#if that makes me seem pathetic i don't care anymore.

[babybearnini]

I feel so upset like I'm gonna go home and cry under the blankets and dry heave

[running-in-the-dark]

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[encodedkismet]

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[dyns33]

Symbiosis

I missed Eddie x reader with silly Venom being in the way. Can't wait to see what they'll do in the next movie.

From the beginning of their relationship, Y/N had noticed that there was something different with Eddie.

She might have thought that it was because he was somewhat famous that he behaved eccentrically, sometimes talking to himself and seeming very agitated for no reason.

Without ever really bringing up these oddities, Eddie had been very honest with her about a lot of things. His childhood, his dreams, his ex-girlfriend, the loss of his job before becoming a journalism star again, his little problems with cleanliness.

"I mean, I'm a very clean person… Normally. All the time ! I wash twice a day, I take care of my teeth, I don't like living in filth but... Sometimes I'm not at home for a long time, and I'm totally focused on my job, and the stress… So, if I can seem a little dirty and messy, I'm sorry, I will never ask you to clean up for me and you can tell me that I stink by patting me on the back of the head. Yes, on the back of the head, I deserve it." Eddie muttered at the end of his sentence, looking to the side as if he were talking to someone else.

"I don't think you're dirty. You sweat a little sometimes, but that's natural."

“You’re saying that because you haven’t seen my apartment yet.”

“Does that mean you want to invite me to your apartment ?” Y/N asked, smiling shyly.

"Of course ! No, you don't… Of course, Y/N, I've been wanting to for a long time."

The presence of chickens was a little surprising, and it was true that the apartment was not in very good condition, but it was a bit like her idea of a bachelor pad, and it was quite reassuring to think that Eddie didn't often bring women home.

It meant something important to him, a sign of trust.

But that certainly wasn't the greatest evidence. No, this evidence took a little longer to emerge from the shadows, or from Eddie's shoulder, after a month of relationship.

Precisely the day he couldn't hold back the first "I love you."

The spontaneous, charming statement came in the middle of the small talk, and Y/N felt very happy, ready to respond that she loved him too.

It was then that the thing appeared between them, looking furious, showing its large teeth.

"No ! Eddie, no, you can't do that !"

“Oh, God, what is that ?!”

"Vee ! Vee, you promised me, man ! You're going to scare her ! And you have no right to interfere in my love affairs, go back inside ! Y/N, sorry, I'm really sorry, I’ll explain !”

“I have the right to give my opinion !” the creature replied, turning to Eddie. "You're ashamed of me, of us ! Anne accepted us ! Anne likes us ! If your new little darling doesn't accept us, then she's not good enough !"

“Anne didn’t really have a choice and we weren’t together anymore, stop talking about her all the time !”

After more or less managing to calm down the "non-parasite" that lived inside him, Eddie did his best to calm down Y/N, who was totally freaked out by what had just happened. He explained to her that Venom was an alien, a symbiote, who needed him to survive, who had helped him on numerous occasions, and who was not dangerous.

"I'm very dangerous ! I'm the lethal protector !"

"What does he mean ?"

"Nothing ! Well, he likes to fight crime, he's dangerous to the bad guys. You have absolutely nothing to fear, I promise. I… I'm so sorry."

Eddie then began to sob, despite all the comfort that Vee tried to give him by telling him that only losers cried like children and that he was pathetic to moan like that, putting them to serious shame.

Even though she was still scared, Y/N couldn't help but hug her boyfriend, trying her best not to touch the alien. She repeated to him that everything was fine, that it wasn't his fault, and that even though this situation was strange, she still wanted to be with him.

This seemed to reassure him, and make him very happy.

Unfortunately, there were three of them in this relationship, and Venom clearly didn't want to be with Y/N at all.

It was him that Eddie had been mumbling to since they met, often arguing about her, as the alien kept comparing her to Anne, his ex girlfriend.

Without any sign of lying in his eyes, he promised her that he hadn't been in love with her for a long time. Their breakup had been difficult, but she had found someone very quickly, Dan, a great guy, and they were married now, and Eddie was very happy for them.

Well, that wasn't easy to believe with Venom growling and hitting his host's head at the end of every sentence, insulting Dan and repeating how great Anne was.

But Eddie seemed really honest. He was friends with his ex, nothing more, and he wanted to be with Y/N now, even if his idiot parasite didn't agree.

He wasn't an optimist by nature, too much had happened to him in life for him to believe in miracles, but Eddie wanted to believe that Vee would come to appreciate her.

He was quite confident as Y/N was doing her best with the symbiote, trying to talk to him, offering him chocolate, keeping an open mind. Many people would have fled the moment they saw this thing coming out of his body. It was quite a good sign.

But like a wild animal, Venom refused to be coaxed. He wanted Anne, Anne was perfect. Nothing would change his mind. Nothing.

"He hates me." Y/N whispered sadly, even though she knew it was useless, because Venom was always with Eddie, even when she couldn't see him. None of their conversation was private.

"Hate is a strong word… He's stubborn, he believes he's right. It's not really against you. If I had always been single, I think he would adore you."

Eddie thought it would be a good idea to introduce her to Anne. In a sense he was right, because it was evident that there was no longer any romantic feeling between them, and that she was very much in love with her husband.

But Y/N couldn't help but do like Venom, and compare herself to the other woman. Beautiful, intelligent, great lawyer with a strong character. It seemed natural to fall for her.

If he sensed her discomfort, the journalist said nothing, spending the evening laughing with the other couple only keeping his hand on her shoulder, putting it back each time Venom forced him to take it off. He was kind enough not to ask her what she had thought of Anne, or if she was reassured. Maybe he was afraid of the answer too.

After that, things got a little complicated. Without doing it on purpose, Y/N put some distance between them. To protect herself, because she only thought of one thing.

One day, Eddie was going to listen to Venom. One day, he was going to see that even if he no longer loved Anne, he could find someone better, and he was going to leave her.

Well, the alien still had contradictory messages. If Y/N sucked, Eddie sucked too. A loser. When he wasn't busy asking for food or criticizing the young woman, he was insulting his poor host.

And if she ended up not listening to what he said about her, only caring about her boyfriend's opinion, she didn't like it at all that Venom treated Eddie so badly.

"No." she said one day, sitting on the sofa, while the journalist was still arguing with the alien for some stupid reason, before throwing up his arms and agreeing to go buy chocolate and tatter tots to calm him down.

"…Uh ? Sorry, Y/N, are you talking to me ?"

"You're not going out."

"Uh. I'll just go to Madam Cheng's. It'll only take a few minutes."

"Venom doesn't deserve chocolate. You stay here, watch the movie with me, and if he apologizes, then he gets some sugar."

“How dare you, stupid woman ?!” the symbiote shouted, showing all its teeth to scare her.

But Y/N wasn’t afraid anymore. Even though he was rude and mean, he had promised Eddie that he would never hurt her, and he seemed to be an alien of words. Aside from his screams, he had nothing against her.

“You, how dare you ?!” she replied, jumping off the couch, which seemed to surprise both Eddie and the symbiote. "I don't care what you think or say about me. I understand that you don't like me, that I'm not good enough, and you know what ? I agree ! Eddie deserves better than me. But he deserves better than you too ! You're an asshole to him ! I forbid you from talking to him like that, or breaking his nose, even if you fix him right after ! He's a great host, you should thank him and do everything to make him happy."

It was stupid, but she started crying as she spoke. Emotions tended to make her cry, even anger. At the silence of her boyfriend and her non-parasite, Y/N felt bad.

She then had the stupid instinct to go lock herself in the bathroom, to try to calm down and remember how to breathe.

From the other side of the door, she heard whispers, but was unable to tell what they were saying.

Then Eddie knocked gently, asking if he could come in, or if she would come out.

"… He's going to apologize ?"

"Yes, I promise."

Trying her tears to not give Venom another reason to make fun of her, Y/N opened shyly, not daring to look at her boyfriend right away, and stood stupidly in front of him, waiting.

“Vee…”

“I’m sorry, brave little morsel.”

"Hmm ? Oh. No, I meant an apology for Eddie."

“He already apologized, love.”

"I don't need him to apologize to me. He meant what he said, and like I said… He's not wrong. But it's nice."

"Little morsel…" Venom whispered, moving closer to her and looking almost sad. "I was totally wrong. I see it now. Eddie explained it to me, but I wasn't listening."

With Eddie translating what he said, the alien explained that for his species, symbiosis was important. They could have several hosts, but there was only one perfect symbiosis, just one.

Part of him wanted to keep his host to himself, jealous and possessive, but that wasn't possible, because contrary to what his attitude seemed to show, he cared about Eddie's happiness.

That was why he was so insistent that he return to Anne. Because from the memories he had seen of his relationship, he had seemed to be in perfect symbiosis with Anne, and since there was only perfect symbiosis, then he had to do everything to get her back, even if she was married to stupid Dan.

He didn’t hate Y/N. It really wasn't personal, it was just logic and survival instinct.

What Venom failed to understand was that human relationships weren't like symbiosis. And in the end, if he had to compare the two, it was now obvious that Eddie's perfect match was with Y/N.

Yes, his ex had helped them, and she would help them again if necessary. But so did Y/N, who had accepted Eddie's special situation, who had stayed despite the horrible things Venom had said, who protected her lover and tried to please the alien.

"Babe…" Eddie sighed, taking her hands. “If anyone is too good for anyone else here, it’s you.”

"He's right."

"… Thank you Vee."

"But you always say she's too good for you. Once we agree, you might be happy !"

"Eddie… You're saying that ?"

"Of course. I still don't know how I managed to seduce you, or why you didn't run away when you saw Vee, or what I did to deserve that such a great girl could think that she's in love with a guy like…"

He jumped a little when she kissed him to stop him from saying any more nonsense, but Eddie quickly relaxed, clinging to her, pinning her against the wall to accentuate the kiss.

Right in their ears they could hear Venom purring in pleasure. They didn't mind until he licked their cheeks.

"Vee ! It's disgusting !"

"You're not listening to me ! I'm telling you to get into bed ! You're going to hurt Y/N if you stay here. A Lady should be caught in satin sheets, surrounded by rose petals, after foreplay of at least twenty minutes, and satisfied several times."

"… What ?!"

"I really like this idea. Eddie, where are my rose petals and at least twenty minutes of foreplay ?"

"Y/N ! Don't team up against me, please !"

"I can help him with endurance. And the rest. I've seen a lot of videos."

"… Okay ! Remind me to take care of my internet history tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, yeah. Less talk, more passion. Little morsel is waiting, I can feel it, and she's ovulating."

"… Aren't you supposed to go get chocolate from Madam Cheng ?"

"Yes ! And I will take the opportunity to explain for the hundredth time why there are things that should not be said."

“But Y/N is wet.”

"And here we go !"

Despite Eddie's explanations, Venom continued to want to give advice and do everything to make his relationship with Y/N perfect.

After all, he had almost ruined everything, so he felt he had an obligation to help these two idiots be happy, living in harmony and understanding what to do to satisfy the other in every situation.

Even if Eddie was already a caring and kind boyfriend, who Y/N didn't want to leave at all despite this little characteristic.

That said, after the alien took the initiative to help with his tongue once, she wasn't really complaining about it.

[pearlymel]

·˚ ༘ ·If bad, then why does it feel good?˚. ༉‧₊˚ ft. Sylus.

SUM. You happen to share genuine feelings with the supposedly man you hate.

WC. 2.5k

WARNINGS. not mc fem! reader, fluffy smut MDNI, emotional feelings, unprotected sēx, soft needy sēx, enemies to lovers type shit, not proofread.

NOTES. Just sylus. Nothing more.

It always comes down to this.

The constant hatred for him, you want to literally pierce a bullet to his head. Why does he have to smirk everytime you try to throw curses towards him? Why does he have to press those dangerous lips over yours to shut you up?

Why does it feel so good everytime?

Damn him.

Lately, something—someone has been bothering you. A certain hunter from Linkon city who seems to have earn herself some attention from the leader of Onychinus.

You squint your eyes at the memory of their interaction, it was pathetic. He didn't seem to have any hatred for her whatsoever, he even seemed to help her.

Is he really pretending to be the good guy in front of her? Or was it all a facade?

“you're zoning out,” Sylus drawls lazily while tapping a finger on your cheek to bring back your attention to him.

Right, you were trying to kill him, again.

You still had him down against the seat while you were above him, still careful not to perch yourself on his lap. Your index that brushed too closely to the trigger shook even more when his thumb played dangerously close to the trigger, resting right on top of your index finger, and you feel like the air is being taken away from your lungs.

“It seems like this isn't entertaining you anymore,” you shoot him a stare and he raises an eyebrow, “perhaps… miss hunter is being too soft on you.”

You watch at how his eyebrows raise in amusement, he knew he had the upper hand in this situation, and it was clear to him that you did as well.

He noticed your voice change, and how your fingers still trembled against the gun still pointed at his chest. Even in your feigned bravado, you couldn't mask your unease. Too easy.

"My," Sylus' eyes darkened as he looked up at you with the slightest curl of his lips lifting upwards, "Are you.. jealous?”

This is ridiculous, and you feel offended even. “Why the hell would i be jealous of stray cats?” you argue back, and he seems almost pleased by your answer, “atta girl.”

Not being able to handle him anymore, you make the decision to press on the trigger without thinking, that the loud bangcaused you to gasp in fear as you drop the gun from your hand.

So close.

Sylus remained still for a few moments as he glanced to his side at the bullet hole on the seat beside his head.

“You missed.” He stated, like he was disappointed.

“Did you not want me to miss?!”

He smiles, "And spoil the fun? Never." Clearly he was playing with your feelings at this point.

He brought a hand up, his fingers tangling into the messy strands of your hair, pulling firmly enough to tilt your head to the side. His eyes studied your own, his gaze roaming over every part of your expression, trying to figure out what you would do next.

"You should try again." He said lowly, his voice almost a whisper. "Maybe you'll hit me this time.”

You press your lips into a thin line at the proximity between you, and your hands find his shoulders, “you can't die.. yet.”

"Oh, don't you worry, sweetie. I'm not gonna die so easily." He let out a dry laugh as if it was obvious.

"That is, unless you end up killing me.”

The change in your expression didn’t go unnoticed by him, the worry, the concern, the frustration, the anger. It's all so interesting.

His hand left your hair to snake around your waist to finally pull you down on his lap, and that's when he felt your hands come to hold his face so dearly, your eyelashes fluttering between his eyes and lips.

You held him close to you as if he was the only thing that mattered—and he was, really.

You embraced him like you were lovers, like you were holding someone dear in your arms. With your arms looped around his shoulders, to pour all your love into his lips, you always did that whenever you kisses. Always soft, sweet, and slow.

Yet Sylus wanted to return the kiss deeply, his tongue trying to seek yours in a desperate, hungry manner. Like he's never kissed you before.

You part your lips for his tongue to delve further in, exploring every inch of your mouth as if he were trying to memorize the taste, the one he's already used to, but it only seems to be sweeter with each exchanged kiss.

He let out a low moan, feeling completely consumed by you. His hands continued to roam your body, exploring every contour and curve, every dip and valley, as if he was trying to commit you to memory.

You pant softly when his lips leave yours to graze the skin of your jawline and neck, but you tug ay his hair before he could do anything.

“no marks.”

“and why?”

“I can't walk around looking like that—”

Then it hits you, what the hell were you even doing?

You push yourself off him, stumbling slightly back when you stood up abruptly, but you don't reach for the hand that's out for you to balance on.

“This is messed up.” You say your thoughts out loud before you could stop yourself, and your fists clench to your sides.

He leaned forward to follow after you, leaving the warmth of the seat behind him, he then speaks with a tilt of his head, "I'd say what we've been doing is pretty normal for our relationship, wouldn't you?"

You sigh, “normal? What even are we?”

Ah, that question.

"Oh, you know. We’re just enemies with a mutual hatred for each other, who just happen to kiss each other on the regular. Nothing out of the ordinary here, sweetie." His tone dripped with sarcasm, “totally nothing odd here.” you try matching his sarcasm with a glare.

He met your glare with his own gaze, his expression suddenly turning serious.

"Why are you acting like doing this," he gestured between the two of you, "is something completely new? Has it ever occurred to you that doing this may actually feel good?" He paused for a moment, watching your expression twist into confusion, “you say you hate me, but let me ask you this: what do you feel when you're around me? Hate, or something else entirely?”

"I—” you press your lips shut when you realise you don't even know the answer to that. How did he feel about this?

"it feels like a drug yet I can't let go off." You settle with your answer quietly.

He takes a slow step forward, “you make it sound like an addiction, sweetie.”

“it is an addiction.” you confirm bluntly, and his smirk widens further.

“Mm, a drug you can't let go of.”

“A drug i need to let go of.”

He stops at his tracks, "You,” Sylus stares down at you, “think you can just let go of me that easily?" He asked, before moving closer, his body practically looming over yours now, trapping you against the wall. His hand came up to rest on the wall beside your head, his arm caging you in.

You're trapped, with nowhere to go, “i made a mistake, I'll leave—”

“No.” he captured your wrist in a tight grip when you tried making your way out.

Sylus’ grip on your wrist loosened when you winced the first time he grabbed it, his hand shifting down instead to intertwine his fingers with yours.

"You really think I'd just let you walk out that door and never see you again? You must be joking," he scoffs, his tone taking a lower route, and you're surprised.

"You're... you're mine, damnit.”

You blink twice, “since.. when?”

He lets out a sharp exhale, his patience and self-control slowly fading. "Since our first shared kiss," he practically growls out, "you may be a difficult, infuriating, little brat, but goddamnit if you're not mine.”

Sylus can see the range of emotions flickering across your face as you digest his words, those same expressions he always sees, this time, it's all anger and frustration.

"You look like you're about to explode, darling," he says, his voice coming out in a mocking drawl. "Want to shout at me? Let it out. Tell me how much you hate me again, because we both know that's bullshit.”

“it's no—”

“don't even try to lie to me,”

“i hate y—”

“lying, again.”

“Sylus.” You let out sharply, you were getting tired or him cutting you off.

He listens, it doesn't feel too shocking now. You're just.. overwhelmed.

Do you feel like crying? Yes. Do you want to really cry in front of him? No, of course not. But the tears threatening around your eyes is too hard to wipe off now.

And Sylus tenses when he realized the gravity of the situation, he doesn't waste time to lift your chin up. And the sight makes his heart ache abnormally.

“don't,” he whispers softly before taking you in a warm embrace, where your face us pressed against his chest.

You exhale, the hug is genuine, it feels like he's hugging your heart. You wrap you arms back around him, no wonder you always feel your little heart beating around him.

"we're both stubborn, hot-headed, and too proud to back down," He whispers against your hair, “But beloved, i… am sorry if i failed to see your genuine feelings.”

You tighten your arms around him, beloved, you like the sound of that.

You tip your head back up, and you can notice the way his eyes seem to soften… like that one snowy time.

And you lean to peck his lips, it makes him smile before he returns the kiss with a gentle press of his lips onto yours.

…

You mentally agreed with yourself that you would stop at kissing. Only a few kisses here and there… It felt too easy and natural to listen to his whispers

Your eyes rolled back almost every time he nudged against your sweet spot, making your jaw slack, and you don't let go off the hem of his blouse for not even a second with how of a tight hold you had on the fabric.

You would both get like this everytime your emotions were heightened. You crave this, it's a need at this point.

But this time it's different, it doesn't feel like two beasts ravishing eachother, this feels… slow, and romantic.

You both were not even fully undressed.

"Sylus," you whispered breathlessly, followed by a soft whine with how full you felt with the inches buried deep inside you.

spreading your legs even wider, Sylus pushed himself deeper until you took all of him. His hands caressing your trembling thighs, "Feel me, what you do to me." His hips snapped forward in a slow rhythm, grinding against your sensitive clit with each thrust.

Sweat glistened on his skin as he worked you over, oh how tortuous it felt with you clenching around him, your slick walls fluttering and massaging his aching cock. The wet sounds of your skins filled the room, obscene and erotic.

Sylus reveled in it, in the knowledge that he was the one making you break so beautifully.

Leaning in, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your desperate moans. His tongue delved into your mouth, claiming you thoroughly as his hips continued their slow rhythm—threatening to just thrust in fast and hard.

Yet he knew better than to ruin the moment.

Breaking the kiss, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your intoxicating scent. "Do you want to cum?" he murmured huskily, his words vibrating against your skin. "I want to feel you come all over my cock." His fingers found your clit, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nub but your hand tries to pry his fingers away, you didn't want this to end just yet.

“Please no, i-i want to feel more of you.. harder.” a plea, and he swears you're going to be the death of him.

"Greedy princess, aren't you? Wanting more of me even when you're already stuffed full." He punctuated his words with a particularly deep thrust, grinding his pelvis against yours. You could feel every thick, hard inch of him buried inside you, stretching you deliciously.

His hands now gripped your hips bruisingly tight as he started to move faster, harder. Just like you wanted, he was only following along.

"I'll give you more, sweetie. I'll fuck you so deep, so hard, you'll feel me for days," Sylus promised with a chuckle, and you arch your back while pulling at the fabric of his blouse, "gonna ruin this pussy until it's molded perfectly to my cock."

True to his word, he picked up the pace, pounding into you relentlessly. And you wanted to scream.

“h-hah, right there—” your head rolled back and your lips stayed parted, your eyes half-lidded and you could barely feel your legs.

Sylus could feel his own release fast approaching, his balls drawing up tight, but he gritted his teeth, holding himself back. He wanted to make you come first, wanted to feel your slick walls spasming around him.

"That's it, sweetie" he panted, “Mmh—ah—!” and you cry out when you came, it felt different, you feel wetter than before, you just squirted without even realising from how fucked out your head was.

Sylus groaned as he felt you gushing all over his crotch, your body quivering and quaking in the throes of your intense orgasm. "Fuuuck, that's it my love, let it all out," he rasped, continuing to thrust into your fluttering heat as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

As your climax subsided, leaving you boneless and panting, Sylus slowed his thrusts but didn't stop. He rolled his hips in deep, languid strokes, savoring the feeling of your slick walls clenching around his throbbing length.

Sylus drank in your needy whimpers and moans with messy kisses this time, “I love you," he babbled, and you barely comprehend what he had just said.

And with a final thrust, Sylus buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself deep inside you. He groaned long and low, his hips twitching with each spurt of his release into you.

You both gaze into eachother's eyes after calming down, your eyes trying to search for the love in them.

“what are you starting at?” You mumble first, breaking the silence. He caresses your cheek at first, “etching your face in my head.” His answer was simple, yet it meant too much to you.

“Did you mean it?” You can't help but ask, “when you said you.. love me?”

Sylus’ lips spread before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “i love you.” He whispered his declaration of love to you quietly for the second time.

[sceletaflores]

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

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

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

Baby, show me where it hurts...

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

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

— or: art donaldson needs a massage therapist…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You do.

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

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

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

"What the fuck."

SIX DAYS LATER...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No question marks. Motherfucker.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who are you to deny him?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Without breaking eye contact, you speak.

“You’re so good, Art.” 

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

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

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need you.”

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

Fuck.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX HOURS LATER…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Art okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

Art loves you.

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

“He smiles more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was never about the goddamn massages.

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

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

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

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

These people are so fucking weird.

[whateverloomis]

🖤 Dilf!Billy Loomis x AFAB reader (Stepcest)

🖤 Part 2

Warnings: Stepcest, predetermined family, fingering, teasing, p in v, roughness, infidelity, unprotected sex, dirty talk, daddy kink, slight degradation, mentions of Stu, age gap (middle aged Billy and reader in their 20s,) AFAB reader (no pronouns,) unedited

Your mother had never been shy with her love life. She's had multiple partners after your dad passed away. Random hookups with attractive older men happened pretty often too. You're sure it's all been to fill the void and drown the unwanted emotions.

You've never really had the best relationship with her, you bud heads a lot and have grown distant since your biological dad passed, not to mention the countless arguments about every little inconvenience.

For that reason and many others you haven't been secretive about the attraction towards your step father, Billy Loomis. You don't care if he actually loves her or not. You'll let any selfish thoughts cross your mind and oh boy, you want that man inside you as soon as possible.

He's been living with you and your mother for 2 years and as time went by it got more difficult to contain yourself around him, especially since he openly flirts with you and you swear that one of these days you're going to jump on his cock the second you find a chance.

One particular day your mother left for the weekend on a business trip. You were more than sure that she'd been cheating on Billy with his best friend, Stu Macher. They've worked together for years and it's so obvious that they've got something going on.

To be completely honest, you wouldn't mind having Stu as your next step father. He's just as hot as Billy and you never miss the way that he checks you out whenever you're around him. Gosh, if you could have both of them at the same time you know you'd cum the second they both lay hands on you.

Being alone with Billy for the weekend was going to be difficult. You haven't hooked up with anyone in so long and touching yourself isn't satisfying anymore. The way he shamelessly walks around shirtless with sweatpants that highlight his cock drives you crazy and you don't know how you'll survive around him.

Because of that you were feeling bold. You wanted to risk it all, and you did.

It was a Saturday morning and you wake up ready to take the day off to relax after a long week. After you brushed your teeth and showered, you went to the kitchen in just a thong, a thin cotton crop and knee high socks. You knew Billy would walk in the kitchen any second after hearing the water turn off in the shower and were ready to pounce at any moment.

"Well good morning to you too." The sound of his deep voice instantly sent shivers down your spine.

Billy was standing against the countertop behind you shamelessly looking at your exposed ass and gorgeous legs. His hair was damp from the shower and slicked back. No shirt on. Grey sweatpants. He was out to hunt and you were his easy prey.

Turning around, you smiled innocently at him and pointed at the stove, "You want pancakes? I'm making myself some."

Billy could see right through you and he wasn't playing your games.

At your question he chuckled and walked towards you. His hands instantly found your waist and his eyes captured yours, "I'm hungry for something else," he said and squeezed your flesh slightly, his eyes lingering on your tits before scanning your face.

He was driving you mad. You couldn't help but bite your lower lip to suppress a pathetic moan that threatened to come out of you.

Billy seemed to notice and smirked at your reaction, "I don't think your mother would like knowing you're walking around the house looking like that while I'm here," he said and it was your turn to chuckle at his nonchalant comment.

"I don't think she'd like to see her husband grab me like he is right now but here we are," you answered and he lost it.

Billy ran his hands down and under your ass cheeks before picking you up. He sat you on the counter and positioned himself between your legs. His large hands rested on your thighs and he occasionally squeezed them.

"Don't use that tone with me," he said half serious and you laughed teasingly as his words.

"Why? Is daddy gonna ground me? Hm?" you teased further and Billy grabbed your face with his right hand under your jaw, making you look into his eyes. You smirked at him and that was enough, the man crashed his lips against yours and kissed you hungrily.

You were desperate. Both of you were. Your hands were tangled in his hair and he was holding you impossibly close to his body. He groped your ass as you rocked against him slowly.

He was hard and needy before, but having you like this was going to make him cum right then and there if he wasn't careful.

Billy slid one of his hands from your ass to your hip, down your inner thigh and finally over your core. He felt the wetness through the fabric of your thong and he gasped at you mockingly, "I've barely touched you and you're already soaked," he said and you whined softly. So desperate to feel him inside you. Your body ached for his cock.

The man couldn't contain himself much longer. He was already pulling your panties to the side and playing with your cunt. Rubbing your sensitive bud in circular motions and running his fingers down to your throbbing hole, dipping them just enough to pleasure you but not enough to satisfy the craving. He was torturing you. Torturing himself.

"Mm... Billy please," you moaned and grabbed his big hand, pushing his fingers all the way inside you and whining at the feeling of finally being filled up. It still wasn't enough but fuck did it feel amazing when he started to fuck you with his fingers.

You throbbed around him and he groaned at the feeling.

"Fuck baby, you feel so good... I bet you'll feel better around my dick," he whispered in your ear as you fucked yourself with his fingers.

You grabbed his cock and felt how big he is. Gosh you were so right when you imagined him as you rode your dildo in your room alone at night.

"Mmphh... Please fuck me," you begged and Billy pulled his fingers out of your cunt, sucking on them teasingly and moaning at your taste.

He pulled you towards him by your thighs and you wrapped your arms around his neck instinctively. He held your legs around his middle and carried you to his and your mother's bedroom.

After he released you, you crawled on the bed and positioned yourself on the edge on all fours, giving him a perfect view of your behind. You slowly removed your thong for him and revealed your glistening cunt.

Billy groaned at the sight and pulled his sweatpants down just enough to release his throbbing cock. He wanted to eat you up and taste your whole body but right then he couldn't handle the sight of your waiting hole. He'd been wanting to bury himself inside you for so long, and when he finally did you both moaned at the same time.

He didn't bother to wear protection and you honestly didn't give a fuck at that point. You didn't care if your stepfather knocked you up, as fucked up as it sounds.

"Ahh fuck... Harder Daddy, harder!" You nearly screamed, and to that he complied.

Billy grabbed your hips harshly and pounded you hard enough that you felt his cock all the way up your stomach. He pressed your head against the mattress, your back arched perfectly for him and the sight of your ass cheeks bouncing against him was nearly enough to make him cum inside you, but he was smarter than that of course.

"Getting fucked by your stepfather, who does that?" He shamed you and it made you throb around him. You were nearly going to cum just by hearing his words, it was a chase for release between the two of you.

After a few more thrusts the knot inside you finally broke as his tip brushed against your gspot. You came around him and screamed at the feeling of the intense waves that were coursing through your body. You had one, two, three mini orgasms after the big O and fuck you needed more.

Billy nearly bust his load inside your sweet pussy, but he managed to pull out and cum all over your back. He took a mental picture at how good your body looked covered in his seed.

"I'll clean up the mess for you," he whispered teasingly before giving you a lingering kiss.

As he walked into the bathroom you heard the front door open. Your mom and Stus voice echoed in the living room.

Fuck.

"I'll take care of it..."

•

I know I know, we hate cliffhangers but I love teasing y'all :p ;)

Hope you enjoyed reading <33

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Kinktober - Day 13

13th — mommy kink, Max Verstappen

The previous day I The next day I Kinktober masterlist I Main list

Prompt: You are his team principal, and lately, things haven’t gone very smoothly how he wanted. So overnight meeting back at the factory or sometimes through Zoom is a must to save both the WDC and WCC’s titles for Max and the team. And it’s all too much since Christan didn’t realise how fucked up the car is and change it like Toto once said publicly before on the Drive to Survive show, before handling to you his position. 

You could always tell when something had become too much for Max. His shoulders would slump impossibly further, and you could tell that he was ready to leave. so you’d find a way to swoop him away, it seemed like you were always at the ready to get him out of situations you knew he would be uncomfortable in. Maybe that’s where his little kink had come from. You weren’t sure, all you knew was he’d said it once, and from then you’d taken up the mantle.

you settled on your shared bed, body reclined against the pillow as Max laid next to you, head resting on your chest, “I’m sorry, mommy.”

Your mouth parted in question, hand stopping its comforting movement against his back, “for what?”

He shifted, his body rolling to rest between your legs, hands moving to push your shirt up to your chin, his tired eyes flickered from your breasts to your face, “for making you leave early...”

Your hand moved, guiding his head to your right breast, nodding at him to verify that you were okay with what he was doing before speaking again, “mommy isn’t mad, Maxie.”

Max looks up at you with tear-filled eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, Mommy. I didn't mean to cause such a scene earlier. I just... I couldn't handle being there anymore."

He takes a shaky breath, burying his face in your cleavage as if seeking comfort and protection from the world outside this room.

"I hate feeling like this. Weak and pathetic. I'm supposed to be strong, to be able to handle anything life throws at me. But I can't. Not anymore..."

His fingers clutch at the fabric of your shirt, knuckles turning white as he fights to keep control over his emotions.

"You're the only one who understands, Mommy. The only one who knows how to help me feel better again. Please... please don't let go of me."

“I will always be by your side, Maxie. Until you no longer need me…”

That’s all it took for him to latch on, suckling at your nipple until you hissed from the sting of it. his tongue followed afterwards, soothing the ache he’d inflicted, before he let go, his teeth dragging against you until you winced, a wet ‘pop’ echoing through the room. His hand moved from its place on your hip to wipe at the saliva on his face, and maybe you found that hotter than you should have, cunt leaking against the abdomen of his nightshirt. You keened his name when he latched on to the other peak of your breast, your pussy clamping around nothing already, your mind argued that you’d let him do this for as long as he wanted, he deserved it.

Max groans lowly as he nurses from your other breast, his tongue swirling and teasing the sensitive bud. He sucks harder, drawing out your moans and whimpers as he drinks in your pleasure.

"Mmm, Mommy..." he murmurs against your skin, his voice husky with desire. 

"You taste so sweet. So perfect. I could do this all day, every day..." His free hand slides down your stomach, fingers tracing the damp heat of your arousal through the thin fabric of his nightshirt. He presses against you firmly, feeling your clit throb against his palm.

"Do you want me to make you feel good, Mommy? To take care of you like only I can?" Max's words are punctuated by nibbles and kisses along your collarbone, working his way back up to your ear. Max's fingers dip below the waistband of your pants, searching for the slick heat of your core. When he finds it, he groans in satisfaction, rubbing slow circles over your clit as he continues to lavish attention on your breasts.

"Oh, Mommy... you're so wet for me already," he whispers, his hot breath fanning over your skin.

"Does the thought of me inside you, claiming you completely, make you this desperate for release?" With his other hand, Max tugs at the hem of his nightshirt, baring his hips and the rigid length of his cock to your hungry gaze. Pre-cum beads at the tip, evidence of his own arousal. "Tell me what you need, baby," he coaxes, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. "I'll give it to you. Anything, everything..."

Max's fingers slip past your panties, delving deep into your soaked folds. He pumps them slowly, curling to stroke your inner walls, as his thumb continues to circle your swollen clit.

"That's it, Mommy, ride my fingers," he encourages, his voice dripping with lust. "Show me how badly you crave it. How much do you need my cock filling you up."

He adds a third finger, scissoring and stretching you open as he drives in and out. His grip tightens, pulling you onto his hand as he thrusts faster, chasing your climax.

"You're so close, aren't you? I can feel you tightening around me," Max growls, his own erection throbbing with the need to be buried inside you. "Come for me, Mommy. Let go and scream my name."

“Maxie… Please…” 

Max groans deeply as he feels your walls flutter around his fingers, your orgasm crashing over you in intense waves. He works you through it, prolonging your pleasure until you collapse back against the pillows, spent and satisfied.

"That's my good girl," he praises, withdrawing his fingers and bringing them to his mouth to lick them clean. "So sweet and responsive, always ready for me."

Max shifts positions, settling between your spread thighs. He lines himself up with your entrance, the head of his cock nudging your sensitive flesh. "I love you, Mommy," he whispers fervently, "and I promise I'll never leave you. We belong together, always and forever."

With a smooth thrust of his hips, Max sheathes himself fully inside you, a guttural moan tearing from his throat at the exquisite sensation.

Taglist:@formula1-motogpfan@iamafootballfanmiasanmia@arian-directioner@annimausi@mythicalmaven@lucycowr@hamilton-mount @Chuxk-leclerk @landosgirl @Kikiaaaay @iluvvmeeee @stars4me @starz4me1 @fxrmuladaydreams @Ashleyo1611 @ln-fours @cloud-55 @neo-stay @mysteriesincorporated @nzygftoji @dinodumbass @qxeenjen @lilmacabe @9fi @sya-skies @toriiez @jud-3 @ryl-xoxo @fandomz-queenie @gracie23x @kr1sblog @b-law @F1fan24 @taylorsdoratheafr @missevrythingg @salma @cherrypopsicle @toasterpiastri @uhhvictoria @01rrdbull @aracelys-stuff @horseymchorse3 @lou-ghoul @unknownmystery22 @thisbitxhs-blog @toxicdreamer296 @maxivstappen @si1ver06 @mendes-bae @bestgirlie @mbioooo0000 @depressedgiftedburnout @lieslostinsilence @chaoticversion @kaydesssssssss @maryelizaart @milkyymelanine @bisrae @carlando4 @mystichandspruneshark @sweetwh0re @larastark3107 @fiveyjustin @moonchildlec @bicrazybabe @maximumflaps @sainzwife @i--sa @liviav @nitonan-blog @moodymoony71 @horrible-decision @verstappenluv111 @Meyla123X @bea-stilinksi24 @Hayley125 @imjustme-n @elizamoe133 @bernelflo @evie-likes-stuff @anne1444444 @celtis--vr @rockytheluver @orlafitz1664 @aliceespector @ricciadosredbull @novelant @briannamh07 @oliveswiftly @hotlapshottakes @sinners-98-world @ramenblutte @fallenlunar @little-nando14 @fore45fore @importantduckhumanoidpatrol @eroselless @strabunny @sydneyhlove @jkdaddy01 @multi-fandom5 @f1-hoff @kittylolly4 @reguluscrystals @uhhvictoria @arian-directioner @forza-dolce @dukeofjjune @vimayxo @ilove-tswizzle @peachapat119

[daddy-issues-99]

Venom x Reader Smut

In my last poll y'all voted for a Venom fanfic and I got the message 😏

Plot: you want to shower but feel uncomfortable with Venom watching you and iykyk

Afab reader, shower sex, size kink, biting, blood, fingering, praise, a little degration, aftercare

The last few days had been pure hell. Nothing but conflict and a new roommate.

You sat curled up on your couch, knees held tight to your chest. You were so tired. You had been on alert for what seemed like days. All you wanted to do was shower and go to bed.

If only it were that simple. Everything you did was met with a deep voice inside your head. Every action, statement, movement; everything.

No way were you gonna try and shower with this thing looking at you and commenting on your every move.

You let out a sigh. You were so tired you didn't even care anymore. "Where are you going?"

"I'm talking a shower." "Finally, your thoughts were becoming annoying." This was gonna be a nightmare. You walked to the bathroom slowly discarding your clothes as you went leaving you just in your bra and panties when you got to the bathroom.

"You are a nice shape. I would rip you apart." He said as you turned on the shower. "You are such a fucking perv." You moved your hands to the hem of your panties wanting to take them off only to stand their blushing. You felt so exposed.

"Well?" He asked wondering why you just stood there. "You're making me nervous. This is to embarrassing." You said bringing your hands to cover your face.

As soon as your hands left your sides two black tendrils quickly pulled your underwear down. Before you could even react he had done the same to your bra, throwing them to the side.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You yelled trying to cover your exposed figure.

"I am in your head. I am apart of you. I have already seen every part of your body." You just stood there baffled. "Don't be embarrassed, your look lovely. Go on, I won't judge darling."

You blushed at the comment. His voice made it even harder to remain neutral.

You carefully stepped into the shower and closed the door behind you. You let out an instant sigh of relief the minute the hot water made contact with your skin.

"You are relaxed." He stated in a matter of fact tone. "This is the most relaxed I've felt in days." You said rinsing shampoo out of your hair. "Why? You have no reason to be stressed." "I'm stressed because of you jackass!" You yelled with sarcasm in your voice.

In an instant you were pinned up against the shower wall as black tendrils fell into the floor forming a large figure with large teeth and bright white eyes. Small tendrils keeping the two of you conneced. His hand quickly went to your throat making sure you couldn't move.

"How dare you. I have given you an amazing opportunity and you insult me. You don't deserve my partnership." He said tightening his grip around your throat causing you to hold your thighs together.

He slowly looked down to see your thighs held tightly together. His face contorted into a wide smile. "Something you find amusing pet?" He asked squeezing your throat causing you to let out a small moan.

"Such a pathetic thing. Can't even answer a question." "I-Im not pathetic." You said trying to talk with his hand squeeze your airway. "Oh really? You say you hate me and yet your arousal is showing my darling." "I'm- I'm not-" "You can't hide how you truly feel. I'm a part of you. I can feel every sensation you do. Every thought that goes througg your head I see. Now tell me my darling, what do you want?"

"You."

"Good girl."

Venom leaned down to your neck leaving a trail of small bite marks just enough so it would draw blood which he happily licked up with his long tounge.

"This is going to hurt." He said before opening his jaw as wide as possible and biting your shoulder, his teeth sinking into your flesh. You screamed only for his free hand to quickly cover your mouth.

He licked up the blood and leaned back to see his work. "This mark will forever symbolize that You. Are. Mine. Do you understand?" You quickly nodded you head as a tear ran down your cheek. "Good."

With that the remaining tendrils still attached to your body quickly healed the bite leaving only the scars from his teeth.

"Please" "Please what?" He asked towering over you once more "Please touch me!" You whined.

"So desperate. I think you'll like this." With that he directed your head down to where his tendrils formed into a large cock. Your eyes widened in shock. "V, how is that gonna fit?"

"We'll just need a little extra help." His hand moved down to your clit rubbing slow painful circles. You head fell into his chest as you let out breathy moans.

"Look at you, so desperate for me. Pathetic." He let out a low laugh continuing his assault on your clit. "I-Im not-" You cried out and buried your head back in his chest, gripping his shoulders as he quickly inserted one of his large fingers inside you.

"You were saying?" He said contorting his face into a smirk. "Mm fuck you." "Oh I intend to. Or shall I stop?" He said as he began to pull away from you. "No! I-I'm sorry just please touch me!" "As you wish."

He continued his pace as he added another finger. Every thrust was pure bliss and you could feel your orgasm building. "Cum for me pet." Venom quickened his pace hitting your cervix with the tips of his fingers. You cringed thinking what his cock would do.

The knot in your stomach finally came undone with Venom thrusting in and out of you as fast as he could letting you ride out your high.

You opened your mouth letting out a loud moan only to be silenced when a long tounge filled your mouth,going down your throat giving you a makeshift kiss triggering your gag reflex.

"You did wonderful my pet. " Venom pulled his fingers out bringing his hand down to his cock. He rubbed your juices on his cock as a makeshift lube to try to prevent as much pain as possible.

Venom listed you by your waist as you quickly wrapped your legs around his torso holding yourself close to him. He pushed you back up against the shower aligning his cock between your folds rubbing the tip at your entrance.

You let out a whimper. "Don't worry. You will be okay. If it's to much you can bite down on my shoulder." With that he slowly began to lower you down onto his cock. You screamed instantly biting down onto his shoulder trying to silence your screams. Venom didn't even respond.

He stopped when you had taken in as much as you could, still leaving some of his cock exposed. "Your so tight. Smaller than I thought." You didn't respond. Venom pressed you harder up against the wall and brought a hand up to brush through your hair. "You will be okay my darling."

He intertwined his hand in your hair slowly pulling your head back to look up at him. A tear ran down your cheek which he gently brushed off with his thumb. "Don't worry. If you need me to stop I will." He brought his forehead to rest against yours as you adjusted to his size.

After a moment you gave a small nod indicating that he could move. His thrusts were slow, only moving a few inches. At first it was painful but after a while it became pleasurable. You whined and buried your have in the crook of his neck.

He continued his thrusts slowly quickening his pace pushing himself as far in as he could. You quickly became a moaning mess, whispering curses of pleasure.

"Look at you. So needy, so pathetic. I love it." He roughly thrusted into you. "Say it." He said, his teeth gritted. "I'm pathetic! I'm nothing I'm pathetic!"

"Good girl." You buried your face in his neck, hiding the blush covering your face.

Venom continued his thrusts all concerns of being gentle thrown out the window. This was pure lust. Rough, sloppy thrusts. Every one hitting your sweet spot. You rolled your hips forward giving your clit more friction.

"V, I'm close." "Cum for me, cum on my cock. Prove I'm the only being who could ever bring you this much pleasure." Your gripped his shoulders as he quickened his thrusts, holding onto your hips tight enough to leave a bruise.

The knot in your stomach came undone. You screamed in pure pleasure as Venom continued his pace allowing you to ride out your high. Venom soon followed coating your walls with ropes of cum.

Venom pulled out of you setting you back down on your feet. You fell limp and Venom quickly wrapped his arms around you as you rested your head against his chest.

Venom shifted you so the shower watter was hitting your back. He grabbed the washcloth and some soap and began to gently wipe away the thin layer of sweat that had formed. He continued cleaning you off making sure to get every part of you and carefully rinced you off.

He turned off the focet and picked you up bridal style resting you on your sink. He grabbed a towel and wrapped in around you drying you off. He wrapped the towel around you and grabbed a hairbrush, slowly brushing your hair sending shivers down your spine.

You rested your head against his chest lazily trying to keep you eyes open. Venom gently caressed your hair whispering sweet nothings.

He picked you up, holding you close to his chest as you absentmindedly played with the hem of the towel. He gently placed you down on the bed giving you one final kiss as he slowly absorbed back into your body.

"I love you V." "I love you to my darling." With that a tendil quickly formed from your hip and pulled the blanket over you as you drifted off to sleep.

[snowsinterlude]

overprotective, lovesick, deranged.

(yandere coriolanus x reader)

summary: your ex boyfriend couldn't seem to let you go.

if i can't have you, no one can.

trigger.warning: yandere coriolanus, obslove (obsessive love), stockholm syndrome, drugging (no its not for sexual purposes), pregnancy, marriage, horror, depictions to murder (explicit), dubcon, p in v, cockwarming, extremely toxic behavior, unhinged coriolanus, this fanfic contains extreme toxic behavior and too much blood, if uncomfortable with that content, please, don't read it.

"This might get a little messy, I'm sure.

Heads rolling for the one I adore

This may become a little brutal if I'm honest

But it's any-anything for you my dear, I promise"

overprotective.

coriolanus snow was a man of ambition; one of those who won't quiet down until the moment he had what he wanted. this was something that happened to the women he got involved with too.

lucy gray baird was one of those. the moment your now ex-boyfriend was sent to district 12 you could tell something was wrong. you could not care less, though. he wasn't your boyfriend anymore and in your most honest opinion it was something good.

when he came back you were with a different man; one named valentine, who stayed with you when you saw coriolanus kissing lucy gray. who comforted you during this time and who hugged you everynight when the thunders during rain times echoed so hard that made you feel like being killed by one of those.

valentine, who's head was decapitated in front of you.

coriolanus, who was smiling to you as he opened the 'gift' he had prepared to you.

you, who couldn't help but throw up at the sight of your dead boyfriend. you, who passed out by the sick sight of his decapitated head, his eyes opened by strings of a red line, needled carelessly. the same eyes who used to look at you with so much affection and love, now weren't looking at you at all.

when you woke up, your hands were tightly wrapped up in a tight knot that he learned to do as a peacekeeper. strung up reasons.

"good morning, my love." he smiled, kissing your forehead. you were still in the kitchen, dressed in a white dress, you didn't remember putting it on. you didn't like the fabric nor the color of white- it would always get stained too easily. "you finally woke up."

you didn't had to think much to know that what happened wasn't a dream. it was real. he killed your boyfriend.

you opened your mouth, and the scream you left was enough for him to slap you across the face. once you begun to cry, he kneeled in front of you, hands cupping your face as you shaked.

"it's okay baby, snow's here for you,"" he kissed your face, making you melt into crying as hard as you could, sob after sob making your doll heart heavy. "remember you used to call me snowflake?" he asked, and you nodded cowardly, afraid of saying anything that might make him furious. "i'm still your snowflake."

and he hugged you, caressing your scalp as you ugly cried in front of him, but to him, you would never look ugly.

lovesick.

with your face pressed against the mattress, you stared at the gigantic mirror that covered an entire wall, watching yourself.

it's been three months since valentine died, and two months since snow untied you, carried you like a princess bride and bathed you, always murmuring the waltz that played when you both met.

maybe it wasn't so bad after all. he took extra care of you, never slapped you again- it was a relapse. he took care of the red slap mark in your cheek, apploed ointment on you everyday, prepared your favorite meals and left you to your own peace, let you mourn the death of that pathetic boy you decided to date.

it wasn't his fault, right? no- it was. why the hell were you thinking that the victim was the one to put to blame for their own death? are you dumb?

well, you aren't- but you're starting to become.

why were you smiling at him as he showed you the dress he brought you? why did your heart flutter when he made you desserts? c'mon now, he killed your boyfriend. ex-boyfriend?

he wasn't there to protect you now, was he? why would he be important in anyway? of course, he was the sweetest to you, never questioned when you moaned coryo's name instead of his, he knew how hard it was to you.

for fucks sakes, what were you doing? what were you thinking?

coriolanus entered the room he made to you after three knocks, a tray with golden white details on his hand, with two toasts, less than a dozen pancakes that he knew you liked, a cup of strawberry juice and a small bow of green grapes.

once you ate at least half of it and drink the juice, he was by your side, caressing your hair.

"bunny?" he called, taking you off your own state of blankness.

"yes?"

"do you hate me?" you wanted to say yes. wanted to spit on his face for asking such a dumb question after holding you hostage and killing your boyfriend, you truly wanted to.

but you didn’t. "no," and maybe you didn't hated him at all. maybe that juice with the truth-telling pill didn't had much of an effect on you

"hm." he hummed, lips curling into the pretty smile he had. "it's good to know that."

he put the tray aside, laying by your side. why have you been laying like a sick woman at it's death bed? ah. yeah, he didn’t liked the idea of you going away, he said he didn’t want you to leave him. how cute.

you smiled at the thought. then you had to gather all the senses you had left to scold yourself.

it didn't last long though, the moment his hands found your hips and started grinding on you, you felt aroused. you shouldn't be, this was the man that killed your boyfriend. this was the man who slapped you. this was the man who didn't let you go around the house with the excuse that he didn’t want you to leave him.

but of course, your cunt didn't had the same thought that you did. so, by the amount of teasing and the way his soft, slender fingers found your clit almost immediatly, you couldn't help but moan and grind back, feeling as if you were humiliating yourself.

"s-stop that, coryo. please." you said. "i'm still mourning valentine's death-"

"i'm sorry, dove, but your pussy doesn't seem to agree with that." and he rolled your nightgown up, pulled his pants down and finally his dick was grinding against your wetness, the tip teasing your clit as he didn’t went inside, why he wasn't going inside? you needed him in.

your breath hitched at the thought, your hand gripping the sheets as he slowly thrusted, but never inside of you.

"tell me, dove, do you want it in?" he asked, his index finger teasing your clit.

"n..no, i-i don't-" he chuckled at your own lies, you felt like laughing too, the exact moment he kissed your shoulder you had to close your own lips, aware that you would end up smiling at him.

"i don't think you don't want it. tell me, baby, what do you want exactly?"

your breath hitched, you could feel how harder your nipples were compared to before. you shouldn't be wanting this. and you knew that. but you loved him so much.

"y-you. please, i'm sorry, coryo." what were you sorry about? you didn't do anything wrong other than mourn and cry.

"you're forgiven, baby. now, just let me enter you, okay?" you nodded. you were pathetic, that nod was pathetic, looking at you in the mirror was pathetic, seeing how you surrendered so easily to his touch was pathetic- the fact that you were ovulating was pathetic. the fact he knew you were fertile was psychotic, and mostly pathetic cause it was you who let him know about it when you were both dating.

you slurred a long and low moan out of your mouth, your eyes closed shut the second your walls were slowly stretched by his dick, it wasn't as painful as the first time, but you felt like being ripped apart.

dubiously, you let his dick kiss your uterus like never before. you felt so ridiculous when his dick went further into you, when your warm walls squeezed his dick into you, when your pussy felt like gushing and you cockwarmed him with pleasure, and you fucked him back, moving your hips almost like you didn't want him to see you moving.

"you would look so good pregnant, don't you think, baby?" he asked, his hand going upwards and abandoning your clit to pass on your belly. "you'd be so pretty. more than you are already"

you shook your head, panic taking over you.

"p-please, coryo. don't do it, not inside, please. not inside" of course, he didn’t even cared about your mewls, thrusting harder into you, earning a bunch of moans out of your mouth, your voice echoing as he spread your legs and made you look into the mirror to see the mess you were.

your boobs bouncing out of your nightdress, your pussy beautifully welcoming his dick inside your cunt, his balls slapping against your clit due to the pose, and the more you concentreated on the pleasure, you were closer to cumming.

"yeah, keep squeezing me like that, dove" he said into your year, sucking on your neck. you moaned as an answer "i'm gonna fuck my baby's into you."

you squeezed him too tightly, your pussy gushing around him before finally cumming. too good, too good. were all that you could think of.

"such a pretty girl, baby. you will be such a good mom." he said, finally cumming inside of you, the hot seed flowing inside you and leaking a bit.

you turned to see his face, recieving a kiss that you promptly deepened.

you were doomed.

deranged.

his grandma'am was the one to acompany you to the altar. the entire panem was there or outside waiting to see the marriage of the new president snow.

you smiled at him under the veil, your swollen round belly being the one that claimed attention more than anything. you were in fact a beautiful mom, carrying his twin girls in your heart and stomach.

you still loved him after all, who would know?

not even him expected you to say yes, not in the marriage, not at the proposal, and not at any other situation, specially when he was impregnating you.

"do you, mr. snow, accept mrs. y/n as your wife?" the priest asked, a sweet smile on his elderly lips.

"i do."

"and you, mrs. y/n, accept mr. snow as your husband?" he asked to you, and you smiled, cherry lipstick covering your lips.

"i do."

you caved your own grave, and you knew it. but if you died, you would take him with you.

that's what love is about.

[mikareo]

eternal sunshine ── itoshi rin

w.c. 841 content: itoshi rin x fem reader, post-break up angst

༘⋆📼˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

are you okay?

he keeps asking. that same question appears in your messages a few times a day, a few times too many. it's nice to know he cares, a little bit in the slightest at least, but it doesn't help with the raw aching in the center of your chest— where all of the affection you hold for rin is struggling to find a place in your body to settle. it's pulling at your skin and tugging your limbs, urging your fingers to type the infamous 'i miss you' that lives in the delusion your heart wants to come true.

but you do miss him.

you really miss him.

you want to move on, but you can't. you can't seem to push past the denial that you aren't together anymore. you broke up. he broke up with you. you aren't a couple. you aren't his girlfriend. you aren't the love of his life. rin will forget about you. he'll forget you. you don't matter.

you're nothing and he's everything.

he holds so much real estate in your chest that you find yourself starting the car, backing onto the street, and heading towards the home you once shared. will you regret this? probably. do you even care anymore? no.

so, when you raise your hand before the door, there's no hesitation, no anxiety seeping from your fingertips— just heavy grief that hasn't been processed yet. grief that you're begging to receive closure for; and you're one step closer to that gift when the handle turns, and you're face-to-face with the man who broke your heart.

his eyes look heavy. there isn't an ounce of surprise in them. it's almost as if he was expecting you...

...god, you're so predictable. you're so pathetic and desperate that he knew you'd cave and come. why can't you be strong like him? why can't you move on?

"i can't let you in." rin murmurs. his statement is firm and his body doesn't budge. "this isn't healthy, baby."

in spite of his words, he cups your face. the feeling of his palms is familiar. a touch that your dreams welcome when you can't find sleep, and yearn for the comfort you once shared. his blue gaze has love hidden behind those steely irises. you know it. there has to be some love left in there for you. you can't have just vanished from his heart. that's what you choose to believe— a perfect example of how you convince yourself to stay stranded in denial despite knowing otherwise.

"let's talk," you beg, "one last time."

"what's left to say?" his voice cracks and rin's strength wavers for a moment. "i can't do this. i'm not cut out for this. i don't have time for a relationship; i've already said all of this, please don't make me say it again."

you can tell he's on the verge of tears, lip quivering and eyebrows furrowed, rin pulls you closer. his hands magnetically find your body and he embraces you in a tight hug. it's selfish. he's leading you on once more and giving you false hope that maybe, this time, the conversation will end differently. he longs for the comfort you bring him, but won't provide that same favor when you ask for it.

it's too much to handle alone. you're tired.

this needs to stop.

"i've just been thinking so much lately." you begin, trying to find some courage. any courage. anything to help. "and i've realized that i put so much into this. i put my all into you. i gave you everything, and i'm not— i'm just not—"

"not what?"

a sigh escapes you.

"i'm not enough to convince you to stay."

rin's arms tighten. "you're perfect. you are. i'm the one who's not enough for you. believe me—"

"how can i?" you interrupt. "if i was perfect, you'd try harder. you'd want to keep me around so we can help each other be better. i hate who i'm becoming without you. i have no one to care for. i have all of these feelings and i don't know where to put them because they just want to feel for you. i'm running around in circles trying to process everything that happened because it was so abrupt, but i just can't do it— i want you. all i want is you. i don't know who i am anymore. rin please. you can still change your mind. i'm begging. i've begged so many times. let this work, just once. i love you."

his lips are on yours in a split second, deeply kissing you to end your mindless ramble, and his plan works. he shuts you up.

he ends the conversation, once again, with a kiss; never giving a real answer to your questions. never giving a solution to the dilemma. rin just restarts the cycle of manipulation that he doesn't even realize he's doing. you can't let each other go. your efforts will always fail. you'll be stuck in this loop forever. lonely, yet loving him.

[7seas-of-ryy]

I Need You | Part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 8

Author’s Note: I am LOVING all of your comments on each part. So many of them either brought a smile to my face or made me actually laugh out loud, so thank you!!

Summary: You can't hide your emotions anymore and some things aren't what they seem to be.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: angst, talks of torture, let me know if I need to add any others :)

Azriel and Rhys came running into your room.

"What happened?" Rhys shouted as you stood there crying

Both of the Illyrians looked over to where the shattered glass laid, realizing what had happened. The shadowsinger gave Rhys a look letting him know he would fix this.

Rhys had everyone leave the house and stayed close by in case Az needed help.

"Hey, sunshine, let me help you" he barely whispered while taking steps towards you.

"You!" you screamed at him "You left me. You didn't care enough to let me know you weren't coming. And you didn't care enough to save me. I needed you and you were gone."

You took a deep breath and continued

"When they showed up to take me, I looked around for you. Thinking you would show up and save me. Now that I think about it, maybe I'm the stupid one. For believing you would choose to spend time with me instead of her for once. How stupid could I be? When I was being tortured all I wanted was to let go, to die. And not because the pain was too much, but because I knew that coming back and seeing the pity on your face would be so much worse. Seeing you finally 'care' about me because you feel guilty would break me beyond fixing." you took steps toward him as you yelled

His back was now against the wall.

"And now I'm broken! Nothing can fix this. And Cassian, poor Cassian was forced to watch while they rid me of my clothes and beat me. Why couldn't you just love me back? I needed you" You were pounding on his chest with your fists and he let you.

You could barely see through the tears. It felt nice to get some of it out. You collapsed into his chest, still yelling and crying. His arms wrapped around you, holding you to him and you both sank down to the ground. You were now resting on his lap and he held you while he cried.

"I needed you, I needed you." you cried "I need you"

"I know, I'm right here. I promise I'm not going anywhere." He spoke with his lips on your head. His own tears falling faster.

You eventually fell asleep on his lap and he carried you to his room. He laid you down on his bed and was about to go clean up the mess when you grabbed his arm.

"Please don't go" you spoke

"You want me to stay?" he wanted to make sure he heard you right.

"Yes" you stated, you couldn't keep the act up anymore. You needed your best friend back for right now. He could explain himself later.

He pulled up a chair next to his bed as you got comfortable under his covers. It was silent for a few minutes, your head was pounding from all the crying you had been doing.

"I always hoped that my mom had got away somehow and was out there looking for me." you whispered, barely audible

"Every time I went somewhere on a mission, I sent my shadows out to look for her, just in case." Azriel confessed just as soft

A small smile grew on your face, and with a million thoughts swirling through your head, you went to sleep.

You woke up the next morning and saw Az sleeping on the chair next to you. As quietly as you could, you slipped out of bed and went to your room. Everything had already been cleaned up and the guilt from the night before started to creep in.

Feyre was sitting on the edge of your bed, holding the note from Elain.

"I promise Elain truly meant well with the flowers." your High Lady told you

"I don't know why I did what I did last night, I'm sorry-" you started but she stopped you before you could finish.

"No, I would have probably done the same thing. Her note was, well, pathetic. But you have to understand that she wanted to apologize to you but was embarrassed. So, she thought the flowers would have been good for now." Feyre explained

"I was tortured and she's embarrassed?" you couldn't understand.

"When you're ready, maybe try talking to Elain? You deserve a true apology but only when you are ready. And while you're at, try talking to Cassian too. You both went through a lot together and it might help you. He won't say it but he's struggling." Feyre spoke while standing and walking over to you.

She pulled you into a hug and you let her. You leaned into her and she hugged you tighter. You were ready to accept help from your family.

You got dressed after she left and were going to head down to the kitchen to see if anyone else was up.

As you left your room, you heard a few voices coming out of Azriel's. You couldn't help but pause and listen.

"And why have you been so quiet? You were there, you saw what she went through. You should be trying to help her. Instead you've been avoiding her" Az spoke

"Alright lets stop-" Rhys started to say

"Why have I been so quiet?" Cassian asked sarcastically "Hmm let me think? Maybe it's because I stood there completely helpless while I had to watch Y/N be stabbed over and over again, dragged by her hair, relentlessly beat?!" His voice rose with every word

"And did you know, on top of all that, as she was about to be tortured in front of me, she comforted me? She told me that it was ok, that she could take it, told me to not worry about her?! He had the knife raised in his hand about to stab her, and all she could think of was to comfort me? I do not deserve her kindness and friendship. None of us do."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." the shadowsinger told his friend

"It's fine. It's just so hard to look at her and not see the fear and pain in her eyes. I failed her and I don't know how to make that up to her." Cass responded

"Listen, she just needs us to be us right now. She needs love and support. All we can do is be there for her." Rhys told them

"I'm just happy she showed emotion last night. Having her scream at me is so much better than her pretending she's ok." Az said

So Cass wasn't disgusted with you, he just felt guilty?

You opened Azriel's bedroom door and walked straight to Cassian.

"Y/N" the male stuttered, not knowing what else to say

You wrapped your arms around him and after a moment he embraced you too. You stood like that for a couple of minutes before separating, still keeping your hands on his arms.

"If you weren't with me in that dungeon, I would've given up. I wouldn't have had the strength to keep fighting. You were there for me, and that was all I needed." you told Cass

Azriel flinched at that last sentence. He knew you didn't say it to hurt him but he will never forgive himself for what he did.

Cassian sniffled, "Well, I think I could use a drink after these past few days, shall we crack open the most expensive bottles Rhys owns?"

"Seeing as it is still morning, I think we should save the drinking until later." Rhys chuckled

The four of you laughed and it felt good. You missed this so much.

"I'll take you up on that offer, but how about after dinner?" you offered

"Sounds perfect" "I'm in" Rhys and Cass responded at the same time

The three of you looked at Az and the male smiled and nodded.

You were looking forward to hopefully having a simple night just sitting with your family and enjoying their company. But right now, you needed to find Elain.

You were exhausted pretending everything was ok, and you figured talking to her could help.

After checking the kitchen with no success, you headed to your second guess of where she was at. The garden. You spotted her immediately, bent over some beautiful flowers.

"Hello, Elain" You started

"Oh! Y/N, I wasn't expecting to talk to you so soon. Um- I need to tell you, I...well I really didn't know...." the girl choked out

She seemed so nervous and upset.

"Elain, I'm here to apologize" you spoke softly and took a seat next to her. Her eyes growing wide at your words.

"What?? No, you were kidnapped and tortured and all because I was jealous of you? No I need to apologize. I didn't know the extent of what happened to you until after I sent the flowers. I was told that you were hurt but it wasn't until last night that Rhys showed me what you went through.. I am deeply sorry" she told you

"You were jealous of me?" you questioned

"It's stupid.. after everything that occurred with Graysen, I was scared to feel that pain again. When I first got here, Azriel was so kind to me. I started to get that feeling again and was terrified of being hurt. Az was so close to you so I convinced him to stay with me. I was embarrassed that I let myself act like this over a male. I am appalled with myself." Elain admitted

"You couldn't have known those men were after me. Am I hurt that you tried to keep my closest friend from me? Yes, but you should not carry the burden and guilt of my trauma because of that... and the flowers did come off as a little insensitive" you elbowed her playfully as you spoke the last part, hoping she would see it as a sort of truce.

She looked up at you with embarrassment on her face.

"In my defense, Nesta helped me write the card, and you know she's not very good at emotional apologies" Elain said and you both giggled

After a moment, the air seemed to turn serious again.

"He couldn't have known either," she gently added, "have you talked to him yet?"

"Well, I screamed at him and blamed him for a lot of it last night but besides that, no I haven't talked to him. The problem isn't just that he stood me up that night, which led to all of this. He started drifting away from me long before that and it hurt like hell." you admitted to her

"Ask him why. Be straight forward with him and perhaps he will do the same with you." she advised you

You gave the middle Archeron sister a genuine smile and went back inside.

That wasn't as hard as you thought it would be. You felt lighter after all that clarification but there was still something big weighing you down.

You needed to find Azriel next and you had a feeling this conversation wouldn't be as easy as the last.

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[lcriedlastnight]

Y/n and Lando are arguing, y/n confesses her feelings in the heat of the moment, and Lando kisses her

thanks for your request anon! sending hugs and kisses.

tw: fem!reader, she's hella short, lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 733

you cannot remember what you were fighting about anymore. what you do remember is that it started because some girl had hit on lando and you had gotten jealous. of course you were far too prideful to admit that the thought of lando with anyone else except you made you feel sick to your stomach, so instead you just gave him the silent treatment. was it wrong of you? for sure. did you feel bad? were you going to give in, admit you were in the wrong and apologise? fuck no.

"i don't get why you won't just tell me whats wrong! you always fucking do this! all i wanna do is help and y'make it extremely difficult!" lando yells. well it's a half yell half just talking extremely loudly at you. you frown as his voice raises in volume.

"there's nothing to tell you. i'm fine." you protest, arms crossed over chest as you stand in the middle of your shared kitchen. your standing still while lando is pacing around the place like a madman. you understand why but it does not make you any less jealous.

lando runs his hands through his hair with a deep sigh as he tries his best to calm down.

"look, if you aren't telling me because you think i'll be mad or get upset or whatever, i promise you i won't. i just wanna make you feel better, honey." his voice is significantly softer than before and his face seems less uptight too. the sight makes you happier because you were worried that you had gone too far with this whole thing. all you wanted was for lando to know that entertaining that girl had hurt your feelings but you could not find the confidence to do it. the driver watches as you hesistate.

"c'mon, love. you can tell me anything. you know that." lando utters, hands coming to run up and down your arms.

"i'm fine." is your reply. lando loses it, stomping away from you.

"fucking hell!" he shouts your name, frustrated.

"don't shout at me. you're the one not listening. i said i'm fine." you reply, feeling yourself rise up to match his level of frustration. lando scoffs at your words, clearly not believing them at all.

"yeah, sure and if i didn't ask you what was wrong then i wouldn't care about you or your feelings but if i do then i'm - what even am i doing wrong right now? how can i possibly be in the wrong right now when all i want to do is care about you and your feelings?" lando says exasperated. his hands coming to run through his hair again, making it ten times as messy.

"i just said that you're not listening to me and you've just proved my point! all i want is for you to listen to what i say!" you shout back at him, arms waving in the air.

lando stares at you and for a minute, for the first time in twenty minutes, the apartment is quiet. it is only seconds later that lando is striding towards you and smashing his lips onto yours. your immediate gasp helps him deepen the passionate kiss as his hand grips the back of your neck. you react as soon as his tongue touches your own. your own hands coming to grip at his shoulders. the kiss is sloppy and kind of pathetic until you pull away, panting for air.

"why," you breathe out, trying to catch your breath. "why did you do that?" you ask the brit, eyes staring into his own.

lando gives you that smile before replying "you told me to listen to you more and i thought i heard you say kiss me." he shrugs. you so badly want to roll your eyes at him but affection takes over your body instead as his cheesy grin makes butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"and next time, i would appreciate if you just told me that you were jealous instead of me trying to force it our of you." lando whispers in your ear, the feeling of his breath so close to your skin sending a wave of goosebumps down your arm. you scoff as you burrow your head into the crook of his neck as he laughs, the fight already forgotten about. seems like all you needed was a kiss or two.

[kunikuyu]

Until he gets tired.

Heian Era! Ryomen Sukuna x Male! Reader

Warnings: 🕊️ DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. Dom! sukuna, sub! reader. reader is simply crazy. Size kink, cut play, mention of the term 'sex slave', dub-con, sex even when passed out, bulge in the belly, begging, abusive relationship, words written intentionally wrong, sukuna has two dicks, fainting, monster romance (for obvious reasons). DNI MINORS.

Summary: Being Sukuna's partner is something completely insane. Aside from the fact that Sukuna is incapable of loving anyone, he seems to take a twisted pleasure in hurting his partners. Every night, [Name] knows that the next day, he will wake up completely destroyed.

The climate was pleasant. Not too cold, not too hot, a gentle breeze blew through the walls and windows of Sukuna's temple. But what made everything scary and strange were the screams that came from inside.

Today was a special day. [Name] and Sukuna, the king of curses, had completed a hundred years together, as partners. Normally no one would celebrate this, since... Who would want to stand next to Sukuna? No one would be crazy enough to do that.

But, [Name] is.

"Uhm~ 'Kuna..."

The ancient sorcerer purrs. [Name] was sitting in the lap of the curse, skin completely exposed for anyone to see, but protected so no one can touch. And of course no one would touch, who would even dare to come close to the one who is so 'well taken care of' by Ryomen Sukuna. His chest was already completely red and full of small cuts, which were leaking almost invisible drops of blood. He didn't even know how he managed to stay awake anymore, it seemed simply impossible not to pass out there. Not because of the small and insignificant loss of blood, but rather for the pain in his lower parts.

[Name] couldn't move, couldn't even dare breathe wrong, if he didn't want to get slapped in the face. It seemed like an impossible task, and it really was, since Sukuna's dick wasn't just anything, or just an organ. It was big, ridiculously big, it seemed like a joke to imagine that it could fit on someone. So much so that only the cockhead managed to enter the sorcerer's body.

But Sukuna didn't care at all, of course not. He smiled when he saw his flushed face, expressing pain and clearly distorted pleasure. And instead of helping, he only makes the situation worse, squeezing hard around [Name]'s entire length so that he's unable to cum. This felt more like a punishment than a reward for staying by his side for so long.

"Such a dirty little whore... Are you that used to it? Don't you even scream in desperation for me to get out of you? I don't know if I find this interesting or pathetic." He says, with his typical arrogant and self-centered tone.

Deciding that he would take things more seriously, the King of Curses pulls [Name]'s hands close enough to him, so that the younger man is completely lying on top of Sukuna, being the perfect target for the all-out aggression the older man has in mind. He liked seeing his partner like this, but he much preferred seeing him screaming and crying because he couldn't handle his dick.

[Name] lets out a howl of pain as his severed chest is thrown hard against Sukuna's chest. It was like a thousand needles going into his skin because of the small cuts located in the area, but he still managed to find pleasure in the pain.

"Sukuna...! That hurts...!"

"I know."

Suddenly, agonizing screams of pain can be heard from far away. The screams were definitely from [Name], who was now being fucked mercilessly. He drooled against the other man's shoulder while still going through the trouble of jerking off his other cock. It was always so painful, the older man's balls aggressively slapped his ass, while his dick reached the deepest layer of his body, crushing his prostate with ease.

"Stop, please!~ Sho painf- ah!"

He doesn't even have time to complain before another of Sukuna's tricks is revealed. The two bodies completely glued together served so that the mouth on the monster-man's stomach could willingly take in [Name]'s red and swollen cock. He doesn't even know what to feel. It hurts, but he's about to cum!

And...

...To faint...

This lasts all night, and several times, [Name] even faints. It didn't end until Sukuna got tired, and he could never easily get tired of his beloved sex slave. When [Name] wakes up in the morning, a small pool of blood was formed on his bed, and next to the bed, a calm and silent Sukuna was cleaning his own body, which was dirty with fluids from both of them. When looking at his body, the sorcerer realizes that his chest was no longer the only thing that was bleeding, but his entire body. His belly was even full, certainly from Sukuna's loads of cum, which were clearly not few. He can barely stay awake for long before passing out again from exhaustion and blood loss.

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

Hello! I'm so happy I found your blog! I like your story, the way you write it! And it’s so easy for me to imagine my OC with your story, because our OCs are a little similar, only my character is something like a god/demon of death, a little more cold and his pets are snakes))

Sooooo... Sorry for taking a lot of time with my character 😅 the request for headcanons is haulian x reader and how will Xie Lian and Hua Cheng react if the reader feels like the third wheel in their trio and become a little bit distant because want to give them some space? (I have the idea in my head that the reader is basically like your OC, i like him soooooo much)

Sorry if it's not clear, English is not my native language. And if you don't like the idea, just ignore it))

Closing The Distance

Hua Cheng x M!Reader x Xie Liam

I'm so happy you like my writing and I love to hear about your OC so don't worry. I'm happy our OC's are so similar 🥰🖤

I like writing stories with my headcanons soooo bare with me, bear with me???

____________________________________

You've been distant. Well you've never reached out to people before this either, but you're more distant than usual.

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng noticed immediately.

How you start declining things, how you just sit to the side, you don't talk much, You let them sleep alone, eat dinner alone.

You stop being near them. The kisses you give dwindle down to nothing and the words "I love you" have been reserved.

They haven't a clue why. Xie Lian and Hua Cheng have tried to think of every reasonable possibility but don't know why

Why would you want to be alone when it's supposed to be the three of you together?

It gets to the point where they have to visit you instead of the other way around. Paradise Manor, and Puqi shrine is all of your homes but you don't show up to either one anymore.

You're hiding away at your own place and they just don't know what to do

It really breaks Xie Lian's heart because you've been by his side all these years why do you want to leave now?

Hua Cheng is equally devastated. He would do anything for you and Xie Lian but you're pulling away.

The two can only think that maybe you just don't love them anymore, maybe you're tired of them?

You would never do that though

Xie Lian doesn't like it and neither does Hua Cheng. They intend to get to the bottom of it because they love you.

They would try to give you space but when it seems to only make it worse they don't stop bothering you

That's what it seems like you need, to be bothered.

Xie Lian keeps asking, and caring for you

Hua Cheng gets insecure. He knows he's good that Xie Lian loves him but do you? You aren't disgusted by him are you? Contrary to popular belief ghost kings get insecure too

************************************

You are pathetic, at least you feel like you are. Hiding away like a bug under a rock. You don't know when it started and you couldn't control it when it got out of hand. It's nothing against Xie Lian and Hua Cheng, you love them dearly. But the problem you have feels like a problem you can't even bring up. You don't want to hurt them.

Would you hurt them more by bringing it up or staying hidden?

So you've been... Lying here. Bed rotting. If you can even call it that. You're actually just lying under a rock. Very literally. You're hanging out in a small cave. It's nothing you aren't used to you used to do it with Xie Lian all the time.

You could've gone to the heavens and hidden up there but you don't have friends. You have Feng Xin, and Mu Qing but you know they would snitch on you if it came to Xie Lian. So here you are under a rock. Overthinking.

You always overthink, it's why you left in the first place. You also felt selfish. It's hard to see Xie Lian and Hua Cheng together. You love them both, honest! But what do they even need you for? They look perfect without you, like they were made to just have each other. You felt like you were getting in the way, or like a third wheel.

You know they love you too but... It feels so difficult to be included. When Hua Cheng first showed up he immediately was able to take Xie Lian's side and help him with missions. Which was fine you guys needed the extra help anyways but then you learned their pasts. They're just so intertwined with each other

Hua Cheng built temples for Xie Lian, released 3,000 lanterns, built statues, fought in war, challenged 33 gods, cut out his eye, and died 3 times for him, and broke his shackles! What could you possibly add to the relationship. No one could care for Xie Lian better than Hua Cheng.

Xie Lian saved Hua Cheng when he was a child, and stayed with Wu Ming. Gave him a coral pearl, and red string. What have you done?

All the heavens talk about is Xie Lian and Hua Cheng. The ghost realm is the same. You were never a prominent figure so people forget you're even there. They don't even know you're their lover too.

So yes it's hard, and maybe it's selfish that you want to feel more included when they already spoil you when anything you could ask for. Which is why you're hiding in a small, dumb cave. You eventually fall asleep to the pitter, patter of rain.

When you wake up you aren't under a rock anymore. You're in bed. In red sheets, in a red room, red, red, red. You're at paradise manor. You wouldn't mind that if you weren't actively avoiding your lovers. You sit straight up in bed and before you can tumble out Xie Lian is at your bedside. He's frowning and has this worried look in his eyes that makes you feel guilty.

"Where have you been, y/n?" You look away and shrug. "In the cave you found me in" your lips wobble a little. You don't know what to say. What excuse could you use this time? You pick at a loose piece of thread on the blanket and notice that Hua Cheng isn't in the room with you two. ". . . Where's San Lang?"

"A-Lang" Xie Lian interrupts you and his hand finds yours "You've always called him A-Lang"

You want to crinkle under his piercing gaze. "Where's A-Lang?" You whisper glancing back at the blanket.

"Standing outside the room. Baobei why have you been avoiding us?" Xie Lian turns your gaze back to him.

"I-I just was dealing with my own issues" Your hands fist in the blankets and your eyes get watery just thinking about how selfish you've been.

Xie Lian's hand caresses your cheek, "Our issues. We can help you if you tell us."

You bite your lips and bring your hand up trying to wipe your tears before they get the chance to stream down your face. "It's selfish" you spit, venom covers your tongue. "It was a pathetic reason, really. I just was overthinking and I felt like. . . A third wheel. It's not a big deal though" You glare at the blanket. Your anger of course isn't directed at them but at yourself. Xie Lian knows this too.

"A third wheel, how come?" He runs his fingers through your hair. Him and Hua Cheng have tried everything to include you so how could one feel left out?

"It's my own fault, I just don't feel like I have anything to add. I've nothing to offer. I've done nothing compared to you two" You're completely useless like always.

Xie Lian's questioning is interrupted when the door slams open. You both jump when Hua Cheng storms in and grabs a hold of your face. He would never hurt you, you all know this. "Nothing to offer? Just who are you talking about right now?" He frowns at you with furrowed brows. "I don't think we're seeing the same person." He doesn't let you divert your gaze keeping you there.

Hua Cheng knows what you're feeling, your insecurities stemming all from feeling useless. He knows how it is. "You have everything to offer and even if you didn't we would love you anyways. You don't have to add anything y/n, you can just be" he frowns and sits on the bed.

"I think you're going blind in your other eye. I really don't have anything" you blink away tears. "This one offers so much and he doesn't even know, he's done so much for the two of us and doesn't remember. Right gege?" Hua Cheng looks at his other husband for approval and Xie Lian nods.

"This one is a heavenly official. You have to work hard to become a god in the upper court" Xie Lian adds. You scoff though. "That's not what I'm talking about, I-I haven't done anything for the two of you"

Hua Cheng wants to shake you in a jar. "You have though!" Now he's yelling and Hua Cheng doesn't yell only when it comes to the two of you. "Who's rayed by Xie Lian all these years protecting him when I was lost? You did! Who took care of Hong er when Gege's other servants wouldn't dare touch him? You did. Who gave a mongrel child their family heirloom because he had sympathy and was kind? You did!" Hua Cheng holds your face in his hands still.

"You work so hard, and have gone through so much just like the rest of us and yet you still worry about others still!"

"every night this one takes care of us and helps Gege make dinner. Every day this one protects us, every day this one thinks of us and gives his best for us!"

Hua Cheng gives endless reasons small to large. You're crying in his hands and Hua Cheng wipes them away for you.

"No one is allowed to insult my lovers, even if they're doing it themselves" Hua Cheng finishes and kisses your forehead. Xie Lian is smiling and he kisses your forehead too.

"Don't run from us anymore, you can tell us what you're thinking anytime. Me and San Lang have no problem giving you the reassurance you need" he hums and joins you two in bed. All three of you cuddle for the rest of the night and the two practically suffocate you, not allowing you to leave bed. But you love them and would gladly lie here tangled in their limbs.

____________________________________

I hope y'all like it! Also ignore my grammar mistakes guys I always have some. 🖤

[ffverr]

Ok so let me add my two cents to this and say how it isn't a good reference to Ororo and Scott's duel or history.

To do that I'll also compare McKay's reference in Avengers (2024) #18, which is just the proliferation of a fanon cliché at best, with Hickman's reference in House of X and Powers of X, which actually understands the context of the source material.

Storm and Scott's duel in issue #201 of Uncanny X-Men happens in a very specific context that both modern writers and fanon either forgot, don't know or misinterpreted it over time.

I-The necessary context:

Jean grey dies

Scott is deeply hurt by that

Over something like a dozen issues he decided to actually leave the X-Men as he doesn't feel up for it anymore.

The leadership of the team is naturally passed down to Storm that has always acted as a second in command to Scott. He often asked her opinion on plans and she often found last resort solutions when he was backed up against a corner.

On his "hiatus", Scott meets Madelyne Pryor. They fall in love, get married and Maddy is pregnant with a child as we learn when they reappear on the team in the mini: Alpha flight Vs X-Men.

Storm acts as leader of the team but goes through many changes, like losing her powers, which rattles her to her core and gives her some insecurities about her place in the X-Men as a leader.

An Asgard adventure tells the story of Storm and the new mutants getting kidnapped by Loki.

This emergency makes the rest of the X-Men call Scott back to the team's leadership for a rescue mission.

Madelyne is brought to Westchester to wait for the return of her husband.

After the X-Men's comeback from Asgard, The trial of Magneto is happening in Paris, where they are attacked by evil Mutants. They're immediately teleported to that emergency.

Charles Xavier almost dies, but is at the last minute rescued by the Star Jammers and his love interest Lilandra in order to get emergency care.

Charles is stranded in space, and no X-Men knows if he's even alive

This hurts Cyclops enormously.

During this long absence on the X-Men (asgard+trial of magneto), Madelyne gives birth to their child, Nathan, alone at xavier's mansion as Scott is gone fulfilling his momentary duty.

After their return, Madelyne feels like this huge absence from Scott and his half frequent comebacks to the team is making her lose him bit by bit.

So, with Charle's status as presumed dead, Scott, very paranoid and depressed, does the only thing he sees fit at the moment. Come back as leader because the team needs him without Charles around. This is Scott's pathetic attempt at regression to familiarity as Charles being dead and him becoming a father is a COMPLETELY new and very scary situation he's not sure to handle.

Becoming a leader again is a delusional idea considering he has pledged his presence and loyalty to his wife and newborn, in ALASKA, and Storm is already leader of the team.

Madelyne, pushed by the insecurity of her husband's lack of presence in their family, begs Storm to challenge him in a duel in order to banish the thought of leadership from Scott's head.

II- THE MISCONCEPTION ABOUT THE DUEL:

Storm didn't initiate it! She did not challenge Scott because she thinks she's a better leader than him or because she wanted to prove herself or even gain the leadership of the team for the first time (as some seem to think?).

She was ALREADY leader and completely agreed with Madelyne that Scott had to stick to his new family and responsibility as a father and husband. Ororo knows Scott extremely well, especially from an emotional stand point. Most of the time she sees right through him and she understands that this decision to come back to the X-Men as leader is coming from a place of deep confusion and loss. It's a coming mechanism for him, and she's not about to let him indulge in it when he's got new and more important responsibilities.

Thus, she complies with Madelyne's request and beats Scott in a duel for leadership.

#201 Uncanny X-Men

He snaps out of his delusional state (in which he couldn't even bring himself to communicate with Madelyne or be happy about the birth of his kid by the way).

He feels completely lost and dejected and comes back to his family. His relationship with Madelyne becomes distant and strained.(This plot continues in X-Factor).

Storm keeps on being leader of the X-Men and goes through her own hardships and journey for self determination.

So, no. Mackay's vision as this moment in time being "Storm can't go back to being under Scott's leadership because she's better than him or too cool to be a part of an X-Men team she doesn't lead" is utter bullshit.

III-Text, meta and fanon:

This fanon vision of the duel and later history between the characters just further carves the drift between storm and her friends that is already prevalent because of how many writers like to dehumanise Ororo as a character and limit her personal emotional relationships to the X-Men to a maximum.

Her and Scott have a deep friendship built out of mutual respect and their shared grief over Jean's passing.

God loves, man kills

She doesn't believe that her and Scott "can't go back to getting orders from one another" that's just a misconception....

The truth is, neither one or the other would mind taking orders from each other considering they work insanely well as co-leaders. (As they did during their time on the team as leader and second in command from #94 to Scott leaving the team)

The Meta problem :

The issue, of course, is meta-textual, and shouldn't be baked into the text.

Storm hasn't "outgrown" being on an X-Men team or being submitted to hierarchy. This is just mixing up meta textual and text.

Yes, as a character, Storm deserves to be pushed forward as a leader. It's a spot that suits her and puts her in a very interesting head space. It would be unfortunate for FANS and for the journey of the character to keep her subordinated to other leaders.

HOWEVER this isn't a feeling she has in comics. That just makes her relationship with Scott oddly bitter when in actuality, there is none of that...

Not to say they both don't enjoy a little fun teasing competition as "who's the best leader?" But it isn't that deep. It's not something they actually genuinely querelle about.

McKay's reference just feeds into the misconceptions about them and it sucks because they love working together! And this vision of their relationship just puts a useless drift between them that would, in the long run, take away their interactions from us.

To me, it's a cheap textual justification of why she wouldn't join Scott's Alaskan team when in reality she's just not interested in whatever fight he's fighting and thinks that at this moment she's meant for bigger things (protecting the entirety of planet earth, in natural continuation to her responsibilities on Arakko). It would have been completely fine to just say that instead of sticking it on them having a power struggle.

IV-Hickman:

Hickman's reference though is quite good! Not perfect, but it holds an overall good understanding of that spot in their relationship. (And their friendship in general)

In hoxpox Scott says "Once, I thought I was strong -- a leader of mutants. And then you showed me what strong was."

This line stays up for interpretation. But for me, it's Scott recognising that at that time, because of Jean's death and Charle's presumption of death, he wasn't in the right headspace to be a great X-Men leader. He was still dealing with a lot of codependency of Charles and jean and didn't just yet actually stand on his two feet in a way that wasn't fragile, strained and harmful for HIMSELF.

Meanwhile, Storm had lost her powers! She was going through a very very hard identity crisis. Dealing with imposter syndrome and overall depression. But that didn't completely hinder her leadership like it did Scott. She rained in her problems and handled the team the best she could.

Scott running away from his responsibilities as a father because of how complicated his bond to the team's leadership and members is, wasn't real strength. But Storm dealing with these life changing moments and still holding her ground was strength.

And that duel taught him this lesson. And that's why Hickman's reference is great. Not because Storm is an objectively better leader than Scott or whatnot, but because the two of them learned lessons about personal strength and perseverance from each other.

Storm responding with "I learned it watching you" is the cherry on the cake because she did. To a certain extent, on a tactical aspect, Scott taught her a lot about leading missions and that's undeniable.

Anyways, ted talk done.

Stan Ororo and Scott! The greatest leaders of the X-Men! Don't pit them against each other and leave their friendship feeling odd and distant for no real reasons. They'll never grow over cooperating.