTERLIST | TIP JAR
.ă»ăăă» part of the aston martini summer olympics ă»ăăă»ïŒ
yukitsunoda0511
liked by pierregasly, danielricciardo and 384,098 others
tagged: yourusername
yukitsunoda0511: spa was fine i guess, time to spend my summer break in france (ew) supporting the love of my life (yay)
view all comments
user1: 'fine i guess' as if we didn't get YOINTS
user2: tbf if my gf looked like that, points also wouldn't matter to me
pierregasly: FRANCE (EW)??? DID OUR HOMOEROTIC TENSION MEAN NOTHING???
yukitsunoda0511: oh so when i diss france we had homoerotic tension but when i said we were boyfriends i went too far đ€š
pierregasly: diss me all you want but not the homeland?
yukitsunoda0511: fine, i will from 5pm tomorrow
pierregasly: ???
yukitsunoda0511: because y/n will be there and therefore it will be the ONLY country in existence
pierregasly: i give up
user3: i need a man this down bad for me asap
user4: maybe it's time to lower my height requirements :(
yourusername: it's not how tall you are but how you are tall
user5: idk what the fuck that means
yourusername: IT MEANS SHORT KINGS PUT IN A LOT OF EFFORT WHY DO I HAVE TO SPELL OUT EVERYTHING? WHERE IS THE MEDIA LITERACY? THE READ COMPREHENSION?
user6: okay i think i now know ^^ why y/n and yuki are so good together
user7: i need someone to edit together their most iconic on field and radio moments together please for my mental health
yourusername: that's a crazy coincidence because the love of MY life will also be in paris đ€š
yukitsunoda0511: well i bet i love my love of my life more than you love your love of your life
yourusername: NUH UH
yukitsunoda0511: yep :PPPPPPP
yourusername: u wanna fight?
yukitsunoda0511: yes actually!
yourusername: well soz babe i can't get all hot and bothered before competing đ€·ââïž
yukitsunoda0511: BORING
yourusername
liked by danielricciardo, pierregasly and 318,905 others
tagged: yukitsunoda
yourusername: seeing yuki again: 10/10 ... realising he's not allowed in the olympic village and there's only cardboard beds anyway -100,000/10
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user12: so i suddenly understand why they give out so many condoms at the olympics
user13: why do they all go so feral?
yourusername: have you seen my man?
yourusername: AND THAT'S A RHETORICAL QUESTION TO SHOW OFF MY HANDSOME LITTLE MAN NOT AN INVITATION FOR YOU BITCHES TO THIRST
user14: noted đ
pierregasly: i'm the one with a bad digital footprint but you're out here being just as horny as me on main
yourusername: i am allowed to ?
pierregasly: and i'm not allowed to?
yourusername: no
pierregasly: so fuck me i guess?
yourusername: let me be a woman in a male dominated field (being gross online)
yukitsunoda0511: yeah pierre stop trying to minimise womens' voices
pierregasly: how am i the bad guy again?
yourusername: man â€ïž
pierregasly: yuki is a man?
yourusername: he's MY man which means he's been closely vetted and is basically one of the girls now
user14: i know visa cashapp rb or whatever the fuck they're called hate to see them coming
user15: it's the fact she's taller than most of the mechanics and she is always watching over them
yukitsunoda0511: i missed you so much but i can't wait to watch you beat the shit out of the competition
yourusername: for you, anything
yukitsunoda0511: a gold? so at least one of us can be world champion đ„ș
yourusername: i'll win gold for you and then schedule in a friendly visit to see helmut
yukitsunoda0511: i think your mere presence could give him a heart attack
yourusername: oh well
user16: so real of her
olympics
liked by yukitsunoda0511, landonorris and 1,209,678 others
tagged: newzealandrubgy
olympics: the women's rugby final saw gold go home to new zealand!
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user17: okay yuki i am SEEING THE VISION
user18: i watched this game to see her and i am a changed woman
user19: i am no better than a man
danielricciardo: my personal favourite moment was when y/n clotheslined that poor girl, laughed in her face and said if she tried to get past her again she'd make trinket dishes out of her knee caps
yourusername: why thank you, i think my wit is my least appreciated part of my game
danielricciardo: i think we should honestly get you in the commentary box
yourusername: i'd make mince meat of crofty, he'd never say anything about yuki's radios again
danielricciardo: can you tell them to stop telling me to retire while you're at it?
yourusername: sure, i'm feeling generous
danielricciardo: a gold medal will do that to you
user20: so they weren't joking when they said that her and yuki are just the same person in different fonts ?
user21: my commentary team apologised about 20 times for her swearing on the broadcast but then they kept bursting out laughing whenever she said anything
yukitsunoda0511: HOLY FUCKING SHIT
yukitsunoda0511: GOAT GOAT GOAT MY GIRLFRIEND IS THE GOAT
yukitsunoda0511: i'm so proud, i love you y/n đ«¶đ»đ„čâ€ïžâđ©č
yourusername: i love you too boo
yukitsunoda0511: can they let me in the room now? i'm getting withdrawal symptoms :(
yourusername: of course, i can't celebrate properly without you
yukitsunoda0511: đđđđđđđđđđđđđđđđđđ
user22: picturing yuki waiting outside the team room is so cute
user23: the nz team instagram posted a pic of it on their story he had flowers and balloons (â©ËoËâ©)âĄ
yukitsunoda0511
liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 893,401 others
tagged: yourusername
yukitsunoda0511: she matches my freak :)
view all comments
user25: oh believe me we know
user26: i'm like a confusing mix of scared AND turned on
yukitsunoda0511: you keep that to yourself
user27: okay sir đ€š
yukitsunoda0511: you can look but you can't touch :P
yukitsunoda0511: actually don't even look
yukitsunoda0511: don't even think about her ( ïœĄ âąÌ ᎠâąÌ ïœĄ)
user28: this man is insane, i love him
yourusername: you LIKE HIM YOU APPRECIATE HIM FROM AFAR YOU MAYBE HAVE A PARASOCIAL RELATIONSHIP YOU DON'T LOVE HIM THAT'S FOR ME AND ME ONLY
user29: oh they weren't joking about matching each other's freaks
yourusername: there's no one else i'd like to be a lil gremlin with :3
yukitsunoda0511: gremlins forever with you <3
yourusername: sounds like paradise to me !!
yukitsunoda0511: i'm on it âđ»
user30: is he going to propose ???
user31: hopefully (ă
âąá· ââąá·
)
pierregasly: yeah i guess you guys are kinda cute
yukitsunoda0511: kINDA?
yourusername: i know this man ain't speaking on us
yourusername: kika is the face economy in that relationship
yourusername: her back must hurt from carrying the style in this couple
francisca.cgomez: well ïżœïżœ
pierregasly: WHAT ? HOW ?
yukitsunoda0511: don't call my girlfriend kinda cute then đ€š
user32: good lord
fin.
note: she's back !!!!!
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1#f1 social media au#yuki tsunoda instagram au#yuki tsunoda x you#yuki tsunoda x reader#yuki tsunoda imagine#yuki tsunoda
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đđđđ đđ đ đđđ đđđ - đ.đđ
pairings. á°.á jake x fem!reader
synopsis. á°.á jake gives you a facialâŠ.hehehe
warnings. á°.á SMUT. mdni, facials, oral male receiving, pure filth. Short drabble. I canât lie; i think about this dailyâŠ
âThatâs it sweetheart..â Jake sighed, trying his hardest to keep quiet in the small room you were currently in. His finger ghosted the apples of your cheeks leaving light touches as he trailed his hand down to cup your chin in his palm. He lifted your head up, cock stuffed deep into your mouth savoring every bit of him. âCan you take more baby?â He asked smiling as your eyes watered struggling to keep down the amount of him you were already enduring.
You inched your mouth forward taking more of him inch by inch suppressing the urge to gag around him. âThatâs it babyâ He moaned out, head tipping back, his hair clung to his forehead with sweat from the heat of the room and the moment you two were sharing. âGood fucking girlâ
You sucked on him as if he were your last meal. Making sure to hollow your cheeks just enough to make his eyes roll and his gaze darken on you. It was erotic youâd say, being cramped in the small room of the spa you two were in. The thrill of the possibility of being caught coursed through your veins egging your actions on. It was exciting, exhilarating even. It was truthfully the most fun the two of you had in a while.
Jake had surprised you with a spa day after all the activities of life as of recently. Him just coming back from a mind numbing tour and you working endlessly to pass the days missing him. It felt good to spend the day together getting pampered and when the masseuse stepped out for a break the two of you took the liberations of having some fun.
The candles that surrounded the two of you as well as the scents from the essential oils and the soft music in the background had aided in your erotic actions only furthering the arousal between you both. You were excited to fall to your knees in front of him, you were acting like a bitch in heat and he loved it.
Jakeâs hips snapped forward causing his tip to tap against your throat, the gag you were trying so hard to suppress broke free. Spit seeped from the sides of your mouth, it was nasty. Jakeâs eyes were alight as he watched you suck him dry the sight of your head bobbing back and forth on his cock had his knees weak. He placed his hand on the bed beside him for further support.
âGod youâre such a whoreâ Jake cursed running his hands tenderly through your hair. Gathering it up in a ponytail between his palm. He tugged harshly on your head detaching your mouth from his cock for a split second. A gasp rang free from your lips the spit strung from your mouth. âSo nasty babyâ He hissed.
You moved your mouth forward desperate to feel him in your throat again. You cupped his base yanking your hand up and down as you attached your lips to his tip. Your eyes were doe like as you starred up at him. His torso falling in and out as his breathing turned sharp.
âThatâs hotâ He rasped âSo fucking hotâ His whines were an indication that he was close to his finish. Spurring you on as you watched him bite his lip in an attempt to quiet down.
âYou want it baby?â He asked you breathing quick. You nodded humming, quirking your pace on him.
âGood.â He moaned snapping his hips forward roughly. He grabbed onto your head using your mouth as his own personal flashlight. âIâm gonna give it to youâ
You gagged as he continued his assault on your mouth, you were impossibly wet yourself and truthfully you couldnât wait until you were home so he could make you cum properly.
âOh f-fuckâ He spurred on âtaking it so goodâ He yanked his cock from your mouth using his hand as his stimulant.
âYour tongue baby. Let me see your tongueâ You stuck your tongue out awaiting his cum like the good little whore you were. Your eyes peered at him, connecting with his darkened ones.
âIâm-â His sentence was cut off by a moan, ropes of cumming falling from his tip and onto your tongue and face even getting into your eye. âFucking-shitâ His hand reached for the bed as his knees buckled over you.
Catching his breath he looked down at you face covered in cum.
âJakeeeâ You whined reaching for the towels near you. âItâs in my eye!â
âWell you did say you wanted a facial babyâ
â
taglist - @belovedhoon , @st1llm0nster , @blossommi
#enhypen imagines#enhypen x reader#enhypen smut#enhypen#sim jake smut#jake sim texts#enhypen smau#fluff#jake sim smau#jake enhypen#jake smut#enhypen jake#jake x reader#jake sim#jake enha#sim jaeyun#sim jake#sim jaehyun x reader#enhypen scenarios#enhypen ot7#enha jake#enha smut#enha heeseung#enha smau#enha sunoo#enha x reader#enha scenarios#enha imagines#jay enhypen imagines#enhypen smuts
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⯠THE TASTE OF HEAVEN . . . sugar daddy ! batboys x fem ! reader
BRUCE WAYNE
bruce wayne doesnât need to flaunt his wealth because he is the wealth. he doesnât call himself your sugar daddyâitâs just implied in every action, every gift, and every moment he spends with you. whether itâs a sleek black card handed to you with no spending limit or a private plane waiting to take you to an exotic destination, bruce makes luxury feel effortless
you can forget off-the-rack anything. bruce ensures you have custom clothing, jewelry, and even furniture. heâll casually remark, âi had the designer make a few changes for you,â as though commissioning bespoke items for you is just another tuesday
his gifts are never tacky or gaudyâthis man has impeccable taste, and everything he gives you reflects that. think diamond necklaces that catch the light just right, limited-edition handbags, or handwritten invitations to exclusive events where youâre his arm candy
youâre the arm candy !!! bruceâs automatic date to every high-profile gala, charity ball, and exclusive event. he wouldnât even think of bringing anyone else. he makes it clear youâre not just an accessory, youâre the highlight of his night
you have a tab at nearly every high-end establishment in gotham. whether youâre shopping for couture or just stopping by your favorite cafĂ©, bruce ensures youâre treated like royalty. everyone knows exactly whoâs footing the bill
bruce isnât the type to throw money at you just becauseâhe always wants to make sure itâs something meaningful or useful to you. if you mention wanting to start a business or learn a new skill, heâll quietly arrange everything you need, from connections to resources
while his gifts are extravagant, his affection shows in quieter ways too. when youâre stressed, he whisks you away for a weekend spa retreat. if youâre cold, heâll drape his expensive coat over your shoulders without hesitation. every gesture, big or small, is about making your life as comfortable as possible
people know bruce is your sugar daddy, but theyâre far too intimidated to say anything. the whispered assumptions only make him smirk. he doesnât care what anyone thinksâif anything, he enjoys the power it gives him to make it abundantly clear that youâre his
despite the sugar daddy thing between you, bruceâs affection runs far deeper. he doesnât just give you giftsâhe gives you his time, his attention, and his unwavering loyalty. the material luxuries are just an extension of the way he sees you: as someone deserving of nothing but the best
heâll sometimes joke about the arrangement with a mischievous smile. âyouâre lucky iâm rich,â heâll say, handing you keys to a new car or sliding over a box containing some ridiculously rare jewelry. but his tone is warm, his teasing more affectionate than condescending
DICK GRAYSON
unlike bruce, dick doesnât shy away from the term âsugar daddy.â in fact, he might jokingly call himself that from time to time, especially when handing you an absurdly expensive gift
( dick âwhatâs the point of having all this money if i canât spoil my girl?â grayson )
while he spoils you endlessly, he does it in a way that feels personal and heartfelt. every gift, trip, or gesture reflects how well he knows you. if you casually mention a dream vacation destination or a favorite designer, you can bet itâll show up in your life sooner rather than later
he is the kind of sugar daddy who makes spoiling you fun. heâll turn shopping trips into mini-games, daring you to try on the most extravagant pieces in the store just so he can gush over how amazing you look. âif you donât let me buy that dress, iâll be personally offended,â heâd tease, but you know heâs serious
dick loves being seen with you. whether itâs walking hand in hand down the streets of blĂŒdhaven or pulling up to a gala with you in tow, he thrives on showing the world just how proud he is to have you by his side. and yes, he does things like carrying your shopping bags with zero shame, flashing that charming grin at anyone who stares
doesnât wait for a special occasion to surprise you. whether itâs a bouquet of your favorite flowers, a new gadget youâve been eyeing, or tickets to a concert you love, heâs constantly finding ways to brighten your day
with dick, every vacation feels like a scene from a romance movie. he books private villas, sunset yacht rides, and five-star experiences, all while making it feel like the most casual, natural thing in the world. âi just thought we could use a break,â heâd say, as if flying you out to the maldives was as simple as grabbing coffee
heâs always finding ways to make you laugh, even about the relationship itself. if someone gives you a side-eye for carrying a designer purse, heâll lean over and whisper, âtheyâre just jealous, babe. can you blame them?â his lighthearted attitude makes the relationship feel easy and natural
with his good looks and high-profile status, the press is obsessed with you two. headlines like âblĂŒdhavenâs golden boy and his stunning girlfriendâ are a constant, but dick takes it in stride, often laughing at the exaggerations
âyou deserve the world,â heâd say, his blue eyes sparkling. âlet me give it to you.â
JASON TODD
jason didnât immediately step into the role of âsugar daddy.â in fact, he hesitated because he didnât want his wealth to define your relationship. but as time passed and he saw how much joy he could bring you by easing your stress, he leaned into itâbut only his way
for jason, being your sugar daddy isnât about flashy displays or media attentionâitâs about making sure youâre secure and comfortable in a way no one else could provide. he loves knowing you donât have to worry about rent, bills, or any other mundane stressors. âif i can fix it, iâm going to,â he says simply, brushing off your thanks like itâs no big deal
he might not shower you with gifts constantly, but when he does, itâs jaw-dropping: a rare first-edition book he remembered you mentioned once, a custom leather jacket, or even a dream vacation to a quiet, secluded spot where you can both relax away from the chaos of gotham
jason is practical when it comes to what he provides. heâll upgrade your phone, stock your fridge with your favorite snacks, and even surprise you with a car when he notices yours struggling. âiâm not about to let you drive around in that death trap,â he grumbles as he tosses you the keys
and while heâs not the type to parade you through expensive stores, jason shows his affection in quieter, more personal ways. he might take you on a motorcycle ride to a hidden gotham rooftop, where he surprises you with your favorite takeout and a designer bag âhe happened to pick upâ
despite his tough exterior, he has a serious soft spot for you. if you so much as hint at wanting something, heâs already making plans to get it. heâll pretend itâs no big deal, but his little smirk always gives him away
jason sometimes pretends to be annoyed by how much he spoils you, but itâs all in good fun. âyouâre turning me into one of those rich guys,â heâll grumble, handing you a sleek gift box. but the way his lips twitch into a smile when you beam at him says otherwise
youâll come home to find an envelope with tickets to your favorite bandâs concert or a designer coat hanging in your closet because he noticed the weather getting colder. âwhat? you think i didnât notice you shivering last week?â
he doesnât like the idea of anyone else stepping in to provide for you. if someone so much as jokes about taking you out or buying you a drink, heâs quick to step in, slinging an arm around your shoulders and shooting them a glare. âsheâs taken. move along.â
he makes sure you feel safe, cared for, and endlessly spoiled in his own rough-edged, loving way <3
ADDITIONAL NOTE! if you like my work , please consider reblogging and / or commenting . thank you if you do đ€
#sugar daddy ! dick could get it anytime#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne x fem!reader#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne fic#batman x you#batman x reader#batman x fem!reader#jason todd x reader#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x you#red hood x you#red hood x reader#red hood x fem!reader#dick grayson x you#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson x female!reader#nightwing x you#nightwing x reader#jason todd fic#dick grayson fic#x reader#reader insert#dcu#dcu x reader#dc universe#dc x reader
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Couple Massage in Mumbai: Relax & Unwind with Your Partner
Treat yourself and your partner to a luxurious couple massage in Mumbai. Our expertly trained therapists provide an array of massages, including aromatherapy, deep tissue, and hot stone, to help you both unwind and rejuvenate. Whether celebrating an anniversary, honeymoon, or simply enjoying a peaceful day together, our couple massages offer the perfect way to bond. Located in the best spots in Mumbai, enjoy a serene atmosphere designed for ultimate relaxation. Book your couple spa treatment today and create unforgettable moments of relaxation and rejuvenation.
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rb admin | max verstappen social media au
pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader
everyone wants to know who's the rb admin
masterlist
maxverstappen1
liked by redbullracing, danielricciardo and 765,939 others
caption: good weekend after a long time
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redbullracing: congratulations maxie!
user83: rb admin is really in love with max
user32: who's the rb admin??
danielricciardo: not me
landonorris: I'm gonna get u mate. spa is waiting for me
maxverstappen1: of course
redbullracing: NO U ARE NOT GONNA GET HIM.. HE'S MADMAX
user84: redbull admin chillđ
landonorris: rb admin scares me
y/n.user: dududu
danielricciardo: max verstappen
user27: wtf is y/n
user81: maybe rb admin??
user09: nooo way
y/n.user
liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 12,849 others
caption: who's gonna be my max verstappen to my dudududu
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bff2: I can be
maxverstappen1: sorry she's taken
user84: MAX VERSTAPPEN?!
user9: uhm this is very weird
user5: does anyone know what is going on
danielricciardo: you already have ur max verstappen
y/n.user: i knooow. But I want one in the female version so we can root for the real max verstappen on race weekend
victoriaverstappen: đ
y/n.user: vic
landonorris: am I slow? I have no clue who tf is this girl
user3: she's probably dating max
user2: maybe rb admin?
redbullracing
liked by maxverstappen1, y/n.user and 765,931 others
caption: our world champion enjoying his victory
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user73: wait, I saw that girl on the tv and I have no clue who she is
user71: I think her name is y/n and she's supposed to be rb admin
y/n.user: hey, its me
y/n.user: max deserved this victory
user36: girl answer!! Are u rb admin??
user9: she's chosing silence
danielricciardo: congrats to max
user2: we need to see rb admin
redbullracing: u might see him/her soonđ
user6: the emojiđđđ
maxverstappen1
liked by redbullracing, y/n.user and 1,378,838 others
caption: so this is the rb admin. Hope yall like her. She's cool I guess
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redbullracing: she's really cool xx
maxverstappen1: ofc xx
user737: OMG
user3: she's so beautiful
user83: max how did u get her lol
landonorris: maximilian dating his co-worker... nothing new
user637: jealous lando
y/n.user: lando stop crying
user6: she's eating up the whole paddock
user73: I love her
user2: I knew rb admin is gonna be hot and cool
y/n.user: thanks babe xx
y/n.user
liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 303,737 others
caption: soo I guess that everyone knows that I'm rb admin. Hey
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maxverstappen1: my babyyy
y/n.user: love youuu
user83: omg I'm melting
landonorris: ew I'm not
danielricciardo: lando we need to find u a gf
user737: THE MAX BLANKET
user2: I know that everyone loves the max blanket but can we talk about how we saw the rb admin everywhere but no one noticed?!
y/n.user: I'm like a ninja or assassin
danielricciardo: yeah you are
user63: danny being friends with max's girlfriend makes si much sense
y/n.user: he's only trying to get the rb place
user62: I'm not going to shut about them like ever. They're so cute
user73: cutest couple award
#max verstappen#f1#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#formula one#formula one smau#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#mv1#mv33#mv33 x reader#mv1 x reader#formula one x you#formula one x reader#red bull racing#red bull f1#red bull team#red bull formula 1#mv1 x you#formula 1 smau#fluff#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen fluff#alternate universe#lando norris#daniel ricciardo#charles leclerc#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x reader
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wrapped around your finger | s.r.
in which you come home to find spencer in peak girl dad form
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: mom!reader, girldad!spencer, nail polish, this is technically the family from cryptic, but you don't need to read cryptic to know what's going on word count: 578 a/n: this is for the anon who asked for dad!spencer! i always have some dad!spencer on retainer for when the people are in need! it's nothing crazy, but i was cleaning up my desk and found a sticky note that said spencer would definitely let his daughter paint his nails.
A little voice carries itself from down the hallway, and you follow the sound of it. The carefully chosen words of your four-year-old daughter make you wonder who she could possibly be speaking to. Slowly, you walk down the hallway, trying not to alert anyone to your presence.
On your way, you peek into the nursery, your younger daughter sleeping soundly in her crib as you pass her, finally ending up at the doorway of Eleanorâs room, âDo you like the color?â She asks gently, holding her fatherâs hand in hers and inspecting his fingers.
âI love the color, thank you,â Spencer says politely, âYou know, purple is my favorite color.â
The smile that blooms on her face is so bright, it makes you wish youâd never left the house in the first place. âMommy told me!â
Nothing in all of the parenting books youâve read prepared you for your firstborn to stop calling you mama. The switch had caught you off-guard, and you found yourself mourning the little girl she had been while simultaneously prideful of the personality that she was developing.
Youâd have to keep better track of it with Olivia, though you and Spencer hadnât come to a consensus on whether or not you were done after two kids. The sight in front of you might just be enough to convince you to go for a third.
Her princess tiara slides forward on her head as she focuses on painting Spencerâs nails, your husband sitting in a chair thatâs comically small for him as her small hands deftly apply the lacquer.
Catching sight of you in his periphery, Spencer gives a soft smile in greeting, not wanting to alarm Eleanor of your appearance. âYouâre really good at painting nails,â he observes, reaching his free hand up to adjust her crown.
âI wanna do it forever and ever,â she responds giddily, putting the brush back into the bottle. You notice the way Spencer reached over to seal the nail polish bottle, preventing a tragedy before it strikes.
Spencer hums in response, âIf thatâs what you want, lovebug.â
She smiles, spinning around in her PJs until she sees you, âMommy!â She squeaks excitedly, running over to you and giggling when you pick her up.
âHello, Princess Nellie,â you greet her, hugging her tightly before setting her back down. Listening to see if the ruckus woke up the baby, you walk further into the bedroom when you hear no stirring from the room next door.
She smiles, pointing at Spencer with a proud look on her face, âI painted daddyâs nails.â
âI see that,â you took in the sight before you, Spencerâs nails had indeed been painted, along with all of the skin surrounding them. âThey look great honey,â you tell her, sitting down on the edge of her bed.
Nellie looks up at you expectantly, âDaddy said I canât paint Livvyâs nails.â
You smile slightly at the pout on her face, âThatâs right, sheâs too little to have her nails painted.â Though you have to admit, youâve been imagining mini spa nights with your daughters from the moment you found out you were having another girl.
Her eyes go wide as saucers, âOh! Then itâs a good thing I have daddy.â She beams over at her father, and he looks at her with an equal amount of adoration in his eyes.
Grinning over at Spencer, you nod in agreement with her, âYeah, it is a good thing.â
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fic#spencer reid x fem!reader#written by margot#spencer reid dilf agenda
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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 đ
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
â or: art donaldson needs a massage therapistâŠ
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 iâve 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 "celebritiesâ. 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, itâs something you canât 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 appointmentsâŠper our policy." you reply meekly, almost surprised that you're denying her.
"Duncan, actually,â she corrects you nonchalantly, you donât have time to unpack that before sheâs speaking again. âWe 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 couldnât 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. âWe were worried youâd get lost.â
The house is, of course, beautiful on the inside. Tall ceilings, big fireplace, a beautiful staircase leading to the second floor. Thereâs toys strewn messily along the living room floor, the TV mounted on the wall is paused on ESPN.
You hope you donât look as crazy as you feel taking in the space, taking in the fact that Tashi is standing right in front of you.Â
âNo, the directions were very helpful,â your voice only slightly wavers as you respond, you count that as a win, âitâs a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. DonaldsâuhâDuncan.â 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 sheâs 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.
âArt should already be in the massage room, itâs in the pool house,â 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, âI have to take a phone call here in a few minutes so I trust youâll find your way there.â
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. Thereâs still no question marks tacked on to the end of her sentences, just like over the phone.Â
âItâs just through that door, first room on the left. I told him to leave the door open for you.â 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. âHeâs been complaining about his shoulder acting up. The right one, itâs what needs the most attention. He serves with that arm, we need it at a hundred.â she fires off casually, like sheâs recited this information before.
You go to speak but her phone ringing cuts you off, echoing off the house's crisp white walls. âThank you for coming to see us, it was nice meeting you.â Tashi says politely, giving you one final once over before sheâs answering her phone and disappearing up the stairs.
âIt was nice meeting you tooâŠâ you trail off quietly, fully caught off guard by whatever the hell that was. Out of every single time youâd fantasized about what meeting Tashi Duncan would be like, none of them were quite like this. At least itâs 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.Â
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.
Youâre 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.Â
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 Duncanâs super hot husband, Art Donaldson. And heâs only wearing a fucking towel.
âHello,â he greets with a kind smile, though it doesnât quite reach his eyes, âitâs nice to finally meet you, thank you so much for taking the time to come out here.âÂ
Art is already worlds different from Tashi, or thatâs what youâre inferring after spending less than five minutes with each of them. Itâs 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 doesnât seem like some big shot tennis player with more impressive stats than you could wrap your head around. Youâve 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 heâs trying to make himself look smaller.Â
âHi, Mr. Donaldson,â youâre not sure if it's appropriate to offer a man wearing a towel dangerously low on his hips your hand, you decide against it. âItâs no trouble really, Iâm happy to help.â
âPlease, call me Art.â The tone of his voice makes you want to shiver, smooth and warm like honey.Â
You try your best not to stare, but itâs so hard to ignore the toned expanse of Artâs body when itâs right there. Heâs all broad shoulders, firm pecs, sculpted legs, with a cut Adonis belt. Heâs 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. Youâre mortified to see heâs 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 donât notice the way his eyes rake over you in the same way.
âOkay, Art,â you say a little breathlessly, tightening your grip on the strap of your bag. âItâs nice to meet you. Mrs. Duncan let me know about your major problem areas, Iâll be sure to focus on them.â 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 canât help but sneak glances at the rippling muscle of Artâs back as he shifts, his skin looks soft and is littered with freckles. You donât miss the hiss he lets out when he lays his weight on his shoulder.
You usually donât 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.
âHowâd you hurt it? Your shoulder. If you donât mind me asking.â you ask once heâs 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. âThat sounds about right. Most people donât realize how brutal tennis is to the body, injuries are common,â 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. âSounds like you might need to take it easy for a while.â you continue, trying to keep the conversation light.
Art chuckled, though it was devoid of real humor. "Yeah, Iâve 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.Â
You pause, your hands stilling momentarily as you catch the underlying tension in Art's voice. "The seasonâs 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 thatâs still keeping everything together."
Your heart clenches at the raw honesty in his words. Heâs completely silent afterwards, you wonder if heâs 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 Artâs shoulder, you canât 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.
âI can feel the tension here," you say gently, applying a little more pressure, "Just try to relax.âÂ
With each knead and press, you remind yourself of your role. Youâre here to help him heal, and that was all that mattered. But as your hands move over his warm skin, you canât shake the feeling that this wasnât 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. Itâs 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.Â
You smile, a genuine one, the first real smile youâve had since you got here. âThanks. Iâd hope so after all this time.â
Art lets out a small chuckle muffled by the table, it makes your stomach flutter. âHow did you get into this? Massage therapy seems interesting.â
You laugh but itâs a bitter sound, moving your hands down to focus lower on Artâs 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. âThatâs a long story.â you mutter under your breath, even to your own ears you sound resentful.
âIâve got time.â Itâs a simple reply, but itâs so honest. Like Artâs genuinely interested in you, in getting to know you. It makes you feel dizzy.
âI, um,â you worry your lip between your teeth, working your hands harder over Artâs back. âI actually used to play tennis. When I was in high school.â
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. âNo shit?â he looks more shocked than anything.Â
You nod, humming in confirmation as you finally move onto his other shoulder. âYup, I was pretty serious about it back then, until I got injured.â You donât meet Artâs 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 Artâs thinking about Tashiâs knee. You know he was at the match, youâve seen the blurry footage of Tashi Duncanâs fall from grace, watched Art vault over the net to get to her.
âThatâs awful. Iâm sorry.â He sounds like he means it.
âItâs okay, wasn't like it was my fault or anything,â you say, finally meeting his eyes with a rueful smile and raising your right wrist to show him your scar. âI got hit by a drunk driver coming home late from practice one night. Nasty fracture, bone went straight through.â You hope your voice is coming out as nonchalant as youâre 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 couldnât get a racket back in my hand,â you confess softly, fingers tracing the outline of the scar absentmindedly again. âBut it also forced me to reevaluate things, in a way. It made me realize that life doesn't always go according to plan.â You see Tashiâs knee buckling in your mind's eye. âWhen 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, thereâs 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."Â
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 canât 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 phoneâs alarm pierces through the moment, both you and Art jump at the sudden sound. Itâs like a cold bucket of water pouring over your head, washing away whatever just happened between the two of you. The sessionâs over, youâre done.Â
âOkay,â you say a little too loudly, taking your hands off Art's back like his skin could burn you any second. âLooks like weâre all done.â 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.
Artâs voice breaks the silence as you pack up, sounding a little less confident than it did earlier. âUh, my neck has been bothering me too, recently,â he says offhandedly as he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the table. âI think I may have slept on it wrong.â
You stop what youâre doing, turning to face Art again, silently cursing him for not just letting you leave. âDo you want me to take a look before I go?â You pray he says no. You should know it wonât be that easy, not with your shit luck.
âIf you donât mind?â His tone is so hopeful and his eyes are so big that your feet are walking towards him before your mind can catch up.Â
âNot at all,â 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 Artâs 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 itâs been enough time, eager to get out of this damn house before you do something youâll regret.
You didnât 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, Artâs body is one thing, itâs objectively perfect. Heâs a professional athlete, of course itâs perfect. It has to be perfect. Itâs his damn face that gets you.
Heâs 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 didnât notice before, swirling with emotions that stir something deep within you.Â
Something more shocking than Artâs 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. Heâs 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.
âArtâŠâ you whisper, heart threatening to beat out of your chest. Heâs 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 theyâre draped over Artâs neck.
It happens in slow motion, Artâs hand trails up the skin of your thigh as your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and itâs like youâve been electrocuted. Youâre rearing back with a sharp breath, dropping your hands from his neck and taking a couple steps back.Â
âIt was really nice to- uh to meet you, Art.â you say frantically, swinging your bag firmly over your shoulder and rushing to the door. Artâs still sitting on the table, silently watching you panic. He doesnât try to stop you. âI hope your shoulder feels better,â is all you say before bursting out the door and speed walking out of the pool house.Â
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.Â
The thought rattles around in your mind, refusing to be dismissed. His words, his toneâthey seemed to linger in the air, haunting you with their implications. The way he touched you, like he couldnât 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, Tashiâs the first thing you see. Sheâs sitting in the living room, laptop open on the coffee table in front of her.Â
âHey,â she says, sitting up straighter on the coach, âhow was it?â
You swallow, urging yourself to calm down. âIt was great, he should be seeing some improvement over the next few days.â
Tashi nods her head, seemingly pleased though it doesnât show on her face. âCould this be a weekly thing, these appointments. He could really use them.âÂ
No question marks. Motherfucker.
You flounder, stomach dropping. âWeekly? As in every Thursday?â
Tashiâs brow raises, eyes looking over you inquisitively. âYes, preferably all home visits.âShe stands from the couch, taking a couple steps towards you. âWe read on your website you take permanent clients, is that not the case anymore.â
You shake your head, eyes wide as they follow her while she walks. âN-no, Mrs. Duncan we do. We could pencil you in if youâre 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?â
Tashi stops a few feet away from you, hands in her pockets. âActually, we were hoping youâd be the one coming down. The only one.â 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 canât 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.
âWonderful,â 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. âThank you again for coming out, and please,â she pauses with her hand on the doorknob, turning to meet your eye, âcall me Tashi.â
"Thank you, Tashi," you murmur softly, the weight of her name feeling foreign on your tongue when youâre 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 LATERâŠ
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 youâve done nothing wrong, but you know deep in the back of your mind that what youâre doing isnât 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.Â
Neither of you talk about it, what happened during your session, and Art doesnât 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 doesnât 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 doesnât want to.Â
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, heâs healing.Â
The familiar sound of your timer ringing pulls you out of your thoughts. Youâre 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. Itâs silly to call it âsensing a bad vibeâ, but thatâs exactly what you felt entering the room's threshold.Â
Art didnât 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, Artâs 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 heâs mad at you. It sounds so stupid in your head, like youâre 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 itâs actually affecting you. Art has you over analyzing everything youâve 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 doesnât really want you.
âAlright,â you say softly, stepping away from the table, âAll done.â 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 doesnât owe you an explanation, he doesnât owe you anything. You arenât 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.
Artâs voice cuts through the silence, sounding weary. âAre we still pretending it didnât happen?â
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 youâre not sure youâre ready to give.
You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. âI...I donât know,â you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. âI guess I was hoping we could justâŠforget about it.â
Artâs eyes search yours, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. âI donât think I can,â 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. Artâs voice stops you just as you have your hand on the doorknob.
âPleaseâŠâ he whispers, he sounds so broken, so vulnerable. âPlease, donât run.â
You donât know what it is, maybe itâs the way heâs 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 wonât.
You walk until youâre crowding him, standing between his spread legs just like you did all those sessions ago. His eyes are wide, almost disbelieving, like he thought youâd 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.Â
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 youâre trying to absorb his words, his essence, his everything.Â
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.
Itâs easy to get lost in Artâs eyes, so youâre shocked to notice something that very quickly grabs your attention. Artâs 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 youâre doing. You donât care about any of that anyway, not right now.Â
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.Â
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 heâs perfect all over.Â
Artâs cock is long, and thick. Heâs big, but in an exciting way, not in an intimidating way. Heâs already steadily drooling pre-cum from his soft pink tip, already so hard and you havenât 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.
âShit,â he grits out, casting his gaze to the ceiling, chest already heaving raggedly.Â
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.Â
âFuck, your mouthâŠâ 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. Artâs 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. Artâs 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 thatâs not what makes you pause.
Itâs his eyes, the way Artâs looking at you.
The look in his eyes isâŠworshipful. Reverent. Like youâre a celestial being, a divine grace walking among mortals. Not some girl on her knees for a married man in his houseâs 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. Artâs eyes holding such a longing reverence so intense, it was starting to elevate you to a pedestal of adoration. Of devotion.
Right now Artâs like the sun, burning so brightly you feel you need to look away before he consumes you, but you donât.
âPlease,â Art begs desperately, voice so soft you barely even hear it. Thereâs 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 Artâs 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.
âYouâre so good, Art.âÂ
Itâs 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.Â
"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 youâre never coming back from this, but you still squeeze back as hard as you can all the same.
A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATERâŠ
Maybe this is just your life now, fucking the husband of the woman you worshiped like a God for years on end. Itâs like you canât stop, like youâre an addict or something. No matter how disgusting and shameful you feel every time you get home from Artâs appointments, you canât help but give into him. Itâs a twisted dance, a cycle of pleasure and regret that you canât seem to break. One look into his sad, kicked puppy eyes and you crack. Youâve convinced yourself it's just you reveling in the feeling of being truly wanted for the first time. But deep down, you know itâs more than that. Itâs the way he makes you feel alive, the way he looks at you like youâre the only thing that matters in his world.
Art wants you. He needs you. Heâs 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.Â
Youâve never kissed, not on the lips. Artâs 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 heâs 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 donât.
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, itâs like heâs giving more of himself to you each time you meet with him. Itâs exhilarating, the way your presence has this effect on him, almost as if youâre breathing new life into him.
Artâs 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 freelyâit all feels like a dream youâre afraid to wake up from.Â
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. Itâs a little less intense since Artâs 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 youâve 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. âEverything alright?â you ask, keeping your tone light.
Art hesitates before answering. âYeah, justâŠa lot on my mind.â
You frown, âDo you want to talk about it?â
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 youâll be able to tell what heâs thinking. Taking his silence as not wanting to talk, you continue on. You donât 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,â 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. âIt's not just the massages. I need you in my life, no more of this half-assed bullshit. I need all of you.â
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. Itâs 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 Artâs 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.Â
You think you hear Art calling out your name through all the static rushing through your ears, but youâre not sure, and you donât look back to check. Your feet pound against the tile as you run out of the pool house feeling like youâre about to throw up, or pass out. Artâs confession is the only thing running through your mind. The only thing thatâs 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.
âIs everything okay? I heard the door slam.â 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.Â
âEverything's fine!â Your voice sounds shaky despite your best efforts to calm yourself, youâre basically speed walking to the door. âI just, I got a phone call, and I need to leave. Right now. Iâm so sorry.â
You donât even wait for her to reply before youâre yanking the door open and rushing outside. You hope to God that she doesnât follow you outside. She doesnât.
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 Artâs words echoing in your mind.
âI need you.â
His voice had been so raw, so vulnerable, and it scared you. You werenât ready for that kind of emotion, that kind of responsibility, that kind of guilt. The weight of it had sent you running, and now youâre left grappling with the aftermath.
Fuck.
A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX HOURS LATERâŠ
The drive home was a blur. Rain and wind beating against the windshield nearly the whole time. Youâd laugh at how ironic it was, like Godâs punishing you with shitty weather, but youâre too busy fighting tears to find the humor in it.Â
The dread didnât 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 youâve 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.Â
Artâs 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.Â
You know you didnât run from Art because you donât want him, you ran because thereâs 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.Â
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. Itâs 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 isnât home tonight.
Maybe youâre the worst person in the world, but all the fight leaves your body the second you read Artâs 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.Â
As the house comes into view, you can see the front doorâs light is still on, waiting for you. You barely wait for the car to stop before youâre 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. Heâs 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 doesnât know whether to touch you or not. You want him to touch you so bad youâre 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, itâs 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 touchâit 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.Â
Gradually, the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent and fervent, a silent expression of everything words canât convey. Artâs 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.
Artâs 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.Â
âArt,â you say in between kisses, panting into his slick, open mouth. âI need you to fuck me.â
You can feel Artâs whole body shiver, groaning unabashedly into your mouth like heâs dying for it. âIâve been waiting weeks for you to finally admit that.â
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 Artâs pants are pooling at his ankles and heâs throwing his boxers carelessly over his shoulder.
âGod,â he breathes out, shaking his head like he canât believe you're giving him this, âYouâre so beautiful.â
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.Â
His eyes, intense and unwavering, lock onto yours. âYouâre fucking perfect.â
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 heâs got his hand down the front of your shorts, he groans when his hand makes contact with your bare skin. Youâd almost forgotten you hadnât 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.
âItâs been about me the whole time, baby. Let me fix that,â he whispers.
You nod your head wordlessly. You wouldnât 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. âIs this good?â Art asks quietly, voice tinged slightly with insecurity, like youâre not completely unraveling because of him.
âGod yes! Yes â fuck! â Art,â 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 doesnât 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 canât help himself, like his lips are magnetically drawn to your cunt, and presses a small kiss to your clit.Â
âFuck!â 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.Â
Artâs 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.
âFuck me Art please fuck me I need it so bad please-â you ramble nonsensically, pulling at Artâs hair desperately. You can feel the warmth starting to pool in your stomach, but you donât 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.Â
âFuck me, Art,â you breath hotly, hips canting up needily. âNo condom, Iâm on the pill. I want you to come inside me. Please, I need it.â
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.
âGod, youâre so fucking tight,â he says through gritted teeth, hands gripping your hips hard enough that you know youâll be bruised in the morning. âSo fucking perfect for me, such a perfect pussy for my cock.â
âMove.â 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 heâs easing you into it. Youâre grateful for it, youâve 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.
âShit! Right there, donât stop,â you slur breathlessly, feeling the familiar warmth swirling through your stomach as he fucks you.
âI love you.â 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 itâs suffocating.
Itâs soon, itâs way too soon. Youâve 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 Artâs cock fitting so perfectly in the wet heat of your cunt, you canât believe it took you this long. You love Art. Youâve 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 donât slow their rhythm. If anything he speeds up, hips thrusting against you desperately.
âPlease, please say it back,â he begs, voice thick with emotion, âSay it back, I need to hear you say it. Please,â
You surge up, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you can, ankles locking together across his back. Art couldnât pull out of you if he wanted to, judging from the long whine he lets out, he doesnât mind.
âI love you, Artâ 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 youâve 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.
âIâm gonna come, fuck, Iâm gonna fucking come,â 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.
Artâs cock gives a final twitch inside you before his hips are stilling and heâs coming with a broken moan, unloading everything he has into you. Youâre right behind him, vision whiting out as you come, thighs shaking where theyâre draped around his hips.Â
Art collapses onto you, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from the high of your orgasmâs. 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 youâve been missing.
Artâs soft voice pierces through the afterglow, âWill you hold me?â
âYes,â you whisper back, circling your arms around his shoulders.
âŠ
When you wake up hours later youâre beyond thirsty, dehydrated from all the crying, and maybe from the sex. Artâs 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 canât 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 itâs true. Your life is so completely fucked, you donât know if you care.
Art loves you.
Your smile doesnât leave your lips as you turn the corner, arms wrapped around yourself tightly, the warmth of Art's affection lingering like a gentle caress.
âHe smiles more.â
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.Â
Tashi looks at you from her spot across the room with an impassive look on her face, sheâs 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 youâre 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, itâs 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 thatâs 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.
âIâm his coach, I need to be hard on him or he fails. I refuse to let him fail,â she says softly, tone casual like sheâs not brushing the tip of your tongue with her fingers. âBut Iâm not stupid, I know what he needs. Someone sweet, someone gentle, someone who looks at him and doesnât see tennis.â
You couldnât answer her if you wanted to, but you wouldnât trust yourself to speak anyway. You feel far away and floaty the longer her fingers sit in your mouth, your brain feels like molasses.
âI canât give him what he needs. Iâm not that kind of person,â Tashi says, eyes roaming your face languidly, like sheâs window shopping your features. Her voice is nearly a whisper the next time she speaks, âbut you are. You could be that for him.â
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 âexclusive dealâ, the weird ass run-ins youâve had with her over the weeks.Â
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.
"Thereâs a car waiting for you outside,â she says, still close enough that you can feel her breath fan over your face, âSee 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.
Thereâs only one thing on your mind as you incredulously stare down the now empty hallâŠ
These people are so fucking weird.
#â đŻđąđ”đąđđȘđą đžđłđȘđ”đŠđŽ âĄ#natalia cant write anything under 1.000 words#this took me so long#it's seven in the morning lmao#someone help me write faster#cause it's such a problem#like seriously#okay bye#love you hope you like this#challengers#challengers movie#challengers x reader#challengers fanfic#challengers smut#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#art donaldson smut#mike faist#mike faist x reader#mike faist x you#tashi duncan#tashi duncan x you#sort of
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[The Ideal Gaze]
lab tester: @ichigosluvrr đ©»
pairing: DadBod!Miguel OâHara x Fem!Reader
summary: Miguel is feeling a bit out of your league, so you remind him that heâs just in your lane.Â
content warning: established relationship (theyâre married with kids!), domestic fluff, mild hurt/comfort due to Miguel being an idiot that does not understand The Female Gaze, some miscommunication between reader and Miguel, 18+ so MDNI, a little raunchier than I intended tbh but hopefully I presented DB!Mig well, body worship, heated tension, reader is like obsessed with Miguelâs new Dad Bod, deepthroat đ, missionary position, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP đ«”đŸ), the word Ma as a term of endearment from Miguel to reader two times
word count: 5.3k, halfway proofread
a/n: Fulfilling this first because this was technically my first request! I added a few more elements (thank you Miguel server!), so I hope you donât mind. There were no specific requests other than fluff and smut, so I went with the flow. I hope you enjoy! (Also, I found the original artist's post here!! Go give them some love!)
Your blood is pumping as you round the corner, only a few more steps until you reach the driveway.Â
The jog today was pretty refreshing. There were no calls from work asking about things that could wait until 8 AM, no toddler fussing about waking up, and no child whining about getting homework done. It was just you, your FitBit, your steamy audiobook, and the lingering thoughts of meeting your husbandâs eyes this morning. Lately, itâs been like a little game to rile him up.Â
Youâve been married for a few years and a family of four for seven years with a sweet little girl, a second grader with the attitude of an old lady, and a precious little boy, a preschooler with keen intuition. With your lives being consumed with work and taking care of the kids, you feel like your relationship has been put on the back burner. Long gone were the days in which you two made love at the drop of a hat, fucking on anything that could hold you. Now, you were lucky enough to get a little dry humping.
It was getting depressing, and more annoyingly, frustrating, so you started to put your riled-up energy elsewhere. You were up at the crack of dawn making everyoneâs lunches and going on occasional jogs, you were using your PTO for brunches with the girls and spa days, you had regular pilates classes, the real pilates, and most importantly, you were finding small pockets of time for yourself.Â
From buying yourself small gifts to filling your Kindle with romance books to pleasuring yourself on the nights Miguel worked overtime. You were sure to keep yourself busy. All of that, and you still couldnât get the thought of Miguel entangled with you out of your head.Â
You heaved out as you stopped at the end of the driveway, taking a few breaths to calm your state. The book you were listening to was on a particularly enthralling scene and you wondered if it was something that Miguel would be interested in trying.Â
You looked down at yourself and decided to unzip the top of your athletic jacket, letting the tightness of your bra and the fabric push your cleavage up. One smooth swipe of your clothes and you were walking to the front door.Â
It was 6:40 AM, so there was plenty of time to have a little quiet moment with your husband.Â
You walked into the kitchen and saw him standing in all of his glory. A newspaper in his left hand, because some things didnât need to be digitized, a âBest PapĂĄ Everâ mug in his right hand, black glasses on his face, and your favorite thing, a naked plush torso on display.Â
In the first years of parenthood, his metabolism was through the roof. Despite him joining you for every snack, meal, and midnight dessert, he never lost that tiny little waist or those washboard abs. It wasnât until your youngest was born and babbling that his appearance started to change. His arms became a mix of muscle and cellulite, his thighs were softer than ever, his chest was full and plump, and his waist widened gifting you with his soft belly and a happy trail that continued to his belly button.Â
The early time didnât stop the coil of neediness in your stomach from forming.Â
âGood morning, hubby,â you say with a lilt to your voice. You walked closer to him, an extra bounce in your step, and leaned on the island.Â
Sure enough, Miguel was peeking at your chest from over his glasses, mug hovering over his lips.Â
You only smiled coyly, waiting for his response.Â
âGood morning. How was your jog?â he puts the newspaper and mug down, folding his arms under his chest.Â
You stared at his bulging arms, pressed-up pecs, and his tummy that moved with him and almost whined.Â
âIt was really good. Super nice and refreshing. Maybe a little warm,â you crossed your legs, impatient. âHowâs your morning so far?â
âItâs better,â he says, making the short distance to crowd your space. He leans over you, hands going to the island. âMy wife is here now.â
You smile at his words, hands itching to touch him but not wanting to ruin the stride. Instead, you look up at him and pan his lips.Â
âIâm feeling better, too,â you whisper, waiting.Â
Miguel leans forward to press his lips onto yours, the smell of coffee hitting your senses. You feel little fireworks go off as he starts to open your mouth. Everything felt just right in this moment.Â
When his hand slid across your back, you almost jumped up to wrap your legs around him. You tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could feel yourself slipping against the counter, but Miguel was right there to steady you.Â
For what felt like hours to you after so long of a heated connection, the two of you made out on the kitchen island. Only some birds chirping, the occasional car passing by, and the hum of the washing machine could be heard next to the sound of you both breathing into each otherâs lips
âCome with me to the shower?â you say, eyes heavy and pleading.Â
You could feel Miguel tense up, back rigid as he moved back.Â
âI better stay. Raul might wake up soon and he was having a hard time sleeping last night.â
Your heart dropped at the rejection. You were hoping that this would be the one, the moment that youâve been anticipating for months. Some form of sexual connection.Â
âOk. Iâll be out soon,â you turn and go to the master bathroom, tugging the zipper down hastily. You felt a bit dejected and embarrassed, but youâre trying to let it go. Your mommy side knows that your youngest woke up in distress last night so it makes perfect sense that Miguel wants to be alert for his cries, but your wife side wants her husband back and canât help but feel like he didnât want you.Â
With this brisk shower, you hoped this self-doubt and neediness washed away with it.Â
You tapped your fingers against the desk, staring off at your computer. Work today was slow, which you didnât mind because that meant you could frequent your watchlist, but your mind kept wandering off while watching some random K-drama.Â
Last night, you woke up to what sounded like Miguel getting off in the bathroom.Â
He got off work super late that day, so you took the initiative to get the kids to bed and go to bed early.Â
What you didnât expect was to wake up to the sound of his grunts coming through the bathroom door.Â
At first, you were a little hurt that he didnât wake you up to help him out, but then you were so overcome by the sound of him whimpering and moaning that you couldnât help but pleasure yourself.Â
He sounded so desperate and wanton, cursing every once in a while. You bit your lip as you imagined him right next to you, voice right in your ear. You wanted his weight on you. You wanted to feel his skin against yours.Â
You lay in the empty bed rubbing yourself until you came, his noises stopping a while before you finished. You were hoping he would come out and see you so you prolong your orgasm to no avail, sleep coming to claim you before he did.Â
When you tried to ask him about it in the morning, he kept avoiding your eyes, saying something about his stomach giving him the blues.Â
You let it go then, but that didnât stop you from thinking about it all day.Â
In a spur-of-the-moment decision, you decide to text him a flirty message, running to the bathroom to take a picture to match. You waited a little bit, hoping that he could take at least a peek.Â
âYou look gorgeous, honey.â
Just gorgeous? Not hot? Not good enough to make him want more?
You scrunched your mouth to the side, asking if he could send a picture back.
âBaby, you know I canât. Iâm at work right now.âÂ
You huffed at that. You knew he was just in his lab by himself. There was plenty of time and solitude to take a picture. He used to send random pictures of himself all of the time.Â
For the rest of the day, you were irritated, feeling slighted at the hands of your husband.
You took a break from trying to seduce your husband, tired of the pushback. You put your all into taking care of the kids and maintaining the house when you could.
âAnd how many sticks does that leave Cassie with?â you asked Gabriella. You both were at the dining table with her math homework sprawled everywhere while dinner was in the oven.Â
â27!â she shouted, voice becoming more confident over the course of the math sheet.Â
âCorrect! Youâre knocking âem out, girl!â
âBuen trabajo, mija,â Miguel said with vigor as he came by to kiss the top of her head. âYouâre doing so well.â (Good job, mija.)
âDoes this mean I can get a cookie?â she asked, quick to melt her fatherâs heart.
âNot before dinner, Gabriella, you know this,â Miguel bounced Raul in his arms, a little fussy and sniffly.Â
âPlease, papĂĄ!â she looked up at him with big brown eyes and a pout. Â
Miguel sighed, unable to say no to her 9 times out of 10.Â
He looked at you frantically, watching you snickering behind your hands, âYou have to ask MamĂĄ.â
Whenever he really wanted to say no, he used you as a trump card.
Gabriellaâs shoulders drop as she turns to you, already knowing the drill.
âThe answer is no. You can wait until after dinner,â you say, squeezing her cheek.
âYou always say no,â Gabriella whines dramatically, slumping in her seat with her arms crossed, pout just like her dadâs.
âAnd you can always go to bed with no cookies,â you chide as you get up to go check on dinner. âNow go put your homework up and wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.â
She puts her papers back in her folder with the theatrics of a Broadway actor, sighing dramatically with each step she took to her room.
Miguel laughed at her actions watching her leave, âSheâs just like her Mami when she gets like that. Fussy.â
You pause to put your hand on your hip, âNo, sheâs just like her Father when she canât get her way. Whiny.â You open the oven and pull the lasagna out to the stove to cool a bit.Â
âWell, I canât say no to her just like I canât say no to you,â he says, placing Raul at the table with a hand running over his soft hair. âYou both have the same puppy-dog eyes.â
âYou like leaving the hard parenting to me.â
âThat is not true. I just tussled with a four-year-old to get him to take his cold medicine and made a promise of not one, but two bedtime stories,â he says, coming up behind you as you reached to get the dishes. He got them down for you instead, hand on your hips and stomach pressed against your back.
You bite your tongue in order not to will your negligent, horny brain from awakening. You didnât have time for those thoughts, little feet were near, and every advance you gave him ended in failure.Â
âIs he doing ok?â you say, referring to Raul he sat at the table with his head down, a teddy bear hugged against him as he pitifully moved his toy car back and forth. It was definitely a big shift from his usual talkative demeanor.
âWe might have to go to the doctor again. His allergies are really acting up.â
You leave Miguelâs side to go squat down by Raul, âHow are you feeling, sweetheart?â
You rubbed his back, trying to see if he felt warmer than usual and sure enough, he was burning up.
âMy throat hurts, Mama,â he said, little voice just about gone.Â
âOh, I know, my sweet baby,â you say with a soft voice. âDo you want me to make you some alphabet soup?â
Raulâs face twists up, lip a little wobbly, âBut I want some cheese noodles.â
âHey, itâs ok!. You can have some lasagna. I just want your throat to feel better. Hot things will make it feel better.â
âThe cheese noodles are hot, too.â
You smiled, âThatâs right, the cheese noodles are hot, but I mean a hot liquid.â
He stayed quiet for a moment, hands squeezing his teddy bear as he thought, âCan I have hot chocolate?â
âOf course you can. Can I give you a kiss?â
He nods his head slowly and you lean over to kiss his head. You needed to get him under the covers soon. Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around your neck, snuggling up to be held. You couldnât resist holding your baby, especially when you couldnât take his pain away.Â
You get up to see Miguel helping Gabriella plate the slices of lasagna on each plate and setting up the side salad. Your heart filled with joy watching them giggle over the stretchy cheese. It was moments like this that reminded you that you were taking the right steps, that this was the perfect little life. Â
As they set up the table with the plates and drinks, you kept Raul in your arms, ready to help him with tonight's dinner.Â
âThank you for the food, Mommy,â Gabriella said with a toothy smile.Â
âYouâre welcome, baby,â you say, cutting Raulâs food up even smaller, not wanting him to struggle any more than he had to tonight.Â
The table was quiet, save for Gabriella and Miguel smacking their food occasionally and Raulâs wheezy breaths.Â
By the time dinner was over, Gabriella was buzzing in her seat for cookies, and Raul was close to falling asleep in your arms.Â
You couldnât ask for anything better.Â
With Raul sound asleep, Gabriella tucked in bed, and Miguel watching cable, you had a moment to yourself to think.Â
Did todayâs small touches mean anything?
You stood in the bathroom moisturizing your skin after a hot bath. You said you were going to stop trying to fish for your husbandâs attention, but if you were honest, todayâs brief moment of connection did it for you. You couldnât stop your thoughts once you were alone.
You decide to wear just a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts to bed: a look that wasnât trying too hard to get his attention, but youâre sure heâs going to notice it.Â
You sat on the bed and decided to read until he came into the room. You hope you were giving a sexy girlfriend vibe. Your skin was all smooth, you smelled good, and you knew you looked good.Â
When Miguel walks in, he pauses at the door to stare at you.Â
âWhy are you looking at me like that? Come to bed,â you say.Â
Hook, line, and sinker.Â
Miguel shuffled over, eyeing you from head to toe. He looked delicious in his tank top, fabric stretched in the best possible ways.
He crawled on the bed next to you, âMy band t-shirt?â
âYeah! Itâs comfy.â
He rubbed his hand up your naked thigh and your nerves started to sing. Any further up, and you might just wet your panties from his touch alone. You missed it so much.Â
He leaned over to kiss the juncture your neck and shoulder, your neck, your cheek, and then he stopped.Â
He justâŠstopped.
âWell, I gotta go in earlier tomorrow, so Iâm going to sleep early. Is it ok if I turn this light off?
You felt your throat dry up, âYeah, ok.â
He got under the sheets and switched his lamp off, leaving you in the dark with the faint light of your Kindle illuminating the room.
âGoodnight, honey,â he said with a yawn.Â
âNight.â
You turned your Kindle off and just sat in silence, his snores breaking the illusion of the dark consuming you.Â
Youâre starting to think the worst.Â
You kept up a number of tactics subtle to glaringly obvious to appeal to your husband from changing up your perfume to what you would say was an amazing strip tease. Absolutely nothing is working.Â
He kept listing off excuses from the kids to his job to his parents to his brother, anything to avoid an intimate session with you. He even chose a night out with his boys over a night in bed with you which was jarring because he always made you feel good before going out to have a good time.Â
Did he not find you attractive anymore? You knew childbirth brought a lot of change, but you were still the same woman he met and fell in love with.Â
Did he not love you anymore? He often praised you for being a good mom and his pet names never stopped, but after that, his declaration of love for you had been very surface-level.
Is he cheating on you?
You really didnât want to entertain that thought, but your heart couldnât take any more pain than it already had.Â
So, one day when you say youâre taking the kids to the park, you drop them off at your momâs place instead, hoping that if there was something going on, no little hearts would be broken once you unleash a beast in the house.Â
You pull back in the driveway to see that heâs still here, just as you suspected. You make your way quietly through the house, inching closer to you allâs bedroom.Â
Your heart almost stops when you hear the sound of Miguelâs voice, high and breathy in a way that should only reach your ears. You donât think when you swing the door open, adrenaline pumping high. Â
Miguel yells, scared to death but alone.Â
âWhat are you doing?â you ask, voice frustrated.
âWhat am I doing? What are you doing?â
You look at the state heâs in, shirt up, waistband under his dick, and a mystery fabric in his hand.Â
âWere you getting off?â you say, hands dropping to your side. âDo youâŠdo you not love me anymore?â
âWhat?â
âDo you. Not. Love me anymore. You avoid me every time Iâve tried to initiate something with you. We havenât made love in so long. You keep making excuses to not be alone with me. You donât even want to do normal things with me like send pictures or makeout until weâre out of breath. Iâve heard you in the bathroom during the night and now youâre here doing the same thing, without me, your wife.â Your eyes start to water after it all, feeling utter defeat.Â
âCariño, this is a misunderstanding,â he pleads, voice distraught. âI do love you. Iâve never stopped loving you.â
âThen why are you doing this to me?â
âBecause,â he pauses, fixing his clothes to have some decency. âIâŠhavenât felt the greatest about my body.â
Your tears dry up as soon as the statement resonates, âWhat? What do you mean?â
Miguel sighs.
âLately, itâs getting harder and harder for my old clothes to fit me anymore, Iâm way too busy to hit the gym and more than anything, I think you deserve a man whoâs a little less,â he gestures to himself, âlet go.â
âSays who?â
He looks at you as if youâve grown two heads, âUh, everybody?â
âWell, who is everybody because Iâd like to strangle them for letting you think that my husband isnât good enough for me.â You walk deeper into the bedroom crowding Miguelâs space. âYouâll always be perfect for me. The vows I promised to you will not be broken over something so normal as weight gain.â
He looked like he could cry.Â
âWhy did you hide you were feeling this way, baby?â you hold his head in your hands scratching at his scalp.Â
âIt felt stupid and silly. Youâve been doing so well socially and physically, I wanted to see if I could fix it on my own before bringing you down with my problems.â
âMiguel OâHara,â you say, gripping his jaw firmly. âIâm your wife. I might not be able to solve everything, but at the very least, you need to talk to me. Tell me how youâre feeling, express yourself with words. Donât hide.â
He wrapped his arms around you, sniffling, âI know. Iâm sorry. It wonât happen again.â
You pressed a long kiss into his scalp, rubbing his back.Â
âOh my gosh,â you chuckled. âYou were feeling so much internally, meanwhile I was practically screaming at you to fuck me. I thought you werenât attracted to me anymore.âÂ
So much for communication.Â
Miguel just burried his face in your chest while he groaned, âThatâs the thing! You were driving me crazy with your tight little workout clothes and your lingerie. You looked so good, but I couldnât get out of my own head. Iâve beenâŠâ
âYouâve been what?â
âI,â he got red in the face. âIâve been using your underwear.â
You look down to Miguelâs crumbled up hand and it was in fact your underwear from the night you wore his band t-shirt, drenched in his essence.
Your stomach turned with excitement.
âSo this is what you were doing in the bathroom in the middle of the night, hm? Using my panties? Giving them more action and attention than me?â
Miguel nodded, eyes hazy.
âDid it feel good?â
Another nod.
âI bet it did. I would wake up and hear you trying so hard to cum.â
You donât know how, but his face got even warmer.
âYou left your poor wife all alone, thinking about you on top of her until she came too.â
âI did?â
âYou didnât know?â you ask, playfully. âI was up all night imagining you walking out to see me. I wanted these arms to come and hold me.â
You squeeze at his arms on your sides.Â
âI wanted your weight on me. I wanted your chest against mine.I needed you so bad.â
You move to sit in his lap, knees on the side of him.
âYou do such a great job of being a father. This beautiful change in your body is only proof of your hard work and dedication. Itâs proof of love for your family.â
Miguel only melted in your hands, face a cloud of emotion.
âI love you, Miguel. I adore you. I yearn for you. I want you.â
With every declaration, came a kiss to his lips.
âCan I show you how much I love you?â
âPlease.â
With that, you took his shirt off and made your way down his chest. You lingered around his chest, holding his pecs as you kissed them all over. You couldnât stop your moans as your tongue felt across the hairy planes of his chest, sucking and pulling on his nipples. Miguel shudders as you pay special attention to them, sensitive after not being with you for so long.
âYou donât know how long Iâve wanted this,â you breathe into his skin. You slide onto the floor and just press your face into his stomach.
âYou like it that much?â
âLove it. You look so yummy walking around. You could be just standing there and I get so,â you cut yourself off, trying not to overwhelm him with just how much you were feeling. âYouâre hot, baby.â
You kiss down his happy trail to reach his pants, his stomach twitching. You tugged a bit too hard on his pants, causing him to laugh.Â
âWhatâs so funny?â you say with a pout.Â
âI havenât seen you like this since we won that coupleâs retreat.â
âNot my fault. You were all sexy up there, beating the other husbands with your big brain. It was doing something to me.â
You finished pulling and you could almost cry with joy when Miguelâs cock springs next to your head. The sound you make when you see it also has Miguel wound tight.Â
Completely taken over by your neediness and desperation, you pull one of his thick legs over your shoulder, kissing and sucking on the skin while your fingertips dance around the entirety of his length.Â
The display of strength shocks Miguel who drips and whines at your actions.Â
âIâm gonna make you feel so good, baby. Do you want that?â
âYes,â he whispers.Â
You cup him while you take his head in your mouth. It felt like pure bliss to have that familiar taste in your mouth. With the way you were humming, Miguel can tell that you were about to put him to sleep.Â
You took no time letting your tongue stretch to take more of him in. Your cheeks hollow as you go further, one hand kneading at the thigh you were holding and the other switching from fondling him to wrapping around the base of his length.Â
âGod,â Miguelâs voice filled the room, the loudest it had been for the past few months. âI donât think Iâll last that long.â
You let go of him and lick down the sides, âThatâs because youâre too busy fucking other things instead of me.â
ââM sorry,â he whined as you went back down on him. âI-I was still thinking of you and, ngh, wanting you.â
âMm hm,â your voice sent shocks down his spine as you didnât let go. He moved his hips steadily, dick sliding in and out of your mouth and pudge occasionally pressing against your face.Â
The faster he went, the noisier the sounds got. He moved his hands to your head, thighs eerily close to tightening around your face. You couldnât have it any better.Â
You dug your nails into his hips, throat contracting in order to take him in. Even with your jaw slacked, itâs been so long since you took him like this that you gagged more often than not. With every sound of your throat struggling, Miguel shouted your name, hands gripping tighter on your hair.
You could tell he was close by the way his thigh was tensing on your shoulder, so when he said the four words, you took him to the hilt, face completely pressed against him.Â
âShit!â he felt like passing out as he released into your throat. You swallowed as much as you could, but you couldnât take it all, saliva and cum esxaping down your chin to his balls.Â
He grunts when he pulls you off, chest moving sporadically.Â
You lick your lips and let out a satisfied sigh, âFinally.â
Miguel could only chuckle as he laid back on the bed. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his thighs with a smile. You rub your hands on the skin of stomach, slowly getting to his chest, âIâm like, really wet right now if you want some more painties to use.â
He growled as he pulled you closer.
âYouâre never going to let that go, are you?â
âNope,â you say, popping the P. âI really want you to do it in front of me. Maybe send me a video for the nights you work overtime.â
He had the nerve to look embarrassed as he wrapped his arms around your back, âI might be able to arrange that.â He kissed your lips to distract you from speaking on it further.
After Miguel returned the favor with his head between your legs, the both of you were enjoying a quiet moment together before having to go pick up the kids.
âI canât believe you thought I was cheating on you,â Miguel said as you were drawing circles on his chest.
âMiguel,â you say, lifting your head. âI pulled all the stops. I did things that I knew you loved: the t-shirts, going commando, the flirty pictures. I even brought whipped cream to the bedroom and you told me âI canât eat that, itâll blow up my stomach,â when you were literally in the kitchen taking shots of it the night before.â
âOk. So I see how you might have gotten to that ludicrous conclusion, but did you not notice how much Iâve been staring at you?â
You clicked your teeth, âYeah, but what does that mean when you donât act on it?â
Miguel twisted his lip, âWill you feel better if I told you that your work pictures turned me on too?â
You pinched him resulting in a yelp, âIâll feel better right now if you give me a shower round.â
He pulled you in his arms as he got out of the bed, âLetâs go before your mom calls.â
You giggle and swing your feet on the way.
After your afternoon of praising his body, Miguel emerged as his previous confident self. This meant more days with him walking around shirtless, more quickies in the morning, makeouts that ended in pleasure, him smacking your ass, you smacking his ass back, and sex. Lots and lots of sex.
Right now, Raul was down for a nap and Gabriella was enjoying her tablet time.Â
You, however, were clawing at Miguelâs back like a cat as he pounded you into the mattress.Â
âFuck!â you shouted, eyelids fluttering as Miguelâs cock dragged across your walls. âIt feels so good.â
âQuiet, mi vida,â he whispered. âThe kids are in their rooms.â
You were quick to cover your mouth, moans muffled. It really didnât matter because the creaks of the bed were just as loud as you. One change in position and the headboard denting the walls could be added to it.Â
It was all too much.Â
First, he woke you up with kisses down your body and a promise to lighten your load around the house. Then, he got the kids up and prepared breakfast with the help of Raul. Later while you were out running errands, he sent you a coupon for a spa that just opened up down the street and warm message.Â
Now, he has you losing your mind with his hips slapping against yours, whispering praises in your ear.
âMiguel!â
âHm? Talk to me.â
âI-I canât-â your voice keeps getting louder unintentionally. He was so calm while he was reaching so deep inside. Your mind was hazy, wanting nothing more than him to keep going.
âYouâre doing so good, Ma. Youâre so good to me and the kids. Youâre such a beautiful wife. Such a pretty Mama. Just wanna make you feel good.â
You felt yourself clench around him at his words, tears falling across your temples. He kissed your tears tenderly, strokes getting deeper.Â
âM-Miguel,â you say with your heart full. âI love you.â
âI love you too, baby. So, so deeply,â
That was all it took for you to suck him in and scream into his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulder blades. His release was soon after, painting your walls with his lips pressed against your ear.
âPapĂĄ! You have to be more careful,â Gabriella fussed with her hands on her hips while Miguel was in the kitchen trying to make the family a snack. âYou got hurt at work!â
Miguel paused and reached behind his back, fingers roaming over the healing scratches on his shoulder from his last session with you.Â
You covered your teeth with your lips as Miguel turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised.Â
âItâs ok, mija. PapĂĄ is tough!â
âBut you gotta put something on it,â Gabriella said with a huff.
âThank you for your concern, nena. Iâll get MamĂĄ to take care of it, ok?â he ruffled her hair as he handed her a plate of bunny-shaped apple slices. âNow go sit with your brother and watch some TV.â
Miguel huffed as he walked up to the side of you with his arms crossed.
âWhat? You should put your shirt on!â
âThatâs not what you said when you-â
âHush and go get the aloe.â
Miguel snickered as he gave your lips a peck, âYeah, yeah.â
Life was wonderfully sweet.
With that, my first request is done! As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! đ©”
#to the lab testers đ©»#love lab fics đ§«#DadBod!Miguel đšâđ§#miguel oâhara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara smut#dadbod!miguel#dad bod miguel#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#miguel 2099#miguel fanfic#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara x fem!reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel ohara fanfiction#miguel ohara smut#miguel ohara x fem!reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel oâhara#miguel oâhara smut#miguel smut#miguel spiderverse#miguel x you#miguel ohara
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Hi, Max and reader are dating (private) for a few years. reader is also working for Oracle (red bull's sponsor) and she comes to a race and surprises max.â„ïž
this requestttt!!! wanted to twist it a little <3 added lando for some fun flare ; reader & max want to keep it private but can't help but drop hints bc they love the chaos
locked longings ⧠âșËł
max verstappen x reader (smau)
summary: a private relationship online with fem!reader and max slowly comes to light
song: the alchemy by taylor swift
author's note: never done an smau before and lowkey underestimated the time it took byeee ; open to more requests for smaus <3 (no face claim imagine whoever i just liked the pics)
ynusername my sweet sweet summer <3
liked by redbullracing, maxverstappen1, and others
-user8456 am i the only one wondering if her and max fell off :(
-user9902 they are probably both hella busy
-user4558 the most gorgeous redbull employee đ
-landonorris can you bring me a redbull pls
-ynusername no.
-user5041 WAIT ARE THEY TOGETHER??
maxverstappen1 A much needed break, but can't wait get back to racing soon.
liked by charlesleclerc, ynusername, and others
-user4558 max turns into mr.worldwide on vacation
-charlesleclerc do you ever sleep?
-maxverstappen1 no.
-user9681 not the same joke y/n used with lando đ
-user1141 they are so best friend coded
redbullracing What a wonderful day to get back to racing in Spa!
liked by maxverstappen1, ynusername, and others
-landonorris prepare to lose @/maxverstappen1
-maxverstappen1 says the man starting at p11
-ynusername cooked him omg-
-user4802 i can't tell if max actually likes lando or not đ
-ynusername don't worry they are buddies!
-user3356 OH?
-user2301 y/n blink twice if you and lando are dating
ynusername back to work as usual! congrats to the big number 1 on the win!
liked by charlesleclerc, redbullracing, and others
-user3105 max not lurking in the comments is rare...
-user4301 maybe bc she's with someone?
-user6882 stop pushing the y/n x lando agenda oh my goddd
-user2240 THE POLAROID AWWW đ
landonorris Good times in Spa <3
liked by ynusername, mclaren, and others
-user4505 wait...that isn't y/n
-user4802 the y/n lando truthers are crumblingggg
-user3893 OMGG so happy for u lando!!!
-mclaren That's our boyyy! đ§Ą
ynusername glad i could finally see these gorgeous cars in action this weekend <3 a lovely time with wonderful people!
liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, and others
maxverstappen1 đđđ
-user3489 the social implications of these hearts
-user2210 that's a real friendly hug there...
-user5572 WOAH WAIT MAX & Y/N
-landonorris can you be my good luck charm next pls
-ynusername hmm i think i'll be busy that day
-user7005 lando what do you know.
maxverstappen1 Happy guy!
liked by ynusername, charlesleclerc, and others
-ynusername the caption, simple, but effective!
-user2804 love them together so much i need the rumors to be true
-landonorris a man of many words
-user1156 y/n and max together would make me combust
-user4401 i need them to be happy together đ
-user5969 they are TRAVELING together it HAS to be true
-user2131 he's texting her in the last pic fs
ynusername the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me đ€
liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, and others
-user2202 the taylor lyric OHHH they are so in loveee
-landonorris ugh finally i was tired of keeping my mouth shut
-ynusername yeah bc we all know you're so good at it too
-user3335 I KNEW ITTTTTT
-maxverstappen1 Happy 4 years my love đ
ynusername love youuu <3
-user1203 FOUR YEARS?!?!
-user6061 keeping it private for 4 years...yeah they are endgame.
-charlesleclerc Paddock romance of the century!!!
#formula 1#formula one#f1 x reader#formula one fanfic#f1 fanfic#f1#lando norris#f1 fic#charles leclerc#f1 imagine#max verstappen#charlesleclerc#formula1#max verstappen x y/n#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#social media#social media au#formula 1 x reader#f1 fanfiction#f1 social media au#formula 1 au
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