#I hope that you are all having better days than mine!

[poeticblissme]

I will be as honest as possible when I answer this because I truly know and understand your struggle, and I want to be as transparent with my thoughts and feelings on this to properly try my best to help you see a different perspective so bare with me it may be a bit wordy.

I have spent a good amount of my life wishing I could do things in the entertainment industry. I have memorized countless movies since I was 8, even before that really. My whole heart is into doing things like acting, it’s been a Dream of mine to be on movies and stages. However, it has been countless dead ends for me. I would fall off because I felt like it was never going anywhere, that and I am constantly stuck doing jobs and things I absolutely detest, knowing where my heart is at. But I also felt unworthy, I felt like there are others who are clearly better than me, that I had no real space to even try it because of everything else never worked out for me? Why would something I actually enjoy and want to do for the rest of my life work out.

Over the years, I feel into deep stages of sadness and bitterness because I saw others succeed, I have seen people who have done less receive more and I had a fear that if I try, it was just bound to fail. My family have talents, and the one I love I don’t even feel I’m fully good at because I’ve seen how others do so much better. I can’t do much, I don’t and can’t do what I see everyone else can. I looked at myself as ordinary and unimportant. So I stopped trying. I stopped looking. I wanted to give up entirely because feeling empty was better than facing this crippling mindset that made it hard to breathe.

However, around 2020, when the pandemic came around, I got more into spirituality. And through those months of me finding myself again, I started taken small intricate steps to try and change this mindset. It was so hard, the amount of self accountability I had to learn for what I love and what I let my mind control in terms of outward action was difficult, but I can tell you what I have learned and I hope this gives you a piece of hope or motivation to take these steps even with your fear.

As a human being, it is natural to be afraid to do something you feel in your heart is good for you. Be it a passion, a relationship, or anything that forces you to step out of your comfort zone to do something you never imaged for yourself before. You will not know what you are doing sometimes but that is apart of the journey, you don’t know what your doing until you have done it enough times that you finally do know what to do and integrate that into your life slowly but surely. The point is to put in the effort anyway because you have that feeling that it is something that will make you happy. Trying is the reassurance to your soul.

The feeling of being stuck is your survival and comfort mindset trying to keep you where you think you are safe. If this is something you feel you want to pursue, then you have to force yourself to propel yourself forward, you have to work with that fear, make mistakes, ask the questions, do the research, experience the experience of the unknown fully, otherwise you will live with the regret of what could have been.

I have done so much since I started this little journey of mine. I have done things I never imaged myself doing, and now I am in a place where I do still yearn for more, but I am also in a state of gratitude because I have gone so much father than I thought I would when I had stopped trying completely. I am not fully in the place I want to be, but the places I have been are motivation for me to keep trying because I know that it is indeed possible somehow someway. The things I didn’t know, now I do. The things I still don’t know scare me, but I am doing my best to open to the unknown and let it make me better and stronger so that when (Yes not if, when) the next pieces of my dream come to me, I will be even more ready than I was the day before.

All of this to say, Please. Please chase that dream of publishing your book. Even if you feel afraid, take your hand and slowly guide your feet toward the shore line. Dip your toes in slowly and learn how the water feels, step on a shell every now and again, take the pain and confusion and learn from it so when you step on it again it does not hurt as much, and then you will learn how to avoid the shell completely. Before you know it, you will have completely submerged yourself in the waters you were afraid to go into, and your life will fill that much more full because you took those steps you were once afraid to take. 🤍🖤

I’m gonna confess something here, gonna get real raw with it.

But I think, no I know, I am terrified of trying.

I so desperately want to publish a novel, multiple even. I have them in the bag. But I am so scared of moving forward even an inch.

I have been writing since I was ten, I have been doing these monster stories since 2017.

And I have gone nowhere.

I am so frightened of the next steps. I believe if I don’t know what I’m doing I can’t do anything.

I’ve been working this out in therapy but like…I do feel stuck. I’ve imbedded myself so much here and in comfort I don’t know what to do.

What do I do? How do I publish? Who do I ask?

Is it me? Do I have to do this now?

I wanted to say this, in hopes putting it out there I can pull myself out of the complacent pit I’ve made and move along. But yeah, I’m terrified and I really have no clue what to do. Everyone else who is publishing seems so far ahead and they know everything. But, maybe that’s also an excuse for myself I need to face.

[crushedsweets]

ASK DUMP!!!

i use the rough pencil brush, marker, sumi, and watercolor (wet and fluffy)! depends on the piece/my mood but i lean towards rough pencil the most

AHH OMG WAIT THIS IS SO COOL TYSM FOR SHARING !!!! IM SO HAPPY TO SEE OTHER PEOPLE HAVING FUN WITH GOOGLE SITES LOL ITS MY FAAVEEE

AUUUGHHH THANK YOU ANON!!! ur so kind. pls dont get food poisoning.

WAITT HIS HELLA TRUE I SEE THIS. I love getting to see new songs n stuff fromy all. wish i could animate

HAHA IM GLAD i really like drawing her!

me when i was obsessed with overwatch with a few months: 😎😎😎😎. ty >:)

wait this is peak idea. keep me updated

i mean..... by time someone is makingher mashed potatoes theyd prob get a fork in her hand..but...anything can happen

HAHA YEA thats how it is on mine too! i just love how its inverted on PC

give me more to work with and it may occur. . .

closes the door and walks away .

these r sitting in my inbox cuz i keep saying im gonna draw everyone w mullets but im realizing im so lazy its probably not gonna happen. i think someone else should take this idea though.

? ? ?

im gonna answer this one day later in a better post bc this is ltierally the perfect question for me but i somehow dont have an asnwer. just wanr to say thank you for this question while i still try to answer it.

shes making a tiktok as we speak

i posted a liu drawing after i got this ask. wheres the first born.

guess what hes gonna be wearing in the VN :3

never done this before...youre right.

i think ben would tell her to say it and she would

LET HER OUT NOOOOWWW!!!

i hear this actually i can see it 100%.

id love to do this for all the adult characters (or in general an anatomy thing with them) but i keep forgetting so im replying here hoping itll hold me accountable to do it LOL

had toast this morning

i think most people see liu as older and jeff as younger, including me! i think swapping everything around is super fun. i saw an AU where toby was older than tim/brian once!! thought it was so cool

stay safe

wait this breaks my heart a little bit actually . . . THE SIBLINGS EVERthey kill me so much

what is the context here . .

BEST MF DAY OF THE YEAR

wait this is actually peak cuz ive been rethinking liu a lot cuz my friend and i have an Au where she wanted him to live in england for a while. LMAAAAAOOOO. redguydhmis liu is canon

[joelsprettyprincess]

Taming of the Shrew - Part 2

Pairing: dark!Arthur Morgan x f!reader Summary: Although you've ended your relationship with Arthur, he gets you to agree to one final rendezvous. Series-wide tags: Toxic relationships, manipulation, obsessive behavior, smut, secretly unprotected piv, babytrapping, pregnancy, canon-typical violence, slight canon-typical misogyny. Wordcount: 3.7k A/N: I was not expecting that much love on part 1! I'm so glad yall enjoyed! Here's part 2 and where things get juicy 🤭. And before you ask, yes they had condoms in 1899!! They just weren't very good.. Also, I do not profess to be an expert on pregnancy, I just looked things up and hoped for the best. 😭 Sorry if anything's inaccurate. This chapter contains smut. And as always MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Tags: @dandelion-ranch @i-will-give-you-love @amaranth-writing @heloixe @buneio @warmsideofthepillow03 @thoughts-of-bear @luzzbuzz

Part 1

Several days had passed since you told Arthur to never speak to you again.

You didn’t mean it. You couldn’t have. Your love, though short, had burned like a phoenix: though it was currently snuffed, Arthur knew it would soon rise again.

He knew better than to approach you again, though. So he wrote a letter.

My love.

My darling, my princess. I am in pain while writing this. Not because of any physical injury, but because I miss you badly indeed. My heart burns for you, for your touch, your skin on mine, even just one last time.

I am certain you feel the same way. If you do, please meet me at our spot near Ringneck Creek at noon next Monday.

I swear this will be the last time I will contact you. If you don’t show, I’ll know your decision is final. However I know you will. I know our love was something real. Please don’t make a fool of me.

Forever yours,

Arthur

Arthur posted the letter on a Monday, giving you nearly a full week to make a decision. He was on edge after that, wondering if you would actually show. Would you bring your father, or even a bounty hunter, to capture him? Or would you just not show at all?

Thankfully most everyone in camp left him alone; the news of your loud departure had spread fast. There was the occasional ribbing from Micah, but he was like a mosquito buzzing in everyone’s face. Arthur paid him no mind.

Dutch told him it was a waste of time. 

“Women are a complete mystery, son,” he told him Sunday night, puffing on his cigar. “Trust me, you’re better off being single forever.” He didn’t seem to care that Molly was behind him in the tent, hopefully sleeping.

But he didn’t know the inner workings of Arthur’s mind. Didn’t know what he planned to do.

Monday morning, he bathed and trimmed his beard. As much as he hated to admit it, Arthur was nervous.

He scoffed. Headshotting O’Driscolls barely raised his heart rate, but the thought of seeing you again had him jumpy like that Kieran boy.

Arthur rode over to the spot early. It was a good isolated spot a little ways away from the creek, where you two had slept together a couple times.

He spread down a blanket and cleaned his guns while he waited for you.

About half an hour later, he heard the crunching of leaves and turned around. Your familiar form entered his field of vision; suddenly, Arthur was breathless.

You were here. You’d actually come. And you appeared to be alone.

You hitched your horse next to his, then came down to the blanket. “Hey,” you said, smiling softly.

Arthur pulled you down beside him. “You came.” He cleared his throat. “I knew you would.”

“Yes, well.” You smoothed your skirts. “Just can’t help m’self, I suppose. But listen, Arthur…this is the last time I’m seeing you. Seriously. I don’t even know why I came here–”

“Alright, shh,” Arthur interrupted, taking your hand in his and softly pressing his lips to yours.

“Mm,” you sighed, immediately melting into his touch. He might be rough around the edges, but Arthur surely knew how to treat a woman. You’d already forgotten what you were gabbing on about.

Arthur wasted no time in deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue past your lips. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured, one hand cupping your cheek and the other on your hip.

You spent a few minutes exploring each other’s mouths and letting your hands wander. Eventually your positions shifted so Arthur was nearly laying on top of you. He spoke again.

“Come back,” he whispered. “I can’t live without you.”

That voice. It was sweet as honey. It made you want to follow him to the ends of the earth.

You avoided his gaze, pursing your slightly swollen, glazed lips. “Arthur, I can’t–”

“You love the bloodshed,” he spoke in your ear. His hand went under your skirt and ghosted over your bloomers. “You crave it. Stop actin’ like you don’t.”

“No–”

Arthur silenced you with another kiss, capturing your lips and claiming them as his, as he had done so many times before. Yet it never got old; the lusty looks and burning touches lit you on fire.

You whimpered as he slipped his hand inside your bloomers.

“We both know this doesn’t lie,” he murmured, barely grazing your folds. He kept his bright eyes steadily focused on you while he used just one finger to tease you.

A quiet moan escaped your lips.

Arthur seemed eager to get on with it. He lifted your skirt and removed your underthings, carefully setting them beside you on the blanket.

“Did my pretty girl miss me?” he breathed, massaging your thighs. You whined just a little, already anticipating his touch.

Arthur traced your bare cunt, enjoying watching you squirm.

“Arthur,” you whispered in a choked voice. 

He shucked off his pants, then laid down between your legs. 

Arthur was gentleman enough to service you first. He put your legs on either side of his face, and breathed in the natural scent of your pussy, again barely grazing the already soaked lips with his finger.

“S-Stop teasing me, dammit,” you moaned. He smiled. It was almost fun to see how quickly he could get you to come undone, begging for his touch.

Arthur started with small licks on the inner parts of your thighs. Your legs immediately tried to come together, but he held them apart and kept licking. Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to stay still. 

He traveled up your thighs and paused just before he got to your cunt. Taking two fingers, Arthur spread your lips apart, marveling at the amount of slick already coating your entrance.

“Ah- ah, d-don’t- mmgh,” you cried. His touch was so depraved and satisfying. 

Arthur dove in, pushing his tongue into your warm, sticky entrance. He gripped your thighs with his hands and held them up as he fully ate you out. He got messy with it very quickly, suckling on everything he could get a hold of.

You cried out and gripped his hair hard, bucking your hips. This kind of pleasure was completely unheard of and forbidden for girls like you, and that made it all the more filthy. You loved it. You loved every second of it. No man had ever touched you like this before, and you doubted any man ever would.

He removed his mouth for a second and rubbed circles around your sweet spot. “You’re lovin’ it, aren’t you, sweet girl?”

You breathed in and out loudly. “Yes,” you whined shamelessly. 

Arthur pushed his tongue back in, appreciating how your walls tightened around him. He swore he could feel your heartbeat, pulsing in time with his.

You grinded against his face, spreading your juices everywhere, going crazy at the lewd noises being produced.

“Arthur– oh, Arthur, yes, please–”

You were getting close. It never took long for you to cum, but apparently you were touch starved right now.

Abruptly, Arthur pulled back from your pussy, breathing heavily and licking his lips.

You panted too. “Why’d you stop?”

He paused, then quickly pulled off his boxers. Oh.

Arthur pushed you down again and rubbed his girthy, veiny cock up and down your soaked pussy. 

The thick mushroom head was poking at your entrance, and you wanted to let him in, but…

“Do you have…protection?” you whispered.

He nodded. “Course.” He pulled a condom packet out of his pants pocket. A primitive thing, to be sure, but it was part of the plan.

Arthur pulled it on, then nosed his tip so it was just breaching your entrance. You sighed loudly, spreading your legs a bit more.

He pushed in. A creamy noise was produced, but even louder was your pained moan. It was a stretch to fit him in, even when he had prepped you first.

This was only the second time he’d gone all the way like this. There was no reliable way of avoiding pregnancy, so you simply didn’t allow him to do it. But this was a special occasion. After this, you were done with each other, forever.

Arthur sighed and pushed into you even further, watching your pussy lips greedily suck in his cock.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Letting me in so nicely.”

He started to thrust in and out slowly. You threw your head back and panted, whining loudly and mumbling his name.

His cock repeatedly filled you to the brim and you squeezed your tight walls around him. Your juices quickly coated the condom, allowing him to more easily push the rest of his cock in.

Soon he was pushing in and out, all the way to the burst of hair at his base. Arthur groaned lowly, biting your shoulder and holding onto your hips with his big hands, kneading your ass.

After a few minutes of bliss, he shifted positions; Arthur pressed your legs almost to your chest and held them there, hitting deeper and deeper into your sticky cunt. 

You moaned loudly, finding his hair again and holding it tightly. His full balls slapped against your ass.

“Like that?” he muttered. “You like that, you uppity little–” He groaned loudly, going faster and rougher.

“Arthur, Arthur,” you sobbed, curling your toes. “Please, I’m g-gonna–”

With a muffled cry, you came undone on his cock, toes curling, legs shaking, cunt spasming and letting out more of your juices all over his cock and the blanket.

“That’s right, let it out, sweetheart,” he gasped. “I’m close too, baby, shit–”

Arthur pressed himself into you and stilled, panting, eyes tightly shut. You could feel his cock twitching as he rode out his orgasm in your soaked through cunt.

His lips collided with yours in a sloppy, desperate kiss, and he slowly thrusted a couple more times before pulling out.

The condom was smeared in your juices.

Arthur sighed. “Hopefully it didn’t break. I tried to get a good one.”

You chuckled nervously. “Hopefully not.”

He helped you clean up, wiping you down and putting your clothes back on. You hoped his smell (it wasn’t a bad one, just distinct) wouldn’t cling to your clothes.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this,” you told him as you prepared to remount your horse. “But if you ever decide to stop being an outlaw…you know where to find me.”

“I love you,” Arthur said simply.

You flushed, and looked away. 

“Goodbye, Arthur.”

You rode off.

Arthur waited till you were out of sight to smile.

You were really gullible. A condom, seriously? Even pulling out was more reliable. These things broke more easily than a cheap lock. Even if it hadn’t, he’d cut a small hole into the tip that ensured he’d painted your walls white. If it dripped out, you would probably just assume it to be your own juices.

Now it was just a waiting game.

Two months later.

Your maid, Elisabeth, stared at you frightfully as you bent over a bucket for the 3rd time this week, vomiting horribly. You breathed heavily, then vomited again. There was nothing even in your stomach, which made it so much worse.

“Are you alright, ma’am?’ she squeaked, standing by with a towel.

You were too nauseous to answer. You clutched your stomach, head spinning and mind racing.

Your stomach had been in shambles this week and the last, and it was getting concerning.

After a few labored breaths, you grabbed the towel and wiped off your mouth. “Let's visit the doctor.”

Elisabeth gave you some cool water to sip, which helped a bit but not much. You could hardly stand to get on the carriage, and then it was like you were on a merry-go-round with the way it was hitting every bump in the road.

You leaned over the side and emptied your stomach yet again.

It was possible this sickness had a terrifying explanation, one that you couldn't even begin to imagine. Lord, protect me, you prayed despairingly. 

One agonizingly slow and nauseating ride later, you pulled up next to the doctor's office. Elisabeth had to coax you down, and she was clearly scared you would projectile vomit on her. The world was swimming around you and had a hazy feel.

You stumbled into the office and leaned against the cool wall.

“You alright, ma'am?” a voice asked. It was Dr. Williams, an older gentleman who'd been in Rhodes for years.

“I-I think I have a fever,” you whispered, fanning yourself. “Been throwing up everywhere.”

He quickly escorted you to a room in the back, and you collapsed into the chair. 

Dr. Williams examined you, looking inside your mouth and pressing various points on your body.

“Any symptoms besides vomiting?” he inquired.

You shook your head. “Don't believe so.”

“When did they start?”

“I'd say…maybe two weeks ago.”

He hummed and thought for a bit while examining you. “Is there a chance you could be with child?”

You started, then stopped, then froze.

No…

“Err,” you stuttered.

He waited for your answer.

“I-I-...well, I suppose it ain't impossible,” you admitted fearfully.

Dr. Williams nodded. “Unless you have some strange fever, it is my opinion that you're suffering from morning sickness.”

Your heart dropped to your feet and started beating like a jackrabbit's. No. No. Lord, please.

“That can't be true,” you said desperately. “It-It- was so long ago…I don't…”

“It takes a bit for symptoms to present,” the doctor explained.

“B-But I can't, I can't be,” you cried, panicking. “You don't understand, my life is over if I'm with child. Over!” You stood up and started pacing around.

“Admittedly it’s still too early to tell for certain,” Dr. Williams allowed. “However, I have seen this many times before. There are options–”

“No! There are no options!” you snapped. “I am the daughter of an oil baron and a society lady! J-just imagining the shame, the disgrace–...my mother will kill me. And if she doesn't, I'll be sent away to the corners of the earth.” 

You burst into tears at this declaration, falling to your knees and covering your face in shame. Dr. Williams hung back, perhaps sensing that you needed a minute.

After you collected yourself and stood up, you said in a quiet, cold voice: “There is no way I am pregnant. I thank you for your expertise, Dr. Williams, but in this case you are incorrect. I simply have a fever. Good day.”

You swept out of the building with your head held high, collecting your maid and getting back on the carriage. 

The two of you had barely left the town borders before you broke down and started crying again. Pregnant? A child? You? It could not be true. It could not. 

And…and definitely not by Arthur, of all people. He was like a firecracker, burning hot and dangerous, the exact opposite of a…father.

Even that word burned acrid on your tongue.

“Do you need somethin’, miss?” Elisabeth asked tentatively.

You sighed, wiped your face, and shook your head sadly. “No…no thank you. I'm alright.”

The ride back home was silent save for your sniffles and forlorn sighs. You refused to accept this possibility.

You felt you would rather be tarred and feathered than even think about telling your mother about your condition. Your outburst at Dr. Williams had barely covered it; your parents were continually telling you to act perfectly, to never step out of line. Even though they were far from perfect.

Your mother was the biggest hypocrite you knew. She thought you didn't see her inviting the help in for "tea". Well, you did, not that you cared much. It was just sickening that she set expectations for you that she herself had never reached.

She'd threatened you with the nunnery before, after catching you with one of the stable boys. Said that “wicked girls were destined for the deepest pits of hell.” Hmph. She was definitely an expert on the subject.

As for your father, well, he wasn't much better. Though he didn't verbally abuse you like your mother, he viewed you more like a liability among his property. You were certain he would marry you off if it would benefit his emerging empire. He would see this…predicament as something that could damage his reputation. If your mother chose to send you away, you doubted he would make much of a fuss.

Thankfully, the churning in your stomach faded on the way home, and only your mind remained in shambles. 

You tried to avoid your mother when you arrived at the manor, but of course she was in the front room, waiting for you.

“What did the doctor say?” she inquired as you put down your things.

“Just a mild fever,” you replied shortly, then power walked to your room. But she followed.

“Are you sure? Do you have a temperature? Did he give you any medicine?” she pressed, following your impatient footsteps right up to your bedroom door.

“Mother, I'll be fine. It's not serious,” you said angrily, then closed the door behind you firmly.

You waited until her heels clicked away down the wooden stairs, then collapsed on your bed and sobbed some more.

My life might be over.

A month and a half later.

Your life was over.

Completely and utterly.

The nausea had not stopped, and in fact it got worse the week after you went to the doctor. That had been the peak of pain, but it still remained for another two weeks afterwards, lurking like some shadowy beast.

Your dresses, tailored exactly to your measurements, had become just a little bit tighter. At first you had brushed it off as an indulgent diet, or just stress weight, but even your mother had commented on how your dress was pulled tight over your torso.

After that, you took care to hide your body under the heaviest dresses you could manage. But it was summer by now, and staying out of sight was a tall order.

Your mother repeatedly asked you to go to the doctor again, and perhaps seek out a second opinion, and you refused, insisting that it was just a fever. But you could tell she wasn’t believing you. She gave you strange looks when you said you felt nauseous yet again.

It was a stormy day in June when you finally had the courage to take off your clothes and examine your body in the floor-length, gilded mirror in your boudoir.

A mistake.

Your blood turned to ice as you saw the unmistakable bump that was forming.

Your breathing accelerated along with your mind, thoughts racing and jumbling and colliding, coming to one stunning, awful conclusion:

I’m pregnant.

You were pregnant. With child. An expectant mother.

What a joke.

You? A mother? What a ridiculously absurd notion. You would sooner be a clown in a traveling circus.

And…that man was the father. The man that haunted your thoughts and your dreams, the man whose scent still clung ever so faintly to one of your riding dresses. The man whose mere name sent shivers down your spine.

Arthur Morgan.

-

You put your clothes back on, then left the room, intending to get a snack, but before even making it to the stairs your mother pounced on you.

“Alright, I simply must insist that you tell me what is really going on,” she declared. “No fever lasts this long, and you have no temperature at all.”

You tried to dodge her, but she blocked your path, clearly dead set on getting an answer from you.

“It’s nothing, Mother, I told you before,” you said, irritated. It absolutely was not nothing, but you needed time to plan your strategy. 

“If it’s nothing, why have you been nauseous for the past…” She paused, then narrowed her eyebrows. 

Before you could step back, she poked your stomach with one finger. You of course involuntarily jumped back.

“What- What are you doing?” you gasped, nervous.

“Let me see your stomach.”

“What?”

She pushed you towards your room. “I said, let me see your stomach, girl. Lift up your skirts.”

You scoffed, heart pounding like a drum. “Why would I do that?”

You were forced back into your bedroom, and your mother closed and locked the door behind her. “I just want to look at it.”

This was quite a pickle.

“I- I really don’t think that’s necessary, Mother-”

She grabbed at your skirts, impatient. You jumped back. “Stop it! Fine, I will.”

She was going to find out eventually.

Your mother crossed her arms and waited with anticipation as you slowly lifted your skirt. The blood was rushing in your ears and you prayed to God that you would survive the next five minutes.

Eventually your skirt revealed the still developing but definitely noticeable bump you had.

The room was dead silent. Your mother stared at your belly in shock, lips slightly parted. 

Then her mouth closed and formed a hard scowl. “Would you care to explain the meaning of this?”

You blinked several times, trying to find your voice, but it was lost and long gone.

“Are you-” She swallowed hard. “Are you…with child?”

She stared at you. Her glare kept you still and pinned you down like a bug on display.

You eventually nodded, wordless and terrified.

“And who is the father, pray tell?”

You just stared at the ground.

“Answer me, girl,” she said sharply.

There was no way you were going to tell her that. It would genuinely be better for her to assume you were so loose you couldn’t even pinpoint the father.

Your mother pinched her nose, and sighed, shaking her head. “We’re going to have a little talk with your father when he comes home. Remain in your room; I have no desire to see you anymore.” With those pleasant parting words, she stomped out, slamming the door behind you.

Once her footsteps faded away, you sat on your bed, numbly thinking of what to do. 

Your father was sure to agree with any punishment your mother dreamed up. He was more like a manager than a father, and he had no qualms about letting a bad employee go.

Or…or maybe he wouldn’t? Perhaps his indifference would work in your favor, and he would tell your mother not to bother? Maybe he’d even pay someone to take care of it.

These were all hypotheticals. There was no telling what would really happen until it actually occurred.

Your father was due home soon. It was just your luck that he was taking a half-day in the office.

Ugh.

End of Part 2.

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter XXVII]

Word count: 4k

Warnings: gets a little brutal

Pairing: Dracula x reader

AO3 link | masterlist

A/N: Hello, lovelies! I watched the Robert Eggers Nosferatu, ran home and finished this chapter. I was stuck on it for I don't know how long. Hope you like it <3 Happy 2025 - it'll be 5 years since I started this, let's hope it doesn't take another 5 to finish the next 5 final chapters.

The cabbie swore under his breath when I slammed the door after me. I gave him my address, cracked the window open and breathed in the smell of rain on pavement and on the nearby Kensington Gardens in an attempt to cleanse my senses of Mallory’s bitter anger.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I muttered to myself. Swearing fixed nothing but it was often relieving. 

It was all escaping my control. All of it. 

Months ago, I had thought myself so smart when proposing that deal to Count Dracula. I really thought I could win that, or was that my prideful ego poking its head out again? A latent deathwish, that’s what I had, and there came death prancing to my door and tempting me with a delicious form of self destruction. That’s what I had done, utterly destroyed my former self, not without struggle and not without loving my own destroyer, and yet, through it all, I never considered the safeguards of my deal would fail. When I proposed to Dracula that he would only turn me into a vampire when I told him to, that I would die on my terms, I fully thought I was in control. Handled. As easy as winning an argument in court. 

Of course, had I known all the variables, I would’ve thought of more safeguards. Not that they would have mattered. This slow withering of my human self was surely a blessing compared to utter obliteration of my humanity. This way I could at least ease myself into what being a vampire entailed. 

On the other hand, simply being turned must be like ripping a band-aid off. One day I could walk in the sun, and the next I was changing day for night and drinking blood. Easier perhaps.

Dracula threw it in my face how I had been taking note of my ever increasing heightened senses and ignored it all. My singular thirst for his blood had already started to translate to thirst for human blood — Julia’s scarlet blood spurting from her delicate neck right into my killer’s, lover’s, maw, for instance, and now Mallory’s pulse ringing in my ear like a church bell calling for mass. 

All of that, even the unbearable pain of growing fangs I could bear, perhaps, and could learn to control it. 

Dracula always did say that I had better self control than he did. The fact that I had lacked control in hypnotising Mallory, practically taking a backseat while the blossoming vampire took over control not only of myself but of her, was the scariest part. A desperate attempt to keep Mallory close, and I had no choice in it. 

The car came to a stop across the street from my house and I parted ways from the cabbie. Pulling my trenchcoat up to shield myself from the pitter patter of rain, I looked down the street, two houses after mine, and sure enough, the police car who had followed the cab all the way from V&A was now parked. I raised a hand in greeting to the two officers, even though I didn’t know their faces, and they waved back.

I fished my keys and phone from the bottom of my purse, and rang Dracula as I unlocked my door. I kicked the door shut behind me and went upstairs to my bedroom as I waited for him to pick up. 

Voicemail answered.

It was still daylight, so Dracula was most likely asleep, and he slept like the dead. If Renfield hadn’t arrived yet – an usual occurrence after dusk to carry out his services – the call would probably go unnoticed.

I called him again and put the phone on speaker as I threw my purse on the bed. The sound of raindrops hitting the window glass was muffled by the thickness of my curtains when I pulled them shut. Enclosed in darkness, I slipped out of my clothes until I was left in my underwear. 

The phone’s beep was cut short as the call was answered. “Yes, my darling?” Said Count Dracula in his velvety voice. “How was it?”

The familiar weight of his voice made me sit down on the bed, half naked and vulnerable as if he had spoken to me within the room. 

I almost wished I had gone back to his place instead of mine to feel some comfort. It was a silly thing to wish for. After last night, when Dracula had celebrated what my pain meant, disregarded my fear, my despair, all because I was finally a perfect bride to be, it would be stupid to think he would react any differently to what I had done to Mallory. 

“It was fine,” I replied, lying down on my bed. I put the phone to my ear. “No surprises. Mallory is still mad at me. She doesn’t want to see me again.”

“Well, nothing that can be done for that anymore, I suppose. Where are you now?”

“I came home. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I’ll try to get some rest in the afternoon.”

I counted three heartbeats before he replied.

“Will you come by later?” 

I knew him well enough at this point to know that he had fought his initial instinct to question me. He knew I was scared, and I knew he was scared that I would run out of fear. The fact that he hadn’t questioned me boded well in a way. Progress.

“Not tonight,” I said in a small voice, staring at my ceiling and noticing a spiderweb on the corner. The silky brightness of the web glimmered as if the spider could tailor webs made from light. By the size of it, the spider had made a home in my room for some time now. Only now did I have the eyes to notice it, and yet, in the darkness of the room, I shouldn’t have been able to see it. “I don’t think I can handle being close to another person tonight.” Realising how that sounded, I continued. “All I can think about is blood. It’s a wonder I didn’t make a victim out of the cabbie on my way here. I would rather not risk it again.” Dracula laughed on the phone. I winced. “At least you’re having fun.”

“Y/N, of course I am,” he said, a smile on his voice. “Nothing will make me happier than seeing you take your first victim.”

“This isn’t fun for me!” I jerked myself upright on the bed. “Can you try being understanding for once? For fuck’s sake!”

“Understanding?” The word was bitten out. “I have been nothing if not understanding so far.”

“Yes, it was very understanding how you almost killed Diana. So very kind of you to grant me a few more days after you used Mallory against m–”

“I’m not having this conversation again.”

“Then listen to this. I understand that you finally have confirmation that I’ll survive the change and that you’re happy about that. Great! At least I won’t be a shell of myself like your first brides. I think it’s fucking amazing, too, but it is not easy for me.” I inhaled deeply as if saying so much had stolen my breath. “I don’t know how to deal with this.”

“You had months to come to terms with it, Y/N. You asked me hundreds of questions. I showed you all that I could.”

“It doesn’t make it any less scary!” My face fell to my hand as my hair fell around my face like a curtain. “I didn’t think I would have to try to control myself while still human.” Tears fell to my bed, synchronising with the rain outside. “Please, can you try finding some compassion in yourself? I have no one but you now.”

“I don’t understand, Y/N,” he said. He sounded calm, and sincere. “But I will make an effort to. If you allow me to, I would like to take some of your blood tonight and see for myself.”

Closing my eyes, I let my weight go and lied on my side with the phone pressed to my ear against the bed. The knot on my throat joined the ever growing pain on my head and jaw. Another migraine was coming.

“You have my permission.” I sighed. That was the best he could do at the moment, and I would take it. “And then we'll talk.”

“And then we’ll talk,” he repeated. “Darling, have a shower or a bath. Try to take yourself out of your body, if you can.”

“I’ll try to sleep, and dream, hopefully.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Okay. Bye.” 

Two beeps indicated that the call disconnected. 

I rolled over on my back and stretched my arms at each side of me. What remained of my tears ran down my cheeks and dried on my hair. 

There was nothing to stop it now.

This was it. I was not dying on my terms, but Dracula’s. 

Food didn’t taste the same – from an old brew of reheated tea, to a simple strawberry scone becoming nauseatingly sweet and finally everything was starting to acquire a dry tastelessness. Migraines ensued after eating what my body could no longer accept. Perhaps the pain was the body trying to purge the unnecessary nutrition that food provided, while also begging for something else. It was happening now after trying, and failing, to eat my favourite sandwich from V&A Café. It had happened at the party as well, although the circumstances made it worse. And the very first time was the day after I had drunk deep mouthfuls of blood from Dracula’s wrist while overlooking the city from inside the London Eye.

I ran my tongue over my teeth to feel the small bumps on my gums, which throbbed in response to that prodding. Tiny fangs threatened to protrude from there as they had last night. After drinking Dracula’s blood they had virtually disappeared. Their insistence to make their presence known was a harsh, and painful, reminder of what I could have done to Mallory. 

And wanted to do. Still did.

I raised my arms in the air. The wounds were almost gone, leaving only pale outlines of where Dracula had bitten me two nights ago. 

His first bite had taken weeks to heal completely.

A chill coursed through me that made all the hairs on my body stand up straight. Only then did I realise how cold I was. I pulled my duvet around me, cocooning myself within it and closed my eyes, wishing I would be pulled away to somewhere else, or to another life where I had already dealt with everything and was living happily ever after. A nice fantasy.

In my dream, I was cocooned by wings which whisked me away, sending me floating into the comforting, soft clouds of dreamland. I breathed in and out to savour the sweetness in the air. In and out. In and out. Like teeth biting and releasing. In and out. Sharp teeth and red blood. Sweet, red and intoxicating. 

I don’t want these dreams.

Conscious in the back of my mind, I managed to push the thoughts out, and quickly my subconscious conjured Dracula’s presence to run his hands down my back, massaging, kneading and counting my bones as he had done once to put me in a trance. I counted each bone aloud. Would my bones change too? Become hard and unbreakable? Yes, darling, said death, you are wholly different down to the last bone. His hands, so rarely delicate, turned me gently and I stared up into the dark pits of his eyes. Smiling, he said he would like a taste of his beloved. 

His beloved – me. 

Say you love me. This is my dream, I can make you say it in my dream.

Anything for his beloved, he said, anything I wanted if only I allowed him a taste first. Obligingly, eager, I turned my head to the side to expose my neck in exchange for his love. 

And love poured on me. Cascading, washing over me, so warm, comforting, so red, all enveloping, filling my lungs, my throat, until I was made of love and could feel nothing else.

A pull near my navel jerked me awake. 

I stared at the ceiling as my brain finished waking up. Rolling on the bed I looked towards the window, and although the curtains were closed, the light escaping from the corner had to mean it was still daylight. 

The pit of my stomach jerked again and growled, begging for substance. My hands covered it automatically, as if trying to stifle the sound and soothe it.

Footsteps coming from the lower floor reached my ears. 

I lied there, in wait, processing that there was someone in my home and I had heard it walls and metres away.

For once in this life, I wondered who was more in danger – myself or the intruder? 

Something coiled behind my navel. I wondered if it was just hunger — and what sort of hunger was this? For food or something else? – or my new found instincts playing up as they often did when I was around Dracula.

Pushing myself out of bed, my toes pointing and landing, carefully as if I was a ballerina to not make any noise, I made my way to the corridor. As I hugged the bannister, the cold wood touched the naked skin on my stomach, and only then did I realise that all I wore was a bra and hot pants. Returning to my room, I grabbed my robe, a navy blue silk that somehow always disguised the fact that I had just woken up.

On the first landing of the stairs, trying to keep as silent as possible, I crouched to peek around the bannister to catch a glimpse of my living room, populated only by my library and a coat thrown over the couch.

A meow echoed up, coming from the kitchen, and a woman’s voice cooed back, “I know, baby, let’s see if aunt Y/N has anything for you.”

“Di?” I called. 

“Oh, Y/N!” She exclaimed from downstairs, unseen. “I didn’t expect you to be home. I’m sorry to barge in.”

“No worries. I’ll be down in a second.”

Diana, cradling one of her cats like a baby, smiled at me when I turned the corner on the kitchen. Another one of her babies, a tuxedo cat, twirled between her legs, meowing non stop. 

“I swear I’m not usually this nosy– hey, stop squirming, I know you’re hungry.” She adjusted the calico cat on her lap, Hedy Lamarr, and the other one at her feet was Liz Taylor. She had Laurence Olivier as a cat, as well as Clark Gable, the Hollywood cats, but they were nowhere to be seen now. “I ran out of cat food and tuna so I came to see if you had any left in your pantry,” Di explained, looking apologetic. “I’ve been between meetings all day and couldn’t find the time to run to the store.”

“I think I have some of their food, from when you were in Scotland,” I said, uncrossing my arms and stepping around the kitchen island towards the pantry. Hedy jumped from Diana’s arms to the island, tail swinging in expectation. 

“Are you feeling sick?” Diana asked from behind me. 

Rummaging through shelves in the pantry, I barely spared her a glance as I continued my search for cat food. “I’m fine,” I said, putting more strength in my voice to make me believe it too. “Why do you ask?”

“Well. It’s Monday 3pm and you’re home in your robe.” At her words, my hand hovered over the box of pasta I was about to move. “And you look dreadful, to be honest.”

“Do I?” I asked, absently.

My mind was torn on wondering how awful I looked and how it could be Monday when I had gone to sleep on a Saturday after brunch with Mallory. Had I lost a day? Slept all through it, or simply did not have any recollection of it? 

Neither of those options boded well.

“You look sickly pale, Y/N,” Diana said. “Have you been eating lately?”

“Food poisoning,” I muttered as I closed my hand around a can of cat food. “Here, I found it.” I spun around to give it to Diana and found her too close for comfort. At this distance, I could see the specks of gold and green in her eyes and the fine lines around her eyes that she spent so much money to get rid of. I could smell her breath from here. And yet, she was still at an arm’s distance away. “I need to go back to bed.”

Bed, in the safety of my room, where I could cage myself until night came and so did Dracula.

Pushing the food to Diana, I dodged past her, breath held deep inside my chest, and made way to the hall. Feeling as if my head had disconnected from my neck, I steadied myself against the doorframe as my knees started to go weak. My vision went white. 

“Oh love!” Diana exclaimed behind me. A clatter followed by a meow and quick steps echoed in the kitchen before arms encircled my waist, pulling me up. “Gosh, Y/N, you’re heavier than I thought. No matter. Come on, let’s rest in the sitting room.”

“I’m fine,” I grumbled, pushing my forehead against the wall as if that could help me stabilize.

“You don’t look fine. Straighten those legs, come on, can’t do this without you. Hells, I’m getting old, Y/N.” Commanding my brain to focus on one sense, I did as she told me. “Atta girl. Now to the sitting room.” She hugged me close, arms squeezing below my ribs and expelling all the breath I was trying to hold. I gasped for air. Diana’s breath filled my nostrils with the smell of tea, blueberries and yoghurt – her last meal. Concealed beneath that lay a subtle scent, discernible for its lively sweetness.

“Di– I need you to go.” I barely recognised my voice as my own. The thread of consciousness keeping me alert identified a searing pain in my jaw that spiked up to my head. 

“Nonsense. One foot in front of the other. Come on,” she huffed, nudging the back of my knees with her legs. She chuckled, the sound so foreign and happy that for a moment I held onto it and the pain of hunger dulled for a second. “Remember when you got home so drunk you couldn’t climb up the stairs? I found you asleep in front of the stairs, covered in all the coats you could find. You looked like a nestled kitten.”

“The day you ordered McDonalds for lunch instead of cooking us lunch on Saturday,” I murmured. 

“Sacrilege but yes. First and last time, but you needed a good hangover cure, to be fair, and nothing better than that.”

“You carried me to the sitting room.” 

“Pushed you, more like it.” At that, she pushed me a little harder to make my legs move, and my hands flew up to steady myself, finding nothing but air to grasp at. Diana’s shoulder pressed under mine and her hip nudged mine to distribute my weight towards her. My head swivelled, quickly finding a comfortable spot on Di’s arm when my neck proved a little too feeble to carry it. Eyes adjusting through white blotches in my vision, the bite on Diana’s neck peaked back at me between her silver hair. Two punctures glowing at me as a wolf’s glare in the dark. A fat tear formed on the corner of my eye. I closed my eyes in shame, knowing that tear came from desperate hunger and not fear. Deep, ravenous, gut wrenching hunger unlike any I had ever felt. “Y/N, don’t pass out please. Almost to the sofa now. If you fall, you’ll take me down with you.”

Yes, yes, I would.

I bit my lip, and felt a distinct sharpness that should not be there.

“Di, I’m so sorry,” I uttered, hardly believing the words as tears spilled from shut eyes. Wrapping my hand around her arm, telling myself I needed to push her away – please, please, away , AWAY – and instead, it pulled her as in the inescapable grasp of vine that squeezes a tree and constricts its bark, never letting go unless plied off. Unwillingly, my body shifted closer, angling towards Diana. “So so sorry,” I whispered, voice nearing a hiss as my eyes opened again.

I nuzzled closer. 

I felt Diana tense up. My grip grew tighter on her instinctively. She could bolt now. Deep in me, just as I knew there was something wrong with me, Diana knew it too. Her fragrance kicked up as her heart spiked with adrenaline.

“You’re scaring me, Y/N.”

“I know. I’m scared too,” I confessed. “Be very still. Very still,” I asked. “I’ll let you go.”

“Let me go,” she echoed. “Y/N, I don’t know what you’re playing at–”

“Disbelief. I’ve been there,” I said, oddly finding empathy while hunger burned hot. “Just be still. It’ll make it easier.” My gaze shot up to Diana’s profile. Her lip quivered as she peered at me from the corner of her eye, as if looking at me straight on would be too much. Somewhere in the house, a drumming started. So loud it startled me and my body jolted.

Diana moved.

But I moved with her as she tried to push me off. 

Our arms and legs tangled as this body unexpectedly gained a strength unbeknownst to me. It pinned her arms to her side as it locked around her. She spasmed, trying to fight this body that no longer belonged to me. Hunger was its own entity, and it screamed for sustenance. In the throes of pushing against me, she kicked at my feet and lost balance. We both went down to the floor, all my weight on top of her as if I was the rock tied to her feet that dragged her to the bottom of a lake. 

Silver hair spilled on the rug. Revealed, my gaze zeroed in on the crook of her neck where a vein pulsed. I think I heard her scream but the drumming was so loud it was easy to ignore. My unseeing eyes barely registered my friend’s expression before leaning down and biting on the vein that Dracula had shown me.

Blood inundated my mouth, entrancing me completely. A hollow sound escaped from her as her blood slid down my throat like hot honey. Her hands pushed at me and I held them to the ground. Nothing could perturb this feeling. I was gulping light. My skin felt so hot it might have blistered. I lapped up the blood that spurted from those tiny cuts I had made. Too little. A fountain of blood is what I needed. So I bit, ripped with teeth and syrupy blood bubbled up to be savoured. It pulsed in streams with every desperate beat of her heart.

I swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed.

I filled myself up until her hands, intertwined with mine, slowly gave up. Distantly, I heard her gurgling a breath. And with it, the river of blood streaming down my throat slowed to a trickle to match the dying pace of her heart. 

My tongue poked at the wounds I had done, pressing them as before in search for the even flow of blood of only moments ago, and this time, I felt the texture of torn skin, ripped to ribbons, the awful rubbery muscles of Diana’s neck touched my tongue back, and I recoiled. I sat back, eyes focusing on the scene beneath me, and I kicked away. The hole I made on her neck seemed to stare at me as if the wound I made had life to accuse me. It gaped, like a second, gory mouth, open in shock. 

The stairs poked my spine as I pushed myself back, stopping me in my tracks. What remained of blood pooled under Diana. Scarlet entwined with the silver of her hair, contrasting with the waxy tone she had acquired. She could just as easily be confused with a broken doll, limbs askance, parted lips, and the broken porcelain of her neck.

An awful gasping sound came from her, making me gasp in return and scurrying to her side. Her hands spasmed as I came closer. Somehow still alive and yet when I looked in her eyes, there was barely any light there.

“I am so sorry, Diana. I didn’t mean to. I-I don’t know what to do. Di? Do you hear me? Are you there?”

Her eyes rolled to meet me. Maybe she could survive this - I thought for a second - but her eyes lost the determination as she stared at me, a teardrop running down her cheek, and went empty. 

“No- no…” the single word from my lips dragged out in the chilling silence of the hallway.

Knelt before her, my tears poured onto the corpse of my friend. 

--------------------------------------

@5thelement @jar-of-moondust @festering-queen @deborahlazaroff​ @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @girlonfireice @saint-hardy @xoxodracula @princessayveke @dreamer2381 @25ocurer @vampirescurse @blue-serendipity @iwasjustablur @sunscreenfeverdream @daydreaming136 @bittenlove @newyorkrican922 @feralstare @soph3228 @jmor25 @clussysposts @werwulfy @rainbowgoblinfan @soulofsalt @mistandmoss @lddracula @skelior @cesspitoflove @mymindpalaceismywonderland @candleslut @sweet-delila @jackbootedfucks​ @tilldeathripsusapart​ @recklessgiraffelife @isayweallgetdrunk

[cosmicdreamgrl]

pretty in pink 🩷 for @cordiallyfuturedwight [ cr: 0613data, namuspromised ]

[pushing500]

Randy Random is really trying to get the Jones' Boys some company...

Mechi knows when he's outnumbered.

Looks like we'll be rushed off our feet making bedrolls for a little while!

First | Next | Previous

[mitamicah]

Happy one day late 2 months of tavastia 9.6 🥹💗💚✨

This was such a wild ride in the best way - I wish all the best for the guys and hope they'll meet again one day 💗💚

Thank you guys for letting me spam you updates yesterday btw x'D

[mel-loly]

-“Don't take your anger out on others”

I instantly:

[casualhedonists]

DATING IS SO HARD WTF

[sleepyagent]

I want someone to love me quietly and loudly at the same time because Im an idiot

[eastofedean]

8i've been thinking about the last asks i got today. and i think it's better for me to take a step back from this account. i know the anon didn't mean anything by it, but i still feel like i am being a negative presence on here and weirding people out with who i am is nothing i want. so, i am not deleting or anything. i am just gonna be less present with sharing personal things or leaving tags. I'll probably be more active on my second account where i don't have that many followers :)

[seventh-district]

several days and 15 thousand words later, i am relieved to report that the suffocating urge to Write Something has been sated and no longer has me in a chokehold

[we-dont-talk-about-potato-nonono]

I hope your day/night gets better 💜 sending positivity your way💜💜

(You don’t have to answer)

jfkfjfje YOU’RE AN ANGEL OK PLEASE NEVER FORGET THAT 😭✨💫👍💖🫂🩵

thank you so much for this message ❤️ i’ll get there in the end (i hope) this ask means a lot <3 sending positivity on your way too!!

[kyouka-supremacy]

Well. the new chapter!!!!!

[soleilapproves]

Boxer!Sukuna who makes you kiss his gloves before his match for good luck.

masterlist

His team had left the locker room and it was just the two of you now. You were sitting on a bench while he organized his bag. “I didn’t know you got so many freebies from your sponsorships.” In your hand, was a brand new boxing shoe that he received from UnderArmor for a sports shoot campaign.

“Eh, they’re not really what I need in the actual matches but I use them during training cause I don’t wanna waste ‘em,” he mumbled. He seemed to be more on edge than usual. During his last match, he lost by a landslide, having a sour taste in his mouth from the experience. He blamed you because you weren’t there to kiss his glove prior to the match.

You turn to look at him staring down at his gloves.

“Sukuna.”

“Yeah?” He turned to look at you. No smiles, just a deadpan expression. You walked towards him and held his face in your hands. You could tell he was nervous about the fight even though he had won so many before.

“Honey, what’s on your mind?” Your voice was sincere and comforting for him. “What if I’m in a slump? My last match was so bad. I’ve never lost like that. What if I’m on a losing streak now?”

You get on your tippy toes and kiss his cheek. “Sukuna, you’ve worked hard have you not?” He nods. “And you feel like you’ve trained well this time.” He nods again. “Then why are you so worried? Is it because you were distracted last time?”

He sighs and wraps his arms around you, burying his head in the crook of your neck in the process. “Look, I don’t know if you think it’s weird but when I see you outside the ring, I feel like I have a reason to win. It drives me to fight better. I had a really shitty day last time and when I didn’t see you I just didn’t feel like giving my all.”

Your heart felt like it was being torn to pieces after seeing your husband sulk. “I just felt burnt out. I was hoping that once I saw you then I’d feel better.”

You hugged him tighter and kissed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sukuna, I promise I’ll never do that again.” You start rubbing your hand up and down his back in hopes to calm him down right before his match.

“Kiss my gloves for me?” he asks as he pulls away. You nod. He takes his boxing gloves out and places them in your hands. You leave a delicate kiss on each of them, your gloss leaving a small sparkly stain. He takes them from your hand and kisses them on the same spots as you did, maintaining eye contact with you throughout. “You’re my good luck charm, you know that?” he says as he strokes your head.

You show him a teethy grin and nod.

“And you’re mine.” Your reply made him smash his lips to yours. “I’ll be sure to win now that you’re here.” He mumbled against your lips.

—

No thoughts. Just boxer!sukuna

[kavehater]

Wow that was a very good session of haterism this is why I love this account 😻🤞✨

^^ also me cause I’d go right back to her wahoo