Maedayarchive - Charmae

Betsey Johnson Spring 1997

A soft life requires HARD WORK!!!!

You should pamper and take care of yourselves. HOWEVER, You need more than a pretty face these days y'all to get ahead in life. You see women who are in business, law, and Healthcare. They had to bust their behinds to get where they are now. Endless nights staying up to studying, not worried about men 24/7, dreaming about what will be on the other side to motivate themselves. Some of y'all want to be babied. Yes, not every woman thinks the same and wants to be a rich housewife. How do you think women become rich housewives? Networking, Education, volunteering, Hobbies, etc.

Some of these girlies on tumblr are selling a fantasy and I'll let them have it but this is not a Wattpad fanfiction. WAKE UP and get up and do something!!!

mariacarla boscono @ roberto cavalli s/s 2003

alyson dubey for id japan, photos by josh wilks

TENNIS SUCKS AND SO DO YOU [Tashi Duncan, Patrick Zweig, Art Donaldson]

Summary : You were better off without them, you said for a decade despite seeing them every fucking where, all the fucking time. You were better than them, you said as you did the same shit they did and enjoyed it all the same.

Pairing : Art Donaldson x Patrick Zweig x Tashi Duncan x Reader, Tashi Duncan x Patrick Zweig, Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan, Patrick Zweig x Art Donaldson

Warning : +18, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !, angst, canon injury, canon conniving, cheating, manipulation, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, tennis mentioned, rude language, cussing, foursome kinda, slight ball worship, pussy worship, vaginal sex (p in v), sadness, rehab mentioned, homelessness, gaslighting, genuinely everyone sucks here, no one is mentally stable and should be trusted.

A/N : enjoy

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As it had turned out, it had been way easier for you to admit the sick pleasure you got out of witnessing the downfall of the people you had loved for so long. Being easy to admit did not male it any less painful if you were being honest. Loving them the way you did, the way only you could since your college days made the situation just as sad as it had been cathartic.

You witnessed from the sidelines how Patrick, Tashi and Art’s old ways returned even after eleven years to tear them apart the way it had initially years prior. You still remembered how you used to be, it wasn’t hard they hadn’t changed a bit. Not even the way they looked at each other.

Outsiders would speculate on the nature of the relationship which had sparked fire in the media, two old best friends meeting again at a random challenger while one’s ‘wife’ cheered louder than she had ever been seen cheering. Some would assume the worst out of Tashi while some would pity her for being the stand in to Art’s internalized homophobia. Maybe other’s would hit the nail right on the head and guess that the three might share deep feelings for each other but the would never go further in the guesses, ironically respectful of the privacy of the three people the would spend weeks speculating on, expecting some form of answer at some point.

In the midst if all of this, you would remain. Alone but never lonely, alone and changed for the better while they simmered in their own toxicity, pulling at each other’s strings to bring the worst out of each other in hopes to come out on top, come out the best at the game of honesty they played in a pathetic attempt at convincing the others that they were the ones to say the truth the two others refused to admit to, while simultaneously keeping a lifetime’s worth of secrets.

You would remain, forever in love with them, enough to leave without a goodbye or a look back while they grew like trees in soiled dirt, intertwined but resentful of one another.

You hadn’t been able to watch the end of the match, content with watching Patrick and Art hug for the first time in about a decade. It was funny to you, really. How they had managed to part for so long when Patrick had loved Art first, loved him the way you had loved Tashi first. You all ended up falling in love, you with Art next. Patrick was a little more difficult to like. He was a cunt. And truth be told, so were you. But in their psyche, you lived as kindness personified, because at the root, you were what they aspired to reach when claiming a false sense of honesty.

You were the good ripped out of them by a forceful departure they could not have done a thing about.

You were kind and overly intelligent, academically and emotionally, doubled with a talent that made you all the more terrifying. To understand you was a struggle because all you said could be taken as exactly what it was. In the world of pompous etiquette and manners, you lived above and below it all. Born in a lower class family, you never feared to admit that your goal had always been to climb you way up until you reached what you wanted to reach. It was unclear to you and to them for a while so coaxing it out of you was useless, you didn’t know much about what you wanted, or at least, verbalizing it would be difficult. You aimed to climb, all on your own, through your own power and possibilities. Fucking Tashi Duncan was just for fun.

She wasn’t meant to be a tool in your machine, and frankly, she would’ve been a useless one too, you weren’t a tennis player. Maybe that was what had made your deep friendship so difficult to understand. People speculated that you used her for her money and status, which would make sense if your natural predator wasn’t a tennis racket and a ball. You just couldn’t play tennis for shit. And at first she would call you an idiot for trying when you clearly sucked. A friendship had blossomed when you had responded by successfully hitting a ball right past her head. You sucked at tennis but you had great aim it seemed.

You had reached Stanford on a scholarship, and artistic scholarship funded by a bunch of wealthy families, counting the Zweig and Donaldson families. You danced ballet initially but the possibilities had evolved so you did more than ballet or than dancing. It didn’t really matter honestly why you were at Stanford, the point is that you were there with them and sometimes only for them.

Again, it had started with Tashi, simple stuff really, hugs here and there turning into hugs everywhere. And hand holding which had also turned into waist holding. And the sleepovers were you started from standing at opposite sides of the room to sitting on each other and sleeping with each other in the same bed. Everything just kept escalating. Came a time were it was normal for you both to be showering together or to kiss each other’s cheeks in public. You were best friends with a little bit more on the side.

The speculation were inevitable really, but then came Patrick and Art. Things had been complicated to explain or understand but it did make sense to you four at least.

The night she had been invited to their hotel room, they hadn’t expected her to bring a friend. You didn’t really understand what she had wanted to prove, if she had wanted to prove anything at all but you knew that you didn’t really mind. A public would never bother you.

You had always been pretty obedient to her words, even more when she had her fingers inside you. When she had called you to sit on her lap while they sat on the floor, you had obeyed, climbing on top of her and zipping down your compressor shirt. You could feel their eyes on you, burning through your skin in hopes to see your breast the way Tashi could. When you two had started to make out, you wanted to laugh, hearing Art’s little gasp loud and clear. He was way easier to get worked up than Patrick. But Patrick was a slut so it made sense.

You had stopped her, pulling away with your tongue lolling out of your mouth as you attempted to regain your composure before pointing at them.

“Shouldn’t they be participating ?” You had said, amusing Tashi who patted the space next to her for you to sit. Again, you obeyed but kept a hand between her thighs while she kissed your forehead. Art and Patrick had stared at each other before Patrick rushed to sit next to you and Art next to her.

The rest was history. A long, tedious and sometimes painful history which at started really, the moment Art asked you out. You expected him to go to Tashi, and he had before asking the two of you. It was easy to love Art, the same as you loved your girl. Patrick though, it had been lust for a long time, a very long time before you accepted that he loved you and that you loved him too. You two couldn’t stop taking shots at one another you at his pathetic love for Art and him at you for being poor. Those were easy and no amount of venom in your voices could ever male you say words you didn’t mean. He was bitter at you for having Art and you at him for having Tashi, you were the same really but you would always say you had bigger balls that him because at least you unequivocally had both in all senses while he struggled to even have one.

You remembered how in a drunken admission he confessed hating you for being the romantic failure to his success, something he couldn’t bear knowing that he wanted to fuck you with all the love and adoration you ignited in his soul. He was glad to have his wish granted, waking up the next morning with you on top of him, sleeping soundly, more silent than you had ever been in your life with him around.

Then began the greatest love story never told, fueled by unyielding passion and love that transcended. Maybe the end could’ve been predicted. You loved too much with too much honesty for three people who convinced themselves that tennis was their only true love. You were okay with that, you knew it was a cover-up, a protection from the unpredictability of human feelings and relationships. You didn’t feel like covering up anything, not when you simply loved.

To you it made sense, to them it was a little more difficult, and the difficulty kept increasing slowly as everything rapidly turned to shit. One day it was all four of you, the next, Art didn’t love you anymore, not enough to share Tashi but enough to still crave your very existence like air. He was done sharing with Patrick too, something about having to admit to himself that he did love the man more than a best friend didn’t work in his mind.

They had all began getting into each other’s minds planting seeds of jealousy and doubt in a vicious cycle where they all made each other worst than worst itself. Then Tashi got hurt, and Patrick wasn’t there but Art was so she blamed the brunette while the blond rejoiced as he finally reached the sense of normalcy he had craved through monogamy. And where were you in all of this ? Left behind. You didn’t play tennis but you loved them so you thought it would be enough, it wasn’t. You couldn’t understand, they said. Tashi would never play like she used to or as she was destined to ever. And since Art was there, he would be the talent that prevailed and lived. Patrick, he couldn’t care less about you when he was loosing the two people who really mattered to him.

You had been disposed of in a matter of weeks, a useless, bothersome artefact found in the dirt and throw back in the dirt when you had stopped being fun. You would’ve never understood what it felt like to lose the very thing that one thought of when thinking of Love, yet you could’ve tried, you would’ve tried for them, for her.

Patrick was the first who should’ve gone, almost forcefully thrown out of the apartment you had all started sharing, ironically owned by his family. He lost the home of his heart and chose to give away his house too. But Patrick being Patrick, he refused to leave, stubborn and smug, he opted to stay and keep trying. He knew tennis and Tashi’s love for tennis. He had felt that love for a certain blond boy he had lost too.

With his stay, he formed a side, his own, while Tashi and Art formed another. They fought, regularly, everyday almost, about the same things and a multitude of little other things that they had never voiced prior to the incident. Because they were too ‘kind’ to speak up, but mean enough to use it as ammunition in petty arguments.

They fought about almost anything frankly and you, you disappeared, left off in the background, dissipating like sand, washed away by the sea and forgotten. You didn’t need to get involved they said. Yet you did, because you loved all three and maybe it was selfish but you still held onto the hope that they loved you too, enough to support you in your own moments.

But that was before the Patrick you had learned to love forced you with the brutal reality of things.

You fell. During a rehearsal, you fell, badly enough to hurt you foot and possibly for a little while. It wasn’t broken nor was it permanently damaged, you would heal quickly, you just had to be taken to the hospital to be given the necessary information on how to recover. You would also need to be taken home, you physically couldn’t walk. You called and called and called, calling about a hundred times with no answer from any of them. You ended up staying at the hospital for two days before deciding that you didn’t want to stay more so you left, on foot, which you shouldn’t have done. You had crutches, you thought, so this would be fine. It was at the end, your foot was fine, your soul though, not so much.

After two days in the hospital, you had returned home to another fight between the three. You were tired so you stayed silent until they took notice of you, standing there in silence. Weirdly enough, that seemed to aggravate them further, leading to sighs of anger and looks of disgust, as if you were the cause of all of this, all their issues and frankly all the issues in the world. Unused the first and last fight you were apart of.

It was about you not being there, you always running when things got hard for Tashi, running away because you couldn’t be the center of attention anymore when Tashi would be the priority. You didn’t really process much if what was thrown your way, too busy trying to defend yourself in vain. It didn’t matter really, whatever you said, it wouldn’t matter not when for the first time in weeks both Fire and Ice agreed on something while Tashi looked at you with the kind of hatred you’d never seen in her eyes before. All three finally agreed on something and it seemed it was on how much they couldn’t stand you.

“It’s fucking pathetic how low you’d go to feel like you matter to us. Let me make this abundantly clear, your presence here is only because of Tashi. The interest we have in you is only because of Tashi. Any amount of interest we have in you is because of Tashi. You don’t even matter to yourself outside of her.” How said Patrick bitterly. He looked disgusted by the very sight of you and his words translated about just as much venom as his gaze.

He walked up to you, still standing at the same spot you had been in since you had entered the room to walk in on them fighting once again. You hadn’t moved and now you were paralyzed by humiliation, as if even breathing would be a stain on their glory. You were going through it again in a matter of seconds. Years of improvement on your self worth all going down the drain because of three people.

You watched him with teary eyes as he stepped up to you, entering your personal space so that you could see properly how much he meant his next words.

“We barely tolerate you without tennis, but how much do you think we’d like you if Tashi hadn’t pulled you in like a necessary condition for her presence around ?”

You said still, to ashamed to cry or to breath, almost heaving from the ball of air stuck in your throat. You said as stoic as you could all while keeping your tears at bay. He chuckled while staring at you, false amusement to hide how annoyed he was with your presence here. You tried to look towards Art, who looked away, face indifferent as he silently agreed to his ex best friend’s words while your own best friend stared blankly at you then at your foot before getting up and leaving.

You weren’t one to stay where you weren’t wanted, so when they left to chase after Tashi, you took that as an opportunity to pack your stuff and leave. All that was left behind were the stuff you wouldn’t outwardly need or could ask a friend, if you had any left, to help you get.

In that moment you felt your luckiest despite the circumstances, your lack of relationship to tennis making it easy to rely on someone who wouldn’t be asking thousands of questions on why you were now excluded from the little group who’d been ruling the minds and hearts of about every student on campus. For the rest of the semester, you moved in with a friend from your dance studio, friend who quickly became your greatest form of support, pushing you to get back up and become the best dancer you’d ever been.

For the first time, you felt what Tashi meant when she said tennis would be her greatest love, you understood her drive to not just be a player among the lot but the player who stood above the masses effortlessly yet with lots of efforts. The rumors quickly spread, your separation from the group raising questions that you were too busy to answer, spending about every second of every hour dancing and improving your artistic skill while slowly letting the three people you had loved turn into distant figures in your rearview mirror.

The longing glances in the lecture halls and silent please turned into quick looks in their direction, acknowledging their presences before going back to what you were doing, before soon, watching it turn into nothing. You stopped looking, feeling their eyes on your before shutting down the instinct which you had lead to you them in crowds of thousands so many times before. Before you knew it, you brushed passed them, your scent burning through their being like the softest of caress and the sharpest of slaps while you simply didn’t notice them. You had stopped trying to ignore them and made them presence part lf everyone, barely noticeable.

Your dancing got better, just like your heart and your other talent. You divested into other areas of artistic expression, soon stepping out of Stanford to be known all over the world for your incredible voice and the amazing performances that went with it. You filled concert halls like one would fill their lungs with air and sold albums like no other. Your passion and devotion for your craft quickly became known all over the world, impossible to miss as your face appeared on Billboards and your voice resonated through radios. You got busy with like and you weren’t the only one.

You knew about Tashi and Art’s wedding, catching wind of it from friends you had made in college. It didn’t surprise you much, she could handle Art better. What had surprised you was for Fire to Part from Ice and vice versa, both disappearing from each other’s life. It wasn’t news that neither really deeply like to share, ironic considering the circumstances. You had found out about their daughter too, Lily, cute name. Art had probably picked it. Tashi would’ve named her ‘Tennis Donaldson’ if she could. Tennis Duncan even. She loved tennis too much, it had started to exasperate you, but inly slightly. You understood. You lived dancing just the same. Just healthily. You could see through the mist, watching her live vicariously through her darling husband he played for her. He lost the passion he had for the sport, but he had lost more.

You didn’t know what had happened to Patrick, or at least you feigned ignorance. You didn’t give a fuck about that little bitch. But watching him die wouldn’t be fun. You knew about the heroin addiction and about the alcoholism. It was known before during college and it had stopped briefly while you dated, keeping only the smoking. He had drifted from them, too busy getting fucked up on whatever he could get his sticky fingers on while fucking whoever he could get to give him shelter for the night. Being a crackhead was expensive and even Patrick Zweig couldn’t afford it, it seemed. You knew he lived in his car and tried to revive his dead tennis career every chance he got. He was embarrassing to be frank, but you couldn’t turn your back on him when you knew he could pick up a handgun any day and write your name in big bold letters out of spite for the amount of time he called and you refused to answer before choosing to block his number. The junky ex boyfriend trope was getting tired and the sex was good back in the days but never enough to entertain his mess of a life. And to be frank, you had grown to be just as spiteful and petty as they were, the wound of the past still fresh in your heart despite the decade of separation.

Over the last years, you had crossed his path about five times and each time you found him in a outer body state, off on whatever he had gotten his hands on but definitely not water. Each time you crossed him, you remembered the words he had said to you, ears prior, noting the irony of how he had turned out now that he was alone. It was sad, honestly, Art had been a beacon to him, Tashi too. But both found mutual benefits in each other, Tashi getting to live through her husband while Art got to live through the fantasy that he didn’t regularly got of on his best friends cock rubbing against his.

You, you were just collateral, too easy to love yet too mysterious to understand. You were like the easiest puzzle never solved to them, an equation on love and lust all packed in one basic formula that was so easy that it felt like a trap. People relying on toxicity to feel alive sabotaged shit like that, the easy shit that wasn’t meant to be overly painful. You’d been too easy, so you could be disposed of ln on the basis of an argument where you just didn’t fit anymore when the truth is that you fit in way to easily with each without having to give anything tangible. You weren’t bringing shit to their worlds but yourself yet you were indispensable.

And being indispensable, surprisingly, wasn’t sufficient to them.

~

The first time Patrick saw you again after the separation was in the street. Which street he can’t say, he’s not even certain he saw you for real seeing as that night he was high on whatever had been sitting in his car and a 4 dollar bottle of vodka from the corner store. His car slash home wasn’t too far, less than ten steps away, yet he couldn’t reach it. First he couldn’t fucking find his keys and on top of that, he had felt in a cheery mood, deciding to down half the bottle right outside the store. He was in a mood to celebrate, the news of Tashi and Art’s divorce plaguing his mind like the sweetest of highs.

In his sick mind, the man still lived the fantasy that he and Art were the same or that they could be, true rivals from the same place, both drastically changed by their circumstances but still and forever Fire and Ice. He wanted to believe that well in his thirties he still had a shot. He could still do this, get to reach the same level of stardom and face off his best friend and lover once again. He was insane, and slightly pathetic like that but the news made the possibility even greater in his mind.

Tashi and Art had been a unit of destruction he could’ve never truly beat, not on his own, yet he still dreamt and rightfully so. Because now, both members of the unit were parting ways and what better way to conquer than to divide ? She had done it, years prior, Art fully participating despite his seemingly innocent demeanor.

In the midst of his celebration, he had, once again, forgotten to exercise restraint and had drunken enough to stumble into an alley all alone, falling face first in a puddle of water. In his inebriated state, even felt the weight of his exhaustion, weirdly falling down all at once on his shoulders.

He was so out of it, he hadn’t noticed your figure almost floating towards his body before seeing you crouched down next to him. You started at him just like he did you, both quiet for a second before he cut the silence with a chuckle, you, on the other hand were less than amused, stoic and silent face dark as you watched him, probably gloating to see him in such a state.

“Are you real ?” Was all he had said, waiting for a response which had never came.

It was almost vicious how he could barely make out the walls around him yet could perfectly distinguish the features of your face. It hadn’t changed, fuck you were so pretty.

The rest was a blur of soft touches and movements he could understand. All he knew was that you had spoken to him, telling him to not drink and to cut the heroin. He had nodded, obedient and shameful as a result of his words from the past.

When he had woken up the next day, he was surprised to be in a bed, comfy and warm covers. Parts of him dreamt it was her house. It wasn’t. It wouldn’t never be, not if she had a say on it at least.

You had driven him to rehab, leaving without a word or a note for him to understand. He didn’t know much other than the fact that you had paid for him to stay there for six months and then maybe he could leave. You had even paid more to make sure that the establishment accepted him despite her not being a relative or anything like that. Top quality facility that would have him bust his ass off trying to get clean, and not just off the drugs but also the alcohol.

He didn’t know anything, he just felt like it was you who had been the generous donator to pay for him to get clean. The lady at the front desks and the doctor in charge of him were only told one thing that had a seemingly smug but actually hopeful grin stretching his lips.

“I don’t want anything really, it’s more for him. Maybe, if he gets better in his head, he’ll actually get to be good at tennis again.”

It was mean, you were mean, mostly to him. But he knew better. You both had a habit of disagreeing so whenever he’d shit on himself, you’d join him and suddenly he was bathed in the confidence of the universe. Ironically, it never worked the other way around.

He stayed, all six months though, per the doctors and therapist, he wouldn’t need to. He could’ve left after the forth month. They had a tennis court to help him work a bit so he chose to stay. Even made friends. But he stayed, the whole time. Out of respect for you in some ways but also because he wanted to see how well he’d do. If he could really stick it out for the whole six months and then more. He did, and he would’ve loved to tell you, but that didn’t happen.

~

The next you saw was Art. If “seeing” was an appropriate term to use in this situation. After retiring, the man couldn’t find it in himself to ever really leave the tennis world, even after he and Tashi had divorced. He was still fully ingrained in the tennis world like the champion who would’ve lost it all, should’ve lost it all. His career been over if he had lost to Patrick that day. It would’ve destroyed him, you knew that. You didn’t need to be there to know, you always could read him. You could read all three down to the nastiest of details they were dirty rotten books passing fungus and parasites to everything they touched.

Art was the prettiest of parasites, seemingly clean and well behaved, but he fucked like a man starved for pussy, real pussy, raw and without conditions or expectations. You knew he hadn’t changed a bit when you saw him at an even for Uniqlo. Your career also had you around these circles and you like these events the best, with big brands but really niche, making it easy to not be overwhelmed as soon as you stepped in the room.

You’d been the center of attention the moment you entered and he was quick to catch you, you both engaging in a stare off that had lasted for about three seconds to you maybe, a lifetime to him. You couldn’t be here, not really, how could you ? He had dreamt of you, screamed your name and moaned it while balls deep in his wife. Ex wife. She’d moan your name too, it was pathetic, both were. He had pleaded the universe for you and yet nothing, but here you were, the one night he wasn’t thinking of you somehow. There you were, ever so beautiful and breathtaking. Like a ghost grappling at his brain.

It was pathetic, to not see you for a decade and yet to have his heart beat out of his chest as soon as he saw you and his cock springing to life like never before when you turned around, allowing him to gawk at the curve of your spine, from your nape to your ass. He was screwed.

For the rest of the night you both engaged in a cat and mouse game, him the cat and you the mouse, but here, you weren’t running from him. You were disappearing into the crowd as soon as he was freed from whatever pointless discussion was taking his time from you.

Then came the end of the night and Art was frantic, aimlessly searching for you, terrified like never before to miss you and this time lose you forever. He could reach you, he could go to one of your concerts and press tour for one of your movies. He could do that, but Art had always been somewhat of a pussy. Enjoying his position off in the shadow while the rest of the world took actions and spoke on their feelings.

That day, he took action, forgetting any sense of pride and decorum when he grabbed you by the jaw and pushed you into the elevator, hands reaching under your dress to hike your legs up around his waist. The elevator had barely opened, luckily leading directly into the suite he had been offered that he and his eager hands dragged your docile body to the nearest flat surface. When he had reached the dinner table, he had laid you up on it, so delicately, as if you were a figment of his imagination, potentially disturbed by any rough movement.

He was almost panicking, fiddling with your dress, torn between savoring the moment and your presence or making you feel the weight of your absence. He chose the later, ripping through the fabric of the expensive dress while you whined at the loss of such a beautiful piece to add to your collection.

You liked clothes, you always did and your mewls of pleasure mixed with the sound of your discontentment at the loss of your new favorite dress had him tensing in his pants, balls tight and full of love and memories from how happy and grateful you used to be when he gave you a present.

His lips dragged along the tense vein in your neck, occasionally biting down on your flesh to mark you in the most visible way possible. If you were to disappear again, you’d be marked, sworn as off limits to anyone else. You’d be his to worship.

You had matched his eagerness, sliding slander manicured fingers into his pants and boxers to stoke his cock, mouth watering at the idea lf having him in you again, girth taking up all the space in her throat and rutting into her hole desperately for even more.

You did, have him fuck your throat. Your saliva coating his balls shamelessly while you choked, almost suffocating on him but whining like the desperate girl you were whenever he even thought of pulling out. He had let you have your fun on him, nasty words to match the nasty rhythm of his hips slamming into your mouth. Plop. Plop. Plop, resonating into the room while he drilled his long cock into you with vigor. He had cum once, in your throat, only one, holding your face still as he pushed the tip of your nose into his nicely trimmed pubic hair. You inhaled his scent, eyes crossing in pleasure while you came untouched. What a good girl you’d always been, cumming at the idea of having him lay his semen in your throat.

He pulled out, holding your jaw still while admiring your fucked out face before kissing your cheeks tenderly like he always did to bring you back. You were easy to overwhelm so making you dumb on pleasure came easy too. But Art was a hard working man and he would never stop at that.

“Already so dumb for me…” He had muttered into your skin, lips dragging across your cheeks, jaw and chest, to finally reach your leaking mound. It was his turn to inhale your scent, mind hazy with pleasure and completely taken by you. No amount of thinking ever mattered, you mattered, all of you. Art had found an altar within the confine of your folds, ready to worship it like he had been deprived off for years.

His tongue had lapped at your juices for hours, pussy drunk after the first orgasm he had pulled out of you and ready to sink into his addiction. His messy tongue hadn’t left you since he had started, essentially hours ago, swallowing your taste, drinking in your pleasure and praying for more. He sucked on your clit messily, movements becoming just as erratic as he was. He wanted more of you, more of this, he needed to live in your skin forever. You were so warm and felt so good and he loved you and he had missed you so fucking much and this was too much, ruining him from the inside and melting him into a puddle of arousal and unexpressed love. He was made to love you and you weren’t there, you had left and he needed to love you now and forever.

“P-Please… Baby please…” He kept starting, to dumb on your pussy to be able to finish his sentence. But finish, that he did. Cumming untouched himself, cock rubbed raw against the fabric of the covers, a wet patch under him, marking the spot he’d been soaking with his pour sensitive cock for hours. He was twitching like never before, moans exiting his mouth because of the air touching his sensitive tip, so red it looked like a popsicle. Lucky him you couldn’t see, or you’d swallow him whole until he was to cum without anything coming out.

For now he rejoiced in the pleasure of having you in this bed, shaking nonstop and coherent words and phrases erases from your vocabulary by his desperate acts on your now swollen cunt. His hands had been gripping on your hips, holding you firmly and relying on your ass cheeks for more grip when his attacks on you became too much and you would attempt to squirm away. You were now but a body, a doll, aimlessly moved by him will. His tongue went deep inside you, so, so deep, almost grazing your most sensitive point but still preparing your walls for his raw dick and the abuse it would lay on your eager pussy. He moved your body back and forth, having you rut your hips into his face. His blue eyes, clouded by pleasure and insanity looked up, faced by your breasts bouncing while you cried and cried, the pleasure too much. He freed one of your ass cheeks to reach a large hand over your tits, grabbing it roughly and toying with your nipple while he sucked on your clit. He had heard the sound of the sheets ripping and wanted to be the next one to be torn into.

He was too much, to passionate on you, slurping and slobbering on your weeping cunt as if it was his last meal. He was entranced by you, feasting on you with all the fervor he had missed out on showing you. As he lapped away, you jerked particularly harshly, too sensitive to handle much more. Your fingers tried to pull him away from you, hair tightly gripped in your hands but he was quick to fight back, sending you a glare before going back to you.

In one desperate motion, strength fueled by your impending orgasm and his own, hip humping the air as his large cock stood tall beads of cum leaking in large drops out of his tip, he flipped you over, you on top of him, seating on his face while he laid under you. The weight of your ass on his chin and your cunt smashed against his face, he could die happy again. His hands found your ass again while yours grabbed onto his growing blond locks and the other holding onto the headboard. You road his tongue like never before, smearing your cum on his face while you cried for your release.

“A-Art ! Fuck, Art, baby ! S-So good !” was all you could say at the moment, the rest, incomprehensible cries of pleasure and babbling that signified how far gone you were.

Art watched your tits bounce again, saliva dripping out of the corner of his mouth and all over your center as he dreamt of sucking your nipples until the were swollen and sensitive. He made love to your cunt, moaning inside you like he could do so well, grunts and whines of pleasure going heard by the entire floor if his suit wasn’t the only one here. His own eyes filled with tears, balls releasing cum all over his stomach and your back.

You gripped his hair like a rope you held onto at the risk of falling. He admired with desperation and passion, your head thrown back in pleasure as you finally came, crying out his name while drenching his face in your cream. You could barely catch your breath that he had thrown you off of him and onto the mattress. He stood between your legs for a minute, staring.

That was the clearest memory you had of that night, other than the week long ache between your legs and the pulsating of your clit at the sound of his name. You, on the other hand, were etched into his mind like a picture carved in stone to be remembered forever. Everything he looked was a reminder of you, even his daughter, Lily, a great enjoyer of your movies, one where you had played a princess destined to save her kingdom. Ironic how both he and his daughter saw you the same, the princess and the savior.

He marked you into his mind, your hair splayed onto the bed, eyes lidded with pleasure, mouth parted as you stared at his cock. Every piece of you he memorized. In every position too. And, intertwined amongst the sounds of pleasure exiting his throat, muffled by his mouth almost fused to a piece of your skin, pressed to your cheek or to your forehead in one of the most intimate acts he had performed in the last five years, he cried out for you. Desperately crying out your and the anger he had suppressed towards you. Anger or sadness, sorrow so deep it almost felt like grief. His movement became harsher, almost mean but so full of love too. He loved you so much, present tense, he hadn’t stopped ever. He was still angry at you for leaving though, so he told you in a mix of incoherent and inaudible words all mushed together, he voiced his feelings for how you had abandoned him, left him heartbroken, grieving in silence.

“H-How…How could you d-do this to me, huh ?” He’d say angrily, before pleading. “I love you… F-Fuck… I l-love you… Please… I love you…”

Drilling his raw dick inside you felt like life itself, your walls tightly holding him in while he kissed your thoughts away. Open mouth kisses, all tongue and teeth, this was life, made and in the making. He was making life with you that night, creating like he had never before. When you rode his cock, balls slapping against your ass while his lips latched onto your breasts to suck on them, that was life. When you’d been thrown on all fours, taking the nastiest backshots known to man, pussy molded to take him and only him in, that was life. When he laid you on your side, one leg raised up by his muscly arm as you took another load of his cum from the back, that was life. When he fucked you with your thighs pressed to your chest and ankles around his head, his swollen lips kissing you tenderly in contrast with the force of his hips slamming into you, that was life.

Life hadn’t stopped until sunrise, where you had both fallen asleep, you taking in his ‘I love yous’ and your tongue tied with pleasure, the kind you hadn’t felt in decades, to speak up. With each new position came more cum and more words from him, poor Art, fucked dumb by his sweet girl that had finally returned. Years of guilt and love unexpressed had finally been told in loud moans and babbling about how much he loved you and was sorry.

It didn’t matter.

You had both fallen asleep with his cock nestled inside you, sheets tossed to the floor and arms holding your body close. He slept with his face nuzzling into your hair, a scent of vanilla and citrus he had missed like a man lost in the desert missed water. Your fingers held onto his forearm with your back pressed to his chest. You were both molded against one another, peaceful and quiet.

Reality hit the next morning, when he woke up to you getting dressed. You weren’t in a hurry but you weren’t staying, he couldn’t let you leave though.

He was quick to leap out of bed and in front of you, hands holding your cheeks to force you to look into his eyes.

“Please… Look at me, please baby…” He had begged, your empty eyes finding him. “Stay. Stay and let me apologize, make up for what I did-“

“You didn’t do anything Art.” You cut him off, swatting his hands away and going back to the pieces of your dress. “And there is nothing to make up for. You wanted Tashi, I can’t fault you. The sex was good, let’s stop there.”

Tears welled up in his eyes, desperation evident as he tried to hold you in his shaky hands.

He followed you around the bedroom and out of it when you were done, running after you while almost sobbing before dropping to his knees in front of you. You sighed, exhausted by the exchange while he sacrificed his dignity once again, for someone but never himself.

“Please baby, stay with me. Please, I love you.” He was erratic, breathing quickening while you looked around.

“Art…” Your eyes dropped to him, staring into his beautiful blue eyes and holding his face tenderly. “You don’t love me. You’re bored and you love having me in bed, that’s it.” You tried to walk away but he crawled after you, holding onto your leg desperately.

“No !” he exclaimed. “Don’t dismiss me or my feelings, please. I love you, with everything I have-“

“Ironically after Tashi left, thought.”

“I’m a fucking coward, fine ! But I can’t lose you again, not like this !” He was scared, that morning, truly. Even more than when Tashi announced she wanted a divorce.

“You don’t lose someone you don’t have. You can’t have someone you don’t want.”

“Fuck you ! I want you, I need you, baby, please !” He needed to know that you’d be there tomorrow and for the rest of eternity. He couldn’t lose you again, not again. “Look at me and tell me you don’t love me.”

You threw your head around, amused by his desperation and how brazen it made him sometimes. “You’re ruining this Art…”

“I can love you for the both of us if that’s the issue. I want to be yours, I want to marry you, live life with you, be everything you need from me !” He wasn’t listening, never.

Thinking back, it wouldn’t lead to anything, the pleading and all. He could see it now. Hindsight was 20/20. It would’ve been useless and even disrespectful to ask you to love him again after discarding you that way. But to get you back and lose you so quickly had killed him a little more that day. He had needed to hear it though, to understand. And understand he had.

“Art.” Your voice was firm, like a line of cement in the sand and a pause in time, freezing him and his tears in place. “I never needed you. None of you. I just wanted you, and was content with that. You were the ones who discarded me because you didn’t need me.”

He remained frozen in place, giving you the opportunity to leave, your eyes glued to his, his beautiful tearful face as he stared in silence. When the doors of the elevator closed, he collapsed, crying harder than ever before, crying like he should’ve years ago when he had found your stuff gone. He had lost you again. His pretty girl. The love of his life.

He might’ve doubted his love for Patrick or Tashi, but loving you was like breathing air. It was easy, it made sense, before and still now. And you’d been ripped out of his life forcefully. Even now, when his pride managed to supersede his love for Patrick and Tashi, nothing could come above the love he felt for you.

After that night, he had been floating aimlessly around life, drained out of life. You were somewhere, everywhere in his life, but near him and that was punishment, cruelty for choosing Tashi and ruining all four of you. He needed to see this and had refused, now he didn’t have the choice.

~

The next to see you was Tashi, or if you had to be precise, it was Lily, her daughter.

There was a park down your block, you often went there to write and skateboard. Tashi didn’t know that. She didn’t know anything. To know about you was to punish herself for about everything she had done in the recent years. Including getting married. She would never admit that though, to much pride would be sacrificed if after a decade she admitted that she missed you even after the way things had gone. It would also require for her to admit that maybe divorcing Art was not really a good idea. Not when a part of her still loved him, a part you had created, the part that accepted to love and be loved beyond tennis because love, as painful as it could be, was beautiful. Even in the most vile and painful moments.

You’d been sitting for about an hour, head thrown back as you let the spring breeze and the sound of birds communicating through the trees seep into your skin. Your week had been hectic and this was the first real moment of peace you could claim to benefit from, truly, a moment of peace where life let itself float around you while you took a pause.

Your pause, ended brutally, the sound of rushing footsteps and then a little yelp waking you up from your meditation. You opened one eye, looking down in the direction of the sound to find a little girl, laying on the floor with watery eyes and a wobbling bottom lip.

Poor thing had probably tripped. You straightened yourself, leaping off the bench to kneel in front of the little girl. She was distraught, looking around and fiddling with her skirt.

“Don’t worry, there’s not that many people, no one saw.” You’d said to reassure her.

She looked at you timidly before nodding, accepting the assessment you’d made on the situation. You didn’t know if anyone really had seen or not, but you did know that the park was essentially empty at this hour of the day.

“Hurts…” She mumbled, still looking down shyly. You wanted to chuckle, she was adorable, but she could’ve thought that you were mocking her so you refrained.

“Do you mind ?” You asked, pointing at her knee that was visibly turning a little more red by the minute. She shook her head, holding onto your shoulders so that you could lift her up and sit her on the bench. She had grazed her knee, it was bleeding. You looked up at the little girl in silence, this would probably have her panic if you told her. She looked about seven years old max and seemed used to run around freely, she hadn’t called for a parent yet. Luckily, you had everything you needed in your bag. You’d learn to carry around a first aid kit because of how easily you got hurt and out of habit. It reassured Tashi, back in the days, to know that you were okay or at least had something to take care of yourself.

You chuckled, her memory would truly haunt you until death if it could. You’d see her face in a piece on bandaid if you let yourself.

Pulling out your essentials, you pulled out a bottle of water as well as cleaning alcohol. You saw the little girl tense but quickly regain her composure.

“You’re not scared ? That hurts sometimes you know…” That wasn’t the smartest thing to say to a kid, but you said it anyways.

“I-It’s okay… Mommy says bugs could grow in my boo-boo if not cleaned. I hate bugs.”

You grinned, amused by her rationality but also by her tight grip on your shoulders. She was scared, she just knew better.

“And what does your mommy say about you running around alone in a park ?”

She didn’t respond, too focused on your face. Like she’d seen it before, and frankly, looking at her, you felt like you had seen her before. The messy curls on top of her little head and the way her nose scrunched and her eyes narrowed when you dabbed the alcohol on her knee. You wanted to pay more attention, but the memories where ghosts that had to be ignored or they would ruin your life.

“I’ve seen you before…” She said. You hummed, quietly asking for precisions. “In the TV. You were really pretty. You had a sword and all… It was cool…”

She’d seen one of your movies, for children kinda. A little bit violent in some scenes but for children technically. With a princess who wielded the sword better than any knight.

“Did you like it ? I personally did. Loved the sword fights.” You asked, softly placing the bandaid on her leg and giving her a thumbs up.

“Me too, but I have to be careful because they’re dangerou-“

“Lily ?!”

You both were interrupted by a loud voice not too far, rushing quickly towards you. The little girl hopped off the bench with a smile, running in their direction after muttering a soft “mommy”.

You would’ve loved to turn around, but presently you were too annoyed to do so, angry to not have noticed her resemblance to the man you had seen a few weeks prior and the woman you hadn’t seen in years. You exhaled, seating back on the bench and watching as the little girl chatted away, explaining how “the princess from the TV healed her knee”. You watched Tashi search around until her gaze found yours and froze.

If you’d been in her head you would’ve seen it all, the fireworks, the crashing waves of a hurricane, the tornado, the screaming lady who resembled her but simply couldn’t be, Art and her’s wedding day, the fights you found yourself at the center of and all the times she’d have sex with him thinking of you but without feeling guilty because she knew he did too. You’d see that and about a thousand other things because she was going insane at the moment while you looked almost bored to see her.

She stood up, mouth slightly parted and her eyes never really leaving yours while her hands gripped on Lily’s smaller one, like she was afraid that she would run and disappear again, like she had previously done and like you did years ago.

For someone who was paid for her advices and known in the business for how easily she could get in someone’s head through words, Tashi was struggling a great deal at words right now. She was stuck between speechless and too angry to formulate clear words.

“Mommy ?” Was what brought her back. She looked to her daughter, plastering on a fake smile to appease the worried child and caressing her hair.

“How about you go play for a little while I go say thank you to the lady, okay ?” In any other circumstances she would’ve gone home, done with the whole outdoors thing and ready to get back to work but the situation was different with you present here.

When she assessed that Lily was far enough to not hear, she stomped towards you, angry eyes burning through you. She was ready to hand you a slap worthy of movies but was stopped by your less that amused eyes matching her expression. You were politely asking her to refrain with your eyes, an expression she’d almost never been on the receiving end of.

Tashi stood there, watching you attentively, like she expected you to disappear. She took the time to observe you, take you in. Your gaze was some distant point in front of you, possibly Lily, seeing how you smiled while she laughed loudly.

You hadn’t changed much in a decade, looking as young as when you were in college. They’d all felt the mark of time as it was engraved on their features, burnt with painful precision to signify the years of conniving, lies and deceit they’d been put through by each other to maintain the illusion that they were doing better than the next. You looked fine, they didn’t.

Even she, felt like she didn’t look good, worn out by the pretense of perfection of the wife and coach who only sought to bring out the best out of her husband, make him the best. Not that he could ever really become it, not when he was so busy trying to play for two. Ironically she did find respite in her motherly duty, finding bits of herself you had taken with you in her darling little girl. Ball of oxygen like she had never experienced before, the kind of fresh air tennis could bring her.

“She’s cute, your daughter. Looks so much like you, almost feels like Art didn’t have anything to do with it.” You said nonchalantly.

She could’ve carved your eyes out for that comment, slapped you with nasty words about your life and how bitter you were that it wasn’t you. She remembered how you four had planned it. You and Art were supposed to marry because you loved each other the healthy, reciprocated, committed way. Like a couple who wanted to grow old and have plenty of kids together did. Tashi, she loved you as much as she loved tennis, but tennis came first. Patrick loved Art as much as he loved tennis, but he loved Art more. They’d find mutual benefits being together, because they worked and loved each other in a way that worked. Loved each other like two pieces of one tennis driven soul. After one very long and celebration filled night where everyone had won something, you’d made a promise that reeked of love, the kind Tashi had never allowed herself to feel for anything that wasn’t tennis. She loved Patrick really, but you first and Art too. You all made her feel alive the way tennis did. Art wanted children, with you, and you wanted kids with him too. Patrick and Tashi, it was more of an eventuality for after retirement. Adoption maybe, or you. It didn’t matter, but it all worked out for all of you. That night, she felt like she was on top pf the world. She crashed a few months later when she fought with Patrick and Art had started his divisive bullshit. The fall of Tashi Duncan, the one who could’ve but never would again.

“She’s a good kid, more like him than you think. But you wouldn’t know, you’ve been busy.” She responded after a while, both to defend herself but also to spit out her anger towards you. It had to come out.

“Don’t expect me to stick around where I’m not wanted.”

“Oh fuck off !” Your nonchalance was getting to her, anger as evident as the sorrow in her voice. “The victim bullshit about how you weren’t wanted can work for the other two but I knew you first. No one in this world wanted you more than we did.”

“Yeah, maybe, but you treated me like shit.” Your tone wasn’t changing while hers shifted from assured to shaky.

“So what, you leave ? We scream at you once and you leave ?” You turned to her, looking into her eyes as if looking through her while she stared at you, awaiting a response. It was surprising really, how easily she lost her temper and composure when it came to you. You were like gasoline to her fire. She’d never show as much passion than in the moments that had to do with you.

She hated you in that moments, because you left her alone. She lost tennis, her mind then you. She couldn’t do this without you but she didn’t have the choice, she faked it until it felt real and suddenly you appeared again. On her screens, then billboards and then ad’s and commercials. Obviously she knew you shared some brand deals with Art, she’d done it on purpose so that she could feel bits of you in him. She smelled you all over him when he had returned from that trip for a brand she had forgotten. She only remembered the look in his eyes, like Life itself had been ripped out of him. They’d shared a look that day and it was all they had needed to know. She, who had started to doubt whether divorce really was the best choice, she now knew that it was. You hadn’t just been lingering around, you were the constant. The glue.

That night, Art had slept in the guest room, crying himself to sleep for her to listen through the walls as she cried quietly. They were pathetic truly. But at least they knew that they had to separate really. No more fight on his part to keep his family, no more doubt on hers to keep tennis. Neither could stand the other any longer nor could they stand the charade.

“You treated me like shit Tashi. You’re not the only one who knows the other and unlike you and your lapdog, I actually don’t mind the truth, even when it makes me look like shit. You treated me like shit, so I left. Or would you have preferred for me to be like your little white boy and stick around to get a taste of what the Tashi Duncan, never really Donaldson, bullshit, conditional love is ?”

You sounded more animated, brought alive by the commentary on a life you would never regret because you knew it brought you the peace they never could enjoy. She usually enjoyed getting a rise out of the other two, feeling like she was better for remaining collected when they didn’t.

Now, it didn’t feel like a testament of her success over you. She never wanted to win when it came to you, it wasn’t about that, it was simpler. You were like a drug she got addicted to, but the good kind. Like being addicted on life. You made her feel alive independently of tennis. With you around, she actually would’ve been okay losing tennis forever because with you around, the story about how tennis was a relationship where you owed it to someone else to entertain them, to build a relationship and whatnot, it just didn’t work.

She felt healthier, in her mind and body with you, like genuinely be alright no matter where life lead her. And one day it all started crashing. Slowly. She should’ve seen it coming, or at least she could’ve paid attention taken charge to fight this the right way. She didn’t. When things got bad for her she’d focus entirely on tennis and when things got bad between you four, tennis was all that mattered until it wasn’t there anymore. She wouldn’t be choosing tennis had she known that it would take you away.

She had lost tennis too at the end so frankly, it didn’t matter anymore but she refused to lose her right to be mad at you too, because that’s really all she had left of you. Her anger and a daughter who grew to emulate parts of you she didn’t know she had missed.

“She hates bugs.” She said. It surprised you, it was soft, a whisper. Almost like she wanted to hide. You could only chuckle because it made you laugh, thought it didn’t make much sense.

“Everyone should hate bugs.” You responded.

“No…” she sighed, annoyed that she had to clarify. “She hates bugs like you do. Has to take off her clothes to check that they’re not there and take off the invisible veil of their presence on her skin.”

“That’s the best way to free yourself from the bugs.” That was weird, and uncool. She looked at you like you were a freak and for a second she was taken back to college, where you were the cool mysterious girl who everyone wanted to fuck but were too scared to approach. You really were a weirdo who hated bugs and could throw up if a caterpillar crawled your way. You were so cool to everyone but her. Just like now.

If you could’ve described her expression, you could only associate it with the way she looked at Patrick usually. That was the look she gave him when he’d forget himself and talk to her like she was any kind of girl he picked up off the street at a bar to fuck. She looked at you like you had lost your senses and had about five seconds to find them which was funny because she was the one losing it.

She loved you a whole lot, which was insane.

She stood and looked at you from above with disdain and contempt.

“You’re a pussy who runs away at the slightest of issues. I loved you, I list tennis and you left me because I wouldn’t coddle you anymore.” She spat venomously, aiming to hurt.

You looked at her, indeed hurt but also surprised. You were more wounded by what her words meant than what she had said.

“Y-You… You think I left because you weren’t playing anymore ?”

“That’s exactly what you did.”

And for the first time you were affected. This was the first encounter that had really thrown you back in the past.

You felt tears well up on your eyes, the feeling of your eyes trying to soak up the tears to keep you composed, so overpowering your throat was stuck. You didn’t want to cry and she didn’t want to make you cry, but she also did, because then maybe you’d feel exactly like she had for weeks back in the days.

“If… If tennis really had been what had sealed the deal, I would’ve stayed for Art, fucked him and gotten pregnant, Tash…” You chuckled, trying to conceal the pain that came with understanding what her best friend felt. You finally saw her view, all because of a simple phrase from her. “I left… I left because I was useless to all of you, Tashi… Without tennis to make you happy, what good was I around other than to have sex and remind you of how disposable I am ?”

You had cried yourself to sleep countless times, begging for assurance that you were good enough, that you could be loved, that you deserved it and weren’t disposable. Patrick’s words had been etched into your skull like a scar that wouldn’t ever go away. And she didn’t seem to see it correctly because she looked disgusted but really she was angrier than before at you for speaking up after a decade and at everything that had a part to play in her loosing her best friend.

“I never said any of that crap to you, so why would you think that ?”

“Because you hadn’t said the opposite, Tashi. You sunk and pushed me away, made me feel like shit for trying when I could never understand but you wanted them. Even Patrick you wanted him around. I was the waste of air…”

And she would’ve screamed at you that no, you weren’t, she had loved you and still did and would burn herself raw to show it, because she loved passionately and her passion with Art depended on you now, kinda. She would’ve slapped Patrick’s jaw off and had him searching for you to apologize. She would’ve done this a thousand other ways and shown you the years of tear stains and sleepless nights where she could only fall asleep to your voice on the TV, singing your life away as if she didn’t exist and wasn’t watching you. She wanted you to hear it, all of her anger and hatred.

Instead, Lily returned, running happily while you whipped your tears. She could only hear the ‘mommy’ coming out of her daughter before tuning her out to watch you. You knelt, listening to her talk about her rocks and the other kids while she watched or admired. Before she knew it, you had rolled away on your skateboard leaving her again.

~

If you presently took time out of your day to think about your exes, it wasn’t because it felt good to think about them, but because they were all crumbling, Tashi included, the most put together one of them. Patrick, it made sense. But Tashi, it was a surprise, though not so much. After Art had unilaterally decided, to announce his retirement, most likely without consulting his wife and coach, you had expected a shift, a the divorce announcement which had followed a month later was part of that. But to catch the three of them together, yelling at each other in the middle of a school was even more a surprise.

You’d been riding your motorcycle downtown when you passed a school. Stopping at the red light, you almost fell off your vehicle when you heard three more than familiar voices in front of a school gate. You felt them themselves had noticed you when all three stopped to turn in your direction. You were remained still, staring straight at them through your helmet. Tashi, always in the middle would be staring into your eyes if she would and a part of you wished she was, to see how she would react. Didn’t matter though, a part of you knew she had recognized you first, her body shifting from anger to unprecedented sorrow, like seeing a ghost of the person you had lived the most in a stranger passing by. You knew they were gone yet you still saw them and felt all the love you had missed out on giving them.

Lily noticed you next, how, you didn’t know, but she did, waiving her arm so hard it could come off at any second. The rest you tried to ignore feeling slightly, but only slightly, humiliated that you’d been pulled so easily into an impromptu dinner at Art’s apartment where Lily stayed for the week because you had stupidly promised her to recount the tales of your movies and concert adventures all over the world. And obviously, after the dinner from hell where each mention you had made about your past and its relation to your current career was met with a snarky comment, mention about a more than private anecdote or a longing look that made you feel like you had passed away tragically, you had to deal with The Conversation. Years of work, years of you steering clear off these people, all gone down the drain because of one little girl that just so happens to be a little too curious.

You would’ve honestly chosen to have a bullet going through your forehead before you willingly accepted to be in a situation like this one. But you also hated being inconvenienced and Art’s look of desperation was enough of one without dealing with Tashi cussing you out again, so yeah you accepted. Patrick was pretty chill, actually really nice to be around when sober.

And then ensued the longest and lost quiet ten minutes of your life, with Art looking down at you like you could evaporate, Tashi looking at you like you spat in her face and Patrick looking at you with genuine happiness, almost glad that you were here. You, were looking elsewhere, everywhere, analyzing the space and checking for the nearest exit. You would’ve made a run for it if you weren’t so fucking lazy, really. Unlucky you, victim of her own lacks.

Patrick was the first to talk, hesitant but clearly not feeling guilty or ashamed of anything. Or maybe he was but had learned to deal.

“I’m really happy to see you. I get to thank you for rehab.” He said and you almost glared at him, which he noticed, grinning like he used to, the smug fuck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spat.

It made him chuckle really, how hard you tried to detach yourself from them but kept yourself in their orbit at almost all times. You were a brat and he was glad to see it hadn't changed.

“Right.” He nodded, complying with amusement. “Well, whoever is responsible in your team for my rehab as well as the apartment I got after, you’ll thank them for me.”

“They’re getting fired.”

You were stubborn, maybe more than him even, and he understood, definitely more than the other two who too busy hating you or loving you unconditionally.

Then began another five minutes of silence, broken once again by Patrick.

“Okay, I feel this is a waste of time.” He had barely started that you were already standing up to leave, quickly stopped by a frantic Art standing up in a hurry to stop you while Tashi’s head snapped in your direction coaxing you into sitting down with her eyes. Patrick enjoyed this greatly, how pathetic you made these two. “I mean, if we’re going to be here, we might as well talk. We need to, we haven’t in a while after all.”

Tashi’s anger changed focus to go to him, glaring at him with disdain.

“Since when did you become a fucking preacher of all things healthy and positive ?”

“Since someone nicely offered me a nice stay at a top tier rehab center that offered solo therapy sessions. The kind we all need.” Every word seemed to be pointed at you and you almost whished you’d left him to rot in the back of his car.

“I go to therapy, you ungrateful fuck, you won’t be teaching me shit about a healthy mental state.”

“Oh, what do you go for ? To learn to be less of a pussy and not run when things don’t go your way ?” Responded Tashi, more than annoyed by your condescension.

“No, I go to learn how to deal with nasty cold-hearted cunts who fail in life and take it out on everyone around them because they lost their lapdog husband to do that. Clearly it’s working because I’m here.”

“Oh look at her, she had a voice and a purpose now.”

“Don’t talk to her like that…” Muttered Art, finally losing it enough to speak up. It was cute, coming from a good intention and making shit worse.

“And look who finally grew a backbone ! Arthur Donaldson, standing up for someone, how nice. Of course it has to be for her, because if you won’t be fucking her behind my back and moaning her name while balls deep in me, you’ll be defending her.”

“Don’t start Tashi. You moaned her name more than I did, you’re mad that I got to see her and you didn’t, so let’s discuss that !” His voice increased in volume, meeting her as she stoop in to get in his face.

“Why the fuck would I need to see her ? She abandoned me ? She’s a fucking traitor !”

“Oh that’s rich coming from you Tashi, because you drilled in my head that after your fucking knee gave up on you I didn’t serve any other purpose than a nice fuck to remind you that there was always someone more useless than you now !”

The voices were coming from everywhere, heated and hurt by the wounds of the past, the kind that couldn’t heal until they were acknowledged.

You were all breathing loudly, looking at each other in pure anger, the anger you had repressed for years, the nasty words and ideas that you had let fester in your minds, desperately trying to move on and to grow into better people. You were all bitter, and in a funny twist of things, the most insane one of you remained sat, smiling at the three of you, enjoying the show.

“Oh, sorry.” He raised his hand, waiving it nonchalantly. “Don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying this. Happy to see you communicate.”

Had it been anyone else, you would’ve punched their teeth in, but Patrick enjoyed this. Sober or not, he remained annoyingly toxic, thriving off of the chaos that follows him.

“You’re enjoying this ? Really ?” You sounded just as surprised as you were amused, balancing between two moods that had you going from hot to cold.

You watched him stand up and get closer to you, close enough for you to smell the mint body wash on his skin. Good Lord, he smelled so good you could fuck him right now.

His hands traveled from your forearms to your cheek, holding your jaw nicely while you tried to act utterly disgusted by his presence and his touch.

When he kissed you, all tongue and drool, it was a little more difficult to act, mostly when you pulled at his hair the way he like and when his hand moved to hold your throat softly.

“What do you need to drop this act ? You know you want us, sweetheart. You need us in your life and it’s really embarrassing that you’re still keeping up the bit after more than a decade.”

You would’ve been bewildered by his audacity had you not been almost fucked mercilessly into dealing with it. It didn’t mean you wouldn’t enjoy putting him in his place, which is what you did when you pulled him away from you by the hair before pushing him back into his chair but not pushing his hand away when it loved to you exposed hip bone.

“I don’t know what fucked up substances had been floating in your system that fried your brain, but you told me to fuck off and die Patrick.”

“You’re being dramatic.” He cut you off with a grin, enjoying the situation even more.

“If I remember correctly, you called me useless. That sounds pretty freaking clear to me. As a matter of facts, the two other’s didn’t even say shit to shut you up so you can choke for all I care. Because yes I left, but you gave me the only reason I needed to.”

And it was funny really, how anger made them all lose their memories because you had really been given a reason, but they still felt like victims.

“So you listen to what my bitch says now ?” Tashi chimed in, angering you further.

“I’m as much your bitch as he was so, yeah, if you’re not defending me, you’re agreeing with him.”

And the perspective wasn’t new to her. It just meant she was wrong all that long and that wasn’t something she could accept. She has thought for years that you’d looked for the exit, when in truth they had opened the doors for you.

And now, it was her turn to kiss you. Nasty and greedy, teeth knocking and pussies leaking as she cussed you out like never before. She wanted you and hated you for making yourself wanted after years. Wanted you so much she pushed you onto the table, swatting the teacups off the table to crash loudly. When her mouth traveled down your neck, biting along the way, as if she was attempting to catch up to years of not marking you as hers, you cried out her name all while pulling at her hair.

Maybe it was the use of the present tense that fucked with her brain on a cellular level. Or it was the way Patrick had kissed you as if he had rights over you when then knew she was the only one who had rights over you. And fuck, you looked so good when you were a bitch, that had her leaking out of her panties like never before.

She refused to take up responsibility but you also refused to admit that you had settled for less, accepting the apologizes hidden in her actions. Mouth mean and piercing when her touch was so soft, like an apology that wouldn’t come out.

When she slid your pants down along with your panties, you expected to get eaten out, instead confronted by a crying Tashi.

“What the fuck ?” You exclaimed, seating up and looking at her.

You tried to raise her hand but were pushed back down instead mouth stuffed with your panties while she hid between your thighs. You would’ve loved to get her tongue deep inside you but with her tears running down your inner thighs, it was hard to not be distracted. She sobbed louder, finally stopping before springing up and storming off.

Art was the one to stop her, worried for the woman he had seen cry maybe twice in his life. His eyes asked a thousand questions wonder and fear traveling through, powered by the fear of failing to rekindle the old flame that kept him alive.

“Why did you have to fuck her ?! Why do I have to deal with her again ?!”

It was harsh but you didn’t take it personally, never with her. She was a loyal person, ironically, and to lose the pillar that you were had killed her inside. Her finger pointed at you while she sobbed, letting go of years of resentment.

“You abandoned me ! You left me but you fucked him and you pay for the other to go to rehab ! He hurt you and you save his life when you should let him burn !”

The mask of assurance and anger was crumbling like a sand castle under a wave, traveling as fast as her tears. You wanted to reach and comfort your girl but now could be the wrong time.

“They get every piece of you, even from afar and I get nothing ! You give me nothing but fucking dust !”

This time you did reach out. Holding out your hands to her and letting her fall into your arms like she usually did. She never fought to reach you, she melted for you more than for anyone. Maybe that was why her marriage to Art had failed, because by default, you were the quickest route to her heart beyond the planning for the perfect tennis related life. You actually touched Tashi.

After a while she stopped crying and marched towards Patrick to slap him because he was a smug bitch and the source of all of this, but he was also a good sport and took it rather easily. He didn’t care about the slaps, not when they were a necessary step to getting you back into this circle, the correct universal order of things. And he was also pretty glad that she’d slapped him if it meant he could watch her lodge herself between your parted legs and stick two digits in your mouth to shut you up when you yelped at the coldness of her breath on you.

“You’re sick, you know that ?” She had chuckled when looking at you dripping center and rubbing her thumb on your clit. “I cry just a little and you actually get wetter. That’s fucked, even for you.”

Yeah you were weak to her tears and yeah it did make your insides throb but not because you liked to see her cry. It was because a very twisted part of you knew that only you could get her to act like that, only you could get her to lose that ego and be human for a second. And when she looked up at you with reddened eyes and lashes still a little covered in tears, you did moan because fuck she was hot. She was insane but she was hot and you’d missed having her tongue on you so you took it like the good girl she had trained you to be.

“See how easily things go when you stop being dramatic ?” Had scoffed Patrick, still grinning as he walked towards Art.

“Fuck y- Aah !” You couldn’t finish that sentence, nor when she sucked your clit in like she loved to do whenever you got mouthy. It trained you to be polite.

Patrick watched you slowly lose your resolve, twisted into a submissive little thing, the sweet girl he used to fuck into oblivion, not the egotistical pop star that refused to fucking talk to him.

While Tashi had her fun between your thighs, slid behind Art who evidently couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Oh, how he had missed you, all of you. To watch Tashi devour you like she did ignited a fire in him he hadn’t felt in about a decade, or six months if we went back to the last time he saw you. Here you were, laid on top of his kitchen like a godly offering meant for him to devour. He looked down at you core, watching your cunt throb in desire, never really satisfied until you were filled up properly.

He watched you with glossy eyes and a line of drool picking out of the corner of his mouth, he wanted his mouth of your tits, so nicely presented, bare under your top. Was that what you wanted ? For him to see you and think of your night together, like he had done for the last weeks ? Were you trying to get him to lose it ? He was going insane, more than usual. He could still see him jerk off in the shower, his bed or his TV whenever something about you came up in his head or his screen. He saw you and would cry at the loss of you all while cumming all over himself repeatedly.

“Look at this, pretty girl…” Muttered Patrick, running his nose down Art’s neck. “Look at your sweet boy, Art. Look at how hard you get him when you start acting nice with us ?”

His large hands slid under the blond man’s joggers, pushing the tiny briefs he wore to the side, to let his large cock be freed. You saw him sigh in relief, his long girth and thick balls finally freed from the piece of fabric barely covering them. You could salivate at the thought of him, how his pore dick just could never fully fit in the tiny underwear Tashi had him buy. He’d get aroused and need to push them to the side to breathe. Obviously, all that before you offered to get on your knees and relieve him from the itch.

And you were already getting crosseyed, losing your resolve quickly and forgetting why you were angry at them for all these years. You couldn’t remember, but you knew that you were ready to be used by every single one of them. Starting with your poor baby boy who tried his best not to jump you, respecting Tashi’s time with you all while leaking cum through his joggers. He tried to be so respectful that was the one to drop his pants and tug at his balls to give him a little friction.

A little always went a long way for Art, so when you saw him cum all over Patrick’s hand and not down your throat you were a little disappointed.

Tashi barely spared anyone a glance, to busy exploring your insides with her tongue. When your legs closed in around her, she knew you were close, enough to satiate a decade long thirst for your sweet juices. She sucked in your clit again and you tried to crawl away, too sensitive for the double sucking and penetration, her fingers sliding inside you to part you open properly.

You were so close, whining and moaning her name while rubbing your pussy on her face. But then she stood up, leaving you to cry out while you watched your orgasm die on her tongue.

“You really think I’d let you cum after you ghosted me for a fucking decade ?” She said, looking at you with a mix of disgust and amusement.

You wanted to scream and cuss her out for leaving you so high and letting you crash down, but you knew better and you knew she would do worst if you didn’t watch your mouth.

Patrick was the one to make a move, kissing forehead with another fucking grin. Was that the only thing he did ?

“Be nice to our girl, Tashi… She was certain that we hated her guts.”

“Yeah, well that’s not my problem. You fuck her if you want but she’s not cumming until I say she does.” Her gaze was decisive and you knew that was an order for the two men in the room as well as a threat to you.

You tried to plead with your eyes, pulling at her heartstrings to no avail, you’d need to make yourself be forgiven. But it was also easier to plead with Art who was still staring at you, desperately waiting for his moment. Patrick stared at you both, amused at your fickle attempt at restraint.

He'd always be the one to let himself be driven by his dick so really, he could salute Art for the attempt, had it been him, he would’ve fucked you stupid already. And he would, eventually, he wanted to, his throbbing cock a proof of that. But he wanted to deal with this shit first.

“How about we calm down and let all the anger go, huh Tash ? Look at our sweet girl, look how much she’s missed you ? How about we let her show us, huh ?”

For a few seconds, both looked into each other before she rolled her eyes, agreeing in silence. In mere seconds you were lifted up by Patrick, his hands holding onto your bare ass cheeks while toying with your pussy lips. His nose ran along your nose, inhaling your scent and the aroma of you on his tongue.

“You’ll get to put on a show for us, princess.” He said, nipping on your collarbone all the way down to your nipples. You closed your legs around his waist, throwing your head back in pleasure when his lips ran around your nipple, sucking it in vigorously.

He stopped in his track, turning towards a frozen Art, unmoving and red all over, from the tip of his ears to the tip of his cock. He watched the way you swallowed, eagerly waiting to get to suck him dry. He liked it, when you became just a little bit insane over Art’s cock, salivating at the idea of him drilling his cock down your throat.

Tashi had been watching you this whole time and the way you looked at the blond man. She liked how much you craved Art too, enjoyed watching you two fuck for hours, until you couldn’t think or form a coherent sentence. She stood up, walking in his direction and running a finger over the slit of his tip. He was shaking at the touch, almost ready to cum on the spot.

Tashi took his hand and followed after Patrick and you, dragging the man behind. She pushed him to the bed and Patrick threw you on top of him, Art’s arms wrapping around your waist protectively. He didn’t know what he was protecting you off but he wanted to be in his skin at the moment deep in every crevice of your being.

“Show us what you did together and I’ll forgive you.” She said, taking a seat right in from of the bed next to Patrick.

You could’ve refused, acted like you were better than that, had changed and grown out of that phase of your life and didn’t need her forgiveness. You could’ve been the mentally stable being you claimed to be, but you didn’t. Because you weren’t. You missed being used by all three of the people in the room, watched and admired as a vessel of their pleasure. You missed Tashi being mean to you in bed, so mean that you would cry for hours until she was done and cuddled you afterwards. You missed being used as a cum dumpster by Patrick and his disgusting ways of having sex, thick hairy balls rubbing over your face when he’d make you suck him off. And you missed Art taking you until you were left shaking in his arms, so roughly that neither of you could think a single rational, logical thought.

You missed the messiness of life with them, not prim proper and rational but genuinely sick and twisted, toxic filled bullshit that had you feeling passion like never before. You missed actually being better than them and rubbing it in their faces by always being the first to do the right thing.

You were just as twisted as them, calculated and conniving as the next. Birds of a feather, that was all you, all four of you insane and desperately in love, even if it hurt sometimes.

You didn’t talk shit out that night or the day after. You fucked all night, finally forgiven around 4AM, just in time for Tashi to sit on your face while Art and Patrick battled each other to eat the cum out of you. The weren’t sure whose it was but they wanted a taste. And that went along for the next day because while Patrick and Tashi could actually control themselves, Art never could, not with you. He kept going until his balls hurt and he’d been shooting blanks inside you.

Patrick wouldn’t apologize, not with words but with actions, because he was still an ego drive piece of shit and he refused to admit being wrong when it came to you. But he loved you so he became nicer and watched his words around you, because he refused to go insane again at the loss of you. Tashi would move on as if nothing happened, her girlfriend was back and she’d eventually get married with Patrick because she actually worked with Patrick and loved him the way she couldn’t Art, but never the way she loved you. Art would pamper you like you were heaven on Earth, worshipping the very ground you walked on and feeding off of your love for him just like you fed on his love for you, because you actually loved Art, loved him enough to get married and have that baby you talked about.

The dynamic was weird but it worked and it was all planned also. Nothing had really changed, except you, you became worse. Just as unstable as them.

Dilf/Husband!Rafe thinks you deserve all the pipe. 😻

With Rafe drowning in development projects, your son’s last year playing football, and the two of you trying to plan your daughter’s upcoming sweet sixteen, getting a free weekend to spend together alone felt like a dream. Especially getting to be however loud you wanted with no kids around and your gorgeous husband feeling the need to be inside you at every possible chance.

The white sheets of the hotel’s bed were a mess as your manicured nails dug into the linen. Your poor cunt was sore from the constant stretch of his thick cock plunging in and out of you, his low grunts of pleasure behind you only making you leak more around him. You watched him in the long standing mirror of the expensive hotel room, his muscled body flexing with each thrust he gave you as his hips smacked against your ass.

“This what you needed, huh?” He asked with a breathless growl as he relentlessly pounded into your wet hole. His blue eyes met your gaze in the reflection, a smirk coming to his face as he watched you take his dick. “So goddamn beautiful baby. You deserved to be filled every fucking second. Don’t you?”

You nodded the best your dizzy head would allow you to only for your upper body to give out as your arms grew weak. Your cheek pressed against the soft mattress, huge diamond ring and glittery band shining as you reached your hand back to tap at Rafe’s abs. “R-Rafe baby… it’s too much.” You mumbled, your climax slowly sneaking up on you. It wasn’t like you wanted him to stop, but the man was huge and your cunt was sensitive. You definitely deserved it though, he was right. While two of you had a very healthy sex life, everything had been so busy lately that you had missed getting to feel him, hear him and be with him in such an intimate way. “You’re gonna make me cum baby.” You whimpered, voice muffled by the sheets. The sounds of your moans, and wetness filled the hotel room along with the sexy groans and words of your husband.

“Fuck… you sound gorgeous. Let me fucking hear you baby, tell me how much you want daddy to shoot his cum inside your perfect cunt.” His tone and little strained, which caused you to come undone with a cry to his name.

Snickerdoodle pt. v

pairing(s): Art Donaldson x reader, Tashi Duncan x reader, Patrick Zweig x reader summary: You try to navigate the complexities of a relationship involving Art and his wife, Tashi, as well as their boyfriend, Patrick. warnings: smut 18+, like three different sex scenes at least, masturbation, threesomes, consensual voyeurism, piv, everyone is bisexual, the trio kinda shares reader, adults (parents even) running around like horny college students, a bit of domesticity, silly poly adventures, hastily proofread word count: 6.5K prev part

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

It’s feels like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

You quickly snatch your hand away from Tashi’s neck. She clears her throat, and you bring both palms to smooth down your thighs. 

The sun isn’t shining as brightly as it was before, but it’s enough to feel exposed under the scrutiny of Art. 

Though, you can tell that he isn’t angry about what he just walked in on. Instead, he looks like he wants to get a closer look, but stayed back out of fear of interrupting.

He’s still standing in the doorway when you remember the reason you were there in the first place. 

“Wait—where’s Kaleb?” You gasp.

“He’s uh,” Art stammers. “I left him back in the kitchen. He wanted a post-training shake.” He’s got his hands on his waist as he continues to assess the two of you. “I told him I was gonna go find you guys…” he trails off, finally making his way closer to the couch that you two are occupying. 

You peer up at him like a child about to be corrected. 

“So, uh, what’s this?” He says dragging his hand under his chin like he’s amused. 

“Um,” you glance at Tashi. She’s sporting an equally amused expression as she takes in Art’s still evident bulge. You go to answer, but she beats you to it. 

“What’s it look like?” 

Art’s eyes cut to hers, and they appear to have a conversation between their gazes that you aren’t privy to. You decide that’s your cue and stand to leave the room. 

Just when you think you’re going to slip past, Art catches your wrist in his hand. 

“Where’re you going?” His voice comes out in that gentle, calm tone that you’ve come to expect from him, but his eyes are sharp. His gaze alone making you feel like he’s holding you down with a hand wrapped around your neck. 

“I was gonna go get Kaleb,” you murmur. 

“Alright,” he brings a hand to your waist. “Just a second?” 

You nod despite yourself. 

His thumb rubs over your hip, making you shiver slightly. He drags his eyes down your figure before looking over to Tashi. You follow him.

She’s staring at the both of you, lip tugged between her teeth. Her legs are crossed neatly. The hungry look in her eyes does nothing to deter from the regality she’s currently exuding. 

You’re still staring at the visage of Tashi when you feel Art’s lips capture yours, pulling your attention back to him. 

You melt into him, instinctively bringing your hands to trail up his arms. His skin is slightly damp and cool to the touch as your fingertips trace the muscles that flex as he wraps his arms around you tighter. He presses the palm of his hand against your spine as your head tilts back to allow him into your mouth. 

The way Art kisses you is familiar, yet the feel of him still ignites something in your belly. It’s almost violent, the way it completely takes you over. Nothing else exists. Just his lips, his tongue. His hands that pull you closer to him. His teeth that nip at your skin. Just him. 

You gasp out his name as he dips his head down to press open mouthed kisses along your jaw. He has you fully pressed up against his front, one hand cradling your head and the other holding you in place by the hip. You release a shaky moan when you feel his tongue lave at the skin below your ear. 

There’s an almost imperceptible creak behind you, but Art’s ministrations keep you fixed on him. 

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs continuing to place kisses onto your skin. “Y’know that?” 

Before you can respond, you feel a hand snake around your waist. It’s not Art’s. 

You look down to see their slender fingers traveling down your hipbone and shudder when you feel stiff nipples press into your back. 

Tashi carefully pulls your hair away from your neck, placing a delicate kiss to the skin there. The motion makes you arch your back into her, which she takes as an indication of your consent. 

Your breathing starts to dramatically increase as you take in the feel of Tashi’s hands sliding over your body along with Art’s. He wastes no time in getting his mouth back on yours as she takes over nipping at your neck from behind. 

Tashi seems to enjoy pinching your skin between her teeth and watching as it makes you squirm in their hold. One bite in particular makes you whine into Art’s mouth. He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, gently shushing you as she rolls her tongue over the stinging skin to soothe you. 

You whimper, but relax into them once again. 

Art cups your face in his hands, whispering “good girl” against your plush lips. Your pulse quickens at his praise. 

You want to fuck him so bad. Both of them. 

And when Tashi lithely brings her hands under your top, trails her nails up your skin before pinching your nipples, you almost give in. 

But you remember the reason you’re here. 

“Wait,” you reluctantly pull away. 

Tashi releases her hold on you, and Art steps backwards to give you some space. But he grabs ahold of your hand instead, not ready to let you go just yet. 

You rub your thumb over his hand in yours. “I need to go,” you say softly. “I’ve gotta get Kaleb home.” 

He nods, allowing you to release his hand. 

You clear your throat. “And, um, I also think I need some time to…think about all of this.” 

Art looks confused by your statement. As if reading his mind, Tashi answers for you. 

“Yeah, of course, you probably need some time to process,” she reassures you, but her gaze is locked on her husband. Her eyes telling him “let her have this, don’t push her.” 

When you find Kaleb, he’s knocked out on the sofa, clearly worn out from the day. His protein shake from before sits half full on the coffee table. Art tells you that it’s more banana smoothie than anything. He offers to carry him to the car, buckling him into his booster seat. After softly shutting the door, he makes his way to your side. 

“You’re not upset are you?” He’s giving you that look. The one he makes before resorting to groveling. 

You sigh. “No, Art, I just,” you glance at your son through the window. He’s still sound asleep. “I just found out some things today that surprised me. About our relationship.”

He swallows before leaning his side against your car, head hanging low as he takes in your words. 

“I didn’t know Tashi knew about us.” You say simply. 

Art raises his head. “I—I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

You scoff. “Of course it was, Art! You know that would’ve made things easier for me.” You cut a glance at Kaleb again as he shifts in his car seat. You wince before lowering your voice. “I felt like I was your mistress, Art, why didn’t you tell me the truth?” You ask. “And I don’t buy it’s because you didn’t think it was a big deal.”

You raise your eyebrows at him as he picks at his fingers. “Art?” 

He sighs, stepping away from the car before turning to face you fully. “I wasn’t sure you’d be into that.” You furrow your brows. He stammers to fix his statement. “I mean I didn’t know if you would want to get involved in a situation like ours. It was almost easier to just not talk about any of it,” he trails off. “And I could pretend I was just a normal guy who met this wonderful woman. And I didn’t want to ruin it.” He’s looking at you with pleading eyes. 

Art’s voice softens. “But I know it was selfish of me to avoid it because of my own comfort. I should’ve been transparent with you from the beginning.” 

You only cross your arms. 

Art steps closer to you. “I promise I was going to talk to you about it—about everything…especially now that I—“ 

“Even about Patrick?” You raise your eyebrows expectantly. “Were you planning to tell me about that as well?” 

“Yes,” he nods. “I was also going to tell you about Patrick.” He reaches for your hand that’s tucked into your arm. 

You’ve learned that, for Art, part of the communication process is maintaining a physical connection. It’s like if he isn’t touching you in some way, the words won’t resonate. So, you let him take your hand in his. 

“I also wasn’t sure how’d you’d react to that,” he mumbles. “Not everyone is keen on finding out that the man they’re sleeping with is also attracted to men.” 

You almost can’t believe him. “Art—“ you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “It’s me. Of course I don’t care that you aren’t straight, hell, neither am I.” You laugh lightly. It brings a soft smile to his face. 

“If anything, it would’ve been good to know before I slept with him,” you say, quickly looking off before he can process your words. 

“Wait, what?” 

You sigh internally. 

“When did this happen?”

You try to wave him off. “Oh it was just a random thing a little while ago. We were both high, and I’d ran into him at a gas station one time, and it was my anniversary week, and you were busy and it just happened…” you say, stringing all your words together. “You know how it is.” 

He shakes his head. “When were you planning on telling me about this?”

You bite your lip, avoiding his gaze. 

Art sighs at your lack of response. “You know what? Let’s save that for a later conversation.”

“Yeah, I think that’s for the best,” you say as you turn to check on Kaleb. “I’d better go,” you nod your head in his direction. 

Art takes a look at your son before agreeing. “Yeah, it’s getting late.”

He lingers in his driveway until you’ve buckled your seatbelt, making you promise to text him when you’ve made it home safely. 

ᯓ

You take some time to process the situation you’ve ended up in. It’s harder than you’d expected. You’d gotten so used to Art’s presence in your life that not seeing him makes you feel like an addict going through withdrawals. Your fingers itch to text him when you see something he’d like, and you yearn to at least hear his voice at night when you’re alone in bed and devastatingly horny. 

Some nights, when you're at your lowest, you wonder if Art is also thinking of you, if he ever touches himself to the thought. You bite your lip, maybe he buries himself in the warmth of Tashi to cull the ache, or maybe it's Patrick he turns to.

You ease the throbbing between your thighs to the looping thought of him and Tashi and Patrick, and Art and Tashi, and Patrick and Art.

Despite it all, you reluctantly ignore Art’s requests to meet up, emphasizing that you just need a bit more time. You don’t think you can handle seeing him. 

In truth, you’re feeling scared again. Although Tashi had effectively shown you that she was a willing participant in this, your nerves still get the best of you. Your anxiety working to come up with all types of catastrophic outcomes. 

Worries triggered by deeply rooted insecurities fester in your brain like what if Art and Tashi really are using you? What if this is just a temporary thing? Something to spice up their marriage. Maybe the Patrick thing wasn’t enough for them. Will they drop you once they’ve gotten their fix? 

And even worse, what if it’s not just a fling? What if you can’t ever imagine going back to how your life was before Art? How would it even work? How would Kaleb react? 

It's evidently clear how much Kaleb adores Lily, but you're not sure how he'd approach the idea of possibly being step-siblings. God, how would you ever begin to explain the the complexities of your relationship to an eight year old?

Thinking about it makes your head throb and your stomach churn. So, you settle for avoidance. You don’t have to confront the unknown if you never encounter it. Easy. 

ᯓ

Unfortunately, your attempt at going cold turkey with the Donaldson’s is thwarted when you see them at a PTA meeting. You’d gotten there early, as usual. Nancy’s husband, Frank, had helped you carry your cookie-filled containers into the building. You think he might just enjoy getting first dibs on whatever goodies you've decided to bring.

You’re surprised to see Tashi as she’d stopped regularly attending them after Art retired. She chooses the seat next to yours, placing her purse down before draping her Burberry coat over the chair. Art pulls out the seat beside her, stealing a glance at you as he settles in. 

For the entirety of the meeting, you’re completely distracted. You keep glancing at Tashi’s long legs that are crossed beside you, your eyes trailing from the pointed toes of her shoes up to where her hands are clasped in her lap. You think you’re being discreet, but when Tashi stands to greet amigurumi Cynthia, who’s eager to tell her about the new options on her Etsy shop, Art catches your eyes with a sly smirk. 

Most of the parents have started to leave, but you remain seated, unable to free yourself from this obvious trap.

Art takes the opportunity to slide into Tashi’s empty seat, smug smile still stamped onto his face. You look down at the napkin he’s holding with a half-eaten snickerdoodle cookie. “So, how are you?” He asks before taking another bite. He's trying to ease his way into it, you can tell. He presents the question so casually, but underneath that cool collectedness, you know he intends to ensnare you.

Your chest rises as you inhale. “Hmmm, it’s a Monday night, and I’m stuck here,” you tease. “But I suppose it could be worse.”

“Yeah, and at least we have good snacks.” He offers. 

You nod in agreement before gesturing for his cookie. He holds it out to you and you pinch off a piece before bringing it to your mouth. Art watches as your tongue darts out to lick the crumbs that stick to your lipgloss. Whatever is swirling around in his gaze is exactly why you’ve been avoiding him lately. 

You swallow when Art turns to face you. His hair has gotten longer, making his curls drape over his forehead as he leans against the chair. He gives you a soft grin. “So…how do you feel about going to get dinner tonight?”

And there it is.

“Oh…um,” you start, searching for an excuse. 

“Before you start, I know your mom keeps Kaleb on days like this.” 

You curse internally. “Okay, well what about Lily?”  

“She’s at home with Patrick.” 

You glance over at Tashi, who’s attempting to end her conversation with Cynthia, and begin to open your mouth. 

“And Tashi’s fine with it. It was her idea.” He says, absolutely beaming. 

You sigh and stand up from your chair. 

He leans forward, elbows pressed into his knees. “So, what do you say?”

You groan. “Fine, I’ll come.” 

The two of them help you pack up your containers, patiently waiting as you open the trunk and instruct them on where to place them. When you turn around from shutting the trunk, Tashi steps forward, closing the distance between you two.

It feels eerily similar to a night, mere months ago, in that very same parking lot. 

“Thanks for agreeing to dinner,” she says softly, reaching out to rub her palm down your arm. Even through the sleeve of your puffer coat, you shiver at her touch. Thankfully, it’s cold out, so you can blame it on the temperature. 

ᯓ

About an hour later, you’re seated at a cozy restaurant, tucked into the corner booth. It's not especially busy, but a delicate clatter of voices and clinking utensils accompany the soft jazz that's playing. You’re sandwiched between Art and Tashi as they talk about the first time they met. 

They tell you about the Junior U.S. Open, how both Art and Patrick asked for Tashi’s number, how she had promised not to be a homewrecker. You smile wistfully, the thought of them young, bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed making you feel a sense of nostalgia on their behalf. 

Tashi places her hand on your thigh for emphasis when she tells you that Art had been so adorable and polite. “All he wanted to talk about was how amazing my tennis was.” She grins at him before taking a sip from her glass. “That’s probably why I kissed him first.” 

“First?” You lift your brows. 

She nods. 

“So, did you like all kiss at the same time or…?” You ask, glancing between her and Art. 

She hums out a laugh. “Look, I was eighteen, you can’t blame me for not wanting to choose.” 

Art chuckles. “Well, what’s your excuse now?”

He’s joking, but you see the way his mouth slightly twitches. 

Tashi scans his face and purses her lips. “Two parasites latched onto me when I was young, and I still haven’t figured out how to remove them.” 

This seems to bring a genuine smile to his face. He looks at you. “You see what I have to deal with?” 

You shake your head at their antics. You think that maybe you can relate to eighteen year old Tashi. 

It should feel odd. Being on what feels like a date with the man you’ve been having an affair with and his wife. Yet, when you all leave the restaurant, and they walk you back to your car, one of them on each side, you think that it feels surprisingly natural. 

When Tashi leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips, you sigh into the cool night, eyes fluttering shut. 

And when Art inevitably presses his forehead to yours before kissing your tingling lips, you know this is something you won’t be able to avoid any longer.

ᯓ

Before long, you fall into a routine with the two of them. They take every opportunity they can to wine and dine you, and when Tashi is working, Art has no trouble keeping you occupied. 

The time you spend with him is not much different from before. Except now, instead of coming to your place every time, you spend the night with him on your free weekends. 

Art lets out a deep sigh that reverberates through him when he finally sinks into your cunt in his marital bed. He presses you into downy pillows that smell like his wife and whispers words of praise. Telling you how perfect your pussy is, how you feel so good around him. You get high on it, head almost exploding from the rush of it all.

Maybe it’s the freedom that’s come from you all being on the same page, but sex with Art ascends to a higher level. Without the guilt weighing you down, the only thing you feel in your gut when you’re with him is his cock as he pounds into you. 

Art fucks you like he’s determined to make you never want to leave him. Every stroke feels purposeful. Every motion communicating something you’ve feared confronting. 

After Art coaxes a third orgasm out of you one night, you cling to his tacky body as hot tears spill from your eyes. 

He’s quick to wipe them with his thumb, asking if you’re alright. You can only nod and sniffle as you let him hold you and press kisses to your tear stained face. 

He says something to you, but the words don’t register as you give in to the seduction of sleep, your body having been exhausted beyond repair. The three words he’d uttered float over your head and disappear into the dark.

ᯓ

Art and Kaleb continue their tennis lessons. Apparently, he’s showing a considerable amount of potential. And Art’s eyes light up when he boasts about how much Kaleb has improved since they started. 

He wins his first junior tournament, and you swear you see Art wipe a tear. He ignores your taunts and asks Kaleb how he’d like to celebrate. Without reservation, he excitedly asks to get ice cream with Lily. 

It’s late November, and the night air is likely too brisk for it, but you and Art agree to take them to their favorite ice cream shop. You hesitantly let Lily order for you, as she’d asked you to pick out a table for them and urged you to “trust the process.” 

You watch them with a smile on your face as Kaleb all but presses his face to the glass obnoxiously, which makes Lily pull him by the arm and say something that you can’t hear. Whatever it is makes your son roll his eyes, but he uses his sleeve to wipe the spot where he’d left condensation on the glass. 

When the three of them join you at a table next to the window, Lily instructs Art to feed you her surprise concoction as her and Kaleb await your reaction. You close your eyes before playfully glaring at them in suspicion, then let Art place the spoon in your mouth. 

“How is it?” 

“Hmm…chocolatey.” You answer. “I like it.” You take the cup and spoon from Art as you dig into your chocolate ice cream with M&M's sprinkled on top. Lily grins as Kaleb insists on trying yours. Art chose strawberry flavored, to which you wrinkle your nose. 

Later, the two of you sneak a kiss after the kids fall asleep in the backseat, and you decide you can’t get enough of the taste of strawberries.

When Art drops you and Kaleb off at home, he tells you goodbye with a quick kiss to your hand. You’re smiling from ear to ear as the cool wind whips your hair around. He attempts to say those three words again, but he’s interrupted by Lily groaning loudly from the car that her tummy hurts. When he turns back to you, you’re already chasing after Kaleb who’s run to the front door holding his trophy over his head. 

ᯓ

“Don’t look at him,” Tashi tuts at you. “Keep your eyes right here, baby.” She tilts your chin up with her index finger, forcing you to look at her.

You tear your eyes away from Art where he kneels on the bed next to Tashi. Like her, he’s completely naked. His cock is bobbing between his milky thighs, still shiny from your spit and his precum.

Tashi had rubbed your clit as you sucked him off moments ago. But, she pulled you off of him before he got a chance to cum, making you lay down under her.

You toss your head back when she aligns her pussy with yours, mouth falling open. 

She starts gently rocking back and forth, your clits bumping and sticking to each other.

She turns her head in Art’s direction and takes his mouth in hers. You cant your hips up to meet hers as you take in the way their mouths move against one another. 

“You like seeing me fuck your little toy?” Tashi whispers into Art’s mouth. He groans her name, mouth open wantonly against hers. 

“Look at her, baby, she’s so pretty like this, huh?” 

Art nods and tries to reach out a hand to touch you, any part of you, but Tashi places a hand on his wrist. 

“Hold on.” She looks at you. “You want him?”

You keenly nod your head. 

“Say please,” she murmurs, still grinding into you. 

You choke out a moan. “Please, Tashi can I—can I have him?”

She looks at Art and nods her head down at you, giving him permission to touch. 

Art leans down to grab your face between his hands, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.  

Then, he’s shimmying himself down to the bed to lie down beside you. He finds your neck and starts trailing kisses there. You arch your back as he tweaks your nipple with his thumb and forefinger before skimming down your stomach. 

He replaces his fingers with his mouth as Tashi continues to use your cunt. Art’s eyes flutter shut when he closes his mouth around one of your nipples. He releases a muffled moan, and you realize he’s grinding his dick between the space created by your hip and the mattress. 

He tries to inch his hand down lower, where yours and Tashi’s pussies are kissing each other. When his fingertips brush your clit, you shudder, and Tashi slaps his hand away. 

He easily recovers, bringing his palm up to caress under your breasts. 

Art seeks out your mouth again, moans into it as the rutting of his hips begins to sync with the motion of Tashi rocking against you.

You gasp. “It’s too much—m'gonna—”

Art whines against your mouth, and you feel his hot cum coat your thigh as his hips stutter against you. Tashi releases a guttural moan that makes you reach out for her. She presses her fingers onto your tongue as you begin to convulse below her. 

You can feel her throbbing against you when you come down from your high. Art’s head is pressed against yours as he stares at where you and his wife are still connected. 

Before climbing off of you, Tashi splays her palm over Art’s face, pushing him backwards, mumbling about how he “made a mess.”

You giggle in agreement, making him bite down onto your bare shoulder with mock annoyance.

Tashi walks to their large master bathroom, her nude hips swaying. You peel your eyes away from her as you turn your head to face Art. 

He smiles softly before rubbing his nose against yours. You’re giddy, and your eyes are twinkling, and Art feels like his heart is beating too fast to breathe. He has your full attention, so he says it. 

“I love you.”

The words have no place to go but to your ears. Without thinking, you pull him in by the back of his neck, press your forehead against his, your eyes locking. “I love you too.”

ᯓ

“You know I think it’s really unfair that you make me babysit while the three of you fuck without me.” 

“Oh, please, spare me, Patrick,” Art says as he bumps his shoulder against his on his way around the kitchen island. 

“No, I’m serious, you two’ve basically been courting her,” he points at Tashi and Art. “As I stay at home playing Stepford wife,” he pouts. “When do I get my turn with her?” 

“Wow, Patrick, your turn?” You sneer at him. “I’m not a pony.”

“Sorry, that came out wrong,” he says, grinning at you. “When do I get my second turn?” 

“Oh, screw you!” You say shoving him by the arm. “Is that all I am to you?” 

Tashi tries to hide her laugh in her cup of coffee. 

You attempt to maintain your scowl of disapproval, but the steam seeps out of you when Patrick envelops you in his arms from behind, pressing his lips to the side of your head. “Of course not. You know I like you for your big…brain.” 

You roll your eyes at his inability to be serious about anything, but instinctually lean back into his chest. 

The two of you hadn’t slept together since your rainy day way back when, and not for his lack of trying or your lack of desire. The tension between you two threatened to boil over at any moment, but you thought it was a good idea to ease into this thing with the trio.

So, you had refrained from fucking Patrick, but you did spend time together when possible. When he wasn't busy with tennis, which wasn't very often.

Despite his foolishness, Patrick makes a good friend. He’s surprisingly easy to vent to. You never have to worry about the risk of him passing judgment.

Like the time you’d gone on a rant about your ex-husband and his fiancée.

“I mean it’s fucking sickening the way she acts so polite now! The bitch had the nerve to ask me to be one of her bridesmaids, Patrick! Her bridesmaid.”

He frowned at you around his cigarette. “Ugh, that’s fucked.”

"That’s what I said!"

“I hope she has a freak accident before the wedding,” he murmured. “Maybe not fatal, but like a coma or something so you don’t have to deal with her.”

“Ugh, no, that would only delay the process and give Chris a reason to play victim for however long,” you said dismissively. “I can hear him now,”you deepened your voice to imitate him. “I can't believe you’d try to hold me accountable for my wrongdoings at a time like this. My freaking fiancée is in a coma.”

Patrick chuckled. “Yeah, true, but honestly, that bastard would probably ditch her anyway. It’s hard to be a trophy wife from a hospital bed.”

ᯓ

He has a way of looking at you and seeing through all the layers. In a way, you think you two were bound to bond, both being connected to a married couple.

During moments like this, when you’re all together, it feels like you’re less outnumbered. Though, you suppose Art clings to you too much to ever really be free of him, not that you’d want to anyway. The two of you had been attached at the hip ever since he told you he loved you. Patrick had joked that you were in the honeymoon phase.

Tashi leans across the marble countertop, and pats Patrick on the cheek. “Aww do you feel left out?” She coos to him before pushing herself up from the barstool. 

He brushes off her derision opting to focus on eating the rest of your breakfast croissant.

Art can’t help but snicker as Tashi gushes to Patrick about how good you taste coming on her tongue. She goes to place her mug in the sink before grabbing a handful of your ass, making you gasp as her nails poke into your skin. Patrick groans around his croissant and glares at Art, his face already tinted pink. 

Tashi leans her forehead against yours, the two of you giggling before she pecks your nose sweetly. “Okay, I have to go,” she sighs. 

You nod, but pull her in for a kiss on the lips, dreading the end of your time together. You had been spending the weekend with them while Kaleb stayed at his dad’s. But, Tashi would be leaving for the day as she had an event to attend. 

“Maybe the three of you can catch up while I’m gone,” she winks before squeezing Patrick’s shoulder. Art rolls his eyes at the implication, but he smiles when Tashi whispers something in his ear on the way out. 

ᯓ

After debating about how to spend your day, you begrudgingly agree to join Art and Patrick on the tennis court. The sun is offering enough heat for you to feel comfortable as you chase Patrick’s serves. You start out teaming up with Art, the two of you playing against him. 

Patrick quickly figures out that he can win by aiming between the two of you. Art, ever the gentleman, only returns the ones Patrick serves directly to him, leaving you the opportunity to hit the ball. While you, on the other hand, assume that Art’s going to get it, leaving no one to actually return the ball. Once the two of you get on the same page, Patrick has won enough games to win the entire match. 

When you switch, and Art later beats you and Patrick, you start to think that maybe you’re the problem. 

You feel like a kid again, the three of you running around as your laughs ricochet against the court. You cheer when you manage to actually place the yellow ball where you want it to go. You had served an ace, but you're sure Art had purposely let you have it. By the time you’re done, you’re sweating and beaming. Art dabs your forehead with a towel, and Patrick gives you a piggy back ride back to the house. 

You swing your legs back and forth and place a kiss to his ear. It should gross you out when you taste the saltiness of his sweat on your lips, but it only makes you tighten your arms around him more. 

It occurs to you that you might’ve forgotten how to have fun as an adult. It’s been so long since you’ve felt true joy in a relationship. Your marriage to your ex had sapped you of your gleeful youth, and for awhile, you didn’t think you’d ever get it back. 

You hadn’t had the official “what are we talk” yet, but you know you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. 

So, when Patrick later dumps you onto the bed, after you’ve all had lunch and cleaned up, you sink into the mattress and let him press kisses all over your face. 

“I wanna eat you up,” he groans, the vibrations making you laugh as his beard scratches your jaw. 

You extend your arm out for Art who is already making his way towards the two of you. Both men hover above you, moving in sync as they mouth over your skin. Every so often their lips meet each other, tongues darting out to get a taste. 

Patrick promptly pulls the oversized t-shirt you stole from Art over your head, making your messy curls even more chaotic. 

“I’ve waited so long to fuck you again,” he says before taking one of your nipples in his mouth. 

You try to tell him he’s being quite dramatic, but a moan interrupts you when he starts twirling his tongue around your hardened bud, at the same time as Art drags his wet mouth down your abdomen. 

He’s on a sure path toward your underwear, stopping to admire your face before dipping his fingers into the hem. 

Patrick gets impatient and places his hand over Art’s, making him tug your panties down faster. But before either of them can get their mouths on you, you raise your leg up and place the sole of your foot against his abdomen. Patrick looks up at you, his pupils dilated and eyebrows scrunched together. 

Art’s wearing a similar expression, and you can barely contain your grin as you push your foot forward, making Patrick raise up on his knees. You push yourself up and lean back on your palms. 

“Not yet, I wanna do something different,” you say coyly. 

“Yeah?” Art, always eager to please you, leans forward and plants a kiss on your collarbone. “What do you wanna do, baby?”

You trace the side of his face with your fingertips before tucking a few loose blonde strands behind his ear. “Show me what you do when it’s just the two of you.” 

Art almost chokes, clearly not having expected your request. Patrick smirks. 

“Well, well, well,” he says, crawling towards you. “Who would’ve taken you for a voyeur, huh?” 

“Shut up, Patrick,” you say, grabbing his jaw in your fingers. You level your face with his. “Just show me.” You say as your lips brush against his. “Can you do that for me?” 

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he says and pulls you into a rough kiss. You moan into it before pointedly shoving him off. 

With your heart thrumming and your lip tucked between your teeth, you inch backwards, propping yourself up against the headboard. You meet Art’s gaze, and all it takes is a short nod from you to snap him out of his trance. 

To your surprise, Art grabs for Patrick first. He leans down over him, pulling him in by the back of his neck. He uses his thumb to tilt Patrick’s head back as he deepens their kiss. You think you can feel the butterflies in your own belly as you know just what it feels like to have Art kiss you like that. 

He strips Patrick of his shirt, barely breaking the kiss and slowly lowers himself into his lap. They continue to make out sloppily for what feels like hours before Patrick brings his hands around Art’s waist and pushes his shirt up as well. It’s then that you notice, Art has been lazily rolling his hips into Patrick’s. The sight makes your clit throb, and you drum your fingers on your knee in an attempt to withhold from touching yourself.

Art laces his fingers through Patrick’s dark curls as he starts to plant sloppy kisses along Art’s jaw. He eventually licks a stripe up the side of his neck before nipping at his earlobe, to which Art bucks his hips forward. His head is thrown back, eyes shut tight in pleasure. Just Patrick’s touch alone seems to be getting him off. 

Once they’ve rid each other of their remaining clothes, the two come back together. This time, Art traces figure eights along Patrick’s skin with his tongue as he lets his large palms roam over his body. When he gets to the small of his back, he bites down into his neck gently before spreading his cheeks apart and dipping his middle finger between them. 

You think they’ve both forgotten about you as they get lost in each other. Patrick takes both his and Art’s hard cocks into his hand, slowly jerking them.

You can’t resist it anymore. You bring your hand between your legs and start rubbing circles over your aching clit. 

The action must catch Patrick’s attention as he glances over at you with a sly smile. Suddenly, he leans over and cups his hand under your chin. He sticks his thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, and motions for you to spit. 

You obey him and spit into his waiting hand. Patrick then takes your saliva and uses it to glide over his and Art’s members. 

Art releases a broken moan as Patrick’s hand moves around them faster. They start to take turns pushing their tongues into each other’s mouths. And at the same time, you dip your fingers into your slick and spread it over your clit. 

When Art starts circling his middle finger around Patrick’s hole and humping into his hand, your head falls back against the bed frame, your eyes still glued to them. 

Before long, they’re spurting white ropes of cum against each other as you follow behind in quick succession. 

You finish with a whine, your knees drawing together as you clench your thighs. 

Patrick is slumped against Art, his head laid on his shoulder as they both watch you. “That was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen,” he laughs, making Art also release a full bellied laugh, his eyes crinkling.

ᯓ

When Tashi comes home later, she flicks on the light to find the three of you in a pile on her bed. 

You’re halfway straddling Art, cheek pressed against his chest. Patrick’s heavy arm drapes over your back, his face shoved into Art's shoulder as he softly snores. 

She sighs at the spectacle. Yet when she goes to turn the lights off again, she wears a smile on her face. 

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: I had to fight through a bout of writer's block and the pressures of being a senior in college to get this done. I hope you guys enjoyed it. <3 as always, my asks are open!

Tags: @fallout-girl219