#i love her so much she’s my little pookie bear

[veronicalolsies]

Sarah Lynn :) digitalized a sketch i did in class !!

[dangergays]

may 2022 (ibis paint) vs april 2024 (procreate)

[sceletaflores]

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

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

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

Baby, show me where it hurts...

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

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

— or: art donaldson needs a massage therapist…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You do.

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

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

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

"What the fuck."

SIX DAYS LATER...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No question marks. Motherfucker.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

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

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

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

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

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

Art didn’t speak much as you worked, just laying on the table silently after saying hello and asking you about your week. The silence is definitely odd, Art’s not a chatterbox by any means, but he usually keeps some form of conversation flowing. After a while, you start to think it might be something you did, like maybe he’s mad at you. It sounds so stupid in your head, like you’re some poor high school girl getting hung up over a fucking guy giving you the silent treatment.

The only thing more stupid than that is how much it’s actually affecting you. Art has you over analyzing everything you’ve said or done over the last couple visits, you dread that maybe he just came to his senses after all this time. That he finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in and remembered he has a beautiful wife, and that he doesn’t really want you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who are you to deny him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Without breaking eye contact, you speak.

“You’re so good, Art.” 

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

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

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need you.”

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

Fuck.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX HOURS LATER…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Art okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

Art loves you.

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

“He smiles more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was never about the goddamn massages.

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

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

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

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

These people are so fucking weird.

[sapphicbb]

RIGHT HERE — paige bueckers

≋ pairing → p. bueckers x danceteammember!reader

≋ song → right here by justin bieber ft. drake

≋ warnings → fluff, angst, another situationship… sorry yall i can’t get enough!, background lore: exes turned friends turned situationship, mentions of sex (not smut), use of y/n, not edited sorry!!

≋ word count → 3.5k

≋ notes → if anyone is reading this i hope you enjoyoyy! oh also heads up all my stories are gonna be black and/or latina coded reader unless stated otherwise!! ngl this was supposed to be longer but I cut off the whole ending section sorry not my best work at allll … anywho love my wife pookie bear paige sm

your head on paige’s chest, her warm protective hold envoloped you as she watched you sleep. you looked so peaceful, which paige loved, because when you first came over to her dorm that evening you had looked the most stressed she had seen you in the past few months.

she was happy that she was still one of the few people you went to when you needed to decompress and vent about your day, as you were hers. she subconsciously drew light circles into your side as her eyes slowly blinked, fighting the craving for sleep that was overcoming her senses.

not long after her quiet snores were heard along with your light breathes. but of course this didn't last for long. almost fifteen minutes later, a repeating series of knocks were heard on the door. paige groaned and squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the knocking.

“i know you hear me knocking.” kk’s voice was heard from the other side, causing your eyes to flutter open. your attempts to remove yourself from paige’s hold were unsuccessful as she pulled you in closer—if that was even possible.

“if we ignore her long enough she’ll go away.” paige whispered with her eyes still shut. you lightly laughed at her words. “paige that's mean, i’m gonna go say hi.” you tried to unlatch her arms from around your waist but she wouldn't budge. “no, stay here with me and go back to sleep.”

she pressed your head back against her chest, urging you to go back to sleep which made you laugh. “as much as i would love to keep sleeping on your boobs, i haven't seen kk since the last game.” paige sucked her teeth at your words and slightly opened her eyes to look down at your giddy smile.

“hey kk!” you loudly called out to the girl on the other side of the door. “oh shit, y/n’s here? hey y/n, girl!” she drew out, the smile on her face was evident in her voice. “wait a second, why y'all not answering the door? better not be up to no freaky deaky shit… y'all decent?” paige began to laugh, causing you to finally break from her hold and softly hit her shoulder.

“yeah, wait a minute.” you removed the covers from both of you and got off of the bed, but before you could fully begin moving towards the door, paige pulled you by the waist band of her pajama pants that you were wearing and turned you back around.

before you could say anything, she sat up and fixed your tank top that had ridden down. you thanked her before and proceeding to the door. “ah hell nah, y'all taking too lo-” you cut off the girl standing in front of the door when you opened it. “we were just taking a nap.” you explained while moving to hug the girl.

“well, i’m sorry for waking y'all up.” she stated, taking a minute to fake think before laughing. “i lied, i’m not even a little sorry.” you waved her off and moved back to paige’s bed, sitting down and watching the girl who welcomed herself in.

paige sat against the headboard, her gaze also on kk. “why'd you even come knocking?” the blonde questioned, hands folded against her torso. “i was thinking about going on a target run but didn't want to go alone.” she explained with a shrug, doing the chill guy stance.

you laughed and patted paige’s knee. “you should go with her.” she furrowed her brows, looking you up and down. “you’re not coming?” you shook your head and laid back.

“i’ve been meaning to chit chat with my cutie pie azzi.” you excused, stretching before turning your head to the blonde girl who was side eyeing you. “i’ll be waiting in the living room.” kk called out in a sing-song voice while leaving the room.

paige sighed and threw her legs over the side of the bed. “thank you for letting me vent to you.” you thanked her as you watched her get up from the bed and walk to her closet. “you know you don't gotta thank me for that. plus, my offer still stands.” you laughed at her remark and sat up.

it was almost immediately after dance practice ended that you texted paige and asked to come over. you had been crying and your face was all puffy, but you didn't care at that point. she's seen you look worse.

when you showed up, she instantly took you into a hug and brought you to her room where you the words just flowed out your mouth. today's practice was extra stressful and you felt that the dance captain, emily, was specifically picking on you all practice.

there was a section of a new dance the coach had just started teaching and before emily even fully learned it herself, she started picking at the little mistakes you made. that irritated you, but you let it be.

she kept on making sly indirect comments towards you, but you let it be. it wasn't until after practice when you were grabbing your duffle bag from the corner of the practice room when you heard her talk to the coach, trying to convince her that you needed to be kicked off the team.

that was when you felt your eyes glossing over. you knew you were a damn good dancer, maybe even one of the best on the team, but you also knew the power she had over the coach. her word was stronger than yours.

what also confused you was the fact that she hadn't acted like that towards you until about two weeks ago. paige offered to have her and the girls go jump the girl but you instantly declined. she then offered to just confront her for you, but you turned her down because you wanted to fight your own battles.

“thank you p, but it's still a no.” you replied, watching her skim through her closet to find a hoodie. “i’m just saying at the next game if i see her moving weirdly, i’m gonna say something. i know how you are and you're too nice to tell her all that she needs to hear.” paige casually stated with a shrug, grabbing a green hoodie from out of the closet and throwing it over her head.

you sighed and leaned back on your elbows. “paige, i’m serious, don't do anything.” your gaze followed her travelling figure until she stood in between your legs. “i’m serious, too. she can't just walk all over you like that.” she held serious, yet delicate, eye contact with a tone of finality in her voice.

you let out a dramatic sigh and broke eye contact as it got to strong. “yo, stop looking at me like that.” she let out a boisterous laugh at your words, loving the impact her simple eye contact had on you. “alright,” she hummed before continuing, “were continuing our nap when I get back. text me if you want anything.”

she leaned down, softly grabbing the back of your neck as she laid a few pecks on your smiling lips. you pulled her down for one last kiss, lasting a bit longer before playfully pushing her away. “okay, now go before kk gets bothered by how long you're taking.” you shooed her away, watching her slip on a pair of crocs and grab her keys and wallet with a goofy grin on her face.

she waved goodbye and exited the room. after a few seconds you hear the faint sound of kk saying “finally!” and let out a couple of laughs before getting off the bed. you slid on the slippers paige had for you when you would come over and left the room, making your way down the hall to azzi’s room.

you melodically knocked on the door, leaning back and forth as you waited for azzi to answer. “come in!” you faintly hear from the other side before opening the door. “hey, cutie pie.” you drew out with a smile, walking into the room and draping your arms around the girl who sat at her desk.

“boo bear!” she exclaimed with a smile as she hugged you back. the two of you have always called each other affectionate names like cutie pie and boo bear due to an inside joke.

you unraveled your arms around azzi before walking over to and falling backwards onto her bed, lightly kicking off your slippers. “when did you get here?” she asked, leaving the roblox obby she had been previously playing and giving you her full attention.

“a while ago, but i was with paige.” you explained, changing your position so that you were laying on your stomach, head propped atop your hands as you looked at the girl who twirled her chair in your direction. “oh? how’s that going?” she said with a sly smile, rolling her chair closer to her bed.

you let out a dramatic sigh and shifted your head onto one arm. “to be honest, it’s definitely… going! why? has she said anything to you?” you tried to be casual with your response, but the eager tone slipped through at the end.

“ice and i have been trying to get info from her but she's been so hard to read, so we were hoping to get something out of you…” azzi lengthened her words, lightly poking your cheek and watching you let out a groan.

you watched the curly haired girl get up from her chair and plop down on the bed next to you. “who does she think she is? the riddler? like we do basically almost everything we did when we were in a relationship, but we’re not back together…?” your brows furrowed as you felt yourself growing irritated with the girl who wasn't even present.

azzi rose a brow at your remark, almost instantly causing you to hold a hand up in her direction. “before you even say anything, no, we haven't had sex since we've broken up. she respects my rule and hasn't purposefully tried anything.” azzi let out an understanding hum and nodded.

when you and paige began getting “comfy” with one another again, you had set a rule—which you often found yourself regretting—of not having sex unless you guys get back together. there has been moments where the two of you almost succumbed to the desires, but one of you always pulled back.

when you had first told azzi and ice about the rule during a gossip sesh, ice called you boring for it and azzi said that it was a responsible thing to do. “at this point, just ask her out.” azzi declared, letting out a sigh of defeat at your immediate head shake.

“absolutely not. i was the one that asked her out when we were together and then she was the one who called things off. i will never be embarrassed like that again. if she doesn't ask me out, we’ll never get back together. i’ll just wait it out, i’m a very patient girl.” you retorted in a single breath watching azzi’s eyes roll.

“i’m going to have to smack some sense into the two of you if you guys don't get back together within the next month.” azzi sternly stated but the playfulness was visible within her eyes. you laughed at her comment and rolled on your back.

“oh, so you think i’m joking?” azzi followed up and crossed her arms. “no, not at all.” you quickly responded, wiping the smile off your face. azzi laughed at your switch up and patted your knee.

after a good twenty minutes of being lost in conversation, the two of you heard some knocks on the door. at this point, the two of yo were both laying on your backs, too comfortable to get up. “come in!” azzi called out, both of your eyes glued to the door.

an upside-down perspective of paige came into view as she walked through the doorframe. “i’m here to kidnap y/n for our scheduled sleep sesh.” she announced while walking closer to where you and azzi laid.

you groaned as you felt paige pull you up from the comfortable position you were in. she tapped her foot as she waited for you to fully stand up and put the slippers back on. after doing so she grabbed your hand and led you to the door.

“if you get bored from hanging out with miss snooze fest, you know where to find me!” azzi called out with a teasing smile as she saw paige roll her eyes. “azzi, shut up!” she said in response, causing you to laugh.

“ladies, ladies, there's enough of me to go around.” paige side eyed you as soon as the words escaped your mouth, fully pulling you out of the room and closing the door behind you.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

you angled your phone to capture you and two of your teammates in a pre-game selfie, each one of you posing with one of your white poms. after taking a couple of pictures, a notification from paige popped up at the top of your phone.

you quickly brought your phone down, but not fast enough for your teammates not to see. “oh my god, finally!” you heard one of them, deborah, exclaim, turning to see both of them with wide smiles on their faces.

“we needed the two of you to get back together.” the other one, taylor, followed up with an overdramatized sigh of relief, holding a hand to her heart. you shook your head at their silliness, “we’re not back together.” you turned down their claims, earning dismissive waves.

“whatever you say but your girl wanted to see you before the game.” deborah sang, slightly shaking your shoulders as a smile teased at the corner of your lips. “yeah, and you better go up to her before emily makes a move.” taylor urged with her deadly gaze locked on the girl approaching a certain blonde baller across the hall.

“oh hell no.” deborah looked between your facial expression, which wasn’t expressing much, and the scene at the end of the hall before moving to charge towards them. taylor grabbed her after she took a couple steps and put her behind the two of you.

“y/n, you better go see whats going on over there before deb does it for you.” taylor informed with raised eyebrows, keeping an arm around deborah who was mad for you. you sucked your teeth and put a hand on your hip.

“trust me, emily is not a threat… if there was anything to be threatened.” you promptly followed up with as you watched the smiles slide onto their faces. “okay, period, loving this security in your relationship. but you know how emily is. she won't stop until she gets what she wants.” taylor spoke as you drifted your gaze back over to the two women across the hall.

you ran your tongue against your bottom lip, thinking over your options on what to do in that moment. “i guess it wouldn't hurt to go see whats going on. i mean technically paige wanted me over there anyways.” your two teammates quietly cheered, deborah hopping and taylor clapping.

you playfully shushed them and gave taylor your pom to hold before walking down what seemed to be the longest hallway. once you got closer you could more vividly see paige’s bored facial expression and emily’s hand reaching towards the girl’s arm.

you could almost laugh at the scene, quickening your step until you were right next to the pair. “hey, paige, emily.” you made your presence known, illiciting a genuine smile and a look of relief from paige, but a look of disdain and a feigned smile from emily.

“y/n, hey!” emily dragged out with an eeringly fake bubbily voice, bringing you into a tight hug. you hesitantly hugged back, taking the opportunity to side eye paige who was trying to discretely hide her amused smile behind her hand.

“paige and i were just having a private chat…” she added after you pulled away, her hand moving to touch paige’s arm but the girl simultaneously moved it away, rubbing the back of her neck.

you swallowed the laugh down and moved your gaze between their faces. “don't know about ‘private’, but yeah emma was just talking to me.” paige reworded, purposefully getting the girl’s name wrong.

you couldn't restrain the small curl at the corner of your lips, seeing how emily’s eye slightly twitched at paige’s words. she tried to play it off with a chirpy giggle and run a hand through her hair. “emily, you mean?” you asked paige with a feigned expression of confusion. you knew exactly what she was doing and she knew it.

“emma, emily, whatever is fine.” emily brushed it off, faintly narrowing her eyes as she began to turn toward you. “y/n… are you ready for today? i know how you can get.” she put a hand on your arm, offering a look of concern that the naked eye would believe was genuine but anyone with context would know was fake.

“never been more ready.” you offered her a sickly sweet smile, placing your hand on top of hers that laid on your arm before removing it. “yeah, she got it.” paige affirmed with a toothy smile, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and pulling you into her side.

emily’s smile dimmed as her gaze flickered to paige’s arm wrapped around your shoulder. “cute. didn't know the two of you were… close again.” she shifted her weight onto her other foot, making an effort to keep her poker face.

“mhm, yeah. oh, emily! i think i heard coach was looking for you…” you smoothly lied, causing her to stand up straight. “thanks, i guess i’ll go look for her.” she thanked you before trailing her eyes to paige.

“bye paige, good luck today.” she gave the blonde a sweet smile accompanied by a flirtatious wave, twirling on her feet before walking back down the hall she came from. paige took no time to lead you around the corner into an empty room.

“bye paige, good luck today.” you teased with a smile, resulting in the blonde playfully rolling her eyes and letting out a chuckle. “see how I held back?” she smartly questioned with a brow raise.

you endearingly rolled your eyes and placed yourself in front of the girl. “thank you for that. i know that took a lot in you.” she hummed, crossing her arms and nodding at your words.

“but i promise you, if it even looks like she's disrespecting you at today's game…” she took a moment to comfortably wrap her arms around you. “i know, p. i know.” you saw the way she searched your eyes for any signs of doubt in her innuendo.

“all the dots connected, though.” you informed, watching the confused look that formed on the girl’s face. “she wants you bad.” you enunciate with a shrug, pointing out the obvious. “she told you that?” paige rose her eyebrows in amusement at your claim.

“she didn't have to, it’s so obvious. that's why she's been dogging on me at practice.” you explained, earning a slow nod from paige. “she’s been doing all that just for me not to like her back. insane…” paige drew out with a shoulder shaking laugh.

you let out a small laugh and shook your head. “mhm, and why is that?” you pried, holding eye contact with paige as she slowly swung the two of you side to side. “other than her being a bitch? i got my eye on someone else.” she disclosed with a guileful smile, her gaze flickering down to your lips.

“oh, really?” she hummed a confirmation at your follow up question. “lucky, lucky girl.” the sound of your phone vibrating disrupting the brewing tension that filled the room. with a loud sigh, paige unraveled her arms around you, allowing you to check your phone.

a text from taylor displayed on the notification hub, informing you that your coach was calling for the whole team. “ i gotta go. meet afterwards?” you questioned and paige immediately agreed.

“duh, of course. you better cheer extra loud for me too.” playfully side eyed as you made your way towards the door. “i’ll think about it. drop a calm twenty for me?” you replied with your hand on the handle.

“i was gonna drop twenty regardless, but i guess i could do that for you.” paige feigned a nonchalant tone, grinning at how you blew her a kiss before fully exciting the room.

once the door fully closed she shook her head, the smile still evident as she wiped her hands down her face. its safe to say she dropped twenty-seven points for you.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

The right ones.

Pic credits

Pairing: Soft!Joel Miller x reader, no outbreak (Sarah is alive and well)

Summary: Joel buys you pads. ‘Cause Joel provides, you know, no matter the situation.

Tags: established relationship, pet names (baby, honey), reader has period and hair, no other description is given, mention of period symptoms, mention of cramps, mention of pads, mention of Sarah, flirting, kissing, Joel is a sweet pookie bear, I think that’s all? It’s just some tiny little fluff I wrote because I’m about to get my period and I need some comfort 🥲

I tried to write it in a neutral way so that every person who menstruates can identify with it, I hope I succeeded. (if you think there are things that need to be changed, just tell me and I'll do it ❤️)

English is not my first language, no beta and no proofreading so any mistake is all my fault, I’m sorry 💀

Thanks to anyone who will read this!

Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️

Your cell phone rings.

“Hey! What’s up, honey?”

“Um… listen, which ones did you say you need?”

“The ones with wings, Joel. Blue box, second shelf from the bottom.”

Usually you are the one who takes care of groceries and hygiene products shopping and by now you know by heart where they are.

“Mh…” you can see him. In the middle of the aisle, frowning, one hand on his hip and the other one holding the phone, one knee slightly forward, as he tries to maneuver through the boxes, they must all look the same to him.

“The ones that say ‘night, with wings, extra long’,” you add to try to help him.

Silence follows, several deep breaths, an undertone of exasperation, you bite your lower lip to keep from bursting out laughing. You don’t want to make fun of him, he’s trying hard to make it right.

He offered to do it for you this morning while you were in the bathroom and you discovered that not only had your period decided to come early but you were also almost out of pads.

You let out a sigh and cursed, “Oh damn!” You were in a foul mood, the cramps were making you squirm, your head was hurting, your back was tormenting you.

He was getting dressed, clearly heard you and asked worried “what’s wrong?”

You walked out of the bathroom with your head down and one hand on your stomach feeling miserable “UGH, my stupid period came and I’m running out of pads”

You sat on the bed and grabbed your phone from the nightstand as a terrible nausea hit you, and you called out of work saying you were sick.

His large hand caressed your face as he leaned down to kiss you.

“I’ll go to the supermarket during lunch break,” he said softly “Stay in bed and rest, okay?”

“Thank you so much” you said, lying down on the bed again and burying your face into your pillow, feeling cramps clawing inside you “you’re the absolute best”

He leaned to kiss your cheek and then left the house to reach the construction site.

—————

He had done it for Sarah one of the first times she had her period and he had bought the wrong type, the thick and bulky ones, she had looked at the box with a downhearted expression that had made his heart sink.

“Those aren't the ones I wanted, Dad! I told you extra thin!” She screamed at him between sobs.

Joel felt like a good-for-nothing.

Making Sarah cry was terrible for him.

He later discovered that his daughter's tantrum was also a side effect of her period and Sarah had apologized to him but Joel still felt that he was the one who had to apologize for his lone wolf status that didn't allow him to have someone by his side to ask for help.

He would have liked to fall in love, yet he had to make it on his own, he certainly didn’t have time to date between work and all the other things he had to take care of. Being a single dad was a full time job.

After that, Joel had memorized the type that Sarah liked best but she had always conveniently made sure to stock up every time they went to the supermarket.

It had been many years since he had bought them for her and he found himself back at square one. Packages are so different, he could swear there are a dozen new ones he's never seen before.

He pinches his nose, takes a deep breath and then he sees it, just like you described it.

"I found them!" you hear him say enthusiastically "I'll be there soon"

"Good job! I'll be waiting for you, love" you coo.

He grabs the box and he goes to the checkout.

You hang up the phone wondering if he really has the ones you want but in any case you’re already grateful that he used his lunch break to bring them to you.

When he met you he was convinced he would be alone forever.

You had reopened his heart little by little, with patience, without pushing him to do or say what he wasn't ready for yet and he had rediscovered himself as a man capable of loving and in need of receiving it. He was grateful for this, he’s madly in love with you and wants to do everything he can to help you in every circumstance.

————————

Joel has quietly entered your room and find you asleep.

He sits on the bed trying not to wake you.

Your hair spread out on the pillow, your face relaxed, your mouth slightly agape and your hand hanging loosely next to your face… you are so beautiful he can’t believe it. He’s the luckiest man in the world and the least he can do is bring you the right damn box. He leave the bag on your nightstand, kisses you on the temple and goes to the kitchen to make some sandwiches.

You wake up after a couple of minutes and see the bag so you grab it to look inside.

Bingo.

Joel wasn’t wrong, they are exactly the ones you wanted. And you find your favorite chocolate bar in it too.

You hear him humming softly in the kitchen so you get up to go and congratulate your hero.

“Hey, gorgeous!” he says to you as soon as he sees you at the kitchen door. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” you say, stretching your arms. Luckily the painkiller you took worked.

“I’m happy to hear that. Go back to bed, I’ll bring you a sandwich in a bit” You move closer and wrap your arms around his waist, leaning against his back as he spreads mayo on the bread.

“You don’t have to do all this, but thank you” you whisper “I love you so much” His body is warm and welcoming, you bury your face in his plaid shirt inhaling his woody scent, so familiar and seductive.

Joel is like that, he had never been good with words, his love language is gestures. And he makes tons of them, constantly, small and big. He remembers which flowers you like best, he brings you Chinese food when you tell him you had a bad day, he watches your romantic comedies with you even if they bore him, he lets you choose the music in the car even if he's old school and you're belting out Billie Eilish and Chappell Roan these days, if something in the house broke, you find it repaired the next day without even asking.

“I love you too” he says, dropping the knife on the counter and placing his hands on yours, holding you close.

“You got the right ones, I'm proud of you” you tell him softly.

He turns to kiss you “Good, I’m glad I could help”

The tip of your tongue grazes his lips and you gently make your way into his mouth, moaning against him while he fills his hands with your ass squeezing it.

“Mmm baby, don't provoke me, I don't have much time left before coming back to work unfortunately"

“We can always have a quickie, they say orgasms help with cramps, you know” you say in a slightly pleading voice, looking at his big brown beautiful eyes through your eyelashes.

“Oh well then if it's for a good cause…” he replies huskily.

“And then you deserve a prize”

“I also got you some chocolate, did you see?”

“Oh yes” you say grabbing him by the shirt and dragging him into the bedroom “I saw it and I love it, but I crave something else sweet right now”

Joel chuckles as he follows you into your shared bedroom “such a dirty little thing you are”

[smutinlove]

hi! how are you? can I make a request? so ive been imagining in my head how would jason react to reader going to the wayne gala with him? (for being more especific after jason introduce reader to the batfamily reader gets invited by jason's family to go to the wayne gala)

how would the batfamily treat her? how does Jason behave on gala nights?? sorry for so many questions lol

thanks for reading this <3

y'all are FEEDING THE DEMON inside me. slay

-not proof-read. has punctuation mistakes (probably. maybe.. idk)

•after a few embarrassing encounters (for jason HAHA) with his family, you were formally invited to have dinner with them. and dinner turned into an invitation to the wayne gala. pretty big, huh?

•at first, you were hesitant... but jason said he wouldn't go without you and you did not want that. so you went with him.

•i mean, it was one thing being with him. but his arm wrapped around you waist while he introduced you to everyone, calling you his, "girlfriend."

•and whenever he called you his girlfriend, he blushed and smiled.

•i mean, usually jason would be one of those "macho, no feelings/emotions need to be shown" kind of men. but when he's with you, it's a whole new genre.

•he's so gentle with you. your dress got stuck? he'll buy you a new one. hungry during the gala? he'll make you sit down and give you a plate filled with food. (his siblings said that he's so chaotic during gala nights... not true.)

•and omg, speaking of his siblings, they are so protective over both of you. if you hurt him, count your days. if he hurt you, that's a different book in general.

•dick is like an older brother, except he is so sweet and genuine. he knows everything about everyone. tim is like the nerdy but really chaotic younger brother. he's super smart, but also on the brink of causing an alien invasion and murdering everyone in the galaxy. but he's just a goofy little boy <3

•steph is such a girl's girl. she's so friendly and sweet. she's an angel, i swear. cassandra cain doesn't talk much. but she isn't untoward or rude to you. she just doesn't talk a lot. but she has said a few nice words to you.

•damien... that little minx is formal. but once you break down his barriers, he is just another child and child soldier. you and him bonded over your love for animals. he even introduced you to alfred the cat.

•now, papa wayne, the man, the myth, the bat. bruce wayne. he was very friendly. holy shit, this man raised amazing children. he deserves the world. he is very sweet to you, always making sure you're comfortable. he's like a dad to you. (i wish he was my dad)

•alfred, the heart of the bat family. he's formal too sometimes. but he's really nice. he's helpful and witty. he knows everything about every member of the bat/wayne family. if you want to see jason in diapers or when he was in an awkward teenage phase, ask him. he has pics of EVERY batfam member.

•let's just say that jason was raised by amazing people. and those same people adore you with everything.

jason is my pookie bear. he's just a big cuddly teddy bear and i love him for that

[mercurycft]

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 - 𝐋.𝐖

## leah williamson/beth mead x teammate-(ex)reader !! MINIFIC

hi pookies!! i wrote this after watching love actually and I'm still fuming about the whole CD situation iykyk. this is roughly and loosely based on that scene, which is HEARTBREAKINGGGG. this kinda has a cringey ending but my little cringe heart loved it. thank you all for the love recently! i hope you're enjoying all the content. love always - RGx

1.8k words.

emotional. beth being the best best friend. talks of a break up. not proof read.

"you know we dont have to watch it, right?" beth spoke lowly and no louder than a whisper, breaking the silence that had stretched out between you both like a tightrope.

you allowed a small and meaningless smile to crack in the corner of your mouth for a beat as you took a sip of the tea in your hands, eyes still glued to the TV screen. only flicking to beth briefly and for less than a second - as if you were unable to bear the contact. "i know," you admitted. "i want to." you spoke with a fake conviction, leaning forward to lay your mug onto the coffee table.

you watched on in silence, heart hammering in your ears when leah finally came on screen. she looked good, and it pained you to realise. to realise that whilst you're at home, curled up on your sofa, she's out doing brilliant things. you watched as leah sat beside her piano teacher, who you recall fondly after spending many evenings in his company. leah's fingers danced over the piano keys, the camera zooming in to capture the intensity of her practice.

you tried to rid your mind of the hurt for a few minutes, attempting to squash them into microscopic parts of you. you could feel beth's eyes burning holes into the side of your head, but you didn't dare look away for even just a second. scared you would miss something important, or miss her on the screen.

you watched as she prepared for her performance and made her way towards the concert piano, you knew her well enough to tell how nervous she was - breathing uneasy and hands fidgety. the camera followed her every step, until she sat down and found her bearings. as the camera pulled out, you saw the full orchestra behind her, tuning their instruments. you watched on eagerly as the anticipation grew in the room, a storm of nerves brewing in the pit of your stomach.

there was a moment of silence from the tv, before you watched the conductor lift their arms and a chorus of instruments began to play - including leah. as they began to play, it was hard to ignore the hurt bubbling up and into your throat. as her keys fell in perfect unison with the accompanying music, it was like you had been transported back in time.

you can recall it as if it was yesterday - being back in her living room, watching her play it for the first time. she had looked up at you from her spot in front of the keyboard, eyes shy yet hopeful, asking if you liked it. "it's beautiful," you had said, not knowing then that it would become so much more.

leah's eyes remained on the keys as she played, her expression serene. her hair fell around her face like a curtain, obscuring her features slightly. the way it used to fall when you held her close, comforting her after a stressful lesson. it was a stark contrast to the sharpness of her posture now, the determination in her hands as they flew over the piano.

you felt the weight of the moment, the gravity of her talent. the sound of her playing filled the room, swelling like the crescendo of the symphony of your past. you could almost smell the scent of her shampoo, feel the warmth of her skin. your chest tightened and your eyes stung with unshed tears. but you didn't look away. you couldn't. because, as much as it hurt to admit, you were bursting with pride.

beth couldn't bring herself to speak, overly aware of the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. instead, she layed a hand gently and slowly onto the leg pressed close to hers. heaving a quiet sigh as she watched you break for the fifteenth time today.

as the final notes echoed through the speakers, you couldn't help but let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. leah's eyes finally lifted and she took in the applause, her face breaking into a smile that was so familiar and yet so foreign. your heart felt like it was in a vice, but you found yourself smiling back at her, even though she couldn't see you.

you felt beth's hand move to your shoulder, squeezing gently. "are you okay?" she asked. you nodded, not trusting your voice.

"yeah," you whispered back, "i'm okay." but you weren't. not really. you were just watching your past play out on live television, painfully reminded of what you could never get back.

the show continued, but you couldn't focus on anything else. the music had left a hollow space inside of you that only leah could fill. you looked at beth, her eyes filled with sympathy and something else. "you know it wasn't your fault, don't you?" she spoke softly.

"what?" you replied, trying to shake off the emotional fog that had enveloped you.

beth squeezed your shoulder again, "everything, i mean. she wasn't herself and she was angry at the world. she shouldn't have taken it out on you." her words stung to hear, but deep down you knew she was right. leah had always been driven, always been passionate about her career. it was one of the many things you loved about her. but seeing her up there, so poised and professional, compared to the person she was not even a month ago when things ended between you, was like watching a stranger.

you nodded, swiping at the tears that had escaped. "i know," you murmured. "but i can't help but feel like i just missed something. like i could've been there." beth didn't respond, she just held your hand, her thumb tracing circles on the back of it, offering silent comfort.

the applause from the audience on the telly grew louder as leah took her bow, her cheeks flushed with excitement. you felt a pang of jealousy, watching her revel in the moment, knowing that she has finally caught up with the feeling she had been chasing.

beth's grip on your hand tightened. "you know you can talk to me, right?" she said. her voice was gentle, like a soft summer breeze, trying to soothe the storm in your chest.

you nodded, "i know," you whispered. "but i don't know what to say. it's just…it's a lot." your voice cracked slightly, and you took a deep, shaky breath.

"it's alright to feel this way," beth assured you, her eyes never leaving yours. "you loved her, and she was a part of your life. it's natural to miss her when you see her doing something that makes her seem okay."

you tried to force back the tears that now are fighting for release, held back by nothing more than your waterline. it didn't take long until they began to litter your cheeks. "i miss her," you stammered through a small sob, collapsing into beth's chest as she stoked your back.

"i know." she whispered into your hair, gently rocking the pair of you back and fourth.

"she's still the one,"

[mintiicinnamonii]

Ok, so, idk if I missed the character limit so I'm sorry if it's too much, I also don't want to put any pressure on you either!

So! What if reader was half human half dragon? (I mean like, How to train your dragon kinda dragon)

Where they can either be human, half human/dragon (like, walking on their legs but being a bit taller than before, having scales instead of skin, wings and tail) and full dragon form (like toothless)

(I apologize if it's too complicated 😭)

Reader: gender neutral

Characters (romantic hc): Sun Wukong, Macaque and MK? (Maybe Mei Mei too if it's not pushing it)

Again, no pressure, and if it's too much I'll understand! Have a lovely day :D

Mei, MK, Wukong and Macaque with a dragon hybrid reader

(notes: MUAHAHAHAH YOU HAVE FED ME YOUNG ONE!! I didnt have much ideas but this was so fun!)

Mei

shes SOOO EXCITED

like?? a fellow dragon? a PRETTY ONE?!!

she asks if you breathe fire, and depending on your species you answer

you two go on joyrides in the sky <33

the second you transformed she was like 🫦

she is in AWE OF YOUUUU

she asks you so many questions about your species and you’re happy to answer them all

her fans think you’re a cosplayer 💀

she demands piggy back rides, and pulls your collar down to kiss you

”i love my tall partner”

she catches you hoarding gems and has a picture saved on her phone

her parents are like 🙌

you have asian parent approval congrats (im viet, so i should know)

—

MK

seductive monster x shy human real!!,

he was very intimidated at first, he thought you would eat him

but when you purr with your lil reptile noises hes SMITTEN

i hc that you pick him up and fly with him

hes happy he can relate to someone who can relate to having this animalistic side of their life

he blushes a lot. like.. you’re HELLA TALL and MK is probably short as hell so… add two and two together

you steal his stuff a lot and hoard it as treasure. he doesnt mind, as long as youre happy

you reach things on the top shelf for him. change my mind.

—

SWK

CUDDLE PILES!!!

you two fly in FFF together

SPIDERMAN/SKY KISSES BABYYYY

he thinks you look so graceful and pretty

you could kick his ass and he would say thank you

you spar with MK sometimes to help him and MK is FLABBERGASTED

imagine wukong getting into a stupid fight and you jsut swoop in and save him

he gives you as many treasures as possible for you to hoard

and when you’re in dragon form hes like 😳

mans thinking of situations. none of them are in the tripitaka/the buddhist bible

he tries to turn into a dragon, he cant do it

”sighhhhh i miss my tall pookie bear”

he leans on your shoulder

—

Macaque

he admires your strength, but not in the sense that Wukong does, more like respect and love

you go on nighttime flights together, its rlly relaxing

he pets you. fight me.

like dragon pookie = cat pookie

scratches, pets, distracting you with shiny things

you get rlly mad and then he just kisses you and youre like 😳

the only man that can calm you down

if you were dating before he joined the gang, POWER COUPLEEE

”hey babe ready to beat up wukongs student” “hold up lemme change firstttt”

he pulls you down with your collar to kiss you

hes still a massive flirt <33

i hc that you make little replite/cat sounds. the first time macaque heard them hes like “wait did you just”

he has teased you for it ever since

the dojo’s kinda small, so you have to duck to enter, and he literally CHANGED HIS DOOR so you can enter easily

[infictionalwonderland]

the big bad birthday — h.lewis

SUMMARY, it’s your birthday and amidst the wholesome birthday posts, everyone’s entertainment comes from the chaotic and completely drunk off your tits content!

liked by yourusername, gkbarry and 234,680 others

faithlouisak, to the girl of my dreams, my sugar plum baddie pookie boo bear, the big spoon to my little spoon, the sugar in my tea, the absolute fittest fucking person on this planet with the best tits ive ever seen (soz wroetoshaw). HAPPY BIRTHDAY OMG I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I CANNOT WAIT TO SPEND EVERY FUCKING BIRTHDAY WITH YOU UNTIL WERE BOTH CRIPPLED AND ROLLING ABOUT IN OUR WHEELCHAIRS IN ALL THE SKATE PARKS LIKE THE COOL KIDS WE ARE XOXOXOXO tagged—@yourusername

view all 23,506 comments yourusername FAITH STOP IT.

yourusername I LOVE YOU SO BLOODY MUCH MY HEART IS LITERALLY ACHING AND UGH YOURE JUST MY FAVOURITE PERSON EVER COME KISS ME

-> faithlouisak don’t have to feckin ask me twice sexy bum

-> behzingagram @wroetoshaw

-> yourusername YO YO YO FAITH UR BOYFS TRYING TO HATE CRIME US?????!!!?????

-> faithlouisak AHHH HOMOPHOBE

bambinobecky the cake is so true 😋😋😋😋😋😋

mrskelly THE PHOTOS OF THEM I CANNOT THEYRE ACTUALLY SO CUTE BRO! THEIR FRIENDSHIP MAKES ME SO HAPPY 💕💕

mummy_behz wishing the beautiful beautiful birthday girl all the best! 💐💐

-> yourusername thank you so much ruth 💝

liked by max_balegde,miniminter and 311,289 others

taliamar LADIES AND GENTLEMEN WILL YOU PLEASE STAND BC IT IS THE FUCKING BIRTHDAY OF MY LOVVERR! yn i love you so much i genuinely cannot put it into words (can put it into our songs tho xx) you’re the most amazing person that i have ever met, you make me laugh all the time, you keep a smile on my face always, your energy alone is enough to make me feel all bubbly and giddy inside. with you, i feel safe and happy and loved and i feel like im a little kid again and i can conquer the world. you’re truly the very epitome of perfection, lover 😉 tagged—@yourusername

view all 30,561 comments ksi bro harry’s birthday post better be outta this world 😭

-> tobjizzle honestly, he’s got hella competition

yourusername STOP IT TALIA YOURE SO CUTE AND I ADORE YOU WITH MY WHOLE HEART, YOU HAVE NO IDEA. YOU MAKE ME SO HAPPY AND YOU DESERVE THE ENTIRE WORLD BABY. MWAH!

-> taliamar stop i shouldn’t be crying it’s YOUR birthday

-> miniminter and she’s crying now. @wroetoshaw ?

-> wroetoshaw balling mate

gkbarry birthday lass looks so hot drenched in rain xxxx

-> yourusername eat me out 😘😘😘😘

-> gkbarry 🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

liked by zerkaa, taliamar and 211,597 others

freyanightingale YN YN YN! from the day that i met you i was amazed by you, by your beauty, your kindness, your wit and your literal intelligence - to this day, that amazement has only increased and i know that as i stay by your side until the day we both die in our cute little hospital gowns in our hospital beds with rooms next to each other, i will die still being amazed by you and your very being. i love you so much and you deserve the universe, and even more. HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU BEAUTIFUL SOUL 💕💕

p.s yes i am lying on her arse in the 8th slide it was a true life experience tagged—@yourusername

view all 16,993 comments zerkaa i feel cheated on

-> freyanightingale cry about it

-> taliamar literally no one cares

-> faithlouisak omg piss off u HOBO

-> tobjizzle flabbergasted.

yourusername FREYA!!!!!!! BRO IM ACTUALLY GONNA HAVE NO TEARS LEFT TO CRY, luv u ari, AFTER ALL THESE MESSAGES AND YOU BET YOUR FAT ASS WE’RE GONNA HAVE HOSPTIAL BEDS NEXT TO ONE ANOTHER???? WE CAN WEAR OUR MATCHING HARRY POTTER SOCK SETS AND GET MATCHING ACRYLICS XXX

-> freyanightingale you’re my favourite person ever xx

liked by yungfully, chunkz and 501,590 others

nellarosee happy birthday to the most stunning, happy, loving, genuine, funny & gorgeous gorgeous girl that i have ever known, you are truly one of a kind my girl! tagged—@yourusername

liked by georgeclarkeey, chloeburrows and 298,126 others

gkbarry dear sexiest bitch in the entirety of europe, wishing you the best birthday there ever was. we need more people like your fantastical self in the world, cheers for sticking around this long 😘😘😘😘😘

p.s come to mine later, wear ur red set 👅 tagged—@yourusername

liked by yourusername, tobjizzle and 58,330 others

r0sielewis happy birthday to the best girl i’ve ever known, the first genuine friend i have ever made and who i know will always be there for the rest of my life! happy birthday to my role model, my makeup artist, my hair stylist, my therapist, my personal stylist - happy birthday to my everything. i love you so much yn, i hope you know that! all of us lewis’ do (especially mum.. & harry ig) 🤍🤍 tagged—@yourusername

LATER. . .

tobjizzle has posted to their story!

[oh-meretseger]

part 4 - Tease

attack on titan modern college au // Jean Kirstein x fem!reader

summary: the sexual frustration between you gets to its peak when your first kiss happens (🥹), starting a game of brutal teasing on both sides

notes: 18+! although not so much of a smut (some public touching and groping, making out hehe), mainly fluff, some cute moments before posting some disgustingly dirty smut in the next chapter lmao

word count: 4,6k

"Sasha, stop calling me pookie bear or I'm going ballistic" Jean calmly blinked in her direction after setting the empty box of pad thai down. Sasha was already on her third portion, mercilessly stuffing her face full like she's been starving for a week.

"But you're my pookie bear, what do you mean?" Sasha's jaw stopped chewing, stunned for a moment by hearing such astonishing nonsense, as she stared back at Jean. She notoriously got addicted to every single silly nickname she made up for her friends, and used it uncontrollably until she discovered a new one.

Jean let out an exhausted sigh, but still leaned back on his bed with a chuckle as he shook his head.

"And what about me?" Connie complained loudly from the other bed with a mouth full of noodles. None of the three were giving any more fucks about the movie playing on Connie's notebook in the background.

"You're my pookie pie"

"Yeah, I like pie" Connie shrugged, giving his blessing as Sasha nodded diligently.

"I know"

"Yeah, but I'm not a bear, so how does that work?" Jean huffed, holding back a smile at how Sasha's expression instantly turned outraged, just like he guessed.

"You are!" Sasha snapped at him and Jean laughed out loud. "You're a big ass hairy animal, but still cute and huggable"

"Ah right, thanks" Jean's ironic tone did not faze her in the slightest.

"I'm deeply sorry bro, but I wouldn't say you're cute, at all" Connie's eyes were back on the movie, although his attention was fully on the brilliant, highly knowledgeable conversation in the background.

"Y/N thinks you are" Sasha shrugged carelessly while ruthlessly devouring her last bites of dinner, and Jean's heart started pounding in his chest all of a sudden.

He cleared his throat to avoid choking on his own saliva, and tried to reply just as casually as Sasha spit out this small little information.

"What do you mean?" Jean couldn't believe how flustered he became by simply hearing your name. He didn't like it. The hell is his heart beating so fast for?

"She has the biggest crush on you, don't tell me you didn't notice" Sasha giggled to herself at Jean's honest, dumb expression. She found you two idiots adorable, pretending you didn't absolutely have the hots for each other.

"The hell are you on? They're at each other's throats all the fucking time" Connie turned his head at hearing such nonsensical gibberish.

"I truly feel sorry for you men sometimes" Sasha blinked at two of the most imbecile faces she's ever seen. "Are you really that slow?! Why in tarnation do you think I left you two alone?"

Jean felt heat spread through his body as images of you popped up in his memory, your warm body against his, teeth sunk into his skin...

"They fucked?!" Connie yelled out in shock and Jean couldn't help cracking up at how serious he sounded.

"Not YET" Sasha looked at Connie with a nod of true wisdom as Jean huffed in disapproval. Although deep inside, a feeling of excitement started to make him tingle.

"Shut your silly mouth, Sasha" Jean snapped at her, holding back a smile trying to climb up on his face all the way from his heart. "You've been acting a fool since you started latching onto that canteen guy"

"My brother in Christ, you're in denial" Sasha gave up. She already knew you were bound to be together anyway. "And I've always been silly, Niccolo just brings out the best in me"

"I love that guy, he makes the best risottos" Connie agreed in his own way, still pretending to watch the movie.

"He cooks me his secret special meals" she added, her eyes literally sparkling with pure bliss as she said those words, and Jean rolled his eyes. "I'm bringing him to your party, Consuelo"

"That's literally not my name" Connie stated, not even moving his eyes from the screen in front of him.

"Okay, Conrad"

"I'm texting Marco to come" Jean grabbed his phone, verbalizing his actions as both Sasha and Connie turned their head in excitement.

"Yesss, I miss Marco!"

You were rather anxious about this party. Connie's parents lived close to the campus, and the group of people Connie invited over to their house sounded fun when Sasha listed them all to you in detail. But still, there was something unnerving about a night of careless fun, coming out of your little shell and letting yourself go in front of such new people, in front of Jean.

"C'mon, we're gonna have an amazing time!" Sasha encouraged you after seeing a small anxious frown form on your face.

"I know, it's always an amazing time with you guys" you smiled, your heart pounding hard at the thought of seeing Jean at the party. "But what should I wear?"

"POOKIE, let me help you with that" Sasha jumped up from your bed and shot straight to your closet, as you watched her with an entertained grin.

You walked down the hallway on the way to your afternoon class, Friday leaving a freeing bliss in your chest as you listened to your playlist. The always busy corridor was now almost empty, everyone having left the stress of weekdays behind to finally enjoy their free time. Anxiety turned into a small glimpse of excitement in your stomach the past few days, and you couldn't wait for it to be tomorrow night.

Your headphones suddenly flying off of your head jerked you out of being in your own thoughts, and before you could even react, a strong hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you into a narrow passageway with an overwhelming force.

Your body crashed into a much larger frame, and a familiar sense of warmth flowed through you as Jean's smell hit your nose before you could even get a look at your kidnapper.

"Hey! Give it back!" your hand shot towards his immediately, but of course with one movement of his arm your headphones were instantly removed far from your reach, as he held it up above his head. A grin grew on his face as he looked down at you, his other hand still squeezing your wrist, and once again, you felt your cheeks get warm under his intense stare. That stupid cocky grin of his...

"D'you think I should?" Jean's voice was smooth and low, enough to make your mind go hazy. You couldn't believe how fast it all could get too much. His intoxicating scent, the warmth of his body as he towered over you, his fingers' touch on your skin, his voice and beautiful hazel eyes melting you into a puddle...

You felt weak.

"Can you stop doing that? My arm is getting all bruised up from you pulling on it" you sneered up at him, not even trying to get further away as your bodies pressed into each other. Jean's eyes slipped down to your plump lips as you mockingly smirked. "And kidnapping me"

"Kidnapping you? You could definitely not move your little hands around like that, if I were to kidnap you" Jean's raised hand inched lower and lower to slowly put your headphones around your neck as your eyes desperately pierced into his. You felt yourself melt into him, his look deliberately making you go soft and mindless, as his delicious-looking lips were so dangerously close to you...

As Jean's other hand became free, it slid down on the sleeve of your hoodie to grab your other wrist. The hard grip of his hands restraining yours was enough to make you soaking wet.

And that strangely made your confidence bounce right back.

"Why are you stalking me anyway?" you stared into his eyes with a self-assured smile slightly curving your lips.

Jean felt blood rush right to his crotch at the devilish sparkle in your eyes, almost visibly turning dark as you looked up at him. What a naughty girl.

Although weakness was palpable in the air between both of you. You both knew you would fold the moment your hips pressed into each other just a tad bit more.

Jean's hands gripping your wrists moved them behind your back with a swift motion.

"Don't think so highly of yourself, Miss Important" he smiled and you felt yourself blushing again as his arms pulled your body more into his, cuffing your hands behind you. Being controlled by Jean's big arms felt... Heavenly. "You want me to stalk you, don't you?"

"Unlike yourself, I'm not a pervert, dumbass" you let the magic word slip from between your lips, and warmth filled your chest as Jean cracked up. You felt like you could stay in his embrace forever, looking at his handsome face and beautiful smile endlessly... If your pussy didn't ache from the tension of being restrained by his tall frame. "You're lucky you have such pretty eyes, otherwise I would be kneeling on your back right now"

Your obvious joke of physically overcoming him flew right over his head as your words of praise reached his ears - and a slight tint of pink immediately dusted his cheeks. From ear to ear.

You couldn't believe your eyes.

"Jean" your smile grew into the widest grin as the rarest species on planet Earth, flustered Jean hesitated momentarily, looking into your eyes. "Are you-"

You stopped your own words. Instantly wanting to tease him was like a natural instinct, but in a matter of moments, your urge to deepen that adorable blush on his face became overwhelming. You wanted him to know how much your lips desired his at that very moment. You wanted to make him feel good, you wanted to feel good.

Jean felt your body rise onto tiptoes under his arms as your heels parted from the ground and in a second, your face reached his, your lips connecting in a soft kiss.

You immediately melted at feeling each other's lips, sensitive nerves making your hungry minds explode with pleasure. Jean felt all tension leave your body, and let go of one of your wrists to catch you from collapsing. You literally felt your knees give out. Jean's arm felt so strong as it snaked around your waist, you barely audibly whimpered into the kiss - and Jean felt himself grow hard at the sweet sound.

"Mmph y- your lips feel so good" you mumbled against his soft lips and Jean was seeing stars. He never imagined your honeylike voice to be able to make him crumble even more in real life, than on the phone the other day. Your body so hot against his, the touch of your lips so plump and sweet on his, your scent making him feel like he was drunk out of his mind.

Jean let out a quiet moan as your tongue danced along his lower lip, then slipped into his mouth eagerly. Immediately after you granted access, his tongue answered, sliding against yours, and you felt warmth flooding your pussy at the wet sounds you two were making. Jean's one hand gripping your wrist, the other one slowly sliding on the side of your waist, finding its way under your hoodie, making contact with the sensitive skin close to your breast...

It all felt so filthy, you were turned on beyond belief.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Jean grunted quietly after your lips parted, looking into your big, pleading eyes, but you already missed their warmth, so you softly pressed your lips back to his.

“What?” you whispered against him, your eyelids low from the heavenly feeling, and you felt Jean’s lips curve into a smile.

“You make me want to rip this off of you, right here, right now” Jean pulled on the sleeve of your hoodie, then with that same motion he grabbed your hand, removing it from its comfortable place on the side of his neck. You quietly whimpered as you felt one of his large hands gripping both of your wrists behind your back, his now free hand starting to slowly roam over your clothes. “You seem like the type of bad girl that likes the danger of getting caught”

“And you seem like the type to talk big, but do nothing” you knew exactly how bratty you sounded trying to tease Jean, but you also knew he had complete control over you. Your words were snarky, but your eyes blinked up at him with desperation, cheeks flushed with arousal.

Jean let out a chuckle.

“Yeah, you’re right” he smiled, but a sinful light flashed in his hazel eyes. Oh, you’re in for it. His free hand skimmed down to the brim of your hoodie, lifting it to expose the jeans tight on your butt. You unintentionally let out a sigh as his fingers gripped into the fabric and he started groping your ass without any shame. “I wouldn’t have the balls to touch you like that”

You felt wetness soaking through your panties at his firm touch, his breath hot on your ear as he looked at his own hand’s movements over your shoulder.

“I wouldn’t dare to pull these down” the groping stopped as a long finger creeped under the waist of your jeans, sending chills up your spine as he lightly dragged his fingertip along your skin. “What would we do if someone caught you with pants around your knees, moaning like a whore?”

“Jean” you quietly whined his name, losing your mind as his palm slid up your waist, over that stupid hoodie preventing his skin from touching yours.

“Getting desperate, are we?” he spoke softly, his hand stopping right at the underwire of your bra. Jean’s fingers moved carefully around the curve of your clothed tits, earning another whimper from you as you felt your pussy clench around nothing. “How outrageous would it be to grope your naked tits…”

You wanted him to grab them, feel the soft tissue with his hand, but Jean’s thumb just gently brushed over your nipple getting hard under the multiple layers of clothes.

“Or to take them into my mouth… Suck on them” Jean felt like all the blood in his body rushed to his groin as he pressed his thumb into the plush of your breast. Feeling you against himself, watching your eyes close in pleasure and your pretty swollen lips form an O made it extremely painful to hold his composure. Your flushed cheeks made him want to press you against the wall and do exactly what he just described. “A coward like me wouldn’t wanna get caught licking you, fingers buried in your wet little hole”

Jean felt his hard cock twitch in his pants as you pressed your hips even harder into him, desperate to feel his growing erection. His hand slid onto your delicate neck, fingers gently pushing into the sides.

“Holy-“ you mumbled, your head falling back as Jean leaned closer, his scruff scratching the sensitive skin as he earned access to your neck. His lips grazed over your skin, sending tingles down your body, and he deeply inhaled your sweet scent...

Then everything got cruelly ripped away from you in a matter of seconds.

“See ya tomorrow, smartass” you heard Jean’s voice and your eyes shot open, only to be met with his self-assured, cocky grin. He let go of your wrists and your neck, hands sliding into the pockets of his denim jacket while he stepped back, depriving you of the blissful heat of his body.

Jean felt so satisfied, so pleased with himself. You stood there for a moment, left utterly confused, your big eyes still eager, blinking towards him, swollen lips parted as if you wanted to say something, but the feeling of surprise made you catch your breath. You were so adorable, he had to hold back a chuckle.

He liked how confident sexual tension seemed to make you, but he just couldn’t help himself teasing you, making you go weak under his control.

“Je-“ a fragile little sound tried to break through the shock gripping your throat, but Jean’s reply cut you off as he turned his back to you, simply walking away.

“Tomorrow!”

You just stood there, astounded, your heart still racing, warmth filling your cheeks and panties damp from your wetness. Jean’s grip still burned the skin on your wrists and neck like a phantom. Your mind was so confused, you couldn’t even be mad at the man arrongantly strolling away from you like this was the most entertaining walk of his life.

And you completely forgot about the afternoon class you were originally headed to.

Frustration quickly turned into confidence as you stood in front of the mirror in your dorm after your little ice cream date with Sasha, getting ready for the party. It was a rare occasion, so you let your hair down, to Sasha’s biggest delight.

"You look sooo good, dear lord!" she exclaimed with an enthusiastic smile, encouraging you to do a little spin and she howled like a wolf.

"C'mon, it's not that special" you laughed at her excessive reaction. "But you do look breathtaking in that dress, emerald suits you"

"You think so?" Sasha looked down at herself, hands soothing the thin fabric. It was quite short, sleeves off the shoulders, showing off her delicate, pale skin. She truly looked beautiful.

"Niccolo's gonna pee his pants seeing you" you nodded and Sasha cracked up.

"He better pee his pants" she slipped her arms into her bolero. "And Jean better jizz his pants, to be honest"

"Sasha!" you chuckled as you shook your head, trying to shake off the thought of Jean orgasming, in any way, before your blushing could give any awkward feelings away. Sasha jumped to you and leaned over to pull your dress in all the right places to make it look even better. It was black and tight, its length ending right above your knees, but a longer slit letting one of your thighs be seen.

"What? You're a goddess, you better start believing that" Sasha threw her oversized leather jacket on your shoulders. "C'mon, grab your phone, let's go"

Connie's parents must be delighted to let a bunch of kids trash their house, you thought, as Sasha closed the door of your Uber and caught up to you waiting on the pavement. It seemed like a nice and quiet neighborhood, now muffled thuds breaking the silence of the street as you heard the bass of the music coming from inside.

"Bruh, Cornelius told me he invited twenty people at max" Sasha noted as you walked past a few unfamiliar faces sitting on the stairs of the front porch, drinking and cackling loudly. She swung the front door open like she owned the place, and the brutal noise hit you in your chest.

"Who the hell is Cornelius?" you asked with an amused laugh, but Sasha couldn't hear you anymore, the sound of loud music, people shouting, laughing and just generally being intoxicated deafening both of you. Sasha grabbed your hand, pulling you through the crowd.

Bumping into a bunch of strangers in a dimly lit room and loud noise overwhelming your senses was not how you imagined Connie's "friendly get together" to go.

"There he is" Sasha let go of your hand as you reached the kitchen, the lights brighter and the noise slightly less disturbing than in the crowded living room. You leaned against the doorframe where Sasha left you as you watched Sasha punch Connie's arm without a word being spoken between them.

"AARGH, are you out of your mind?" Connie jumped back from the open fridge in shock, his hand shooting towards the painful shoulder.

"You told me it was gonna be a small party! How are we supposed to order pizza for so many people?" Sasha yelled at him, absolutely infuriated about the food situation.

Non-existant food situation, may we add.

"Why should we order pizza for everyone?! I don't even know them, who cares?" Connie yelled back at her, grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge. "Did you come over to ask brainless questions, or will you let me have a fucking break?"

"Hi Y/n!" you suddenly heard your name from behind and your head snapped towards the familiar voice. You were met with Berthold's smile and his usual peaceful expression, not even minding Sasha and Connie killing each other in the background.

"Hi Bert" you smiled back, happy to see him. You rarely got to talk to him at the one single class you had together. "How are you?"

"Uh, good thanks, barely holding on inside this hell of a house" he replied and you chuckled, perfectly understanding his struggle with crowded, loud places.

"You're telling me! I feel like exploding and we just arrived" you shook your head. "Where's Annie?"

"We're sitting outside on the patio, you should join us. It's a lot more quiet out there" he suggested as a large hand slapped on his shoulder. You looked up at the tall man appearing next to Bert, broad shoulders towering over you, fingers running through his blonde hair, bright eyes and a charming smile glistening towards you. "This is my friend, Reiner, by the way. I don't think you've met"

"Nice to meet you, Reiner" you nodded with a friendly smile and he accepted your hand reaching towards him, shaking it gently.

"The pleasure's mine, Y/n" Reiner softly returned your smile, and you started to feel flustered at the intense eye contact. "How come I've never seen you around campus?"

"She's pretty lame, looks like a grey little mouse most of the time" an unmistakable voice appeared next to you, and you turned to Jean sticking out your  tongue in an instant. Bert rolled his eyes with a laugh and went over to the fridge, probably getting the drinks he originally came there for.

"Who asked the blockhead?" you snapped back as Jean stopped close to you, one arm pressing to yours, grinning down at you.

Your heart secretly started racing just by seeing him.

"Dunno man, looks like a gorgeous mouse to me" Reiner said winking at you, then turned and went to join Bert pondering in front of the open fridge. Warmth spread on your face as you watched Reiner grab a beer, and you deliberately avoided looking at Jean. "You want one, Jeanbo?"

"Nah, I'm good, thanks" Jean replied casually, but clenched his teeth as he looked down at your face, blushed from his compliment. The hell are you blushing for? Is this buff jock what you're into? Reiner, really?

Jean's jaw relaxed at the thought of how you'd probably clown him for being jealous. Jealous, good lord... It was like you sensed his eyes stuck on you, you raised your face to look at him with those big, sparkling eyes.

How could he not be jealous?

"Big man's not wrong" Jean said softly, so only you could hear, his eyes glancing over your outfit, then back to your face, and you felt your cheeks burn under his look. "You look beautiful"

Your heart fluttered at his words and you couldn't help the smile instantly widening on your face. You turned your whole body towards Jean and felt your stomach flip at how his hazel eyes glistened right back at you with a warm smile.

"You look pretty handsome yourself" you grinned, moving to hold both of his hands. Jean's heart fluttered to the same rhythm yours did as the sight of your pretty smile and the touch of your fingers combined started to make him melt. "This shirt looks so good on you"

Your fingers ran along the collar of his dark button-up shirt, the fabric soft, comfy and smelling of his delicious scent.

"Don't try to make me blush, you little rat" he grunted with a low voice, making you laugh out loud, and he lifted his hands to grab both sides of your face, long fingers reaching into your hair at the nape of your neck. Tingles ran down your spine as your arms moved automatically to hug his waist as he stood so close to you. "Where are your glasses, smartass?"

"I'm wearing contacts" you blinked up at him as he stroked a few strands of your hair to tug them behind your ears.

Your stomach doing a backflip once again.

"I like the glasses" he brushed his thumb over your cheek, then looked back to your eyes, making your body burn with the familiar sense of warmth. "But you look pretty regardless"

You swallowed your reply as Jean's eyes shot to your lips. So plump and invitingly glistening with gloss. He wanted to kiss you so much.

"I like the earrings, too" Jean swiftly shifted his eyes to the little silver figures dangling from your ears. He  thought they wonderfully emphasized your delicate little neck.

"Thanks, they're ladybugs" you grinned and Jean chuckled.

"Are they your little magical ladybugs? I knew you were a witch" he watched with a smirk as you bursted into laughing. He also noticed the shimmery eyeshadow on your eyelids, and how the makeup and your jewellery complimented your look so well. Although he knew exactly how gorgeous you were without them.

"You're very attentive tonight, Jeanbo" you sneered at him and Jean rolled his eyes at your smug smile. He hated that nickname.

"He's my teammate, your ass is not allowed to use that name"

"Will I be allowed if I start beating you with a stick as well?" your smile widened at making Jean crack up.

"The hell do you think we do while playing hockey?" he laughed, one of his hands moving to grab your chin. "It's not just beating each other with sticks, believe it or not"

"Sure" you borderline didn't even know what you were talking about. Not even having a sip of alcohol yet, you smiled up at Jean drunkenly, intoxicated by how good he felt to all of your senses at that moment.

Sasha's loud sounds of excitement snapped you both out of your own little world.

"WHAT, they're filled with cherry cream?!" she covered her mouth with a hand, in a state of complete shock as Niccolo held out a tray of cupcakes in front of her.

Niccolo nodded with an enthusiastic smile in your direction, and you waved at him with an amused chuckle as Jean let go of you and walked over to them. You've already met Niccolo countless times, but you could never get enough of their emotion-filled interactions with Sasha - strong emotions about food, mostly.

"Hey!" Connie yelped as Sasha slapped his hand trying to steal from the dessert. "This is my house, give me a cupcake!"

"It's your father's house, Constance" Sasha stated seriously, and you bursted out laughing as Connie's low-lidded stare met your eyes. He was so tired of the names.

"Are you pulling these names out of your ass?"

"I'm pulling the cupcake out of your ass, if you dare to steal any of- HEY!" Sasha practically jumped on Connie's back as he rapidly grabbed one of them from the tray, trying to get away and stuff it into his mouth before Sasha could stop him.

A few people, unfamiliar with this otherwise very usual situation, quickly left the kitchen before they found themselves in the middle of a physical altercation, and you and Jean were in absolute hysterics.

"Eat it then, you fucking piece of pie!" Sasha shouted at Connie, still riding on his back, smearing the cherry cupcake around his face with her palm.

"Uh- Yo-" Connie's desperate attempts of yells were muffled as Niccolo tried to pull Sasha from him with no success. "Y'suff- You'll suffocate me!"

"Ah, feels like I never left town" a voice laughed loudly next to you, and you raised your teary eyes to look at the stranger. The tall, brunette man stepped straight to Jean, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he snatched his head in his direction.

"MARCO!"

[bucknastysbabe]

Hi I got an ask about subby Criston and I’m here to fill it but I accidentally deleted the ask itself. So I hope you see this😭😭I kinda went cuckoo bonkers word to Wyn but anyways! Pookie bear cries and nuts like 40 times🧸🧸

Knock ‘em out - C.Cole

Rating: Explicit

WC: 3k

Tags: Boxer!Criston, Manager!Reader, Criss priss prob needed to be in an institution but now gets paid for beating ass, a little bit of manipulation from reader, marathon sex, overstimulation, sub space, soft domme, 🚨CRISTON BIG ASS PRAISE KINK🚨, he’s puppy your honor, Dom/sub, sub drop, aftercare, pnv!sex, multiple orgasms, intercrural sex, cumming in pants, lil bit of background story but mainly P O R N

Taglist: @aemonds-holy-milk @arcielee @sugarpoppss2 @lovelykhaleesiii @starogeorgina @moncherrii @bambitas @targaryenbarbie @fairysluna @thought--bubble @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @gemini-mama @valeskafics

Thanks @tumblin-theworldaway for helping my mind crank up heheheheeh

Criston knew he was off— something never wired right in his brain. Most people would interview him and see the rags-to-riches story. He came from trash, really, his dad was the janitor at the big boxing gym in the city. Coach Dondarrion told people they let Criston train for free as his father worked so tirelessly.

In reality, he couldn’t stop getting into fights at school. It was unchecked anger growing out of control. Criston’s mother and father begged Dondarrion to take him on and help channel that aggression. It likely saved his life. He was only 10 and beating kids’ faces in over slights— imagined or real. He was horribly possessive, jealous, and lost. Boxing seemed to put a lid on that.

Occasionally he’d have to be ripped off an opponent. Whispers of Criston Cole being a psycho were rampant. He was twenty-three when he got his current manager. She worked miracles. His everything— Criston loved the woman so much that sometimes it hurt his head, thoughts too intense to siphon through.

He’d known her from the Blackhaven gym, she was a daughter of Coach Swann and knew the realm of boxing pretty well. Coach Dondarrion brought her into the picture when Criston almost killed a man in the ring.

She didn’t bat an eye when Criston snarled and tried to intimidate her— only cocking her head and snorting like he was an unruly animal. He’ll never forget the words she said after. It was a shift for the boxer.

“Do that again and you won’t fight this week. I’m in charge now. You’re my prize pet. If you want to keep being a prize pet then you’ll listen to me,” she stated, manicured nail poking his chest.

The bigger man still had no clue what came over him, but her words were like a balm. This was what Criston needed— firm orders and guidance. He hoped at the time she could help him with all the mess in his head. Criston nodded and replied, “Yes ma’am.”

“Good boy. Let’s come up with some rules. You like rules don’t you?”

No unnecessary jabs, no yelling, work on riding the bike and going through footwork, and no cumming until he had won.

Those were the rules before a fight. Criston abided by them religiously. Even if he was like a caged animal towards the lead-up to the big event. He would feel himself grow more and more agitated— actively restraining from ripping his opponent's jaw off. Cole probably looked psycho, with dark eyes intense, jaw clenching. But his expression remained eerily placid. His manager liked that and said she could smell the fear off the other guy.

Criston remained undefeated, she must be right he thought. Coach Dondarrion said Swann was a goddamn genius. She was perfect like that. He hated she wouldn’t go public with their relationship, Criston would wind himself up into an obsessive tizzy over it.

But when he won again, and again, she was there to take care of him. They’d get through the usual press, Criston would shower, and they’d ride back to the hotel together. The air was charged in the back seat. She’d slapped his wandering hands away the first couple of times.

Now he knew to stay put and she’d tend to his face or scratch his hair, careful of any knots and bruising. It felt so fucking good the first time she touched him, he had cum in his sweats before even reaching the hotel. Whining and writhing as she cooed and put ice on his black eye or taped a busted nose— he couldn’t remember exactly.

His manager had cooed in surprise when he seized up and gasped, wetting the inside of his briefs, “Oh, baby? You came? Needed that, didn’t you? Criston Cole, my prized pet, big bad man, didn’t know you liked being loved on. You deserve it, baby, I’m here for you, always.”

Her words had simultaneously embarrassed and made Criston want to kneel at her feet, awaiting her next command. He remained quiet, cheeks flushing heavily, worried internally his nose would start bleeding. Swann curled at his side and stroked his messy curls.

“Don’t be ashamed, you deserve to feel good. ‘Sides I know you have more to go, gotta be pretty full from going a week. You want me to take care of that, empty you out?”

Criston gritted his teeth and whined. He wanted it so bad. The demon in his head teased and prodded him, spitting lies. “She thinks you’re a weak little bitch, you really gonna spread your legs and bare your neck like a slut?” the voice said. He moaned softly, pained from the dissonance.

His manager whispered gently, a small hand rubbing soothing circles on his chest.

“Criston, baby, stop thinking so much, and let me do it for you.”

He melted into her warm embrace, the proposition flicking on a switch he didn’t know existed. She smiled as he slurred out a ‘yes’ and went lax under her palms. Criston didn’t know at the time— that submitting completely to another made his mind stop for a bit.

He was euphoric, eyes focused on her as they entered the hotel. She waved off any reporters and led him by the hand. Criston clung to her like a needy child in the elevator, his cock swelled up again. The manager let him rut a bit on her tight skirt and giggled at his desperation.

When they finally, finally gotten to the room— she stripped Criston down and made him cum until he cried, all the adrenaline sapped out of his body. He lost count of how many times her mouth and hand brought him to completion. He got to float in his head, tongue too thick and limbs too heavy to do anything but whine and be coddled.

Criston woke up later as a new man. He felt he could breathe. Then the games began as his record kept going up, Cole escalating to the fucking top. He didn’t know what to do with all the money except buy his family a house and Swann anything she desired.

He’d won again. Shaking his fist and snarling obscenities at Strong on the ground. He’d get another fuck-ton of money and go home happy. He’d picked up the belt and grinned, elated at his thirtieth win. On the top of the world.

Criston’s mind began to whirl as he stalked down the hallway. He briskly showered and answered a couple of questions to the press. She waited to the side, sinful red lips curled upwards. Swann was wearing the red bottoms he bought her, pretty legs shown off in her little dress and blazer.

When she nodded toward the exit he followed, agitated at the annoying reporter still asking questions. Criston didn’t want to upset her, so he kept his mouth shut and followed along, pulling his hoodie up. His balls fucking throbbed. He wanted to fuck his angel so bad, maybe she’d let him on a special occasion like this.

He got into the dark luxury vehicle, inhaling her sweet scent. Criston was close to getting feral, mouth watering at the possibilities. Still, he remained mute. Until she shifted, facing him in the dark, eyes full of affection. Criston couldn’t help the thin whine that burst from his chest at her attention.

“Look’it you. Took down Breakbones, got thirty wins, fucking hell baby,” she drew closer to him, “Criston Cole, you’re the real deal! You wanna fuck me, baby boy? I think you’ve earned it.”

“Pleaseplease, yes, fucking yes,” he pled.

A stagnant pause fell over the back of the car.

“Thank you,” he moaned, “Thank you.”

“Good boy, don’t forget your manners.”

She placed a warm hand high on his thigh, massaging the sore muscle. Her other palm caressed Criston’s patched-up cheek. She hummed “A kiss?” He nodded eagerly, vibrating in place, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. But Criston knew he had to be her good boy.

The woman softly pecked his lips, pulling back to watch Criston chase with a sad noise. She smiled and kissed him again, deeper this time. He eagerly opened his mouth for her, shivering as her nimble tongue playfully lapped at his own. Criston’s hands balled up in his sweats— no touching, no touching unless given permission.

Their lips wetly smacked in the dark car, her hand moving up to rub maddeningly at his straining cock. Criston cried out into her mouth, hips bucking helplessly. She laughed and nibbled on his shapely lower lip, hand squeezing his manhood.

“S’all mine isn’t it? My cock, just for me.”

He nodded in misery, his body wanted to let go, but it was a bit of a process to get Criston in the headspace he wanted. She knew how to get him there. Like her lips against his ear, tits pressed against his chest as she purred, “Easy love, relax, I’ve got you honey.”

“Mmm- gods, need it,” he gritted out, dark eyes lolling.

As her firm hand jerked him over the sweats, Criston’s manager nipped and kissed at his clean-shaven cheeks and neck. She whispered, “Sweet boy, I know you are s’hard, relax, relax, you’re gonna get to cum all night baby. As much as you want, just gotta let go okay?”

She praised and played with him some more, Criston began to pant hoarsely, thighs shaking as he neared the precipice. She tutted when the car stopped, “Get yourself together baby, we’re here now.” He blinked, a tear falling down his cheek, bewildered by the way she left him.

He was so fucking close! The boxer sulked and groaned at his denied orgasm, eyes watery from how intense his balls were throbbing now. He wiped his eyes and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up again, keeping his head low. He hoped the half-assed tucking of his hard-on worked.

They walked in sync to the elevators. He sulked, “M’so hard it hurts.” Criston’s girl pouted her lips, patting his cheek, “I know, I know sweet boy, but we can’t keep the driver waiting. Almost there, don’t be so needy.”

Criston wrapped his arms around her waist, tucking his face into her neck. He would be good, he wouldn’t hump or bite. He merely wanted to hold her for a second before the elevator dinged. Swann hummed and nuzzled back into his hair.

Onward they went, Criston’s mind growing fuzzier and fuzzier as his body thrummed with need. Upon entering the penthouse suite— her entire demeanor changed. She snapped, “Go get undressed and kneel for me by the bed.”

He nodded in little jerks, undressing and folding them neatly, just how his mistress liked. Criston shuddered as the cool air hit his cock, swallowing heavily as he knelt before the foot of the bed. His hands shook with need, his adrenaline still thrashing and pumping underneath the skin.

He was downright panting by the time she came out of the bathroom, naked as he was. Criston bit on his lip, eyes watering again. The angel laughed, “You sure are worked up tonight.” She padded behind Criston, winding a hand into his hair, eliciting another agonized noise from the boxer.

“You are so damn talented, the Warrior smiles on you. I’m proud.”

“Thank you, thank you ma'am,” he whispered.

“I’m going to get on the bed and you’re going to fuck all that energy and cum out okay?”

“Yes ma’am- ohmygods.”

Criston’s brows pulled together as she laid before him, legs crooked and spread, her cunt shining with slick. He growled, digging his nails into the skin of his thigh. She crooked her fingers playfully, “C’mon baby, you’re allowed to touch. Use me, my special pet earned it.”

He almost felt bad in the way he roughly had pulled her ass flush to his hips, the flesh smacking loudly. Criston had eagerly gotten on his knees in the center of the soft bed, slotting his swollen cock against her slick pussy. “F-fuck, fuck, gonna use you baby, ’m sorry,” he gritted out. She smiled and shrugged, moaning as he rutted against her a couple more times.

Criston’s dark eyes rolled up as he entered her velvet cunt, warm and sososo tight. He snarled as he snapped his hips into his baby. She was crying out and digging sharp nails into his shoulders. Cole knew he was lost in the feeling, rasping and groaning possessive, ugly things he would never say out loud.

But when legs were wrapped around his waist and she was mewling his name? Criston had lost his firm barriers. He rumbled into her ear between kisses and bites, “My godsdamn pussy, mine, you’re mine, I’ll f-fucking kill anyone who touches you, looks at you, gods I’ll do anything!”

He groaned, balls drawing up quicker than expected. She was crying out “Yes! yes! All yours!” Criston sucked in a wet breath at her neck, hips driving into her at a breakneck pace, hands bruising her pretty skin. He choked on his drool, unable to warn her— Criston’s orgasm was that intense.

She tightened around him when his cock flooded, absolutely flooded her pussy. Criston moaned and clenched his jaw, fucking through the oversensitivity. His girl dug her heels into his ass to spur him on. The boxer swallowed down a little mewl. Everything was still so swollen, he had to keep fucking, keep cumming.

“Mmm, yes! Don’t stop baby, oh Criston!”

“I-I am, fuuuck, g’nna fill you up again!"

He drove his hips upward, lifting her hips so that Criston could get at her g-spot. She raked a bloody mark across his back, gasping in delight. He rambled while thumbing desperately at her clit, “Yeah, yeah, feel s’good, cum on me baby, need to feel you, m’close again!”

Criston wasn’t sure if it was her gorgeous wail or her pussy gushing on his cock or both but he came again. She chose to mouth at his lips, shaky legs clenching around him, hand pulling the hair at the nape of his neck. Meanwhile, he whined Swann’s name, the quickness of his second orgasm turning Criston’s brain into jello.

The slick noises between them were loud and sloppy, he was stuttering and whining. She threw her pretty head back and moaned. Criston was finding words hard. He kept fucking and fucking. She felt too good and he had so much cum for her.

“That’s it, keep it up,” she grunted.

Criston slurred, “Ca-can’t stop, can’t, can't!”

He felt his eyes grow wet as his overstimulated cock was gripped and milked by her cunt. The angel, his angel, wrapped her arms around his sweaty neck, his hips forcing little 'uhs' out of her plush lips. Criston blabbered uselessly, words bordering on sobs now. It felt too good, the pain and pleasure were ecstasy to him. He bottomed out inside her, stopping to mewl long and high before returning to feverishly thrusting again.

“Oh, oh, angel- hurts- s’good ohmygods your pussy, gotta cum again, m’sorry m’so sorry!”

She nuzzled at his jaw, moaning, “It’s okay, doing so good for me, needy baby. You needed this, poor baby’s balls are so full.”

“S’full,” he agreed, mindless and shivering.

Criston’s thighs began to twitch as he felt another wave cresting. He practically wailed as the third peak licked up his spine— white hot and mean. She gasped, nails digging into his flanks, pussy pulsing around another load of Criston’s molten cum.

He was a mess, wordless and drooling. Criston began to move again, gaze unfocused and mouth agape. He whimpered, all overstimulated and still fucking frantic. Criston felt like he’d die if he didn’t stop, tears pouring down his flushed cheeks.

Her hands held his face now, her lips saying something. Criston slowly cocked his head, attempting to understand his manager’s words. She said it again, this time louder with a smack to his cheek. Criston stopped his movements, protesting with a weak noise.

“Babydoll, you gotta fuck my thighs, I'm starting to hurt. I’m going to turn over, okay precious? Got that?”

His lips trembled— Criston didn’t want to do that. He wanted her pussy. He slid out anyway, a torrent of white spend flooding out of her well-used entrance, seeping onto the bed. She marveled "Oh Criston, you still have anything left?" The woman hissed under her breath as she flipped onto her stomach. She tucked a pillow under her hips, giving him access to her thighs, slicked with their release.

Criston stared— unsure how to proceed. His cock was so flushed it purpled, aching horribly. He whined, frustrated with his stupidity, the man just wanted familiar tightness again. She sighed and reached back, ushering his knees and thighs to cage her legs in, forcing Criston forward.

He gasped in delight when his cock slid between her soft thighs, warm and wet. His depleted brain decided this would do. Criston’s thrusts were jerky and uncoordinated, he was growing too sensitive to go on much further. He kept at it, crying and sniffling like a babe.

“Awe baby, you’re hurting huh?”

“Mhm!” he replied, scrunching his face up tight. He had to cum one more time, he had to! Even if it was excruciating, the pleasure ramped up into nerves prickling all over his worn body. She watched him with lidded eyes, lips in a smirk. Criston exhaled again, throwing his head back to sob.

“Gotta- I gotta,” he mewled.

“I know sweetheart, so close, let it all out, you’ll feel so much better. You’re so pretty like this— all fucked out and still want more. Knocked your whore brain sideways. My cute slutty puppy, I love youuu.”

Criston folded under the praise, his body contracting once more, stomach cramping as he devolved into cries. His abused cock managed to dribble one little last bit. He couldn’t stop crying, falling back onto his haunches. Swann guided him down to shush and pet his hair. She murmured, "You're okay, all done now, I'm here, not going anywhere. Just breathe."

Criston’s muscles were all loose but the adrenaline had been sapped quickly. He was gutted— in a good way. Just couldn’t help the reaction, he knew it would happen after an intense romp like this. His baby curled into his heaving side, laying feathery kisses on his jaw, a relaxing hand at his diaphragm.

“That’s it, let it out, poor baby. Couldn’t help yourself hm?”

Criston nodded through the incessant tears, his shaky hand threading through her hair. He rasped, “I love you so much. You’re perfect.” He was growing more sleepy, settled by her kisses and glowing smile. He could float easy and enjoy the win, curled up with his lifesaver. Well, after she got him water and wiped down the mess. He realized with a smile— she had laid a towel underneath them.

She’d have to help him function tomorrow, Criston knew he’d be scrambled eggs, sore, and a bit grumpy. But that’s why they kept a suite for three days. After the kick off he would rest up and replenish. They would fuck sensually, cuddle, and watch a in some order of that fashion.

His addled mind conjured up a big diamond ring he’d buy for her.

[sh4wty18]

makeup.

pairing: johnnie guilbert x reader

summary: you and johnnie are dating and decide to film a video of you doing his makeup

cw: fluff, language, suggestive but nothing major

word count: 1.5k + edited

---

“Hey guys! So today I’m here with…”

“Y/N!” you finish, slightly nervous as it’s your first time streaming alone with Johnnie.

Johnnie giggles a little, sensing your nerves. He gently squeezes your thigh under the desk, out of sight of the viewers, letting you know he’s here for you. You grip his hand in return and squeeze, and he grins in response, stating matter-of-factly,  “Yes! And this is her first time streaming with me! She’s gonna do great, guys. She’s a hundred times cooler than me as it is.” he gazes into your eyes while he says this, providing you with the comfort you need to get over your fear. 

The thought of thousands of people judging your every move is daunting, but you know Johnnie just wants this to be a fun experience for both of you. Plus, his fans have been wanting to see you guys interact on screen for a while now. The edits of you guys together are really cute to be fair, it’s just the sudden fame that comes with dating an internet celebrity has been… a lot. Luckily for the most part, Johnnie’s fans have accepted you with open arms, and they seem genuinely happy to see him finally in a healthy relationship. 

“So today…” Johnnie starts, “Y/N and I thought it would be fun for her to do my makeup, you know, since we have such different styles and stuff.”

“Wow… that description was… enlightening” you respond fake-sarcastically, which elicits an equally fake-sarcastic eye roll from Johnnie. 

“Alright let’s just get into the makeup then if my girlfriend is gonna start bullying me now…” he trails off, as you begin to laugh and grip his arm, and soon he’s unable to contain his own giggling. Even though you both share a jokingly-sarcastic sense of humor with each other, neither of you can ever get through a bit with a straight face. One of you always ends up dying of laughter and the other can’t stop from joining. Johnnie never laughed this much with anyone– other than maybe Jake. But once you guys started dating a few months ago, Johnnie’s been all smiles. 

“Okay, okay!” you say, catching your breath. “So like Johnnie said, our styles are super different. He’s emo and I’m kinda just doing whatever I like at the time. So I figured I would do my typical going-out makeup look for him today.” 

“I’m terrified.” he responds, “I’ve seen your going out looks… There's a lot of glitter involved. I mean you look hot but…”

“Oh you’ll be fine.” you snarkily reply, “You always look hot anyway, this’ll just… amplify your beauty!” 

He laughs, “Okay… I guess I trust you, girlfriend.” Johnnie has made a habit of calling you girlfriend as much as possible. It started as a joke between you guys– pet names that is. You would call each other pookie and boo bear and stuff like that over text and in instagram comments, eliciting hilarious responses from your fans, who had fun trying to figure out if you were being serious or not. Then one day, he called you girlfriend while greeting you in one of his videos with Jake, and you called him boyfriend in response. Ever since then, you’ve been unironically using those titles for each other. You both know it’s corny, but you don’t care. You’re too in love to care. Neither of you have ever felt this deep of a connection with anyone you’ve dated. Nothing about it can be “cringe” because you’re both too happy with each other to mind. 

“Um.. I would hope so, boyfriend.” You roll your eyes at him and he tilts your chin towards his face and kisses you. “Enough PDA, we have work to do!” you back away as he tries to go in for another kiss, “At least let me get started,” you smile back at him, cheekily. 

“Guys did you see that? She swerved me. What the fuck? This is so unfair. My girlfriend hates me.” The chat goes crazy, most people going along with the bit and saying stuff like “how dare you y/n😔” and “nooooo she gagged him lmao💀” 

“Needy, needy man” you grip his chin and peck him, “There, happy now?” 

“Yes… we can start the makeup now” he grins fake-maniacally. 

“Okay, I don’t use primer so we’re just gonna jump right in with concealer…”

—

“Stop, stopppp that’s enough!!!” Johnnie pleads in his raspy vocal-fry shout you’ve heard so many times before in his videos with Jake. 

“We’re almost done, you’re such a fucking baby” You laugh as he blinks down on the mascara wand for what feels like the hundredth time. “Okay now all we have left is lip gloss. But I figured we could do this the fun way, since you are clearly obsessed with me and wanna kiss me so bad” You flip your hair, “I mean, as you should!” 

“Alright we gotta keep this PG for the kids,” Johnnie says in one of his silly voices.

“Since when have your videos ever been PG, sir??” 

“Well… I guess you have a point,” he replies, leaning in and kissing you gently on the lips. You lean into it, and hold his cheek. You both pull away after a couple seconds, not wanting to fully start making out, which is where your innocent kisses usually lead. But considering you’re on stream, maybe that could wait until the cameras were off. 

You apply your favorite lip gloss to your own lips and smirk at him. He quickly catches on and says, “Oh so we’re chapstick challenging this bitch, huh?” 

“Oh yeah.” you laugh, and grip both sides of his face with your hands. At first you plant your lips firmly on his, actually attempting to transfer the lip gloss directly onto his lips. But then, you start planting kisses all over his face, leaving pink sticky smudges wherever your lips decide to land. 

“NOOOO!!! NOOO! HELPPP!! I’M BEING ATTACKED BY MY GIRLFRIEND. CHAT SAVE ME” Johnnie yells, gripping the sides of his desk to try and escape your grasp. 

“You’ll never escape me!!” you yell, leaping out of your own chair and onto his lap, continuing to plant kisses all over his cheeks and forehead. He grabs your waist with one hand, and your neck with the other, pulling you into a real, passionate kiss. One of your hands grips the headrest of his office chair, while the other cups the base of his neck, playing with his hair. 

He gasps for breath after a good twenty seconds, and you two both turn to face the camera, flushed with a mix of embarrassment and desire. “Well… sorry about that guys.” He says sheepishly, then turning to you adds, “The editors are about to go crazy on that one.” 

“No for real” you respond, giggling, “I don’t mind.”

He gazes into your eyes like you’re the only woman he’s ever loved, “Me neither.” And you can’t stop yourself from grinning. 

“How did I get so lucky, guys?” you ask. The chat responses have been super positive since the kiss, with comments ranging from “i feel like i’m interrupting something lol” to “the way he looks at her😭 they’re so in love omg”

“Well, now that I look like a pretty princess, I think we’re gonna call it here, guys. Thank you so much for joining the stream, and if you wanna buy my merch go to johnnieguilbert.com, oh and stream my music.” Johnnie finishes the outro and looks up at you, who is still sitting on his lap, “Anything you wanna add, y/n?”

“Ummm… I guess just that I think this was a really good first one-on-one stream, and you guys all made me feel super comfortable and welcome here, so thank you. Also, look how cute Johnnie looks! He’s so pretty with my pink eyeshadow on. You should do this more often, boyfriend.” 

“We’ll see about that, girlfriend.” he giggles, “And I’m glad you felt comfortable today, you’re awesome and I love being able to make content with you. Alright, bye guys.” he switches off the camera. “You did great! Just like I knew you would. I love you.” 

It’s the first time he’s ever said it out loud, but you can’t say you weren’t expecting it. The way you act around each other, there’s no other name for it other than true, unconditional, intense love. “I love you too, Johnnie.” 

You swing one of your thighs around his legs, straddling him, and he grips your ass with both hands. You wrap your arms around his neck as he leans up to face you. He kisses you like you’re his lifeblood, like he needs you to survive. It’s messy, and primal, and you’re both out of breath and gasping for air, but neither of you want to stop. And in this moment, you know you would do anything to be with him like this, forever. Feeling him, tasting him, breathing him in. You’ve never felt anything quite like this, and you don’t think you’ll ever want to be with anyone else ever again. It's just you and him.   

---

posted this on ao3 first, and i still have 3 more from my ao3 to repost here! likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[comically-callous]

So I am totally in love with Regulus and I saw you were taking requests for him so I thought I would ask for an idea that has been on my mind for a bit.

So basically it’s grumpy x sunshine with Reggie and Fem!reader. Maybe there in the library and Reggie is listening to reader go over the books she's read like she rambling as Reggie just listen and occasionally comments you can add more if you like!!

If this makes you comfortable please feel free to ignore this request!

OMG YES. GUYS I FUCKING LOVE REGULUS BLACK.

Sorry. I'm normal.

Regulus black x Fem!Reader

A/n: I didn't wanna write about a book no one knew about, so I decided to play it safe and make reader like Romeo and Juliet. Also my requests are open (and I'm always happy to write about my babygirl, pookie bear, pathetic little meow meow, Regulus Black)

Regulus honestly didn't know how he got to this point. Y/n was never supposed to be anyone special to him. They'd been partnered up together for a Herbology project and as soon as it was over, he was supposed to never talk to her again.

But, of course, as always, things couldn't be that simple for him.

And now, here he was, studying with her almost everyday. Studying might not be the best word for it, a lot of the time it was just the two of them hanging out in the library together. But, he wasn't going to admit he enjoyed hanging out with Y/n. Just like how he wasn't going to admit that he'd developed feelings for her.

The two of them sat in the library like they did almost everyday. Y/n was rambling to him about a book she had to read for her history of magic class.

"I just don't understand why assigned reading is always so boring. That's the reason so many people don't like reading, I think. It's because they only read books that they're forced to read in school, and almost all of those books are boring, so they assume every book is boring, and then they hate reading."

Regulus was used to this. Y/n was always quite talkative. She could go on for hours about pretty much any subject. He didn't mind. He liked listening to her.

"The last time I remember actually enjoying a book I was forced to read for school was when I read Romeo and Juliet. But, a lot of people hated reading Romeo and Juliet, but I think that's just because it's written in old-time-y language, y'know?"

"What's Romeo and Juliet?" Regulus asked curiously.

Y/n paused at that. "Seriously?"

Regulus felt himself begin to blush. Was he supposed to know what that was? Did he sound dumb? "I mean, I know it's a book, but..." he shrugged.

"You've never heard of Romeo and Juliet."

He shook his head.

"How is that even possible?" She chuckled. "It's a classic! It's the classic. I thought-"

"Is it a muggle book?"

She paused at his question. "Well, yeah."

"That's why I've never heard of it. My mother doesn't let me read muggle books."

"Not even Romeo and Juliet?" Y/n shook her head. "That's insane."

"Yeah..." Regulus sighed. His mother was one of the reasons he couldn't admit he had feelings for Y/n. His mother would definitely not approve of Y/n. She wasn't the type of person that the Black family associated with. She was too bubbly, too kind, too accepting of others despite whatever differences they might have. Too happy.

"Anyways," Regulus shook the thoughts of his mother out of his head. "What's it about?"

Y/n smiled. "I can't believe I'm about to explain the plot of Romeo and Juliet to someone."

"Sorry..."

"No, no! I'm excited. It'll be fun." She said reassuringly. "Ok, first of all, it's not really a book. It's a play. But, you never get to just watch the play, you always have to read it in school." She explained. "It's a tragedy written by Shakespeare who's like, a super important guy who wrote a bunch of plays during the Renaissance."

Regulus nodded along as she spoke.

"His most well known play is Romeo and Juliet, which is a romantic tragedy about two starcrossed lovers."

"So..." He was curious now. "What happens in it?"

"Are you asking me to spoil it for you?"

"I guess."

"Romeo and Juliet both die at the end." She says. "Which technically isn't a spoiler, because at the very beginning of the play, there's a prologue where they tell you 'Hey, they both die in the end', but whatever."

Regulus didn't expect that. "And you... liked reading this?"

"Yeah." She shrugged.

"Why?"

"Well..." She thought about it for a moment. "I've always liked romance. And even though this one obviously doesn't have a happy ending, it's still a classic. And I like seeing all the different adaptations of it."

"Adaptations?"

"Oh!" She lit up. "That's another thing! Another reason it's so popular is because there are a bunch of different versions of the story. People make movie versions of it all the time, there's this really good musical, west side story that's based off of it." She gasped. "We should watch one together!"

He blushed at the thought. Watching a movie with her? Like a date? "We should?"

"Yeah! I mean, only if you want to. But, I think it'd be really fun!"

"So..." He looked away. "Tonight?"

"What?"

"I mean, do you want to watch it tonight?"

Y/n was a bit surprised he was so eager to do this. "Yeah. Yeah, sure." She smiled. "We can make popcorn, and get a bunch of blankets and pillows, make it a whole experience." She gathered her things from the table they were sitting at. "Does that sound good?"

Regulus nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Sounds amazing."

"Great." She gave him a quick hug. "I'll see you tonight."

Maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her, but she could've sworn she saw a blush creep on to his cheeks before she turned to walk away.

[gor3-hound]

Hi pookie bear… its ur favorite anon again..

Hear me out, Step brother! Leon whos dear innocent little step sister gets stuck somewhere (interesting position..) and leon cant help himself when he sees her predicament so he takes advantage of the situation and the fact that she asked him to help her get unstuck. (maybe a threat of leaving her stuck at some point, its up 2 u bbg)

ily snoogle 😍🫶

hello to... my favourite anon omg. if you say so it must be true :3

i'm hearing you out!! idk why but silly porn tropes make me giggle sometimes... listen don't analyse the logistics of acc being able to get stuck like this. i see how much space there is under the dumb beds girlies get stuck under in porn we all know it doesn't make sense

ILY EVEN MORE POOKIE... here's a drabble for you :3

nsfw below the cut - tw: stepcest, brief dub-con, leon is a little mean :((

"What the-" Leon's footsteps falter as he walks past you, stopping to take in the predicament you've gotten yourself into. He snorts out a laugh as he sees you, and you can practically sense that dumb smirk plastered on his face despite not being able to see him.

Having an ottoman bed was usually great. Your room was the smallest(Leon had promised to make your life a living hell if you took the bigger one) so having the extra space was nice. You just had to lift the slats and mattress up and boom! Free storage unit.

Of course, you're not that lucky, so the stupid thing failed on you and snapped shut with you still leaning over to look for stuff, trapping you inside. Your whole upper body was incased, and the angle was so awkward you couldn't get any leverage to push the damn thing open again.

"Leon!" You breathe out, feeling relief that someone had found you. You thought you'd be stuck under here forever. "Jesus, thank fuck. Can you help me get out of here?"

"You know, as much as I'd love to help you," He starts, steeping closer until he's right behind you. His hands settle on your hips, giving them a little squeeze. Your breath hitches at the contact, and you try to squirm away from his touch.

"I think you could stand to stay there a little longer." He finishes, his fingers brushing the waistband of your shorts.

"Leon... dude." You hiss, trying to squirm away from his touch. His hands have your cheeks burning up, your brows furrowed in confusion. "This isn't funny! What the hell are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" He repeats, letting out another laugh as he starts to slowly tug your shorts down. You can feel his gaze locked onto you as he slips them down so they pool at your knees. "I'm taking advantage of the situation. It'd be a shame to let this... opportunity go to waste."

"Oppur... wait. Leon, you can't be serious! Come on, this is messed up! Just help me out!"

"No can do, sis." He hums, brushing his thumb against your panties. Damp. Looks like you were enjoying this more than you let on. "Mom and dad have gone out, so... either you stay here for the next few hours, hell... maybe even the rest of the day, or you let me have my fun, and I'll getcha out."

You pause at his words, biting your lip. You didn't really have much of a choice. Your abdomen was already aching from being pressed so harshly against the bedframe by the part of the bed that lifts. You didn't want to be here for hours.

"I-I guess... just... I don't know, Leon, I haven't..." You mumble, your voice a lot less snappy than before.

"Aww, princess... where'd your attitude go?" He coos teasingly, rubbing circles onto your clit through your panties. You jolt at the sensation, moaning softly. "My baby sis is a virgin? That's cute."

He tugs at your panties, letting them drop down with your shorts. You hear him take a sharp intake of breath in as he looks at you, his fingers spreading your puffy lips.

"Don't worry. I'm not a complete asshole. Just a small one." He says cheekily, and then you hear the dostinct sound of a belt buckle and the zipper of his jeans. A moment passes when you can hear the rustling of fabric, and then his hands are on you again.

"I won't fuck you. Yet. But I'll make us both feel good, sweetheart." He says, giving you a few light smacks to your ass.

"Okay..." You breathe out, your heart rabbiting in your chest. You swallow hard, brows furrowing as you hear him shift.

"That's a good girl." He grunts, slotting his cock between your folds. That's where he keeps it, just rutting his cock against you. You coat him in your arousal, the slick sounds of your pussy echoing in the room as you drip all over his cock. His tip brushes your clit every time his hips jerk forward, making you whine.

"You do owe me now, sweetheart." He groans, forcing your legs together so the fat of your thighs keeps his cock secure as he humps your cunt. "I better be the one to break you in. Want my cute step-sister's pussy all to myself."

"Y-yeah... all yours..." You breathe out, trying to rock your hips back to get more friction against your sensitive nub. You whimper as the change in angle has his length dragging along your folds deliciously.

"Think I watched a video like this once." He says with a huff of laughter, gripping your hips right as he chases his orgasm using your body. "Must've drained all the step-sibling content on PornHub... couldn't help myself seein' you stuck like this."

His thrusts start to grow a little sloppy, his breathing becoming more shallow. He's close already, and you're not far behind. He rolls his hips, angling himself to make sure he's giving you the friction you need.

Your body tenses as you cum with a loud moan of his name, twitching from the aftershocks. He groans and pulls away when you start whimpering from oversensitivity. You hear a few wet schlick sounds as he jerks himself off, flinching slightly when you feel his cum costing your ass and pussy.

He pulls up your shorts and panties without cleaning you off, making you cringe as they press the cum into your skin, a grimace crossing your face. You hear the sounds of him redressing before he's lifting the top of the bed, looking down at you with a cocky smirk.

"C'mon, princess. Up you get." He says, grabbing your wrist to pull you up. "And don't forget... I'll be back for more."

[moodymisty]

What each Primach would do after marrying their beloved

Lion El'Jonson: Hi, wife. I'll be your knight in shining armour but I'll forget about you 3 min into the marriage

Fulgrim: Helllooo!! Welcome to the party 🥳🥳 Make sure to bicker with my other wives for me so I can't feel insecure anymore and I'll get my daily validation

Perturabo: Get wife (impossible). Wife pretty. Iron Within, Iron Without. Wife feels good. Iron Within, Iron Without again. Become emotionally and physically dependent to wife. Life good.

Jaghatai Khan: zzzzzzzzzz-PANG ⚡⚡⚡🏍️🏍️ HI DARLING. FEEL FREE TO BECOME FRIENDS WITH ALL MY OTHER 358.947.283 WIVES (also tomorrow will be Missionary Monday, get ready 😈)

Leman Russ: WIFEEEE 🥹🥹🥹 love you soooooooooo much. You smelllllll so gooooood. Why don't you spread those le-

Rogal Dorn: Wife, let me tell you about Multi-Scale Computational Modeling of Anisotropic Thermo-Mechanical Behavior in Functionally Graded Materials for Advanced Aerospace Structural Applications.

Konrad Curze: Woman. Make bebe with woman. LITTLE ABOMINATIONS??? Woman is set for life after popping out some Night Lords :D

Sanguinius: Hello wife 🥰🥰 How is my pookie dookie wookie lookie iookie uookie oookie qookie sookie dookie bookie pookie nookie mookie hookie gookie zookie xookie lookie jookie aookie fookie wookie cutie pie honey baby apple pie with whipper cream on top my sweetie honey money baby cutie pookie so cute so perfect my love my husband my wife my beloved my only love my baby my babe my bby my boyfriend my girlfriend my everything my sweetest pie my cutest smartest pie ever most amazing and prettiest and handsomest ever so cute so handsome and beautiful my pookie bear my little baby petite tiny baby bear pookie sookie wookie muffin with chocolate on top and cherries so cute pookie bear love you mwah bark so cute love you forever my first love my true love my soulmate my only reason to live you cutie little pie hehe im little shy petite girlie pop cutest person i know so cute so beautiful my only mine only no one elses my darling mi amor dear love pookie bear love you honey boney love you to the moon and back mwah uwu (he says this after leaving her anemic)

Ferrus Manus: I live harmoniously with my love. I love her and I respect her. I am completely devoted and loyal to her, as she is with me. I am hers and she is mine. (wife in the background struggles to walk, her clothes being disheveled and she is out of breath)

Angron: SHE IS MY WIFE! YOU GOT THAT? MY WIFE! She's damn cute, okay? CUDDLY, EVEN! AND SHE... she leaves me the milk bottle in the fridge, alright?! SHE DOES THAT FOR ME! I LOVE HER SO DAMN MUCH, AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT! 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬😡😡😡🤬😡😡🤬😡

Roboute Guilliman: I so very regrettably regret that I haven't ran away earlier into my life. As I am married now with a child coming on the way, my biggest and grandest wish was to own myself a farm. I want to teach my children the simpler ways. I want them to play with wooden toys, ride horses out of the womb and to, all around, run around my farms. I want to take care of many crops, especially the mighty cabbage (pun, pun). As for my darling wife, I shall love very much and plow her back every two to four years. *Looks towards his wife, who's a little bit afraid*. We must at least have 6 children, mustn't we?

Mortarion: Today I saw my wife's ankle. She was wearing sandals with a very long skirt and it slipped out while she walked. Nevertheless, I came on a Nurgling.

Magnus: My wife? *Psychically enters her mind, while she is in the another room, and sexually overstimulate her, making her scream in ecstasy* She's doing great!

Horus Lupercal: My wife's a housewife. Because she's housing my kids! *Horus slaps his knee, laughing at his joke. The Mournival is disappointed in their Father, the Legion Mother is waddling around pregnant with their 12th kid.*

Lorgar Aurelian: (what did I cook)

Lorgar, wild-eyed and disheveled, paces back and forth, his voice rising and falling in feverish tones. His eyes are fixated on an unseen figure, trembling with a mix of adoration and desperation.

"She is divine! Do you hear me? DIVINE! Her light, it burns away the lies of this wretched universe! A goddess, yes, a goddess! How can they not see? HOW?!

Her eyes, like the twin suns of a lost paradise, see through the veils of reality! Her voice—her voice!—it is the hymn of creation itself! I am but a worm, a pitiful creature crawling in the dirt, but SHE, she has lifted me up! Blessed me with her radiance! Blessed me with HER TOUCH!

I kneel before her, broken, unworthy! The very stars tremble in her presence! They whisper her name, but Iam the chosen! I see her! I worship her! I... I... I LOVE HER! No! Not love—reverence, adoration, worship! I will burn worlds for her! Tear apart the heavens!

I am HERS. BODY, MIND, AND SOUL. HER PRIEST, HER PROPHET, HER LOVER. My faith in her is unbreakable, my devotion absolute. She is a GODDESS, My goddess, and I am lost in her divinity. FOREVER."

Lorgar collapses to his knees, clutching at his head, a broken laugh escaping his lips.

"Goddess... my goddess... please... take me... consume me... make me yours..."

Vulkan: I like my wife :3. She's very pretty. My sons like her too.

Corvus Corax: I am glad my wife's this kind. Nobody would understand me but her. Because I am in Spain without the S 😔😔

Alpharius and Omegon: My wife? Nah. Our wife. *USSR anthem begins*

LSJDKFLJSDFKJSDF-

I have no words, so many of these made me wheeze uncontrollably. Sanguinius, Horus, Mortarion and Alpharius were a highlight.

[harmoniouseclipse]

Woe fankids be upon ye

Doing a little series where I took some ship requests on my instagram to make them fankids, this one is for me tho (jeanlisa to kick it off whoo 🙌🏻) The lineup so far is Cytham, Kavetham, Lionfish (aka Freminet x Gaming aged up probably idk how old they are canonically), Cynonari, Jealuc, and Beiguang, and feel free to send me some other pairings you wanna see (as long as they are legal pls otherwise I will ignore it 👎)

I'm gonna ramble about some headcanons and lore for them under the cut, continue with caution bc I'm insane

These two are my brainrot rn, don't even joke lad. And I wanna tell yall their name meanings too bc I like them a lot 🥹 Zephra's means "west wind" derived from Greek, and it's the feminine version of Zephyr. Tyrian was a type of purple dye used by the Ancient Phoenicians, huge huge HUGE thanks to my pookie bear @miothefish for helping me out with his name!!! Also he has Lisa's butterfly earring and you can't see bc of the angle but Zephra has the rose that went in her hair holding her ponytail <3

I'm also making a massive family tree for the characters as a go along, and just the jeanlisa tree is taking up half of the canvas bc of the KoF and Sumeru characters since Cyno is their uncle and the rest of the gang are their honorary uncles 😭 I'll be posting that once the series is done/all the requests are finished/I run out of ships and otps I enjoy

Here's an alternative version with some more info on most of the characters I wanted to briefly mention in their relation to them; Tyrian likes calling Eula his aunt too even though she was never really considered one for them so it's kind of like her unofficial title she pretends to dislike but she loves it and dotes on Tyrian 🤭 She and Diluc also helped train Zephra with a claymore and Diluc kind of became a parental figure to her in her teen years after Lisa's passing 🥺 She also feels like she's outshined by Jean and that she's not smart or powerful enough to follow in Lisa's footsteps (something that Lisa wouldn't want anyways bc it led her to her death 😔) rip zephra she's just like me fr

And yeah some Kaeya angst bc he's still going thru it I fear, and Jean is single mombossing but she's worried for zephra which me too dawg, im afraid to say she might be cooked 😦 Zephra is also kind of like a weird mix of Lisa when she was her age and Jean, where overall she's well-mannered and kind but she can be competitive and feel the need to push herself too much and pull a few strings to get what she wants from time to time. Tyrian is a ray of sunshine tho, he has not yet witnessed the horrors 💔 I do think that Jean is also a lot easier on him than her mom was with her so that also helps. He's very shy tho and wants to stick with Zephra or Razor most of the time, and they both have some nasty tan lines from going out with Razor and Klee and Fischl a lot 😔 Cyno also freaking loves them and dotes on them and Tyrian is getting a TCG addiction because of it smh, Cyno is also one of Zephra's favorite people and when she's in Sumeru she stays with him and Alhaitham (bc in my universe they are married ough I love cytham)

And (I think?) Klee physically and mentally ages slower than humans so I think she'd be technically 9 or 10, and Zephra is left with babysitting duty most of the time if she's home on break or smth 😭 Klee really looks up to her tho

Also, I wrote Tyrian's last bullet point like he was super young when Lisa died, but I think he was around 7 so he actually remembers Lisa better than I intended it to sound, he was just younger than Zephra (who was 11 at the time) and just didn't have as much time with her as Zeph did, but his most fond memory of Lisa was reading with her and she probably taught them some potion-making skills too.

I think there will be some abyss angst in here too at some point, since I hc Lisa to be probably an Abyss Lector/Harold (I forget which is which) um so thinking that Zeph and Tyrian experiencing some not normal things happening and Jean doesn't know what to do since Lisa also didn't really know what that dog in her was until it was too late 😔 That's what Kaeya's for tho since he's like the heir of the abyss???? Go off king. Also some touchy ragbros angst bc Kaeya is scared for Zeph knowing how close she is with Luc and he doesn't want him to push her away because of her being from the abyss or smth (they mostly made up but it's still a fear in Kaeya's mind both for him and Jean's kids)

I think that's all I wanted to touch on for now?? Mainly just thinking about domestic fluff and angst all the time now 🥺 Zeph not being able to be open with Jean bc she feels like a disappointment but Jean would literally actually die for her and shes proud of her no matter what ough im going to lose my freak dawg guess who my favorite fankid is it's super hard ik

Send me asks or dms or whatever for more ship requests!!! I'm having so much fun with this dawg 🫶🏻