#Which is. Wild to think about right now. huh!!
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
confessionsandcreampies · 22 hours ago
Text
Tumblr media
you should’ve known better than to flirt with someone else at the party. especially with megumi watching.
he’d been quiet all night which wasn’t unusual. but this was different. the silence clung to him like static, dark and electric. he sat across the room on the old couch, a glass in his hand, shoulders broad and still, legs spread wide in that casual, intimidating sprawl. he said something to yuji, enough to make the other boy laugh, but his eyes never left you. you felt the weight of them. watched the way they followed you through the crowd, narrowed with something heavy and simmering. something feral.
so when that random guy leaned in a little too close, when his hand slid to your waist and lingered like he had any right to touch you, you already knew. you felt the shift. the burn in your skin. the heat of being claimed without a single word. you tried to ignore it. you slipped away, excusing yourself from the sweaty thrum of music and laughter, up the stairs to a dim hallway to catch your breath. and then the door slammed shut behind you.
your whole body jolted at the sound, but before you could even turn around, rough hands were already on your hips to shove you forward until your palms hit the wall.
“hands on the fucking wall,” he growled, breath hot and sharp against your neck. “now.”
“megumi—”
“you wanted attention, right?” his hand flattened against your back, forcing your spine into a soft curve. “you wore that little dress and giggled at that guy’s dumb fucking jokes because you wanted this.”
his cock was already hard. thick and burning hot through his sweatpants, grinding against the swell of your ass with dangerous precision. he wasn’t teasing. he was throbbing for it.
“i didn’t—”
“save it.” one hand fisted in your dress, dragging the hem up over your hips while the other yanked your panties down with a vicious tug that made you stumble. “you know what happens when you act like that in front of me.”
you whimpered.
the tension in his voice and the weight of his hands was obsession. this wasn’t about punishment. it wasn’t even about jealousy. this was about ownership. he needed to fuck the memory of that guy out of your body. he needed to make you his again.
“meg-megumi—ah—fuck—” you gasped when he pushed inside, the blunt head of his cock parting your soaked folds and sliding in deep until he was buried to the hilt.
he didn’t move. he stayed there, his fat cock stretching you full, twitching inside you, breathing uneven. one hand squeezed your hip tight enough to bruise. the other slid up beneath your shirt, fingers dragging over your stomach before palming one of your tits, heavy and flushed against his calloused skin.
“y’know,” he muttered, ragged and quiet against your ear, “you’d look so fucking good knocked up.” you choked half on air, half on the sheer heat of the image. “bellied out with my kid. walkin’ around all slow and swollen. that tight little pussy still leaking from the last time i fucked you full.”
he pulled out halfway, enough for the stretch to ache and then slammed back in. the picture frames on the wall rattled. you cried out. hands scrambling for balance, nails digging into the drywall as he set a brutal rhythm. deep, punishing thrusts that knocked the breath from your lungs and replaced it with needy, helpless moans.
“you like that, huh?” he whispered, teeth sinking into your shoulder as your body jolted with each thrust. “you want it?”
“n-no—”
“liar.” he laughed, but it was breathless and wild.
he fucked you harder, faster with no space to breathe or beg. he knew your body too well. knew exactly how to angle his hips, how to grind against that spot inside you that made your knees buckle and your voice break.
“you’re made for this,” he groaned. “tight little hole just beggin’ to be filled. you think i don’t notice the way you walk around me? always showin’ off. always actin’ like you don’t want me to take you.”
his rhythm faltered before he pulled out, cock wet and glistening, and slapped the head against your clit with a mean little flick. you twitched and whimpered. nearly collapsed at the sheer teasing and cruelty.
“what’s that, baby? need it back in?”
“please—”
“beg.”
you swallowed hard. your face burned. but your voice cracked open. “megumi, please—i need you to fuck me. fill me. i’ll be good! i swear, i’ll be your good girl, just please—”
that broke him. he rammed back in with a guttural moan, hands snapping back to your waist, gripping like a vice as he pounded into you. every thrust hit so deep your breath caught in your throat. his cock was pulsing, stretching you open, slamming into you like he was trying to reshape your insides.
“you will be good,” he snarled. “gonna take it all like a good little breeding bitch, yeah?”
you were babbling now. slurring broken syllables and moaning into the wall as he fucked you like a man possessed. and then his mouth was back at your ear, whispering wicked things.
“i’m gonna fuck a baby into you and keep you like that all year long.” you clenched so hard around him he let out a snarl. “that’s it,” he growled. “fucking take it.”
he buried himself to the hilt one last time, ground his hips and came deep. and so much, filling you with hot seed. you felt every thick spurt fill you. the warmth blooming inside, leaking out before he’d even pulled back.
he stayed there, chest heaving, lips brushing the sweat-slick curve of your neck, “good girl. now don’t move. i wanna watch it drip down those thighs.”
280 notes · View notes
solar-nightengale · 6 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
@lizardthelizard Woopsie seems I dropped this here ahah my bad 😇😇💖💖
4 notes · View notes
bmpmp3 · 8 months ago
Text
post ankle-twisting clarity
#i slipped in the mudddddd the other day LOL i twisted my one ankle and scraped up my other knee#so the past few days ive just been kind of needing to waddle around.....#LUCKILY its healing well and fast <3 but yknow i was like#so stressed out over shit that doesnt matter in school. and like this is an awful unintentional habit i have but i will get like#overly stressed over shit and then i'll start getting SUPER careless with everything. and then i'll injure myself foolishly and Calm Down#happened last year with my foolish midnight woodcarving incident LOL its always november....#BUT yeah luckily this years foolish injury is a quick one at least!!#but yeah like genuinely i was so stressed out about all my fine arts major shit. teachers have been really getting on my case recently#my main professor said that it was a good thing people get so riled up with my work because it means its impactful#tbh i didnt believe her at all i thought she was just trying to placate me but then i listened closely to the things faculty say when#they look at my fucking. cartoon wolf drawing or something and i think. she might be right actually. people keep getting frustrated with me#because i think they see a lot of potential in me but i basically only have to drive to draw cartoon wolves etc HFKJSDHJVKRFEds#which is great for my ego. maybe too good for my ego. that my mark making and colour use etc is so evocative to these industry and#instutition people. but on the other hand i was told like thrice now that my work has no place in a gallery. which is fine although im not#totally sure how true that is. but also afterwards one time i was suggested to go into animation instead which is. um.#so its not out of nowhere i mean i did want to be an animator when i was like 10 but if you know anything about the current state of the#animation industry its like genuinely wild to tell someone who you've only seen 2 dimensional watercolour and acrylic painted#sketchy lined drawings from and who has said they cant do digital art anymore that they should get an animation degree?#brother they would kill me. i would be killed. i had an inkling but it really made me notice so clearly how limited the experiences my#faculty kind of have with certain industries. which is fine. or maybe not. for a professor LOL but yknow. but i was like huh. i guess i can#just kind of chill lol if i just keep doing things maybe something will come of it. i may not get as much help in my artistic development#rn as i would like. but its chill i think i'll figure it out if i just keep doing stuff <3#doesnt really matter that my teachers dont know what to do with me. my kneeeee has a booboo so i am CHILLING out :)
7 notes · View notes
unproduciblesmackdown · 6 months ago
Text
maybe i already expressed specifically this amidst a thicket of tags but speaking of the Unexpected & Dynamic all throughout bsol's finale of a [hey all the characters are in the same place] beautiful stretch of vivacity, it's great that like. i mean one figures you're not gonna get [villain immediately kills hero] & you're right b/c that would be a surprise & slightly humorously so but too unrewarding in all other ways to be worth it as the end of a whole entire story & arcs here....but then the ways that banana has this like totally Self Imposed arc about wanting to be able to do whatever it takes to help the musician in return / in general, self imposed b/c the musician himself is like no you're good you're perfect my special little guy i will die without, & we're not exactly subject to any other characters' input like um btw banana you & your Failure to be as heroically bold & brave as to do whatever it takes, as the musician does, except when he feels he can't at some points including if he doesn't have banana with him on this journey, but not b/c he asks anything more of him but to be there with him on this journey....
that is to say, i say as i go "wait what was the specific thing i was gonna talk about in this specific post," that like it's a surprise banana might die of his own self imposed doing whatever it takes, but one of the Least surprising surprises perhaps, like ah yes the funny little guy devoted sidekick? what else would such a guy be For, even if the musician doesn't feel that way, see also: me taking 990 words to say it's fun how at the beginning we could think banana is misguided about the musician encouraging him with his heart words not his mouth words to dance, but then we would be proven wrong when the musician is like cough argh augh i Need banana & i will be encouraging him to dance with my heart And mouth words....but so that yeah even as it may be like Nooo & have stakes & suspense it could still be like ah well yeah that'd be what banana is for, alas, & That is the surprising & not "this was a total success for our heroes" downside to this finale. but it isn't, & banana getting miraculously saved himself as he nonmiraculously protects the musician b/c he wanted to do that himself too
just bringing all that back up to say i was thinking again about like "you wouldn't expect a private little moment following banana but you get one" and "and it's so earnest all throughout & with the more wrenching shift amidst the still perfectly [funny little guy] material & it Does make me cry" and then i was like :( and if he Had died i would have to cry about that too like nooo not banana for would-be dispensibility of the funny little devoted sidekick guy after it was like nooo banana :( (also held hostage in the evil marriage normativity larping but again also all the more "successfully" so b/c his guntoting spouse doesn't actually care about the mutual genuine affection you're also Supposed to have with this) & nooo banana :( (singing his beautiful sweet earnest prayer in this relatively brief song bookended with relative levity (relalelalevity) but still earnest b/c it's all earnest b/c where do you think we are) like yeah basically like i weep at that little moment with him Expressing the depth of his feeling about wanting to do this for the musician despite the musician being like huh wha of course i don't ask that it's nbd, if it paired with "& he does Resolve this by dying about it later" like noooooooooo. tambourine miracles (again thinking of a real tambourine with a disclaimer waiving liability for acts of god associated with? channeled through? that tambourine. sure)
wrapping up a post even less sure if i said anything novel or clearly enough what i wanted to say b/c i went on a journey like maybe it's about something else now, but i don't think so, i think it was just me like wah if banana died i'd be all the more like Oof Augh about his little solo packing its punch of perfect earnest real depth of feeling b/c Everyone's presumed to have that, and they do, and it shows, funny little nonprotagonists or no(s)
#and the lesson i take is to care even Less if i particularly feel some wandering text post in which i repeat myself Has A Point(tm)#bsol#also. now hang on lol#was gonna be like ''also banana saying Mouth Words reminds me of nato in black suits talking about that thing you do with your mouth to#brandon (i.e. beatboxing) it's like the coolest thing you do'' recalling plausibly coincidentally both lance rubin roles#who around here has a proclivity to phrase things like. mentally handbrake u-turned like wait when did that movie come out....#okay speaking of probably overly elaborate joke theories going on; now: elaborate theory jokes#well it's not elaborate but in joe's interesting (not uh. like a bad ''interesting'') commentary on mitb in that one video being impetus#to be like let me also listen to the unexpected solo moment with the funny little second Banana singing his heart out about the lead ;m; Wa#i made myself laugh like imagine bsol having enough fans like the ah the bananusician angle#but not as much as i laughed at the immediate thought that my going ''would coconana go off?'' then forever Hell Yeah would be niche#like Relatively niche in an au where 5k Outlaws Online knew what i was talking about right now. the rarepair as it were#don't think it would be That difficult to land on just by virtue of the small cast but#meanwhile scales hand like violetta/giraffe also kind of canon like to the extent the musician/banana kind of is but also not quite thusly#wild card of all the Doubled Roles. would ppl see The Narrator as a character who Could interact w/the other roles even#(such as also: a potential interpretation being that the narrator is also the maker upper of the whole story)#anyway now This is an unnecessary tangent when it doesn't humor me That much. just laughed hard enough for a moment#imagining like being thrown into the Happens To Be Oh So Niche dynamic life in a Context where the whole experience isn't So Niche#which i'm all for ppl having a high time w w/e incl certainly what i have a high time w/but i'm meant to be soliloquizing incoherently here#if anyone happens to be like my god what visions of engaging genius then that's fun i suppose but huh wha? / scroll past#it's the fine art of just saying some shit for the sake of getting a kick out of it & that if ppl want to read it they Can. if not then not#a removal of that buffer like lord i have to try to explain xyz Successfully? i have to try to make it When it's engaging not If?? rip
2 notes · View notes
moonlight-presence · 3 months ago
Text
Pale, Pale Moon
Tumblr media
Remmick X Female Reader
Summary: On a lonely, moonlit road, you walk toward town—aching, afraid, and utterly alone. But the night has other plans. From the shadows, Remmick appears, his voice honey-smooth and eyes glowing with something not quite human. He seems kind, even charming, until his gaze lingers too long on you, and his smile stretches a bit too wide. What begins as a quiet walk becomes a haunting transformation. With whispered promises and otherworldly hunger, Remmick sinks his fangs into your neck, not to harm, but to rebirth. Then... you take him under that pale, pale moon.
4,245 words
Notes:
🌙 chomh teann = so tight
🌙 Aon duine = nothing
🌙 foc = fuck
!SMUT CONTENT!
You should’ve known better than to trust a word of a man—no matter his sweet talking or his kind goddamn eyes when he offered you a ride home. You were so fucking naive, thinking he had no other intentions besides helping you get back to your folks who, by now, must be worried sick. You try not to think too much about that, focusing instead on the faint lights at the end of the road that lead into town. The moon, thankfully, was bright and full in the sky, judging by its size, giving you an additional source of light as you walked alone by the side of the road. 
 You looked down at your wrists and saw that the man’s fingers were bruised on your skin, reminding you of how you had kicked him in the crotch and opened the door of his car to sprint away from him. Thank God nothing more happened… and thank God he didn’t come chasing after you. You weren’t sure how far away you could’ve run until he eventually caught up to you. A shiver ran down your spine, and you adjusted your shawl. 
 You had been walking for a good twenty minutes now, and judging by how close the town was, you still had a good thirty minutes to go. 
 “You stupid idiot,” you murmured to yourself. 
 Then, amid your anger and frustration, you heard rattling, like a wild animal moving through the woods, from your right. You stopped dead in your tracks, slowly looking at the forest beside you and, obviously, seeing nothing but trees and the wind passing through them. 
 “Now, now, don’t be imagining things. Just get your ass back home and forget this ever happened,” you told yourself out loud, somehow needing to hear a voice amid the silence. 
 You continued walking, holding your shawl tighter around your body as the night grew a bit colder for the time of the year. Your thoughts wandered back to your parents and how worried they must be. They were quite old now, giving away their age in you, who was not as young as you had been. But those days of adolescence were gone, giving way to the responsibilities that came with adulthood. Time could be such a bitch sometimes.
 You were supposed to be married by now. That was the proper way of things, as folks often said around town… But you still hadn’t found a single man worth your time, and you, for sure, didn’t wanna marry just for the sake of it. So, alone in your youth, which often left a sting of pain in your chest, you continued with your walk. 
 More time passed, a couple of minutes at most, until you heard another noise that made the hairs on your body stand up. Something was definitely out there in those woods… and you hoped it would remain there. 
 You were now a bit scared, fingers shaking around your shawl, as your feet ached from the uncomfortable shoes your mother had made for you. Perhaps it was your exhaustion talking, too. You didn’t know at this point. 
 “Get a hold of yourself… Come on now,” you whispered, fastening your pace. 
 You tried to control your breathing until you figured out you couldn’t. So, instead of drowning in that sweet old fear, you did the one thing you knew calmed your nerves. 
 You sang.
Oh, pale moon rising over the pines, come
Lawd away until the sun does rise
Leave the day by the, by the door, I don't
Care if sun don't shine once more, that's what I said
Ooh, ooh
Oh, oh, oh
Huh
Mm-hm, mm-hm
You finished your humming softly, letting a breeze of wind brush through your face almost like a human hand caressing your skin. You have always hated nighttime, especially when you had barely any light around you and were all alone. 
 God knows what demons or creatures wandered those woods… 
 The rest of the song found you then, easing your nerves like a cup of warm milk with a teaspoon of honey. 
 This time, you sang a little louder, feeling bolder in the silence, and giving a proper performance to the night creatures. 
I'm gonna spend my money on somethin' sweet and strong
Gonna move my body through the whole night long
Gonna sweat the way I been longin' to, nobody gonna
Tell me nothin', that's what I'm gonna do, that's what I said
Woo
That's what I said
Mm-hm, mm-hm
Mm-hm, mm-hm
Mm-hm, mm-hm
Oh, oh, oh
A slight smile spread on your face as you walked in rhythm with the song, moving your body sideways and creating a dance with each step. Suddenly, the night felt less cold, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous you must look. No bother, there wasn’t anybody for miles to witness this. You were free to sing and dance as you pleased, not scared of being quieted by anybody. 
I wanna sing
Like I hear the crickets do
I wanna hoo, yeah
Like the owls do 
I wanna howl
To the moon 
Scream
You raised your voice at the last note, letting it linger for far too long. It felt sweet on your tongue, so you savored it as you looked up at the moon and smiled. It was pretty, you noticed, and you would have marvelled at it for longer if you didn’t hear footsteps… behind you. 
 The first thing you did was stop your walk, freezing in place until you were sure that those were, in fact, human footsteps. And they were, there was no mistaking the sound of shoes by an animal’s paws. 
 You swallowed dryly, dread filling your chest as you remembered so well what had almost happened to you that night. You had to run. If you did, you could maybe make it into town or just come close to any people. 
 You had to try, goddamnit, you had to. 
 Instead, the person behind you spoke, a few steps away from your back, and a cold shiver ran down your spine. 
 “Hey there. Beautiful night, isn’t it?” he said with a voice so sweet that it made your ears resonate with the sound. “I thought I heard some singin’ down the road… You wouldn’t happen to be that sweet voice I heard, would you, darlin’?” 
 You didn’t turn around, fear filling your chest and holding you hostage. 
 “You must have me mistaken, sir,” you replied, making your voice friendly just in case this man had a temper. 
 “Is that so?” he said, and you heard him walk around you. He appeared in front of you, and you raised your eyes to meet his for the first time. When you did, you almost swore for a second that they were red… But no, they were blue. 
 “Yes, sir,” you confirmed, tightening your shawl around your body. He tilted his head slightly, and you saw his teeth appear underneath his lips as he smiled. “I’m just on my way home. I don’t want any trouble, sir.”
 “Trouble, darlin’?” he asked, confused. “Who said I wanted any trouble? I was making my way to town too, ya know? I just heard your beautiful voice and decided to see who was singin’, nothing more.”
 His accent was like all the other folks you knew, but in some words, it seemed to slip into something else. You didn’t recognise it, but you were sure he wasn’t from around here. No matter how much he tried to seem like he was. 
 “That’s very kind of you, sir, but if you don’t mind…” You went to walk, but he didn’t step aside. Your heart picked up its pace. 
 “What happened to your wrists?” he asked, eyeing your bruises. 
 You immediately hid your wrists under your shawl and straightened your back, trying to act casual. 
 “Nothin’. Just fell.”
 “Is that so?” he said, obviously skeptical. “Alright, if you say so, darlin’...” He grinned at you before adding, “What’s your name? I’m Remmick.” 
 You hesitated but then told him your name. 
 “That’s a beautiful name. Pleasure to meet you.” He raised his hand, clearly wanting to either shake or kiss your hand. 
 You thought about rejecting his request, but the way he looked at you and spoke was too inviting to refuse. He had such a way about himself… And you didn’t quite know why. Maybe it was because he was handsome. 
 So, you gave him your hand, and he held it before lowering his lips to your skin. You thought he was gonna kiss it, but instead he pressed your skin to his mouth, and you felt him sniff the area. You frowned, pulling your hand away, but he held it and finally kissed it, releasing his hold after. 
 “You are too kind, sir, but my folks must be worried sick by now, and I must really get goin’.”
 Remmick smiled and nodded slowly. 
 “I’ll walk with you then.”
 “Sir, that’s really not necessary.”
 “Oh, but I insist. The nights can be so lonely, can’t they?” he said, and there was a hint of a joke under his voice. “We wouldn’t want anythin’ to happen to you, would we, darlin’?”
 “I…” You thought of arguing further, but ended up giving up. “Very well.”
 You two resumed your walk in silence, and you didn’t sing anymore. It didn’t feel right any longer, especially with Remmick walking beside you and looking, from time to time, at you. You tried to tell yourself he meant no harm, but you couldn’t really shake off the feeling that something about him just wasn’t quite right. 
 However, you continued walking until the pain in your right foot turned too intense and you felt blood stain your ankle and shoe. Right about then, you stopped walking. 
 “What’s the matter, darlin?” Remmick asked, looking at your feet. You heard him sniff the air, and then his breath caught in his throat. “You are bleedin’.”
 “It’s nothin’, sir,” you said. “I just need to sit down for a bit.”
 “Let me see the blood,” Remmick said, guiding you towards a broken tree on the side of the road. You followed him and finally sat on the trunk. He kneeled in front of you, eyes fixed on your bloody ankle. “You poor thing. That looks like it must hurt.”
 “It’s fine, really-” But he was already taking off your shoe, making you wince. 
 Blood was dripping down your ankle, and you bit your bottom lip at the pain. 
 “It smells so sweet,” Remmick whispered in awe as he lifted your leg. You felt your cheeks heat up as your skirt got pushed further up.
 “Sir, if you please-”
 “I knew you were different, ya know?” Remmick said, cutting you off as he moved closer to your blood. You tried to release your leg, but his grip was too strong. “I could smell you from miles away, darlin’.” 
 “Let me go,” you said, panic clear in your voice. 
 “Ssshhh,” he said, putting his finger to his lips. He looked up at you then, and you gasped as droll fell from his lips, and his teeth were sharper than before. “It will all be better soon.”
 “What are you?” you asked between shaky breaths. You looked into his red eyes and saw something unnatural in them. Whatever this man was, it couldn’t be human. 
 Remmick grinned. “I’m your savior, darlin’.”
 That was all he said before he jumped at a supernatural speed on top of you, making you fall back to the grass. You screamed in horror as his teeth sank into your neck and pierced the skin. The pain was so unbearable that you screamed until your throat ached and your lungs gave out. 
 Then, your eyes fell shut and you floated into darkness… You were sure you were dying, and you felt yourself drifting away to meet your ancestors. You could almost see them on the horizon, looking at you with inviting hands and warmth. 
 But it was as if there was a wall in your path. One you couldn’t cross. You yelled their names, but it was in vain as they slowly disappeared into dust. 
 Then, you were reborn. 
 Your eyes snapped open, and you breathed blessed air. You gasped and coughed, putting your hand to your neck and feeling dried blood there. You were supposed to be dead… 
 “All better now, isn’t it?” Remmick said. You licked your dry lips, feeling them colder than usual, before looking at Remmick, who was kneeling next to you. His mouth was dripping with your blood. “It’s okay, darlin’. I’m here.”
 His red eyes left you in a trance, making you giggle and reach for his hands. He held you to a sitting position, and you stretched your arms and cracked your neck. A smile stayed on your mouth. 
 You felt euphoric, like life didn’t mean anything before. You could feel the coldness of the night and how comforting it was. Every sound was sharper in your ears, and your reflexes seemed to be better, too. You felt unstoppable and… you remembered. Your life and his. 
 You knew who he was now. You felt his pain deep in your chest, like a crushing weight. 
 “Remmick…” you whispered, putting your hand to your chest. “I feel so different. So goddamn good.”
 “Yeah? Can you feel how sweet it is?” he asked, putting one hand over yours. “It’s all better now, isn’t it? Nobody can hurt us now.”
 “Nobody,” you repeated. “Aon duine.”
 Remmick’s grin deepened at your words, and you laughed loudly, pushing yourself towards him. 
 “Kiss me now,” you begged, wanting to feel him closer. “I wanna feel you. I need you, Remmick.”
 “I know… It’s alright. Come here,” he whispered. 
 Your lips met in a fiery kiss, and you groaned as you tasted your blood. Remmick wasn’t lying; it was truly sweet, like a nectar. 
 Your tongues danced with each other until you pulled back with the need for fresh air. Your chest heaved, and fire seemed to be inside your veins as the heat of arousal filled your body like a poison. But it was far from venomous… it was addictive and nonlethal. A combination not made possible until now. 
 “I know how you liked to be licked, darlin’,” Remmick whispered against your lips. “And I know what makes you drip.”
 You couldn’t say anything to his filthy words, so instead, you put your elbows behind you and spread your legs. His eyes were shining in the dark, and you saw them look between your thighs as you pulled your skirts up and revealed your dripping arousal. You weren’t wearing anything down there, only your dress and shawl, which was now long forgotten somewhere in the grass. 
 Remmick licked his bottom lip slowly, chuckling and crawling towards your spread thighs. You smirked at him as he moved and finally reached the middle of your legs. The pulse on your crotch was maddening, and you didn't remember ever feeling this aroused for anybody else. 
 “Look at that… Isn’t that just so perfect?” Remmick said, rubbing his hands from your ankles to your thighs. His skin was calloused but comforting. “Don’t mind if I steal a few kisses, do ya?”
 You brought your right hand to your folds, spreading them and coating your digits with your arousal, before bringing the glistening fingers towards his mouth. He didn’t need to be asked twice as he wrapped his lips around your fingers and swirled his tongue, tasting you. A deep moan left your mouth, and you saw him grab and squeeze his cock through his pants. 
 “Come taste me, baby,” you begged. 
 A string of saliva fell from the corner of his lips as he removed your fingers from his mouth. His white shirt was unbuttoned on the chest, revealing his chest hair and a necklace, and, as you stared at him, he grabbed your thighs with his two hands and pushed you towards him, making your back and head hit the grass. 
 You laughed, grabbing his hair as his head went between your legs. 
 “Oh fuck…” you whispered as he applied kisses around your vulva. He licked and nibbled at the flesh until you were whining for him. 
 Just when he thought you had enough of his teasing, did he wrap his lips on your clit. When he did, you arched your back and pulled his hair roughly, making his fangs grow a bit. You felt his lust in your mind and laughed again, until he licked your folds up and down, and made you moan instead. 
 “Remmick… Just like that… Fuck,” you said, breathless. 
 He groaned against you and moved his tongue on your clit, flickering it and creating a mind shattering rhythm. You looked down at him and saw that he was staring at you as well. Your eyes met and you kept eye contact, loving the way his hair was fisted in your hand and his mouth moved on your cunt. 
 “That’s it, baby,” you encouraged him as waves of pleasure ran through you. You pulled his hair roughly again, which made him grab your thighs harder. 
 Remmick continued with that same pace that was just so right until you felt that tight, familiar feeling on your stomach. It was tightening fast, ready to burst, and you dropped your head back on the grass, moaning loudly his name. 
 “I’m close, baby,” you warned him with a breathless voice. A whine escaped your lips as he sucked on your clit suddenly, making a spike of pleasure run through you. 
 “I… I’m gonna cum,” you managed to say. 
 Remmick moaned against you, and that was all it took before you arched your back and felt arousal pour from your entrance. Your walls pulsed and your clit throbbed against Remmick’s tongue as sweet pleasure made your mind go blank. You pushed your cunt towards his face, almost riding it as he held you down. 
 Just when you began feeling a bit overstimulated did he stopped his movements, pulling away from your clit. 
 “Hm, hm…” he said as he cleaned his mouth with the back of his hand. “You sound so damn pretty when you cum, baby.”
 You were breathing heavily as you looked at the night sky. Your skin was glistening and your cunt still trembled with the aftermath of your orgasm. 
 “I’m gonna need you to fuck me now, baby,” you said between breaths. You looked at him and were pleased to see him unbuckling his pants. 
 “Since you asked so nicely…” he teased you with a grin. He pulled his cock out and you looked at it. It was glistening with pre-cum and as hard as a rock. “How do you wanna get fucked, darlin’?”
 You closed your legs and got to your knees in front of him. Then, as he stroked himself slowly, you turned around and lifted your skirts to your waist, revealing your backside to him. Remmick didn’t say anything but a hand appeared on your ass cheek, grabbing it roughly. 
 “That’s a good girl,” he said in a thick Irish accent. He had dropped his southern accent shortly after you were bitten. 
 You bit your bottom lip, dropping to your elbows as you felt him run the head of his cock on your folds. He teased himself and you for a while, running his cock up and down and making you shiver and clench on nothing. 
  “Give a girl what she needs, would ya? Please, baby,” you said to him with a whiny voice. 
 Remmick chuckled, one hand on your ass and the other on his shaft. 
 “But you look so pretty all needy for me, darlin’,” Remmick said. 
 You bit your bottom lip again, and pushed your ass towards him. Remmick groaned, and you smiled in victory as he lined himself with your entrance. 
 “Now, now… Let me make it all better,” he said before thrusting inside all at once. 
 You gasped as he entered you, your head dropping between your shoulders. Remmick let out a deep groan as he stopped fully inside. 
 “Foc… Chomh teann,” he said, now holding your waist with both hands.
 He began fucking you slowly, pulling himself all the way out just to slam inside. You couldn’t do anything but fist the grass and moan his name as he set a good pace. His cock hit all the right places inside you, somehow. It was as if it was meant to fuck you all your life. 
 “Fuck. You are taking me so goddamn well,” he said with a laugh. You moaned his name again and clenched around him. 
 He grabbed your ass cheeks roughly until you felt his nails pierce your skin. You were sure he had drawn blood from your flesh, but you couldn’t care less as euphoria pumped inside your veins. Everything just felt so good. 
 “Harder,” you said to him. 
 Remmick obeyed, and you arched your back and moaned louder than ever as you felt his balls hit your skin with every thrust. The wet and slapping sounds you were making were like music to your ears, and you felt your fangs grow. You needed some blood after this. And soon. 
 “Take it… Come on, fucking take it,” Remmick moaned, pulling your hair. You hissed at the pain but laughed, feeling him hold your head slightly up. 
 You held your torso up with one arm and brought your other hand to your clit, rubbing it roughly and feeling your walls clenching on his shaft. You were getting close again. 
 “Remmick… Ah… Fuck…” you said, looking to him as he pulled your hair again. His neck and chin were still covered in your blood, and his lips parted as he let out ragged breaths. He had never looked more beautiful. 
 “You gonna cum?” Remmick asked you, bringing your face closer to his. He had more strength than you, so it was as easy as walking for him. “Tell me, baby.”
 “Yeah… I’m real close,” you replied, inches from his fangs. 
 “Then do it. Come on, darlin’, cum around my cock,” he whispered, licking your lips. 
 You grabbed the back of his neck, feeling his sweaty hair and skin, while the other hand rubbed circles on your clit. He gave you a particularly hard thrust that made your breasts jiggle. 
 Remmick must have noticed because soon his hands were on your breasts. He ripped open the dress from your chest like it was a tissue, and you gasped as he grabbed your boobs and squeezed them. 
 “Fuckin’ beautiful tits,” he moaned. 
 It was too much for you with the added stimulation, so your orgasm burst through you at long last. 
 You opened your mouth and let out high-pitched moans against his lips as your eyes fell shut. Remmick fucked you through it, feeling your walls clench and unclench around his shaft as you came. 
 “Fuck… Beautiful,” he whispered, voice strained. 
 He fucked you unevenely until he stilled his hips and hot strings of cum shoot inside you, making you groan. He whispered your name in your ear while he came, making you shiver. 
 Then, he put his lips to your neck and licked the two holes his fangs had left on your skin. It sting a bit but you didn’t paid it any mind as you stopped your fingers on your clit and started calming down. 
 “There we go. Feels good, baby?” he asked you. 
 “Yes… Real fucking good,” you replied, feeling your skin almost burn. 
 He held you for a bit more until you dropped to your hands, and he removed himself from inside of you. When he did, you felt his cum drip down your ass, making you shiver. Remmick saw it too as he collected it with his fingers. 
 “Want a taste, baby?” he asked as you turned around and sat on the floor. Your dress was ruined now, ripped open and covered in blood, sweat, and cum. 
 “Yeah. Let me,” you said, grabbing his wrist and putting his fingers inside your mouth. You tasted his salty cum and moaned, making Remmick smirk. 
 “You really are different, aren’t you, baby?” he said as you pulled back your mouth. 
 “You bet,” you replied, licking your lips.
 Remmick chuckled and put himself back in his pants, buttoning them up again and fixing his blouse. You tried to clean your dress until you saw it was pointless. 
 “That’s no problem, darlin’. There are plenty of dresses in town, I reckon. You may take as many as you want,” he said. 
 You giggled, breathing deeply as you got to your feet. He followed your lead. 
 “So… What’s next?” you asked him as you looked at the empty road. 
 “Well…” Remmick grabbed your waist from behind and put his chin on your shoulder. “I think the people in this town need our savin’, don’t ya think? I can feel how miserable they are, even from here. A goddamn shame, really.”
 You hummed with a grin, looking at the lights on the horizon. 
 “I think you right, Remmick. They need our savin’...And I happen to know just the place to visit first.”
 Remmick hummed and grabbed your hand as you two walked down the road. You could hear the drumming heartbeats of the folks in the town, leading you closer and closer to them. But they could wait… First, your parents needed some saving. 
 Then, everybody else would too.
884 notes · View notes
j3llyc4kes · 11 days ago
Text
you didn’t mean to start anything except just a little teasing before your husband, ryomen sukuna, the king of curses, took off to go obliterate some poor, soon-to-be-charred village tucked into the mountains.
you knew how he got before one of his little rampages. restless, wild-eyed, practically vibrating with bloodlust under his skin. all sharp teeth and dangerous calm, like the calm before the blood shed and destruction.
you liked to think you helped him keep a lid on things. or maybe he just liked using you as the fuse.
either way, when you looked up at him from your place half-draped across the futon, robe loose, showing him just how naked you were underneath and grinning like the brat you are, you just meant it as a cheeky send-off.
“just the tip, kuna,” you hummed, legs parting in a casual spread, baring your wet pussy to him like you weren’t egging on the most destructive being on earth.
“ya know, before you go play god and all.”
he scoffed. “you’ll make me late.”
“they can wait,” you purred, voice syrup-thick.
and maybe if you’d shut your mouth after that, he would’ve. maybe he would’ve slipped in slow, indulged you with a lazy roll of his hips, kissed your temple, and disappeared with a muttered “be good.”
but instead you kept talking, fingers curling around the sash of his kimono with a soft, “you’re not scared you’ll get too into it, right?” like that wasn’t the exact button that flipped a switch in his brain labeled take her apart.
because now, your legs are over his shoulders, your back bowed into the crushed sheets, and “just the tip” is a memory drowned in the slick, messy squelch of his hips snapping into yours.
he’s not saying anything, which is how you know he’s pissed. not angry, no.
sukuna doesn’t get angry when he fucks you like this. he gets petty. like he’s carving his name into the soft, wet, bruised walls of your cunt.
“next time you want to be cute, remember how you were crying for more less than thirty seconds after i put it in.”
you’re half-laughing, half-sobbing into the pillows, one hand pushing weakly at his chest—not to stop him (you’re not suicidal), but to feel the way his heart slams under your palm.
he’s enjoying this. the punishment. the way your body gives and gives, still clinging to the ridiculous fantasy that you can take all of him just because you asked for “the tip.”
your body’s always been a little too honest. it sucks him in like a mouth that forgot how to say no.
he makes a low noise, somewhere between a growl and a snort.
“tip, huh?” he hisses, voice rasped and thick with disdain. “should split you in half just for saying that.”
you try to answer with “you already are,” or something equally as stupid—but the words crumble the second he shifts, hitting that sweet spot deeeeep inside that makes your toes curl and your thoughts disintegrate into useless moans.
and he’s so mean about it, bullying your pussy and always—watching your face like it’s some kind of experiment. like he wants to see the exact moment you lose the line between pleasure and punishment.
he finally comes, he stays there for a second. still inside, still heavy, still unbothered. then he pulls out with a wet, messy drag, and you whimper, feeling his cum leaking out of you like a used toy.
he laughs, leaning down to kiss your forehead. it’s sharp, cruel and adoring.
“next time,” he says, slipping his kimono back on like he didn’t just rearrange your guts, “be careful what you ask for, brat.”
then he’s gone, leaving behind silence, bruises, and a very literal load to remember him by.
(be thankful he didn’t use both of his cocks)
© j3llyc4kes
:3 please check out my other works! here’s the master list! <3
a/n: ovulating, ignore me and my freaked out posts for the next few days hehe 😅
612 notes · View notes
gloomygloworm · 5 months ago
Text
I open Dragon Age: The Veilguard
I play the game, and I think to myself ‘weird I thought this was a choices and politics game ft metaphors from real history like slavery’ 
My friends go “you’re right that’s what it’s supposed to be but this game is lacking those things”
I go “oh bummer that sucks, I like moral quandaries.”
I see a post that publicly wonders why people are upset that one of the main metaphors (slavery) is missing from the game.
I respond saying yeah its weird that people are complaining that a Big Metaphor is missing from the Big Metaphor Game
I get asked what part of the game matches the Main Metaphor, and I respond with “well, the elves are second class citizens.” I am doing research specifically on the elves. I read in the wiki, with sources, that yeah, no, I’m right, the Church said “if you kiss an elf that’s basically the same thing as kissing a dog.” Elves don’t have rights in most of the countries that the other games are in. One of these places in the North is the Big Metaphor Place where they looooove the Big Metaphor and using the Big Metaphor, but I get called weird for wondering why it’s mostly absent from the game.
I open my blinds and find out that National Holocaust Remembrance Day is no longer a federal holiday. I also find out that my government is trying to "deport" the native citizens of said country. I go back online and find a thread from 2009 where one of the writers explicitly states “Yeah the Dalish started as a metaphor for the Roma but evolved into more like the Native Americans, and the Andrastean Elves are like the Jewish during Nazi Occupied Germany.”
I say “oh okay so Tevinter is like Nazi Occupied Germany. Yeah it’s weird that they’ve kind of sanitized this place and I can’t find the evidence of this anywhere.”
Someone calls me weird again and tells me to read the Codex. Someone else mentions the very beginning of the game, where you see shackles on the ground and there is mention of an elf who is freeing slaves, none of which I witness. I wonder if the slaves are in the room with me. 
Someone else mentions that this is the first time we see Tevinter without any biases, mentioning two characters, Dorian and Fenris.
My friends, horrified, tell me Fenris is an ex-slave (who can be given BACK to his slave owner) and Dorian’s family are Slave Owners. I think to myself huh that’s kind of a weird thing to say considering the biases are “I was a slave” and “Yeah my family owns slaves but that’s kinda bad huh” cause that’s the same exact concept. 
I say “well elves don’t have rights, that sucks, but I wish we got to see more of their day to day. I hear about these alienages that in other games we’ve been able to see, it’s weird there isn’t one in the very poor part of the Capital of the Big Metaphor Place, where there would be a high number of these people.”
Someone says “why do you want to see them suffering? That’s weird.”
I say “yeah but there’s beauty in adversity and I didn’t write the game, I want to see this big tree the alienages supposedly have as a sort of last hope for the city elves to cling to their lost culture.” 
Someone calls me weird.
I open my blinds and politicians and big public figures are giving Nazi salutes in public rallies. 
I boot up Veilguard.
I boot up Origins and get called a slur within the first five minutes of the game. 
I picked a circle elven mage, but I use youtube to look up the city elf origin and go “oh holy fuck wow they just put it right out there huh? That’s the world state, now I know.”
Someone tells me that I should play the game because I would enjoy being sexually assaulted and violated.
I literally don’t have a response to that in any comprehensive way because that is a wild thing to say to a stranger. It is, in fact, two subjects I have intimate knowledge of as a victim of both domestic abuse and sexual assault. 
Someone tells me to just read the Codex.
Someone tells me to just read the Diary of Anne Frank.
I buy the art book for Veilguard and see that some of the major players they nixed were ex-slaves. I look at Reva and I say “oh hey cool concept” 
Someone calls me an idiot online and I laugh while closing my blinds, because purity culture is once more making a comeback and if I licked a single rock in Arlathan all I’d taste was bleach.
772 notes · View notes
anakinstwinklebunny · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
PAIRING: sweetheart!anakin
FLUFF ❦
Tumblr media
The preschool doors swung open with a cheerful little jingle, and ANAKIN SKYWALKER immediately ducked his tall frame inside, looking all around the colorful place of happiness for kids. The familiar smell of crayons, glue, and goldfish crackers hit his nostrich with every step
(God, he loved this place. Mostly because it always led him back to the two best parts of his life. And yes, it was the same preschool he went to)
He didn’t even have to take much steps before he spotted them. Luke who was sitting in the corner by the cubbies, tiny shirt you chose for him now was stained with every color of crayon known to mankind. The sleeves were somehow even smudged with glitter. An enemy of every parent. The little boy was quietly chewing on the end of his dirty sleeve, eyes lighting up when he saw Anakin—
but instead of running, he gave this shy little wave and immediately tugged on his pants like he needed help. Uh oh
And Leia, ever known as Anakin's wild girl came sprinting across the colorful carpet, pigtails bouncing, pink socks slipping on the floor, launching herself into Anakin’s legs so hard he nearly stumbled back.
“DADDY!” she squealed, clinging to him like a little koala.
"Hey, bug," Anakin laughed, scooping her up easily with one arm, pressing a kiss to her messy forehead. "You miss me that much already?"
Leia nodded furiously, pressing sticky kisses to his jaw.
“You’re late, Daddy! Late, late, late!” she scolded, even though he absolutely wasn’t. In Leia’s world, one minute without full attention was a personal offense.
After talking to the lady at the preschool and hearing how Leia was the epitome of social energy and her twin a soft introvert. Anakin quickly muttered 'thank you' and 'see you soon' before Luke tugged more insistently at Anakin’s pant leg, whispering, "Daddy, need help wif' da baffroom..." in the softest little voice.
"Okay, buddy. Let’s get you cleaned up first, yeah? And then we’ll head home to Mommy." To which Luke nodded, tiny hand wrapping around Anakin’s massive thumb.
One quick pitstop at the bathroom (where Luke insisted he could do it all himself but still wanted Anakin to "watch, just in case"), and then the three of them were back at the cubbies, Leia chattering away a mile a minute as Anakin helped Luke into his little light-up sneakers.
"Daddy," Leia said suddenly, bouncing on her toes. "Daddy, guess what Miss Kara said today!"
Anakin smiled indulgently. "What’s that, princess?"
"She said maybe some mommies have babies in they bellies!!" Leia shouted, throwing her arms out wide like it was the most mind-blowing news in existence.
She paused dramatically, placing her tiny, chubby hands on her own little belly. "And I think I have a baby in my belly too!" Anakin choked on his own breath, snorting so hard he had to turn away for a second. Luke just giggled quietly, like he knew Leia was being ridiculous but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
"You do, huh?" Anakin finally said, eyes sparkling with amusement as he zipped up Luke’s backpack. "Well, that’s pretty special, Leia."
"Yup!" Leia beamed, completely serious.
"And maybe Mommy got a baby too! Right, Daddy?"
Anakin scooped both twins into his arms—Luke shyly settling against his chest, Leia bouncing against his side—and carried them out toward the car.
"We’ll have to ask Mommy about that one, bug," he chuckled, kissing the tops of both their heads.
Tumblr media
TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake @skywalkerssgirl @fredswrite @prettiestmini
404 notes · View notes
pitlanepeach · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Radio Silence | Chapter Twenty-Three
Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)
Series Masterlist
Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.
Then Lando Norris happens.
One moment. One line crossed. No going back.
Warnings — Autistic!OFC, stress + anxiety, 2021 abu dhabi gp
Notes — Don't freak out too much. Or do. I don't mind!
Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! — Peach x
Abu Dhabi, 2021
The morning light over Yas Island was pale and peachy, slipping through the slats of the hotel balcony and falling in stripes across the rumpled bed and open sliding doors. The paddock below was just beginning to stir, the beep of forklifts, the low murmur of paddock crew setting up for the final race of the season.
Lando was sitting sideways on the balcony chair, legs folded beneath him, hair wild from sleep and one of Amelia’s sleep masks still tangled around his wrist. He had a half-drunk iced coffee balanced precariously on the railing, and he was tapping through a stream of TikToks on mute, occasionally muttering things like “how do people bend like that” and “okay I’m definitely trying that later.”
Amelia was curled beside him on the lounger, wearing his LN4 hoodie (too long in the sleeves, as always), scrolling through tire degradation data on her iPad, her stim ring rotating in fast loops over her thumb. She was quiet. Focused. Chewing gently on the inside of her cheek.
Then, completely out of nowhere, she said flatly, “I think we should get married.”
Lando paused. Finger hovering over the next video. “Wait. Huh?”
“I think we should get married,” she repeated, still not looking up.
He blinked once. Then twice. “Like… married married?”
“Yes.” She hummed. 
His brain short-circuited. “Wait, right now?” he asked, full of alarm and awe. “Like you wanna elope? I mean, we could. Vegas is only, like, eight hours away—no, wait, you need a license. Shit, do I need a suit? Wait, do I need to propose first?!”
Amelia finally looked up at him, blinking slowly. “No. Not right now. I’m saying, I want that. With you. At some point. Soon.”
“Oh,” he said, visibly short-circuiting again, but this time in a much softer way. “Oh. Holy shit.” He scrambled to sit up straighter, hands moving frantically as if he needed to physically shake the surprise out of his body. “Like you want to marry me marry me?”
“Yes,” she said again, frowning at him now. “I’ve thought about it. You’re the person I feel safest with. I want to live with you forever. I want to do life with you. So yes. I think we should get married.” She made a face. “Also, I’d become your next of kin, which would be very useful. I hated having to wait outside for you to be conscious enough to give me permission to come into the medical room. Ridiculous.” She muttered. 
Lando was staring at her like she’d just told him he’d won the lottery and a lifetime supply of Haribo. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “Are we too young? Shouldn’t we be, like, old and boring first?”
“You’re already halfway there,” Amelia said dryly.
He barked out a laugh, then grabbed a throw pillow and bonked her gently on the head. “Oi! Rude.”
She caught it and didn’t even flinch. “I’m serious, Lando.”
His voice went gentler. “Yeah. Yeah, I know you are.”
He looked at her then — really looked. At the sleepy softness of her eyes, the curls pinned messily back, the stim ring she hadn’t let go of all week. He reached over, tugging lightly on the sleeve of his hoodie she was wearing.
“Honestly?” he said. “I’d marry you tomorrow if you asked.”
Amelia tilted her head. “So you don’t think we’re too young? My dad does. Told me so.”
“Baby,” Lando said, reaching up to brush a curl behind her ear, “I’m gonna be with you forever. Whether we’ve got a wedding band or a piece of paper or just… this. Us. You’re it for me.”
Amelia’s mouth twitched into a slow, private smile. The kind she didn’t give to many people. “Do you have a ring for me?” She knew he didn’t. He was shit at keeping secrets, would’ve told her about it already, but she couldn’t resist teasing him. 
His eyes went wide. “Holy shit. I need to buy you a ring. Like right now. Do you like diamonds? Wait, no. You hate diamonds. That was—nope, that was sapphires I think—”
“I made a list,” she interrupted. “Five rings I like. They’re all titanium.”
“Of course you did.” He looked delighted. “You’re so organised. I love you so much it’s actually unreal.”
She looked at him plainly, with that strange and brilliant way she always had of cutting straight to the truth without frills. “I love you too,” she said. “I want you to know that. Before the race. In case… in case Max doesn’t come out on top. In case it all goes terribly wrong.”
Lando’s expression softened, but it was still there, in the background, that vibrating excitement, that adrenaline. (“I think we should get married,” she’d said, as if he wasn’t going to fixate on those words for the rest of his life.) He reached for her hand, squeezing gently. “Nothing’s going to go badly,” he said. “And even if it does, I’ll be there, alright?”
She leaned into his shoulder, pressed her eyes into it. Let them burn with the force of it until tiny white stars appeared in her vision. 
Below them, the circuit roared to life.
— 
The Red Bull garage was a hive of motion. Mechanics buzzed around the car like bees, laptops open, tire blankets coiled, engineers murmuring numbers in clipped, focused voices. The final race. The final showdown. Equal on points. Everything — everything — had come down to this.
Amelia stood just outside the strategy room, headset in hand, her other thumb flicking over her stim ring in rapid, tight rotations. The noise of the paddock was a low hum behind her, like white noise under pressure. 
Max was already suited up, pacing lightly just a few feet away. Despite the stakes, world championship on the line, one shot at history, he was steady. Calm, like always. But she could see the tension in the tightness of his shoulders, the barely-there furrow of his brow.
He looked over and caught her eye. “You good?” He asked, voice low, private.
She nodded, even though she wasn’t entirely sure she was.
Max took a step closer, pressing a hand gently to the small of her back. “Don’t get lost in your head. I need you today, Amelia.”
“I’m not in my head,” she lied, eyes flicking back to the screens. “I’m watching sector data.”
“Amelia.” His voice was firmer this time, and she finally turned toward him. Max softened again. “You’ve done everything right. I have everything I need.” 
She blinked, jaw tightening. “It doesn’t feel like I’ve done enough…”
He cut her off. “You have. We did this together. You’ve changed the way I drive, do you understand how ridiculous that is? You’ve made me better, more precise. More… human, actually.”
“You were always human,” she muttered.
He laughed quietly, the tension breaking just a little. “I’m serious,” he added. “If I win this championship, it won’t be just for me. It’ll be for you too.”
She looked up at him, eyes dark and sharp and wide open. “You’re going to win it.” She told him. 
Max didn’t reply right away, just looked at her like he wanted to remember her exactly like this: calm but blazing, logic and loyalty knotted so tightly together they were indistinguishable.
He reached up and tugged gently on her ear defenders. “Put these on. Let’s go make history.”
Amelia nodded, slipping them over her ears. The world narrowed to radio comms and telemetry readouts, and she let herself draw in one breath. Sharp, clean, grounded.
She would not let him fall.
— 
Amelia threaded her way through the crowded pit-lane, ignoring the cameras and noise. Her MV33 polo was crisp, headset slung around her neck. But her attention wasn’t on the live telemetry or tire temp conversations. It was locked on the McLaren garage.
Lando stood just outside his car, leaning back against the halo, his helmet resting beside him. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, fingers fidgeting at the strap of his glove.
He saw her before she even said anything, and his face lit up. That same irrepressible smile, the one he never gave anyone else quite like that. “You came,” he said, voice soft, almost surprised.
She stopped in front of him, hands in the pockets of her team jacket. “Always. Good luck.” 
His smile deepened. “You too. Big day for you.”
Her fingers curled slightly in her pockets. “It’s... a lot. The strategy’s solid, the setup’s right, but I keep checking things anyway.”
“You always do.” He agreed. 
She gave a small nod, then looked up at him more directly. “You’ve been smooth through sector two all weekend. Stay clean into Turn 1 and you’ll be fine.”
Lando raised his eyebrows. “Oh, you’re giving me race notes now?”
“Just observations.” She hesitated, then added, “I want you to finish. In one piece.”
He reached out and took her hand, pulling it gently from her pocket. His grip was warm, grounding. “I’ll be careful,” he promised. “No hero moves.”
She held his hand tighter than she meant to. “It’s just… everything’s riding on today. For Max. For Red Bull. For me.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “But you’ve already done more than enough, baby. Everyone can see that. ”
She nodded, her expression unreadable; that usual mixture of intensity and quiet overwhelm. “I wish I could stay here,” she said finally. “Just… with you.”
Lando smiled, all softness and mischief. “Then marry me.”
She blinked. “I already told you I want to.”
He grinned. “I’m just making sure you didn’t change your mind.”
“I didn’t.” She told him flatly. 
He bent forward slightly, brushing his forehead against hers, just for a second. “Okay. Good. Now go win your driver a championship, genius girl.”
She stepped back, reluctantly letting go of his hand. “Go fast. Be safe. I love you.”
He gave a little mock salute, but there was nothing teasing in the look he gave her.
She didn’t say anything else. Just turned and walked back across the grid, her posture straight, her steps steady, even if her heart was pulling in two directions at once.
The world narrowed to three monitors, the roar of engines, and the rasp of radio comms in her ear.
Amelia sat at the Red Bull pit wall, headset on, back straight, gaze fixed ahead. The sun had dipped just below the horizon now, casting the track in a surreal twilight glow. The lights above the grid blinked on, one by one.
“Thirty seconds,” GP said into her headset. Amelia’s fingers hovered over her keyboard.
“Telemetry’s live. Temperatures look good. Max is calm. Holding revs,” she reported, voice clipped, focused.
Next to her, Christian leaned forward, arms crossed. Jos stood behind them, silent but tense, eyes locked on the feed. Everyone was still. The calm before the storm.
On her peripheral screen, she caught a flash of orange — Lando’s McLaren lining up in P6. Just behind Perez. Right there in the thick of it. Her chest tensed.
Please stay clean, both of you.
The five red lights came on.
Focus.
The lights blinked out.
The engines screamed to life.
Amelia’s screen exploded in movement. Max launched well. Into Turn 1, clean. Hamilton was ahead, but only just. She barely registered anything else until GP’s voice cut through the feed.
“Verstappen P2 into Turn 1. Lando holding P6. All clean.”
She exhaled.
Amelia’s fingers flew across her keyboard, eyes darting between the tire degradation model and the live GPS feed. The opening laps were everything. Settle. Get comfortable. Don’t overextend. Everything had to be perfect.
Her gaze flicked again to Lando on the live feed — to the tiny bubble of data they had on him. Still green across the board. Clean throttle trace. No lockups. He was driving smart.
“Max’s rears are starting to warm up. Give him space on corner exit,” she said into the mic, steady as steel.
Behind her, someone handed Christian an updated gap sheet. Jos hadn’t moved.
“Max looks smooth,” Christian muttered. “He’s in this.”
He has to be, Amelia thought. Her jaw tensed.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could still feel Lando’s hand in hers. That soft look in his eyes. That little grin. You’ve already done more than enough.
But she couldn’t afford to think about it now.
— 
Amelia stood stiffly beside GP and Christian. Her heart thudded in her chest, fast and out of sync with the soft hum of the garage.
Max in P2. Lewis in P1. Hardly any time. A complete and total lack of options.
Then… chaos.
“Latifi’s in the wall,” someone said, voice sharp in her ears.
She flinched. Her pulse spiked. Everything blurred. The Safety Car was deployed.
The paddock erupted into movement; engineers scrambling, radios buzzing, tire blankets being yanked off. Amelia didn’t move. She couldn’t. She stood frozen as her entire world narrowed to the math ticking through her head: the delta times, the tire degradation, the sector gaps. All of it churning like a storm, none of it solving anything.
“Box Max, box now!” GP called.
Max dived in. Lewis stayed out.
She closed her eyes. Please let there be time. Please clear the track.
Someone bumped her arm, but she barely registered it. Her stim toy was clenched tight in her hand, fingers white-knuckled, her breathing shallow. Her lips moved soundlessly as she recited the FIA regulations under her breath, not to anyone, not out loud, just for herself. A frantic, silent ritual. Something to cling to.
Article 48.12… Article 48.13…
Then: “Only five lapped cars may overtake.”
Her vision narrowed. That’s not right. That’s not how it works.
But the words didn’t come. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t argue. Couldn’t breathe. Her throat had locked up, emotion swelling until she thought she might drown in it. Her ears rang. The cameras clicked. The radio screamed. The Safety Car came in.
One lap.
She didn’t even hear the lights go green, only felt the rumble in her bones as the cars launched back to their limit.
Max lunged at Turn 5.
Gasps echoed up and down the pit lane. Christian was shouting something beside her. Hands were on heads. People screaming. Mechanics leaping. Her knees trembled, but she didn’t move.
Time slowed. She couldn't see the monitors anymore through the blur in her eyes. The noise, the roar of engines, the yells, the chaos, melted into a dull throb.
And then, “MAX VERSTAPPEN, YOU ARE WORLD CHAMPION!”
The world cracked open.
The pit wall exploded in celebration, a wall of noise crashing over her. Mechanics surged forward. Christian jumped into GP’s arms. Jos was shouting, eyes wild. Someone was crying — maybe her. She couldn’t tell. Her legs gave a little, but she didn’t fall.
Instead, Amelia just stood there. Silent. Shaking.
Max had done it.
He had won.
Her vision cleared, just for a second. She looked at the screen. At the car. At his name at the top of the standings.
He had done it.
And the weight snapped loose.
She sobbed, one hard, breathless sound, and finally let herself collapse into the arms reaching for her.
Chaos.
Cameras flashed, mechanics hollared, fireworks boomed over Yas Marina — but all Amelia could feel was the ache in her chest as she stood just outside the Red Bull garage, eyes still glassy from the flood of it all. Her arms hung limply at her sides, adrenaline coursing, brain half-short-circuited.
Then—“Baby!”
She barely had time to turn before Lando crashed into her, sweeping her off her feet in a blur of orange and sweat-streaked Nomex. She yelped, half-laughed, and clung to him as he spun her around, both of them breathless and laughing now.
“You did it!” he cried against her cheek, peppering her face with wild, fluttering kisses — temple, nose, jaw, forehead. “You did it, baby, holy shit—you did it. I’m so proud of you, I’m so—Amelia, look at me—you were brilliant.”
“I didn’t drive the car—” she started, dazed.
He cut her off with another kiss, hard and grateful and full of awe. “Doesn’t matter.”
Her arms wrapped tight around his neck, grounding herself in the strength of his hold. He was so warm, his hair damp, eyes alight like he’d never seen anything so beautiful as her in this moment. He smelt so bad, of burnt metal and sweat, but she couldn’t let him go. 
“I was so scared,” she whispered into his collar. “I thought I was going to throw up.”
“You didn’t.” His voice cracked with emotion. “You held it together. You always do.”
A familiar voice behind them, hoarse with disbelief and joy and adrenaline. “Amelia!”
They both turned as Max stormed toward them, helmet off, his face still red from the heat and the scream he’d let out over the line. His grin was wild and gleaming, his eyes glassy, and before she could say a word, he stole her from Lando’s arms.
“You—!” Max shouted, grabbing her by the shoulders and practically shaking her. “You fucking genius! You did it, we did it!”
“Max—!” she laughed, high-pitched and near-hysterical.
“No, no—shut up—Amelia,” he kept going, voice thick. “You gave me that car. You gave me that strategy. You gave me everything. You are—you are my champion.”
Then, without warning, he picked her up, arms locked around her waist, spinning her. She screamed through her laughter, tears pouring down her cheeks again. Overwhelmed in the best way. 
Lando was grinning so wide it hurt, chest heaving as he watched them. And for a single moment, everything around them slowed.
The crowd. The chaos. The race. The history.
Amelia, who once thought she was built to exist only in the background, was now wrapped in the arms of a driver who loved her beyond measure, who saw her as a sister. And behind her, the man she loved, watching on, always there to catch her. One, her brother. The other, the man she was going to marry. 
And for the first time in her life, she was at the centre of something unforgettable.
Something permanent.
A legacy.
The party roared on just outside the glass — music thumping, champagne flowing, Max somewhere on someone’s shoulders, drunk on victory and gin tonics. 
Amelia was sitting on the bar, barefoot, her makeup smudged and her voice hoarse from all the laughing and crying. Her MV bomber jacket was draped over her shoulders, and her little black dress had ridden high on her thighs. 
Lando stood between her knees, big hands resting on her thighs. He was grinning like he’d just remembered something ridiculous. “Okay, okay, wait—don’t move,” he said, reaching into his pocket.
“What are you doing?” Amelia asked, blinking at him.
“Making something official.” He pulled out a crumpled little object — sticky from heat, slightly squashed. A red Haribo ring. He held it up between his fingers like it was the crown jewels. “Found it on the snack table in hospitality earlier. Fought two engineers for it. Nearly died.”
Amelia blinked again. “…That’s candy.”
“Engagement candy,” he corrected proudly, stepping closer. “Listen. You said you had a list of five rings you like. This isn’t one of them. It’s better. It’s from me. And it’s temporary. But it counts.”
“Lando—”
“No, shush. Let me be romantic.”
She bit her lip, fighting a smile as he carefully slid it onto her finger, a little sticky, a little too big, but it stayed.
“There.” He beamed. “Now everyone at this party knows you’re mine. Until I can get you the real thing.”
She stared down at it, the ridiculous red candy glinting under the flashing lights, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. “You’re serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life,” Lando said, stepping in to kiss her nose. “You’re it for me, Amelia. Ring or not. Win or not. It’s always been you.”
Amelia swallowed, throat tight, fingers curling around his shirt collar.
“…Can I eat it later?” she whispered.
He burst out laughing and pulled her into him so hard that she squeaked. “God, I love you.”
2 Months Later, Monaco
The sun hadn’t fully crested over the terracotta rooftops yet. Monaco was quiet in the mornings, or as quiet as it ever got, and Amelia liked it that way. Her walking trainers tapped gently on the pavement as she walked, one AirPods in, golf ball tucked into the sleeve of her jacket.
She liked the rhythm of this. Her early walks, the cool air, the scent of sea salt and espresso from the cafés opening up for the day. Her world had slowed since Abu Dhabi. Not stopped, never that, she wouldn’t let herself stagnate, but... it had softened.
She turned a corner by the marina, already heading back toward the apartment she and Lando shared. 
“Amelia?”
She froze.
Roscoe trotted up first, tail wagging as he nosed at her leg like an old friend, and she crouched out of instinct, hand moving gently through his fur. And then Lewis appeared behind him, dressed in black, sunglasses perched high even in the shade.
They stared at each other for a beat too long. “Hi,” she said finally, standing, brushing her hands down her leggings.
“Hey,” Lewis said, and his voice was gentler than she remembered. A little guarded. Roscoe pressed his nose into her palm again, entirely unaware of the stiffness in the air. “I didn’t know you were in town,” Lewis added.
“I live here now.” She told him. “With Lando.” 
His brow ticked slightly. “Oh.” Another pause. One that seemed to stretch wider than the marina below them. “I’m surprised,” he admitted.
Amelia tilted her head slightly. “Why?”
He hesitated. “I guess... I didn’t realize you’d—”
“Have a life?” She asked, not unkindly.
He winced. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Okay.” She looked out over the harbour, then back at him. “You were always kind to me, you know. Back then. Before I started working for Max.”
Lewis looked like he didn’t know what to do with that.
“I don’t hate you,” she said, putting it as bluntly as she possibly could.
He smiled, small and a bit sad. “That’s a relief.” They stood there for a beat, Roscoe now sprawled at their feet like a mediator. “You seem happy,” Lewis said finally. His gaze drifted downward for just a moment. Not intrusive — just a flicker of observation, one he couldn’t quite suppress.
Amelia followed it. Her hand was resting lightly at her side, the sunlight catching on titanium on her ring finger. 
Lewis didn’t say anything. But his expression shifted, just slightly.
“I am.” She told him. 
“Good.” He took a breath, then nodded, like he was trying to comprehend it. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Maybe,” she said, already turning back toward the road. “Roscoe’s always welcome to say hi.”
Lewis chuckled softly. “He’ll be thrilled.”
Back home, Lando would be waking up soon, hair wild, voice sleepy, probably asking where she’d hidden his favourite cereal to stop him from midnight snacking and finishing it all. 
She smiled.
This was her life now. 
And she was kind of in love with it.
NEXT CHAPTER
754 notes · View notes
dddvader · 3 months ago
Text
Nights like this (1)
“Are you mad at me?”
Bob looks at him with those sad dark-blue eyes – blue like forget-me-nots. Ironic, given the episodes of amnesia.
He shifts awkwardly by the bed, hugging a pillow to his chest, and John, even half-watching through barely open lashes, sees the uncertainty written all over him. With a resigned sigh, he throws back the blanket on the free side of his bed. This is, what – the third night this week? It’s not like John’s counting though. Just a careless observation.
“Just get in. And don’t even think about elbowing me.”
“Will you hold me?”
The audacity wakes John up completely. He even lifts his head from the pillow, all the indignation in the world etched into the sleep-creased lines on his face. A question. Offense. The last one – twice.
“When there’s someone behind you, it feels like the nightmares can’t really get through,” Bob explains with that ridiculous half-laugh, easing himself into bed – a bit closer than necessary if you ask John. No one’s asking, unfortunately.
“I like being the little spoon. Makes me feel… safe.”
John stares.
He could use a gaze like the Sentry’s, he thinks to himself – something that crushes people like insects and ends arguments in an instant. But no, of course not – all John can offer is a mix of surprise, irritation, and exhaustion in the glare that he gives him. Bob doesn’t seem to care at all.
He moves again, shifts, presses closer. John feels his own body tense at that closeness, and nearly flinches away when Bob suddenly places his long-fingered hand on top of his, gently guiding it to wrap around his middle. John seems to forget how to breathe.
“Just like that,” Bob murmurs, as if he’s taming a wild animal, pressing his cool but surprisingly soft hand over John’s – right against his firm chest under the cotton shirt.
It stupidly brings back memories of holding Olivia like this, those rare nights spent at home instead of in the barracks or a trench, and John fights the urge to flinch away for the second time in a couple of minutes. But Bob, sensing his traitorous hesitation, presses in even closer.
Warm. Touchable. Smelling of popcorn, fresh laundry, and a little sweat where John’s pressed to his skin.
John ends up face-to-face with the softness of his brown-ish, more like…chestnut hair, he’s not really an expert, nudging his nose into it without thinking, exhaling slowly.
“Are you sniffing me?” Bob asks immediately, trying to turn around, only to bump the back of his head into John’s face.
“For fuck’s sake, Bob!” John winces at the dull thud, tightens his arms around him in a warning grip, and nudges him back with his forehead. “I’m not sniffing you, you moron, where the hell else am I supposed to go? Now lie down, will you? Lie still!”
Bob freezes at the snap, even curls in on himself a little, and mutters a barely audible, “Sorry.”
John instantly feels like an A-grade asshole which he is but…
For some reason, hurting Bob always hits hard – a sharper kind of guilt that spreads through his chest, nauseating and raw. Makes him want to back off, to take it back. To, well, not be an asshole.
“Little spoon, huh?” he exhales after a couple of minutes of dead silence, unable to force out an apology, and presses his cheek to the soft hair, finally letting his sore, tired eyes close.
He’ll never admit it, but his nightmares don’t let him go easily either but there’s no way in hell he’s going to cry to Bob. Or anyone else. No offense to Bob but John? He’d rather take a one-way ticket into the Void.
“Little spoon,” Bob echoes flatly. Then, not resisting the urge, adds dryly, “And you’re the knife.”
John lets out a short laugh at that pettiness and, being typical John, argues:
“No, I’m pretty sure I’m the big spoon, Bobby.”
“You were supposed to be,” Bob mutters, nudging him with a shoulder at the nickname he despises so much. “But the big spoon’s supposed to be about kindness and safety. And you’re an asshole, so knife it is.”
“Knife it is,” John sighs, surrendering under the weight of his exhaustion. “Good night, little spoon.”
Bob doesn’t answer. At least not right away. Probably presses his thin lips together in silent pout, sulking like a kid, but somewhere between being asleep and awake, John hears a soft “Night,” and a hint of a smile ghosts across his face.
English is not my first language, I’m not so good at it, but I needed to try myself. Feel free to rub my face in the mistakes, I’ll actually appreciate it tbh 🙂‍↕️
427 notes · View notes
kurooh · 3 months ago
Text
FIRST DATE JITTERS ☆ MIYA ATSUMU
Tumblr media
atsumu swears he isn’t crazy.
yes, he’s talking to himself while standing in the middle of his very empty apartment, right at the epicenter of the mess he’s made with his own hands. a lamp gifted to him by his mom is on its side on the floor, the lampshade permanently dented now—the flung shoes that had knocked it over are beside it, the toes pointing right at him to further prove that it was entirely his doing.
rumpled blankets are hanging off the foot of the bed, touching the floor while they’re weighed down by all of the clothes he’s dragged out of his closet. somehow, his high school jersey made it into the mix. god, like he’d ever wear that to a date.
atsumu slams down on the dial button again and waits impatiently, starting to fidget as the low tone of the phone drones into his ear. if he gets sent to voicemail one more fucking time—
“what do ya want, tsumu?” osamu’s grumble crackles through the phone, accompanied by the sounds of talking and clinking dishes. “ya only called me nineteen fuckin’ times. should’a known it was only a matter a’time before ya called the fuc—ahem, the restaurant.”
“answer yer phone an’ i wouldn’t have’ta call ya so many goddamn times! listen, i need yer help with something, i’ve gotta pick up a date in a half hour and i—”
“tsumu has a wittle date, huh?” on the other side, osamu ignores the weird looks from customers and his own staff members as he pitches his voice. “and ya just had ta make it my problem. i’m not comin’ over there, ya need to deal with it yerself.”
atsumu sighs indignantly, practically blowing steam out through his nostrils like a wild bison. his brother is really, really getting on his last nerve, but he doesn’t want to show up at your place with a vein bulging out of his forehead, so he tries to calm himself. “if ya’d just listen ta me, ya’d understand that i need some help choosing what ta wear. my apartment’s a fuckin’ mess right now, which coulda been prevented if ya picked up earlier, goddamn it!”
he shouts the last of it and hopes that osamu doesn’t hang up and instead senses his plight with the hard-wired brotherly instincts they both share.
“sorry, what was that? the restaurant’s real busy, i think i might have to get back to it.”
“i need yer advice! i don’t know what i should wear ta pick her up, so stop messin’ around and help me. yer the one who’s been on more dates anyway, ya scrub.”
osamu sighs, probably fidgeting with the phone cord as he contemplates giving in and helping out. this is the first time his brother has called with this much desperation over a date, of all things—he honestly thought that atsumu would get better at this whole song and dance once he made it onto msby. he supposes it’s a good thing that he’s the one atsumu is calling, and it’s a nice little ego boost too.
anyway, between the two of them, he’s always had an easier time talking to and wooing women. you’ve come up in their conversations a few times before, but atsumu tends to drone on about how much he likes you, so osamu pointedly avoids the topic. as much as osamu loves him, he knows that his brother can be a bit much—awkwardly making jokes when he first meets someone, describing volleyball to them against their will, and worse, texting back too quickly to start up more torturous conversations.
but from what atsumu’s divulged to him over the phone, osamu understands that you are a perfect match for his brother. you balance out all of his excitement and listen to his volleyball stories—even laughing genuinely at a few of them—in a way that nobody has before. osamu wants his brother to be happy, and he also wants to be the one credited with bringing the two of you together (he can see this working out in the long run).
“m’kay, tsumu, open yer ears and listen closely. got it?”
atsumu’s trying not to start sweating and ruin the results of what ended up being an hour long shower; you unknowingly send him a friendly text letting him know you’re ready to go and awaiting him. “yeah, i got it . . samu, fuck, she’s sayin’ she’s ready and—”
osamu snaps into the serious, focused persona he usually reserves for when he’s crammed in the kitchen during a holiday rush hour. “ignore her text an’ tell me what yer options are. i assume yer takin’ her ta dinner, right?”
“fancy place over on eleventh street. both of ‘em are dress shirts, but it’s between dark blue, white, and—”
“dark blue, tsumu. make sure it has a goddamn collar, you ain’t going ta a team dinner.”
atsumu frowns as he holds up the shirt, scanning over the fabric for a single wrinkle. he got everything he could find dry cleaned just for this moment and steamed—three dress shirts, two pairs of pants, a vest, and two ties. you’re probably sitting on the couch at home, waiting for a text back in your pretty dress, completely unaware of the fact that he’s spiraling. seeing the dry cleaning bill plus the rush charge on top of it made him take a lap around the parking lot, but he returned brandishing his card, reminding himself that this much effort would totally be worth it. “‘m gonna go with the black pants. should i wear a vest too or will she laugh at me?”
osamu winces, sucking in a sharp breath at the thought. this is a risky maneuver, but it should be fine if he balances it out with a nice tie. one of his waitresses is mouthing a plea for help toward him, and he’s trying to let her know he needs two more minutes max.
“samu, come on,” his voice gets whiny and he stamps his foot on the carpet in frustration. “‘m getting sweaty already.”
“deodorant before ya put anything on, don’t wanna take her breath away with yer stench. match the vest ta the pants, make sure ya got clean socks on.”
“oh, fuck off! i always wear clean socks, it was only that one time.” atsumu is currently rifling through his drawers for a pair of clean socks without patterns in case you end up seeing them later on, and he finally comes up with a tight ball of fabric. he holds it up like it’s a gold nugget, the eureka of the decade, and then remembers that nobody is in the apartment with him.
“look, tsumu, i gotta go. remember ta be a gentleman ‘n hold doors, pull chairs, all that.”
atsumu’s face drops while he’s in the middle of pulling his socks on. he starts to protest uselessly, growing more panicked with every word that tumbles out of his mouth. “samu, oh my god. she’s gonna look really fuckin’ good, how do i compliment her? what if i start chokin’ when we’re eatin’ and i embarrass myself? i need ya ta talk ta me, i really like her and—”
“tsumu, breathe. no need ta get so damn worked up, it’s jus’ a date. be yerself an’ use yer judgment. ya got it in the bag, don’t sweat it.”
osamu considers that this may be the wrong choice of words, because atsumu groans and pops off the cap of what is probably a stick of deodorant. dejected, his brother mumbles a goodbye and a thanks, not wanting to hang up himself.
“wear a blue tie. send me some pictures, ‘kay? try yer best not ta look like a scrub, dude. good luck with her, yer gonna be fine.”
atsumu is quick to follow his brother’s instructions after applying one too many layers of deodorant. when he’s fully dressed, he takes a mirror photo and sends it to osamu’s cell, then texts you that he’s heading over to pick you up for dinner. he sprays a small amount of cologne and adjusts his too-tight tie before heading out the door, his tummy flipping nervously.
it is only soothed when you open the door with a smile on your face, right after a single knock. atsumu looks as handsome as ever, outfitted in a tantalizing combination of blue and black. his cheeks are a dusty pink, and they only darken when he respectfully tries to take in the beauty of your dress.
he clears his throat, snapping out of his daze, and offers you his arm, a cute though awkward grin splitting across his face. “yer just . . god, yer breathtakin’. so beautiful.”
you laugh as you take his arm, cheeks warming. “you clean up pretty well yourself, atsumu.”
“wait, what?” you cackle in disbelief, laughing breathlessly as osamu nods seriously. “no way, he really called you and begged you for your help?”
“yeah, he tore the fuckin’ place up all because he couldn’t make a decision. hey, tsumu, tell her how much ya spent on dry cleanin’.”
atsumu flares indignantly, cheeks burning with a visible glow as he sets down the wine glasses a little harder than he should. “samu, i know we’re gettin’ married, but that was two goddamn years ago. ya didn’t even help me that much, my tie was tangled and—”
you gasp in surprise, recounting the events of your first date. “baby, is that why i had to loosen it for you? it was so tight, i’m surprised you didn’t suffocate and keel over on the way up to my apartment.”
atsumu dramatically turns his head to the side, tipping his nose up in disdain. he did nearly choke himself out with the tie that had been a birthday gift from an msby teammate, but in his defense, he was rushing out the door and had only ever worn ties tied by either his mom or osamu. “maybe if i did, i wouldn’t have’ta sit here while you throw dirt all over my name, samu. and you, babe, yer laughin’ at me.”
osamu pours himself a glass of wine and watches as you console his brother, hugging him tightly. “mm mm, tsumu. i’m only laughing because i think all of the effort you put into that date was sweet. i didn’t look it, but i was almost as nervous as you were.”
eyes gleaming with hopefulness, atsumu softens and looks at you with a small smile. “really? yer not just tryin’ ta apologize for disparagin’ me in front of samu?”
“i promise,” and then you tilt his face toward your own, brushing your lips against his in what is clearly the beginning of a lovey-dovey kiss.
osamu sits back with the wine glass in his hand, then starts to gag and retch loudly when atsumu purposefully kisses you more passionately. “urk! i know yer gettin’ married next month, but everybody else an’ i don’t wanna see all that.”
instead of saying anything, atsumu lets his middle finger speak for the two of you.
inspired by this! haikyuu fluff will always be special to me <3
537 notes · View notes
tossawary · 3 months ago
Text
Watched an online presentation today about recent book trends, both in retail sales and library borrowing. Romance gets a big section of course, being (I think) THE most popular genre, with several heavy-hitting subcategories including romantasy and supernatural and historical and contemporary and on and on.
I wasn't surprised to hear the presenters bring up the uptick in sports romance as a subcategory, particularly hockey, because yeah, I've seen that. Unavoidable lately if you have... uhhh... entered bookstores + logged onto library websites + actually follow NHL hockey on any social media platform. Still unsurprising, even if you have done none of those other things, if you have any passing awareness of the behemoth that is Sports Real Person Fiction in general and Men's Hockey RPF in particular on AO3. (As of me going to check just now: nearly 200,000 fics and nearly 40,000 fics respectively. Damn. HRPF is nearly 25% of the parent tag there. People are having fun over there.)
I WAS taken aback, however, when the presenter brought up a few titles to watch in the coming year, noting a potential rising type of sports romance: motorracing sports romances. Now, this is not actually SURPRISING if you have any passing awareness (which I again did) of the other behemoth that is Formula 1 RPF on AO3 (nearly 49,000 fics on AO3, more than HRPF), but I simply hadn't actually thought about the industry potential before now. It did make me think to myself, "How many book industry analyst people are taking cues from AO3 now? I mean, it seems very reasonable to pay fanfic some attention for a bunch of different reasons (it does indicate a potential ready market, I presume there are simply plenty of fanfic pleasure readers in the publishing industry, etc.), but wow... time flies and culture changes. I mean, people are publishing original omegaverse stories, for example, and have been for a while now. Wild."
And also: "Huh. Can we play the game of predicting future popular book genres, specifically niche romance subcategories, 5-10 years from now based on what's popular on AO3 right now?" Now, I don't actually keep up enough with broader fandom trends to do this well or accurately, but it's still fun to look at various fandom trends and imagine their future professional publishing counterparts that I will simply Not Understand because it's Not My Thing. If they actually figure out how to file the serial numbers off of Minecraft Gamer RPF or something someday and it becomes the next big thing, no one tell me, because I want to get blindsided, just absolutely bodied by bafflement, when I walk into a bookstore. It'll be fun.
446 notes · View notes
aquaholicsanonymousworld · 4 months ago
Note
omg i have either a jack abbott/dr robby idea where his wife is a nurse in labor and delivery and is pregnant herself and is called down to the ER to help a patient deliver their baby. and then his wife goes into labor herself right after they wrap up the case!! so cute
Double Shift
Pairing: Dr Jack Abbott x Nurse!Reader
Tumblr media
You were eight months and three weeks pregnant. Not that you were counting.
Technically, you were still on duty—light rotations only, per hospital policy—but your belly had other ideas. You’d started waddling instead of walking three days ago. Your compression socks were a second skin. And even the L&D nurses had started side-eying you every time you clocked in.
Still, when the ER called up for backup on a woman about to deliver without prenatal care, you didn’t hesitate. You slid on your coat and waddled your way to the elevators, radio in hand.
“Where’s Nurse Abbott?” someone shouted when you arrived.
“Right here,” you said, brushing your hair back, cheeks flushed. “What do we got?”
Dr. Collins gave you a rundown, but you were already locking eyes with the patient—young, terrified, crowning fast. Instinct kicked in. You pulled gloves on, barked orders like muscle memory. Jack always joked you were the real boss around here, and right now? He was absolutely right.
Forty sweaty, heart-pounding minutes later, a baby cried into the air. You handed the little girl to the mother, heart swelling as the woman sobbed with joy.
That’s when the cramp hit.
It wasn’t a Braxton Hicks. You knew Braxton Hicks. This one curled low in your pelvis and grabbed your spine on its way out. You nearly doubled over.
“Okay,” you muttered. “Okay, nope, we’re good, we’re—shit.”
Someone noticed. “Nurse Abbott? You okay?”
“Get me a wheelchair,” you huffed. “I think I just clocked out.”
By the time Jack burst into the ER, wild-eyed and still in his scrubs from surgery, you were gripping the side of a gurney, muttering curses between contractions.
“You weren’t even on the floor,” he snapped, running to your side. “You were supposed to be resting!”
“I was helping!” you groaned. “It was one delivery! One very complicated, very crowning delivery!”
Jack looked like he might strangle someone. “Of course you would go into labor helping someone else give birth.”
You flashed him a weak smile. “I’m just on brand like that.”
He laughed, half in awe, half in panic. “Jesus, I’m not ready.”
“You’ve had nine months to get ready, Jack.”
“And you had two hours left on your shift!”
“Then let’s call this poetic timing, huh?”
He kissed your forehead, hand gripping yours tight as the team wheeled you upstairs.
“Poetic timing,” he echoed. “Alright, Nurse Abbott. Let’s meet our kid.”
The lights in the labor and delivery suite were soft. Calming, allegedly. Not that you noticed — your teeth were grinding, your back felt like it had been split open, and Jack Abbott was hovering.
“You’re breathing too fast,” he said gently, wiping sweat off your temple with a towel. “Come on, sweetheart. In through your nose, out through your—”
“I swear to God, Jack,” you panted, eyes wild, “if you quote Lamaze at me one more time I will suture your mouth shut myself.”
He smiled, but there was real concern behind it. His hand curled tighter around yours.
“You’re doing great,” he murmured. “So great.”
A nurse at your feet — someone from your own floor, which only made this more surreal — nodded. “We’re almost there. One more big push, Nurse Abbott.”
“Y’hear that?” Jack said, eyes glassy now. “Almost there.”
You gave him a look. “I live here. I know how far we are.”
Still, you bore down. Screamed into your teeth. Clutched Jack’s hand like a lifeline.
And then—
A rush of sensation. A sudden quiet.
Then the sound. That piercing, staggering, perfect sound.
Your baby’s first cry.
You sagged back into the pillows, tears slipping from your eyes before you realized they were falling.
Jack was standing frozen, stunned. Eyes locked on the baby the nurse was already bringing over.
“It’s a boy,” the nurse whispered.
Jack blinked. “A boy?”
You smiled, dazed and exhausted. “You okay?”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I just… it’s real now.”
You reached for him, voice soft. “Hey, Dad.”
That finally cracked him.
He bent over the bed and kissed you, long and slow, hand cradling your face like you might disappear.
When the nurse placed the baby on your chest, Jack pulled the blankets around you both with trembling fingers, then sat beside you and stared like he was watching the sunrise for the first time.
“Look at him,” you whispered.
Jack didn’t take his eyes off the baby. “He’s perfect.”
“He’s stubborn,” you mumbled. “He already made me go into labor two hours before shift change.”
Jack huffed a soft laugh, brushing a finger over the baby’s impossibly tiny hand. “So… just like his mother.”
You let your head fall against his shoulder, content for the first time in hours. The three of you breathing in sync.
Jack looked down at your son, then at you. His voice was low, reverent.
“You delivered someone else’s baby… and then delivered ours.”
You smiled.
“Double shift.”
888 notes · View notes
oh-no-its-bird · 1 year ago
Text
Team 7 gets zapped into the warring states era but it's like, team 7 either mid or directly after wave-arc.
They're babies!! They're untrained little babies!!! None of them have gotten that good good character development yet!! Kakashi is still actively desperately wanting to not teach them!! (tho he may have just gotten his "ahh fuck. I actually have to teach them, huh." Moment)
Sasuke looks like a carbon copy of a younger Izuna and it's going to cause problems
Naruto thankfully doesn't look much like an Uzumaki, but his tendency to very loudly introduce himself is going to get him into trouble
Going w my usual flavor of "the Hatake are a very small but very famous clan known for being fucking insane", people are seeing Kakashi and going "oh god oh fuck what are one of THOSE guys doing here oh sage preserve us please don't eat me" as Kakashi just kinda stands there like 🧍‍♂️
Sakura is the only one safe from not being fucked up and over her clan, good for her!
-> back to the Hatake thing.
The kids still know virtually nothing about their sensei so they're learning all this stuff about his clan and believing every word of it, from the believable rumors to the insane.
Sakura, in a hushed, worried voice: "Sensei,, is it true ur clan eats people??"
Kakashi, who's father died before he could tell him almost anything about their clan and genuinely doesn't know but at this point is starting to get a little worried about it:
Kakashi, who also never passes up the opportunity to fuck with someone: "only stupid little students who ask stupid little questions <3"
Sakura and Sasuke: *worriedly look at a confused Naruto*
For convoluted reasons they run into the Hatake of the era and after introductions they look at the kids and are like,
"Oh!!! Ok, so this is your kid, right? :)" pointing at Sakura.
And Kakashi is like. ",,no."
"Ohhh, ok. So this one is your kid then?" *points at Naruto*
",,,,,,,,no."
They look at him confused then nod at Sasuke. "So then that one's your kid, right?"
"None of them are my children."
*visibly disapproving / disbelieving side eye*
One big difference between this and the team ro time travel one is how much less trustworthy Kakashi comes off to literally everyone who looks at him.
He's a trained adult shinobi, probable bloodline thief (with no way to prove his innocence), and he has 3 children from 3 different clans (2 of which are indirectly enemies bc the Uzumaki is a Senju ally) (1 of which might have a direct relation to the Uchiha main house) and comes from an infamously volatile "wild clan" from another country entirely (Iron country)
He is NOT getting out of this with talk no jutsu bullshit. He has a target on his back from day 1 and it will take a minor miracle to get even a single person hear him out
Anyways uhh—
Saying Tajima and Butsuma are still alive but due to die in some months (till team 7 accidentally interfere and somehow accidentally save Tajima, maybe also Butsuma but I'm more biased towards Tajima so I'm thinking just him actually)
Kakashi sees baby Kagami and feels like he's been hit by a truck bc he looks just like a miniature Shisui and he has hang-ups about his "suicide"
Half-Hatake Tobirama is catching HEAT from Kakashi's antics. Why does one of ur cousins have a sharingan. Where did he get those children. Do you know anything about this. Is it your duty to help hunt him down bc hes your blood. If not yours then it's definatley the Hatake's, call them immediately and tell them to clean up their mess.
Bloodline theft is like THE ultimate no-no for all shinobi, especially in this era. To the point that even ancient enemies will sometimes temporarily set aside grudges to kill bloodline theives. Kakashi is so fucked, someone get him out of there
Mmmm there are like still bits and pieces of thoughts floating around in my head for this but I can feel myself getting distracted and want to get back to art fight so I'll leave it here for now
2K notes · View notes
kxsagi · 4 months ago
Note
Rin, with a nice and cute girlfriend would be so funny tho
Rin usually wears monotonous clothes right? Like he never wears anything colorful, and they're mostly black, grey, white or a little bit of turquoise but tHAT'S BESIDES THE POINT
Then all of a sudden he comes to practice with cute keychains on his bag, a matching one with his girlfriend or even finds him with bow hair clips on his hair that pushes his bangs off his face since she said “it covers his handsome face."
And they meet her and they're so surprised that she's the total opposite of Rin, she's nice and cheerful, always smiling unlike her boyfriend who looks at everyone like they had committed a crime against him (that being them breathing in the same air as him)
Asking her why she's dating Rin then she just simply answered, "Oh, he's nice and sweet to me. He's such a good boyfriend honestly!" then they'd be like nICE, WHICH PART? WHEN AND HOW?
i should be reviewing for my upcoming exam this week and here i am thinking about blue lock boys, i have problems.
— 🪻
“𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐲 𝐱 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞”
Tumblr media
a/n: you're so real for thinking about blue lock boys instead of your studies bc that's also me i fear
but good luck on your exam! for working so hard in school, i hope i can make your day better and life a little less stressful! ❣️
rin was never one for color.
if his clothes had a soul, they'd be a monochrome masterpiece: black shirts, grey pants, white sneakers, maybe a touch of turquoise if he was feeling wild. but that was beside the point. everyone knew him for his quiet demeanor, his "resting bitch face," as his teammates liked to call it, and his constant air of "everyone is suspicious until proven otherwise." 
then one fateful day, rin showed up to practice different. his usual bag was still there, of course, but now it had little keychains hanging from it – three, to be exact. one was a tiny panda, another a glittery star, and the third was a matching keychain, his rocket keychain, paired with one you, his girlfriend, gave him. and wait, was that a hair clip in his hair? a bow clip? what the heck was going on? 
his teammates blinked at him, and some even choked on their water. "rin?" chigiri asked, eyes squinting. "what's... what's happening with your bag? and your hair?" 
rin tugged at the clip awkwardly, looking a bit out of his depth. "uh, it's nothing." but you had told him he needed to wear it. "it covers your handsome face," you'd said. so of course he did. for you. 
a couple of minutes later, everyone was gathered around in the locker room, and there you were – his girlfriend. if rin was the human embodiment of a cloud on a bad day, you were a sunshine explosion. bright, cheerful, always smiling, like you'd just woken up and realized it was your birthday every day. they stared at you, completely stunned. 
“wait, this is your girlfriend?” reo asked, unable to hide the shock. 
rin rolled his eyes. “yeah, yeah, stop staring.” 
you just giggled. “he's always so serious, huh? but i love him! he's the best, nicest boyfriend ever!" 
they all exchanged confused looks. "nice? nice?" bachira gasped. "which part? when? how??" 
"oh, you know," you waved them off like it was no big deal. "he’s sweet, he buys me flowers. and he listens when i talk about my day. he’s a total softie." 
his teammates froze, trying to process this. rin? a softie? the same rin who scowled at the vending machine for taking his last dollar? 
“he’s nice when he wants to be,” you added, smiling at him. 
rin was already blushing, awkwardly fiddling with his shirt as if it could swallow him whole. "okay, enough," he muttered, crossing his arms. 
“come on, rin! you can’t fool them,” you teased, giving him a light nudge. “you always pick the perfect movie for our movie nights. remember the time you watched that cheesy rom-com just to make me laugh?" 
rin groaned. "it was for you." 
they all stared at him like he’d just announced he was secretly a superhero. a superhero. 
“okay, okay,” isagi said slowly, “we get it. you’re, like, a secret softie. the world is full of surprises.” 
rin sighed and adjusted his bow clip, silently questioning all his life choices. he swore if anyone took a picture, he was going to have a meltdown. but deep down, he couldn’t help the tiny smile tugging at his lips. 
you had a way of making the world seem a little less grey. 
© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢
480 notes · View notes
holybibly · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
♡ 𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: Professor of Philosophy, Jeong Yunho x student reader ♡ 𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You knew from the beginning that distracting Yunho while he was working was one of the worst decisions you could ever make, but you still decided that the sweet risk of punishment was totally worth it. ♡ 𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 / 𝔄���� / 𝔗𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔢: Smut, University!AU, Sugar Daddyl!AU, Dark Academy!AU, Student х Teacher, Forbidden Relationship ♡ ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI ♡ 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 6.2k ♡ 𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Older Yunho (37) / younger reader (20), Hardcore dom Yunho/ sub reader, rapturous consent, degrading, humiliation, power play, voyeurism, exhibitionism, sex toys (dildo, sex machine), pet names, dirty talk, orgasm delay, overstimulation, praise kink, squirt, wet and dirty, explicit sexual content, explicit language, and more. ♡ net: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity ♡ 𝔄|𝔑: This is the fourth time I'm doing this, do you think it will be a charm? Well my sugar bunnies, are you ready for Hardcore Dom Yunho, huh? I promised you that I would show you his dark and powerful side, and I always keep my promises. So buckle up, sugar bunnies, you're in for a wild ride. ♡ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 at the end of the post. ♡ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔶 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 - check for more 𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖉 - Your love makes all this possible
Tumblr media
That was something specific, inherent only to Yunho. Something incredibly dark and vicious, something that always made you feel so small, submissive, and defenceless in his domineering presence. It was something that drove all your instincts to be obedient to him and try to please him in every way possible.
And right now you could feel it like never before.
Yunho deliberately continues to ignore you, instead focusing all his attention on checking the exam essays for his philosophy class, among which you know your name will be too, neatly written in black matte ink next to a calligraphically exquisite vulgar red 'A'. But even with this dismissive attitude on his part, you know for a fact that he's just as horny as you are, maybe even more so, but unlike you, Yunho has always been able to control his dark desires to perfection.
And that was one of the many things that attracted you to older men—the ability to control everything in their lives, including you.
You knew from the beginning that distracting Yunho while he was working was one of the worst decisions you could ever make, but you still decided that the sweet risk of punishment was totally worth it. This time, though, you had to admit that the punishment that Professor Jeong had chosen for you this evening was making you feel really nervous.
The position you're in right now makes you feel too vulnerable. But still, you can feel your whole body heating up in anticipation of what's about to happen. The burning heat of arousal builds up between your legs, causing your sticky, viscous juices to gush through the sheer material of your mesh thong and drip copiously from your little, fluttering hole.
Dressed only in a sheer mesh set of luxurious lingerie that was really nothing more than a few tiny pieces of completely useless fabric held together by thin silk ribbons and which barely covered your plump, wet with excitement cunt and large, heavy tits. Your soft, plump flesh boldly protruded from the too-small cups of your bra, allowing everyone to enjoy the lewd view of your bare breasts and nipples hardened by the cold air, one of which had a brand new, glistening piercing.
The overconfident and arrogant white gold and diamond 'Y' glittered faintly in the semi-darkness of the room with every move you made, and right now, standing on all fours in Yunho's private office, feeling the cool tip of the vanilla lube smeared dildo teasing the tender folds of your eager pussy, you finally realise the power he has over you. And even that precious little "charm" on your swollen, sensitive nipple serves as a clear, second-by-second reminder that every breath you take belongs to him.
After all, Professor Jeong has some pretty unconventional ways of marking what's his—one day he'll leave a vivid heart of purple-stained hickeys and bloody wine bites on your breasts, another day he'll use your thong as an impromptu plug so you can keep his sperm in your well-fucked pussy all day. And after that, he leads you by the hand to a tattoo parlour to get you a nipple piercing with the capital letter of his name as jewellery.
Despite his age, wealth, and influential social status, Yunho was still incredibly unpredictable and even a bit too youngly playful at times, but that didn't stop him from being a man with a capital "M". A man who treated you like a precious princess and fucked you like a dirty, worthless slut.
"Are you feeling comfortable, my little princess?" Yunho asks you in a low voice, effectively snapping you out of your thoughts and bringing you back to reality.
His voice sounds deeper and huskier than you've ever heard it before, sending electric shocks through your entire body, and you barely manage to hold back a sigh of annoyance at your own body's overly enthusiastic reaction to something as insignificant as someone's voice.
He leisurely puts aside the pile of checked essays and finally dignifies you with his dark gaze. You can practically feel his hungry, desire-filled eyes creeping over your bare skin until they stop at the curve of your soft, plush butt and the small sex machine set up right behind you.
This was the kind of you he liked best—dressed up so beautifully, submissive and patiently awaiting your punishment. In short, you looked just perfect for him to want to fuck you senseless.
"Mmm... I think I can say that, Professor Jeong." When you answer him, there's a touch of subtle trembling in your voice.
Hot, viscous moisture gushes from your pussy, completely soaking the thin material of your thong and running down the inside of your thighs until thick drops of your juices begin to drip onto the floor beneath you, leaving dark, wet marks on the fluffy, ashy carpet as you wriggle and squirm in your place under the heavy intensity of his gaze.
"Ah, I can see that." Yunho let out a deep, grim chuckle—contempt was clearly audible in that soft, silky sound. A thoughtful expression appeared on his unfairly handsome face, which, as you knew, did not bode well for you; your professor looked at you as if he couldn't decide what he wanted more, to continue torturing you or to eat you alive. "I think I've lost count of the number of times I've told you not to disturb me while I'm busy, Princess." When he begins to speak again, his voice is lower and hoarse, and that seductive, almost purring sound slides over your skin like a forbidden caress, making your whole body tremble with anticipation.
A searing flash of sweet arousal flared deep in your belly, causing your pussy to involuntarily clench, sending jolts of intense, electric pleasure straight to your heated, quivering core, making your tiny, juice-soaked little hole contract with the desire to be filled by the thick cock.
You needed to satisfy that hunger that was eating you from the inside out, that oppressive feeling of emptiness inside you that could only be filled by a huge cock. A massive and long one, with visibly bulging veins that could really hit all the sensitive spots inside you and make you have orgasm after orgasm.
All these thoughts made your tiny thong even more uncomfortable and unpleasantly sticky from the amount of fluid that was pouring out of you; your tiny clit swelled and throbbed weakly, and you took a moment to squeeze your thighs together as hard as you could to ease this intrusive sensation just a little. But that only caused more of your slime to flow down your legs.
Your skin feels as if it's on fire, your whole body is shaking and tingling with excitement, as if every single cell in your body is burning white hot. You are too sensitive, and you can't hold back the loud, pitiful sob that comes out of your throat because of this inappropriate enthusiastic reaction to Professor Jeong. Especially since this adult, filthy rich, luxurious man hasn't even touched you yet.
Your knees rub painfully against the expensive wool carpet as you seductively arch your back and spread your legs wider, pressing your breasts against the floor to show Yunho your pussy and booty in the most lewd way possible. In this new position, the cold, slippery silicone head of the dildo presses right against your slit, the thick artificial cock touching your aching clit as you move weakly against it, desperate for more physical stimulation. The contact is so pleasurable that it sends a tangible shiver down your spine, and you moan loudly from that tiny moment of pleasure it gives you.
"What's wrong, Princess? So eager to get a cock in your lusty, wet cunt, even if it's a fake one." He begins, elegantly rising from his seat and leisurely walking over to you. "Look at you, pretty girl, you're so desperate to use the sex machine and fuck yourself on it when it's not even turned on." Yunho crouches down next to you before wrapping his long, slender fingers around your chin and lifting your face up to look up at him.
He's so close; his beautiful big eyes are so dark and predatory, there's an almost animal hunger in them that's hard to hide, and it makes your heart beat faster like a bunny caught in a trap.
The air between you crackles with tension and desire; you feel yourself sweating; you are so desperate and needy for him, and this incredibly luxurious man in front of you knows that, and that knowledge gives him absolute power over you.
"What am I going to do with you, my little slut?" Your professor's words are accompanied by a seductive, lecherous grin, and that grin contains a thousand of the dirtiest and most disgusting words and dark promises.
Whatever your answer would be, Yunho already knew exactly how he wanted to hang out with you, and it made you feel hot and cold at the same time.
Nevertheless, you decided to answer, knowing that disobeying would only make your current situation worse.
'P-Professor...' You begin, slightly stammering over your words. "I want you to fuck me. Please, Yunho, I'll be on my best behaviour, promise. Just fuck me, please; I need it so bad.' You moaned, looking up at your handsome, sexy professor with big, pleading eyes through your fluffy, fluttering eyelashes.
Your reply made Yunho chuckle before he left a light, airy kiss on your temple and rose from his position, straightening his beautiful, seemingly endless long legs. From your seat, you can clearly see the outline of his thick erection straining under the tight designer fabric of his pants, and your mouth begins to drool at the thought of feeling that magnificent cock inside you.
Yunho slowly walks around you until he's at your back, then crouches down beside you again, this time placing his large, warm palms on your soft, plump buttocks. Your skin tingles at his touch, and you unconsciously wiggle your butt from side to side, causing the tip of the dildo to rub harder against your wet, quivering folds and the sticky and your soaked thong to gather between your lewdly open, plump labia.
Even at this slightest stimulation, your stomach clenches in a hot, reflexive spasm, and your palms become uncomfortably damp with sweat.
"Sweetie, you promise me to behave every time when I punish you, and yet...' Yunho's sultry, purring voice was full of feigned sugary tenderness as he pressed his index finger against your needy cunt with a kind of sadism, pushing the sticky, wet fabric of your thong deeper between your plump labia. "And yet here you are again. Begging to be fucked like a pathetic slut. Is this, is this how my precious princess is supposed to behave?' He runs his finger lightly up and down your slit before he slides it over the spot where your clit is, causing your hips to shake weakly.
'Mhh... Professor Jeong, I... I just...' You sob pitifully in an unsuccessful attempt to explain yourself.
"Just look at you, trying to excuse yourself like the real whore; doesn't that look pathetic?" Long, viscous strands of your sugary slime reach for his elegant fingers as he pulls his hand away from your hotly aroused pussy. "Fuck, princess, you're flowing like a bitch in heat, so eager to be fucked, aren't you? How can I be nice to you when you're the one who's in demand of your own punishment?" Yunho hissed through clenched teeth; from such a filthy spectacle, his heavy, massive cock twitching in the tight confines of his designer pants and underwear, fresh drops of pre-cum leaking from the swollen head, dripping down its thick, wiry length, coating it in a glistening layer of moisture. Had the circumstances been different, he would have pulled your silky, tight cunt over his cock like a glove, but today he must teach you a lesson and punish you for your disobedience. "Next time you'll think twice before getting under my desktop and start sucking my dick greedily, distracting me from my class." With these words, your tiny thong flies off your body in one swift movement of his hand, exposing your pink, oozing pussy to his hungry gaze.
The sight of your plump, pink cunt makes his mouth water, and Yunho can't help but press his handsome face against your warm, slippery folds and slowly run his tongue along your labia. The pressure of the passionate, wet, open-mouthed kisses that alternate with the rhythmic, caressing movements of his soft, experienced tongue as it swirls between your quivering folds is enough to drive you crazy.
A helpless sob escapes from your throat as Yunho's thumb slips into your tiny hole, stretching it slightly, only to plunge his tongue into the warmth of your tender, sensitive opening, and you immediately clench around him, trying to hold on to the sensation for as long as possible.
"Please... Please give me more. I need to feel your tongue going deeper and deeper into my pussy. Screw me with your tongue, please...' Your tone is so terribly whiny, and you move your hips lustfully, trying to match the movements of Professor Jeong's greedy tongue, letting his soft, plump lips latch on to your swollen, thirsty for caress bud.
"Don't you dare tell me what I have to do, Princess." His voice drops a few octaves to something closer to a dangerous growl. The sensual vibrations on your clit literally make your whole body tremble. "And if you continue to act like a pathetic, cock-hungry slut, I'm going to have to extend your punishment, darling, and I'm sure you won't like it. I'm going to tie you to my bed, princess, and fuck you until you can't even lift a finger, and your soft belly will swell from the amount of cum I'm going to pour into you. And I will do it again and again and again until your insides rearrange themselves to memorise the shape of my cock. And all you'll be able to do is lie there and take what you're given." Yunho pulls his handsome face away from your pussy; instead, his hands grab your hips, spreading your thighs further apart and bringing you into the position he wants. His fingers dig into your soft, plump flesh, leaving angry scarlet marks on it as he roughly spreads your thick buttocks apart in the dirtiest way possible to fully expose your cunt oozing viscous, molasses-like juices. "Do you understand me, baby?"
"Mmm, yes...I understand you, Professor Jeong.". You whimpered pitifully, your cheeks flushing a hot, dark berry red at Yunho's obscene, filthy words, but still you couldn't deny the searing rush of excitement they were causing in your body.
Yunho lets out a low, velvety moan as he admires your beautiful pussy, so wet and swollen. More warm saliva gathers in his mouth, and he growls again, this time from burning, bubbling, lava-like lust as he sees the dense, viscous drop of your mucus dripping from your sweet little hole. Fuck, he wants to see it all stretched and gaping, quality fucked and filled with his thick, milky sperm. Yunho wants to fuck you, stupid, until you are reduced to a crying, drooling mass.
He spits on your quivering folds a few times, making them even more wet and messy, before his hands pull you back until your pussy is pressed tightly against the huge, thick dildo that slides easily into your hole, stretching the tight, delicate walls of your cunt. Your head falls helplessly, and you moan with pleasure as the cold toy penetrates deeper into you.
"Haven't you had enough of these games, little girl? Pretending to be Miss Pink Sugar when in reality you're nothing more than a slut hungry for cock'. Yunho is blatantly mocking you, and you can clearly hear the sarcastic, arrogant tones in his deep, husky voice. You don't even have time to reply to him before his heavy, broad hand comes down on your plump butt to give you a hard spanking. You sob, unconsciously pushing your hips back, hoping to get more of that hot and spicy sensation, which only makes you want to push yourself deeper into the thick silicone cock attached to a sex machine. "Did I tell you that you can move, eh? You impatient little bitch." Your professor hisses, the burning pain mixing with the pleasure as his hand touches your ass again, this time even more roughly, causing your tender skin to aggressively redden and begin to tingle.
'N-no, sir! I'm so sorry.' You whimper pitifully at his reproachful tone. Your fingernails are scraping the carpet on the floor as he spanks you once more. But in spite of this, you continue to be disobedient and begin to slowly turn your hips in the direction of the artificial cock as you fuck yourself on it. The silicone is cold and smooth from the copious amounts of lube that Yunho has so generously smeared over it with his big, beautiful palm, and the contrast in temperature between it and your hot cunt makes you moan loud and long.
"What a slut you are. A cock-hungry, horny, heated bitch who can't wait to be fucked like a cheap street whore. Look at you, princess; I don't even have to turn on the sex machine; you do all the work yourself." Yunho's fingers dig painfully into your flesh as you continue to work your pussy along the massive length of the dildo. "This should have been your punishment, my darling, but you seem to have a bit too much fun. Though there's nothing I can't fix, right, princess?"
You scream as Yunho suddenly flips a switch, and the sex machine comes to life and begins to move in a steady, powerful rhythm. Your eyes instantly lose focus, and your mouth opens as the toy begins to move inside you. One of Yunho's hands slides under your body and roughly squeezes one of your large, plump tits, still held in place by the transparent mesh cups of your luxurious bra, before his long, slender fingers wrap around your swollen nipple and pinch it between them.
"Oh, God, Sir..." You let out a loud sob that is cut off halfway through and turns into a long moan of lust and desire. Your hips visibly tremble as you mindlessly wiggle them in a futile attempt to match the fast mechanical rhythm of the silicone toy. "I...aaa...I... It feels so good... P-Professor Jeong, I need you so badly...'' You had trouble concentrating on anything but the massive dildo that was now penetrating deep into your pussy, forcing your slippery, tight walls apart with each powerful thrust.
Your moans grow louder and louder, your sweet, round cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement as you hear the heavy fake balls slapping against your clit as the toy continues to rhythmically push back and forth on it full length into your tight pussy. The blunt, rounded head of the fake cock rests against your cervix with each thrust with such force that it practically penetrates it.
Ignoring your loud sobs, Yunho flips the switch again, increasing the speed of the sex machine and making it fuck you in an incredibly fast and even more hard rhythm.
You try to match the speed of the sex machine, but it is too much for you. Your big, juicy tits jiggled lewdly in time to the movements, the walls of your pussy clenching as you tried to keep the fake cock inside you as the pleasure coursed through your body wave after wave.
Yunho can see that you're too close to cum—your cheeks are flaming, airy sobs of pleasure are relentlessly escaping from your plump, doll-like lips, which open in a perfect orgasmic 'o,' and your eyes are clouded with pleasure and glistening with unshed tears.
So he pushes your hips forward, pulling your body away from the sex machine, the silicone dildo slipping out of your cunt with an embarrassingly loud, wet squelch. You're trembling all over, your whole body shaking in little spasms, your thick, curvy thighs still moving feebly in a feeble attempt to get on a dick and finally get that long-awaited release.
"S-sir, please! Please, please let me come! I have been such a good girl for you!" You find that you can barely breathe, pathetic sobs gurgling in your throat as you feel your orgasm slipping further away from you with each passing second.
Can you just behave yourself well and be my precious sugar princess instead of being a lowly, useless whore?" Professor Jeong says arrogantly. All you can do is whimper softly and wriggle in your seat, looking up at him with big, begging eyes, in a silent plea for him to let you come. "You look so pathetic, my pretty little girl, but I can't say I don't like it. Maybe even too much for your own good, Jewel."
Your luxurious professor doesn't say another word but instead wraps his gorgeous big hand around the massive, sinewy girth of silicone dick, slick from the vanilla lube and your mucus, before guiding it back into your pussy.
As soon as the thick head slides fully into your small, used opening, greatly stretching the thin, delicate edges of your tiny hole, the loud, mechanical sound of the sex machine switches on, and the disgusting, wet squelching of your eager pussy fills the room again.
Instantly, a new wave of searing pleasure rushes through your body like a super-duty tsunami, completely consuming all of your thoughts. You're so distracted by it that you don't even notice Yunho kneeling before you until you feel his thumb trace the outline of your plump lips. Your lips immediately open for him, giving him the opportunity to slide his finger into the inviting, hot wetness of your mouth as you stare at him with eyes glazed with desire.
"I'm going to fuck that sweet little mouth of yours, Princess. I'll make you choke on it until your throat remembers the shape of my cock, and I can't see it bulging on your neck. And you'll love it, every fucking second of it." You whimper weakly as his finger slips from your mouth, and instead of that, his hand rests instead on the large bulge of his cock, clearly visible on his trousers.
He strokes himself lazily in front of you a couple of times before he unzips his expensive designer trousers and slides them down, along with his boxers, until his hard, massive cock and his heavy, cum-filled testicles are fully exposed for you. God, you'll never stop admiring your stunningly handsome professor's cock. It's huge, thick, and so wiry, with a swollen, reddened glans and throbbing, visibly protruding veins, all shiny and wet from the copious amounts of pre-cum flowing from the tiny, sensitive hole at the tip.
"Come on, Princess, don't be shy. I know how much you want my cock, don't you? Show me what a good girl you can be, and I might even let you come.". He strokes your head affectionately, like petting a favourite kitten, before pushing down hard on the back of your head until you cradle the warm, slippery head with your lips. Your tongue quickly flicks across the soft, velvety surface, greedily licking up drops of bittersweet pre-cum, and Yunho hisses at the incredible sensation, throwing his head back to expose his long, seductive neck to you and rolling his eyes in pleasure. 'Oh fuck, baby. Keep it up.' He moans once more.
You greedily savour his low, hoarse moans, swirling your tongue around him as you slowly begin to get drunk on his excitement. You can feel the warm, rhythmic throbbing of his cock in your mouth, and wanting to intensify the sensation, you rub the delicious, protruding vein on his silky, slippery length with your tongue several times. As you press your lips harder around it, you make Yunho's hips twitch and push his cock deeper and deeper into your mouth until it will hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag.
You let out loud and long moans around its massive length, sending pleasurable vibrations through it, before you fully relax your jaw and allow Yunho to push his hard, hot cock even further down your throat.
"Take it, my princess. You want me to be proud of you, right?" With those words, Professor Jeong wrapped both hands around your head, holding you in place, and you dug your fingers into the soft carpet beneath you, trying to gain some stability, waiting for what would happen next. The next movement of his hips pushed the head of his cock deep into the back of your throat, and he let out a hoarse, lustful moan as he felt your soft, warm throat immediately tighten around him like a silk vise. The sound this amazing man made was almost enough to bring you to your climax. 'That's it." The low growl in his voice betrayed the darker, sadistic part of his personality. The part he so rarely showed, preferring to hide it behind the sweet and elegant image of a perfect gentleman and an ideal man in every way.
Professor Jeong Yunho was what you might call a wolf in sheep's clothing, and though he rarely gave you a glimpse of his true predatory nature, you always knew it was somewhere close by, languishing and bubbling beneath his skin, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal itself.
But that's something you can think about another time, not when Yunho continues to hold your face in place and insistently pushes his massive, velvety length down your throat until his balls press against your chin.
You start to feel dizzy as the heavy, silky length completely fills the small, moist space of your mouth, restricting your ability to breathe normally, and you lift your wide-open, tear-filled eyes upwards to seek his approval of how well you've served his in every way luxurious dick. And judging by the way your professor is looking at you right now, you've done a more than excellent job.
He's heavily and intermittently breathing as if he's just run a marathon. Hoarse, velvety moans escape his parted lips every time your throat reflexively tightens around the huge girth as you swallow his cock, the slippery, narrow walls of your throat massaging his protruding with excitement and lust, throbbing veins. A rich, dark cherry blush spread across his handsome cheeks and long neck, where tiny drops of sweat flowed down until they disappeared into the collar of his classic white shirt, and his eyes were half-closed and full of dark, honeyed desire. In a nutshell, he looked absolutely fucked.
Seeing all this, you can't help but feel a small pang of pride that you're the reason your incredibly attractive, hot professor is in this dishevelled state right now. Even though you can see the obvious outline of his hard, massive erection on your neck, and the thick silicone toy continues to pound relentlessly into your pussy, filling the room with embarrassing wet, slippery sounds and loud squelching as the fake cock goes in and out of you.
This goes on for a few more minutes that seem like an eternity to you, before Yunho finally pulls away from you. A dirty grin plays on his beautiful, plump lips as he watches your saliva mixed with pre-cum dripping down your chin as you desperately try to get your breathing back to normal.
"Pretty girl, it seems to me that you can't get enough of my cock. Or is it because of that stupid fucking toy that your cunt swallows so greedily, hmm?" Professor Jeong says with a wry smile as you whimper pitifully at the loss of the hot, luscious cock in your mouth. "It's so pathetic. Don't you think so, princess? But, you know, I actually think it's even cute in a way, all this pleading, crying, and drooling, but it's also starting to get a bit tiresome, as I've seen it all before. Now behave yourself and take your punishment like a big girl." The switch on the sex machine clicks into place again, and you let out a shrill scream as the fake silicone cock begins to thrust into your cunt at a frantic pace.
Your eyes lose focus completely, and your mouth opens in a mute scream as the toy moves inside you, relentlessly stimulating your sweet spot and hitting your cervix every time the cock goes full length inside you, till the sticky, lube-stained testicles slap against your sensitive, throbbing clit.
Vast streams of your mucus leak from your sloppy, stretched hole, coating the dildo with a thick layer of shiny glaze and dripping onto the floor, making a huge wet stain on the light grey carpet beneath you. Your legs are trembling as you try to hold yourself upright, and your toes are clenching together with a sharp, scalding hot sensation of pleasure.
"That's it, baby doll, take it all; that's what you wanted, isn't it, you slutty, worthless whore?" Yunho growls, watching intently as you writhe and moan. With each thrust, the toy plunges full length into you, and he can see its impressive size making your belly bulge.
Another click, and the speed of the sex machine becomes almost unbearable for you. You scream loudly as you feel the artificial veins on the dildo stretch along the walls of your vagina with each mechanical thrust.
"Please, please, please, please let me cum. Please, let me come, Professor! I'll be such a good girl for you! I promise!" You're shaking all over, your orgasm becoming more and more palpable, and you know it's going to be fantastic.
The movements of the dildo are now causing you a dull throbbing pain of pleasure as it rubs against your sensitive, tender pussy. As the blunt tip of the fake cock penetrates your cervix for a moment, you let out a deafening, strangled squeal at how full you are now. When this happens, both of you clearly hear how the streams of thick, sweet mucus gush from your cunt. Tears of pure pleasure trickle from your lust-glistening eyes as the pleasure builds faster and faster in your belly with each passing second, reaching a tipping point of blinding, incandescent satisfaction at an unbelievably frightening speed.
Your orgasm was so damn close that you could almost taste it on the tip of your tongue.
Your lower abdomen clenches in a reflexive spasm, and you half gasp, half scream as raw, blunt pleasure pierces your core, your walls contracting around the dildo as the overwhelming wave of pleasure completely overwhelms you. You scream his name loudly, your voice hoarse and cracked from how ruthlessly Yunho had used it earlier as you plumbed the depths of pure bliss. The walls of your pussy are quivering and throbbing as you try to hold the toy inside you, the sweet juices pouring out of your swollen, fucked hole like a waterfall.
The movements of the sex machine slow down as you relive your orgasm but never stop, and you lift your eyes up in bewilderment, looking to your dark, gorgeous professor for an explanation.
"Ah, my sweet, empty-headed girl, there really must be nothing but air in your pretty little head now that you are thinking that your punishment is over. Look at you, looking at me so pitiful and begging, yet your cunt continues to greedily milk that dildo like it's starving and you're drooling, bitch. Sometimes I have the feeling that you were only made to take cock and be a pretty sperm dump." Yunho's aura becomes even more dominant and dark, his voice is hoarse and passionate, and he has that dangerous, demonic tone to him that makes your skin crawl with goosebumps.
"I can't... I can't take it; it's so much...' You whimpered. Your whole body was shaking from the sensory overload that was washing over you like a tidal wave. 'Oh God, s-sir, turn it off! Please, I can't... Oh, goddamn it! Sir, I'm begging you...'
"Oh no, no, no, sweetheart, it doesn't work this way.". Yunho says as he looks down at you and strokes his cock in a lazy manner. His large, elegant palm glides languidly down its massive, hard length; his cock is slippery and shiny from all the pre-cum that's oozing out. 'Let's up the degree; I think you've had enough of a warm-up already."
'Please...d-don't...I'll behave myself...' You were completely lost in the overwhelming sensations of indescribably painful ecstasy that shook you with each thrust of the huge dildo.
You collapsed onto your forearms, your arse still defiantly raised and lewdly exposed. Your mouth was open, as if to help you breathe, and you moaned loudly, saliva bubbling at the corners of your lips and dripping from your tongue onto the floor; it's almost disgusting but at the same time pornographically attractive.
Right now you look like a complete fucking mess.
The dildo continued to bob rhythmically in your trembling cunt that was oozing with thick, sweet goo as you tried to comprehend what was happening. A sharp sensation of pleasure pierced every nerve in your body, and sparks of hot ecstasy tinged your skin. Your sensitive pussy trembles, your tender labia red and swollen.
The pleasure is all-consuming, and you're not sure how much more you can take. The whirring noise of the car, along with the sloppy sounds of the fake cock going in and out of your vagina, made you feel like you were drowning.
'Sir, I'm begging' you...'
'Shut your mouth, princess.' Professor Jeong slaps you on the bottom again, which only makes you squeeze even tighter around the toy. "Just take what you are given and say thank you."
Yunho's vulgar, lewd words only serve to push you further to the edge, your body shaking uncontrollably as you feel yourself starting to fall apart.
"Oh God, I'm going to cum again, Professor!" You let out another loud squeal, arching your back even more and rolling your eyes in pleasure as you come for the second time that night. This time it is a powerful, clear stream of liquid that erupts from your pussy and floods the whole of the floor beneath you.
You don't even have time to catch your breath as Professor Jeong slides his hand under your exhausted, orgasmic body to continue your torment for a little while longer. He finds your super-sensitive, painfully aroused clit and begins to rub it in tight, aggressive circles. You sob out loud, hypersensitive and stunned, your body writhing with this strange, indescribable sensation that fills your whole being and causes your eyes to roll back in your head.
You felt that familiar tightness in the pit of your stomach again, and the muscles in your thighs began to quiver as Yunho suddenly pinched your clit with two fingers.
Black dots begin to dance in front of your eyes, and the coil in your stomach bursts without warning, and you cum again, spurting violently onto your professor's fingers and the sex machine. Your body falls forward exhausted, the thick dildo slipping out of your tortured pussy, leaving you shivering and absolutely empty-headed.
Your knees ache, your tender skin burns from the irritation and the tiny scratches the carpet left on it, but that doesn't stop Yunho. His long, slender fingers don't leave your poor clit for a second, rubbing and pinching the swollen bud until you squirt for him again, letting your sweet juices run down his fingers and palm, flowing down his wrist and his bare forearms until the rolled-up sleeves of his designer shirt are completely wet.
'Please...' You whimper. Professor Jeong... Yunho, I'm so sorry... I can't take it anymore. It's too much...'
'Oh Princess, don't be like that, isn't this fun?' Yunho says mockingly, wrapping his big arms around your trembling thighs and helping you onto your back, your breasts rising and falling convulsively as you try to come to your senses and gather your thoughts, but your hole still continues to contract in post-orgasmic thrusts. Your cunt was absolutely wet and quality fucked—swollen, reddened, and sweetly glazed with your liquid lust. When your cunt literally looked like the ripest, most luscious fruit, how could anyone not want to fuck you again? "Come on, baby, don't relax too much; we're not done yet. You're going to cum on my cock and tongue a few more times, and then I'll consider accepting your apology."
Damn, this man will totally ruin you, and you can't say you won't like it.
Tumblr media
❣ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part I @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing @claimmeyourprincess
❣ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part II @unholywriters @hey-syia @hrts4nohee @vnessalau @mlink64 @tessakleine @fr34k4c1dr41n @313hwa @lilyuwon @tiziamattaga @un-knew @wiaxul @siyah-staryis @seonghwasbbgirl @mingisfavgf @bunnyluvr25 @roserperfume @lose-lose07 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lelaleleb @bubblebisk @silverlight-h @ chloe-elise-2000 @cookiesandcreammy @mxnsxngie @ghostlovesworld @i-love-ateez @mingisprincesss @vampscan @peachygiku @vampqueen777 @miyaluvvsyou @stay-tiny-things @moondanse94 @thyvessel
❣ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part III @yyaurii @infrenchexit @sanniesbum @jaxyy219 @lostxxgirl @m1sss1mp @manipulatedstars @cotton-candycloudz @kienhawon @flowerxsin @londonbridges01 @fluffyyongbokie @sang-09 @hobarihope @sanniesaur @luvbit3z @sanriomilk @s4erin @sanhwalvr @mallielovssyou @slytherinslays @your-bloodbag @cherricola-star @passionandsuga @hwasangel @yyaurii @nevermoreraven1 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @unholywriters @mortal-advocate
854 notes · View notes