Thinking About Patrick Zweig And His Sexuality…

spiderman!art x reader — MDNI

Who.. when you first found out, he tried to explain himself. extending his hands towards you but accidentally shooting a web, barley missing you. his eyes wide, “I—okay, you..you got me. I’m Spider-Man.” And you freaked out.

Who.. loves sneaking into your room by climbing your wall and knocking on your window, you had completely forgotten he was Spider-Man. You look out the window to see him stuck on the wall. “How—how the hell are you doing that? Art.” You gasped, he laughed right in your face. “you okay? did you already forget?”

Who.. whenever he comes back from a battle, he’s right at the window and as soon as you open, he gives you the biggest hug ever before he removes his mask. Scratches surrounding his face and his body. You quickly take care of those and the night ends with cuddles and sweet kisses.

Who.. wishes his suit wasn’t so hard to take off when you both were about to get intimate, you, legs spread all wet and ready for him but he’s busy fumbling with his suit, trying to take his leg out. He sighed in relief when he’s finally out of it, without a warning, slamming into you with desperation. He really needed this after all those stressful fights.

Who.. webs your hands against the bedpost before continuing to eat you out, his face covered in your fluids. All you could do is squirm and moan as he continued his restless assault on your heat.

memories ; art donaldson

art loved you. he had known ever since he had met you. he might’ve been hopeless in the moment (patrick said so, but whatever), but really, he won. he got you, and he was sickeningly content. you two had just gotten married, and were currently vacationing in greece for your honeymoon. the two of you were cuddled up on the hotel’s bed after a lazy morning, not wanting to get up.

you flashed a soft smile, noting his gaze on you. his palm rested against your head, the tips of his long, pale fingers tracing along your hairline. his thumb gently rubbed under your ear, in the tender spot behind it. he pressed a kiss to your temple, as he returned the smile, eyes flitting over your face. the warmth of your expression made his pulse quicken.

he leaned forward, pressing his mouth against yours in a slow kiss. his fingers gently tilted your chin, slender digits cupping your face as the kiss deepened. his tongue traced over your lower lip, the gesture lazy and yet full of affection.

“you’re my dream,” his hand tangled in your hair once he pulled away, eyes flickering to your face. he watched you intently, taking in the sight of you curled against him. his fingers skimmed over your side, tracing a constellation of old scars along your back. his expression softened, a tender smile tugging at his mouth.

you flashed another smile. “isn’t it crazy that we’re married?” you hummed, running your fingers across his chest lovingly. he huffed out a laugh, letting out a noise of agreement. he rested his forehead against yours. his breath was hot and steady, ghosting over your lips. “how did i get so lucky?”

the recollection came to him in fragments of memory, each flash more vivid—more tangible—than the last.

meeting you at a party he’d been drug to by patrick, his blue eyes flickering over you, lingering on your form as he nursed a cheap and watery beer. your head thrown back in laughter, the sound cutting through the crowded room and catching his attention. there was a flutter in his chest, he couldn’t hear what you were saying, but he wanted to hear it again. exchanging numbers and names in the cool, nighttime air. you’d flashed a sweet smile. “i’ll see you around, art.” and he watched you leave in a trance.

when he first kissed you, fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed you into the brickwall of a nearby building. your body arching into his as his mouth molded against yours. he remembered the first time he saw your place, messy and unorganized, records in no particular order with books covering your dresser.

he could recall the first time he took you to a coffee shop, your laughter over some dumb joke he’d said at the counter. your fingers in his hair after you’d dragged him to a club, the taste of tequila on your tongue as you’d pulled him into the backseat of an uber with a devilish gleam in your eye.

he’d met your parents next, your mother looked him up and down before your father pulled him into a bruising hug. he had taken you to the lake at night, stars speckled across the sky and the coolness of the water making your skin prickle. your fingers on his back under his shirt as you’d pulled him through your door, lips on his neck, eyes hazy with desire.

his head on your lap when you’d gone over to movie night at tashi’s, your fingers massaging his scalp. his head on your lap in broad daylight, your hand cradling his cheek, thumb tracing over the freckles that kissed his nose. the first time you’d kissed at his apartment, warm, soft laughter as he pulled you on top of him, his mouth on yours and hands wandering greedily over your body.

he slowly opened his eyes, the reminiscences still lingering in his mind. the rain still tapped against the window, a steady, lazy rhythm, providing a fitting backdrop to his thoughts. a tender expression still graced his delicate features, his gaze remaining on you. the warmth of his hand remained on your back, fingers gently tracing the pattern of your scars.

“i love you.”

“i love you too.”

intertwined by a ring. he’d never take it off. neither would you.

just rewatched challengers for the third time at midnight while eating a bowl of ice cream.. healing

Zendaya for Louis Vuitton

art with lily in the hotel bed makes me so upset. like tashi you could do no wrong but you did wrong there

just had to fight my bf and my bf's bf on the fact that tashi isn't a bad person 💔 i hate it here 💔

sweet ; tashi duncan

the duncanator.

that was the nickname you’d heard throughout stanford that people would use to describe tashi duncan. fierce and ambitious, with a sharp competitive streak. but, really, tashi was just your friend. silly, and witty, with a top tier fashion sense, and who knew what places served a mean cappuccino.

you could see how some people would be confused with your friendship. she’d taken you under her wing after a group project assigned to you two and a couple other people. the other students were about to let you do the work, and she was not having that.

now, the two of you were seemingly inseparable. weekly sleepovers, study hangouts, shopping sprees. you name it.

but, eventually, you started seeing a shift in your friendship. and you knew she saw it too.

lingering touches, wisty glances across the room, smiles became more pronounced whenever the other spoke. the hangouts became more frequent, silly texts were sent and responded to in seconds. but why would tashi duncan be interested in you? she would’ve answered that question for you any day. you only had to ask.

but one night.

the two of you were in her dorm for your weekly sleepover (every friday night, at 7:30 pm sharp. she’d questioned you relentlessly the one time you arrived at 7:45. never again), sharing a bowl of popcorn alongside some chocolate bars. tashi had her arm around your shoulders, keeping you tucked in her side. casual, right?

she’s the man was playing, and she would let out a scoff every five seconds. “this movie is so stupid.” she murmured after a moment, her grip on your shoulders tightening for a second before letting it go. “what, you don’t think channing tatum’s cute?” you flashed an amused look.

a slight pause. “he’s.. okay. i guess.” her gaze flickered to the tv in front of you two, seemingly looking for any flaws she could see outright on the man displayed. “too bulky.” she stated bluntly after a moment, her thumb rubbing your shoulder softly. you laughed, shaking your head. “your standards are way too high, tash.” a playfully shove in response.

“i hate you.” she replied, an almost teasing tone lacing her voice as she gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “the feeling’s mutual.” you grinned, taking a candy bar and nibbling on it. “i doubt it.” she retorted, the words followed with a light laugh. she pulled you closer to her, resting her chin on top of your head.

tashi was completely comfortable with you this close to her, your head resting on her shoulder, and her arm around your own. it was as if the two of you were meant to be like this. “she looks nothing like her brother. everyone in this movie is either stupid or blind.” she huffed. “c’mon. this is peak cinema.” you teased, lightly taking hold on her chin and pinching it lightly.

oh.

her heart felt like it had stopped at your touch. her annoyed expression turned into a soft, almost amused one as she leaned into your touch. “i’d hardly call this peak. or even cinema, for that matter.” she murmured in response, lifting her hand to gently take yours from her chin, intertwining your fingers with her own. she brought your interlocked hands to her lap, her gaze still holding yours.

“not a fan of cheesy rom-coms?” you teased, keeping your hands intertwined. her eyes flickered over yours, and she hummed softly. “nah.” she rolled my eyes playfully. another pause. tashi almost looked in awe, as she looked you over. you enchanted her, and she knew you had her heart held securely in the palm of your hand.

“not when they’re as cheesy as this one.” she said, her gaze flicking around your face. a pause at your lips. “i mean..” she trailed off, snapping out of it as she met your gaze once again. “it’s just weird. the plot in itself. why is cps not at her mom’s door?” she scrunched her nose in distaste.

“good point.” you hummed, turning your attention back to the screen. her gaze flickered back to you once you weren’t looking, admiring your profile. “..hey.” she spoke up hesitantly, almost as if the word escaped against her will. you turned back to face her. “yeah, tash?” you tilted your head. her fingers tightened her grip on yours for a moment, and she opened her mouth, then closed it. you felt a smile grace your lips.

god, her heart almost ached.

her expression turned tender as she returned the smile, closing the distance very slightly. it was subtle, but you both noticed it. “i just..” she trailed off, her gaze piercing into yours. she bit her lip, her eyes slowly trailing down to your lips once again. “mhm?” your smile widened, and you inched closer just the slightest bit. she leaned closer, trying to capture your mouth with her own.

she let out a soft sigh at the feeling of your lips against hers. as if she had been waiting for this. yearning, almost. she let go of your hand, taking hold of your waist and tugging you onto her lap. she almost couldn't get enough of you, and her expression was tender as she kissed you, oh so gently.

she broke the kiss, shifting to rest her forehead against yours as she breathed heavily. her hand traced gentle lines on the skin of your thighs, and a small, almost shy, smile tugged at the corners of her lips. she let out a soft laugh, looking down at where you were perched onto her lap, and let her free hand go up to lightly rest under your chin, making you look up at her. her thumb lightly swept across your bottom lip, and her gaze was just as tender as her touch.

tashi said nothing for a moment, her gaze just lingering on you, taking you in. “how long?” you questioned, smiling at her touch. a rare flush filled her cheeks, her expression turning into an almost shy one as she stared down at you. she let out an amused laugh under her breath, her voice quiet and almost embarrassed when she responded, “..a while.”

you laughed along with her, pressing another kiss to her nose. “me too.” you smiled, feeling your heart flutter. “you’re a good kisser.” you admitted, fighting back a giggle. she rolled her eyes playfully, tugging on a strand of your hair lightly. “so are you.” she hummed, and felt herself smile as you pressed a kiss to her nose.

if anyone thought the two of you were inseparable before, now it was way worse. whenever you roamed the hallways, she was right by your side, her hand taking hold of yours. tennis matches? you were there, front row with a stupid t-shirt that said ‘i support the duncanator!’ in bright red lettering. weekly sleepovers were now every two days.

and honestly? she couldn't be happier. she had all that could ever want, with you.

thinking ab dilf art rn.. i need to chomp on his biceps.

thinking about his veins rn

unpure ; art donaldson

the moment you entered the chapel, art donaldson—perfect, revered, untouchable—momentarily unraveled. known as the pastor’s son and golden boy of a devout small town, he was adored, idolized, and expected to be without flaw. but you weren’t there for god, salvation, or belief. you were there for him. and there was something intoxicating about tempting someone so carefully constructed to be pure—something deliberate in your movements, in the way your skirt rode up, in the way you sat just within his line of sight. you knew he was watching, just as you knew he shouldn’t. yet the tension—the push and pull of guilt and desire—felt electric, and impossibly easy. maybe it was wrong, but it never felt like it. not with the way you looked at him.