#i took a little break and it made me feel better about art

[jaellyfishh]

The Corner Where We Met · Part 3

part 1 - part 2

trope: art teacher!azzi x PE teacher!paige

content: slow start to set the scene lol, fluff, smut, tiny angst

word count: 6.1K

The next Wednesday since that night

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” KK whispered to Aaliyah as she stared at the scene in front of her, the pair sitting in their usual corner table of the teacher’s lounge.

Edwards turned her head to join her colleague, nodding impressively. “They sure are giving each other googly eyes. But, like, when do they not”.

There stood Paige and Azzi, casually chatting while they waited for their lunch to heat up. It was nothing out of the ordinary from their usual break time exchanges, but somehow the air around them this time felt different - a little more affectionate.

They were smiling ear-to-ear, sometimes one was grinning at the ground after the other said something. In some moments they also giggled or had let out a light laugh, tilting their heads as they stared at each other, eyes glimmering. They were truly in their own world.

Given, their schedules haven’t exactly been aligning during school, they relished any chance they could get to see each other, even if fleeting. Whether it was Paige waiting by Azzi’s classroom door before they head to lunch or whether it was Azzi helping Paige clean their gym storage room after school; even the quick glances when they’d passed each other down the hallway or with their colleagues at lunch. They always seem to find each other.

All of a sudden, strong hands gripped the shoulders of the curious teachers. “Hey, you guys seeing what I'm seeing?” Nika had just entered the chat, Kayla right behind her.

"Girl, that's what I said! There’s a shift in the space time continuum. Did Car say anything to y’all about that night? I couldn't squeeze anything outta Azzi. And Paige kept deflecting my question," Arnold asked Nika, who took a seat beside her.

“You guys sure do seem invested in the love life of complete adults," Mühl shook her head. “But as lame as it is to admit it, this is the only thing I look forward to in my life. And no, by the way, Car and I don’t even remember what happened that night.”

Kayla sighed. “Yeah, me neither. I just remember calling Azzi ‘cause she wasn’t on the dance floor. Then she popped up outta nowhere to help us, so.”

Arnold hummed. “Didn’t Paige show up right after?”

“Yeah, she came out from the toilet,” Edwards answered as if stating the obvious.

The new information made the girls whip their heads to face Aaliyah. Then KK lifted one eyebrow, leaning towards here. “And where was Azzi coming from?”

Aaliyah slowly answered as her memory was picking back up. “Oh…the toilet. Wait-”

“You bitch,” Arnold started poking the taller girl’s sides, making her jolt. “How could you keep this from us?”

“Stop! Oh my god, I’m sorry, jeez!” Aaliyah whispered-yelled. “Listen, I was half drunk and scared for Car and Nika to piece things together, okay? Besides, I had to worry about preparing questions for pop quiz over the weekend. And then my rent was due. Don’t even mention about getting Oreo to the vet because of his ear infection-“

“Okay, you have adult things to do, we get it!” Arnold interjected, annoyed at her friend for keeping something she deemed was a really big secret.

Kayla couldn’t keep her smile from forming. “You guys don’t think-“

“What are you guys talking about?” A familiar voice startled the group of ladies.

As soon as they whipped their heads to the source, they were met with Paige and Azzi who were holding their lunch.

The women started scrambling, some resuming to munch on their food, some fumbling in their words trying to get a response out.

“Oh, you know, Aaliyah’s sick puppy,” Mühl was able to answer coolly.

“Oh, Aaliyah, I’m so sorry,” Azzi sympathised as she sat down, Paige following suit.

“H-he’s better now. Thanks, Az,” The taller girl couldn’t help but feel baffled over the sudden attention to her dog.

“So…you two seem to be very close,” Williams smiled, almost scheming.

Azzi bit her cheeks as she opened her lunch box. “I think we all have, no? We did do a bit of team building last week”.

“Is the team building in the room with us?” KK whispered while snickering. Paige couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, being she was the one sitting closer to her.

But Paige could see Azzi tense up under the guise of eating in nonchalance, her eyes scattering as she couldn’t exactly look her friends in the eye. After all, it felt like she was being interrogated by a large group of people, let alone at her workplace.

Suddenly, Azzi felt a warm touch on her thigh. The blonde had placed her hand on it under the table, her thumb rubbing on her knee hoping to ease the curly brunette’s mind. Azzi could only take pleasure in the feeling as she just continued to chew on her sandwich, her muscles beginning to relax.

And then Paige stared at Nika. “Dude, I’m still not forgiving you for vomiting on my shoes, by the way. Great team building. Now I know who to never go out drinking with”

Nika scoffed. “Yeah? Well, I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t smell horrible! Never wear that musky shit near me”.

“It’s Valentino. You just have poor taste. And shit alcohol tolerance”.

The group laughed as Nika was about to pounce on her, the tension beginning to subside.

Throughout lunch, Paige kept her hand resting on Azzi’s thigh, rubbing it occasionally when she’d remembered. It only took a few seconds for Kayla to realise her friend had scooted marginally closer to Paige, perhaps to lean in for comfort or to make the distance easier for her arm.

Kayla gave Azzi a knowing smile before joining in the momentum of the conversations.

If it's one thing for certain, as curious as the girls were about this new romantic telenovela unfolding before them, they prioritised respecting the pair even more. Of course, they had to be mature about it, they were all adults, after all. But they’d also like to think a little teasing and plotting wouldn’t hurt anyone.

—

“I’m afraid they won’t stop playing detective” Azzi told Paige as they walked down the hallway together. It sort of became a ritual for the blonde to drop Azzi to her class when she had free time, a kind gesture for…new friends.

“It’s inevitable. They weren’t as invasive as I thought they would be, though,” Paige smiled, her attention way too focused on the curly brunette.

The pair didn’t really talk much about that night. Their approach to it being quite unique to them, very casual. Regardless, they liked the subtle intimacy they have. Sure, there’s a mutual fondness for each other so far, giving lingering touches or speaking about certain personal matters, but they don’t dwell on it too much. For Paige, she had thought for a while that it could overcomplicate things and, for Azzi, it was more of fear towards her overthinking. That perhaps she’d be too overbearing once they eventually address it.

“Well, at least they’re self-aware. They know better than not to push me too hard,” The shorter girl mumbled the latter sentence, blurting it out absentmindedly as she looked straight ahead.

“Why’s that?” the blond asked curiously, unsure if Azzi was just saying it a joke or not.

As soon as Azzi went silent, Paige could tell it was something more serious.

“Oh, you know, just my past and stuff,” The younger girl tried to act dismissively. The blonde nodded in silence, understanding well not to press any further than Azzi wanted to. In fact, Paige herself would not be ready to open Pandora's box of her own past either.

“You know, I really admire you, Azzi”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Wait, where’s all this coming from?”

“I’m being serious. You’re a great teacher. You go above and beyond for this school and you care so much for the kids that you treat them like they’re your own. Like take my first few gym classes, for example, they always talk about how they’d rather you teach them because I’m ‘too bossy’ and that I don’t let them ‘voice their opinions’. They’re middle schoolers!”

Azzi moved her head in skepticism. “Did you do something I’m not supposed to find out?”

Paiged grunted. “Can you take the compliment for one second? Geez!”

Azzi conceded, her hands raising up in surrender. “Okay, okay, okay. But that’s just called being a decent adult, no? They’re already stressed with needing to get good grades so they can get a ‘good paying job’… they don’t need more adults nagging in their faces about it. Besides, I also think you’re doing a good job for someone who just started. You give them tough love, but it pushes them to be strong, you know? I could learn a thing or two from you, too”

Paige smiled in agreement, looking at Azzi with pride. “And that’s why I’m your favourite teacher, right?”

“Please, I think KK takes the title since she teaches high school math,” Azzi scoffed, trying to hide her smile. Paige frowned.

“Oh, that’s unlucky. ‘Cause you’re my favourite teacher, actually,” Paige lowered her head as she glanced at Azzi through her lashes, her hands behind her back as she looked at her in anticipation. A lame posture that can look charismatic.

Azzi shook her head at the way Paige tried to flirt, stifling a smile as to not give her any satisfaction.

As the air around them began to shift, they were suddenly met with a rather stout, shorter figure approaching them.

“Ms. Fudd! Moore’s favourite,” a gentle yet gruff voice sang, alerting the pair.

“Oh, hey, Principal Auriemma,” Azzi quickly redirected her sullen expression to a smile.

“I just wanna apologise again about terminating Ms. Smith’s contract. You taking up the job of two people is truly not fair. But I’m doing my best to find a recruit asap,” He gave her a sympathetic smile.

He continued. “But, I’m afraid I have even more terrible news, depending on how you take it.”

The pair gave each other a quick glance.

“As you know, Moore’s winter recital is coming up. And you must know better than me how much that means for a lot of our kids and their parents. And you’ve always done fantastic in designing the props every year. But with Ms. Smith gone and Ms. White coming back from maternity leave by the end of next month, I’ve been doing my best to ask the other teachers for help, truly, but they all seem too busy, so-“

“I can help,” Paige interrupted before Principal Auriemma could finish.

Both him and Fudd turned their heads to the taller woman, Azzi surprised.

“You said it before I could, Ms. Bueckers,” He smiled. “If that’s okay?”

“I’m always happy to help, Big G,” Paige gave a charming smile, her hands clasped behind her back as she gave a single nod.

Principal Auriemma gave a loud laugh before reaching his hand out. To Azzi’s surprise, the pair dapped each other up.

And as soon as he left the two women alone in the hallway, the curly brunette couldn’t help but laugh at what she just witnessed.

“This is KK’s doing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, she’s honestly great influence”

As the pair giggled on their continuing path, Paige asked. “So, what are we gonna do now?”

Azzi sighed. “Well, I like to plan ahead, so I’ll make a list. We definitely need to buy some more art supplies. We can reuse the spares from last year, which could reduce overspending the budget. Wait, I don’t even know if the music and drama club students planned anything since Ms. White’s not here. Are we copying the one from two years ago? Do I have to make a new set? God, I think our Christmas Tree might even been broken-

“Azzi, Azzi, Azzi,” Paige repeated calmly, gently grabbing Fudd’s hands while her thumbs caressed them. “Breathe, please”.

The curly brunette took a deep breath before she locked eyes with Paige.

“Sorry, I feel like I have a lot on my plate right now”

“That’s why I’m here to help, right?” Azzi gave her a simple nod. “I’ll do what you need me to do since I’ve got a free period. We’ll think about everything else after school, okay?

“Okay,” Fudd croaked. “You wouldn’t mind accompanying me after school to buy our supplies?”

“Of course,” Paige smiled, her thumbs still caressing her hands.

Azzi stifled a laugh. “Okay, you can let go now”.

“Maybe I don’t want to,” The blonde grinned, her hands now gripping tighter.

They stared into each other’s eyes, one looking teasingly while the other rolling in frustration. The curly brunette was trying to pull her hands away, tugging as formally as she can without seeming too erratic. Paige stood firmly, not moving an inch, her grin remaining.

Before her defeat, Azzi turned her head with wide eyes.

“Principal Auriemma!” Azzi gasped. Paige jumped as she ripped her hands off, a nervous expression plastered on her face while she turned to where Fudd looked.

Paige saw nobody in the hallway. And Azzi was able to escape, jogging back to her class. The blonde stood alone, hands on her hips as she smiled in defeat.

—

“Freaking cheater,” The blonde startled Azzi, who was waiting idly by the gym doors.

Azzi rolled her eyes smiling as they made their way towards the exit. “You need to stop pulling that stuff here. There’s kids around, not to mention our coworkers”.

“I know, I know. I just like messing with you,” Paige shrugged, nudging her arm on Azzi’s.

“I swear you act like a high school boy sometimes,” Azzi shook her head.

“That hurts, Az. Then I guess I won’t tell you what the kids at drama club prepared for,” Paige sighed, her strides getting longer as she walked further away.

“Alright, alright, fine. But, just so you know, I won with that one,” Azzi insisted, catching up to the blonde. And Paige just let her.

After the blonde gave her the run down all the way to Fudd’s car, Azzi was relieved they didn’t have to buy much. From Paige’s intel, the kids will be redoing the songs and activities from their recital two years ago, that was as much as the high schoolers could conjure up for their school with their teacher gone.

And, in no time, the pair had driven to Walmart, ticking off everything from Azzi’s checklist before returning home to the Fudd-Ducharme household with full hands.

“Just put them on the floor there. Sorry for the mess. I’ll go get us some water,” The curly brunette panted as she dropped the bags by their sofa before heading to the kitchen to pour themselves a glass.

Paige let out sound breath before plopping herself on their brown couch, a softness to that could lull anyone to sleep. As their bodies relaxed in the quietness, Paige couldn’t help but observe her surroundings, appreciating the earth tones and somewhat eclectic design.

“Hmm, you’ve got a nice place. It feels really cozy,” The blonde sighed as her body assimilated into the sofa.

Azzi approached their living room, handing out a glass of water to Paige.

“Thanks, we worked hard on it. Trust me, this place looked like shit when we first moved in,” Azzi contorted her face in disgust as she reminisced, settling down next to Paige who sat up to take the glass off her.

“Well, you sure you’re not trying to revert back to it? Because what is all that?” Paige laughed as she pointed at the cardboard boxes accompanied by scattered tools on the ground right outside her bedroom door.

Azzi realised before laughing herself, semi-embarrassed at the state she left her house in. “Stop, I just got a new bed frame, okay? Car was helping me out yesterday, but I didn’t get time to clean up before school started.”

Paige found an opportunity. “Hm, someone got a li’l too freaky”.

“Yeah, well at least I got more game than you,” Azzi scoffed.

The blonde raised her brows. “What makes you think I don’t have any game?”

“You seem like a one-person-at-a-time individual”

“Yeah, so I can take my time talking them through it,” Paige remarked suggestively, her voice confident.

“Paige,” Azzi warned before the blonde chuckled.

“We’re not in school, so I can mess with you, can’t I?”

Azzi could only bite her cheek, unable to find a comeback. She couldn’t exactly discern the true intentions of those words, her brain already interpreting it as something that would raise the hairs of her skin.

“Speaking of Caroline, where is she?” Paige asked curiously as she sipped on her glass.

“Oh, she won’t be here for two days. Her cousin had an emergency, so she’s babysitting until they come back,” Fudd answered. "Speaking of which, I have to text her you're staying for dinner".

Hmm, how convenient, Paige muttered as she placed her glass on the table in front of them.

“Hm?” Azzi tilted her head, certain of what she heard, but still wanted to make sure.

“Hm? Oh, it’s nothing…” The blonde tried to dismiss, her body position now fully turning to Azzi, one arm on top of the sofa as her head rested on her hand.

And they just sat there staring at each other, these moments happening more and more frequently, always leaving them at a loss for words. But it was hard not to get trapped in each other’s eyes. It was as if they tried to search for unspoken answers every time, a need to do something.

“Well, I-I’m gonna order us some take out. I don’t really have left overs except for fruits, sorry,” Azzi scrambled to fetch her phone from her pocket.

Paige reached out her hand to stop Azzi. “No, it’s okay, I got you. You ran around getting all these supplies, it’s the least I can do.”

Azzi nodded. “Okay…then I’m gonna take a quick shower. I dunno how long you’ll stay tonight, but if you wanted to take one as well-”

“You asking me to join you?”

Azzi closed her eyes. “You know, at some point I’m gonna get tired of that, right?”

Paige laughed through her nose. “And I’m surprised you haven’t stopped me already”.

“Whatever. I’m gonna leave some clothes out for you,” Azzi said as she entered her room. Paige hummed in response while scrolling through the Noodles & Company menu.

Fifteen minutes later, Paige heard the common bathroom door swing open, the steam coming out as a figure came into her peripherals. For some reason, her heart started racing. Perhaps it was the subtle eroticism of it all, a possibly semi-naked Azzi within the same vicinity. And it was ironic, really, given she wasn’t afraid of almost seeing it all that night. But this time felt different. She didn’t want to raise her head too much, knowing that she wanted to give Azzi as much privacy as she could.

I’m not some creep, Paige thought.

But the freshly cleaned girl started approaching Paige. And the blonde could only clench her jaw, her eyes glued to her phone as a distraction. And just then Azzi bent down in front of her causing the blonde to jerk, her head instinctively raising up.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise I left my phone here”. Azzi was already dressed in her home clothes, they were simple. A grey shirt paired with black shorts. And she was scrunching her wet hair with a towel, trying not to drip water on the small carpet. Paige found the sight adorable. However, she was still stuck in a trance, her heart thumping for her ears only to hear.

“Paige, you good?” Azzi stifled a laugh. “Did you think I was just gonna walk around naked or something?”

A warmth grew on the blonde’s cheeks. “Absolutely not,” she replied in denial.

“Right, right. Well, the shower’s ready, just so you know,” Azzi pointed out the obvious, grinning at the state of the woman in front of her.

“Right, um, also order’s on its way, so…yeah, okay,” Paige stammered before quickly getting up, leaving the living room as Azzi continued to smile.

It was rare for Azzi to catch moments where she’d get Paige flustered, but when it happens, it’d stroked her ego just a tad bit.

Another fifteen minutes had passed and Paige had left the bathroom, fully clothed and her hair damp. As soon as she approached Azzi who was sitting on the sofa, she folded her arms in disappointment.

“Really?” was all the blonde could say before the younger girl bursted out laughing.

Azzi had given her an all bright pink attire. An oversized pink shirt with bejeweled lettering spelling out ‘Princess’ across the chest paired with shorts of the same colour.

“What? I think it looks good on you!” Azzi exclaimed with a wide smile.

The blonde let out a deep breath before plopping herself heavily beside Azzi. The curly brunette turned herself fully to Paige, her head propped up by her own hand as it rested on the head of the sofa. Feeling betrayed, the blonde turned her head the other way.

“Paige, quit sulking. You’re being a baby right now,” Azzi shoved her shoulder with her free hand.

The blonde continued to mope, not giving the curly brunette any attention. But a small smirk etched on her face where it was hidden from Azzi.

Azzi sighed. “Alright, fine”

As Azzi looked onto the blonde woman, she couldn’t help but stare at her cheeks like it’s free real estate. The curly brunette can’t lie, she craved being in any form of intimacy with Paige ever since that night. It left her on a cliffhanger, so she can’t help it when her body starts to learn towards her.

Before Paige knew it, Fudd planted a kiss on her cheek. The blonde slightly jolted before turning her head to finally face Azzi. Smile beaming as if she was waiting for that moment.

And then Bueckers pecked her lips, returning the favour, her eyes half-closed in a cheeky smile.

But before Paige let go, Azzi pushed her face forward, reattaching their lips together.

It was needy, yet tender. Impatient, yet delicate. A type of crave that could only be felt by the pair. The younger woman slid closer, deepening the kiss as she gripped Paige’s waist, the blonde’s hand remaining on her jaw as her thumb caressed Azzi’s cheek.

Paige realised that Azzi liked to kiss on her bottom lip a lot. Capturing it, sucking then biting before the blonde let out a breath in arousal.

“Hmm…you’re so pretty, Az”

Feeling warm all over by her voice, Azzi draped her thighs over Paige’s lap, straddling it in remembrance of that night. The older woman instinctively gripped Fudd’s waist, pulling her in closer, deepening the kiss even more. Their breaths were muffled, their moans swallowing each other. Azzi’s hands travelled up to cup Paige’s jaw possessively, while the blonde’s hands rubbed up her back and down her ass.

Then Azzi started grinding subtly on Paige’s core, their bodies heated. Sloppy and messy, their kiss became hungrier, their tongues continued to entangle in each other, minds growing fuzzy.

Ding dong.

The girls paused, panting. Azzi’s hands stayed gripping Paige’s jaws, the blonde’s hands glued to her ass. But their lips were magnetised and they leaned in again, resuming their make out session. It was turning them on even more, their kisses breathless-

Ding.

It was Paige’s phone notifying of the successful delivery, waking the pair up from their trance. They looked at each other rather dissatisfied by the interruption, but they soon realised they needed to eat first.

Just as Azzi was about to slowly get off Paige’s lap, the blonde pulled her back and gave her another peck.

“I’ll go get it,” Paige smiled dopily before turning Azzi’s hips to the side to settle her gently on the sofa.

Azzi smiled shyly, acting busy by moving the coke bottles on the table unnecessarily on the table she had already set. And soon enough, Paige returned with a paper bag, taking out two big containers in excitement.

“Here’s my Wisconsin Mac & Cheese, and here’s your Chicken Cobb Salad…hmm, look at all those greens in there,” Paige contorted her face in disgust.

Azzi let out a small laugh. “For a PE teacher, you sure eat unhealthy”.

“Life’s too short to trap people in a box. Let me live, Azzi,” Paige dramatically exasperated, causing the younger woman to roll her eyes.

The sun had already set and the darkness of Azzi’s home was illuminated by the array of sunset and accent lamps around the apartment. The ambient low-lighting casting shadows throughout, a perfectly cozy vibe for a weekday night.

Azzi had switched on the TV, a random movie playing as the pair were busy munching on their dinner, the atmosphere comforting.

As the flow of the night continued, the pair laughed as they shared stories of their past, mostly the weird era of college. Azzi discovered that Paige studied nursing for two years before switching majors, the reason being the financial burden and the burnout. And that she had a roommate who secretly kept a pet spider that one day escaped and conveniently sat on her pillow one night - her trauma for creepy crawlers more apparent since then. Paige learnt that Azzi’s first reason she started drawing as a kid was because she wanted to picture herself kissing Nick Jonas. And that her two younger brothers admired her so much to a point where they would insist on wearing her clothes to school to be just like her.

After dinner, the pair made their way to the kitchen. They threw away their empty containers and miscellaneous things in the trash before Paige went to wash her hands.

As she waited for them to dry, Paige leaned her back on the kitchen counter behind Azzi, watching her use the sink. When the curly brunette turned around, she was surprised at the blonde eyeing her down.

“Yes?” Azzi asked, her tone playful as she leaned her back on the sink counter.

“I kinda…don’t wanna leave yet,” The blonde pushed herself off the counter, walking over to where Azzi stood, her arms instinctively reaching out to grab her waist.

They just smiled in their intimate embrace, Azzi’s hands intuitively trailing upwards to wrap them around Paige’s neck, tilting her head before replying.

“So stay,” she whispered like she was lovesick. Then she leaned her face towards the blonde’s neck, giving feathery kisses, almost like she was trying to persuade her to stay.

Paige’s knees almost buckled this time, Azzi’s wet lips tickling on her skin. It was not like she was going to leave anyways.

As the curly brunette continued peppering sweet kisses on her jaw in neediness, the blonde couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. She liked how possessive Azzi held onto her, not wanting to let her go.

In an instant, Paige bent her knees, lowering her arms below Azzi’s ass and, in one quick motion, she swiftly lifted her up. Azzi gasped at the romantic gesture. Reacting almost immediately, Azzi wrapped her thighs around Paige’s waist, securing herself as she looked at Paige with dark eyes.

It was bewitching and greedy, the cozy mood of Azzi’s dark apartment paired with the thought of them being all alone. Their hooded eyes stared mindlessly at each other’s mouth, the air around them thickening.

“Az, please,” Paige whispered.

Immediately, Azzi crashed her lips onto Paige’s, the moan they let out was lewd. The younger woman could feel Paige turn them around, slowly walking to the counter behind her and placing Azzi on the cold surface. The curly brunette shivered, but she kept Paige close, tightening her thighs around her as they continued to make out, Azzi’s hands finding home in Paige’s jaws.

Then Paige moved her hands. She snaked one long arm around Azzi’s waist while her other free hand fiddled with the hem of Azzi’s shirt. The older woman needed to feel her, she wanted more from that night, she wanted more of Azzi.

And just then, Paige hands went under her shirt, roaming Azzi’s ribs and sending shivers down her spine before ultimately cupping her breast.

“Hhh, Paige,” was all Azzi could breathe out.

The blonde started fondling it, squeezing and playing with the nipple. A moan escaped from Azzi’s mouth in between their make out session.

“You like that?” Paige's voice sent vibrations on Azzi’s lips.

“Mmm, yeah,” Azzi stammered, relishing in the touch.

As their movements grew more sensual, Azzi removed her lips, their foreheads touching. They grinned with closed eyes, giddy from the tension.

“Hmm?” Paige just hummed, wondering why the woman in front of her paused.

“I got a new bedframe…” Azzi leaned her head a fraction backwards, the blonde’s face in full sight. The taller woman bit her lips with hooded eyes, waiting for Azzi to continue. “I…I wanna test it out”.

Paige could only smile dopily before whispering. “Yeah, I was kinda waiting for you to say that”.

The pair giggled before Paige lifted Azzi up from the counter. The younger woman hugged Paige close, the feeling of being held like that made Azzi’s heart flutter, as if she was the most delicate person in the world. And she couldn‘t help but find her lips back on Paige’s neck again as they moved, intentionally giving slow, smacking kisses which the blonde found pleasure with the sound.

As soon as they entered her bedroom, it only took a few seconds before Azzi felt some turbulence as Paige knelt on her bed, moving towards the centre before gently laying Azzi down on her back.

Paige hovered over Azzi, both arms planted on either side of her, while Azzi’s arms and thighs remained draped around Paige. Their faces are inches away from each other. The intimacy thickened as their breaths continued to cool them down, but Azzi didn’t want the heat to go away, instead pulling Paige’s neck lower.

“I wanna finish what we started that night,” the blonde breathed out.

“Please, just,” she whispered, trying to get their lips to meet. “I want you”.

But Paige redirected her lips on Azzi’s sweet spot right below her ear instead, giving a wet kiss before mumbling. “How bad?”

Azzi let out a breathy moan. “I…I…”

Azzi was feeling overstimulated as soon as Paige’s hand traveled under her shirt, kneading her breast again.

“How bad do you want me, Az?” Paige repeated, grinning in the crook of Azzi’s neck.

Azzi was squirming, arching her back a little so that she could bring her body closer to Paige. “I’m wet,” Azzi whimpered faintly, just enough for Paige to hear.

In rushed fashion, Paige slightly lifted herself and took off her own shirt before tugging on the hem of Azzi’s shirt to pull it off her as well. Immediately the curly brunette reacted, lifting her back so Paige could remove it and throw them off to the side.

They didn’t waste any time revelling in their exposed skin, the sexual act all too familiar to them. Paige quickly leaned down again, making out with Azzi more aggressively with a type of devotion, letting out breaths in between the spaces between their tongues which became entangled in each other. Azzi roamed her fingers around Paige’s chest before landing on her breasts, kneading them as she slowly grinded their cores together, a moan escaping the blonde’s lips from the touch,

And then Paige travelled her lips down to Azzi’s breast, nibbling and sucking on it while her free hand fondled with the other, squeezing at the nipple, making Azzi moan harder. After several seconds, Paige started to go lower, giving long, sensual strides of licks down across her abdomen, Azzi’s fingers gripping tighter on her hair as she took pleasure in the foreplay.

“You’re so beautiful,” Paige mumbled in between her licks.

“Hmm,” Azzi could only sigh.

Just as Paige reached above Azzi’s centre, she latched her fingers onto the waistband of Azzi’s shorts. Paige looked up, nonverbally asking if it was okay. To which Azzi nodded, lifting her bottom slightly so Paige could tear the piece of clothing away.

The blonde marvelled at the sight, Azzi’s moist centre enticing. Immediately Paige plunged her lips onto it, making out with it first before she started sucking and flicking her tongue around her folds. The rhythmic yet irregularity of it all made Azzi dizzy while Paige moaned into it.

“Fuck, Paige”

“Hmm, you taste so good, Az”

Just then, the blonde slowly inserted her middle and ring finger into Azzi, eliciting a long, vulnerable moan from her. Paige’s long fingers started thrusting in and out, the squelching of the moist centre resonating across the room, never missing a beat as Azzi continued to whimper erratically.

“You…feel…so…good” The younger woman voiced after every thrust.

Paige took satisfaction in Azzi’s pleasure, her fingers quickening with the momentum of their lust as sweat started forming on their bodies. The curly brunette began kneading her own breasts as Paige continued her rapid, hypnotic movements. Azzi was at her peak.

“Paige, I’m gonna–“

“I got you, baby, let go,” Paige reassured as her lips hovered above her centre, eyes on Azzi’s face who was letting out erratic moans, messing up Paige’s hair as her fingers squeezed harder. Paige fastened her tempo, the exhaustion of her arm muscles gratifying.

And at her peak, Azzi let out a tight cry as she came onto Paige’s fingers, a sigh of relief heaved by the blonde as she watched the younger woman pant in satisfaction.

After slowly removing her fingers out, Paige licked them clean before carefully crawling back up to Azzi. She gently pushed the curly brunette over to her side before wiggling herself in between the bed and Azzi’s back. The blonde was big-spooning her, planting light kisses on her shoulder while their legs tangled with each other.

“You okay?” Paige asked, looking at Azzi in anticipation.

The younger woman sighed with a smile before taking Paige’s free arm and draping it across her abdomen herself. “Yeah, I just…need a minute”.

“Okay,” Paige whispered, pulling the woman in closer to her body.

They stayed in comfortable silence for several seconds, Paige’s breath tickling the back of the woman in front of her as their bodies gave each other warmth.

Azzi started. “How do you do it?”

Paige paused. “How do I do what?”

“I dunno, you have this way of making me feel comfortable about myself. I kinda hate it”

Paige twitched her head, raising her eyebrows. “What ever happened to saying ‘thank you’?

Azzi let out a small laugh. “Sorry, I just- thank you. You make me feel…nice.”

The blonde eased. “I guess it’s…from experience”.

It went silent for a moment. It wasn’t surprising to Azzi if Paige wasn’t a stranger to sex and romance, probably even having a roster, for all she cares. But the nonchalance was disconcerting.

“Hmm,” Azzi’s tone was subtly disappointed.

“What?”

Azzi paused. “Do they tell you that, too? That you make them feel nice?”

The sudden bluntness to Azzi’s question caught the both of them off guard. But the curly brunette stood by it, sighing as her eyes wandered around her room. There was a small tug from the corner of Paige’s lips, tightening her embrace with the younger woman.

“Yeah, they do. They also tell me they don’t appreciate it when I mess with them at work. Even though I know they kinda like it. You know, I think they’re probably obsessed with me, I mean, I’ve caught them stalking me sometimes”

The curly brunette suddenly turned her body around, her expression in annoyance as Paige babbled sarcastically.

“I can’t stand you sometimes”

Paige just smiled smugly. “I know”.

The blonde pulled Azzi closer by the waist, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. The younger woman closed her eyes, savouring the sweet gesture as it made her feel important and cared for. But it didn’t take long before those thoughts were suddenly replaced with fear and anxiety. Just as Paige was about to lean towards her lips, Azzi lowered her head, her expression sorrowful.

“Hey, is it something I did?” Paige asked concerningly.

“No, it’s not you. It’s um…” Azzi hesitated, her reasoning falling short due to the fact that it harboured a lot more scarring memories which she didn’t intend to revisit just yet.

“It’s okay”. Paige could only pull her into a hug, not really knowing what was going through Azzi’s mind but intuitively understanding that it was better to give her comfort.

“I’m sorry,” Azzi muffled into her Paige’s bare chest.

“There’s nothing you need to apologise for, Az”

The curly brunette retracted her head, wanting to face Paige this time.

“Can you kiss me again?”

Paige let out a sigh through her nose, smiling with hooded eyes as an answer.

Their lips connected, this time more sweet and delicate. Paige held her tight, her touch consoling her. And soon the pair lulled themselves to sleep from the tiredness of the day.

[artie-mess]

[flugame-mp3]

what do you fucking mean that's how charlie dies. THAT'S HOW CHARLIE DIES??? i mean i know the show has a penchant for killing off every character who's not a winchester brother or an angel of thursday but good god. what the fuck. charlie was such a good and enjoyable recurring character, and she had such a fandom impact that i've seen, and she's only around for THREE SEASONS?? (sidebar: it's amazing she has the presence she does for only being around for a couple episodes in the long run!) but: was this necessary? and she just dies offscreen after her skills are utilized to progress the plot of decoding the book of the damned?? oh my god. what in the actual fuck. i'm finding myself getting genuinely very upset at her death. she did not fucking deserve that. and i can absolutely see why the fan response to her death is what it is now. completely fucking unjustified and throwaway and useless.

[remxedmoon]

so all you need to do right now is disappear.

HHHHAPPY ISATVERSARY EVERYONE. here’s redraws for every single battle cg in the game. 36 drawings this time around, with 11 of those being custom (though admittedly a good portion of those are edits). combined with the portrait redraws i made back in september, i’ve made 114 redraws for this project! jesus christ! just like those redraws, these are completely free to use!! as long as i’m credited and it’s not for commercial purposes, go wild!! do whatever you want!!!

no i didn’t make these for isat’s 1 year anniversary this is just wildly good timing.

i genuinely can’t fit all of these cgs in one post even with the 30 image limit on browser, but i’ll still try to fit Most of them below the cut (without making this post horrifically long), along with some notes that might be important 👍

okay! once again, i labeled all of the custom art as such in the drive(UPDATE. NNOT TRUE ANYMORE. reformatted file names to be easier to mod in auau. apologies!), but if you want a full list, the customs are hatless siffrin jackpot, bonnie jackpot, bonnie special attack, bigfrin attack, and a bunch of alts which are definitely not related to any projects i’ve been thinking about don’t worry about it. and out of those customs, only like. 3 of them are actually completely from scratch.

while i did my absolute best to keep the aspect ratios completely the same as the originals, there’s 3 exceptions that i just couldn’t get to work.

isabeau’s hair in his special attack cg wouldn’t fit in frame if i kept things completely accurate to the og, so i moved his cg down a bit. it shouldn’t cause any issues with modding or anything, it’ll just appear slightly lower than it does in game. alas…

isabeau’s sleeve and mirabelle’s hair made their jackpot sprites a little larger than the originals? i’m hoping this doesn’t have too much of an effect (since the jackpot sprites have inconsistent sizes) but i can’t test this myself unfortunately. aaa feel free to let me know on discord if any problems arise!!

i managed to fix these, so they aren’t going to cause problems now, but my original drawings for mirabelle and siffrin in the final attack scene were a pain in the ass to fix. mirabelle’s sprite was slightly too talk to fit in frame and siffrin’s hat whacked bonnie in the face while i was editing everyone together. i’m only mentioning this because it took like an hour and a half to fix them and finish the scene.

all that aside, these were a fucking BLAST to work on. apparently this ended up taking 57 hours over exactly 10 days. which is a little worrying if you do the math on that but somehow i have not burnt myself out. i will be doing enemies at some point!!! but probably not for a little bit. i think my friends will actually kill me if i don’t take a break.

once again, happy birthday isat. you’ve ruined my life and i wouldn’t have it any other way (silly).

also, on an actual serious note, this little timeloop game has genuinely changed my life for the better? you guys are probably sick of hearing it at this point (or maybe not, i don’t talk about myself That Much. i hope), but i was practically a ghost for about 2 years before joining this fandom. it’s a little surreal to suddenly have friends (plural!!!) and people who Care about me, or even know i exist, honestly. it’s weird!! in a good way!!!

i don’t think i would’ve ever come back to social media if this community wasn’t so welcoming. i’ve met a lot of really great people through this game!!! so, uh, thank you isat, i guess. here’s to another year.

[tangerineastronaut]

can you do a yunho reader thigh riding where shes his gf

Missed You | j.yunho

Pairing: Idol!Yunho x Nonceleb!Reader Genre: Smut/Fluff (MDNI) - mostly smut, very little fluff but still a main theme. Requested: Yes w.c. 3.5k Warnings: Thigh riding, established relationship, praise, slight degradation (nothing in a hateful way), size kink if you squint, namecalling, pet names, humping, I think that's it? If you notice any potentially triggering content not listed here please let me know. A/N: Hello lovelies ~ it feels so good to be back. I haven't written in a while but after browsing some of the amazing fanfic writers here it really made me miss it. Thank you to anon for my very first request! Also, this is poorly edited so please don't mind any errors. I will likely edit it in the future if I find any. Please excuse my rusty skills as well, I promise I'll get better! Requests: Open ~ please see the guidelines for requesting here.

5 months. 

For 5 months, your gorgeous golden retriever boyfriend had been gone on tour, and you were expected to endure a meal with him and the members. They’d landed just hours ago and were no doubt exhausted, but Yunho looked as unfairly beautiful as ever. There were shadows under his eyes and he definitely seemed to be craving home, but the moment he’d spotted you when you walked into the restaurant…god. His tongue had slid over his lower lip, likely thinking about the way you taste, long fingers raking down his pants as if to stop the tingling spreading through him. He was wearing casual clothes, just a hoodie and a pair of jeans, but nothing could hide the art of his figure. Tall and lean, toned where it counts. His broad shoulders, his chest and stomach that you loved peppering with kisses. And those thighs. 

You’d never really considered how sexy a man’s thighs were until you’d met Jeong Yunho. Muscular and thick, perfect for sitting on when he was in the mood to game for hours. Fine with you—was there anything more fun than teasing your lanky gamer boyfriend in the middle of a match? Squirming in his lap, making him fumble the controller and lose until you were bent in half, said boyfriend sinking into you?

Dinner. 

Dinner dinner dinner. 

You were proud of the boys and knew this was important, so despite wanting to jump his bones, you kept yourself in check and listened to the bickering between Woo and Jongho, beginning to wonder if Seonghwa had opted to dye his hair white to hide the grey caused by his children. 

You were about to scold them yourself to give the poor Captain and His Wife™ a break, but a warm hand sliding up your thigh made the words die in your throat in an embarrassingly high pitched sound. You coughed to cover it up—thank god for Woo as no one was paying attention to you—and glanced up at Yunho.

“I missed you baby,” he hummed, low enough that only you could hear. His pretty lips formed a smirk that wasn’t as sweet as his words. You smiled up at him, placing your smaller hand on top of his and squeezing, silently begging him to leave you the fuck alone before you drag him to the bathroom. 

“Missed you too,” you reply, making a visible effort to turn back to the conversation you weren’t part of. 

You’d hoped he was just being coy, teasing you a bit, but he apparently wasn’t satisfied with your reaction as his hand slipped inward. He wasn’t far above your knee, but it didn’t matter, making you clamp your legs together and grip his wrist beneath the table. The smug bastard smiled, hiding it in his glass as he took a sip of water. 

It was irritating, the mere fact that his large hand spanned much of your upper leg making you squirm. It was far too easy for him to rile you up, while he managed to maintain composure most of the time. You bit the inside of your cheek and released his wrist, your own hand moving to his lap. Yunho stiffened a bit, but that was it. You spread your fingers over his thigh, squeezing once before gently moving your hand side to side. 

When he turned to San and casually asked about next week’s practice schedule, it felt like a slap to the face. 

You’ve been dating for 3 years. You’ve fucked countless times on many, many surfaces. But when your fingers slid toward his crotch and found his cock already fully erect, you tore your hand away as though it had burned you. The bickering had died down, so to hide the flush on your face you took a sip of water. Yunho hadn’t even flinched, still conversing, unbothered, and wearing that cocky little grin. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

You almost felt guilty about the buzz you felt as everyone began to say goodbye, promising to rest before work started up again next week. You could’ve sworn Yunho was purposefully talkative tonight, as you knew damn well he didn’t care whether or not Yeosang’s apartment had more than one elevator. By the time he was willing to humor you, you were all but vibrating next to the company’s black SUV, the driver waiting much more patiently than you. 

Yunho had the audacity to ask if you were ready to go, his warm hand sliding over the small of your back. You nodded so quickly you were almost dizzy. 

The SUV was quite tall, and you were…quite not. So when he opened the door for you, you prepared to climb inside ungracefully, but your boyfriend placed both hands on your hips and lifted you into the vehicle. You had no time to react, as he was climbing in after you. You prepared to shuffle across the seat to give him space, but he easily caught your wrist and yanked you across his lap. One hand gathered both of your wrists, the other resting calmly over your ass. You both glanced over at the same time to make sure the divider was closed. 

“Someone’s horny,” he chuckled warmly, the hand on your ass moving in a slow circle. You frowned, tugging your wrists out of his grasp so you could sit up. Your hands found his shoulders and you swung a leg over his waist, straddling him but not letting your full weight rest against his cock just yet. 

“Jeong fucking Yunho—I have been waiting 5 months for you and not just so you can grope me in a restaurant,” you grumble, fisting his hoodie. 

“Technically speaking, all I did was touch your thigh. You, however, grabbed my—”

You shut him up with a kiss, mushing your mouth against his so hard you could feel your teeth pressing the inside of your lips. Yunho’s large hands found your waist, squeezing, trying to pull you down against his aching groin. You resist by using your knees, the grunt of irritation escaping him making you laugh.

“What’s funny?” Yunho asked, sucking your lower lip between his teeth. The shock made you gasp, and he used the opportunity to buck off of the seat of the car, hips meeting the plush underside of your ass. 

Unwilling to let him win whatever the hell this was, you moved a knee between you, coming dangerously close to his clothed cock. 

“Nothing, just my desperate boy acting like a dog,” you hum breathlessly. “All worked up, trying to call me out as the slut here.”

“You fucking—” Yunho grumbled. He wrapped both arms around you, crushing you against his chest and leaving you no choice but to straddle him again. This time, he hugged you tight; you could hardly breathe as he rutted against you so hard that it made you squeak. 

You wanted to do more than pitifully submit, but you thanked the gods you’d decided to wear a dress, as each dry thrust pushed his cock right against your clothed clit. It was shameful how needy you felt, already able to feel a second heartbeat between your legs, the familiar ache as your cunt woke up from its 5 month hibernation.

“Thought about you every night,” Yunho groaned, his breath coming out in pants as he did all he could to create friction between your bodies. “You have no idea, baby. ‘m gonna fuck you until we pass out.”

“Yeah?” you manage to weakly spit out, your fingers curling into the material of his hoodie. You knew you should do more, give more, but your head was spinning, mouth dry from moments of contact after so long. 

“Yeah. You’re gonna make those sounds for me, just like you did over the phone. Want you to say my name,” he says, his head falling back against the seat. “Fucking pillows…nothing looks as pretty as you.”

“P-Pillows?” you mumble, pulling back enough to look at him, his hips still working against your body. He licks his lips, eyes squinted as he looks over your face, nodding. 

“Mm.”

“You…you fucked a pillow?”

“Mhm. ‘s soft and I can hold it down just like you, pretend it’s my girl taking me so good,” he rambles, not an ounce of shame in his tone. 

Fuck. 

You’d used fingers and toys, nothing doing what he could do for you. You assumed he used his hand—knew it, actually, based on the sparse dirty phone calls you’d managed to have. But the idea of Yunho, your gigantic boyfriend, desperately fucking against a pillow because it reminds him of you…it did something to you, woke something up that you were not proud of. You wanted to see it. 

“Gonna hurt you…”

“H-huh?” you stammer, your cheeks flushing red despite your current state as you were caught daydreaming about Yunho and the poor pillow.

“It’s gonna hurt, baby. Need you wet,” he breathes. He reaches his hand between you, catching you off guard as he swipes beneath your panties, rubbing the sticky wetness of your cunt. You let out a broken moan, your hole clenching around nothing like muscle memory as you think of those long fingers pumping into you. 

“I’m wet Yuyu,” you say, silently praying he gives you something, even just a finger to the first knuckle. But Yunho shakes his head, hands settled on your hips. 

“Not enough…I’m telling you it’s going to hurt. Need you to cum first.”

“When we get home—”

“Now, y/n,” he says. His voice isn’t mean, not even commanding like it can be, but it still sends a shiver down your spine. 

“O-Okay,” you mumble shyly, glancing back as if the driver might decide to open the divider. He didn’t, probably knowing better. “Use your fingers.”

“No,” Yunho mumbles. He easily manipulates your body until you’re perched atop one thigh. “Like this. Love it when you ride me.”

You exhale, situating yourself until your cunt is pressed against his jeans. Your hands tighten their grip on his shoulders, and you meet his eyes as you begin to move, grinding against his leg. Yunho’s mouth opens, a gasped curse leaving his mouth as you lick your lips. 

“Faster baby,” he murmurs, eyes trailing over you as you rut against him, “want you desperate. Want you to whine.”

“Fuck,” you say to no one, rolling your hips forward. Yunho grips the seat on either side of you both, fingers twitching like he wants to grab you and move you himself. But he just watches, licking his lips and nodding as you drive yourself to the edge on his thigh. 

You feel him flex, the hardened muscle beneath you offering a firmness that makes you shudder. There’s a hotness between your legs as your juices coat his thigh, creating a wet patch on his jeans. After so many months, you’re sensitive, but unfamiliar with the movement as you struggle to hit the mark. 

You falter, pausing to catch your breath. 

“Don’t stop, baby,” Yunho says, his voice almost a whine. Your head falls forward on his shoulder, shame making your face warm. 

“It’s been a while,” you mumble. “Sorry, yu.”

“Want me to help? Hm? Need me to make you feel good?” he whispers, lips catching your cheek. You nod weakly, fisting his hoodie again as his warm hands move to your waist, squeezing once before he begins to move you. Your body is like putty to him, and he grinds you down against his thigh like a doll. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks, burying his face against your hair. You nod, unable to say much. He does it just right, somehow knowing your body better than you do.

Yunho reaches between you, hooking his thumb into the front of your panties and tugging them to the side. You gasp as your bare clit makes contact with his jeans, able to feel just how much you’d soaked through them. The thought makes you buck against him, catching the friction yourself with a choked gasp. 

“That’s it, baby,” Yunho says, one hand going back to the seat while the other keeps your panties pulled to the side. “Like that. Let me see you use me to make that pretty cunt wet.”

“Fuck, Yunho,” you whimper, your hips beginning to move in a steady rhythm. He hums in approval, biting his lower lip hard as he watches you carefully. You groan and wrap both arms around his shoulders, squeezing your eyes closed as you grind hard against his thigh. The scent of his cologne is stronger now that he’s sweating, the smell making you dizzy and needy. You lower your head to his throat and kiss him there, tasting the saltiness of his skin while your tongue leaves a wet trail.

“There she is,” he murmurs, tilting his head to the side. You whimper and mouth at his skin, nipping and sucking as you work yourself to destruction on him. He groans as you latch onto his pulse point, using his free hand to grip your hair and pull you off of him.

“Be good,” he chuckles softly. You bite your lower lip, eyes wide and brows tight, hands moving up to scratch gently at the nape of his neck. 

All it takes is a few seconds of you staring at him like that, still rutting helplessly against his thigh, needing to mark him up. Yunho sighs and leans back to get his hands between you, grabbing both his hoodie and shirt and tugging them over his head. His chest and stomach are revealed, your hands immediately palming at his skin. He nods and runs his thumb over your lower lip. 

“Go ahead baby,” he hums. “Nothing above my collar bones, yeah?”

You nod obediently and kiss him softly, his lips plush and warm as always. You want to cry at the sensation of coming home, despite the fact that you were currently humping your hot boyfriend’s thigh during the longest car ride to your apartment ever. 

You go for his shoulders first, you bite down and get your hips back into rhythm, relishing in his hiss of pain. Your teeth leave marks as you let go, breath hot against his skin. 

Your nails leave half moon crescents as they work with your teeth, leaving a trail of love bites over the expanse of his chest. You’ve momentarily forgotten the goal here, though Yunho has no trouble reminding you. When you go in to kiss him again, he catches a fistful of your hair once more. 

“You don’t want my cock going in like this,” he murmurs, free hand gently smacking your thigh. “Running out of time, babygirl.”

“I’m wet, Yunho,” you whine, bouncing in irritation. “Jus’ wanna kiss you. I can take it.”

Yunho stares at you for a few seconds, eyes trailing over your form where you’ve paused your movement. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you huff, rolling your eyes. Since when can you not take his cock? He was huge, sure, but it’s not like you’ll break. 

“How much?”

“What?”

“How much?” he repeats, his hand slipping between you again. You try not to react as his thumb goes beneath your sticky panties, easily sliding over your swollen clit. 

“All of it,” you scoff, unsure of what he was saying. Yunho smiles. 

“No, I mean how much? How long can you take it? I’m not gonna stop, baby,” he says roughly. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Gonna fuck you until you can’t move…still gonna fuck you until you ask me to stop.”

You pause at this, licking your lips and jolting at the heat sprouting from between your thighs. 

“I-I can take it still,” you mumble, grinding down against his hand. He moves it, tugging your panties again, the cooled wetness of his jeans making you shiver. 

“I’m gonna take my fill, baby,” he says, watching you move against his thigh. “Been practicing. Edging myself for months. Gotta make sure I use that pretty pussy until it’s wrecked and full of my cum.”

You squeak, your brain trying to think of a good response to that. Yunho chuckles and lifts his knee, making you involuntarily buck against him. 

“You gonna shut up now and make sure you can do that for me? Get that little cunt wet enough so I can use it as much as I need to?” 

“Y-yes,” you stammer. His dark eyes drop to see the result of your grinding, the wetness beneath you. 

“Good girl,” Yunho nods. “Come on. Harder baby, need you to make a mess on my jeans.”

You do as he asks, grinding hard against his thigh, biting your lower lip as he alternates, flexing and relaxing the muscle beneath you. You move your hand to his and push it away, tugging your panties aside in one hand and gripping his shoulder with the other, looking down with parted lips because holy shit—you don’t think you’ve ever been this wet. 

He feels so fucking good, there’s so much more you need from him, want to do for him, but you promised you’d cum. So you rub and grind and clench your teeth until you’re mumbling incoherently, much to his delight. 

“That’s it, that’s my good girl. So fucking pretty and stupid when she gets desperate, can’t understand a word you’re saying,” he says, hands finding your waist. You sob and begin clumsily rutting against him, no rhythm whatsoever, just desperation and chasing physical sensations. Yunho loves to see it, coaxing you over the edge the closer you get. 

“That all you’ve been thinking about, baby? All your holes getting stuffed? Bet you miss waking me up with my cock in your throat.”

You whimper and nod, eyes shut tight as your orgasm remains just out of reach. You need him to do it, to finish you off, you’re not sure what that would be, just that you want him to help. 

“M-More yu, gimme more,” you whine softly, mouth open like a dog as you pant. 

“More? More what? I haven’t given you anything, babygirl,” he chuckles. You’re not in the mood to play with words, but Yunho suddenly grabs your chin, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. You feel the burn of tears as you squirm and rut, his eyes full of satisfaction. 

“You still gonna ask for more when I’m stuffed inside you?” he asks roughly. You nod eagerly, but Yunho only smirks. 

“Knew you would, baby. Such a fucking slut for me. I tell you to ride me and here you are, too needy to realize we would’ve been home half an hour ago.”

“H-Huh?” you mumble out, that knot in your stomach untwisting. “F-Fuck, ‘m… g-gonna—”

“Gonna what? Ruin my jeans with your pretty pussy? All so I can get my cock inside as soon as I get you home?”

“Yunho,” you sob, a gasp on your lips as you begin to cum, eyes squeezing shut. 

You ride out one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had, mouth open, nothing coming out but pitiful squeaks and choked sobs. Yunho watches, lip caught between his teeth, holding you tight as you briefly leave this plane of existence in his arms.

“So fucking beautiful,” he breathes when you finally open your eyes, releasing a mixture between a cry and a sigh. “My good girl. I’m the luckiest man on this planet, baby.”

You choose to breathe rather than respond, but he’s fine with that, hugging you to his bare chest and cupping the back of your head. 

“I love you so much, you know that?” he says, words muffled as he speaks against your hair. “Can’t wait to get you home. Gonna show you how much I missed you.”

He runs his fingers through your damp hair. You know you look wrecked already, and you’ll be shocked if you last more than one round tonight. But you’ll try for him.

“M-Missed you too, yuyu,” you weakly reply. “Why…why aren’t we home?”

Yunho laughs, brushing your hair back to kiss your temple. 

“Arranged for us to ride around for a bit beforehand. Figured one of us would cave at the restaurant,” he admits. You look up at him, the stupid boyish grin on his face making you smile. 

“I love you,” you huff. He leans down, lips soft and unhurried against yours for what feels like the first time that night. He tastes no different, feels no different than he did 5 months ago, and it livens you up a bit, much to his amusement. 

“I love you too, pretty.”

[underthetree845]

chuuya taking his hat off to hide when he kisses his partner 🤭

Hello saturn lovely! Sorry this took me so long to finish TwT I love the prompt, but as you know writer's block hit me kinda hard the second semester of school so over the summer I've been trying to get back into the swing of posting once in a while!

Hope you enjoy <3 thank you for the request! _

Kiss Me Hard Before You Go

Nakahara Chuuya/Reader (oneshot request)

cws: fem! reader, established relationship, bungou stray dogs s5 spoilers, meursault arc spoilers, fluff, hurt/comfort kinda? there was a little hurt, reuniting, airport reunion, ada dazai, reader cries about 2.5k words summary: Chuuya disappeared on a business trip for three whole days with no explanation- and no one would tell you why. Now he's returned to japan and back in your arms. a/n: This is my last fic for the summer before school starts aaa qwq I'm glad I was able to finish it before the semester starts though! *sigh* am I really incapable of writing something like this without accidentally creating so much plot? Anyways, hope you enjoy! <3 divider credit: (x) (x) ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ Chuuya had never considered himself to be a very possessive man; or a possessive boyfriend, for that matter. Protective, sure, but how could anyone expect him not to be? He understood, probably better than most, the risks that came with even so much as associating with a person in his position. It made Chuuya’s stomach churn unpleasantly to even imagine putting you in any sort of danger, so he used his position (along with the power and assets that came with it) to take certain preventative measures. The penthouse you shared was equipped with state of the art security, a technological system truly fit for an executive of the Port Mafia. Additionally, in case you ever needed to travel long distances without him, Chuuya often kept a trusted chauffeur on call. This individual also happened to be a professionally trained underground bodyguard of his personal selection. Even so, Chuuya knew you had a good head on your shoulders. He trusted that you would try to keep yourself out of trouble, or call for him at the first sign of it. It didn’t matter if he was on the road, halfway through a private meeting, or in the middle of pummeling down an enemy organization. Chuuya had always been a man with his priorities set straight. Not even Mori’s notifications were set to come through on silent mode. Coming home to you at the end of the day, allowing you to soothe away the crease between his brows, your voice uttering sweet nothings against the shell of his ear. You had become his lifeline, irreversibly carved your name into every cell of his body. He’d do anything to erase your pain, and it was making his heart break more than anything to know that he was the cause of the salty tears now streaming over your lash line. Chuuya did his best to hold back an ‘oof’ when you threw your frame into his own, burying your sobs in the crook of his neck. He was immediately overwhelmed with the scent of your perfume, the familiar feeling of your body against his own, the softness of the sweater you wore, and the glimmer that never seemed to escape your eyes. The red colored contacts from earlier had given Chuuya one hell of a headache, which only added to the pressure from taking off and being stuck in one of the mafia’s smallest private jets with the most insufferable jackass he’d ever met and some hair dye obsessed casino manager passed out on one of the couches. Chuuya’s gloved fingers almost trembled as they gripped the fabric of your shirt. He lifted a hand to cradle the back of your head while the other remained planted firmly on your lower back.

Sakaguchi Ango, if Chuuya remembered correctly, stood a few yards away. He simply observed the situation from afar, as if he dared not insert himself into the scene. A government agent whom Dazai used to maintain his connection with the outside world. Ango stood with one hand folded neatly over the other behind his back, the faint ghost of a smile residing behind his glasses as he watched Dazai reunite with his fellow agency members. The brunette walked on a crutch, but the uncharacteristically tired look in his eyes brightened ever so slightly when he was swarmed by his coworkers. Chuuya continued to hold you close, patiently waiting for your sobs to die down enough for you to be able to speak coherently. He loosened his grip slightly, removing one of his leather gloves behind your back and bringing that same hand up to cup your face. A whisper of your name left his lips, and your teary eyes finally refocused to meet the warmth of his own. “Chuuya… how could you just leave?” your voice cracked; he could see the hurt in your eyes. Guilt crept into his chest, eyebrows knitting together as you subconsciously leaned into his palm. This was exactly the sort of thing Chuuya promised himself he’d never do. You were the absolute number one priority in his life. There was no doubt in his mind; he didn’t want there to be any doubt in yours either. “I know, Doll, ‘m sorry, it was never my intention…” he muttered, allowing you to rest your hands on his chest. “I know that’s a shit excuse, but I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” A beat of silence passed, the indistinct chatter of the agency fell on deaf ears as you zoned in on the man in front of you. His breath, the way his eyes searched your expression, how you could once again feel the warmth of his skin against your own. “You’re not hurt, are you?” your voice was pricked with concern, hands gentle as you cupped his jaw and turned his head from side to side. Chuuya let out a breath, fondness flickering in his irises at your concern. “Barely a scratch,” he murmured, and you seemed to accept his answer. “Chuuya,” you started, and his gaze locked onto yours. He voiced your name in response. “I need you to promise me something, please?” “Anything.” 

You bit your lip. Your mind told you it was a selfish request. You understood, probably better than most, how unpredictable your boyfriend’s line of work could be. But you had accepted it as an adequate price to pay for his love when the two of you started seeing each other, even more so when you moved in together. He was yours, you believed it with every fiber of your being. Chuuya had told enough stories of his old work partner for you to gather that the two had never exactly been the chummiest of pals. So the fact that they cooperated for this mission must’ve meant that it couldn’t have been a minor dilemma. You understood why Chuuya made the decision he did, and that it was probably just as difficult on him. Albeit, that didn’t make your feelings any less real. Your heart reminded you of the unconditional love and comfort that Chuuya always offered you. You knew he’d never intentionally hurt your feelings, especially not without talking it out and making up for it in some way afterward. “Doll…?” he barely breathed, giving you all the space you needed to voice what was on your mind. You took a deep breath. “Don’t… please don’t scare me like that again,” your voice wavered as you spoke, “Everything on the news is scary. And every time I watch it all I can think about is the fact that you’re out there.” You took a moment to glance at the group of Armed Detective Agency members on the airport runway to your left. One of the so-called terrorists you heard about on the news stood amongst the group about ten feet away from where you watched. The world was confusing, and scary, but there was a certain security in your heart that told you as long as you had Chuuya by your side, everything would be okay. “First you’re leaving before sunrise and staying out late on special missions, and I get it, I really do…” you felt a lump beginning to form in your throat, threatening to make you choke over your words, “but then you just leave on a business trip to Europe without so much as a ‘goodbye, I’ll be home soon’? And I have to find out from a call from your boss? I didn’t- I still don’t understand what’s happening. Do you know how scared I was? That I might not ever see you again?” Chuuya’s thumb swiped away the teardrop that ran down your cheek, his eyes trailing over your expression. “You’re right, it’s not fair… I don’t think I could ever apologize enough,” he began, his hold on you tightening slightly, “All that I can ask is for you to understand. I can explain everything to you when we get home. And I promise, I’ll do my best to not leave you in the dark so suddenly. It was an urgent mission, but it must have been scary. You’ll never have to feel like that again, not if I can help it.” Chuuya’s face softened, the corners of your lips curving up slightly at his sincerity as he cupped your cheek. “Shit… you deserve so much better.” You stood there for a moment, just breathing. Soaking in each other’s presence as your heartbeat gradually fell back to its usual pace.

“My my, Slug, is this the lovely lady you were so eager to get back to?” a voice chimed from your left, and you turned your head to face the man at the same time Chuuya snapped his head in that direction. Your boyfriend clicked his teeth, pressing your body closer to his own. “What’s it to you, huh, Dazai?” Chuuya was clearly trying to suppress his irritation. He was doing especially well, considering the fact that he had been holed up next to Dazai on an airplane for the past fourteen hours. “I’m just trying to acquaint myself,” the man went on, a grin playing on his lips despite Chuuya’s glare, “As a responsible owner, I should at least make sure my dog is in good hands.” You tilted your head slightly, and Chuuya sucked in a breath. “You’re treading on some pretty thin ice, Mackerel,” he growled through gritted teeth, “Watch what you say around my girl.” The taller man only took a step forward, his eyes glittering in amusement, a sharp contrast to the hollowed out, almost dead look he carried earlier. “Oh? Holding back your more vulgar language around the lady?” Dazai hummed with mild intrigue, “Perhaps my dog is being well taken care of.” You simply stood and watched with intrigue, the interaction clearly more complex than distinguishable at first glance. Despite their constant verbal jabs and ostentatious insults toward each other, there was a sense of familiarity between the two that was almost palpable to you. They bounced off each other, knowing exactly which buttons to press and which ones to avoid. It was probably a welcome change of tone in contrast to what they had just been through. Your gaze flickered between the two once more, and you couldn’t help but notice how the tension in Chuuya’s shoulders had been released. “Dazai-san?” your voice was level, and both of the men fell silent to give you their attention. You looked at your beloved, then to his ex-partner, then Chuuya, then Dazai again. Mirth swam in your eyes. “I want to thank you for making sure Chuuya was able to return home safely today. Truly, I cannot thank you enough.” You gave a slight bow of your head, and Chuuya looked like he wanted to protest. For once, Dazai didn’t immediately produce a response; he fell silent at your sentiment. This time, a gentler smile curved onto his lips. “Please spare me, Miss,” Dazai began, “Truth be told, I don’t believe I could have made it out without Chuuya’s help either.” The redhead raised his eyebrows. "I'm passing him into your capable hands now. I trust you’ll take good care of him?” Dazai seemed satisfied with the chuckle that slipped from your throat. “You have nothing to worry about,” you replied, “And I trust that your detective agency will treat you well?” “They always have.” Chuuya let out a breath, sharing a look with his partner before turning to face a black passenger vehicle that had pulled up a short distance away. Tinted windows that prevented anyone outside from peeking in; glass, body, and tires that were all bulletproof. It was one of the mafia’s. 

“C’mon Dollface, we should get going. Don’t wanna be here when the press shows up, and the boss is probably dying for me to give him a call,” Chuuya nodded his head in the direction of the car; you brought your hand up to give a small wave to Dazai and the handful of agency members further away who glanced in your direction. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in, allowing your head to rest on Chuuya’s shoulder as you made your way to the car. You felt like you could finally breathe properly again. The door unlocked with a quiet click. Chuuya swung open the door of the vehicle with his non gloved hand and stepped aside to allow you to enter first. “...Chuu?” you started quietly, taking a step closer to where he stood. “Hm?” he raised an eyebrow. You placed your hands loosely on the back of his neck, fingers intertwined; Chuuya responded by resting his hands on your hips, listening intently.  You could have held more of a grudge. He disappeared overnight without a word, and no one would tell you why. You’d been on edge for three days straight. Hardly even sleeping through the night as you kept up with the news almost obsessively, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. To be able to hold Chuuya close again so easily felt almost surreal. A soft smile creeped into your expression, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you tilted your head to the side. Chuuya’s breath stilled. “I’m just…” you paused for a moment, your voice pouring with sincerity, “I’m really glad you’re back, and that you’re safe.” Chuuya paused for another moment, studying you carefully as an equally tender look came to his face. He glanced to the side for a moment, and let out a disgruntled huff upon discovering that Dazai’s head was still tilted in your direction; he kept a curious eye on the situation from several meters away. Your boyfriend pursed his lips for a moment before snaking one of his hands further around your waist. He plucked his pork pie hat off the crown of his head, and before you had the chance to realize what was going on, you were already being gracefully tilted backwards, forcing your hands to grip onto the lapel of Chuuya’s jacket for support. Everything seemed to still the moment he slotted his lips into yours, holding his hat up to act as a shield from certain prying eyes. You didn’t hesitate to pull him in closer, your lashes fluttering shut as you savored what you felt like you had been missing for an eternity. Chuuya’s eyes were shut in concentration, his heart thrumming with delight at the familiar sensation of your lips molded against his own. Chuuya didn’t pull away until you were both light-headed from the lack of air. Cheeks flooded with warmth, looking at each other as if you were the only two people in the entire world. “I missed you so fucking much, you know that?” Chuuya’s voice was low as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. The two of you stood straight, lingering in each other’s embrace for a moment longer. Chuuya lightly tossed his hat inside the car and once more gestured with his arm out for you to enter first. The satisfied smile on his lips morphed into one of slight perplexion when you didn’t show a reaction, raising your fingertips to brush over your lips. “Chuuya?” you questioned, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He replied with your name, all the more puzzled when you let out an incredulous chuckle. “Since when are your teeth so sharp?” 

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ a/n: Thank you so much for reading! Have a day/night/morning/evening as lovely as yourself. tagging: @judasgot-it (I noticed that I wrote down that I agreed to tag you for chuuya fics but I can't seem to remember why?? TwT please tell me if this is incorrect! Thank you <3)

[imsilay]

I love your stalker König, have you considered writing about him kidnapping the reader?

Kidnapping them, locking them in his home so that when he comes back from his missions he can play “house” and “make love to his little wife”. Age gap is also always so good 🩷

IT WAS ON MY MIND BUT WHEN YOU REQUESTED IT I HAD TO WRITE ilysm <3

SOAR

NSFW! mdni +18, cw: kidnapping, obsessive behavior, fem!reader, König is a fucking delusional, riding, fingering.

word count: 2k

summary: Your sweet captor König fucking you after coming back to home from a long mission.

next part here

art cr: yashk_pucyet on twt

An ominous whistle echoed through the hall as he made his way to the front door of his apartment. The way he walked, his hands on his pockets and long steps, told how delighted he was to finally be back home. Other soldiers were already at the bar, celebrating their victory. But for him it was different. He didn’t wanted alcohol and woman. He wanted you. That was why he was rushing to home. He couldn’t wait to see his sweet wife, to worship his prize, to use his pet. He was aching to have you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist as he did basically everything in the house. He was clingy yes. He knew it but didn’t care. You were his already. So that meant he could do anything he wanted with you.

He already had his keys when he arrived at the door. Impatiently unlocking the door and kicking his shoes off. He closed and locked the door. A wont. “I’m back meine Königin.” he said not too loudly. He wouldn’t want to startle you because it was midnight and he knew you didn’t like loud noises. He walked through living room, it was designed simple; a couch and a tv unit with some plants, he could buy better but it was safe if it was small and basic. The door of your shared bedroom opened as he decided to stay silent in case you were sleeping. His heart hammer his chest when he saw your sleeping form in his bed. the sheets covered some of your body but the way your pajama pants was slid up exposing your soft thigh made his head spin.

See? He didn’t need any alcohol, you were intoxicating enough for him. “Meine Königin.” he purred as he quickly took of his gear and other clothes until he was just in his boxers. His mask was thrown away for him to find tomorrow. He climbed on the bed next to you. His massive body took the majority of the space but he wasn’t complaining. This way you were more close with him.

He gently turned your body towards him and took a sharp breath when he saw you wasn’t wearing any bra. “Nein, i should let you sleep. I don’t want my wife to be mad at me.” he mumbled as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto his chest. “I missed you so much, meine Königin.” he whispered and kissed your cheek. You clinged to his body unconsciously for more warmth. The way your body pressed against his -especially the feeling of your breasts underneath your t-shirt- made him want to take you there but he has to be patient. Until you wake up and notice his presence.

Well… He wasn’t a patient man. Not after witnessing how easily can people die. If he wanted something, he had to have it right then. That was why he kidnapped you. You, his innocent little girl, so young and naive. It wasn’t hard to gain your trust, you loved everyone. He just waited until you were independent from your family and had your own life. New friends, new neighbors, new job… It all made you feel like you were in a dream. Everything was too perfect. Until one day you heard a loud noise in your house then everything went black. That was when he took you for himself. The first year was like hell. You were constantly trying to escape, breaking everything in the house and throwing fits. But could you really do anything to harm him? That mountain of a man? He could kill everyone who was in his way. And unfortunately the destination was you. It was almost pitiful that how desperate he was for you. He didn’t really hurt or hit you. Even when you tried to escape he just found you and brought you back to his house. In his words “Our home.”

“Maus.” he purred as his hand slide underneath your t-shirt caressing your waist. His lips inches away from yours aching to capture them. Your eyes opened slowly when you felt and heard him. “I’m home.” he mumbled as he brushed his lips against your cheek. When you finally processed what was going on you tried to move away immediately. “Let go of me!” you scowled and pushed him by his chest. He chuckled lightly and pulled you back to your position on his chest. “The harder you push me, the harder i will pull you back.” he whispered and kissed your cheek. “As much as i love your spirit, i’m tired, Maus.” his voice was giving away how tired he was. Yet there was more. You knew it. “What do you want from me?” you mumbled as you stopped squirming. Your heart was beating like crazy, you knew you had no chance against him. “I want you to love me. But i know it’s too much to ask. I don’t deserve you, meine Königin.” your heart ache for a moment. But then you remembered that he was your captor. Your heart filled with rage again. He smiled softly and caressed your waist. “But you know the other thing i want.” his hand squeezed your waist and his lips brushed against your chin. His lips kissing you wherever he could reach, but your lips.

He still haven’t kissed you since he kidnapped you. He would fuck you until you can’t remember your name but that was it. He told you the reason why he didn’t kissed you during a vulnerable moment of his. He was listening to your heartbeat after a nightmare and speaking to you even if you just caressed his hair and didn’t answered him. “I want to kiss you so bad, Maus. I really do. But i don’t want to ruin you. I’m just a pathetic man who is trying to make you love me. So, i want you to kiss me when you love me.” that was his sweet words before he eat you out. Ironic, isn’t it?

A soft sigh escaped from your lips when he kissed your neck and his hand down your body. “I want you to ride me. I want you to sit on my cock like it’s your throne, meine Königin.” he whispered as he grounded his hard on against your clothed cunt. You whimpered when you felt his hard cock against your stomach. He was away from home for a month and you haven’t since done anything for yourself. So you were already wet for him. “You should take care of your husband~” he purred. “You’re not my husband. You’re just a psycho.” you moaned as he kissed the sensitive skin of your neck. “I suggest you to choose your words wisely, Maus.” he mumbled and bit your shoulder as a warning. “And how could you deny me when you’re this wet f’me, hm?” he chuckled lightly after pushing his fingers into your panties making you shudder and moan. His fingers found your clit and started rubbing it slowly. Making you wetter and ready for him. Your head dropped to his shoulder and small moans escaped from your lips. He groaned when your hot breath hit his neck. His neck was the most sensitive spot on his body. Were you doing it on purpose? Knowing how he cum in his pants when you kissed him on the neck first time?

“Maus stop- i want to cum inside you.” he mumbled and with a quick maneuver you were sitting on top of his crotch. He groaned and his hips buck upwards to meet yours. The thin fabric of your underwears did nothing. He still felt how wet and warm you were. You also whined and rock your hips. You were so desperate for a release and he was the only thing in hand. Your attempts to satisfy yourself was failed because he made you addicted to his big and thick cock, your small fingers weren’t enough. One of your hands rested on his chest as you tugged down your underwear with other. “Scheiße, Maus.” his cock twitched in his boxers at the sight. He knew you wanted him as much as he do. And it made him go feral. But he managed to stay still and watched you. You were aching for his cock but it wouldn’t fit if you weren’t opened enough. Your gaze dropped to his hands on your waist. You took one of his hands and he raised an eyebrow with curiosity but he let you lead it whenever you wanted. You took his middle and ring finger inside your mouth and moaned. Your head spun from just thinking about having it inside your tight cunt. He felt like he was having a heart attack when you sucked and covered his thick and lengthy fingers with your salvia. He let you do all the work as you grounded against his clad cock and wet his fingers. When you took his fingers out of your mouth and gave him a desperate look, he knew what you wanted. So he stuck his fingers into your dripping hole making you whimper and buck your hips. “Just like that, Maus. Ride my fingers.” he fingered your little hole as his free hand supported you by your waist. “So verdammt süß.” he hissed and picked up the pace. His fingers effortlessly finding all the spots in your tight cunt. “You’re so tight, Maus. Did you wait for me like a good wife, hm?” he mumbled as he felt you were close and added another finger. You whined and your walls clenched around his thick fingers. You cum unannounced and he groaned when you cum with just his fingers. “König.” you whimpered and your hands grabbed his forearms when he pulled his fingers out. “I know it’s not enough meine Königin.” he cooed and lifted you up a little to free his precum leaking cock. He didn’t even had the patience to take off his boxers fully. He positioned you on his cock and let you take it in slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. He groaned when your walls sucked him in greedily. “Guess someone missed me.” he mumbled and caressed your hips while you sit on his cock. “Here. Right here is where you belong, Maus.” he grabbed you by hips and made you bounce on his cock. His head tipped back and he let out a low groan. He was living for this moment. When he’s on a mission he would count the days until he meet you again. His beautiful wife.

This position allowed him to be deep inside you and it made you even more desperate. Your moans and whines filled the room as he mercilessly bounced you up and down on his cock. The tip of his cock hit your cervix and you whimpered. “König it’s too deep.” you dug your nails into his forearms. He groaned and picked up the pace. It wasn’t like you were riding him anymore. He was slamming you down on his cock with his giant strength. “Slow down!” you whimpered when he hit your cervix again. “Admit that i’m your husband. Then i will consider.” he growled as he fucked you mercilessly. “Fuck-“ you cried when he didn’t even slow down a bit. “You’re my husband, König. Please.” you managed to say. “Braves Mädchen.” he purred and slowed down just a bit. “Say it again.” he slapped your hips and smirked delightfully. His big hand covered your hips as he slammed his hips into yours rapidly. You slurred that he was your husband over and over until he finally cum deep inside you. He rubbed your clit so you cum along with him.

You collapsed on his chest as he pulled out his cock. His semen dripped from your hole and you buried your head into his neck. You hated him so much for ruining your life but you were also desperate to have his love and affection. “Meine Königin.” he cooed and rubbed your back in small circles. “We’re not finished.” he kissed your forehead when you protested with a whine.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :* and i try to reply all of them :>

also i post everyday -sometimes 2 posts in a day- so if you follow me i won’t disappoint ;)

i promise i will write the stalker x stalker after this lol

if you liked this story you’ll love this

[julietsbody]

KITTY KAT — art donaldson + reader : art has a tendency to show up late to your lessons. 

tags: mdni, tennis lessons, coach!art donaldson, p in v sex, fingering, art is kind of an asshole, cheating (not on reader) 

a/n: sorry to tashi… this goes out to my dear @murdrdocs

thirty minutes ago. 

art donaldson was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago, your teeth grit against each other, foot tapping impatiently against the concrete floor below you. 

art was a sweet guy, sure, but his time management was beyond infuriating. it almost made you feel like he thought himself above you, like you weren’t worth his time. 

“one to talk,” you mumble to yourself, dragging your racket on the ground, “rich from the guy who was coached by his wife.” 

ahem. 

you spin around, and of course, he’s standing right there, looking the same as he always does. his dirty blonde hair was messed up and falling over his eyebrows, blue eyes, with a mix of brown, staring directly at you with an almost amused expression. 

you blink at him, once, twice. 

a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, “sorry for being late.” 

it sounds condescending, like he would never actually mean it, especially not after what he heard, it felt like a sort of karma for what you were previously saying about him. 

and he knows that, of course he does, so he masks it with a sense of sweetness, one that would typically gaslight people into thinking they’ve been forgiven, but you know better. 

you’ve been coached by art for a while now, and his little habits became far too predictable. this was odd, though, you couldn’t make out the glint in his eye, especially when you mumble a, “sorry, i didn’t mean—“  

“let’s get started, yeah?” art cuts in, bitter, yet his voice still sounded like it was dipped in honeysuckle.

he whisks right past you with that same, tugged up smirk, he reeked of rich cologne and mint. 

your lips press together and you silently, albeit ashamed, nod in agreement. 

maybe silence will earn points back from your coach. 

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

silence did not earn anything. 

art served hard, hit the ball hard, it was as if he wanted to make the ball break through your racket and hit you square in the face. he clearly took your miniscule words personally, and he was testing you, trying to break you down, to see how much you could take until your bones turned soft and you felt like giving up. 

the first time you called a pause, art smiled, “don’t tell me you’re giving up.” 

“pause,” you repeat through heaved breaths, sweat sticking to your skin underneath the relentless sun. art had that same playful look in his eyes that he always did, he knew that what he was doing was working, he knew that he was getting under your skin, and as cruel as it sounds, he really did enjoy it. 

if you ever were to ask him about it, he’d just shrug and say it’s all a part of the practice, it always happens in tennis, especially professional, he’s just preparing you. but deep down, he really just wanted to say that he was doing it for those reasons but for his own personal pleasures, karma comes in many forms, but art picks the harshest form first. 

he watches you drink water with a desperate urgency, stifling his own chuckles, “you sure you’re okay?” 

“‘m fine,” you speak after gulping down the last drop, finally satisfied, “let’s keep going.” 

art’s brows furrow ever so slightly, but as soon as you’re back to being ready, he rolls the tennis ball in his hand a little, observing it, before throwing it up in the air and sending it your way. he’s so casual with every hit, despite his grunts and the way his nose scrunches whenever ball meets racket, he makes it look like it’s nothing. 

to make it even worse, he starts trying to conversate between passes, “you know—“ smack! another grunt leaves his lips, “it’s really rude to—“ smack! “speak about people behind their—“ smack! “fuck.. backs.” 

you’re so busy trying to decipher his words you almost miss the next hit, but thankfully you snap out of the trance quick enough to hit it last minute, which he chuckles at and quickly sends it back. 

smack! “‘m sorry, art, really—“ your shoes scratch against the concrete below, smack! “i was being very—“ smack! “childish, i apologize.” 

he hums, content with your apologies, but still not outwardly saying he forgives you, instead his hits start to soften, he’s less trying to kill you with the ball and now rather trying to actually play tennis. “you’re all good—“ he confirms, smack! “just make it up to me, yeah?” 

ball meets floor, his words had completely caught you off guard, and you missed your hit on the ball he sent your way. you felt almost stupid, standing there, staring at him and trying to decipher what he meant by making it up to him. 

and of course, he didn’t elaborate, he never did, he simply just picked up another ball, smiled at you, and said, “ready?” 

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

art said he forgave you, right? 

ever since that day, he’s been acting.. off. he was more focused on your figure now, not in a crude way, but in a way where he wanted you to position yourself correctly when playing. he watches you serve the ball, then his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek and he stands, “hey, hey, wait a second— your uh… your stance is wrong.” 

“it is?” it was the fifth time he’s corrected you, today, and it’s safe to say you were getting annoyed, he picked up on the bitterness of your tone as he approached you. 

“‘ts not my fault, kitty cat,” he shrugged simply, noticing the way your eyes narrow in frustration at his nickname, he only smiles. he leans in behind you, “may i?” his hands are ghosting over your arms from behind. 

“whatever helps,” you remark. 

“good,” it’s softly spoken at the shell of your ear, making you swallow thick, his fingers wrap around your wrist, other one holding your fingers grip on the racket’s handle. his grip is tight, yet gentle at the same time, veins flexing against his flesh with every movement as he helps you move into the right position. “just gotta.. do it like this,” he’s still whispering against your ear, nearly making your knees buckle. 

once he’s satisfied with your position, which is far too quick for your liking, he backs off and lets you serve the ball again. he smiles once he’s gotten what he’s wanted, “perfect.” 

eventually, after a while of hitting the ball, you decided to take a break. there was a silence between you and art, a tension you couldn’t place, you had nothing to blame it on, nothing to apologize for, and he constantly looked like he was trying to say something indescribable. 

“hey,” he starts, before tugging his bottom lip under his tongue for a mere second before continuing, “remember when i said you had to make it up to me?” 

you stare at him, curious, “yeah, of course.” 

“you know,” his hands smooth over each other, skin underneath his right eye twitching as his pupils dilate in thought, “i’ve been having a.. problem, lately.” 

“with tennis?” 

“nono,” he laughs nervously, moving to scratch the back of his neck, “it’s personal, y’know? well— not entirely, since ‘m telling you, but uh— actually, nevermind.” 

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

you and art hadn’t discussed much after the last meet, you found yourself standing in the court yet again, whilst he was no short of an hour late at this point. you wanted to ask him what his deal is lately, what his problem is, but he wasn’t even here to be questioned. it was almost ridiculous, like he was toying with you. 

“i like your skirt,” it comes out of nowhere, but it’s the same, smooth voice that art holds. 

yet again, you find yourself spinning around to meet him, he’s closer, now, clearly eyeing you— but that’s.. weird, is it not? he has a wife, he shouldn’t be complimenting your obviously short skirt, or eyeing you like that, or wishing to tell you things that he had apparently not told anyone else because it’s personal. but who are you to question his relationship? maybe he’s just.. being nice, really. 

“thank you,” you offer, nice, short, sweet. 

he rolls his shoulder, meeting your eyes, flickering his gaze to your lips for a mere second, then saying nothing and walking by. rich cologne and mint. that’s what wafts into your senses immediately, as if it was some sort of distraction from his odd behaviors. 

“do you always call people kitty cat?” you eventually ask him, it was something you’d been wondering, truly, especially since you’ve never been called that before. 

“to pretty girls with an attitude, yeah,” art says it so casually. 

“like your wife?” 

“like you.” 

art corrected you. 

he corrected you, and his correction didn’t annoy you like how they always did, it made your stomach churn in a way you couldn’t decipher, you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. you liked it, maybe, but isn’t that so sickening? art seems to think no big deal of his own words, as he doesn’t even react, so you try to be nonchalant about it as well. 

the whole entire test match you play with him, he has a certain glint in his eye, his grunts are louder, his shorts look tighter, he looks like he’s having some sort of reaction to playing tennis, to playing tennis with you. your tongue runs along your lips between breaks, noticing the way his eyes linger on it, the way his pupils widen at the shine of saliva over your lips with each swipe. 

at the third break, art was convinced you were doing this on purpose. 

“why do you keep doing that?” he asks as he’s walking over to grab his water bottle, right where you’re sitting on the concrete floor. you blink up at him, watching him hover the bottle near his lips and squirt the water into his mouth. did he always look this good when sweaty? 

gosh, maybe you’re just tired, maybe your mind is just foggy. 

“what?” you frown, confused. 

“licking your lips,” he speaks after swallowing the water, towering over you. his muscles were nearly bursting out of his white t-shirt with every movement, especially when he puts his water bottle down and crosses his arm, head cocking to the side. sweat causes some of his hair strands to stick to his forehead, lips puffy from how much he bites them when playing. 

“my lips are dry,” you explain, so simple. 

“yeah?” again, another smile, he had to be toying with you, “do you need some other help with that?” 

“what do you mean?” 

art hums, not explaining anything when he opens his mouth and swipes his thumb along his tongue, moving down to rub the saliva from his tongue onto your lips, memorizing the pillowy soft touch. your eyes widen, slightly, “art, this is—“ 

“not helping?” art tuts in faux disappointment, mumbling a small, ‘why don’t i..’ before he leans down further, licking his own lips and getting closer and closer until his lips are brushing against yours. 

“wrong,” you mumble out, but you sound unsure, like you don’t really believe what you just said, you don’t think this is wrong, you’ve always thought art was attractive, it was his wife that kept your crush on him at bay. you mumble against his lips, “you have a wife, art..” 

“do i?” he smirks against your lips, a near chuckle slipping out, “i must’ve forgotten.” 

“art,” it sounds like a warning, but again, you wanted nothing less than for his lips to fall against yours right now. 

“make it up to me, yeah? remember that?” his hand moves to hold your cheek, tipping your head up at him, eyes meeting yours in such close proximity, “i’ve got some marriage problems right now, so why don’t you play wife for me, hm?” 

you nod at him, ever so slightly, he clocks it immediately, and that’s his que. his eyes flutter shut, and he’s leaning in only a mere centimeter before his lips fall against yours. the kiss is soft at first, sweet, new, but then art starts taking the lead, and it quickly becomes something on the faint lines of cannibalism, he kissed you like he wanted to eat you, like he loved you. 

when he said he wanted you to play wife, he wasn’t lying. 

he pries your lips open with his own before his tongue makes it’s way inside your mouth, tasting the peppermint of your gum on your own tongue, memorizing the noisy breaths that leave your mouth and move into his. your nails are quick to run along his arms, making him pull back to speak, “hold on, kitty cat.” 

“you call your wife kitty cat?” you watch him peel off his sweaty shirt from his skin. 

he tosses the shirt to the side, exhaling a breath that showed he hated the feeling of the wet fabric on his skin, “mm, i call you kitty cat, ‘nd you’re playing my wife, so.” 

“right,” you agree, letting his cold hands brush against your skin when he takes your clothes off of you, of course looking at you for approval beforehand, which you nod to. 

“did you start wearing shorter skirts on purpose?” art questions when his fingers reach the waistband of your skirt, ever so slowly dipping underneath. 

“no, ‘course not,” you speak breathlessly, feeling his fingers move under your underwear as well until his fingertips meet your clit. you swallow thick, lashes fluttering as he starts moving his fingers in an almost cruel slowness. 

“look at me,” he whispers a simple command, free hand holding your chin and forcing you to look at him. his fingers move further down, immediately feeling how wet you are, he chuckles in surprise, “god, you’re this wet for a married man, huh?” 

“for my husband,” you mumble out, playing the part. 

“that’s right,” his middle finger circles your entrance for a second before ever so slowly dipping it inside. he watches your lips fall apart, the way your eyes get glossed over, the way your hips push up against his finger. “needy.” 

he doesn’t take long to push another finger in, letting go of your chin so he could guide your hand to his clothed cock, hard and pushing against his flimsy shorts. as soon as you start rubbing his dick through the fabric, his breath shudders slightly, as if he’s been waiting too long for like, as if he hasn’t had sexual pleasure in weeks. 

soon enough, only a mere minute or two in of foreplay, art gets antsy and he has to have his dick inside of you, he pries his fingers from your cunt and takes your skirt off next. “lay down for me, yeah?” he smiles at the fact that you do it immediately, even spreading your legs for him. 

he hisses at the feeling when his bare knees meet the concrete floor below, harsh on his skin, he tugs his shorts and boxers down ever so slightly until his cock is finally freed. you inhale sharply upon seeing it, he had a big dick. he spits in his hand, coating his dick with a grunt before he finally lines himself up with your entrance. 

“ready?” he hushes out. 

“yeah, yeah,” you’re barely able to finish the last yeah before his dick is moving into you, his nose scrunching from the tightness of your walls around him, it’s like you were purposefully squeezing his cock with an attempt to milk him dry already. 

“fuck,” he grunts out, pulling back, then moving back in, earning a pathetic moan from your lips. it sounds like music to his ears, so he keeps going, his thrusting was slow at first, gentle, kind— but just like the test matches, or the kiss, he gets hungry, and he wants more. 

his thrusts turn relentless almost immediately, maybe even like he was taking out some sorts of sexual frustrations out on your poor cunt. whimpers, whines, moans, all of those leave your lips, matching up with the grunts and the occasional whimper from his own mouth as well. 

sex was intoxicating for art, and there was something so dangerous, so forbidden about this, you weren’t really his wife, he was married to another woman, he was solely your coach. some sick part of art loves that, maybe that’s why he leans down and starts nipping at your neck, sucking at the delicate skin until maroon and blackberry starts blooming on the blank canvas. 

“art, oh my god,” you moan out, hands moving to scratch at his bare back, and maybe art should be smart enough to tell you not to leave marks, but he lets your nails dig in as his thrusts get harsher, surely drawing blood, or at least noticeable scratches. 

in fact, the feeling of you tearing into his skin only makes his orgasm come on faster, soon enough wracking his body and making his hips stutter. he keeps going though, despite the overstimulation that makes him pathetically whine softly, just until you’ve reached your own orgasm. 

he pulls out, panting, smirking down at you, “thanks, kitty cat.” 

[saintzweig]

older next door neighbor!reader x stanford!art

– teehee :3 proofread? do you even know me (of course it's not)

– edit: i actually dont know how to feel abt this so please let me know what u think!!

art donaldson has been harboring a big fat crush on the girl next door for years now. you're two years older than him, already well into college by the time he got accepted into stanford. 4.0 GPA, a great volleyball player and you volunteer at animal shelters, his grandmother loves you– heck, every mother in town loves you. you used to come over atleast once a week, having dinner with him and his grandma. when you started tutoring to earn money, he had you over three times a week to help him even though his grades are doing fine. he reckons he can do better but really he just wants to have you to himself, the two of you locked in his room for hours. of course that changed when you left for college, choosing a university miles away and leaving him alone for the rest of his highschool years.

you come home every break which means that art does too, hoping to catch you and maybe show off a little. after all, he's a man now– he's on the stanford tennis team, he's won multiple tournaments and he's no longer the little nerd you've known since you were kids.

you come over one afternoon, bringing over some fresh brownies that you've made for art and his grandma. he opens the door shirtless, telling you he was just about to jump in the pool but really, he saw you walking over through the window and took his shirt off. he asks you if you want to maybe join, the weather's nice and all and much to his surprise, you agree, saying you have nothing going on anyways. you excuse yourself for a while, wanting to change into something more suitable and he prays it's the red bikini he's seen you wear before.

and it is. you come in and he offers you a cold beer. "beer huh? i didn't know you drink now, donaldson." you say with a slight grin, taking the bottle from him. he watches the way your hands wrapped around the bottle, images of your black manicured nails wrapped around his co–

he makes a comment about having done stuff in stanford, stopping himself from telling you that he's been drinking since he was a teenager, at the academy. with patrick. he doesn't miss the way your eyes lingered on his lips as took a swig of the beer, making him smirk subtly. he leads you to the backyard and you help yourself to a floatie while he sits on the edge of the pool. you paddle yourself softly to the water, leaning back and savoring the sunlight on your skin. he doesn't even try to hide the way he's staring at your chest, not that you can see anyways because your eyes are closed. "my grandma's having a poker game at one of her friend's so it's just us" he tells you.

you begin to ask him questions about his first year in college– how was tennis, how were the parties, any girls?

tennis was great, he says his coaches are really helping him improve and prepare to go pro. parties were crazy, it was loud and sweaty but he doesn't let himself get carried away, being an athlete and all. he's gotten on a few dates and he tells you he's been asked out alot, exaggerating a little bit to show off. you say you weren't surprised and he asks what you mean.

"i mean look at you, you're not bad looking. you're tall, blonde, athletic– girls dig that. you've gotten bigger too"

he smirks, "bigger?" and you only roll your eyes, leaning your head to look up the sky. he jumps in, walking over to you, crossing his arms over the floatie, making you shift slightly. his elbow touching your thigh. "what about you? any guys?" you hum, sipping on your beer. "there was one, but I don't know. didn't really work out" he asks why and you tell him you just don't see yourself dating someone on campus, they're all assholes who don't take anything seriously.

"have you ever dated anyone younger?" to which you raise a brow, only for him to tilt his head with a stupid grin on his face. you shake your head, "i heard younger guys can treat you very well." he says, and you knew exactly what he meant.

that's how you ended up sitting on the edge of the floatie, legs apart with art standing in between. you're leaning back on your arms while his hands are on your thighs, pulling you closer as he place kisses on your skin. your bikini is beginning to get wet, not just from the pool water. he looks up at you, water dripping down from his hair down to his face. "you don't know how long i've been waiting for this."

you almost whined at his expression, eyes wide as he looked up and lips plump, aching to taste you. you lift your hair to push back his curls and he leans into your touch, closing his eyes. "wanna show me how well you can treat me?" he thinks he just died and came back to life. in a second, your bottoms are untied and floating somewhere in the pool. fully exposed to him now, your cunt soft glistening in the sunlight. he lets out a soft cuss as he takes in the sight. "you sure about this?" you only nod, smiling down at him.

he kisses your sensitive clit, keeping his eyes on you as you throw your head back. he watches as your adams apple bob when you let out a moan. he begins to circle his tongue around your clit, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. butterflies floating in your stomach as he made his way down, sticking his tongue inside your hole, tasting every bit of you. he moans as he feels your slick cover his tongue, "you taste so sweet, angel." you tug on his hair and he takes it as a request to go deeper and he does. he fucks you with his tongue, lifting his hand to press the rough pad of his thumb on your clit. his eyes are closed, savoring every moment. he pulls away slowly, teasing his finger into your dripping hole before slipping it in, and you tense up. immediately enclosing him with your warm gummy walls, art starts to feel pain inside his swimming trunks. he moves his hips slightly, hoping the water will create a friction to relieve the ache.

he attaches himself to your clit once more, sucking on it this time while he curls his fingers inside you at the same time. your stomach tightens as you feel your climax approaching, making you tug on his hair harder. "f–fuck, how are you so good at this" you gasp, bucking your hips. he chuckles, you feel the vibration against your core. "art– shit, i'm so close, baby" he groans at the pet name, his other hand gripping your thigh harder.

"you like that, huh?" your voice breathless, "you like it when i call you baby?" he nods feverishly, lapping up your juices, his own hips bucking softly underwater. you wrap your legs around his back, "i'm gonna cum, artie– fuck, baby just like that. doing so good f'me" within seconds, you're shaking violently into his mouth. feeling warm fluid ooze out of you, which he immediately takes into his mouth. you struggle to hold yourself up, leaning back on your arms as you catch your breath.

if only you could see the string of white floating out of his trunks under the water.

[magical-reid]

Only if You Hold My Hand

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gn!Reader

Word Count: 1.1K

Prompt: 7: “Go with me?” “Only if you hold my hand.”

Summary: Nervously, you ask Spencer to join you at a pop-up art exhibit, only to have him unexpectedly request that you hold his hand to help him navigate the crowds. As the evening unfolds, the simple gesture sparks the beginning of something more between the two of you.

The BAU’s bullpen was unusually quiet for a Thursday evening, the soft hum of computers and the occasional rustling of papers the only sounds breaking the stillness. A low murmur of voices drifted from the break room, but it did little to disrupt the otherwise tranquil atmosphere. You were seated at your desk, nervously twirling a pen between your fingers, your mind circling around the task you’d set for yourself. Spencer sat a few desks away, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked through a stack of case files, his posture so focused it was almost as if the world had shrunk down to the papers in front of him.

You had been staring at him for the better part of ten minutes, your thoughts racing but never quite finding the words you needed. The sensation of nerves bubbled in your stomach, leaving you restless. Your heart thudded unevenly in your chest, a constant reminder of the request you were about to make. Your palms, damp with anxiety, clung to the cool surface of your desk. It was a simple request, really—asking Spencer to go somewhere with you. Yet the mere thought of asking him, someone who had quietly captured your heart over the last year, left you on edge.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you’d been planning for this moment all day. The art exhibit was an easy excuse—something you’d found out about earlier in the week. But it was never really about the exhibit. You just wanted to spend time with him, in a way that felt normal and unforced. Still, as you watched him read the case files, you couldn’t shake the fear of being rejected.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stand, your legs feeling a little unsteady as you walked toward him. The clack of your shoes against the hard floor seemed loud in the otherwise quiet bullpen, but you forced yourself to keep going.

“Spencer,” you said, your voice a little too high, betraying the nervousness you were trying so hard to keep in check. You swallowed, your throat tight as you tried again, this time forcing a casual tone. “I was wondering if you’d come with me to something.”

He looked up from his case files, his honey-brown eyes soft behind his glasses, taking in the sudden shift in your demeanor. He blinked, setting the file down carefully as he adjusted his position in his chair. “Oh, hey,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. “Did you need help with something?”

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I mean, yes, but not with a case.” You paused, taking a steadying breath as you clasped your hands together, trying to keep them from fidgeting. “I just… There’s this thing happening downtown tonight. A pop-up art exhibit. I thought it might be fun, but I didn’t want to go alone.”

His brows furrowed slightly, his expression shifting from curiosity to a mix of surprise and thoughtfulness. He tilted his head in that familiar way that made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d overstepped. Spencer, after all, was rarely the first to say yes to an invitation that took him outside his comfort zone.

“Go with you?” he repeated, his voice thoughtful, but not dismissive.

You nodded quickly, biting your lip, and your words rushed out, almost a breathless confession. “Yeah. It’s no big deal, just something I thought would be fun. But, you know, I didn’t want to go alone. I thought maybe you’d want to join me?”

Spencer’s gaze flickered over your face, lingering there in a way that made your cheeks flush with heat. His lips parted slightly, as if he were about to say something, but then he hesitated, brow furrowing in that way that made you wonder if you’d misjudged the situation. A few long seconds stretched on between you, your stomach tightening with each passing moment. But then, to your surprise, he gave you a small, shy smile—one you had come to cherish over the last few months, even if he didn’t always realize how much it meant.

“I’d love to go,” he said, his voice tentative but warm. “But… I have to admit, I’m not great with crowds.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, a gesture that mirrored the anxious energy you were feeling. “I think I’d feel better if, uh… if we held hands while we were there.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the unexpected sweetness of his request throwing you off balance. It was almost too much for a moment—Spencer, the man who was brilliant and awkward in equal measure, asking for something so simple, yet so intimate.

“What?” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper, unable to fully grasp what he had just said.

He ducked his head slightly, a pink hue blooming across his cheeks as he stammered. “I mean… I just—I think I’d feel a lot better if you, you know… held my hand. Would that be okay?”

Your heart fluttered at the vulnerability in his voice. The quiet, tentative way he asked was so very Spencer, and it softened you in ways you hadn’t expected.

“I’d be happy to,” you said softly, your lips curving into a smile that felt more genuine than you’d expected.

A visible wave of relief washed over him, his shoulders relaxing as he seemed to find solid ground again. You caught him fidgeting with the edge of the file he had been holding, his fingers nervously drumming the paper as if he wasn’t sure what to do next.

“Okay,” he said, his voice lighter now. “Let me just grab my coat.”

You smiled as he stood and moved to his desk, gathering his things. The tension in the air between you had shifted, replaced by something warmer, more comfortable. The nerves that had gripped you both seemed to fade as Spencer slipped on his jacket, and the two of you stepped out of the bullpen together.

As you made your way toward the elevator, the crisp evening air welcoming you outside, your hand brushed against his. The contact, so brief yet electric, sent a jolt through you, and you hesitated for only a second. Then, with a little more confidence than you felt, you slipped your fingers between his, intertwining them in a way that felt so natural, so right, that it made your heart beat faster.

Spencer glanced down at your joined hands, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes softened told you everything you needed to know.

“Thanks for asking me,” he said quietly, his voice so tender that it made your chest feel full.

You squeezed his hand gently, your heart racing but in a different way now. “Thanks for saying yes.”

In that simple moment, walking side by side toward the evening ahead, you knew that tonight wouldn’t just be the start of something new—it would be the beginning of a journey neither of you had fully anticipated, but both were more than ready to embrace.

[moonydoodlez]

ok the art you sent me has me spiraling but imagine getting it on with alastor maybe hes a little pissy or whatever so he’s extremely in the mood to bite EVERYWHERE and i think we all know its not weak little bites its hard bites especially if hes in a bad mood and definitely hard enough to draw blood and then be starts swiping that blood up with his finger coating them with your blood and drawing little smiles (especially smiles its literally alastor) and hearts all over especially on the readers face

My Painting

Pairing: Alastor x F!reader

Warnings: Alastor being horny and lowkey a vampire, accidental housewife kink oops, if you hate blood dont read this

Word count: 765

There wasn't much light shining through the windows anymore as you sat on the counter waiting for Alastor. You took in the smell of the home baked muffins in the oven as you looked out the window as the sun set. The front door slammed shut making you jump off the counter and you waited patiently for him to notice you standing there. He finally walked into the spot where a little bit of light shined on him. You took in his disheveled clothes with rips and the light traces of blood across his whole body.

“Well how was your day?” You joked as you looked him up and down turning on the overhead light so you could get a better look at him.

He rolled his eyes, muttering to himself. Something about some evil tv man and how he wants to kill him so badly. You stared at him with a soft smile as he continued muttering to himself. He looked like a child who was told no for the first time as he began pacing around.

“Hon” You say, getting his attention as he finally took you in. An apron hugged your waist as you wore a white baby tee that stuck to every curve of your body and jean shorts. He smirked, taking long strides toward you.

He pushed you against the kitchen counter as he stared down at you like you were his prey. His hands slowly wrapped around yours as he pinned them behind your back leaning down to gently bite your earlobe.

“God look at my little housewife” His staticy voice said, breaking the silence that had previously been there. His hands let go of your wrists but instead he set a firm grip on your hips. “I didn't even know you had this,” He said, pulling at the strings that tied the apron behind your back. It slowly fell as your tight clothes were now on full display for him.

“Well usually i'm done cooking by the time you come home my love” You say as you move your hands to the belt loops on his pants moving him flush against your body. “But maybe I should wear it more often” You smirk, staring up at him. 

His eyes darkened as he brought his mouth down to your neck. It started out slow and sensual. His lips moving slowly nipping softly as he moved down your neck to your chest. The more you whimpered and withered under his touch he not only sped up but he began to bite harder. Finally as he reached your neck again he bit down hard. You moaned loudly bucking your hips into his as he bit down like a starved man

“Alastor jesus” You whimper as he backs away smiling watching the blood run down your neck. Instead of cleaning it up he bit down again on the other side of your neck. Blood began to spill down as you winced at the pain. You could feel it dripping down, you couldn’t tell if you were grossed out or incredibly turned on. Maybe both. 

The blood had finally reached your white shirt. “Oh no, my little housewife is a little dirty” He said sarcastically as he ripped it off your body leaving your top half naked as he stared intently as the blood spilled down your chest.

His hands reached up grabbing your boobs as the blood smeared across his hand and your chest. You could tell he had an idea as a sinister smile formed across his lips. He began to trace his name in your blood and many other vulgar words across your neck and chest as he continued biting to make more paint for his beautiful painting.

He soaked his fingers in the blood and made little smiley faces across your chest. You giggled as he drew little pictures in your blood. “I'm running out of blood” He pouted. 

Before you could even react to his words he was biting deeply into your skin causing you to yelp in pain. That was definitely leaving a scar or some sort of mark. Instead of light dribbles of blood it gushed out as he grabbed more blood and began to paint small hearts on your face. He looked you in the eyes as he licked one long strip across his whole hand, your blood now dripping down his chin as he sucked the blood off his fingers. 

“My beautiful little painting” He says before leaning in kissing you hard. The taste of his spit and your blood lingering in your mouth.

Masterlist Alastor Masterlist

[lewdlepoodle69]

Star, on break, and Eule, not on break. First major piece back after a minor interruption! In mid July I suffered a little bit of art burnout so I took the next month off to recuperate. I think it mainly came down to how much pressure I was unknowingly putting on myself through how I thought about my art as well as not enjoying the process. It was getting unsustainable. How I'm trying to heal my habits is mainly coming down to not taking my drawing as seriously, I have an issue of doing that with things I care about. I've got a piece in the works that has about as many WIPs as my Ariane hell-piece a little bit ago, 8, and I'm not letting it bother me! I'll get it done in time! And I think thinking like that has made this piece come together quicker! (At least in my head, it was still 17 hours.) I think I feel better so far. I'm really proud pleased with how this turned out! There are a lot of little things I like; specifically the linework and the general form of Star and Eule, the colour (though I still think the red should be a bit more drawn back), just like, the vibe; but I think my absolute favourite aspect is the blown-out lights behind them. I did draw some light fixtures but this is better. I haven't really experimented with having part of an image be outside the exposure range. Anyhow, this has made me excited to start finishing big things again! Here's to hopefully healthier habits!

( This description is NEW! )

[artemiseamoon]

I’m glad to see more discussion about the experience as a non-white person in the PP fandom. I have been in many ‘fan groups’ in my life, 80s baby here, and this one has surprisingly been the most unwelcoming and triggering in many ways (💜minus the ✨amazing✨ readers, mutuals, and friends I have made here. This part is the good stuff.) 💜

I’m glad to see more discussion about how we get overlooked and our work, art, and moodboards get ignored.

I’ve been yelling into the void about this since 2020, many others as well, and many for much longer than me. We get ignored, overlooked, nasty anons, the list goes on…

In my time sharing here, I have tried to make things as diverse and inclusive as possible while highlighting black and brown folks. But I tell you, my readership suffered, my moodboards (which I put my heart and soul into) were only shared sometimes, if so it was by a few lovely mutuals and amazing readers who supported me.

My engagement has always been a struggle. I could actively see my moodboards and fics with brown skin characters get 0-10 likes and no reblogs while ones with petite pintrest ⚪️ women get 100+. This happened often, minus cool surprises like when something would be shared by a bigger blog and then i’d see more engagement for a burst of time. Only in these cases I would have the most reach and see that reflected in things like reblogs and likes. Anyway…

This has been a discussion for a long time. I got so tired I stopped talking about it. I stopped posting about it. It seemed my voice, and many others didn’t matter. I took many breaks, left and came back, only to find things worse and the little community I had mostly gone. I stepped away from here and the PP fandom.

I was and am greatly disappointed that there is such a lack of support and blatant (plus passive aggressive) racism in this fandom for a poc!

Recently, to see the confederate flag used as an aesthetic choice in a fic (by a writer I did enjoy and follow) was a blow. Especially even more now as a queer woman with brown skin living in a country that voted a racist criminal into office, again.

Fan-fiction should be a safe place to escape. Why would we want to see our very valid fears and hostile signs like that flag in fics we read?

On that note, it is crazy to me we have to experience this at all, but especially in a fandom for a poc man!!

Again, I am happy these conversations are happening. Will things change? I dunno - I feel doubtful. I am pissed. But I do hope there will be change.

Ps: just because a character is from the south, and has an accent, DOES NOT mean you have to make them racist. As a woman with Louisiana Creole roots via my dad, and Southern (GA, NC, VA) both via my mom and dad (I grew up in the North so no accent and all for me) BUT I do write alot of Southern Gothic and fic settings in places like Louisiana. Would I add that fucking flag even tho it’s around? No.

Don’t do shit like that. Do better.

Pss: this is bigger than me, I am not just talking about my self. My work is not for everyone, some will dislike it, thats totally ok, i have weaknesses as well as strengths as a writer, thats ok - i am talking about this on a grander collective scale of things. We already lost so many creative talented poc and queer writers and I myself have been distant from the fandom as well. Don’t be surprised if more continue to leave if this shit keeps up.

[kozachenko]

[Click for better quality]

Ok yay I'm back from my vacation yipeeeeeee. I started this drawing of Keiki before I left and I was half considering just giving up on it.... until I did a short study of facial planes and then got motivated to work on this again! I'm glad I didn't give up on it though, as I'm actually really happy with this one!

Artist's Notes;

So as I mentioned in my last post about Touhou 17, I wanted to finish this by the game's five year anniversary but with how progress was going I didn't want to rush this so I decided to take a long break from it. Mainly because of the face. For a while now I was kind of feeling like I was stagnating with my drawings, not really in the clothing but in the bodies. There was something about the way I was rendering them that I just wasn't happy with, and after talking with someone else about this issue, I realized that the reason I felt this way was because the faces were too flat and didn't match the rest of the drawing and that I needed to find a way to make the rendering of the face feel consistent with everything else. So after doing a short study of the plains of the face (I used this 3D head model from art station as a reference for my short study, please go give this person some love as they are a lifesaver) I went back into this drawing and applied what I learned here. It was only after that that I finally became motivated to finish the piece, and while it started off as just a simple character sketch like Saki and Yachie's were, the moment I added in Keiki's little fire dragon I knew I had gotten in too deep and now here we are with a full on background. OK it's not super crazy or anything, but it gets the job done and it's better than there just being an empty void behind her. It's rare moments like this when I use brushes other than the Clip Studio Default Charcoal Brush and use the Clip Studio Default Paint Brushes as well (god bless the oil paint and dry gouache clip studio brushes, they were amazing). I don't know why but painting fire has always been really fun for me, there's something oddly satisfying about it y'know? I do think that another reason for this problem was because I was drawing faces like I would in my more sketchy style that didn't mesh well with my lineless style, so I'm glad I've started remedying that.

After adding in the fire dragon I had an idea to kinda make it feel like splash art in the way the composition works... probably because I have been playing Reverse 1999 again and it has taken over my brain. I do feel like Keiki's tools get a little lost in the composition, and I didn't fully render the metal parts of them mainly because I didn't feel like they needed it, but that's just something for me to improve on later down the line.

If you guys are wondering where I went for my vacation, I went to New York and got to go to the MET and the Museum of Natural History. In both places I found Kofun period stuff and I was so happy to see it you have no idea. I remember one of the Haniwa I saw had some neat face paint under the eyes that I tried to replicate with the makeup under Keiki's eyes in my drawing, though I think I'll gave to figure out how to draw makeup on characters because this reads more like blush to me than anything. While drawing this I also looked up some references of Kofun period jewelry and really liked the stuff I found, which also meant that now she has proper Kofun earrings instead of earrings shaped like Kofun tombs. I put some of the things I referenced with a closeup of Keiki's face as well down below. I made her outfit more reminiscent of the outfit I gave her at the beginning of the year with the buttons and all, though I do want to try and draw her in some more period accurate clothing like the Haniwa I took a picture of at the Museum of Natural History. I wish I could find a way to make her handercheif look better though as I wish I made it a little bit bigger, though I think I'm saying this because I've looked at this drawing for too long lmao. Once again something to work on for when I next draw her. Also want to get better at rendering hair, as some details (like the little strands in front of her ears) kinda got unreadable due to the similarities in colour lol.

Now you may have also noticed the little cracks I added onto Keiki's face, and that's because I have fallen in love with the idea of Keiki's body being made from ceramic and that she crafted her body herself. While they aren't very visible I also tried to add some doll joints to her body, which is an idea I played around with in the past but never went to far with. I also want to get better at rendering cracks in ceramic, porcelain, etc, as I'm not sure how those read in the drawing. I also have a headcanon where the cracks in Keiki's face show up because of heightened emotions, and while Keiki is aware of this and does her best to make sure her face doesn't break off.... she will still end up with at least a few cracks during any given day, and she can often forget to repair her own body quite frequently so Mayumi has to remind her quite a lot. Mayumi even taught herself some basic sculpting techniques to help repair parts of her body that are so badly damaged to the point where Keiki can't repair them herself, i.e. if both her arms broke off, Mayumi would put them back together for her so Keiki can at least have something to repair herself with rather than nothing. I also like to imagine that if Keiki created her own body, if you took a look at Keiki from the beginning of her life she would look completely different compared to now.

BTW If you guys are wondering what a very very angry Keiki looks like....ok in order for this to make sense have any of you read volume 11 of Land of The Lustrous? Am I bringing back some memories for those of you that have? Ok good, glad we all got that mental image brewing in our minds, I'll probably draw a version of Keiki that is somewhat inspired by that one day as it's an idea I've had for a little while now. And to those who haven't gotten to that volume yet and are confused.... don't worry about it, just keep reading :)

[pugh-bug]

Flashing Lights

Art Donaldson x reader

If people like this I’ll write a part 2 and possibly some sub Art fics in the future. Challengers is all I can think about at the moment and this blonde man is living rent free in my brain.

——————————————————————

‘Come on come on, they can never have too many pictures taken of them!’

Your friend dragged you and your mediocre camera, quite forcefully, to Tashi Duncan’s party. It wasn’t just that you hadn’t been invited and that you weren’t remotely a tennis player it was that Ashley’s lame excuse of ‘they need more photographers’ was patently untrue. Everywhere you looked there were photographers with cameras that cost more than your yearly rent.

‘I’ll get us a drink wait here.’

You watched her confidently insert herself into the queue for the bar, in between endless posters of Tashi Duncan hoodies and Tashi Duncan headbands. If you hadn’t been such a feminist you might have felt a little sick from all the masturbatory self promotion.

In your idleness you decided to people watch. There were no less than a hundred people there already, all dressed elegantly with hair and makeup that no doubt took longer to do than the night would even last. You pulled at your tight dress. Flattering? Definitely. Comfortable? Absolutely not. Ashley had the tennis body, the Tashi Duncan confidence and skill but without the praise or queue of fans. You had your camera.

You hadn’t touched a tennis racket since you were ten years old. These people weren’t your peers they were your betters, including the snobby photographers and perhaps even including Ashely. At least she knew what ‘down the line’ meant.

‘Can we go?’ Your voice sounded bitter as Ashley handed you a cocktail. ‘I’ve got two photoshoots to edit for tomorrow and I don’t even like tennis! Why am I even here?’ As your friend defended her plan to ‘sleep with as many rich tennis players as possible’ your eyes wandered once again, this time landing on a man who needed no introduction.

‘Is that … Art Donaldson?’

It was him, smoking a cigarette by Patrick Zweig dressed for Summer. Fire and ice in the flesh. You suddenly felt the need to readjust your dress, your hair, your earrings. To fidget. To fidget and prepare for the chance he might look in your direction and see what he wanted.

‘Fuck me it’s Zweig.’

As Ashley launched into a thesis on why Patrick was the hottest man she’d ever seen, your eyes bored into the side of Art’s head. His curls fell so perfectly on his forehead but all you could find yourself imagining was messing them up. As your staring breached the line of too far, Ashley tapped your arm. ‘Think I should go talk to him? Flirt a bit? He’s a bit of a man whore, I’m pretty sure I could get him.’ Just as you opened your mouth to speak, the recipient of your staring began to move closer.

It only took a few moments for Art to reach yours and Ashley’s corner of refuge but his eyes never strayed from you. Zweig had followed him like a puppy and whilst you couldn’t have cared less where the brunette chose to stand, you could practically feel Ashley screaming in her head.

‘Aaliyah right? You basically murdered my friend out there yesterday.’ As Ashley corrected Patrick’s memory, you forced your eyes to look at anything that wasn’t Art’s knowing smirk in your direction. It didn’t work, in fact your refusal to make eye contact with the future star had made your feelings glaringly obvious.

You’d watched him play many times, instead of doing your own work, and although you found tennis a little boring the man had you riveted. The ease at which he hit the ball with such force, the little hand movements he’d do during a tie break and his cruel habit of taking his shirt off on hot days … you were hooked.

As he eyed your dress you wondered if he’d seen you, made note of just how many matches you’d been front and centre at. Maybe he knew you were an amateur photographer and perhaps his smirk was intended as a mockery of your being there. Art knew you didn’t belong at thee Tashi Duncan’s after party. You both knew it. He looked at you, finally as you’d lifted your gaze, and cocked his head slightly to the side.

‘So, you don’t like tennis?’

Shit.

‘Oh. You heard that.’

‘Yep.’

His voice was glazed with amusement as he sipped his cold beer, daring you to defend yourself.

‘Ashley was invited,’ you lied with little ease. ‘I’m here as her friend- well I guess also photographer but you all seem to have that covered.’ Both yours and Art’s eyes glanced at the gang of professionals taking Tashi’s photo. She was holding the shimmering trophy as if it was nothing of real value, she had the humble but proud smile down. Art clocked your jealous expression and raised an eyebrow. ‘Tashi not your favourite?’

‘She’s pretty amazing and she looks fucking beautiful tonight I can’t lie. I just, I guess I wish I was that talented.’

Despite her successful flirting to Patrick, Ashley heard your little, sad admission. Mentally you scolded yourself for letting Art see your vulnerable side. Instead of judgement he smiled.

‘Are you not the best at getting front row seats?’

He left off ‘at my matches’ but the point had been made loud and clear. You chose not to react and to ignore him completely. ‘Ashley?’ But when you turned your head to your friend you saw her mouth was occupied. Oh.

Art laughed at his best friend. ‘Seriously? You couldn’t go one night?’ No, Patrick couldn’t and he couldn’t find it in his horny heart to feel guilty for stealing your one friend and escape route from you. The pair, still connected by their lips, hurried away from the party and to some poor fucker’s bedroom. You were alone with Art Donaldson and the party that engulfed the two of you had began to die down.

‘I should go too-‘

‘Wanna go down to the beach with me?’

You couldn’t help but scoff audibly at his request. ‘You don’t even know my name.’

Art’s eyes practically gleamed with cheekiness as he moved towards you. ‘Then tell me.’

‘It’s Y/N.’

With a charming smile he repeated his offer. ‘Y/N… wanna go down to the beach with me?’

If a mind reader had been in attendance you’d have been mortified as your first thought was: Oh god have I even shaved?

The decision to take your heels off had been an impulsive one and an instant regret as you felt the brittle sand rub against your toes. Avoiding the broken glass, you walked into Art’s shoulder and quickly apologised. ‘You’re like a baby deer.’

You perched on the rock overlooking the water that moonlight reached. Art’s eyes were transfixed on you as your hair blew from your shoulders. Surely he was just bored and flirting for fun. But you hadn’t seen him speak to anyone except Patrick before approaching you.

‘What is it about photography?’ Art gestured to the camera you almost forgot you were still wearing around your neck.

‘What is it about tennis?’

Art lit his second cigarette, took a drag and smirked.

‘I’ll let you answer that.’

Much to his elation, your dress had begun to ride up but you hadn’t noticed. You simply dug your toes in the sand and smiled coyly at the blonde. But how to best handle this?

‘Watching you play tennis isn’t like watching other people play tennis.’

Art grinned, only for a moment, but you caught the ego boost in real time. He moved backwards in his chair, outstretching his long legs and looking up at you with keen interest and quiet amusement. ‘Go on.’

Your mind flashed back to his most recent match. His opponent had purposefully coughed every time it was Art’s turn to serve and instead of letting it distract him or doing it back Art had fired the ball, with force, by his head. It had been a warning, not a greatly subtle one but certainly great to watch. The shock on the boys face as he narrowly missed receiving a black eye had made you laugh and you suddenly remembered Art had beamed at you when you had.

‘You’re just really good at it.’

‘Try again.’

He wasn’t making this easy for you but that didn’t mean you had to shower him in compliments, not when he hadn’t so much as asked you your name until prompted. You watched him, completely settled and comfortable in Tashi Duncan’s deck hair and wondered if someone this confident and talented (and knew as much) could possibly be single… unless?

‘Are you and Patrick just friends?’

He twitched ever so slightly at your question before covering his shock with a chuckle.

‘Umm.. yes. Sorry to disappoint.’

You smiled, suddenly feeling more confident now that you’d put him on the spot for the first time that night.

‘Not disappointed.’

Seeing you at ease, seemingly with any answer he had to offer, Art relaxed into his chair again. A moment of silence passed as the two of you listened to the very end of the party above and the seas tumbling waves. The water was just beginning to reach the rock you’d been safely perching on. A sign to leave.

‘I think I should go back to my ho-AAA!’

You’d barely taken two steps before buried broken glass assaulted your feet.

‘Jesus fuck!’

‘Y/N!’

The pain shot through you from toe to head, it settled in between your eyebrows as you frowned, trying not to scream. Art’s face was a picture of panic. He couldn’t help but notice how much pain you were in from putting weight on your foot, which had just begun to bleed as a thought entered his head.

‘I’ll carry you.’

‘I think I can walk.’

You took a hesitant step further but your foot ,in an act of betrayal, buckled under the pain. Giving Art a look of defeat you sighed. ‘Yeah, I think you’re gonna have to.’

You thought it would feel strange, the man whom you’d been watching almost obsessively for months play a sport you despised carrying you to safety. It didn’t. It felt right. His strong arms flexed under your weight as he took confident but cautious steps to Tashi’s party. There wasn’t much left of it. In fact the only people still there were two photographers packing up their lighting equipment and they didn’t give you so much as a second glance.

‘Any chance you secretly are friends with Tashi?’ Art asked, his voice hopeful, hoping he could drop you off to safety. He pursed his lips when you shook your head. Another moment of silence passed through the two of you but this one was different. You craned your neck out to gage the distance before suggesting:

‘My hotel really isn’t far. A mile at most.’

Art smirked for a moment, forgetting what the actual circumstances were. Your foot had stopped bleeding but you didn’t feel like walking. In fact you were rather enjoying Art Donaldson: the knight in shining armour. It was a good look on him.

‘Uber?’

‘Think of it as a workout.’

It wasn’t the recreational workout Art had been hoping for that night but he did it. He carried you and your shoes to your hotel room. The receptionist barely reacted to your new person but of course what did she care? She was probably only concerned with what mess you’d leave the cleaners.

‘67, this is it.’

Art put you down, keeping his arm around your waist for support. He was a little flushed from the exertion and you were flushed from the pain, or perhaps just his wandering hand.

‘Do you want me to st-‘

‘I want you to stay.’ You interrupted him hurriedly, desperate for him to stay. In that moment you didn’t mind if he stayed to read the complimentary bible next to you or if he wanted to fuck you mercilessly in front of the bathroom mirror. You just wanted him close.

At your eagerness, Art smiled following you in. Your hotel room was not too messy for visitors but it certainly hadn’t been expecting any. For a moment you wondered how Ashley was getting on in her room down the hall and if she too had embarrassed herself in front of her favourite tennis player. Somewhat likely.

‘I think seeing as you’ve carried me bleeding you can see me in pyjamas. Give me one se-‘

You gestured to the bathroom and your dress, looking forward to getting out of it but Art shook his head. You froze. His face was one of sheer determination and unwavering confidence, not unlike the look he gave cocky opponents who needed humbling. He closed the gap between you until his chest was inches from yours but blocked by your camera. You took it off, not breaking eye contact, and placed it slowly on the desk behind you.

Just as you thought the only way to break the silence would be with a kiss, Art broke eye contact. ‘Do you have any antiseptic wipes? Anything to clean it?’ You felt your stomach unclench. ‘Yeah.’ Limping slightly, you fetched a packet from the bathroom sink and placed them in Art’s open palm. He gestured to the bed.

‘Sit.’

His order was polite but you felt compelled. Sitting on your own bed as if it was alien, you looked up at him waiting for the next.

‘Foot.’

Art got down on his knees. Your stomach flipped. With careful hands, he held your injured foot and inspected it. You’d never felt so exposed before, the way his eyes engaged with your wound as if it were more fascinating than any match he’d won. There was an unspoken rule for neither of you to speak as he cleaned you. It stung like a bitch but you only let out minor hisses in pain, barely audible to Art but not unnoticeable.

As he took out a plaster, seemingly from thin air, and applied it to your foot he said: ‘Before tonight,’ Ouch. You winced from the pressure he applied. ‘I’d seen you watching me.’ He didn’t look at you, only concentrating on his handiwork and causing you as little pain as possible.

‘Yeah I gathered from all the teasing.’

His voice grew suddenly lower. ‘I’m not talking about tennis matches.’

You were suddenly reminded of a not so distant memory. Ashley had stood you up for lunch, she’d found a better hot date, and you had been in the cafeteria alone. Art had been queuing in front of you, waiting for Patrick and you’d been in awe. What you hadn’t noticed was that he’d sensed your eyes burning holes into the back of his head long before he turned around. He had given you a passing look of recognition and slight amusement before finding his seat next to Patrick.

You imagined alongside that memory were hundreds others. Hundreds of days you’d stared at Art, watched how he span his apples before eating them and the line of his jaw when he drank water in oppressive heat. All the time he had known, you just hadn’t been as subtle as you thought.

‘Oh.’

Art gave you your foot back and sat on the bed beside you. For a moment you couldn’t bare to look at him, incase he disappeared and decided it was funnier to leave you hanging. Your foot was the least of your worries. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d really kissed someone, with feverish need, but you wanted to.

Noticing your inward battle, Art raised his hands almost in defeat. ‘I can leave.’ He meant it, there was no judgement. You turned to him, your eyes meeting his clouded with lust, and recognised that this was a man who needed to be wanted. He wanted to give and receive pleasure, not out of boredom but out of a clawing need for it. If you wanted him to leave then he’d leave but if you wanted him to stay then he’d make the most of it.

Your hand settled atop of his.

‘Don’t.’

Part 2

Masterlist

Resources 🇸🇩🇨🇩🇵🇸

[fruitjoos]

don’t you think you deserve it?

art donaldson x reader, patrick zweig x reader

summary: art’s playing snake between you and patrick. it’s obvious there’s a reason, so a confession is made.

warnings none

You and Patrick were in the middle of a slightly tense argument, one that had started as a lighthearted disagreement but quickly escalated. He had brought up a conversation he’d had with “a friend,” which quickly soured the mood. Patrick was feeling insecure, convinced that he wasn’t good enough for you, and no matter how hard you tried to reassure him, your words felt like they were bouncing off a wall. It wasn’t you he was listening to, it was this friend of his.

Frustrated, you asked who this so called friend was. Patrick hesitated before finally admitting it was Art. The revelation hit hard. You tried to explain that Art didn’t know what he was talking about, that Patrick needed to stop letting other people’s opinions poison his mind. But instead of understanding, it seemed like Patrick was defending Art, making excuses for why he’d take Art’s word over yours.

That was when you snapped. "If you're so willing to believe everything Art says over what I’m telling you, then maybe you two should be in a relationship instead."

The tension in the air lingered long after the argument died down, so later that evening, you set out to find Art. Unsurprisingly, you found him in the dining hall sitting with Tashi. You barely acknowledged her as you asked if you could talk to him alone. Tashi hesitated, giving Art a wary look, but eventually stood up and left the two of you alone.

Without warning, you smacked Art upside the head, fury bubbling over. “Where the hell do you get off telling Patrick he’s not good enough for me?”

Art, unfazed, rubbed the back of his head and sighed. "That’s not what I said. I told him you deserve better, and if he didn’t think he was that, that has nothing to do with me."

But his explanation did little to calm you, the damage already done.

Art’s casual tone only fueled your anger. You stepped closer, your voice trembling with emotion. "Do you realize what you've done? Patrick’s spiraling because of you. He’s questioning everything between us, and now he thinks I’m settling for him. All because of your careless words."

Art's face hardened, his usual laid-back demeanor shifting to something more serious. "I wasn’t trying to hurt him. Or you. But if he’s doubting himself that much, isn’t that something you should both face?"

"That’s not your call to make!" you shouted, fists clenched at your sides. "You don’t get to decide what’s good for our relationship. You don’t get to plant seeds of doubt in his head just because you think you know what's best for me."

Art's eyes flashed, his calm exterior cracking just a little. "I only said what everyone’s been thinking. You deserve someone who’s not afraid to be everything you need."

Your heart twisted painfully at his words, the weight of them settling in your chest like lead. You took a shaky breath, trying to hold back the storm of emotions threatening to break loose. "Why do you care so much?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, more vulnerable than you intended.

Art froze, his jaw tightening as he looked away for a moment, like he was weighing his response. Then, almost too quietly, he muttered, "Because I’ve seen him doubt himself for too long. And I’ve seen how you deserve someone who doesn’t need convincing to believe they’re enough for you."

His words hung heavy in the air between you, but there was something in his voice that made you pause. It wasn’t just about Patrick anymore, and the realization hit you like a punch to the gut.

"This is about you?" you whispered, scoffing. The accusation barely audible, but it made Art flinch like you’d struck him again.

He didn’t answer at first, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder, avoiding yours. But the silence was answer enough. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, the weight of the truth crashing over you. Art hadn’t just been talking as Patrick’s best friend. Somewhere along the way, this had become personal for him too.

"Art," you breathed, your voice shaking now for entirely different reasons. "You don’t—"

"I don’t what?" he cut in sharply, his eyes finally meeting yours with raw fustration. "I don’t get to care about you? I don’t get to worry that maybe, just maybe, you’re with someone who’ll never see himself as worthy of you? God, do you know how hard it is to watch that every day and say nothing?"

You stared at him, stunned into silence, as the full weight of his words hit you. This wasn’t just a friendship anymore, not for him. And maybe, you’d been ignoring it for longer than you wanted to admit.

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you forced them back, refusing to let them fall. "You don’t get to make this about you, Art. You don’t get to mess with Patrick’s head just because you—"

"Just because I love you?" he interrupted, the confession ripping out of him like it had been tearing him apart for far too long. The words hung between you, heavy and inescapable. There was no taking them back now.

You felt like everything crashed down in a blur of confusion, anger, and heartache. You had come here to defend your relationship with Patrick, to confront the person who had planted doubt in his mind, but now, now you didn’t even know what you were fighting for anymore.

"You’re selfish," you whispered, the hurt and betrayal clawing at your throat. "Patrick’s your best friend, and you’re doing this to him. To me."

Art looked at you with a hollow expression, the vulnerability he’d let slip quickly fading into something colder, more guarded. "Maybe I am," he admitted, his voice low. "But at least I’m honest about how I feel. Can you say the same?"

Your breath caught in your throat, his words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. Because the truth was, you weren’t sure anymore. Not about Patrick, not about Art, and definitely not about the complicated mess of emotions swirling within you.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, leaving Art standing there in the background, his confession ringing in your ears. “Don’t talk about me with Patrick anymore.”