#Comment something if you read all the tags lol

[kingofbodyrolls]

Say I Do (m) | jjk

*this is a re-upload since I deleted my old account 🫣

You and Jungkook tease each other at your wedding reception.

→ Pairing: jungkook x female reader (no Y/N and unnamed) → AUs: non-idol!au, wedding!au → Genres: smut– like it’s just smut, nothing else 🤣 → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!) → Word count: 5.2k → Warnings/tag: unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, public sex, handjob, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, slightly rough sex, choking, biting, spitting, ass grabbing, impreg kink, degrading names (whore used once). → Author’s note: I made this for my lovely friend Lua (@letjungcoook7)!!!! SURPRISE!!!! I hope you like it! I was inspired to make this because of our chat, and I just want to say that you are so fucking lovely, sweet and kind 💖 I really hope this isn’t too much, but I just had too 🥹 I really wanted to make it dirty, but it ended up being more sweet instead, I’m sorry! I would talking to you and I just wanted to let you know that I adore and treasure you 😘 Honestly Lua, I just wrote this to tell you how beautiful you are– mind, body and soul. Thank you Lua, I love ya 💜 This is just something very short while I work on ‘My Heart’s Home’. But I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think: my inbox is always open, and I love to hear from you, even a reblog/comment will put a big smile on my face 💜 Also!!! This is written from Jungkook’s POV (well I tried, lol). And normally I don’t describe the reader/MC, but she does have a tiny bit description in this, but I still feel it’s vague enough. But if that isn’t your thing, it’s completely fine 🙂 This is not proofread (because I’m too lazy for that right now). → Read on AO3? [link] 

Rising gracefully to his feet, Taehyung's infectious enthusiasm fills the room as he declares, “I propose a toast!” His radiant smile sweeps over the myriad of guests you meticulously invited to your wedding—more than a hundred souls sharing in the joy of your love story. 

As he prepares to speak, Jungkook can't help but marvel at the grandeur of the occasion. Despite his personal inclination towards a more intimate celebration, he wouldn't dream of denying you this moment, surrounded by the warmth of friends and family who have come together to witness the union of two hearts.

Despite Taehyung's earnest attempt to capture Jungkook's attention with a throat-clearing preamble, Jungkook finds himself inexplicably entranced elsewhere. Even in the midst of one of his closest friends delivering a heartfelt wedding speech—something he should be wholeheartedly absorbing—but it’s hard. As hard as his dick that you’re palming over his dress pants.

The tantalizing dance of your hand sends ripples of pleasure through him, an intoxicating distraction that eclipses all other thoughts. It's an artful symphony of sensation, each movement crafting a masterpiece of desire within him. The struggle to concentrate on anything else becomes an exhilarating battle. Fuck. 

You, the mischievous enchantress, wield your allure like a potent spell. 

A tantalizing awareness of your own danger courses through your veins, and you wield it with an expert finesse. Every knowing glance, every sly smile, is a calculated move in the game you effortlessly play. You've mastered the art of ensnaring him, wrapping him around your finger with a magnetic force that compels him to dance to your whims. It's a dangerous dance, but he willingly succumbs to the intoxication of your charm, embracing the thrill as much as he cherishes the intoxicating love he feels for you.

What the fuck is Taehyung saying?

Taehyung’s words dissolve into a meaningless buzz, drowned out by the illicit symphony you're orchestrating beneath the table. The audacious zipper sliding down and the tantalizing exploration of your hand over the fabric of his boxer briefs command all of Jungkook's attention.

Profanity trembles on the edge of his tongue, but it's lost in the overwhelming sensation that eclipses any coherent thought. Your stealthy touch renders him blissfully oblivious to everything else unfolding around him.

Suppressing a low, guttural sound, he clenches his teeth, using every ounce of willpower to stifle the moan building in his throat. As desire courses through him like a wildfire, he willingly parts his legs, a silent invitation for you to explore more boldly, granting ample space for the electrifying touch of your hand over the hardened length of his cock.

He marvels at your audacity, finding it both exhilarating and daring that you'd embark on such a provocative escapade during your wedding reception. Yet, deep down, he acknowledges that it's a reflection of the wild spirit that has always defined your relationship. It's a shared affinity for dancing on the edge, reveling in the allure of danger, and delighting in the thrill of engaging in activities that should, by all accounts, remain private. It's a facet of your relationship that has always been magnetic, drawing you both into a world where the risk of being caught only adds to the intoxicating excitement.

In the blink of an eye, your hand deftly maneuvers beneath the fabric of his boxers, sending a shiver down his spine. A hiss escapes his lips as your long, slender fingers confidently envelop his cock. The warmth of your touch is both a balm and an inferno, and he instinctively tilts his head back in the chair, a silent plea for discretion. 

As he surrenders to the delicious sensation, he can't help but cast a furtive glance around, fervently hoping that the clandestine ballet unfolding beneath the table remains a tantalizing secret shared only between you.

Despite the uproarious laughter echoing through the room in response to Taehyung's speech, Jungkook remains oblivious to its contents, ensnared the choreography of your hand beneath the table. 

The mirthful ambiance only fuels his curiosity, surmising that Taehyung must have delivered a punchline or shared a humorous anecdote. Meanwhile, beneath the table's concealment, your hand skillfully traces a tantalizing path along his hardened cock, drawing a hushed hiss from Jungkook's lips. 

With a steely resolve, he masks any trace of emotion, locking his features in a stoic facade and maintaining an impressive silence. His determined effort is not just to conceal the electrifying sensations your actions are evoking, but also to safeguard the clandestine intimacy you both share from the prying eyes of the unsuspecting guests. 

Every fiber of his being is a coiled spring, resisting the urge to yield to the pleasure that threatens to unravel beneath the veneer of his restrained expression. 

As his gaze shifts towards you, he's met with an unexpected sight—there you sit, an image of demure elegance in your exquisite white gown. 

The fabric caresses your curves in all the right places, accentuating the allure of your figure. The daringly low neckline teases a glimpse of the captivating silhouette of your bosom, leaving him momentarily breathless. The off-the-shoulder design unveils a generous expanse of your soft, tender skin, a tantalizing sight that aligns perfectly with his preferences. 

Despite the provocative allure of your attire, your outward appearance betrays no hint of the illicit affair transpiring beneath the table. If he didn't intimately know the secret you were concealing—your hand discreetly exploring the realm beneath his pants—he'd be fooled by the serene facade you present, seemingly absorbed in the captivating rhythm of Taehyung's speech.

In a silent plea of gratitude, Jungkook revels in the fact that the attention of the guests is fixed on Taehyung's speech, sparing him the scrutiny of prying eyes. 

Little do they know, the real spectacle unfolds beneath the table, where your touch becomes an exquisite torment. 

Every movement of your hand is a tantalizing dance, a blend of ecstasy and torture that threatens to unravel him. With a teasing finesse, your soft fingers caress his frenulum, tracing a path towards the depths of pleasure. The deliberate slide over his slit elicits a shiver of pure ecstasy, leaving Jungkook teetering on the precipice of desire that you expertly navigate.

Your hand envelops him, a cocoon of warmth that intensifies with each skillful stroke. The pleasure coursing through him is undeniably exquisite, a testament to the mastery of your touch. Yet, a lingering awareness tugs at the edges of his consciousness—an impending climax that threatens to unravel the careful threads of restraint. The exquisite sensations you evoke compel him to desperately anchor his thoughts, to redirect the intoxicating focus from the captivating dance beneath the table to Taehyung's speech.

The challenge lies not just in resisting the magnetic pull of pleasure but in maintaining a semblance of composure, navigating the delicate balance between the ecstasy you're orchestrating beneath the table and the public fa��ade demanded by the occasion.

“We’ve been friends for so long, how many years is it now, Gguk?” As Taehyung poses the question, a hushed anticipation envelops the room, and all eyes converge on Jungkook. 

Fuck. 

All eyes are on him and he can’t think— he’s mind is clouded with thoughts of you. 

Taehyung– Fuck. How long have they been friends? 

In a sudden stumble of recollection, he breathes out, “17 years,” the weight of the shared history resonating in the room. Yet, the gravity of the moment is unexpectedly intensified as you administer an assertive squeeze around cock. Fuck.

With a chuckle that slices through the tension, Taehyung seamlessly continues his discourse, effortlessly reclaiming the attention of the room and redirecting every wandering gaze back to him. A collective exhale echoes in Jungkook's mind, a silent gratitude for the timely diversion that spares the clandestine spectacle beneath the table from becoming the unwitting center of attention. 

Relentless, you maintain the rhythm on his dick, displaying an unwavering determination that hints at an intention to push him to the brink, right under the unsuspecting gaze of the gathered guests. 

As the divine caress of your hand propels him perilously close to the edge, a surge of urgency overtakes him. Desperate, he turns his face towards you, eyes silently pleading for respite, but your gaze remains steadfastly elsewhere. 

Frustration wells within him, and he attempts to use his hands to guide yours away, only to find your grip tightening in response. The conflicting forces of pleasure and restraint collide within him, his muscles tensing as a hitch in his breath betrays the precarious precipice upon which he teeters.

Leaning in, you bring with you a halo of your natural sweet scent, an intoxicating allure that wraps around him, overwhelming his senses and leaving him slightly dizzy. 

Your lips, soft and plush, delicately find his cheek in what appears to be a tender gesture to the outside world. To the unsuspecting onlookers, it's a simple, sweet kiss on the cheek. 

Little do they know, in that same moment, your daring move involves not just the gentle press of your lips but the subtle exploration of your other hand slipping under his boxers to fondle his balls.

Fucking hell he’s gonna come.

Ecstasy courses through him like a wildfire, an imminent eruption fueled by the intoxicating cocktail of your skillful touch on his balls, warm breath teasing his ear, and the relentless grip on his pulsating desire. The threshold between pleasure and release narrows to a perilous edge, and he finds himself teetering on the brink, held captive by the maddening symphony of sensations you've orchestrated. 

Despite his valiant efforts to remain attentive to his friend's speech, the sheer mastery of your pleasure-inducing touch proves insurmountable. Every deliberate stroke, every strategic squeeze of his balls, propels him further into the abyss of ecstasy. In a moment of surrender, he can no longer contain the torrent of desire, and ropes of his essence surge forth from his throbbing dick. His lips bear the weight of a stifled moan, as you keep stroking him through his orgasm.

Beside him, your chuckle is a symphony of sweetness interwoven with a hint of mischief, a melodic backdrop to the ongoing crescendo of pleasure you expertly administer through his orgasm. 

As he traverses the realm of oversensitivity, a low, guttural grunt escapes him, drawing the curious gaze of Taehyung, engrossed in his ongoing speech. Though momentarily caught in a gaze of questioning inquiry, Taehyung forges ahead, resuming his speech with a peculiar stare, unwittingly oblivious to the spectacle unfolding beside him.

Thank fuck both of your parents aren’t seated right next to you. That would have been utterly mortifying and embarrassing.

With a deliberate finesse, you retract your hand from his crotch, guiding it gracefully over the table, where you nonchalantly employ a napkin to erase any lingering evidence. Seated there, you adopt an innocent facade, a picture of angelic composure that conceals the fact that, mere seconds ago, your hand delved into the forbidden realm beneath his pants. 

With an audible exhale, he reaches for a napkin, hastily attending to the aftermath on his pants. The damage is fortunately minimal, thanks to your deft intervention that efficiently captured most of his release. Smart girl.

But a mischievous spark ignites in his eyes, a silent vow echoing beneath the surface - oh, he's going to get back at you for that, you little minx. 

As the notes of the classic wedding waltz envelop the room, Jungkook marvels at the surreal reality—he gets to call you his wife now. The ethereal glow surrounding you transcends the physical, a radiant aura that has always defined you. Despite your humble protestations about your own beauty, he's captivated by the undeniable truth: you've always been, and continue to be, an enchanting vision. Countless times you've confessed to feeling otherwise, but in his eyes, you're a masterpiece. In this moment, as you dance together, you're not just a part of his world; you are his entire universe.

Gazing into the pools of your sweet, doe-like eyes, their exquisite almond shape captivates him, holding his attention in an unbreakable trance. He contemplates the nuances of your beauty, from the enchanting curvature of your slightly upturned nose to the endearing moments when he can't resist playfully poking it during your teasing exchanges. Every inch of you, in his eyes, is a masterpiece, and he pledges to vocalize his admiration every day, a ritual aimed at etching your beauty into your own consciousness. 

He dreams that with each affirming word, he'll weave a tapestry of self-love around you, until the day you see yourself as he does—undeniably, breathtakingly beautiful.

As you dance, your eyes ablaze with an unmistakable love, he luxuriates in the intensity of your gaze. A daring current of desire propels his hand, gliding with deliberate intent down your body until it boldly claims your ass. 

Uninhibited, he seizes it with audacious confidence, the bold move oblivious to the watchful eyes surrounding you. A soft, mischievous squeeze elicits a sweet chuckle from you, a harmonious note in the symphony of shared amusement that reverberates through the party, as the crowd collectively succumbs to the captivating allure of your uninhibited dance.

As the soft strains of the music envelop you both in a waltz, your heads draw nearer, the enchanting melody echoing the tender dance of your hearts. With the song nearing its end, he seizes the moment, leaning in intimately close to your ear. The hushed promise that escapes his lips carries a tantalizing undercurrent, his warm breath grazing your skin as he vows, “I'm going to get you back for earlier, babe.”

He senses the subtle shiver coursing through you as his touch lingers, a silent testament to the shared electricity between you. As the final notes of the song fade into the applause and cheers of the crowd, seizing the perfect moment, he leans in, embracing you in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

As the rhythm of a more upbeat song invigorates the dance floor, he seizes the opportunity to whisk you away from the lively crowd. Amidst the pulsating beats and the vivacious laughter of the guests, he guides you outside the building, their merriment gradually fading into the background.

In the crisp night air, he asserts a sudden dominance, pressing you against the sturdy wall. His gaze, infused with an unmistakable hunger and need, locks onto your beautiful eyes, creating a magnetic tension that reverberates between you. 

“You are a little minx, you know that?” His words, not laced with anger but rather a dangerous undercurrent of arousal, hang in the charged air. Your chuckle, a sweet symphony that further stirs the tempest within him, prompts a hiss as he succumbs to the magnetic pull, diving fervently into the captivating abyss of your mouth.

The kiss intensifies, a collision of passion that is both hard and rough, fueled by an undeniable need. In the urgency of the moment, he can't afford to wait, the impatience palpable in every fervent press of lips. 

You envelop him in the embrace of your arms, fingers intertwining at the nape of his neck, while your gaze rises to meet his. In the depths of his eyes, once warm brown orbs now transformed into pools of near-black intensity, a reflection of the potent arousal coursing through his veins. 

Your hand embarks on a daring journey, descending to the front of his pants once more, and the response is instantaneous – hardness reignites, a testament to the insatiable flame you kindle within him. Desire for you pulses like a constant current, an almost permanent state of arousal that defies logical explanation. Whatever enchantment you cast upon him, it's an irresistible force that weaves a tantalizing spell, leaving him perpetually captivated by the mystique of your touch.

Breaking away from the embrace of your soft lips, he wears a smirk laden with both warning and allure. “You're playing with fire, babe,” he remarks, the subtle edge in his voice echoing the intoxicating dance of danger and desire that swirls between you.

In a hushed whisper that flutters against your ear, he breathes, “You've been a naughty girl.” 

The words, laden with an undercurrent of sultry authority, send a shiver down your spine, awakening a cascade of tingles that traverse the landscape of your entire body. 

Descending to the delicate expanse of your neck, he peppers it with soft, almost teasing kisses, each touch a prelude to the symphony of sensations. Then, in an abrupt shift from gentle caresses, he bites down, coaxing from you a loud moan that resonates through the air—an intoxicating sound that echoes in the depths of his desire, a melody he'll never tire of hearing. 

Continuing his explorative journey, he ventures further south, his lips descending to the curve of your breasts. With a deliberate tenderness, he places a kiss atop the soft expanse of your tender tits.

Gracefully sinking to his knees, he gazes up at you with a mischievous smirk, the air thick with a heady mixture of desire and anticipation. His tongue darts out, grazing his lips in a provocative dance of anticipation, signaling the imminent exploration of pleasures yet to unfold. 

With an assertive grip, he seizes the front of your dress, drawing it away in a swift, purposeful motion. Despite the abundance of fabric, he deftly bunches it up with ease. “Hold your dress, please,” he directs, handing you the end of the gathered fabric. 

“Hmm. Nice lace stockings, and that girdle—what are you doing to me?” he murmurs, his voice a tantalizing blend of desire and fascination. His gaze lingers appreciatively on your beautiful thighs encased in nude stockings adorned with lace at the top, fastened to a concealed girdle on your waist.

His eyes widen with a mix of surprise and arousal as they land on your wet and glistening pussy, the evidence of desire trickling down your thigh. “Oh my god. You're not wearing panties?” he breathes out, his voice carrying the weight of both revelation and anticipation. A subtle lick of his lips betrays the intensity of his reaction.

A playful chuckle escapes your lips as you hover above him, and without a moment's hesitation, he immerses himself in the intoxicating warmth of your desire. His lips eagerly find their destination, tracing a decadent path from the delicate folds to the pulsating essence of your clit. 

The sensation ripples through your body, igniting a shiver that becomes an involuntary response to the electrifying dance between tongues, pleasure, and the shared yearning that binds you together.

He embarks on a tantalizing journey of tongue and suction, starting with teasing caresses that send tremors of anticipation through your body. His hands, strong and purposeful, find purchase on your thighs, holding you in a firm grip as he orchestrates a symphony of pleasure with his skillful tongue, creating an intoxicating dance that blurs the lines between sensation and desire.

A throaty moan escapes your lips as his nose delicately brushes against your pulsating cl*t, his tongue delving as deep as its voracious hunger allows. The exquisite sensation of his exploration elicits an involuntary clenching around him, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

Your thighs, unable to withstand the intensity, succumb to a tremor, trembling beneath the intoxicating caress of pleasure that consumes you.

His dexterous fingers ascend to your throbbing clit, and with a skillful touch, he sets in motion a rapid dance of pleasure, causing your entire body to quiver with newfound intensity. The quickened rhythm of your breath becomes a symphony of desire, a telltale sign for him that you're teetering on the precipice of ecstasy.

Eager to reciprocate the pleasure you bestowed upon him within the confines of the reception, he fervently laps at your tender folds. Simultaneously, his fingers engage in a deft dance around your throbbing clit, orchestrating a symphony of sensations that echoes the pulsating rhythm of desire between you.

With the harmonious fusion of his skilled tongue and nimble fingers, he orchestrates the unraveling of your senses. As ecstasy courses through you, your body convulses in euphoria, your walls clenching around his tongue, and the pulsating rhythm of your clit intensifying under the spell of his fingers. 

Waves of pleasure surge through you, causing your body to quake, and in the throes of ecstasy, you release a high-pitched, strained moan that bears his name—an intimate symphony of pleasure that lingers in the air.

Breathless and overwhelmed, you gasp out his name, a plea woven into the words, “Fuck, Jungkook. I can't stand up anymore.” As he gracefully withdraws from your core, his gaze rises to meet yours, locking in a shared moment of intensity.

He chuckles, the rich timbre of his laughter lingering in the charged air. “I know, babe. Do you want me to fuck you against the wall?”

You draw in a sharp breath, and he keenly observes the subtle clench of your hand, the fabric of the dress tightly gathered within your grasp. 

“Fuck yeah,” An unbridled affirmation escapes your lips, a primal declaration of desire. As he rises to his feet, a surge of urgency propels him to capture your mouth in a hungry kiss. The taste of your own release lingers on his lips, creating an intimate communion of shared pleasure that binds you together in the aftermath of passion.

As he engulfs you in a fervent kiss, the symphony of desire playing out between you, his hands deftly navigate the zipper of his dress pants. With a purposeful movement, he unveils his throbbing cock, stroking it in rhythmic cadence. 

His hands, driven by a primal urgency, seek out the contours of your ass with a possessive intent. “Jump up, babe,” he commands, the resonance of his voice weaving a spell of anticipation. As you obediently jump, he effortlessly lifts you, cocooning you against the wall. 

In a brief struggle against the bulk of your dress, both of you grapple with the fabric, pushing it away from the front of your entwined bodies. A shared chuckle hangs in the air, a lighthearted interlude in the midst of fervor. But as the fabric yields to your efforts, Jungkook seizes the opportunity, moving in with an insatiable hunger to bite at your neck once more. 

With a sultry whisper, he breathes, “I'm gonna fuck a baby into you, would you like that, hmm?” 

The words, pregnant with promise, glide against your ear, and the responsive clench of your legs around his waist speaks volumes. A knowing chuckle escapes him as you endeavor to pull him even closer, the shared desire resonating between you in the charged space.

“Please,” your plea, a desperate yet fervent entreaty, escapes your lips, a poignant melody of desire that resonates in the charged air. The subtle smirk that graces his lips is both a testament to your undeniable need for him and an acknowledgment of the power he holds over your cravings.

With a deliberate touch, he locates his throbbing cock with one hand and skillfully aligns it with your dripping entrance. The tantalizing dance begins as he teases your slick folds with the head of his pulsating dick, creating an electrifying friction that amplifies the anticipation between you two. 

“Gguk, please,” you plead with a mixture of desire and frustration, your voice echoing the urgent need for him to bridge the gap between anticipation and fulfillment. However, he remains steadfast, skillfully teasing your slick folds without granting the entry your body craves. 

With a desperate plea escaping your lips once more, he finally relents. The moment stretches with anticipation before he forcefully thrusts his thick cock into your eager pussy. The collision is met with an audible impact as your back forcefully meets the wall.

He forgoes the customary pause for adjustment, intuitively aware that you relish the exquisite stretch when he enters you so abruptly. Without hesitation, he plunges deep into your core, reaching the furthest recesses, his thick length grazing against your cervix. 

“You’re so big, the stretch feels so good!” 

You gasp breathlessly against his body, overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. The intoxicating stretch sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, a visceral reminder of the intensity between you two. Determined to fully immerse yourself in the sensation, you pant against him, actively striving to ride the wave of pleasure, desperate to fuck yourself on him, the relentless pursuit of ecstasy evident in every ardent movement.

He establishes a relentless rhythm, driving into you with a force that resonates against the unyielding wall of the building. The symphony of your combined panting echoes in the air, a melodic accompaniment to the unbridled passion unfolding. Jungkook, captivated by the primal symphony, savors every delightful noise escaping your lips—a harmonious blend of desire and surrender, heightening the intensity of the fervent connection shared between you.

As he thrusts into you, each powerful motion striking your cervix, he elevates the intensity by trailing one hand up to your neck. With a gentle yet possessive touch, he wraps his fingers around your throat.

He knows you like it dirty and rough, and fuck he does too. 

His taunting words, laced with a playful yet provocative tone, cut through the charged air. “Did you enjoy the little game with your fingers down my pants while Tae was making his speech?” The rhetorical question hangs between you, a teasing challenge that elicits a subtle clenching reaction around him. 

In a sultry revelation, he whispers, “'Next to your bridesmaid and your parents. You naughty girl.” The hand steadying against the wall takes a firm hold of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh with deliberate intent. A resonant moan of pleasure escapes your lips, harmonizing with the rhythmic cadence of his thrusts as he skillfully targets your sweet spot. 

“So naughty,” he breathes, punctuating each fervent thrust with a rhythmic intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “You enjoy getting off in front of your friends, huh?” His words, infused with a seductive blend of desire and provocation, become a tantalizing soundtrack to the relentless grind of his dick into you.

“And getting me off too? Whore,” he seethes into your ear, the heated accusation leaving a scorching trail of desire in its wake. Your response, a shiver against his body, fuels the intensity of the moment. 

As he continues to fuck you with an unrestrained force, your breasts bounce in a mesmerizing rhythm that captivates him. So fucking perfect.

“Stick your tongue out,” he commands, his eyes intently fixed on you as you obediently roll out your tongue, anticipating the act you relish. The charged moment lingers, pregnant with expectation. With a deliberate move, he spits on your waiting tongue, and you, the embodiment of submission, dutifully swallow it.

Damn it, he knows he won't last much longer if he continues to be entranced by the rhythmic bounce of your enticing breasts—they possess an almost hypnotic allure over him. And that tongue of yours, oh, it's pure seduction. 

“And you can't even wait until we reach our hotel suite to be fucked. So fucking needy, and I love it,” he declares, a blend of admiration and desire lacing his words. The deliberate clench of his fingers around your throat follows, a subtle yet potent assertion of control. His gaze remains fixed on your eyes, watching with a predatory intensity as they dilate even more.

As he tightens his grip, the sensation of his fingers constricting around your throat elicits a primal response—your walls clenching around his cock. The synchronized symphony of pleasure and control intertwines, and a guttural groan escapes him, an audible testament to the ecstasy coursing through his veins. 

Driven by an insatiable desire, he redoubles his efforts to fuck you even deeper.

“My filthy wife,” he pants into your ear, the possessive term dripping with desire, a declaration that ignites a primal response within you. The sultry proclamation elicits a moan of his name from your lips, a vocal affirmation of the all-encompassing pleasure coursing through your body. His acute awareness of your nearing climax manifests in the rhythmic clenching around his dick, a tangible sign of the intimate dance between you two.

“Fuck, Gguk. I'm so close again. Fuck!” you pant fervently against the curve of his neck, the words laced with desperation and desire. He senses the mounting intensity in your voice, a symphony of passion reaching its crescendo. 

Yet, he's attuned to the nuances, recognizing the subtle signs that your body, though on the brink of ecstasy, bears the weight of fatigue, having navigated the day in those tantalizing heels. 

“You crave an audience, don't you? Want people to watch you, to hear you,” he moans into your ear, the words a sultry declaration that fans the flames of desire between you two. The acknowledgment of your shared exhibitionist desires ignites a fresh surge of pleasure, prompting an instinctive clench around him.

“Then scream my name, let everyone in the damn party know how damn good I'm fucking you,” he commands, the intensity of his voice sending shivers down your spine. As your walls clench with even greater fervor, pulsating around his dick, a wave of your liquid envelops him, transforming the intimate connection into a slippery dance of shared pleasure.

You unleash his name with a primal scream, the sheer force of your ecstasy reverberating through the open air outside. Your head drops against the curve of his neck, seeking refuge in the haven of his embrace as the waves of pleasure cascade over you.

He relentlessly thrusts his dick into you, the urgency palpable as he seeks his own release. “I'm gonna give you a baby, just like we've always dreamed of.”

“Ahhh, fuck, yes!” The exclamation bursts from your lips, a little too loud, as an uncontrollable surge of pleasure courses through you. Your teeth instinctively seek refuge on his shoulder, sinking into the firm flesh in an unbridled act of both ecstasy and restraint.

“Fuck, babe, I'm gonna come,” he confesses with a guttural moan, each subsequent thrust punctuated with the desperation of impending release. His rhythm stumbles, an involuntary response to the intensity building within him as he hurtles towards the precipice of his orgasm. And then it hits him.

The rhythmic bounce of your tits in his face, the soft and sweet scent that envelops him, and the melodic cadence of your voice—all converge to cast a spell on his senses. In the midst of your lovely moans, he succumbs to the intoxicating blend of sensations, unleashing a torrent of white-hot semen deep inside your spent pussy. 

Panting and gasping, you both struggle for precious breaths, bodies slick with the sheen of sweat acquired in the throes of passion. Amidst the shared exhaustion, a mutual chuckle reverberates between you, an intimate exchange that encapsulates the postcoital atmosphere.

With your head nestled against his, you gaze into the depth of his eyes and confess, “I love you, Gukkie.” The words, tender and raw, bridge the physical intimacy you've just shared with the emotional vulnerability of a heartfelt declaration.

“I love you too. Every damn inch of you, you're so beautiful,” he pants, a declaration infused with both desire and admiration. As he smiles at you, the post-passion glow accentuates the sincerity in his eyes, turning the exchange into a powerful affirmation.

He'll never tire of professing his boundless love and adoration for you, vowing to weave those sentiments into the fabric of each passing day. The promise to remind you, with unwavering devotion, echoes in his commitment to articulate his love every damn day.

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice @kookiewithluv @mikrokookiex @rapmonjoon94 @parkitrighthere

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[rtv-puzzlevision-studios]

THE RTV!STUDIO TOUR: RULES & GUIDELINES

THE OFFICIAL DATE FOR THE START OF THE TOUR (for now) IS APRIL 4TH 2025!

CONTINUATION UNDER THE CUT

If you stop here I will get you Istg /silly

EDIT: Please remember h that submissions closed in February. If you still want to participate, you can do so through voting in the polls, but your character cannot be added anymore!

Of course, every major event has some ground rules and we here at Puzzlevision Studios put much worth on those.

So read carefully through the following rules and be sure to uphold them!

★ HOW THIS WORKS:

This part of the event will mostly consist of writing with a few illustrations from me here and there. I will basically play the narrator throughout all this, summarize your guys actions, write my characters and guide you through the story. 

It all will work the following:

I will post a starting post with a poll at the end of it in which you can vote on how the story continues! Example: Through the poll you choose with department you explore first. So even if your character is not part of the tour, you still have the chance to be a part of this by voting!

You will have a week to draw or write your characters' reactions and actions to my post! Please be sure to add the tag #RTVTour25 and to ping me!! When I saw your post and deemed it to be okay, I will comment with a checkmark! I shall reblog all checkmarked posts a day before my next post!

I will post the next part of the tour after a week. It will contain links of all your reactions and a brief summary of them, as well as the continuation of the story which is influenced by your actions and the poll result.

The same thing repeats. You draw your reactions, I respond, until the end of the tour.

★ TIME DURATIONS:

Time between my posts: 1 week may be subject to change we will see how it goes

Poll Duration: 3 days

★ RULES:

Once again: Ping and add the tag #RTVTour25 in your posts.

Be respectful to one another.

Always check the #RTVTour25 tag to see other people’s posts and possible updates.

Don’t just drag people you may like along. Be mindful if they have their own plans for the tour and try to communicate with them beforehand to check if certain bigger actions are alright! 

Try to stay at least in groups or pairs, so I have a better overview.

Please don’t draw or write yourself doing actions that the poll is supposed to decide before the result is even available.

Your character is NOT invincible. They can be immortal, they can be powerful, but this is RTV’s world. There will be consequences to your actions. Though I won’t of course kill characters off without permission.

Stick to the given time limits.

At the end of the day this event is a massive collaboration. Of course, I have some things planned out, but the story is majorly focused on YOUR decisions.

This can either be a chill tour or a full-scale exploration. It’s up to you guys!

Also, please mind that this is my first time organizing something like this on this scale and alone, so please have mercy with me lol

★ Ok, but…

Can I work together with others? -> Yes, you absolutely can! Interactions are more than okay! But remember communication is key. 

Can I interact with other RTV!AU characters? -> You can! There will be plenty of opportunities for that, in fact. However, I ask you to wait until I introduce them in the story, and not just summon them out of nowhere.

What if I don’t follow the rules/make something contradicting? -> You will not get the checkmark when I see your post, but instead a comment of me explaining to you what you need to change. You will have the rest of the time to do that. If you don’t, I will have to ignore your post.

What if I have to leave/cannot participate? -> No problem, there are several options for you! The easiest being, just not participating at all. This is just for fun, you don’t have to participate! ->However, if you have to leave in the middle of the tour  or have worked together with other people, I ask you to inform them and me before jumping out, so we can make adjustments to our ideas/story and there won’t just be a hole left!

What if I have to sit out a round? -> All cool! I know not everyone has the motivation I have so if you ever need a break, simply take one. Just give me a heads up if your character is currently more heavily involved in the story. If you all need more time we can also make the time limit longer.

Why the polls? -> The polls are for decisions that concern the whole group, for example which department to visit first and so on. It also gives people who haven’t submitted an OC to the event the opportunity to have an impact on the story. 

How are you going to manage this many people? -> I doubt that all 50+ people will participate throughout this entire event, but yes we are a lot.

-> Hence why I decided to keep most of my posts as writings which I can do way faster and also allows me to summarize all your possible actions properly. As mentioned before, I would also love it if you guys stick together in teams or at least pairs so it won’t get too scattered in the end.

How many parts will this have? -> Entirely dependent on your actions. I have ending possibilities planned, but once again, this story is based on your choices. I will probably have to improvise most things so it’s hard to say.

Is it okay if my posts are just writing? -> Absolutely! I know this will probably take motivation and energy and I don’t want to send you all straight onto a burnout. You can write, you can draw, or you can make a mix of it like I do! Up to you!

If there are any other questions, you are more than welcome to message me or comment! I shall add the answered questions to this list.

Rules may be added too if I see it necessary!

[uceyliyahh]

IMPERFECT FOR YOU

summary: Miyori and Jey were in a relationship for three years until she saw him laid up with another girl that wasn’t her and it broke her heart so she decided block him on everything and focus on her career until she gets a text message from him.

This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED

word count: 5964

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Miyori

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

again mdni you have been warned.

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign @li-da-savage @ctinadiva @clubsoft

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic @lilucey @usoinked @christinabae

@celesteheartsjey @charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @justazzi @xbriexx @luvrsluxe @celesteheartsjey @4milly @luuvprincess @yyaktayak @yana3sworld @prettyfilmz

𝖘𝖎𝖊𝖙𝖊

OMNISCIENT The morning sun streamed through the curtains, accompanied by the cheerful songs of birds, as the clock approached eight. Jey and Miyori lay peacefully in bed, his arms encircling her waist, drawing her snugly against the comforting warmth of his body.

Jey was the first to rise, stirring before Miyori. He rubbed his eyes softly to clear his vision and reached for his phone with care, determined not to disturb her slumber. As he scrolled through the notifications, he noticed messages from Jaida and Jimmy, likely something significant from his brother. He read the texts carefully, absorbing every detail.

Twin📌 sent a message

Twin📌: yo uce you need to get Jaida bro she's fucking crashing out banging on the damn door

He let out a deep sigh and rolled his eyes.

iMessage 💬 Jey📌: what?

Twin📌: yeah she came up here early in the damn morning banging on the fucking door of the tour bus me and Trin thought that it was a burglar tryna come in

Jey📌: what did she want?

Twin📌: she was looking for you and crashing out like a fucking maniac Uce

Jey📌: sigh well I'm with Miyori right now at the hotel it's nun much I can do until we leave for the airport today.

Twin📌: you talked to her about coming on tour?

Jey📌:  yeah she agreed to it

Twin📌: FINALLY I GET TO SEE MY SIS

Jey📌: here you go dawg did she leave at least?

Twin📌: yeah, but she said she'll be back if she does imma have Trin handle her bc I can’t

Jey📌: aight well we'll be there soon I'll text you

Twin📌: aight then

Upon messaging his brother about Jaida's alarming texts that seemed to threaten both him and Miyori, he felt a surge of discomfort. Displeased by her tone, he swiftly blocked her and set his phone back down on the small dresser.

He settled into the bed, resting his chin on Miyori's shoulder. As she nestled back against him, he instinctively wrapped his arm around her, planting soft, lingering kisses on her neck. The gentle caress stirred her from her slumber, making her shift slightly.

She pressed herself against him as he drew her nearer, the warmth emanating from his body enveloping her. As he showered her with affection, she instinctively turned onto her back, pulling the sheets around her for added comfort.

Jey gazed at her serene form, lost in slumber, as he gently positioned himself between her legs. He wrapped them around his waist, planting soft kisses along her neck and moving toward her face, eliciting a soft groan from her lips. As her eyes slowly opened, she felt his gentle kisses on her neck. She playfully ran her fingers through his mullet, and he looked up at her with a warm smile. He leaned in to plant a tender kiss on her lips, his gaze locked onto her deep chocolate eyes.

"Good morning beautiful." Jey said.

With a warm smile, she cupped his face in her hands, gently stroking his cheeks with her thumb. Leaning in for another kiss, she paused before saying anything.

"Morning, Mr Fatu." Miyori said as Jey chuckled at her.

"Why you gotta be so formal like we ain't together?" Miyori lifted her shoulders in a casual gesture, locking her gaze with his.

They shared a few more tender kisses before it escalated into a passionate make-out session, their tongues playfully battling for control, intertwining in a sensual dance. Miyori's fingers wove through his hair, pulling him closer as her desire intensified.

She playfully nibbled on the edge of his lips, tugging it back before diving back into the kiss, which brought a smirk to his face.

She playfully nibbled on the edge of his lips, tugging it back before diving back into the kiss, which brought a smirk to his face.

He playfully smacked her backside a few times, eliciting soft whines from her as she gradually moved against him, feeling his arousal pressing against her.

"Ma, we can do this later. we gotta head to airport." Jey murmured between the kiss.

Miyori huffed in frustration, breaking away from the kiss and pouting her lips like a sulky child. While he found her adorable, he wasn't about to give in to her playful antics.

"Un-Un, don't do that. we got to get ready baby girl."

She let out a gentle sigh as she rose from his lap and made her way to the small dresser, eager to see if she had any missed messages or calls. But as she glanced at her phone, her heart skipped a beat; a message from Aaron had appeared, leaving her momentarily frozen in shock.

Last night, as she and Jey were making the headboard thump against the wall, Aaron's text message sent a chill down her spine. Yet, she reassured herself that if she was going on tour with Jey, he wouldn't dare harm her, would he?

She set her down on the small dresser and made her way to the bathroom, where Jey was showering alone, the sound of Miyori entering the room reaching his ears.

Miyori stepped into the shower, the warmth enveloping her as she embraced him, resting her head against his back. It felt soothing and right to be so close.

"You good mamas?" Jey turned his body to face her petite frame as he asked.

She nodded in agreement, her gaze locked onto his deep chocolate eyes. If she were to be truthful with herself, a wave of anxiety washed over her, even after their conversation the previous night. There was an unsettling feeling stirring inside her that she couldn't quite shake off.

She was reluctant to discuss it, yet she knew that keeping it bottled up would only gnaw at her from within.

She averted her gaze from him, shifting to the side to cleanse her body, until he drew her nearer, his rigid arousal pressing against her.

As she lathered her body, she felt his soft kisses brushing against her neck, holding her close to him, ensuring she wouldn’t slip away.

He encircled her throat with his hand and pressed his lips against hers, initiating a slow and tender kiss that took her by surprise for a moment. However, it didn't take long for her to respond and get lost in the moment.

As they fervently kissed in the shower, she gently stroked his face with her free hand.

With a swift motion, she twisted her body to meet his gaze as he lifted her by the thighs, pressing her against the chilly shower wall behind them, eliciting a deep sigh from her at the sensation.

His lips glided along her jawline, descending to her neck as he gently sucked, both of them becoming lost in the moment, captivated by the soft moans that slipped from her lips.

Her fingers wove through his curls, pulling him nearer as she craved more, yet the reality of their tight schedule loomed over her, reminding her that they wouldn't be able to see this through.

"You so lucky we are on a time schedule, if we weren't I would've fuck you in the shower."

"God, you're such a horny specimen." Miyori said while chuckling.

"I'm only this way for you Ma." She gave him an exasperated look while they both continued to shower together.

☞ At last, they arrived at their destination, disembarking from the plane with their bags in tow as they strolled toward the exit. As they walked, a surge of anxiety washed over Miyori, her mind racing with the fear that he might have grown weary of her during their tour.

Lately, that topic has been weighing heavily on her mind, particularly after their recent conversation about it. It continues to trouble her, yet she prefers to wait for him to mention it first, as she feels her energy is not quite right.

As Jey chatted on the phone with his twin brother, arranging for him to pick them up from the airport, Miyori was busy texting Jasmine. Her best friend had been anxious about her ever since the incident involving her and Aaron.

iMessage 💬 Mimi💓: Hey bestie Jazzy💜: hey girly did yall make it? Mimi💓: yeah we just landed in ATL just waiting on Trin and Jon to come pick us up Jazzy💜: I bet Josh couldn't keep his hands off of you huh? 😭 Mimi💓: girl please yk how he is whenever it comes to me Jazzy💜: something wrong bestie? Mimi💓: how did you know? Jazzy💜: you're my best friend ofc but what's on your mind? Mimi💓: what if he gets tired of me Jazzy? Jazzy💜: of what? y'all two being together 24/7? Mimi💓: yeah, like I'm just worried you know and then Jaida around here like a crazy ass ex so I'm not sure Jazzy💜: I understand bestie but you can't let your mind and all of that negativity get to you he didn't work this hard just to play in your face again Mimi Mimi💓: that's true I didn't make him work hard for nun Jazzy💜: EXACTLY keep that nigga in check and feining for you and only you Mimi💓: now I feel better it's nice venting to you about things bestie Jazzy💜: that's what I'm here for girl but go on now before he starts trippin' Mimi💓: I'll text you later bestie luv you ❤️ Jazzy💜: love you more

After messaging Jasmine, she noticed that Jey was still chatting on the phone with her twin brother. To pass the time, she chose to keep herself occupied. While engaged in her activities, a message suddenly appeared on her screen.

She glanced at the name, fully aware it was Aaron behind the menacing messages directed at her. With everything going on in Atlanta, she simply didn’t have the bandwidth to handle his nonsense.

Pumpkin 🧡 sent a message

Pumpkin 🧡: you can't run away from me forever Mimi we were supposed to be together forever maybe if you weren't in your head so much and asking me questions we wouldn't be here

Miyori sighed in exasperation at his message before blocking him, determined to avoid any further communication. She felt secure with Jey—at least, that’s what she believed. As she mindlessly scrolled through her social media, she noticed Jey approaching her, standing right in front of her, prompting her to lift her gaze to meet his.

"What? Is there something on my face?" She questioned him.

"Nah, you just look hella pretty mamas. I can't admire you?" Jey spoke gently while Miyori let out a soft laugh at his expense.

"You can admire me all you want sir." Jey leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on her lips, which prompted her to reciprocate, leading to a flurry of sweet kisses before he finally drew back.

A smile spread across her face as she watched him, aware that his mind was racing with countless thoughts about their tour together. She hoped he wouldn’t grow weary of her constant presence. There was something special about their time apart; it made their reunions feel more intimate, as if each moment together was a cherished gift rather than a routine encounter.

At that moment, a honk echoed from outside, drawing their attention to Jim and Trin, who were parked at the airport entrance, eagerly awaiting their arrival. As soon as they stepped out, Jey and Jim jumped in to assist with their luggage, which was quite manageable. Meanwhile, Miyori took a moment to inform Kelly that she would be stepping away for a bit to handle some personal matters.

"Finally I get to spend time with my girl!" Trinity exclaimed with a smile on her face.

"Yeah, me too girl like goodness. We barely get to see each other." Miyori replied.

"Hell yeah, girl you get to see it all especially all of the places we be going to. you're going to love it."

Miyori grinned at her friend as they spotted the guys arriving in a car, glancing back at them as if they were mere children. In a playful response, both girls stuck out their tongues, prompting the guys to laugh at their antics just as Jimmy started to drive away.

The car journey was enjoyable, filled with good vibes as they jammed to the tunes from Jim and Trin's playlist. Meanwhile, Miyori sat by the window, her gaze fixed on the sun illuminating the sky, making her dark chocolate skin radiate with a heavenly glow, as if she were an angel.

As she sat in the car, surrounded by everyone engrossed in their own activities, she noticed her phone buzzing with a message from Jey.

Joshua🖤 sent a message

Joshua🖤: you good back there mamas?

iMessage 💬 Mimi💓: yeah I'm fine just enjoying the sun being in my face that's all

Joshua🖤: you been quiet ever since we hopped in the car is there something you wanna tell me?

Mimi💓: no? not at the moment until we are on the tour bus

Joshua🖤: so you basically do have something to tell me then😭

Mimi💓: omg yes I do but I rather discuss in private also do we have our own bedroom?

Joshua🖤: you'll see when we get there Ma can't be telling you everything

Mimi💓: ughhh you are no fun Joshy😓

Joshua🖤: ew don't ever call me that again please 😭

Mimi💓: what? Joshy?

Joshua🖤: stop it Mimi

Mimi💓: or what?

Jey glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of Miyori, who wore a playful smirk on her lips. She delighted in teasing him, pushing his buttons just to see him get worked up.

Joshua🖤: you so nasty mamas

Mimi💓: I'm only nasty for you tho Papa

Joshua🖤: mhm just wait until we be alone together then you can show me how nasty you is

Mimi💓: I will I'm not backing down

Joshua🖤: yeah, we'll see Ma

Miyori immediately smacked her lips and rolled her eyes at his message. He believed he was superior in being dominant, yet she had him acting like a total fool, just as Jimmy had pointed out, all because of her fierce attitude.

Mimi💓: don't act like I didn't have you acting like a complete fool over me just to win me over having you in a mess don't play with me Joshua

Joshua🖤: don't play with me Miyori there you go talking reckless you ain't gonna be like that until I fuck the shit outta you

Mimi💓: you ain't gonna do shi nigga

Joshua🖤: 🤨 you wanna bet that up?

Mimi💓: mhm I do

Joshua🖤: aight bet don't be runnin from me either

Mimi💓: I won't I promise you that

She was fully aware that she was completely lying about not running away, especially when it came to him. In his presence, all she could do was feel twisted up like a pretzel, and she knew he would surely make her regret what she had said.

Miyori chose to shut her eyes and catch some sleep until they reached the tour bus they were all sharing, as Jim and Trin were scheduled to pick them up from the airport.

☞ MIYORI Trin jolted me awake, announcing that we had finally arrived at the tour bus after what felt like an eternity on the road. As I stepped out of the car, I carefully removed my AirPods from my ears and tucked them into my PodCase.

I was taken aback by the sheer size of the tour bus. As I watched Jim and Jey unloading our luggage, Trin and I stepped inside, where she began to show me around the bus and its surroundings.

She gave me a tour of the bedroom that Jey and I will be sharing, along with her and Jim's room. The entire bus exuded a cozy atmosphere, making me feel as if I had returned home once more.

The bathrooms are tastefully adorned in a soft light grey, complemented by stunning marble tile floors. I found myself captivated, my imagination wandering to playful thoughts about Jey and me.

'This is how they be living? If I would've know about this four years ago me and him would probably still be together as we speak.'

I settled into the room, switching on the TV as I stretched out on the bed, making myself comfortable for what I knew would be a lengthy journey to the next state. As I relaxed, I heard Jey enter the bedroom, dragging our luggage and setting it down beside the closet door, his gaze fixed on me.

He had caught me lounging in one of my favorite positions, one leg stretched out and the other propped up, my head resting on the pillow as I immersed myself in my show, completely oblivious to his presence in the room.

He removed his shirt, revealing his toned physique as he closed the door behind him. Climbing into bed beside me, he enveloped me in his strong arms, drawing me close to his warm body, the heat emanating from his sun-kissed skin.

I could sense his firm arousal pressing against me as he trailed soft, wet kisses along my neck. In that moment, I realized I had crossed a line by speaking so boldly to him in the car, and I was definitely in over my head.

I decided not to focus on him this time. I was determined not to surrender my attention so readily as I usually do, allowing him to take charge. This time, I wanted to take the reins myself.

"You gon' keep ignoring me?" He says as he unbuttoned my shorts sliding his hand down inside of my laced panties and began rubbing my pussy.

I rolled my eyes in the back of my head while he was doing that making me bite the bottom of my lips as he used his available hand wrapping it around my throat gaining some control over me.

I managed to gain control over the situation as I slide my hand down his shorts and boxers guiding my hand up and down his shaft causing a hum to escape his pretty lips since he wanted to play so much with this.

His hand tightened around my throat, "Keep playing with me Mimi I won't hesitate to fuck you." His voice was deep and raspy.

I had a smirk appearing on my face as I took his hand out of my shorts pinning him down on the bed which caught him off guard seeing my eyes become dark filled with nothing but lust.

I pulled down his shorts along with his boxers seeing his harden member spring up hitting him in the stomach it was so long, and thick my mouth was watering at the sight of it.

I got on my knees and began moving his shaft up and down seeing pre-cum glistening out from it as he gazed down at me with his lustful eyes.

"I want you to submit to me Papa." I said as I began going down on him.

(MINI SMUT WARNING - MIYORI AND JEY) Miyori was bobbing her head up and down along with her fingers up and down on his shaft swirling her tongue around the head of it hearing his precious moans escaping his lips watching her take control.

He had his hand wrapped around Miyori's hair as she continued to go down on him he was trying his hardest not to thrust his hips inside of her mouth but he couldn't help it: it felt so good.

He watched her take him completely inside of her throat as Miyori had relaxed her throat as much as she could gazing up at him, she began to show his balls some loving sucking on each individual balls while stroking his dick up and down while he threw his head back onto the headboard

"Just like that mamas, oh fuck just like that." He moaned.

Miyori brushed her thumb around the head of his cock making him clench his thighs together while rolling his eyes in the back of his head, she went back to sucking him off causing her to gag but relaxed her throat in the process.

She swallowed him whole and half-gagged enjoying the searing sensation she was experiencing at the moment. She had him twitching and shaking due to her tongue caressing down his shaft.

"Mamasss, ohhh fuck. keep sucking me off just like that baby girl..." his guttural moan escaped his lips feeling her hands rubbing against his chest and throat which caught him off guard for a second because she never like this before.

She moaned against his dick feeling all of her spit drooling down on his shaft making a complete mess on him feeling her tongue gliding down his dick.

As she relaxed her throat she allowed him to put a few more inches down her throat taking all of him as much as she could.

She had a good rhythm going while feeling his dick twitch inside of her mouth as she felt her pussy being soaking wet and throbbing waiting any moment to just pounce on him like a lion.

Her thumb kept brushing up against his sensitive tip leaving him feeling like he was on cloud nine for a moment. "Fuck, ma, fuck." Jey felt like he was losing himself right then and there.

His cock brushed against her throat feeling his balls tightened as she ground onto him, his cock had a slight curve to him banging against her throat but she didn't mind it at all.

All you could hear were sloppy noises coming from her lips as all of her drool was trickling down her face she love the way he sounded and wasn't afraid to show it either.

Miyori wanted to show how dominant she could be without him taking control of the situation she wanted him to be submissive to her and let him give her his body and soul.

His dick twitched again causing Jey to roll his eyes in the back of his head gripping onto the sheets tightly.

She removed her lips from his aching cock, stroking his dick up and down while staring into his eyes innocently smiling at him in the process, "you gonna cum for me papa?" She asked as her tone changed into a soft voice.

He felt a lump in his throat as he swallowed it before speaking.

"Yes, I'm finna nut mamas. let me nut mamas please."

Miyori liked the way he was begging for her and only her she's probably going to be embarrassed about this due to Jimmy and Trin being on the bus.

She continued to stroke his dick up and down watching him lose control as he gripped onto her shoulders tightly.

"Fuckk I'm finna nut baby girl, fuckkk." Jey had pushed down her head as his warm seeds filled her throat up with ease causing her to swallow the savory flavor.

He kept her like this until he was done unloading his warm seeds inside of her throat making sure that she swallowed every single bit of it.

Miyori pulled away from his cock making that popping effect come out as she kissed his dick smiling at him in the process while his breath was shaky chuckling at her.

SMUT OVER.

As I rose from my knees and stepped into the bathroom to wash my face, I noticed that my lips had taken on a purple hue, and a sharp pain lingered at the back of my throat.

I suddenly heard a loud banging on the door from outside, reminiscent of a police raid, which startled me. I could hear Jimmy shouting for one of us to step outside; it sounded urgent, as if he had something significant to share that required our immediate attention.

As Jey continued to recover from the recent events, I took a moment to dry my face after washing it. I then stepped out of the bedroom to see what was going on, leaving Jey alone in our room.

I made my way over to Jimmy and Trin, eager to find out what was going on.

"What's going on?" I inquired while Jimmy gestured toward the door, prompting me to glance outside and spot her standing there with her arms crossed.

Upon realizing my presence among them, it was clear that her anger flared at the sight of me there instead of her, as she erupted into a furious shout.

"what the fuck is she doing here?! Where's Jey!" Jaida shouted.

"Girl, I would advise you to stop fucking yelling and what are you doing here banging on the door like that?"

She smacked her lips at me while rolling her eyes, "I don't have to answer to you bitch actually I should come in there and beat your ass you slut."

I gathered my hair into a bun and removed my charm bracelets and earrings while instructing Jimmy to open the door. Just then, Jey grabbed my arm, pulling me back as I gazed up at him.

He shook his head, treating me like a child attempting to dive into trouble that was best avoided at the moment, while I let out a deep whine.

"Not today mamas, I don't need you whooping her ass she's not worth it let me handle this." Jey said as I nodded my head standing behind him.

As he pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead before stepping out to take care of Jaida, I found myself merely a spectator, watching the scene unfold before me.

I still harbored doubts about him, a fact he was unaware of since we had already discussed it previously, making it pointless to bring it up again.

Trinity noticed that my energy felt different as she settled beside me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. I met her gaze with a smile.

"Girl, I know that look what's wrong?" Trinity said.

"It's nothing Trin I promise." I said avoiding her question.

She shot me that unmistakable parental glare, and I let out a heavy sigh, fully aware that there was no escaping this situation.  "girl don't tell me you're overthinking things about this? This would be a great opportunity for you and Jey to speak on what happened."

"It's not even just that, I just feel like he'll get tired of me during all of this you know? Then I'm dealing with Aaron too?" I replied.

"Girl what? I don't think Jey wouldn't get tired of you hell if I'm being honest he didn't stop talking about you when y'all two were apart."

I wished I could trust her words, but deep down, I knew she was likely just saying that because he’s her brother-in-law. All I could do was nod along, feeling nauseated as I watched him and Jaida go at each other, their voices rising in a heated exchange.

I informed Trin and Jon that I was going to return to the bedroom to wrap up my show. They noticed that my energy had been off throughout the entire conversation between Jaida and Jey.

"She good Trin?"

"I don't know her energy seemed a bit off today Jerdy, she's worried about your brother."

"Aye that's something they gotta talk about we don't need no more drama on this tour."

I closed the door softly and settled back into the same position, focusing on my show. Lately, I’ve been feeling a bit off, perhaps because I’m concerned that he might grow weary of everything happening around us.

Should I keep my distance just in case his mood changes? I mean I agreed to this so that I wouldn't have to deal with Aaron's bullshit.

"No, remember what Jasmine said Mimi. Keep that nigga in check and feining over you." I said to myself while my eyes were glued onto the TV.

☞ OMNISCIENT As everyone prepared to depart for the next state after watching Trinity's match tonight, Miyori made her way toward the tour bus. Just then, she spotted two familiar faces peeking out from behind a car parked next to the bus.

As she approached, she realized it was Jey and Jaida deep in conversation once more. Curiosity bubbled within her—what could they possibly be discussing this time? However, not wanting to stir the pot, she decided to walk by, catching a hint of their dialogue before stepping onto the tour bus.

"C'mon Jey, you know you miss me already." Jaida said.

Jey let out a soft laugh, resting his hands on his hips. "Look imma need you to stop showing up and popping up here aight? I don't miss you at all."

"You're saying that now, but will be texting me the next day."

Jey rolled his eyes, then snatched up his backpack and suitcase as he made his way to the tour bus.

"Are you that delusional Jaida?" Jey questioned her.

"Only for you, you know where home is boy." As she climbed into her car and drove off, Jey let out a sigh while boarding the tour bus. He hadn't seen Miyori all day and couldn't help but wonder where she might be.

As he pushed open the bedroom door, he found her sprawled on the bed, absorbed in her phone as she scrolled through social media, seemingly oblivious to his arrival. Something felt amiss; she usually showered him with affection, lavishing him with kisses.

He set his backpack and suitcase beside the closet door, moving in her direction. In an instant, he seized her ankles, pulling her toward the edge of the bed, catching her by surprise as their eyes locked.

Without giving her a chance to object, he lifted her effortlessly, tucking her legs around his waist. He settled her onto his lap, his hands securely encircling her waist.

"I haven't seen you all day where were you at?" Jey asked.

"I was in Trinity's locker room meeting her friends and their husband's." She replied.

"What's wrong Mimi?" She gazed at him with a comforting smile, trying to convey that all was well, but he wasn't convinced. Her behavior had been notably distant ever since his conversation with Jaida earlier that day. "Mimi"

"Yes?"

"Imma ask you again, what's wrong?"

"J-Josh..I-I..."

"I'm not playing Mimi what's up?"

Miyori let out a heavy sigh, realizing that escaping this situation with him was impossible due to his keen perception. "I'm starting to think that I should just head back home for bit." He raised an eyebrow at her when she said that.

"We just got here and you want to go back home why?" Miyori kept her reasons for wanting to return home to herself, even though she was fully aware of them, despite Aaron's wild antics all around her.

She averted her gaze, focusing on anything but him, prompting him to gently lift her chin, compelling her to meet his intense gaze.

"Talk to me Mimi, don't be like that."

She sighed softly, "what's the point of speaking on it if we already discussed it last night? I don't want you to sound like a broken record, I—" Miyori paused for a moment to collect herself before rising from his lap, turning her back to him as she stood up.

"Is there anything I need to know about you two?" Jey had raised an eyebrow at her in confusion of what she meant by that.

Suddenly, it dawned on him that her behavior stemmed from the events of earlier that day and witnessing their conversation once more. Without hesitation, he rose from the bed, enveloping her waist in his arms and resting his neck gently against her shoulders.

"Mamas." He called out to her.

"Just tell me and let me know so I can leave I don't wanna waste my time."

"Mimi there's nothing happening between Jaida and I—I told you we are done."

"Show me your phone."  Jey followed instructions, pulling his phone from his pocket and handing it to her.

Miyori was aware that the password to his phone was her birthday. As she began to browse through his gallery and messages, Jey observed her actions closely. He understood that her intentions weren't rooted in insecurity; rather, she was seeking reassurance and clarity.

That's when she had seen a message from Jaida on his IMessage.

Jaida: you really gonna leave me for her?

"What was this all about?" Miyori asked showing him the message.

"That's when I broke up with her and she kept texting me from different numbers."

"So what was yall talking bout out there before you came in here messing with me?" Her voice carried a firm tone, yet it wasn't disrespectful. Jey found it unappealing, but he grasped the reasoning behind her words.  "Mimi, watch that tone of yours."

"I'm not I have the right to know Josh aight? I don't need you playing in my fucking fac—" Jey grasped her throat gently, pressing his lips against hers to silence her.

His tongue danced within her mouth, savoring every inch, before he shifted his lips to her neck, showering her with soft, lingering kisses.

"You tryna keep me in check or what?" He murmured softly.

"Yes, that's what I'm doing. I don't have time to be playing these games with you Joshua." She says

"You know I love you and only you, I meant what I said last night Mimi."

She scoffed while rolling her eyes, "actions speak louder than words papa you didn't answer my question."

"I told her she was delusional and she should stop popping up here."

Miyori heard those words just before stepping onto the tour bus. She let out a deep sigh, attempting to break free from Jey's hold, but he only responded by tightening his arm around her waist and keeping his hand firmly around her throat.

"She doesn't have nothing on you mamas, she isn't like you. She don't be getting me all riled up like this like you do baby girl." With that Jey had placed her hand on his harden member as she gripped it gently with her smalls hands hearing a slight groan escape his lips.

"I feel like you're just saying that." He immediately shook his head.

"Mimi I told you last night I want this to work out again and I wanna do better for us I'm serious."

She gazed into his eyes, searching for honesty in his words. Jey had always been a man of his word, steadfast in his promises, and as Mimi peered deeply into his warm, chocolate-brown eyes, she could sense that truthfulness shining through.

"Show me. Show me how much you love me and only me." Miyori said.

Without a moment's hesitation, Jey lifted her by the thighs, gently laying her back onto the bed. His large hands intertwined with her smaller ones, while he nestled himself between her legs. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, and they began to kiss passionately. As Miyori pulled her hands away to tug at his waistband, he swiftly pinned her wrists above her head, locking eyes with her in an intense gaze.

He planted soft, lingering kisses along her jawline, gradually descending to her neck, leaving his mark and eliciting a soft moan from her lips.

"Be patient mamas, daddy gon' take care of you aight?"

Throughout the remainder of the evening, she and Jey lost themselves in each other, their passion igniting as if the world outside ceased to exist. The sounds of their fervent intimacy echoed through the tour bus, drowning out everything else.

Jey had her in backshots with her back bend over down to her stomach giving him more leverage to go deeper and deeper inside of her inner walls.

"Keep taking this dick mamas, this is all yours." Jey grunted.

"All m-mines?" Miyori asked while stumbling on her words due to his intense thrust.

"All fucking yours baby girl, all yours. Jaida doesn't compare to you Ma. Gimme' this fucking pussy girl."

Once more, they found themselves swept away by the excitement when Miyori's phone chimed, casting a flash on the ceiling. Jey quickly snatched it up, unlocking the screen to discover a message from Jasmine, along with a text from an unfamiliar number.

Jazzy💜 sent a message

Jazzy💜: Mimi Aaron is sending me scary messages about harming me if I didn't tell him where you were at I'm scared.

Unknown number sent a message

Unknown number: Sweetheart I didn't find you at your house nor at your job I tired to ask Kelly where you at but she didn't give me a answer not even your own best friend didn't give it to me, don't worry tho imma find you and kill that mutt of yours.

IMPERFECT FOR YOU.

a/n: heyyy im back with another update! I've been resting since i got my tooth pulled out 2 days ago so I really haven't been on here as much lately. Buuut what do yall think will happen next? Will Jey tell Miyori and handle it or will something bad happen?

But I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments below ⬇️

STAY UCEY

[barisolsdaughter]

[OOC]

IMPORTANT

(TLDR: Weird 'powerscaler' from r/evillious has been sending asks and comments to people on tumblr and on ao3 about their personal drama with "mariathewitchaddict", as well as comparing EC to IRL historical figures (in a "[character]'s kill count is huge but it's nowhere near as bad as [historical figure]'s" way). Might be attention-seeking or too involved in it at this point. Advice is to block the one tumblr account of theirs that we know of, @/sadhussus8976, as well as blocking them if they send anon asks. They might use a VPN to still reach you, though.)

MORE INFO UNDER THE CUT

Hello again, everyone!! This is, yet again, a PSA! This time, about something a lot different than the last one I posted.

There's someone making rounds here on tumblr who is called 'the powerscaler'. They're someone who often compares Evillious characters to IRL historical figures, as well as, apparently, other character from different medias.

I've been aware of that person's existance since before I even made my rp blog — They were a bit of a hot topic at the r/evillious subreddit, which I sometimes checked before I used Tumblr as much as I do (I do still check it sometimes though). They often made posts about Riliane specifically, and would compare her to IRL historical dictators, though they were always saying that she "wasn't as bad as them".

This person also has some kind of disagreement with someone called "mariathewitchaddict" (I'm not sure what platform this second person is from, nor am I sure about the nature of their disagreement and what caused it), often mentioning them in their posts.

Recently, 'the powerscaler' has gotten to tumblr, and, with the wave of RP/ask blogs, has been sending strange asks to many of those blogs, such as calculating Riliane's kill count and comparing it to actual historical figures', sent to @/ask-clarith-netsuma, and talking about their personal drama with "mariathewitchaddict", sent to @/malicemaskman, and asks in a similar vein to that first one also were sent to a few of the blogs but they were not publicly answered (example: this one, also sent to @/malicemaskman, after an anon who was definitely not me told the mod of the blog about their reddit history).

Even leaving aside the RP blogs, they have also been seen commenting on ao3 fics about such topics. (Which is why I am, once again, using the main tag for a PSA, aside from bringing in more awareness).

Now, a few of us have also found that a new reddit account is doing something similar, except instead of comparing characters to real historical figures, they're comparing them to Dragon Ball characters, which is... Arguably better. They have also sent asks about said comparisons to a few blogs here on tumblr. We have a suspiscion that it's run by the same person, aka, 'the powerscaler', as they have a history of making multiple reddit accounts. They have also branched out to more characters, such as Nemesis and Seth.

One of the asks sent was this one, comparing Riliane to Vegeta, sent to @/rilianeofevil.

If that is them, however, that means that they are able to and willing to use VPNs in order to circumvent tumblr's anon block system, which works through IP blocking, since they have also sent asks to blogs that have blocked the confirmed 'powerscaler's IP'.

Either way, my best recommendation is to PLEASE block them. We think they might be either genuinely too invested in the comparisons or doing it for attention, so giving them that would be a big mistake. I already debated making this post because I didn't want to give them even more attention, but (with the help of one of the members of the rilianeverse discord server lol), I decided to make this to raise awareness.

I already have them blocked from all 4 of my blogs from when I found their tumblr posts, their account, as far as I know, is @/sadhussus8976. 'Powerscaler', if you're reading this from an alt, I will not hesitate to block it from this blog (and my other ones) as well if you send me anything. ^_^

[ttec77]

Characters I've drawn so far in modern clothes

[kyouka-supremacy]

(╥﹏╥)

[crehador]

i don't know if i think it's really funny or kind of a shame that many people are going to know tadaima okaeri solely as "the omegaverse bl" when it's actually such a sweet slice-of-life about community, family, the struggles of the older generation to understand the younger and vice versa, recovering from social isolation and how recursive that recovery can be, forging lasting friendships as adults, and so on. it's so wholesome and drama-free that it barely has any plot to speak of, but what it lacks in plot it makes up for in themes and man. what beautiful themes

[ssreeder]

I started reading this like 4 days ago, time has blurred together. I have not slept over 5 and a half hours of sleep in that time, I had to get up at 6 for something and was going 'just one more chapter' several times until it was 2am. The only thing that I can think about is LIAB, I am quickly losing my sanity to Zukka and the prison camp. I came here for a fun time, a good time and the sheer amount of angst that I had heard this had. And, I was certainly not lied to.

I am the type of person to read hard core angst. Impaling, torture , doesn't even phase me anymore (bit concerning but ignore that), I have taken to the blank word document to get that sinking, queasy feeling when the angst gets really hard core. First few chapters of this had me captivated and then Zuko came into it, *Chefs kiss*

I can't read long fics because I don't have the attention span, but for this I make an exception, also if you read it all in like 4 days the attention span doesn't have time to run out! I am on the 3 part, chapter 2 and I actively plan to binge read it tonight. Do I have school in the morning? Yes. Am I still going to stay up until 1 in the morning reading this and make up for my lack of sleep with caffeine? Also yes.

I really hope that Jet dies in this, I hope that he has a really anti-climatic death as well, like he falls off a slightly too high ledge. NO ONE and I mean NO ONE gets to separate MY GAYS LIKE THAT BECAUSE HE JUST HAD TO TELL FONG THAT ZUKO WAS AT THE BLOODY CAMP!

and the Forest Lesbians, may they live forever in the local folk lore about two witches that lived the forest and used the power of being gay to cure people.

thank you for writing this, it has really made me happy reading this even though my favourite gays are getting traumatised (more traumatised than usual for Zuko). I have only been reading this, my friends are concerned about me since I don't think I have willingly left the house in... *looks down at fingers, realises I don't have enough fingers to count this* umm... too long!

*holds your hands* how are you doing friend??

your ask had me both nervous and excited haha & the greatest thing about responding to this a few days late is that you’ve probably finished it by now haha. I feel sorry for your sleep schedule but I also don’t feel bad haha <3

I’m glad LIAB met your expectations in the angst, it’s probably one of the more angsty/ darker zukka fics & it’s probably going to get worse lol. (Not for zukka specifically, everyone gets to join this time) But you’ll see… if I can hold your attention until the end haha.

as for your Jet thoughts I’m sure you found out what happened to him by now ;) <3

thanks for this amazing ask seriously you’re great & you deserve to get yourself a treat for taking the time to send me this haha YOURE AWESOMEEEEEE

[dawntheduckrb]

I'll stop posting wips eventually but it's been five days since I've said anything and I don't want anyone to think I'm dead/dying/stuck in a ditch and withering away, so here's 10% of the reason I disappeared (the duck is stuck in rendering hell) (and my little baby laptop is screaming at me every time I open up this file)

I might still be mostly lurking for a little bit so please be patient with me in the meantime 🙏🙏

[izzy-b-hands]

Didn't think the 1989 version of The Woman In Black would be scarier than the one with Dan Radcliffe in it

I was Wrong flkjdsafkldsja, but I'm delighted to have been wrong. I had missed getting scared with more practical effects/careful timing of things in the background of shots appearing and disappearing, and this one scratches that itch well.

[itstimeforstarwars]

Taking a break from the old mutual's whumptober novella because my old friend is sososo good at whump and emotion and if the boy gets hurt I WILL cry about it.

[scarameownya]

tags ran out so im continuing it here JAJSJSDJJD

on a second thought i should have tagged this as nsfw before the tags ran out 💀

#GRANDMA LOST HER SON AND DAUGHTER IN LAW... STOP IT STOP I DONT WANNA GET EMOTIONAL JAIL JAIL FOR YOU

#"grandma filled the roles so well even if his heart bled, not too much blood spilled out" thats its im stealing your brain this is actually insane writing and wording IM IN LOVE

#NO NO NOT HIM REGRETTING NOT BEING TO HELP HER AS A CHILD NOBONONOON

#AND HER DEATH HELLO ?!?!?! ok and ik u didnt intended for it to be but id like to think him brushing off people's remarks

#are somewhat in a way him grieving cause hes knows all of it and in a way because he knows his child self could not reciprocate all of it

#DO NOT TORTURE ME MORE WITH HIM READING HIS PARENTS LETTER AND FUCKING CRYING RIV I WILL KILL YOU HELLO IM ?!?@?@?@?#?@#*×*

#ALSO AUAGAHAHAHA I LOVE THEIR BANTER SO MUCH OMFGGGGGGGG THE FACT THAT HE HAS SOMEONE TO SHARE AND CALL A HOME WITH AUGAHSHSHD

#als his thought process during the smut scene... :[[ poor lil brain boy.. he's literally so happy at how you are so perfect for him

#and just how whole you made him feel... wahhh :"[[[[ riv should get her device taken away signing a petition rn //lh

#THE LETTER AT THE END ?!?!?! OMFG HAITHAM YOU CHEESY ASS //POS ALL POS HES JUST SO ?!?!?! SO ?!?@@??!

#seeing haitham this gentle is insane omfg riv i love love LOVE your version of him so much-- lowkey got me blushing at it like-- STOP

#ALL IN ALL HELLO ?!?!?! THIS IS INCREDIBLE IM LITERALLY SO HOOKED IN EVERY WORDS AND THEYRE ALL SO WELL WRITTEN

#eating your brain i need that nutrients PLS I JUST ?!?!?! I JUST LOVE THIS SO MUCH OMFG UAHSUAHDHSDHDHFHDH

#what if i die for just liking this too much-- IM SORRY BUT JUST ?!?!? EVERYTHING FLOW SO SMOOTHLY AND AND ITS SO NATURAL AND I JUST LOVE SEEING IT PLAYED OUT FROM START TO FINISH

#whens the wedding this should be at 28 ill be waiting //lh

like a lotus in spring, you are mine to bloom — ft. alhaitham

synopsis: at twenty one, you’re just a girl he meets as he trains for the role of scribe. at twenty four, you’ve become everything he loves in this world. after three years of knowing you and nearly two and a half decades of life, alhaitham finally realizes why his father left letters for his mother instead of just saying the words outloud

❤︎ word count: 7.7k words — we find ourselves here in the same old situation again, i see LOL pls give it a chance though!! plssss

❤︎ before you read: female reader ; 18+ content — not suitable for minors ; not proof read ; strangers to friends to lovers ; mutual pining but not at the same time for a bit (he falls first <3) ; jealous alhaitham ; hinted drunk sex ; getting together + love confessions ; alhaitham character story spoilers + references to his grandmother and parents ; semi-clothed unprotected sex ; no prep ; some nipple play ; creampie ; the cringiest love letter at the end LOL

❤︎ comments: guys every time i write alhaitham it’s so corny and cheesy but . he is my fav genshin guy of all time i deserve to be allowed this okay

TWENTY ONE. 

You’re still a student when you first meet Alhaitham. (Not a student for much longer, but a student all the same. With a little luck on your side and good graces from your darshan’s sage on your thesis, you’re expected to graduate in just a few short months.)

You don’t have the best first meet. In fact, your impression of Alhaitham starts off entirely on the wrong foot. 

He’s newly graduated, just freshly rewarded a degree for his (impressive) efforts, and is now well on his way to training for the role of scribe—you heard he was offered far more prestigious roles, but for some reason, a genius like him settled for a role like that. You try not to judge. People have their passions, after all, and if that’s what he wants to do, well…who are you to make comments? (But amongst a school that only houses the brilliant, Alhaitham is, very undoubtedly, a standout. It’s hard to stand out in a school filled with only the best minds, but he manages to do so with ease. Sometimes, you’re almost jealous. You can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t aim a little higher than he does.)

He trains in the house of Daena. His first order of training is to fact-check ordinance drafts using books so he can better get the hang of drafting them himself in the future. You’re also in the House of Daena to find the last book for your thesis—after weeks of begging, you’re finally granted access to the restricted section to find it. 

And you do. Except your palm meets warm skin instead of the cold leather cover of a book. You pause, glancing up as sharp, teal eyes meet your gaze, staring at you expectantly as if you should be the one letting go. But you need this book. It’s the final research element to finish your thesis, and you’d like to be done with it. End of story. No matter how devastatingly handsome the man (because he is handsome, you’ll admit at least that much), you will not be handing over the last, final key to your academic freedom.

“Um, excuse me,” you say politely, “I was kind of reaching for that.”

“As was I,” he says, staring at you with a bored, almost uncaring expression. Your eyes narrow. “Now, if you’d please kindly take your hand off of mine.”

“I believe it should be you taking your hand off of mine,” you correct, huffing as you add stubbornly, “I reached for it first.”

He blinks at you, bland and a little irritated, as he points out, “Your hand is on top of mine, which means I reached the book first.”

Well.

Maybe if you were feeling particularly patient, you’d be inclined to admit that, yes, he does have a point. But stubbornness, combined with pure exhaustion, has you at your wit's end, and if you have to play the role of a difficult student, then so be it. You’re pretty sure you need it more, and you’re probably a much speedier reader anyway. You’ll have it done and returned in no time.

This guy, on the other hand…he doesn’t look too bright. You’re not willing to take your chances and let him walk off with a book that you might never see again.

“I started reaching for it first,” you scowl, “you just sped up your hand once you saw me. I should get it.”

“Unlikely,” he scoffs, “I didn’t even see you. Although,” he gives you a once over with his eyes, making you feel uncomfortably seen under his judging gaze, “I suppose you were a bit easy to miss.”

You gape at him. “Just what does that mean?”

“It means,” he smirks, taking the opportunity to grab the book as you stand in shock, “that I got here first.”

“Hey!” You glare at him, seeing red for a moment. What a perfectly good waste of a perfectly handsome face—and such an awful attitude coupled with his ridiculously smug grin couldn’t make for a worse combination. But, before you can even say anything, the book is being pressed back into your hands.

“You seem like you want it more than I do, though,” he hums, “I suppose I can let you have it. It’s a bit outdated for this ordinance, anyway.” With that, he saunters off. You push down the soft flutter in your heart for a moment and force yourself to hope you’ll never see him again. (Faintly, you hope your wishes don’t come true—but you refuse to admit it to yourself.)

Unfortunately (and fortunately at the same time) for you, you do see him again. Many, many times, in fact. When he works in the House of Daena as often as he does, and you like to spend all your free time there to study if you can, you’re both bound to run into each other often. Very often. 

And sometimes, it’s quite literally running into him. 

“Oof,” you hiss, staggering backward and hitting your head against the bookshelf behind you as you bump into a sturdy figure. You drop the books in your hand, blinking before reaching to rub your read as you start to apologize. “Sorry, I didn’t see you—oh. It’s you.”

“It’s me,” he says, looking mildly entertained. Alhaitham is everywhere. Everywhere. You can’t escape him if you try, and now, you can’t even avoid him in your own personal space. “Although, I think I should be the one apologizing this time. I was too busy reading to pay attention. This section is usually empty at this time.”

“How often are you in here to know what section is empty at what time?” You raise a brow. 

“Too often to be considered good for my well-being,” he says dryly, sighing in misery. You crack a smile at that. Oddly enough, so does he—you don’t think you’ve ever heard someone say they’ve seen Alhaitham smile. It must be a rare sight that only you, and perhaps a very few others, can say they’ve witnessed. “I was just about to take a break to buy a coffee—I’ll bring one back for you, too, to make up for the cranial damage I’ve supplied.”

“A most wonderful idea,” you perk up instantly, “I love when I get to drain the wallet of a man.”

He gives you an amused look at that. And somehow, bringing you a coffee along with his own during his breaks is a habit that seems to stick for a long, long while after that. 

────────────────────────

TWENTY TWO.

Alhaitham’s feelings are hurt. Not a lot of words tend to do that—he’s been blessed with thick skin and an unbothered attitude to a fault, sometimes. But something about today, for some odd reason, hurts his feelings. 

Your words to the waiter who took your order keep ringing in his head. 

Oh goodness, no, we are definitely not dating!

Most people mistake you and Alhaitham for a pair of lovers rather than a pair of friends. It’s just the way things go when a man and a woman are seen together for extended periods of time over and over. It doesn’t help that Alhaitham doesn’t really have any friends. He had one before you, but…well, things are complicated now. Far too complicated to think about it more than necessary. He has you, and that’s enough. But the matter still stands that most people tend to assume that something blossoms between the two of you that isn’t just friendly. 

He was starting to think it was true himself, too. He knows it’s true from his end, at least. But you say those words with such a sure, definitive tone that it almost sounds like you’re offended by the notion of being seen as his girlfriend. And sure, he would be disappointed—he’s no liar—if you didn’t feel romantically for him, but he’d understand. It’s not something you can help. But you brush off the idea like it’s an anomaly of sorts in the universe for someone like you and someone like Alhaitham to be a couple. It hurts his feelings. More than it should. 

(He knows deep down, in the depths of his heart, that you don’t mean it that way. You never would. But irrationality is but one of many feelings that bloom when it comes to romance.)

Alhaitham knows from a young age he’s different than most kids his age. This fact doesn’t change as he gets older. He’s brighter than most of his peers—which is certainly saying something because Sumeru is a nation filled with enough sharp minds, it’s as though brilliance were the average trait. People don’t typically like Alhaitham (which is fine by him, he doesn’t like most of them, either. They mostly don’t meet his standards). The kids don’t play with him in the parks that Grandmother would leave him at while she shopped around at the market, and they don’t sit with him on his one and only day at the Akademiya when he is but an elementary scholar. It never bothered him. He preferred reading under the trees and self-learning at home, anyway. When he’s older and enrolled in the Akademiya full-time, they don’t prefer to partner with him for projects for any other reason than simply being guaranteed a good grade, and they don’t spare him a glance when they all converse in groups outside of class. He never cared for freeloaders, anyway—he only trusts himself for projects, and he is at the Akademiya to learn, not make friends. 

It’s not until he meets Kaveh does he consider the idea that friendships are meaningful enough to spare some effort into. But the end result of that only solidifies that he is best when in solitude. 

But then he meets you. Some part of Alhaitham knows very early on that you would never be just a friend to him. If it was friendship that he craved, he would have looked for it elsewhere before running into you. Something about you from the very beginning makes him yearn for things much deeper than that. Things that remind him of his parents. 

Friendship is fleeting. People at the Akademiya go their separate ways and meet new people. They fall out and have arguments. They grow up and grow apart and become different. But love blooms like the Kalpalata lotuses on a vine, timeless as time itself. It starts and never ends, one root stemming into more and more vines until they never stop growing.

Alhaitham has fallen in love with you. Logic tells him it’s only a recent development, but his heart has known this outcome would be brought about for a long, long time. And, in all truthfulness, your words have hurt his feelings. 

And yet, he still loves you through it. He thinks that even if you crushed his feelings with a cold, indifferent smile, he would still love you through it. 

A hand waves in front of his face, pulling him from his thoughts as you take a sip from your coffee. Puspa Cafe is not as busy at this hour, most people are in the middle of a work day, but Alhaitham is allowed to pick his lunch hour, and yours happens to be earlier than most.

“Sorry, I just have to ask—are…are you upset?” you ask gently, making him pause. 

Yes.

“No,” he says simply, “why would I be?”

“You seem upset.”

“I’m not.”

“You were fine up until…I don’t know, a few minutes ago. Is something on your mind?”

You know him so well, he thinks. How could you not see how perfect the two of you are together?

“I’m simply concerned about your sugar intake is all,” he eyes the cold, iced drink in your hands with more syrups than he deems necessary. You always have a penchant for choosing the sweetest drink off the menu, and Alhaitham will never understand how your teeth don’t rot.

“Well, that’s very funny,” you roll your eyes, “because I was just thinking about how low on vitamin D you must be—do you ever leave your study to see the sun?”

He spares you a soft chuckle at that, shaking his head before taking a sip of his own coffee—hot and black and with two spoons of sugar. Simple, like how he prefers. You make a face at his drink as he sets it down. 

“Have you ever thought about what you look for in a partner?” he asks suddenly, making you blink in shock for a moment. He flinches at his own forwardness just a tad. 

“Umm, I suppose a little here and there…why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he shrugs, “just curious what your type was, that’s all. You’re painfully single, so I figured your taste was rather distinct.”

“Rude,” you scoff, rolling your eyes enough that he thinks it’s safe to assume you’re not suspicious. “Are you here just to poke fun at my choices today?”

Alhaitham should not be asking you this. Not when the answer so clearly is going to hurt his already very bruised feelings. Of course, your type won’t be him. And, of course, he is going to mourn your answer the second you give it, which is his own fault considering he’s the one who asked. (He has to wonder, for a moment, if this constitutes as an undiscovered hidden kink of his and whether or not he really just gets off on some unnecessary pain. Why else would he willingly subject himself to this?)

But, he’s caught off guard when you shrug and simply say, “I suppose someone who’s intelligent. I’d appreciate some good discussions. And…and maybe someone who’s kind, y’know? I would be rather sad if they were mean,” you pretend to sniffle dramatically.

“That’s…that’s it?” He tilts his head in equal parts shock and equal parts confusion. 

“What did you expect me to look for in a partner?” You snort, “A three-story mansion? A rock-solid, chiseled chest to lay on?” 

“Well, no,” he rolls his eyes, “Maybe something a bit less generic to narrow down your pool, I suppose, but if that’s your bar, so be it. There are far too many men who are intelligent and kind, you know.”

“Yes, but none of them show me any signs of interest,” you pout, “I must be undesirable or something.”

I desire you, he wants to say. He can’t quite find the courage to get the words out, though—and as if the universe has it completely out for him, the same waiter from earlier who is responsible for asking you the question that kills Alhaitham’s mood for the day comes back with the bill. And something else, too. 

Something that kills his mood for the week. 

His jaw clenches a tad when you flush at the note scribbled on a napkin for you, eyeing your flustered reaction while you read over the words: I get off at eight if you’d like to find me. You stare for a moment before you murmur, “Well, look at that. A sign of interest—it must be the Dendro Archon’s divine power.”

“The Divine have no say over who you fall for,” he insists.

“You don’t know that,” you hum thoughtfully, “The God of Wisdom knows her people better than anyone else, you know. I’d like to think she knows when love is bound for two people.”

You fold the napkin carefully and keep it in your pocket, and Alhaitham fishes out his mora pouch with stiff fingers. He leaves a very shoddy tip on the table before he exits after you. 

────────────────────────

TWENTY THREE.

You wake up in his bed. 

It’s a foggy memory, but you know you fucked Alhaitham after more sips of wine than you can count and one flirty comment too many. It happened in a blur last night, and you can’t say you’re surprised that it finally happened at all. Alhaitham is a man just like any other, and mingling pleasure with friendship is a normal thing to do. Falling under him on his mattress is not something you never had daydreams of—but the truth of the matter is that your daydreams don’t just stop with the bed.

They end with a toothbrush beside his in the bathroom. A mug next to his in the kitchen. Your shoes kicked off along with his at the entrance of a home. Your laughter and his bouncing off of the walls. A ring, maybe. One on your hand and one on his. 

In your imagination, it starts with pleasure, but it ends with love.

Falling in love with Alhaitham is a peaceful ordeal. He’s dependable and inherently kind. Strong and impressively capable. Intelligent and objectively handsome. You’d bring him home to your mother and father, and they’d thank Lord Kusanali for smiling down upon their humble little family and their darling little daughter by sending such a divine man your way. 

You don’t think you can pinpoint when exactly it is you started to love this boy, but you know loving him became as simple as breathing. You never thought about it. Never learned to do it. Never questioned it, even. You inhale the scent of his spicy, woody cologne and exhale the warm breath of your affections stored in your lungs. He lives somewhere nestled so deep in your ribcage that you think you’d have to crack each of them one after the other before you could pry him out.

You love Alhaitham. You think you know everything there is to know about loving him. You think you’d do it right—better than anyone else. 

He only drinks his coffee when it’s piping hot, and his wine can never be one degree less than iced. He has dry hands, but he hates the feeling of lotion. He doesn’t like raw onions but he doesn’t mind them cooked. When the sun is in his eyes, he’s in a foul mood, but he enjoys napping under the warm rays, much like a cat. He laughs surprisingly boyishly from his belly if you manage to deliver a dry yet clever enough joke, and he clears his throat and gets a bit shy once he’s realized he’s let it out. He twirls his pen in his hand when he’s bored, and he only uses the kind with gel ink because they write smoother. 

You love Alhaitham. For you, it’s always been him. 

When you wake up to his bare, warm body next to yours, breathing peacefully with an arm thrown over your waist, you can’t help but selfishly wish he’d stay asleep all day. Just for a day. Just for the amount of time you get in between the sun’s departure and the moon’s arrival. Just so you can watch him exist in this moment where it’s you, him, and the liminal space between friends and lovers. Just so you can admire how beautiful he is without worrying about his eyes opening and the inevitable conversation of what you’re both doing is brought up. 

People (like Kaveh, or Dehya, or Tighnari, or…anyone) tend to insist that Alhaitham loves you. It’s obvious, they say, just as obvious as your love for him. You never believe it. It’s not because he’s bad at love or because you’re bad for him. You think he’d make a good lover—contrary to popular belief, you don’t think Alhaitham is uninterested in intimacy or affection. And you think you’d make a good girlfriend—unlike other people, you understand him and like what you see. 

But he doesn’t love you. That much is a fact you’ve long accepted. It’s not because you’re bad for him or because he’s incapable of feeling—but rather, it’s just that bitter, soul-crushing reality that you can’t help who you love and who you don’t. Alhaitham doesn’t love you—it’s not something either of you can really change. Because if he did, he’d waste no time. He’d get to the heart of the matter and quit dancing around the issue. 

It’s just the kind of guy that he is. 

So, because this is your first and likely last time seeing him this way, you slowly reach over and brush a few strands of messy, unruly bedhead from his forehead before cupping his cheek in your hand. His skin is soft and warm under your palm, much more delicate to the touch than you anticipated from how chiseled his features are. Your thumb gently brushes along the slant of his cheekbone, eyes softening at how he lets out a puff of air as he sleeps. 

“Morning,” he says hoarsely, eyes still closed and making you jolt in surprise. He lets out a quiet, sleepy chuckle that would make you melt if not for the way your heart still pounds from the shock. 

“You’re awake?”

“Mhm,” he hums, nodding before finally cracking an eye open. “For a while now.”

“Why pretend to sleep then, you creep?” You scoff, glaring at him as he sits up slightly and glances at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. No part of him seems to be shocked about you being nude in his bed. Or the fact that you’re even in his bed at all, nude or not. 

“You’re the creep if we’re being technical here. It’s undoubtedly a little on the creepy side to study someone with such careful touches while they sleep.”

“That’s your main concern…?” You stare at him—and for lack of better words, you’re dumbfounded. You and Alhaitham have been friends for two years and counting. You’ve never once crossed the line or even toed at it to step beyond the border of anything more. And, yet, here you are. In his bed. Completely nude. He was lying there and felt your delicate touch along his skin, felt you act like a lover and not a friend on a quiet, intimate morning when in fact, you both should be shamefully avoiding each other’s eyes in a moment that’s anything but intimate as you leave. 

He makes no move to ask you to leave or even question why you’re still here. You make no move to really leave—it’s not like you want to. 

“What should my main concern be, then?” he looks at you expectantly, like he really doesn’t know.

“Oh, I don’t know, Alhaitham—shouldn’t you be a little more panicked by the idea that I’ve trespassed into your bed and seen you…bare?”

“Well, to be fair, you didn’t trespass. I let you in—and also, to be fair, I saw the same for you, too, so we’re even.”

“You’re oddly calm about this,” you hiss. “This doesn’t bother you even a little? That things might change?”

He looks at you funny—like you’ve just told him a joke that hardly makes sense but makes him want to laugh anyway. “You’re too brilliant to be this dense,” he murmurs. “Maybe I’m quite open to the idea of change.”

You take offense to the first part enough to completely miss the second part of his statement. 

“I am not dense,” you huff, “I’m incredibly bright. I’ll have to send you my thesis sometime.”

“No need,” he responds through a low hum. He pulls you closer, flush against his chest. Bare skin on skin. Intimate skin, at that. You shiver for a moment as his warm, large hand wanders lower and lower before stopping just at the small of your back, rubbing slow circles at the dimple where your spine ends. “I’ve read it plenty of times. It was very insightful.”

“Well, in that case, you should know not to insult my intelligence—”

“If you don’t notice my affection for you, I’m afraid you might not be as observant as I initially thought.”

You pause. Your heart flutters. Then it feels like it decays. Your eyes widen a fraction. Then they feel like they need to be squeezed shut for fear of tears. You feel your fingers twitch to reach for him. And yet they stiffen in distrust. 

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you whisper. Because you don’t.

You really fucking don’t. You thought you knew. His feelings and how to read them. His thoughts and how his mind works. Every little quirk of his and how he approaches every damn thing in this world. You thought you knew.

Now you feel like you don’t know much of anything, especially not what he means right in this moment. 

“You don’t?” He whispers, hand moving to grab your wrist and bring it to his cheek so his lips can brush along the delicate lines of your palm prints. (If he was brave, he’d tell you that his destiny and yours are written in those very lines. Maybe someday he’ll build the courage.)

“No,” you say through a shaky whisper. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you. Just like you love me.” He says it so plainly, that you almost feel like it's a dry, cruel joke. (You know him a little better than that, though, to know he’d never.)

“How do you know I love you?” you challenge just because it’s all you have left to cling to—easy, instant denial. 

He laughs. Soft. Quiet. Melodic. So fucking sweet. “I’m too smart to act dense,” Alhaitham teases. And then, for a moment, his eyes soften enough that they almost look vulnerable. “And only someone who loves me could deal with my… peculiarities. Though, I will admit, it took me quite a while to reach this conclusion. You made me work for it.”

“If you’ve known all along—” 

“Not all along,” he corrects, “like I said, it took me a while to come to this conclusion. But once I did, it was rather obvious.”

You scowl with a finger prodding into his chest, eyes misty with relief and the faintest traces of agitation, “Well, regardless, why haven’t you said something all this time? Obviously, I wasn’t as aware as you seem to be, so the least you could have done is spared me the pining and heartbreak of wondering if you’d ever look at me—”

“I wanted to make sure I could offer you a peaceful life first,” he says gently. You blink. He smiles, eyeing something in the distance—you don’t quite catch it, but you think it might be the old, worn-out stack of envelopes sitting on his desk. 

“What?”

“When you’re with me,” he whispers, leaning in so that his lips brush over yours, “I can lead a peaceful life. I wanted to make sure I could give you the same.”

“And what does that consist of?” you raise a brow. 

“Well,” he murmurs, pecking the corner of your mouth, “A stable job with a generous income, which I now have. A fixed schedule, which I have also negotiated. A proper home to house the both of us, which you are comfortably laying in. And…” he grabs your hand, bringing it to his chest where his heart is beating erratically, “A rock-solid, chiseled chest to lay on, which I have dedicatedly worked to add to my physique for you.”

“Haitham!” you squeal, shoving him away with a horrified shriek as he laughs with a wide grin. You don’t even know why he still remembers that comment to poke fun at it, but you suppose that is the tragedy of falling for a prodigious scholar. His mind is sharp. And so is his memory. “Enough!”

“Okay, okay,” he grins smugly. “I want us to lead a peaceful life.”

“There’s not a lot of peace I am counting on with you.”

“I will elect to ignore that statement,” he says dryly, “But that’s why I waited this long,” he buries his face into your neck, nose pressing into the skin as he inhales, “I’m afraid I can’t wait any longer, though. Won’t you accept my frugal attempt at a serene life with you?”

“Perhaps I can make do,” you fight back a stupid grin.

He smiles into your neck. You can feel it. You can practically see it. You hope you’ll grow old with it, too. 

“Then I suppose I’m forever indebted to your graciousness, my love.”

────────────────────────

TWENTY FOUR.

When Alhaitham was eight, Grandmother told him the story of how his parents had fallen in love. It was a typical love story, he thought at the time—nothing overly special or unique. A simple, sweet bond between two people who became friends and something more along the way.

What stood out were the letters. Not very much at first, but with time, he’d realized how special they were. 

Grandmother handed him the letters with a soft, melancholy look in her eyes that made him realize he hadn’t just lost his father and mother. She had lost her son and daughter-in-law. Alhaitham felt the absence of his parents often. It was hard not to at that age—he didn’t have a father to throw a ball to or tag along with to the market. He didn’t have a mother to hum him a melody or make his favorite dish for dinner. But Grandmother filled the gaps in those places well enough that even if his heart bled, not too much blood spilled between the cracks.

But he was no son. Not a proper one for her at her age, anyway. She raised him like he was her own, but she grew older every day, and he didn’t grow fast enough to keep up. He couldn’t take care of her in her old age the way his father would have. He couldn’t do much besides bring the vegetables for her to cut or set the table while she cooked. He couldn’t offer her the mora when she went to the market or carry too many of the heavy bags while they walked home. He couldn’t let her rest in her old age too much because, regardless of how mature and bright he was for his age, Alhaitham was just a child. Her child, nonetheless—Grandmother didn’t let him forget that fact. But a child.

When she died, he arranged the funeral alone. He didn’t cry throughout the whole ordeal. Her old colleagues from way back in her Akademiya days came, as did some of his parents’ old acquaintances. No one he knew too familiarly, though—no one who really mattered when they clasped his shoulder and told him to hang in there.

She was a good woman. He knew that already.

She was very intelligent. A very obvious fact.

She was exceptionally kind. A rather unsurprising observation.

She loved very deeply. Well. That one stung—as true as it might have been.

He remembers it so vividly still. How he had walked home alone after it all. How he had taken off his tie (a very poorly tied tie, at that—Grandmother had always helped him before) and silently entered his room.

It wasn’t until he had eyed his desk that finally, it all sank in. The notes—the ones his father had so carefully written his mother while they were still just starting to fall in love, sat there as if waiting for him. He read them one by one, just like he had so many times before. He didn’t realize he’d started crying until a rivulet of his sorrow landed from his cheek to the page, staining the paper a darker shade of heartache. 

Alone. 

That’s all Alhaitham had ever been since the tender age of four. At least, that’s what people had always thought—but he’d never felt the sorrow people tended to feel for him. Not having a father and mother was okay. Hard at times, but okay. Grandmother had been everything he needed. More than what he needed, in fact. 

Grandmother was everything. And she had left him just the same way his parents had. He’d cried that night—alone in a house that was nothing more than just a house. Not a home, not a place where he could return to and look forward to it. Not a place where love was waiting for him to shelter him as soon as he came back from the cruel, outside world.

Grandmother was gone. Mother and father had left so long ago. But they all had each other—in whatever world they’d crossed to, they’d had each other. 

He remembers it all so vividly still. How he’d read his father’s words, and for the first time in all his life, he’d craved it. What his parents had. 

To my love, my soul, my heart. I am yours, always. 

He wondered that night, through teary and blurry eyes, if love like that would ever find him. If he’d one day be able to call someone his love, soul, and heart.

He thinks now, as you laugh with your head tilted forward and a tweezer in hand while sitting on his lap, that he can. 

“Hold still, you,” comes your teasing remark, “you said this would be nothing. Now look at you.”

“You’re being too harsh,” he grumbles, pouting slightly. With a smile, you bend your neck down and press a soft kiss to his jutted lips, humming before pressing an extra one to the corner of his mouth for good measure. (And yes, the grand sage—acting, you can almost hear him correct in your own head—can pout. He is rather frequent at curling those lips of his in your presence when he wants something, in fact. Or when he is teased too much. Something about you brings about a side of him that is much less stoic and far more dramatized.)

“You can just admit it hurts, you know,” you say through an amused snort.

“It won’t hurt if you just do it right.”

“I’m an expert at tweezing eyebrows,” you huff, “I do mine all the time. And I would know that it hurts.”

“It can’t be that painful,” he clicks his teeth, “just be gentle.”

“I cannot gently pull out a hair from your follicle, Haitham—I don’t know what you want me to—hey!”

He grabs the tweezers from your hand and pulls you close, hugging you tight enough that his nose digs into your skin a bit as he buries it into your neck. It’s Saturday. His first out of two days off for the week—standard scribe work weeks are nine to five on weekdays, and he very much appreciates his weekends away from the bustling, lively Akademiya nonsense. 

Saturday happens to be your day off, too. 

“Where is Kaveh?” you ask quietly, playing with the hem of his shirt. He raises a brow, eyeing the suspicious movement of your fingers.

“Working with a client in Aaru Village. He won’t be back until tomorrow evening. Why am I not enough company for you?”

“Oh, be quiet,” you roll your eyes, and this time, your hands wander under his shirt, palms slowly dragging along his chiseled, planed abdomen while he shivers slightly under your touch. “I was just asking if…”

“If…?” he urges you to continue.

You know he knows. But, for the sake of indulging his smug, teasing little game, you huff and push his shirt up to expose his chest before murmuring, “If we would be interrupted or not. I don’t fancy such awkward run-ins with your roommate.”

“Our roommate,” he corrects, “this is your home, too.”

“Yes,” you smile, brushing your palms over his pectorals, watching as he stiffens when you graze along his nipples, “I suppose it is.”

“Well, he’s not here. And he won’t be, so kiss me,” he demands through a breathy whisper. You do. You kiss him instantly—because kissing Alhaitham is what you do best. When he’s happy, sad, angry, distressed, or just plain tired, kissing him is how you know him the most. When your breaths exchange and your life force and his mingle to become one, singular unit. 

You sigh into his mouth, letting his hands cradle your jaw and tilt your head to better meet his mouth, all while your hands still explore his upper half. He moans under your touch, cock springing to life slowly below you through his pants. You angle your hips forward, inching higher up his lap to drag your crotch along his and help the erection grow against the friction. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, hard and heavy between his legs in no time. 

“Haitham,” you breathe, feeling that familiar ache build between your own thighs. 

You kiss him like that for a bit. Messy, deep, sloppy, and so, so slow. With all the time in the world. Languid strokes of your tongue against his as he rolls his hips up from underneath you, dragging his clothed, bulging cock against your dripping cunt. The fabric separates you, rudely so, and it’s not long until you both grow tired of it. 

“Off,” you whine, tugging at his pants, “off, off, off!”

“So demanding,” he chuckles, pecking your nose sweetly before he lifts his hips, letting you slide off his sweatpants. “Satisfied?” 

“Yes,” you beam, “You always give me what I want. It’s my favorite thing about you.”

His gaze darkens at that—not for any other reason than it makes him so incredibly filled with lust when you speak to him like that. So spoiled and happy about it because it’s him. Him. You’re happy that it’s him. And he’s happy that it’s you. 

You don’t even bother undressing yourselves fully—he pulls down your own pants just enough to expose your pretty, leaking folds, and his hands wander under your shirt, where he almost short-circuits for a moment. Braless. Because you just love to drive him mad, he thinks. This much easy access to your soft, delicate breasts and the pert nipples that decorate them is enough to make him curse under his breath as his thumbs tease over them. 

“You’re a tease.”

“For simply existing?” you gasp, making him crack a small grin. 

“Yes,” he hums, “Your existence on its own teases me at all times. I’m afraid it drives me mad.”

You hum, reaching forward to gently take his hard, leaking cock into your hand and give a light, teasing squeeze. “Maybe my goal is to turn you completely into a lost cause.”

“Then,” he groans, throwing his head back against the couch cushions while he breathes harshly, “then you’re definitely succeeding. Is that what you wished to hear?”

“Yes,” you whisper, kissing his jaw, “It is, actually.”

It doesn’t take long at all before Alhaitham has tossed you back against the couch, laughing as you shriek at the sudden change of position. You glare at him, fighting back your own chorus of giggles as he moves to hover over you, kissing and biting playfully along your cheeks. 

“I love you,” he mumbles.

“Aw, so sweet,” you coo, “say that again.”

He rolls his eyes. His lips curl into the brightest grin at the same time. My love, my soul, my heart—the words are ingrained in his memory always. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” you whisper.

He leans in for a soft, slow kiss as the tip of his leaking cock slides against your folds, tapping against your clit before rubbing along your entrance. You gasp, shuddering against him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. 

“You know,” he murmurs, “I could get used to this.”

“Sex on the couch? We can do that any time—”

“A weekend with just the two of us,” he groans, dropping his head to your neck as you laugh loudly. Bright. Airy. A sound the wind carries to him in his subconscious. He hears you even when you’re not there—even when you aren’t around, he searches for you. 

“Oh,” you say playfully, “Yeah, I guess that’s nice too, isn’t it?”

“I’ll show you just how nice it’s about to be,” he hums. The tip of his thick, blunt head is pressed against your folds—you’re leaking just as much as he is. You slick, and his pre cum mix for a messy collision of arousal as he presses into you slowly, so carefully, you feel like you could break at any second with how he handles you. 

He’s patient. When Alhaitham fucks you, he’s patient enough that you feel like his other half and not his means of pleasure. Like he fucks you for you and not for himself. 

“More,” you insist, impatient as you add, “I can take it.”

“Patience is a virtue,” he clicks his teeth, “I want to take my time feeling you.”

And he does. He rolls his hips slowly. So slowly, you feel delirious. It’s a painful, gradual build-up of pleasure that has you trying to roll your hips into him to meet him halfway, a pathetic attempt when he’s on top of you to press his weight down on you to keep you in place. 

“Please, Haitham,” you whine, sweat shining across your sweet, pleasure-hazed face as he stares down at you, “Please more. I need it—need you. Need all of you.”

“You have all of me,” he groans, feeling the tight walls of your cunt squeeze around him, the squelching noise of his thick girth bullying into your folds in and out, in and out, in and out, driving him to the brink of insanity. “You’ve always had every piece of me.”

“I want more,” you hiss. 

He lets out a breathy laugh that turns into a soft moan. “If that’s what you want.”

The next thing you know, two strong, muscled arms are grabbing your thighs and bringing them around his torso to wrap around him, and his large hands grab your hips and pull, practically manhandling you deeper onto his cock. You shudder, letting out a shrill, high-pitched gasp as he intrudes further into your cunt, nudging the head of his cock against your sweetest of spots and making your body tremble. 

“Haitham,” you gasp, “Haitham, fuck—fuck, you feel so good. So deep—love when you fuck me like this.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, kissing in between your pretty little scrunched-up eyebrows, “I love fucking you like this, too. When you take me so well, squeeze so tight, and let me feel you like the good girl you are.”

His words make your folds squeeze around him, and fuck—he’s close. So fucking close, the pad of his rough, callused thumb meets your clit as he rubs circles, trying to bring you to the edge before he goes plummeting himself. 

“‘M close—almost…almost there,” you pant.

“Me too, baby,” he groans. He slams into you, skin slapping against skin and the glistening sheen of it mixing your sweat together. His mouth parts with pretty, low sounds of his pleasure, and your face twists with the devastating rush of yours. 

Once. Twice. A third time, and you fall apart as he thrusts into you and presses the tip of his thick length against the spongey spot in the back of your walls. 

“Haitham,” you gasp, legs tightening around him as your nails press crescent shapes into his back. “Fuck, I’m c-cumming…oh, Gods.”

“Good,” he gasps, and with one last roll of his desperate hips, he spills into you, too. A thick, sticky, familiar rush of heat fills your cunt, topes of cum painting you white within with every twitch of his aching cock. “Fuck—you feel so good. So perfect—you were made for me. Me.”

“You,” you whisper, breathless. 

You let him shudder over you, fingers running through his hair as he finishes releasing his load into you before he slumps his wait over your body. It’s a small couch—decorative more than functional. (All thanks to Kaveh, of course.) But you don’t particularly care when you’re under him. It feels right all the same. 

“We have the house to ourselves this weekend,” he reminds you after some time of catching your breaths. “So…so we can do this all you want.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes as you poke his forehead. “You’re obscene.”

“I’m romantic,” he corrects, “I just want to be with you and nothing else. Can’t blame a man when he’s been gifted such a beautiful sight before him.”

“And cheesy, too,” you huff. 

He smiles. My love, my soul, my heart. 

——————————

You wake up Monday morning to Alhaitham already gone—it’s rare that he’s ever up before you. He leaves the house just in time to make it to work exactly on the dot and not a moment sooner or a moment later. But, as is with any Akademiya position, there are quarterly meetings that even the scribe can’t avoid. You giggle at the image in your head of a grumpy Alhaitham carefully tiptoeing around the room as he miserably gets ready for an early morning of extra work, all while making sure he doesn’t wake you. 

You yawn, sitting up to start your morning for your own day of work ahead—but it catches your eye before you can fully rise from bed, making you pause. 

A note? No, you realize almost instantly. Not just a note—a letter. 

To my love, my soul, my heart: Kalpalata lotuses will bloom soon. I forget how beautiful the world is sometimes, and I suppose it’s because I am always distracted by your beauty alone. Will you laugh as you read this? I suppose you might because even I must admit, it is a rather cliche thing to say. I can just picture your smile now, and I am certain I will have it memorized until my last breath. It’s easy to remember it so well when it’s all I see in my dreams. Have I told you how often I see you in them? It’s difficult to think that there was once a time in Sumeru when we did not dream. It seems like sleeping beside your body is no longer enough—your presence is required even in my slumber for me to truly be at peace.  Perhaps when the lotuses bloom, we can take a trip to the deeper parts of the rainforest to catch a glimpse of a few. They say the vines are blessed by The Lord herself. I was never one to seek out the divine, but perhaps with a gift as sacred as you, I should take the time to thank Lady Kusanali for granting such brilliance to take bloom in my presence. Only, the difference is that here with you, there are no cliffs to climb or seasons to await. You are mine to bloom, always—my precious, beautiful lotus.  Forever yours,  Haitham ♡

ITS DONE. HAPPY LATE BDAY TO MY FIRST AND LONGEST LOVE. YOU MEAN EVERYTHING AND MORE TO MEEEEE

[the-kipsabian]

maybe i am a hypocrite. but im willing to accept that, as most of the time these posts arent done on my end to push people to read *my* stuff. just as a general thought

it doesnt change the fact that this is still a fucking issue in fandom tho

[shouyuus]

─── Ⅵ FIGURE EIGHTS

violet; 28,888 words; fluff and smut (at the end), semi enemies to lovers, fake dating, hockey!vi x figure skater!reader, ice dancers!meljayce, miscommunication, smau-intermissions, toxic ex!cait, simpgirl!vi, slowburn, the gays r bad at feelings, lots of making out that almost leads to something, emotional edging (for YOU lol), fingering (both receiving), thigh riding, oral (r!receiving), slightly unhinged!reader, no "y/n"

summary: a hockey player and a figure skater kind of, sort of, not really, but then actually fall in love. what could possibly go wrong? (narrator: apparently, everything.)

a/n: YALL. yall. YOU. ALL. lmfao. i can't believe i finished this (i say, after writing any fic longer than 5k words). but i TRULY doubted for a second that i would bc as i kept writing, it kept... getting longer? i hope that this doesn't drag, and that you guys like it. it's really a fucking labor of love. like heavy emphasis on the labor. shoutout to @vifilms for being my emotional support, and to my irl bf for actually physically reading through like 90% of this fic out LOUD with me to make sure the dialogue doesn't sound awk. BUT ANYWAYS. pls enjoy and PLS tell me what u guys think!!!! the smau fake texts won't start till chapter three, but ! it's my first time making like.. fake texts so sldkfjsd.

TABLE OF CONTENTS ━

prologue: party people

chapter one: shut up and kiss me

chapter two: fists to a knife fight

chapter three: love's dream

chapter four: for cup's sake

chapter five: don't hate the player (suggestive)

chapter six: six (nsfw)

─── TAG YOU'RE IT .ᐟ.ᐟ

pls comment below if you'd like to be tagged for this series! :) if you're already on my vi-taglist via my normal taglist link, then you're all good. if you only wanna be tagged for this series, comment below! pls pls have your age visible somewhere on your blog as this will be an 18+ fic!!!! thank you!!!

prologue: party people

─── Ⅵ IT STARTS WITH A GAME of spin the bottle — a college party post-game, the home team the exhalant victors, the crowds of adoring fans the worshippers at their beer-tower altars, doing keg stands and shot-gunning cans of cheap bud lite for an approving grin or a wink.

“Remind me why we’re here again?” you ask, jerking back as a drunken guy nearly topples into you, the red solo cup in his hand sloshing over onto the already sticky linoleum floor.

Mel sighs, “Because, darling, you promised me that you’d come out at least once if me and Jayce made it through the Challenger Series this year.”

She tugs you behind her, weaving through the crush of bodies till the cramped living room area opens onto a much larger patio, the mid-autumn chill cooling your skin.

“It was a joke,” you say, whining slightly even as Mel grabs what looks like an unopened hard cider from the table and presses it into your hand.

“Yes, and one that hurt my feelings,” Mel sniffs, turning her nose up, though a grin teases at her lips, “so to make up for it, you now have to stay at this party and have some semblance of a good time.”

And that was three and a half drinks ago, because sometime between then and now, you’ve found yourself pulled into an unwitting game of spin the bottle with what seems like half the entire hockey team, sitting next to Mel, her boyfriend Jayce on your other side, chatting animatedly with one of the girls hockey girls. You overhear the words “creatin” and “Bulgarian Squat” and decided that it’s time for you to tune out of the conversation.

“Vi, it’s your turn!”

Vi, your thoughts linger over the sound.

It’s a pretty name.

You glance up at the girl sitting across from you, Number Six — you’ve always known her as that, what with the tattoo on her cheek (there were rumors that it’s actually not real and she just reapplies one of those temporary tattoos every two weeks) and the fact that it’s her jersey number, it’s really not too hard to remember.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, laughing as she reaches for the empty beer bottle in the middle of the circle. Her right hand’s bandaged up and you can’t help staring at it. When you look up next, it’s to catch her watching you, your eyes meeting in a startling clash of raw contact — the cacophonous noise of the party dulling out to a thin whine somewhere at the back of your head as you stare at her and she stares right back.

You’d never noticed that her eyes, even in the dark, beneath the dim, flickering patio lights, reads mourning-dove blue, so subtle it’s almost gray, so sharp as she takes you in that your stomach drops from inside you. She smirks and twists her fingers expertly around the bottle, setting it whizzing.

You tear your eyes away, your breath sent astray in your chest by just that look alone. You frown at the spinning bottle, your mind abuzz with fragmentary thoughts you can’t quite string along for long enough to form a full sentence — eyes… her lips are pretty… wasn’t she dating… someone? who??? what’s her name again? something pretty —

“— right, ice princess, you ready?”

“Huh?” you jerk your eyes up from the bottle to find everyone watching you. From your left, Mel nudges you with a sanctimonious grin, her eyes flickering down to the bottle and back up towards —

“Go on!” she hisses, even as you blink uncomprehendingly down at the bottle pointing right at you.

Across the circle, Vi’s questioning smirk is all the answer you need as your alcohol-addled brain finally puts together the pieces.

“R-right…” you push up onto your knees, but something holds you back, a niggling feeling in the back of your brain as Vi’s smirk grows wide and she jerks her head towards the living room.

“Want a bit of privacy? Or… would you prefer an audience?”

Half the circle wolf-whistles at the insinuation, the other half roll their eyes, leaning back on their elbows as if to settle in for a long night.

You lick your lips, feeling your mouth scald dry.

“Privacy. Please.”

You follow Vi stiffly from the patio back into the stuffy house, her fingers closing around your wrist as she tugs you behind her through a long hallway splitting off from the main living room, branching into a series of what look like bedrooms. Half the doors are closed, illicit sounds echoing out from behind them, but Vi finds an empty one near the end of the hallway and pushes it open, leading you inside.

“Oh wow,” you say, looking around the room. It’s a typical fratboy’s room, full of suggestive posters, the floor littered with questionably laundered clothes.

“What, not your ideal setting for a makeout-sesh with a stranger?”

You frown as your eyes slingshot back to Vi, her standing feet from you, hands tucked loosely into her pockets, watching you with dark, firefly eyes.

“Thought we were just supposed to kiss once.”

Vi chuckles, closing the distance between you in a few quick strides, crowding you up against the closed door.

“Sure. We can do that. Or…” she makes no effort to hide the way her eyes flicker down to your lips, trailing back up in a line of fire that sizzles against your skin. “I could show you what a real good time looks like.”

Your breath crystalizes in your chest, and the strange, tickling feeling traces down the back of your head till it gathers, hot and unconscionable at the nape of your neck — a spin-click wheel of half-formed thoughts and images ticking by behind your eyelids as you try to remember why the hell this feels so wrong.

And then, it clicks, and you press a hand to Vi’s chest just as she’s leaning down to graze her lips against yours, the friction so delicious you almost lose your train of thought.

“A-are you sure this is a good idea? Didn’t you just break up with that track and field girl? Caitlyn?” you blurt out, a culmination of all the snippets of whispered conversations and half-caught glances of the pair of them across campus. The It-Girl Couple, people called them, the hockey team star and the track and field genius. They were hard to miss, and even harder to forget.

A moth-wing-flicker of emotions crosses Vi’s face as she takes half a step back, her expression morphing into one of shock, and then hurt, and finally, hard-lined disgust as she looks down at you with a thin-lipped grimace.

“Oh fuck you.”

She yanks you from the door, storming out without a backwards glance. You catch yourself against the half-made bed, your breath coming in heaving pants as your head spins. Guilt curdles in the bed of your stomach like spoilt milk, and it only takes you half a second to realize that of all the things to say, that probably was the worst possible choice.

You’d heard mention of the breakup, even if you didn’t have any stakes in this so-called game. It was harsh and messy and loud, and it had spilled across campus like a backed-up toilet, oozing foulness and stank across the grounds till not a single person was left unstained in the aftermath.

“Wait —” you stumble after Vi, but it’s too late. By the time you reach the patio doors, she’s already settling back into her place in the circle, an easy grin slung across her lips.

You swallow, pushing through the door to scurry over to Mel’s side. Mel beams at the flush in your cheeks, convinced (just like the rest of the circle) that it’d been one hell of a kiss, judging by how entirely breathless you are.

“Damn Vi, you gotta learn how to go easy on them figure skaters, hm?” Margot smirks, her eyes glittering as she looks you over, “look at the poor darling — she can barely breathe!”

Everyone laughs, and Vi flashes a convincingly satisfied smirk, shrugging up a shoulder. You glance at her, only to shiver at the arctic ice behind her gaze as your eyes catch once more.

“What can I say? Easy isn’t a setting I come programmed with.”

You duck your head as Vi casts you one more frigid look before turning to laugh at something a teammate has just said, and the circle devolves into good-natured banter and pocket conversations. You gulp around your too-dry throat and pluck Mel’s drink from her hand, tossing the rest of it back in a single gulp. She blinks at you, eyes wide.

“Darling, are you —”

“I — I’m fine just — it’s — I think I’m gonna head back.”

Mel frowns, “Are you sure? I mean —” she looks towards where Vi’s been pulled into an impromptu arm-wrestling match with some dude from the football team, “you could try and —”

You shake your head, “No, I — I think I’m good. I had a good time, I just —” you run a hand through your hair, “I’ve got practice tomorrow and Amara’s gonna murder me if I get there late.”

Mel stares for a second before relenting, a soft sigh on her lips.

“Alright, alright — go on then. I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow at practice, yes?”

You give her a tight-lipped smile, reaching out for a quick hug before ducking out of the party, skirting the edges of the growing mosh pit forming in the living room till you finally find yourself out on the front steps again.

You close your eyes for a second, pressing your back to the frat house door, feeling the dull thump of the music inside reverberating through the thin wooden frame as you breathe in and out.

You can still taste the heat of Vi’s breath on your lips, feel harsh sting of ice as she’d caught your eyes after. The chill air, once refreshing, pebbles your skin and an involuntary shiver shakes down your spine. You wrap your arms around yourself and give your head a good shake.

Whatever, you think, stepping off the porch, casting your eyes up at the star-strewn sky, a whisp of warm breath fogging up the air before you.

Not like it’ll matter. Bet she won’t even remember me after tonight.

taglist: @traiitorjoe @rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly @drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22 @lipsent @lewd_alien @jack-frost-2010 @starsfortaylor @onesockcat @lesbian-useless @armins-slvt

[wiishopwednesday]

longing for something you can never return to

[ID: a collection of images relating to nostalgia. the first image is a genius screenshot of the lyrics to car seat headrest's "famous prophets (stars)." the screenshot reads "We gotta go back/We gotta go back/We gotta go back/We gotta go back." the second image is the "we got the torture labyrinth tomorrow" meme template, edited to instead say "We got missing what we can never return to tomorrow/What?/We got the beginning of the rest of our lives tomorrow/Ohhhh/Okay." the third image is a discord screenshot, with the user's username and icon cropped out so that only the text is visible, and reads "Duuudeee you missed out on those 7 days where god created earth you are fucked LOL." the fourth image is a screenshot of a piece of text, which reads in bolder font "You can never leave home." underneath it, in normal text, it reads "You take it with you no matter where you go. Home is between your teeth, under your fingernails, in the hair follicles, in your smile, in the ride of your hips, in the passage of your breasts." the fifth image is a screenshot of a post made by tumblr user ryebreadgf, which reads "YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK! YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK! YOU CAN BITE AND SCRATCH AND BEG BUT YOU CAN NEVER GO BACK!" the sixth image is a screenshot of a piece of text that reads, "YOU KILL YOURSELF AND IMMEDIATELY WAKE UP AS A CHILD ON YOUR PARENTS BED. YOU'VE BEEN ASLEEP FOR HALF AN HOUR. THE SUN IS SHINING." the seventh image is a picture of two uneven dark yellow boxed next to each other on a off-white background. the first box reads, in handwriting, "I'm terrified of change." the second box reads, "I'm terrified of staying this way forever." the eighth image is a screenshot of a post made by tumblr user dakotajohnsongf, which reads "women be looking at pictures of their childhood selves and trying to find a way back to them." the ninth image is a screenshot of a post made by tumblr user bestofgentleearth, containing a screenshot from a forum of some kind. a line of text reads "(16 hours ago) butterfly said:" underneath, an indented section of text reads "today, the world looked beautiful again. i'm starting to remember what kept me alive last summer." the tenth image is another tumblr post by user cursedsuggestion, which reads "the friend you miss comes home for good. you never see another mirror. it's summer forever and that terrible thought you keep having finally disappears." the eleventh image is a screenshot of a reddit post, with the original poster's username and icon cropped out so only the text is visible. it reads "I'm not sure how to word this, but I constantly go through this deep sense of loss. I feel like I terribly miss something I love from the bottom of my heart, but I don't know what it is, exactly. Nothing in life satisfies me, nothing makes me content, but l wouldn't say I'm depressed either. There's just this endless search for something, and at times I feel I can catch a glimpse of it - different sceneries pop into my head at times, like of a particular beach at night, and I'm moved to tears. Or I remember a dream and all the feelings that were stirring while I saw that dream, and feel entirely connected to them." the twelfth image is a screenshot of a tumblr post, but the original poster is cropped out so only the text is visible, which reads "wait i wasn't ready. i never finished that game of tag. i still need to learn how to do a cartwheel. my friends and i never finished making that bridge over the creek. i want to go back. can you carry me to bed one last time? and maybe i'll wake up tomorrow in my childhood room with my pink walls and we'll laugh over this dream at breakfast." the thirteenth image is another tumblr screenshot of a post by user heavensghost, which reads "uhhh yh sure u can go back but no one will be waiting for you there."

the fourteenth image is a screenshot of a reddit comment, with the user's information cropped out so that only the text is visible, which reads "HIRAETH (heer-eye-th) 'A deep homesickness; an intense form of longing or nostalgia for a place long gone, or even an unaccountable homesickness for a place you have never visited. A pull on the heart that conveys a distinct feeling of missing something irretrievably lost.'" the fifteenth image is a collection of 3 rows of black boxes, with 3 boxes in each row. the first box has a white, vague form of a human. the second box pictures the human form stretching its arms and legs out. from the third box onward, the human figure starts to dissipate into white dots until it has completely disappeared and only dots remain. the sixteenth image is a tumblr post by user n1ntendos, which reads "I AM HAUNTED BY A PAST I CANNOT GO BACK TO !!!!!!! anyways." the seventeenth image is a screenshot of text that reads "I cling to everything - CDs that skip, rings that turn my fingers green, the dead ends of my hair, old love notes that turn my stomach over and over. And I'm not proud but there are still boxes under my bed. And I'm not proud but my closet is still running out of space. And nostalgia is a fucking waste of time but my heart is full with it. Tell me I won't hold this forever. Tell me there will be a day where I let gloriously go." the eighteenth image is an image of larger text that reads "It's a summer day, and I want to be wanted more than anything else in the world." the nineteenth image is a photograph of a large white dog standing in a dark, flowing river surrounded by a dark forest and green trees. the dog is facing away from the viewer with its mouth open. the dog appears to be glowing, likely due to a lens flare of some kind. the entire picture feels very melancholy and nostalgic. the twentieth image is larger text that reads "Nostalgia is the aching realization that you can't go back again. The longing, no matter how intense, can never be met." the twenty-first image is a screenshot of an instagram dm, with the user's username and icon cropped out so that only the text is visible, and it reads "well the time passes anyway so I have to." the twenty-second image is a screenshot of the spotify lyrics for gerard way's song "action cat." the lyrics read "Hey/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you/Do you miss me?/'Cause I miss you too." the twenty-third image is a screenshot of text that reads "YOUR CHILDHOOD DOG IS ALIVE. YOUR DEAD BEST FRIEND WANTS TO GET COFFEE. YOU HAVE BEEN KIND AND GOOD. THERE IS NOTHING CHASING YOU. YOU CAN SLEEP. WHAT DO YOU DO?" the twenty-fourth image is a continuation of the lyrics from car seat headrest's "famous prophets (stars)" that were pictured in the first image. these lyrics read "We've gotta go back/We've gotta go back/We've gotta go back/(Don't spend too much time on it)." end ID.]

[lewisvinga]

get his ass ! | lando norris/the grid x fem! reader

summary: y/n was loved among the grid, quickly gaining the title of ‘the mother of the grid’ due to her motherly nature. but when a famous football player says he’d like to take her on a date in an interview, the boys are quick to defend her.

fc; maria isabel

warnings; kinda suggestive pics , curse words

notes; requested! this came later than expected lol, been super tired after a long road trip and was out all day w poor connection😩🥲 don’t mind my lil football reference 🤭🤭 also second pic of the interview was meant to say pretty at the end but it was called off lol😞

masterlist !

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 940,038 others!

yourusername: pov: single mother after a day full of chasing and taking care of her 5 grown children on the paddock

tagged; landonorris, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, logansargeant, georgerussell63

username: MOTHER IS BACK ON THE PADDOCK

username: i want u fr

landonorris: ‘single mother’ who am i then?😕

yourusername: a grown child who asks me to ‘pretty please’ wipe the grease off of his pizza😁

landonorris: it was disgustingly greasy…🤢

username: LMFAOOAOAO

username: a single mom who works 2 jobs who loves her kids

yourusername: they get on my nerves all the time but i love my grown children 💓

logansargeant: sorry mom

yourusername: you and osc are an exception

alex_albon: oh, wow!

oscarpiastri: 😁

georgerussell63: you trying to say something, y/n….

yourusername: yeah give me carmen

carmenmmundt: i agree!

georgerussell63: wait-

username: you need to open a youtube channel!

username: your fit on the paddock ate today 😩

username: the picture of alex and logan w the snake 😭😭😭😭

username: can always count on y/n for content

yourusername posted to their story!

[caption 1; baby’s nap time 😴] [caption 2; taking my sons out for lunch 🫶🫶] [caption 3; my new child, surprise! it’s a boy!💙]

Jude Bellingham answers your fan questions!

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 1,503,028 others!

landonorris: all mine.

tagged; yourusername

yourusername: lando norris…. i thought you’d post this on your jpg account…

landonorris: nope😁

yourusername: could’ve been worse thank u

yourusername: all yours. forever. 🫶

landonorris: always.

username: so y’all saw jude’s interview too…

username: caption was 100% aimed a jude

alex_albon: can i tag him pls

yourusername: no.

landonorris: yes!

yourusername: no or i won’t take you to get kbbq tmrw

alex_albon: sorry lando

username: alex’s comment😭

username: oh wow

username: the 2nd, 4th, n last pic🥴🥴🥴🥴

username: their relationship isn’t a want it’s a NEED

logansargeant: oh!

yourusername: look away pls😞😔

landonorris: no keep looking so you and every other athlete knows she’s mine 😁

username: jealous lando omg 😵‍💫😵‍💫

maxverstappen1: take that tap in merchant!

carlossainz55: yeah and he won against you guys! put some respect on his name 🙄

yourusername: my football rivalry sons…

landonorris: no i agree w max

username: not the culers and merengues of f1 fighting 😭😭

georgerussell63: my eyes!😰😰😰😰

georgerussell63: but that serves him right! y/n is a taken lady!

username: red is HER color, no one can wear read

username: the fit is everything 😍😍

username: need someone to recreate the last pic w 😖😖😣😣

oscarpiastri: i really had to stop lando from posting more exposing pictures, you’re welcome btw mother

landonorris: i had plenty of other ones to choose from…

yourusername: thank u osc😭