Pinned
⋆ ₊ ⊹ “My dearest, most beloved Emma, tell me at once…”
⋆ ₊ ⊹ les ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ | she/her | procrastinator | 📍chicago
artist , hispanic , wannabe intellectual , avid music lover , movie enjoyer , succession , dune , nosferatu , the bear , hunger games , pride & prejudice , challengers , billie eilish , lana del rey , tyler the creator , ariana grande , arctic monkeys
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please dodge situationship bot please 🙏
DODGE MASON who can’t let go of his toxic situationship no matter how much he tries.
this was a treat to make icl, bot here
Hello, I am Wael from Gaza🇵🇸🍉, a father of three children. I am writing to you with a heavy heart. I have launched a fundraising campaign to transport my children to safety. All I need is a safe place and to provide food and water for my children. You are the only hope for me and my family. Any donation if it is 20 euros or less.🙏
https://gofund.me/877bdefc
✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #372 )✅️
!!! please help if you can
Virgin Roger pinball and virgin would be a cute stumbling mess ♥️ met I see him bringing it up awkwardly after a night at the arcade sitting on his bed and he just mentions how pretty you are too shy to tell you what he wants it just turns into him stammering have sex with me please! Eyes wide, short of breathe hoping you’d jump his bones
he so would omg…
he’d be sitting at the edge of his bed, nervously glancing around with his hands clasped in his lap, contemplating how exactly he wants to bring it up because he doesn’t know how people just seamlessly transition from normal conversation to being inside one another, but he’ll try.
you sit next to him and he stares at you like you hung the moon and stars in the sky. he can tell you’re nervous too, but you hide it better than him. and he’s not sure what exactly prompted it but he just blurts out how “you’re so beautiful,” or “i just— i mean, you looked… tonight, you… you were the prettiest person in the room.”
he must’ve done something right because before he knows it, your lips are on his, and he kisses you back like his life depends on it.
it starts out tame at first, a hand on your thigh, the other on your waist, you cupping his face during the kiss. but then he decides to take the initiative, his tongue pushing past your lips to taste you. he thinks that’s what he’s supposed to do, and your soft hum only confirms that suspicion. the more sounds that come from you, the more confident he gets. his hands begin to roam across your body, from gripping your neck and arms to squeezing your tits and waist.
° ࿔⋆❀ summary: When your name comes up for the first time since college, Art gets hit with a tidal wave of nostalgia. He invited you over to a motel room to talk, but you both know that’s just an excuse.
° ࿔⋆ notes: fem!reader, sexual content, smut, angst
° ࿔⋆ w/c: 3325
° ࿔⋆ a/n: i love eternal sunshine deluxe and i had to get this out my head bc UGH i love dandelion but back to scheduled programming right after this
2010
Queens, New York
Art can hear the trombone player from down the street as he steps up the metal stairs. The keys jingle in his hand when he walks to his designated room. Opening it was disappointing, but he didn’t expect much from a thirty-dollar motel wedged in the corner of a highway-side inn.
The motel smells like stale cigarettes and old air conditioning. One of those places where the floral bedspread has long since given up, and the flickering neon sign outside the window buzzes just loud enough to drown out any of his overthinking.
The room was unnecessary; he’s already got a suite courtesy of the Open. But Art’s been trying to save his personal life to himself during his rise in the tennis world. It’s not that he wouldn’t want to be seen with you. God, he would. He’d take your hand right now and post it, headline it, put it on a damn billboard if you let him. But he knew you wouldn’t want to be being spotted with him. Especially after how long it’s taken for one of you to break the silence between you.
Finding you again wasn’t hard. He was in New York for the US Open and grabbed drinks with some old Stanford guys last night. One of them dropped your name in passing, mentioned you lived out here now. Art had your old number dialed into his phone before he’d even left the bar.
“Someone said you’re in Queens,” he said like it was nothing. Like it didn’t shake something loose in him. “I didn’t even know. I just— God, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”