INSINCERE GET OUT OF MY VILLA
Cosimo Galluzzi

tannertan36
ojovivo

Love Begins

oozey mess
Three Goblin Art

#extradirty
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i don't do bad sauce passes
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

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Janaina Medeiros

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Mike Driver

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@loveisliquor
INSINCERE GET OUT OF MY VILLA
think about your wedding night with your husband who uses his tie he wore for the big day to bind your wrists together and then proceeds to absolutely ravish you
AUSTIN BUTLER Training for Men's Health Cover
"How much have you been drinking, Lola? Is it the wine talking, or is this just another game to see how far you can push me?" His question leaves his lips as an unbothered, flat query that betrays absolutely nothing of the treacherous spark igniting deep within his chest, though his fingers tighten imperceptibly against her wrists, less a mechanism to balance her swaying posture and more the desperate reflex of a man drowning in the heady scent of fermented grapes and reckless honesty pouring from her mouth. "Because you shouldn't say things like that to me-------- not when you won't even remember the problems you've caused by morning."
"I'm terribly sorry, are you the police? Am I about to drive? No? So why are you counting my glasses of wine-- or assuming I would need them to push you. Sober me might push you more--" She gives him a feline smile, and shrugs her shoulders. She's had 3 glasses of wine, enough for her to reveal her hand, to say what she thought--for once. But she's still very much present, still overly aware of his fingers around her wrist, of the way his touch feels branded against her skin. "I told you how I feel. I haven't drank nearly enough to forget this night, so untwist your panties, please." She sighs softly. "I might regret telling you, sure-- but only because you like to pretend, you don't want me too. And I'm staring to believe you."
" why not — don't do well with being confronted ? " similar to how she doesn't take kindly to being blindsided by her hookup showing up at her family home alongside her fucking brother . wets her bottom lip , an odd sensation rumbling in her chest when the other's gaze falters to slim limbs sewn tightly together . " how thoughtful of you . " deadpans , clearly not buying it as she watches her closely .. like she's an insect beneath a microscope , being dissected . " i had fun , i would've been down for it to be a regular thing . i thought that was feeling was mutual — but you left without a trace . no number , nothing . so , yeah , color me shocked to see that you've been screwing my brother . " her tone has a little more bite in it than it should , but she can't hide it . it pisses her off . thought they hit it off , assumed they'd have a round two , and three , and four . now , she doesn't know whether she wants to wring her brother's neck or drag her into the nearest room to show her who she should actually be here with . " you like him ? "
"No actually, i'm notoriously quite bad at it. unless i've been drinking, then i'm excellent." she smirks at the other, knows she shouldn't be teasing her-- when lakshmi is the one who snuck out in the morning. "i had fun too. a lot of fun, actually. the feeling was...mutual." she clears her throat and shifts on her feet. "...i did leave my number though. it was on a heart shaped post it on your fridge--" her brow wrinkles for a second. "i mean-- it doesn't matter now but it's there. i should have probably put it somewhere more obvious." she hums in contemplation-- "oh i'm not screwing him. he's tried-- he's very eager but uh, no such luck. for him anyway." she doesn't know how to answer the other's question, not when she's staring at their legs, and trying not to remember what it felt like between them. "...it's a second date. i like him well enough but we've had two kisses, both very respectful and sweet... i just... i don't know. " she shrugs. "i don't know if that makes any real sense."
“forever? you know how i feel about sand.” before he can stop himself, he’s grinning like an idiot. the joint sits perfectly rolled between his lips as he fishes a lighter out of his swim trunks with his free hand, silently hoping the quick run into the water didn’t ruin it. his other arm stays draped around andie’s shoulders, easy and familiar. usually, he’s not this well behaved. especially not next to a girl as pretty as she is, both of them dressed in next to nothing. but the usual dirty thoughts don’t come rushing in. instead, he lets himself admire her quietly, just long enough before making a point to keep his eyes on her face. on how big and soft her eyes are. “sadly, this isn’t one of your dirty girl dreams where we get to defy the laws of science,” he teases. he flicks the lighter once. twice. on the third try, a flame finally sparks to life, and he mumbles a quick thanks to whatever god is listening. “those piña coladas are a little dangerous,” he adds, glancing over at her. “how much rum did you pour in there?”
"it's not that bad--" she laughs softly, her shoulders shaking. everything is warm, and soft--and good. she turns her head slightly, mostly so she can get a better look at him, and watches the smoke from his joint dissipate in the air. "dirty girl dreams--" she feels her cheeks flood with colour and heat-- "i don't know if they're gendered so specifically, especially since you have some of your own dirty girl dreams--" she tickles him, just a quick drag of her fingers across the bare skin of his waist, before settling in against him. she shifts, wraps her arm around his waist and tucks her head in his shoulder. "enough. i measured with my heart not my liver." she can feel them working on her, inhibitions are down-- but she's not fully inebriated. "will you shotgun me? im a terrible smoker but-- might be a better way to try--"
sense of amusement dances on features at her words, smirks widens, “ hey, we're playing this game by my rules, not yours. ” thumb traces her bottom lip, gaze dropping to the brims. “ let's try this again, shall we. ”
"i don't remember agreeing to that. in fact-- i suspect i may need convincing." the smile on her lips says other wise, her eyes are softer still at his touch. her hands slide into his hair, brush it off his face. "i'm not your girl until you ask. so ask." her smile turns momentarily wicked. "there-- better?"
i need everyone out my damn villa (love island usa). trinity can stay. bryce is on thin ice. everyone else can GO
love island uk though? im loving the chaos!! princess jasmine!!! ellie!! love island is only good when the girls gang up tbh, and when they run the villa!
"No, no, it's totally fine--------- I can shop with you," he insisted with a gentle wave of his hand, "I get it, shopping is basically therapy for you guys." His mind idly drifted to the realization that men were equally susceptible to the allure of material distraction, even if their version of emotional solace manifested not in the acquisition of Chanel accessories or elegant Yves Saint Laurent garments, but rather in the immediate, extravagant purchase of top-tier video gaming setups, rare sneakers, or even high-performance vehicles whenever they required a particularly ostentatious flex to rebalance their internal compass on a difficult day. Simon remembered with sudden clarity the last time his father had provoked him so intensely that he had stormed directly into the local Porsche dealership and bought a brand new, custom-tuned 911 GT3 RS on the spot, entirely motivated by the desperate need to drag race the machine down an empty stretch of highway simply to purge his mounting frustrations and regain control over his swirling emotions. He was far from operating on his sister's perpetual level of consumerism, but he was certainly capable of entirely letting loose when the pressure became too great... and he suspected that Tweety, with her sharp intuition, had likely already detected that there was something complex lurking behind his exceptionally friendly exterior, proving that while his warmth was entirely genuine, he still possessed a reservoir of turbulent, difficult feelings that he was constantly forced to wrestle with in his private moments. However, despite the sobering reality of finally discovering the horrific truth behind her disappearance from his life, he found himself marveling at how this afternoon was somehow transforming into a near-perfect memory, leaving him in a state of dreamlike disorientation by the time they crossed the threshold of the ultra-exclusive Bergdorf Goodman store on Fifth Avenue, where the city outside faded into a murmur while she began to float amongst the racks in search of a fresh ensemble for their impromptu tour of the city. He truly, deeply could not comprehend the miraculous reality of her presence beside him, half-blaming the consecutive whiskies he had consumed for the way his gaze helplessly tracked her physique as she eventually glided toward the velvet-curtained fitting rooms, his eyes privately admiring the elegance with which her high heels accentuated the curve of her calves, lending her movements a strikingly feminine and compelling grace. While a dedicated personal stylist stepped forward to assist her with the garments, another attentive associate immediately materialized with a glass of chilled, crystal-clear water for him, prompting Simon to sink his large frame into one of the exceptionally plush mohair armchairs scattered throughout the salon, allowing himself to fully relax within the familiar, hushed luxury of the high-end establishment. When the staff politely inquired if he might be interested in exploring the new seasonal arrivals for gentlemen, he offered a soft, appreciative refusal, completely disinclined toward updating his own wardrobe at the moment, but he seamlessly extended his unblemished American Express Black Card to the concierge to settle the balance for Tweety's selections without a single word. The cautious thought did cross his mind that such a grand gesture might be interpreted as somewhat forward or unusual since they were technically just reestablishing a childhood friendship, causing his hand to pause for a moment before the plastic changed hands entirely, but the hesitation disappeared instantly beneath the absolute certainty that this was something he deeply desired to do for her, his anticipation building as he waited to see exactly what style she would choose to drape over her frame.
To his subtle surprise, however, she reemerged clad in garments of an entirely comfortable and relaxed nature, a choice that effectively pacified any stray, complicated curiosities that might have tried to trudge upward from the more unexamined corners of his subconscious mind-------- those private, guarded spaces that he steadfastly refused to acknowledge as he idly sipped his ice water and offered her an enthusiastic thumbs-up from his chair. He was more than happy to oblige her preference for casual attire, especially since the beautifully tailored fabrics still managed to hug her silhouette with a natural, complementary fit that made him silently reflect on how she really ought to consider reviving her old interest in the modeling industry, holding the firm belief that a fashion house like Dior would absolutely leap at the chance to feature her in a global campaign. He found himself momentarily bewildered by the uncharacteristic influx of secret admiration regarding her physical beauty, knowing himself to be far too grounded to indulge in shallow superficiality, but more than anything, a sudden pang of conscience reminded him that viewing Tweety in any sort of suggestive light felt entirely inappropriate, particularly on the heels of the devastating vulnerabilities she had just shared with him regarding her past. There was absolutely nothing tarnished about her character because of the reprehensible actions of a predatory older instructor, but Simon was fiercely determined never to resemble those entitled boys from his university days who viewed girls as objects that owed them some form of transactional compliance; Zahira did not owe him a single damn thing, and he was so profoundly overjoyed to have her back in his life that he refused to jeopardize their fragile, newfound peace with an uncalculated look or word, knowing he would never forgive himself if he drove her away a second time.
Once she had completed her transformations and he had smoothly taken possession of the shopping bags containing the clothes she had worn into the boutique, he informed her that he had already coordinated with his private driver to ensure their transport was idling nearby, giving them total freedom to chart a course toward any neighborhood in Manhattan that struck their fancy. They elected to plunge directly into the heart of Midtown, initiating a leisurely stroll that swiftly exposed them to the vibrant, hyper-accelerated rhythm of the New York grid, where the roaring of yellow taxis, rushing crowds, and towering skyscrapers provided a thrilling backdrop to their easy, comfortable banter. A refreshing detour through the winding pathways of Central Park with a pair of fresh fruit smoothies smoothly transitioned into an hour of casual browsing within a magnificent, glass-domed gallery nearby, a journey that eventually escalated into a series of lively stops at various intimate cocktail lounges along their route until, a few hours later, Simon found himself thoroughly and beautifully buzzed. The alcohol took away his usual reserve, causing him to chatter with a delightfully goofy, unfiltered enthusiasm as he boldly draped his long arm over Tweety's shoulder, playfully pulling her close to compress her against his side simply because the contact felt wonderfully warm and he found himself craving her absolute, undivided attention. Suddenly, he ground to a halt with a dramatic gasp as his gaze locked onto the neon-lit storefront of a hidden multi-level comic book shop tucked between two towering brick buildings, his finger instantly snapping outward to indicate the destination as he exclaimed, "Look, right there. We have to go in." With their next coordinates decisively chosen, they stepped into the nostalgically scented interior, Simon granting her shoulder one final, enthusiastic little squeeze before sprinting forward like an absolute maniac through the narrow aisles, his eyes scanning the colorful walls as he systematically inspected the rare action figures before diving headfirst into the meticulously organized stacks of vintage comic books. He carefully extracted a rare Batman issue that had somehow eluded his extensive personal collection, his jaw dropping as he spun around on his heel to display the prize to Tweety with wide, boyish eyes, asking, "Look at this! It's the limited edition one. Do you know how awesome this is?" He was absolutely going to purchase it, and the sheer joy of the moment made him feel as though he could do a backflip right there on the linoleum floor before scooping Tweety up into a triumphant embrace; in fact, the idea struck his elevated senses as a completely brilliant plan, prompting him to temporarily set the comic aside so he could gently place his broad hands around the small of her slender waist and lift her entirely off her feet into the space above him, looking up at her face with a radiant expression. "This is seriously the best day ever," he declared, the words escaping his lips with an unfiltered honesty that shook with the sincerest affection he possessed. He slowly lowered her back down until her soles met the floor, yet his hands lingered upon her waist as he found himself trapped within the deep, beautiful expression of her eyes, his focus drifting helplessly toward her lips as he wondered with a flush of heat if they had always been quite so full and utterly mesmerizing. He stared a moment longer, his grip tightening imperceptibly against her side as the rest of the world blurred away around them, until a dry, impatient voice shattered the spell from the adjacent aisle.
"Hey, buddy, you're completely blocking the entire graphic novel shelf," a fellow patron interrupted, shifting his stack of books with an annoyed sigh.
"Oh, sorry about that," Simon chuckled warmly, his cheeks instantly flushing a bright red as he scrambled backward to clear the area, quickly reclaiming the limited edition Batman comic with a self-conscious grin as he guided Tweety toward the safety of the checkout counter. "What're you getting?"
“It is therapy. And possibly an addiction. Maybe both.” She contemplates with a smirk. “Candy’s put you through the wringer, you’re a shopping vet even if you weren’t choosing for your self.” He doesn’t actually seem to mind the way she quickly gets lost in Bergdorfs and she leaves him to his devices, determined to find something a little more appropriate for wandering through the city. A quick fashion show later, she decides on a pair of relaxed, flared Loewe jeans that sit low on her hips and a Prada tank top she ties up in the back, cropping it slightly. She’d deny it under oath, but her feet breathe a sigh of relief when she trades her heels for some mesh ballet flats. She finishes her impromptu shop and goes to pay, only to find that Simon already took care of it. “Sweet of you to treat me— You didn’t have to.” She’d shopped with her usual disregard for price tag or label, and she knew the total for her outfit was something close to $5000 and whilst money was no object, she rarely spent other people’s money with the same level of disregard, if she wasn’t dating them. She flashes him a grateful smile, and gives him a quick side hug— before they’re off on their afternoon’s adventure. The afternoon is both a new thing and a portal into a past she’d always kept slightly out of sight. He’s both himself, as he is now— towering over her, broad shouldered and tall as well as her version of him, his eyes are kind beacons of blue in the middle of the shopping aisle, and it’s a strange kind of time travel, to the past and back again. The longer they wander around the city the more the different versions collide, sending up sparks of recognition and revelation.
Tweety is a notorious light weight and she loses track of the number of drinks she downs as they frolic through cocktail bars and galleries. Simon lets her linger in front of paintings for too long, doesn’t complain when she tears up just staring at one and doesn’t ask her to explain herself. The more they drink the less she remembers to maintain her usual composure, trading her ramrod posture for an easy slump into his side. She catches whiffs of his cologne but she doesn’t mind it, likes how warm he is, that he intentionally slows down to match her pace. She’s overly aware of how tall he is now, at 5 foot 3 she’s diminutive compared to him, but it’s a size difference she finds herself liking, more than she wants to admit. They’re reconnecting, and they still…fit. But there’s a difference here that she’s unwilling to examine.
He lights up in the comic book store, and she does too. No one she hangs out with now would know what to do with the sight of her attempting to carry 5 editions of the apothecary diaries in her hands (and failing—eventually she resigned herself to creating a very big stack at the register). “Ooh— you should let me get it for you as a thank you for the day—“ She doesn’t expect the lift, but she welcomes it anyway, and she squeals when he lifts her off the ground. She’s still giggling, still floating when he sets her down. Her smile is wide an open, her eyes are too. There is an easy joy in her expression—an unending warmth. But then his eyes shift slightly, to her lips, and the thoughts she’d tried to bury earlier come roaring back to life. She glances at his mouth for a half second, and then meets his gaze again. Something dangerous flickers to life in her gut. Neither of them move away. At least not until a grumpy customer intrudes on the moment, popping the strange bubble they’d been cocooned in.
She’s still slightly dazed when they reach the counter, and it takes a second for her to answer. “Oh uh— all of these. And your batman comic— obviously.” She hands the pile of manga to the cashier along with his limited edition comic and pays for the lot with a swipe. She’s quick about it— mostly because she’s certain that given the chance Simon would complain and attempt to pay for it himself. She places the book, now safely wrapped in a protective seal and ensconced in a bag in his hand. “I just wanted you to have a reminder of this day, okay— of me being here. So here. And you were right earlier— this is the best day ever... and I kind of don't want it to end.”
growing closer. prompts for characters getting to know each other.
“i don't think you realize how much people notice you.”
“you don't seem particularly trusting. then again, maybe neither am i.”
“you have a habit of appearing at interesting moments.”
“you strike me as someone who trusts their gut. am i wrong?”
“i've noticed you always leave before everyone else.”
“i think you enjoy keeping people guessing.”
“you seem restless.”
“it's strange how you can be surrounded by people and still feel alone.”
“have i ever told you that you're difficult to read?”
“you look like you haven't slept.”
“you know this place well enough that i'm starting to wonder if you've always lived here.”
“do you ever worry about the kind of person you're becoming?”
“i've known a lot of people. none of them were quite like you.”
“i can't decide whether people truly change, or if they just become better at hiding parts of themselves.”
“i had the strangest dream last night. do you remember yours when you wake up?”
“the more i get to know you, the more i keep noticing little similarities between the two of us.”
“i didn't realize you'd remember that.”
“most people seem uncomfortable with silence. i never minded it much.”
“you seem to know more than you're saying.”
“you seem comfortable on your own. i wonder if that's the same thing as never feeling lonely.”
“do you always look this serious?”
“you're easier to talk to than i expected.”
“i've always thought trust is harder to earn than people pretend.”
“you always seem to be watching.”
“i think you've been avoiding me.”
“you're not at all what i thought you would be.”
“whenever i ignore my instincts, i end up regretting it. what about you?”
“i wasn't expecting to run into you again.”
“i can't tell if you're someone who enjoys solitude or just tolerates it.”
“i know it sounds childish, but i can't help believing some people are meant to find one another.”
“you make a terrible liar.”
“you don't strike me as the sort of person people forget.”
“i think people underestimate you.”
“i can't decide whether you're charming or frustrating.”
“i don't think i've seen you smile before.”
“i wasn't sure you'd come.”
“it's a little strange. i think i've started looking forward to seeing you.”
“sometimes i wonder if we ever really know anyone.”
“you're surprisingly good company.”
“i think most people would like to believe they're good. i'm not sure it's always that simple.”
“i think being truly understood is a far rarer thing than people realize.”
“i don't usually tell people this...”
“you make that look easy.”
We was never gonna be free. We’ve been running around everywhere looking for freedom. You know damn well you was never gonna find it. Until this. This is the way. Together. Forever. And I ain’t doing this shit without you. There is no me without you. THE SMOKESTACK TWINS in SINNERS (2025) dir. Ryan Coogler
BARCELONA-CATALUNYA GP 2026 | Lewis First Ferrari Win
[ → 🐤 ] : i need you to trust me on this one [ → 🐤 ] : if i could explain in a text i would have already [ → 🐤 ] : just know that if i'm asking you to leave your apartment at midnight on a saturday, it's for a damn good reason [ → 🐤 ] : and that reason is keeping you safe [ → 🐤 ] : so put on whatever shoes satisfy your pride and allow you to move quickly [ → 🐤 ] : i'll even let you win the next three arguments if you don't argue with me on this
[ → 🦇 ] : ....you are so annoying. [ → 🦇 ]: is my phone being tapped by the fbi? cia? rabid kpop fans? [ → 🦇 ]: fine. fine. you're so annoying. fine. [ → 🦇 ]: am i coming to you, oh great and wonderful oz? [ → 🦇 ]: ...i'm wearing my bunny bedroom slippers. [ → 🦇 ]: can you at least pretend to put up a fight please? its not as fun if you're not irritated when you concede [ → 🦇 ]: share the car license, driver's photo (unless its someone i already know)
open to: m/nb plot: anything!
"you should feel how i feel when somebody says your name--" she hiccups, a small real smile on her lips, another confession on the tip of her wine soaked tongue. "nobody's wanted somebody more."
HERCULES (1997)
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