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stripedstarsblueflags · 5 months ago

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If you could do 9 and 17 from the dialogue game for loscar it would be amazing (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

I read your another one with sargebon and it's dknfkskdnsjks *explodes from emotions*, please write more🙏🙏🙏

i swear i didn’t mean to write 4.7k, but what did i wake up to this morning? no beta we die like williams public image

here you go loscar nation 💙🧡

“You can’t keep it bottled up forever.”/“Feel better now?”

Pain is temporary.

Pain is irrelevant.

Pain is invalid.

He shouldn’t have been gritting his teeth. The ache in his jaw throngs all the way down his neck, and at some point he’d bitten the side of his tongue. Oscar doesn’t remember that; he just remembers driving, the scream of the engines crowding into one meaningless cacophony, staring down the beam wing in front of him and willing the pain to end.

It didn’t. It hasn’t.

He’d known the first race was going to be bad, but he’d been confident in the adrenaline, the 5.8 kilometers of pure endorphins to keep him above it lap after lap. And it had… sort of.

The pain had spread, though. As the race went on Oscar could imagine the single fracture widening like unraveled thread, jagged edges deepening and shooting outwards until his whole body was cracked porcelain. The pain was sharp, hot, razor-wire wrapped around his chest. It was almost a reprieve to be overtaken, because then the frustration and determination to make up the place would block out everything else for just a moment.

He didn’t finish on the podium, but that was alright. It was Lewis’s moment, and anyway he could barely lift himself out of the car, let alone a crown-shaped trophy.

It was easy to smile and nod his way through the debrief, easy to let Lando do the talking. Lando didn’t know about the break. A lot of the team didn’t know, because it was supposed to be minor, it was supposed to be temporary irrelevant invalid just a little setback. And it would be. He just had to have a little breather first, ice it, give it some time.

It’s almost sunset when he leaves for the car park. He’d spent too long in his driver’s room, slumped against the wall with his shirt off, eyes firmly closed because looking at the bruising made him nauseas. He’d told Kim a little about the situation, told him he’d call if it got worse, and asked to please not let anyone disturb him. Nobody had.

He’s fumbling one-handed with his keys when a voice says, “Leaving so soon?”

Oscar nearly jumps out of his skin, his keys clatter to the ground. “Jesus christ, Logan, don’t fucking do that.”

Logan puts up his hands innocently, but the gesture is incompatible with the smirk on his face. “Not my fault you don’t look up,” he says. “I was trying to get your attention.” He’s leaning back against a telephone pole, dark blue hoodie blending in with the evening shadows. Still, Oscar can’t help but feel snuck up on.

Oscar shakes his head. “You walk too quiet.”

“That’s a weird insult.”

“You’re weird.” Oscar starts to bend over to pick up his keys, but a stabbing pain shoots all the way through to his shoulder blades and he bites back a sudden shout. He has to abandon the motion midway.

Logan walks around the car and picks up the keys. He’s pulled his sleeves up over his palms, fingertips barely visible. Oscar doesn’t really feel the cold, but there’s already a slight flush over Logan’s cheeks and nose. His lips look redder than normal.

Logan’s voice softens. “It was really bad today, huh?”

Oscar looks away, breathing around the aftershocks. His first instinct is to lie, to offer a curt and stoic denial. To snatch back his keys.

But Logan would see through any of that in an instant.

“Not great,” he admits. He can hear the grimace in his own voice. “I just need to give it some time…”

“Exactly. Which is why I’m driving.”

Oscar rolls his eyes. “I just drove a Formula 1 car, I think I can handle a little traffic.”

“I’m not saying you can’t.” Logan’s smiling again, but it’s a gentle smile, knowing and fond. His eyes are bright, crinkled at the corners. He doesn’t give back the keys. “I’m saying you don’t have to. You’re staying at the Platt Hotel, right?”

”Yeah,” Oscar answers. He has half a mind to just make a grab for his keys, but the other half is thinking about left turns, how he has to move his arms so much more with a normal steering wheel. How long the drive gets at night.

“Cool, me too.” Logan looks down at the keys and unlocks the car, then steps forward and pulls open the driver’s side door. He has to get right into Oscar’s space to do it, arm practically reaching around his waist. There’s a rush of warmth as he moves closer, a fluid and unhurried step as if they’re not just millimeters apart.

Logan starts to turn back to him, and Oscar realizes that if he doesn’t step back their faces are going to get closer– a lot closer. The wind ruffles Logan’s hair, and they’re close enough that Oscar catches the scent– something fresh and summery, seawater and citrus…

He steps back in a hurry, uncharacteristically clumsy as he’s set off balance by a fresh cascade of memories. What being this close in the dark would’ve meant years ago. How they don’t touch anymore but his body recognizes the warmth, the chest-to-chest contact like a second skin. How the urge to stay in place, to reach his hands up isn’t conscious but muscle memory.

He nearly falls over at the suddenness of it all, the nostalgia that’s hit him like a truck within a single moment. Logan puts a hand on his shoulder, no more than a pat, but it’s stabilizing. “Sit in the back,” he says. “That way you can put the seatbelt on your right.”

Oscar lets Logan drive his car, and it shouldn’t remind him of anything.

Logan’s never even driven his car, this or any others. The city is unfamiliar and indifferent. They’re going to the same place, but not because it’s anybody’s home.

And then Logan connects his phone to the bluetooth, and Oscar remembers the playlist.

Seasons change and our love went cold…

From the backseat, Oscar says, “Remember the time you had to drive me back from that club?”

Logan laughs over the music. “How could I forget,” he answers, smiling at Oscar in the mirror. “You’re the worst lightweight I’ve ever seen.”

Oscar laughs even though it hurts. “It– it wasn’t that bad, I…”

“You had one drink, dude. One. And then I had to carry you off the charaoke stage.”

Oscar groans. “I was only 18. I shouldn’t have started with tequila.”

“You think?” Logan turns up the music. “Wow. What a throwback.”

I dare you to do something, I’m waiting on you again…

“It wasn’t that long ago,” Oscar points out.

“Guess not.” Logan tries to shrug and turn the wheel at the same time and ends up with something like an interpretive dance. “I just haven’t thought about it in forever.”

“Really?”

Oscar doesn’t know why his voice comes out so small, so hurt. He doesn’t know why he is hurt.

Maybe because of how the night ended.

How Logan had driven them both back to his own flat because he didn’t want to leave Oscar alone. How he’d tucked his arm around Oscar’s waist and lowered them both onto the bed because Oscar’s didn’t have the coordination. How they’d fallen asleep, and woken up, wrapped around each other.

And I still hear the echoes, the echoes…

“Just feels like a while ago,” Logan says nonchalantly, and Oscar decides to let it go. He has to let it go.

They arrive at the hotel sooner than Oscar expects.

They’d talked the whole drive home, not about anything important. Airport stories, golf, which one of them has the weirder teammate (every time Oscar thinks there’s no one wilder than Lando, Logan tells him Alex’s latest hot take in blatant defiance of all human logic, and Oscar has to concede). Even with the music, it felt somehow quiet in the car, and Oscar realized he couldn’t remember the last time the two of them had spoken alone.

They take the same lift, and Logan leans against the opposite wall. Leaning against every vertical surface in sight doesn’t come naturally to Oscar, but it suddenly looks like a good idea; his whole body aches. Sitting down in the car, his arm propped against the door, had been a reprieve. Now he’s all too aware of his own weight, his hand heavy and limp at his side like a stone. The pain in his chest is different now, less sharp and more pressure. Like the deformed seat is still around him, constrictive and unyielding. His body has been overcompensating without him even noticing, but he’s paying the price in his spine, the back of his neck.

He closes his eyes and the weight increases, a white-noise waterfall filling his head. The voice trying to catch his attention comes out muffled, incomprehensible.

“Oscar.”

Oscar flinches back into the present, which is a bad idea. He grimaces and tries to cover it up by talking too fast. “Um, sorry, what was that?”

Logan furrows his brow at him, his eyes darkening with concern. “I said ‘What floor.’”

Oscar looks at the unlit panel of buttons and realizing he’s been standing in an unmoving lift for almost a minute. “Eleven,” he says, after taking a moment to think about it.

Logan steps forward and presses the single button.

“What floor are you on?” Oscar asks, trying to sound casual.

Logan looks him up and down slowly, chewing his lower lip. He puts his hands back in his pockets and some sort of decision happens behind his eyes. “Don’t worry about it,” he tells Oscar.

On the eleventh floor, they step out together.

Oscar doesn’t even think about it. The only thing on his mind is his hotel bed, and how much he can’t wait to get in it.

It takes Logan following him into his room and closing the door behind him for his alertness to return. “Wait, why– why are you in my room?”

“What will you do after I leave?” Logan asks.

The question sounds loaded, almost like a trap. Oscar looks back at Logan, trying to search his face for any sort of answer, but his steely eyes are unreadable.

“Probably just… go to bed?” he says warily.

Logan reaches out and touches his lips.

It’s so shocking, so unexpected and jarring that Oscar completely freezes. Logan’s touch is feather-light, fingertips warm and gentle on his lower lip, drifting to the corner of his mouth.

And now the memories are back for real. How Logan’s fingers had once felt dragging through his hair, splayed over his shoulder blades, laced between his own. How his bitten-down nails had still managed to leave scratches, long red streaks, on his back. The pressure on his lips when he tucked his face into the side of Logan’s neck, pressed a kiss to the top of his head on long and empty nights, accidentally bit Logan’s lip behind the fence of a karting track because he was sixteen and stupid and had never kissed a boy before.

Logan’s voice is low, solemn, and Oscar tries to listen over the pounding of his own heartbeat.

“You have dried blood on your mouth,” Logan tells him. “You’re dehydrated. You haven’t eaten in hours. Your hair is tangled. You’re still wearing your watch. You haven’t taken your meds. You can’t keep this bottled up forever, Oss. You’re in pain.”

Oscar tries to form words, opening and closing his mouth around air before he can stutter out a sentence. Logan’s eyes are near burning with intensity. How much he sees is burning.

“I… I was gonna take care of all that.”

Logan shakes his head. “No, you weren’t,” he says.

Oscar shouldn’t let this happen.

He shouldn’t let this happen because they’d said it was over. They’d promised. It was a consensus, a mutual understanding. They both knew everything they had to lose. They’d ended it nearly three years ago and it had stayed ended.

He shouldn’t let this happen because they can’t mean anything to each other. They can’t be anything other than friends.

But that’s not what this is feeling like.

It doesn’t feel like friends when Logan runs a flannel under the sink and dabs the blood off Oscar’s lips, warm and wet pressure a relief against the teeth marks. When dips his fingers in the water and pushes Oscar’s hair away from his forehead, easing apart the tangles and sending tingles down his spine that are too familiar.

It doesn’t feel like friends when Logan takes his shirt off for him. When he lifts the fabric with careful hands, slow, steady. When Oscar whimpers as he has to lift his arm and Logan stops to let him catch his breath, free hand firm on his lower back. “Ssshhhh,” he whispers.

It doesn’t feel like friends when Logan sits next to him on the bed talks him into taking the painkillers, gentle and persistent. “You’ll sleep better if you take them, and you need the water.” Oscar mumbles his protests even as Logan twists the cap off a water bottle and puts it in Oscar’s hand. “It’s not weak to need help. I’m not here because you’re depending on me, I’m here because I care.”

Oscar swallows the meds and looks over at Logan. He can feel the wide-eyed, dumb shock on his own expression, because he’s not quite sure he heard right. Maybe in his exhaustion his mind was just telling him what he wanted to hear.

But Logan’s eye contact is steady, unwavering. His jaw is set. The silence that stretches between them is taught, electric.

Oscar leans closer.

”Careful,” Logan whispers, but he doesn’t pull away.

Oscar takes Logan’s face in one hand and kisses him, and it’s like they’ve never been apart.

Their lips move together and it’s like they’re eighteen, tasting alcohol on each others’ mouths and not caring, needing the contact anyway.

Oscar’s eyes slide shut and it’s like they’re seventeen, too-long phone calls over too much distance, whispering about the things they would do if they were together.

Logan cradles his jaw and it’s like they’re sixteen, but also not like that. Because then they were clumsy and unsure and heavy-handed with desire. But now Logan holds him like he knows where Oscar will break, and where he can push back.

They kiss and it’s like they never ended.

Logan pulls away too soon and Oscar chases his mouth, embarrassing and needy and not caring about it. Logan puts a hand in his hair and tugs his head back, not painfully but keeping the distance. “Breathe,” he commands.

Oscar does, not realizing how long he’d gone breathing in only Logan and abandoning oxygen. He pants, breath hot and ragged, lips wet. It hurts, but not as much.

”Feel better?” Logan whispers.

Oscar nods and closes the distance once again.

“You can’t keep it bottled up forever.”/“Feel better now?”

Pain is temporary.

Pain is irrelevant.

Pain is invalid.

It didn’t. It hasn’t.

He’d known the first race was going to be bad, but he’d been confident in the adrenaline, the 5.8 kilometers of pure endorphins to keep him above it lap after lap. And it had… sort of.

He didn’t finish on the podium, but that was alright. It was Lewis’s moment, and anyway he could barely lift himself out of the car, let alone a crown-shaped trophy.

He’s fumbling one-handed with his keys when a voice says, “Leaving so soon?”

Oscar nearly jumps out of his skin, his keys clatter to the ground. “Jesus christ, Logan, don’t fucking do that.”

Oscar shakes his head. “You walk too quiet.”

“That’s a weird insult.”

Logan’s voice softens. “It was really bad today, huh?”

Oscar looks away, breathing around the aftershocks. His first instinct is to lie, to offer a curt and stoic denial. To snatch back his keys.

But Logan would see through any of that in an instant.

“Not great,” he admits. He can hear the grimace in his own voice. “I just need to give it some time…”

“Exactly. Which is why I’m driving.”

Oscar rolls his eyes. “I just drove a Formula 1 car, I think I can handle a little traffic.”

Oscar lets Logan drive his car, and it shouldn’t remind him of anything.

Logan’s never even driven his car, this or any others. The city is unfamiliar and indifferent. They’re going to the same place, but not because it’s anybody’s home.

And then Logan connects his phone to the bluetooth, and Oscar remembers the playlist.

Seasons change and our love went cold…

From the backseat, Oscar says, “Remember the time you had to drive me back from that club?”

Logan laughs over the music. “How could I forget,” he answers, smiling at Oscar in the mirror. “You’re the worst lightweight I’ve ever seen.”

Oscar laughs even though it hurts. “It– it wasn’t that bad, I…”

“You had one drink, dude. One. And then I had to carry you off the charaoke stage.”

Oscar groans. “I was only 18. I shouldn’t have started with tequila.”

“You think?” Logan turns up the music. “Wow. What a throwback.”

I dare you to do something, I’m waiting on you again…

“It wasn’t that long ago,” Oscar points out.

“Guess not.” Logan tries to shrug and turn the wheel at the same time and ends up with something like an interpretive dance. “I just haven’t thought about it in forever.”

“Really?”

Oscar doesn’t know why his voice comes out so small, so hurt. He doesn’t know why he is hurt.

Maybe because of how the night ended.

And I still hear the echoes, the echoes…

“Just feels like a while ago,” Logan says nonchalantly, and Oscar decides to let it go. He has to let it go.

They arrive at the hotel sooner than Oscar expects.

He closes his eyes and the weight increases, a white-noise waterfall filling his head. The voice trying to catch his attention comes out muffled, incomprehensible.

“Oscar.”

Oscar flinches back into the present, which is a bad idea. He grimaces and tries to cover it up by talking too fast. “Um, sorry, what was that?”

Logan furrows his brow at him, his eyes darkening with concern. “I said ‘What floor.’”

Oscar looks at the unlit panel of buttons and realizing he’s been standing in an unmoving lift for almost a minute. “Eleven,” he says, after taking a moment to think about it.

Logan steps forward and presses the single button.

“What floor are you on?” Oscar asks, trying to sound casual.

Logan looks him up and down slowly, chewing his lower lip. He puts his hands back in his pockets and some sort of decision happens behind his eyes. “Don’t worry about it,” he tells Oscar.

On the eleventh floor, they step out together.

Oscar doesn’t even think about it. The only thing on his mind is his hotel bed, and how much he can’t wait to get in it.

It takes Logan following him into his room and closing the door behind him for his alertness to return. “Wait, why– why are you in my room?”

“What will you do after I leave?” Logan asks.

The question sounds loaded, almost like a trap. Oscar looks back at Logan, trying to search his face for any sort of answer, but his steely eyes are unreadable.

“Probably just… go to bed?” he says warily.

Logan reaches out and touches his lips.

It’s so shocking, so unexpected and jarring that Oscar completely freezes. Logan’s touch is feather-light, fingertips warm and gentle on his lower lip, drifting to the corner of his mouth.

Logan’s voice is low, solemn, and Oscar tries to listen over the pounding of his own heartbeat.

Oscar tries to form words, opening and closing his mouth around air before he can stutter out a sentence. Logan’s eyes are near burning with intensity. How much he sees is burning.

“I… I was gonna take care of all that.”

Logan shakes his head. “No, you weren’t,” he says.

Oscar shouldn’t let this happen.

He shouldn’t let this happen because they can’t mean anything to each other. They can’t be anything other than friends.

But that’s not what this is feeling like.

But Logan’s eye contact is steady, unwavering. His jaw is set. The silence that stretches between them is taught, electric.

Oscar leans closer.

”Careful,” Logan whispers, but he doesn’t pull away.

Oscar takes Logan’s face in one hand and kisses him, and it’s like they’ve never been apart.

Their lips move together and it’s like they’re eighteen, tasting alcohol on each others’ mouths and not caring, needing the contact anyway.

Oscar’s eyes slide shut and it’s like they’re seventeen, too-long phone calls over too much distance, whispering about the things they would do if they were together.

They kiss and it’s like they never ended.

Oscar does, not realizing how long he’d gone breathing in only Logan and abandoning oxygen. He pants, breath hot and ragged, lips wet. It hurts, but not as much.

”Feel better?” Logan whispers.

Oscar nods and closes the distance once again.

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ipegchangbin · 1 year ago

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Boypussy mingyu anon here! LOL

I was thinking of something like one night he gets home from practice, having already showered at the dorms before coming to your apartment. You're just now getting out and finishing up your skincare and mingyu walks into your bathroom frantic, looking so frizzled out. He won’t fess up what’s wrong, even when you ask a few times. Naturally, you grow worried until he finally takes his shirt off, and you're just like???

Then he proceeds to slide his sweats down, his hands a bit shakier here than before, and then when he’s in all his naked glory, you notice.

You notice that where once Mingyu's big cock resided there is now something different.

Something cute and chubby.

It’s silent as you take him in and it’s not because you're disgusted or disappointed that his dick has seemed to disappear, no it’s because you’re so turned on. How could you not be when he looks so pretty?

Tall Mingyu whose muscles shine under the bathroom lights and tan skin glows from the care he takes of it, standing in front of you with flushed cheeks, teary eyes, and the cutest cunt you've ever seen!

You know you shouldn’t be so turned on right now, shouldn’t be feeling like you just want to stick your face between his thighs. Appreciating the warmth that would enclose you, appreciate the taste that would drown you.

When you accidentally get too caught up in your head you must have said this a bit louder than a whisper to yourself because mingyu brows furrow in annoyance and lips pouty as he states that you can’t think about him like that right now!

You inwardly crumble a bit at that. He has the cutest pussy and the pupiest eyes and you're not allowed to think about taking his fat clit in your mouth, sucking lightly to build his pleasure up? The thoughts make you hazy so you take to agreeing, that yes you won't say anything else about it. Choosing to instead comfort him as much as you can through his nervousness.

You two proceed the following days like this. Mingyu being embarrassed and ashamed of this bizarre event and you being turned on, not phased in the slightest. You do comfort him when he lets you because since this has happened mingyu has been so reserved and refusing anything further than a kiss on your forehead or a side hug for a few seconds that feel like nothing at all.

You’ve tried to go further with him, reassuring him that until you both can figure out how to get him back to his original state you don’t mind this at all! It doesn’t bother you one bit, quite the opposite. Expressing your arousal at this situation and how much you desire to make him feel so good by playing with his chubby pussy.

He expressed his irritation at your words and advances leaving you to feel ashamed for some reason so you never broach the subject again.

Figuring mingyu must be turned off by you wanting him like this.

...That couldn't be further from the truth.

Mingyu doesn't feel like that, he could never be. He’s just a bit scared and nervous. I mean his dick disappeared suddenly and he doesn’t know how to be good for you this way, doesnt know how you want to take him or how you want him to take it. What if you are only saying that you want him to make him feel better? What if you are disgusted at this turn of events?

but what if you…aren’t? what if you really do want to feel Mingyu’s clit twitch on your tongue as he spreads himself open for you just like you said?

Eventually, Mingyu decides that all his overthinking isn't leading him anywhere near sadness or insecurity. Only leading him to yearn for your touch again. He wants it all too, wants to feel you moan into his cunt, wants to feel himself stretch around your cock as you ease your strap in. So he takes the steps to get that to happen.

You just got home from work a bit tired from the loud noises and chaos of the day. You set your bag down, eyes lifting up at the catch of light seeming to come from beneath your bedroom door. Assuming Mingyu is there you feel yourself become energized at just the thought of his presence. Opening the door in a hurry, a greeting on the tip of your tongue before you halt to a stop.

In the middle of your bed is your big pretty boyfriend sitting on his knees in nothing but an oversized white shirt. His hair looks freshly dried, leaving him looking so soft. He looks at you with sparkly eyes as if he’s excited for something. “You okay?” you ask needing to make sure of that before anything else.

Not trusting himself to speak yet, Mingyu just nods before looking down. He's nervous and so needy. The sight of you walking closer to him before stopping at the end of the bed to observe him causes him to want. He loves you so much and he wants you so so much.

“What are you sitting here looking all pretty for baby?” he looks up at the sultry tilt to your voice and feels himself clench. He notices he does that often when you squeeze him too tight or whisper in his ear too close.

“Can…we do what you said when this first happened?” he asks quietly and you tilt your head. He knows you want him to say it but he can’t not…not yet. “I say a lot of things Mingyu especially when it comes to you. Does it have anything to do with how pretty you are?” he shakes his head and you step closer. Trailing your hands up from his collarbone to his chin, grabbing it gently. “Does it have anything to do with what’s between your legs?” You ask flicking your eyes down to where his pussy is hidden by the large shirt and thick thighs.

He lets out a shuddered breath before nodding. Before you can say anything else he scoots back to the top of the bed, leaning against the headboard. He picks the bottom of his shirt up to sit above his belly button before opening his legs for you. You don’t even need to tell him to spread them wide because he automatically does. Automatically lets you take in all of him and you do.

Hair slightly in his eyes and one of his hands resting on his stomach while the other teases you. Gently scratching from his knee down to his thigh. Fingers caressing the inside of it before reaching his pussy.

Such a sight.

Being able to take in and admire him fully for the first time has you feeling dizzy. Mouth watering at the prospect of what's behind his chubby pussy lips, just how wet does your baby get at the thought of you touching him, at the sight of you needing him.

You watch as he sighs a little at the short contact before his eyes find yours again.

He takes two fingers and opens up his chubby pussy lips, showing you the wetness that coats him already. Showing you how his hole clenches in anticipation at what you just might do to it tonight. “Mommy?” he calls. You look up from his warmth seeing his face morph into a trap, a trap you fall into immediately. Willingly of course, always willingly.

He smiles at you tilting his head slightly. “You wanna play with it?” he asks softly. Your mind seems to have short-circuited, and you can’t find words right now resulting in you nodding dumbly. He lets out a soft giggle beckoning you to come sit between his legs. Once there he doesn’t waste any time in pulling you close, kissing you deeply, letting out a whimper when you pull back; biting his bottom lip.

He looks up at you, puppy eyes hazy as they stare into yours. “Want it Mommy.” he whispers to you as if someone might hear him if he speaks too loud. “I’ll give it to you baby, give you anything you want. You know that.” he smiles, sharp canines on full display. Pleased to hear that even now with this sudden change, that your heart still only beats for him. That your lust is only directed at him.

“Anything?” he asks, putting his arms around your neck. “Anything.” you reply.

He sits up and changes positions. He lays you back onto the pillows and sits on your stomach. You practically shake from anticipation, feeling the need for him to just go ahead and smother you with his cunt. Hoping that’s what he’ll do…and he does.

“Gonna sit on your face Mommy, gonna cum all over your tongue just like you wanted. okay?” He states, leaning over to lick at your earlobe and smiling to himself when you groan softly. “you gonna make me feel good? make your sweet boys pussy only know you?” he asks leaning up to gaze down at you through hooded eyes.

You nod but he shakes his head. “Can’t believe you if you don’t tell me it, can’t soak your face with my cum if you don’t tell me you want it and don’t you want it Mommy?” he pouts. moving to take his shirt off leaving him bare and your eyes wandering. “want it so bad baby. want to taste it more than anything, wanna make you feel s’good.” he laughs satisfied at your desperation.

He moves up, hovering over your face. Your eyes leave his face to the sight above you. You can smell him here, feel the warmth that radiates from his leaking pussy. Eyeing the way his pretty clit is just begging for you to pinch it but you don't get to.

Not tonight at least, letting Mingyu do whatever he wants with you, wanting nothing more than to make your sweet boy feel good. Before granting you both the reward he asks; “what do we say when we want things?” Despite slightly wanting to tell him not to push his luck, You don’t hesitate. You could never, you're weak to Mingyu no matter the cause and right now you would beg pathetically over & over just to lap at his cunt.

“Please. Please baby need your pretty pussy on my face.” you beg. Lifting your hand up for him to take. “what a good mommy, so polite.” he says with a breathy laugh pleased at the dominance he seems to have tonight before dropping his heat onto your awaiting tongue.

Poor mingyu though, you can only be pliant for so long until you need to have him underneath you gripping onto your arms in pleasure as you take him over the edge again and again. But you guess that can wait till another night :)

(omgg I hope you like this because I haven't written in forever and have been thinking about getting back on Tumblr so this was fun hehe!)

god GOD GOD GOD GOD THIS WAS SO GOOD FUCK OH MY GOD I HAVE NOTHING TO ADD

genuinely this just . outhhbf FUCK this is so good on its own anon your brain is driving me insane. i love the thought of mingyu being unable to admit how he feels and all of the mild angst turning into the most blessed kind of nasty face riding holy jesus

call me a dom with a praise kink because mommy reader being told that theyre good is . making me glitch. im going to ruin this boy so bad he needs his chubby clit all licked up and fucked thoroughly

anon may i have permission to draw boypussy mingyu and mayhaps please keep writing i cant get enough maybe im the one getting edged HOLY FUCK

#svt smut #sub!svt #sub!mingyu #💌 ipeginbox #<3 boypussy mingyu anon #IF YOU CANT TELL IM GENUINELY AT A LOSS FOR WORDS #UGH THE WAY READER THOUGHT HE WAS AVOIDING ALL THE ADVANCES BUT IN REALITY HE WAS YEARNING JUST AS MUCH #GOODBYE

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dreamland-academy · 9 months ago

Text

I chose my daughter for the @kirbyoctournament

Meet Princess Fijn!! She is named after SnowTheDemonFox's oc

Fijn’s Family (full names involved!!):

Queen Cerulenne Misty Ripple-Aquamarine (Mother)

Prince Mizu Blanche Ripple-Aquamarine (Oldest Brother)

Princess Mizt Coralie Ripple-Aquamarine (Mizu’s twin sister)

Princette Koi Calico “Sushi” Oceania (Fijn and her siblings’ adopted sibling, former cousin)

Princess Fijn Marina Ripple-Aquamarine

Fijn was a princess in an underwater kingdom called Eclipsara.

Her father passed away when she was a dolphin calf.

When Fijn was around 6 years old, she met a dragon-puffball boy named Atlas. She saved him when he was drowning in the water. Fijn brought Atlas to her mother, hoping the queen would help him. Cerulenne didn’t accept him since he was from Halcandra.

A few years later, when she was a teenager, she met Atlas again. They became friends, and one day, Fijn approached her mother and asked her if she could marry him, but Cerulenne said no.

Fijn wanted to still be friends with Atlas, but her family (except Sushi) didn’t respect him. But she was still secretly friends with Atlas anyway.

When she got older (Now 21), she (and Atlas) joined the Galaxy Soldier Army and befriended the rest of the members.

THE END!!

Personality:

Fijn is very sweet and cheerful. She’s nice to people, even people who are mean to her

Fijn doesn’t know how to do/use a lot of things

Nicknames:

Finny/Finn (Anyone)

Fijn Wijn (Sniper Knight)

Princess Fijn/Your Highness (Meta Knight)

Marina (Atlas, rarely)

Other Facts:

Fijn’s birthday is October 10th

Fijn doesn’t want anyone to know that she’s a princess

Fijn and Atlas are (literally) friends with benefits but they deny it

Fijn didn’t like how reckless Mizu was when he was younger

Fijn’s name means “Fine” in Dutch

Fijn and her family speak Dutch

Fijn is low-key scared of Sir Falspar/Percival

Fijn’s favorite color is white (even though it’s not a color but she likes it)

Fijn sometimes talks in her sleep

Fijn’s catchphrase is “Watch your back”

Fijn convinced everyone (except Meta Knight) that her royal crown was just an accessory

Fijn pretends that she’s a vegetarian, but she’s not

The End 🐬

#kirby oc #fijn the dolphin princess #please vote for her #i love her #with all my heart #Princess Fijn #plz dont come for me #i got permission from snow #thank you in advance #goodbye!!#i speak #i post #i still need a new name for this one #i ramble #Dreamland-Academy #oc (2024): princess fijn

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copper-skulls · 1 year ago

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yeehawgust 28: gunsmoke

THAT'S HIM!! THE GUY!! HE'S GUNSMOKE

Gaster aka Gunsmoke from @silverskye13 's undertale western AU fic, A Good Ol' Fashioned Hell-Raising! feat. blaster blaster blasters blasters bl

this was an absolute blast(GET IT) to work on, gosh

hd sneks

#yeehawgust #yeehawgust 2k23 #hell-raising #a good ol' fashioned hell-raising #undertale #fanart #fic fanart #digital art #krita #gaster #one of those drawings where shading just. DIDN'T WORK OUT. DIDN'T LOOK GOOD. no shading. goodbye <3 #at least the contrast stays sharp. yes I drew a decent horse and then shadowed it what about it hfakjs #note in advance: pls don't expect too many more cowboys from me #my only exposure to this genre is hell-raising. trigun. and lemonade joe #i feel like I'm missing something but my brain's just about ready to shutdown so hopefully it's. nothing important hfakjhs. goodnight

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toxicsludgeyaoi · 1 year ago

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Okay guys I need your opinion. Danganronpers. Should Komahina and Kamukoma be considered separate or the same ship. I'm of the opinion that they're different, but I want to hear what you guys think! This will affect brackets and preliminaries by the way. Not telling you how, just tell me what you think.

For non danganronpa fans, you can vote too! The simple summary of the two ships are:

Kamukoma is Izuru Kamukura/Nagito Komaeda. Komahina is Nagito Komaeda/Hajime Hinata.

Izuru is Hajime after getting a lobotomy and other surgeries to become the Ultimate Hope. They have different personalities and appearances, but after the game they seem to both still be around? Sharing a body or whatever. Komaeda is still Komaeda.

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loststarphounix · 1 year ago

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imagine... little red riding hood souda x big bad wolf tanaka-

instead of kazuichi going to see his grandma like the original story — he's visiting his sick friend, hajime, who he wants to surprise with a fresh batch of muffins that he baked himself! and then during his journey, he comes across the big bad wolf himself :0

this is super open-ended because i have little creativity atm-

(i saw art on pixiv about this and i just thought to tell you about it xD)

I hope we already know the drill! Long post ahead let’s go!

Let’s see:

Kazuichi lives in a cottage that’s attached to a smithy semi on the outskirts of the village. He mainly does commission work, primarily metalworking, but he does has a knack for toy making and secretly bakes but only shares with his friends. He hasn’t heard from Hajime in a while and after hearing from Nagito that he’s sick, decides to take him a basket of day old bake goods and go visit him.

Unfortunately, Hajime likes his privacy and as such, he lives in the middle of Jobberwock Forest, a dark, dense wood that stretches nearly 2/3 of the largest island in the cluster. Most spots in the forest that are perpetual night, where the Sun barely peeks through the dense foliage. Basically, it’s scary as hell. But Hajime is Kazuichi’s best friend - his soul brother - and he’s ill. He’ll venture into the deep, dark, evil embodiment of all things sinister forest to get to him.

So he gets ready, with his basket of muffins, apples and some leftover medicine from when he got food poisoning, as well as a book so his friend isn’t bored (he borrowed it but found his dull lol) and of course, his trusty outside wrench and pocket knife. He puts on his vibrant yellow hood, locks his home up and sets out for the wood. He’s SUPER careful to stay on the trail - like he’s habitually looking down and behind him to make sure he’s in the middle of the safe path. The woods always seem to change everyday, Sonia loves to say that it has a mind of its own which does nothing to sooth his frazzle nerves.

He’s been walking since the late morning and thinks about taking a rest, when he hears a twig snapping. The sound it so loud it makes him jump. He turns to where he thinks it originated from, but another loud sound is coming from behind him and he whips around to see two red eyes staring at him in the shadows. Gripped in panic, Kazuichi turns tail and runs, leaving the safety of the path. Our bumbling boy is booking it - somehow not tripping on upturn roots until finally he’s in a clearing a few miles southwest of his friend’s home.

He’s so exhausted that he collapses onto the nearest stump, unaware of the hulking figure behind him. The basket wobbles a bit on the ground, but it doesn’t topple over so he breathlessly calls that a win.

“Good day.” A voice says behind him and it makes Kazuichi jump like a startled cat. He snatches his knife as he moves.

He whips around and sees, possibly the hottest guy he’s ever seen. Tall, Kazuichi has to tilt his head up slightly to look him in the eye, with pale skin and dual red and grey eyes. And wearing all black clothing aside from a purple cloth wrapped around his neck. The guy even had a scar over the grey one. Hot, but most definitely a thief.

“I-I don’t have any money!” He says, hoping the other will let him go, but the other only tilts his head.

“Apologies, I did not mean to frighten you, mortal. I rarely see one of your denizens venture this far into the dark wood.”

Kazuichi can only blink. Ok…maybe he wasn’t a thief. More likely a nutcase. Pity, dude was kinda hot.

“uh…yeah. I got spooked by a giant animal and ran.” Looking around the are, he realized in growing horror that nothing looked familiar. He doesn’t even seem to notice that the guy is staring at him intently, eyes zeroing in on him sucking his bottom lip between sharp teeth before speaking. Or the way his eyes trailed down the length of his body in interest.

“You are greatly fortunate this day, Persephone. I was reared in these very lands and can navigate you to the more safer paths.”

He didn’t really understand all of that, but the stranger seemed to want to help him and despite his suspicions, he was lost. Maybe he could trust the weirdo, just this one time.

“Really? And you won’t…like do anything bad? To ,e?” He squeaked, hand gripping his knife.

But the stranger merely shakes his head. “Not at all. I, the great Gundham Tanaka, ensures your safety through these dark wood,”

“Gundham.” Kazuichi silently mouthed, eyebrows furrowed. Tale and creepy had such a weird ass name. But he’s gonna help him out so he may as well put it aside for now.

Shaking his head, he places his knife carefully back in his basket and bends down to retrieve it. Again, he somehow misses the look Gundham gives his bent form and the slight peek of tongue running across his bottom lip. The man is damn near salivating lol

“My name’s Kazuichi’s by the way. It’s nice to meet you.” The pink haired man flashed a nervous smile, which the other returned with more ease and a bit something that makes Kazuichi’s stomach flip.

“I believe I am the more fortuitous between the two of us.”

They begin backtracking through the woods and as they do, Gundham gently starts to ask Kazuichi questions - what does he do, where does he live, does he live alone. Simple questions. Nothing untowards or suspicious about them.

And Kazuichi answers each one truthfully, not really mindful of his answers because the forest is much darker than it was when he had started and having the other by his side eases him. He also asks Gundham a bit about himself as a distraction, but the man deflects; only reiterating that he grew up in the Jobberwock Forest, that he has lived there all his life and that he’ll keep Kazuichi safe.

Finally, they are in more familiar territory and the path unfurls before them. Tears of relief well in Kazuichi’s eyes. He’s so happy he could kiss the dirt road. Just before he can kneel down and actually do it however, Gundham pinches the sleeve of neon yellow hood to get his attention.

“You had mentioned your comrade has fallen to a malignant force, correct?”

“Huh? Oh yeah! Hajime’s sick.” He almost forgot his friend for a moment what with his fear of the forest and this mysterious man. “I should hurry to his house before it gets dark.” Being out here at night was so much scarier than being out in the daylight.

“Fret not, you will ensursedly arrive at your destination before the dying light of the sun. I merely asked, for do you see these fauna?”

Gundham pointed to a patch of flowers. They were small, with white petals and tall, thin stalks that bent towards a shaft of sunlight. Kazuichi’s eyebrows furrowed, but he gave a slight nod.

“These are medicinal plants.” The man informed, giving the other a charming smile. “They can assist in curing your friend. Merely steep in a concoction of tea and he shall be remedied!”

Kazuichi stared at the flowers, eye wide with disbelief. “Seriously?! But they’re all over the place!”

“This glade is their preferred choice for germination. You should collect them before you go.”

“Right!” Kazuichi took a step closer to the flowers but stopped, peaking over his shoulder to look back at Gundham with an awkward smile. “Hey, thanks again for helping me back on the path. I’m sure I took you away from something important-“

But Gundham merely waved his hand, dismissing the notion. “Do not fret, it was far more important to ensure your safe return. Sadly, I do have some business to conclude, and must leave you here. I can assume you know the way to your companion’s domicile from here?”

“Yeah everything looks a lot familiar now. I should get to Hajime’s hut in a half hour or so.” Kazuichi nodded, giving one last smile in gratitude before setting off to pick a few of the plants. He calls out one last time. “Thanks again man. I really owe you!”

As the mechanic bent down, Gundham retreated into the shadows, his eyes ensuring the other was too engrossed picking flowers, before he transformed into his wolf form and raced through the forest. He knew the quickest way to Hajime’s home, and in his quadrupedal form, he made it there in just under ten minutes. Barely skidding to a halt, he just had enough time to change back before Hajime opens his door.

He only looks a little pale, but he’s standing up straight and his breathing wasn’t labored. Excellent, this soothes his fretting mind somewhat.

“Singularity! I require a boon.”

“Hello to you too, Gundham.” Hajime chuckles, inviting the other in. “It must be important- you rarely ask me for anything.”

Crossing the threshold, Gundham wasted no time retelling his encounter with the most entrancing creature he has ever met, going on about his aura and mystical powers for surely he could not be a mere mortal if Gundham, Overlord of Ice and Ruler of these Woods, is so successfully ensnared. And through it all Hajime listens, a little bemused, but actively listening to his rants.

“I’ve been meaning to have Kazuichi meet you, but you usually keep to yourself.”

“My boon is thus: depart from your realm so that I may have succeeded in completing our courtship! In return, I shall assist you in your own quest for romantic endeavors.”

Hajime blinks, stunned. “Hold on. You want me to leave my house, just so you can make a move on my best friend?”

Well, when put like it sounds unsavory. Gundham fiddles with his scarf, a hot flush spreading down his neck.

“And I don’t need help in my love life thanks,” he said sardonically. How about this: I give you my home for the night - only tonight! - and whatever happens, happens. But you owe me by helping around my property and hunting. Whatever he brings in his basket that he made are mine. And you stay away from my bedroom.” The last sentence was said with such severity that if he were a lesser demon, Gundham would quiver.

Instead he chuckles, a low, dark sound that would seem threatening to anyone outside their friendship, but was really one of agreement.

“Very well mortal! I accept your bargain.”

Hajime takes entirely too long in Gundham’s opinion to pack an overnight bag, but he departs and Gundham prepares for the mechanics arrival. He already ensured Hajime’s personal abode was sealed (Hajime locked it) and that Kazuichi would not be suspicious of the changes dwellings (Hajime wrote a note explaining). Now he only had little left to disguise his aura and appearance. The borrowing of Hajime’s night shirt and pants and pulling the shades down in the guest room shall do the trick.

And now, with infinite patience, he awaits his prey.

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