#since i mentioned mine for a second there?

[hsunrry]

wedding // one shot harry styles

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: based on this request.

words: ~3,5k

warnings: smut18+, cheating, angst (i guess), mention of being hit, fingering, oral (f receiving), protected sex

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ready to see me?” you asked excited from behind the bathroom doors that was built in your room. tomorrow is your wedding and you wanted to show your best friend Harry how you look like in the dress.

“go ahead.” he called. when you walked out from the bathroom and stepped to the room he swallowed thickly. “you’re…” he cleared his throat. “i mean you look beautiful, really.”

“thank you.” you only smiled. he was sitting at the bed you were sharing with Denis- your future husband. situation was difficult. you loved him, of course. but there was a person you loved more, unfortunately. you didn’t really wanted that marriage, but your mother was pushing it so hard it was almost painful to hear all the time, so you decided to just give in and do it for your own sake, since you never even thought that your feelings could be reciprocated. little did you knew- you were the love of his life. you thought the same, you were sure he was the love of your life. but instead of getting married with him, he was looking at you in wedding dress, ready to marry someone else. it was painful, for the both of you. he was looking at you from the bed, like you were the most beautiful woman in the world. because for him- you were. he let out shaky breath.

“can i tell you something?” his eyes roamed over your body in this dress one more time. you nodded, sitting next to him. “this gonna sound crazy, god, i don’t even know why am i doing that.” he chuckled nervously.

“come on, i heard a lot crazy stuff coming out of your mouth.” you smiled, looking at his nervous expression.

“i’m in love with you.” he looked at you and you thought that you’re gonna throw up.

“wait, what?” you spoke after few seconds, blinking few times. he nodded slightly.

“yes i… i know you’re getting married tomorrow and that it’s probably the worst time i could tell you this, but i want you to know before i lost you for good.” he confessed. his leg nervously bouncing up and down. you were only looking at him with shocked expression.

“why are you telling me this now? i’m getting married tomorrow Harry.” you shook your head.

“because i know that if i didn’t say something, i’d have to watch you with some other guy for the rest of my life. i can’t keep pretending that you’re not the love of my life, because you are.” he said, feeling already that it was too late for that. he swallowed, looking at you. “i just… please, i just need to hear that you don’t feel the same and i’ll try to move on. i need to hear that.” he looked at you desperately.

“i can’t say it.” you said quietly and you could see hope in his eyes. you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “this it’s so complicated, god, why didn’t you said anything earlier?”

“i was afraid that you don’t feel the same.” he grabbed your hand in his, squeezing it gently. “do you feel the same?” you only nodded. “so why did you decided to marry him?”

“it’s just… i never thought you could feel the same about me. ever. i said ‘yes’ to him, mostly for my mother. she was pushing it so hard.” you explained. he wasn’t looking at you, but at your hand in his.

“please, don’t marry him… you could be mine. all mine.” he looked at you again. “i love you, i’ll do it for the rest of my life, i’ll treat you better than he treats you. you’re the love of my life, y/n.” desperation in his voice was almost killing you. the way he was looking at you. you could see the love in his eyes, it was so different from what Denis was doing. you knew he’d treat you better. but most importantly, that you loved him more than you could ever love Denis. in very different way. “please, don’t marry him.”

“this is crazy, you know that?” your eyes lingering at your intertwined hands. he chuckled lowly, bringing your hand to his mouth, kissing it.

“i know, but maybe we’re just crazy for each other.” he smiled, giving your knuckles another lingering kiss. you bite inside of your cheek, thinking. he was hopeful, that you’ll choose him. “please, don’t do that. spend your life with me, i promise i’ll make you happier than he ever could. i’ll give you everything and i know, that you know i’ll do that. you know me like no one else.”

“jesus, this is so complicated now.” you sigh, looking at him.

“i know and i’m sorry. i should’ve say something sooner, but i was too scared, so i’m telling you this now.” he shifted his body closer to you, cupping your cheek with one hand. “please, tell me you want me. say you don’t want to marry him. that you’ll be mine.”

“Harry…” you licked your lips slightly, looking at him this whole time. you swallowed quietly.

“say it, baby. say that you’ll be mine.” he watched your tongue slowly licking your lips. he started to caress your cheek with his thumb, leaning closer with his face to yours.

“fuck it.” you gasped, pressing your lips to his. he groaned when he felt the contact, immediately kissing you back. your lips moving slowly, feeling perfectly against each other. he pulled you into his lap, cupping your cheek back right after. his tongue begging for entrance to your mouth when he licked your lower lip. his free hand going up and down your waist slowly. you both moaned quietly when your tongues met, his hand went from your waist to your thigh, touching you over the material of the dress. “take this thing off me, i don’t need it anymore.” you said between kisses. he pulled back from the kiss, looking into your eyes.

“are you sure?” he was searching in your eyes for hesitation, anything really. but when you nodded he smiled. “i can’t wait to take this off you then. i want to mark you, to show everyone that you’re mine.”

“baby, are you in there?” you could hear knock on the bedroom door and Denis’s voice right after. you both froze. you looked at him.

“i have to tell him that it’s over.” you bite inside your cheek. he nodded, giving you quick peck on the lips. you stood up from his lap, going to the doors and unlocking it. you opened them, seeing how he quickly covered his eyes with his hand.

“what are you doing? i’m not supposed to see you in the dress before our wedding.” he chuckled. you swallowed quietly.

“we need to talk.” you said, looking at Harry for brief second.

“sure sweetie, but change first, it means bad luck if i see you and i don’t need bad luck in our marriage.” he smiled, still covering his eyes with his hand.

“Denis, i’m not gonna marry you tomorrow.” you sigh, looking at his reaction. he uncovered his eyes, looking at you concerned.

“w-what? i don’t understand… what are you talking about?” he chuckled nervously.

“i can’t be with you.” you swallowed quietly.

“what are you saying? i thought you love me, we’re engaged for months!” his eyes narrowed, he finally noticed Harry sitting on the bed, but he didn’t said anything just yet. his eyes went back to yours.

“i’m really sorry Denis, i didn’t planned that…” you took off your engagement ring, handing it to him. he grabbed it, looking down at it in his hand.

“are you seriously doing this? you’re telling me that you’re breaking our engagement the night before our wedding? is this some kind of prank or something?” he asked, looking at you like you just escaped mental hospital. you only shook your head. “how long have you been feeling like this? you said you love me, you agreed to spend the rest of your life with me! how can you be so heartless telling me this when we’re supposed to get married tomorrow?!” he snapped.

“i’m really sorry.” you almost whispered.

“so that’s it? we’re officially over? what am i supposed to tell our friends and family? it’ll break your mothers heart, you know that?” he was mad. his hand clenched on the engagement ring.

“i don’t care what my mother will say about that, i’ll handle it.” you saw him looking into Harry’s direction.

“is this because of him?” he looked back at you.

“it doesn’t matter.” he scoffed at your words, lingering his gaze at him.

“it doesn’t matter? you’re dumping me for your best friend and you’re telling me it doesn’t matter? we were together for over two years! all my friends knew i was going to marry you, my parents were so happy that we’re finally taking this step! you can’t just throw it away like that!” he yelled, causing your flinch.

“i love him.” you whispered, looking up at his face. his eyes went back to your face.

“for how long have you been sneaking around with him behind my back?” he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. he was supposed to marry you tomorrow, but there you were, confessing that you love someone else.

“i never cheated on you, it’s not like that. i wouldn’t take it that far if i knew earlier that he love me too.” you pinched your hand nervously few times. his gaze softening.

“please baby, you have to be joking. this is a joke, right? please don’t tell me you’re actually in love with someone else…” he was desperate, looking at you pleadingly. you only shook your head saying quiet ‘sorry’. he sigh deeply. “you were always saying that you love me. that you want that, that you want us. now, you’re telling me that you just… fallen out of love with me?… just like that?” his eyes were just simply sad. the way he was saying all of that was too much.

“you deserve the truth, so i’ll tell you.” you started, looking for brief second at Harry. your eyes went back on Denis when you continued. “i’d never thought, that Harry could ever feel the same way about me. it sounds cruel, but he’s the love of my life. not you Denis. i’m sorry.”

“so what?” he clenched his jaw, anger building in him at Harry’s name. “you think you’ll just live happily ever after with him? you think he’ll treat you better than i would?”

“you really wanna talk about treating me better?” your eyebrows raised in disbelief. his face went pale.

“i- i’ve treated you great, no? i’ve given you everything… money, stability, love, home-“

“some bruises and cuts sometimes too, but you weren’t planning to say this out loud, hm?” when you said that, Harry’s brows furrowed. his hands clenched on his sides.

“i didn’t mean to hurt you, babe. i’m sorry, i’ll change, i promise.” his voice cracked softly when he was talking. “i’ll be better, i promise, just give me one more chance.” he grabbed your hand with his.

“i love Harry, you can’t change that.” you looked at him going on his knees. “i’m sorry it all happened like that.” he looked pathetic. his eyes were wide, his skin ashen. he looked like his entire life was burning with your words. maybe because in fact, it was like that. he knew it was over. he wanted to beg, he was ready to do everything, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. it was like realization hit him. he let out shaky sigh, going up from his knees, but still holding your hand in his.

„what do you want me to do now?” he asked, without any emotions in his voice.

„you have to let me go.” you answered quietly.

„you’re killing me baby…” he chuckled in disbelief. „you’ll… you’ll be happy with him? you’ll be treated better?” you nodded at his words. „you deserve that. you deserve to be treated better than i treated you.” his eyes lingering on your face and then your body. „you never looked more beautiful than in that dress.” he smiled weakly.

„i hope you’ll find someone for you.” you smiled softly.

“yeah…” he mumbled. “it was supposed to be you, you know? i always dreamed of marrying you, growing old with you… having family with you.” he swallowed thickly.

“i know Denis, i’m sorry.” you said quietly, looking at your hand in his. mention of family brought a new sort of hurt in his eyes.

“i always thought we’ll be great parents together. i just knew you’d look amazing with baby bump.” his smile weak and full of pain.

“stop saying things like this. you’re only hurting yourself more by saying that.” you pulled your hand away from his. he froze at sudden lack of contact. it was like he couldn’t accept that you’re not his anymore. that he won’t be able to touch you, hold you, kiss you.

“before i leave, can i ask you something?” you smiled softly and nodded. “if i hadn’t done anything wrong, if i had never laid my hands on you, would we… would we still be together now?

“i don’t know that.” you shook your head slightly. he accepted your words, looking at Harry now.

“i hate you, you know that?” he said firmly.

“yeah? you can hate me all you want. i never liked you a bit and now that i know you laid your hands on her, you better be grateful that you’re still alive.” Harry smiled rudely at him.

“you have no idea how much i just want to punch you right now. for taking everything i ever dreamed of away from me. for stealing the love of my life.” he looked like he was about to jump on him every second. you speak up to avoid the situation.

“it’ll be better if you just go now.” Denis looked at you, his face softening. he only sigh quietly and nodded.

“i’ll go to my parents for tonight.” he swallowed. “i hope you’ll be happy, you deserve it. goodbye, my love.” he almost whispered, going out from the bedroom. few seconds later you heard front door closing.

“you okay, baby?” Harry wrapped his hands around you, pulling you close to his chest. he kissed the top of your head.

“yes, i… i should feel bad about this, right?” you pressed your cheek to his chest. “it’s cruel that i feel happy.”

“there’s no need to feel bad. you’re allowed to feel happy now, maybe it is cruel, but… it’s how life works. you can’t force yourself to be with someone who you don’t want to be. everything’s fine.” he caressed your hair, holding you close. he smiled. “he was right about something tho, you really look beautiful in that dress.” you looked up at him with a smile. he leaned down, kissing your lips softly. “i can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” he smirked right after his words. “but for now, i can’t wait to spend this night with you.”

“yeah? then take this dress off me.” you licked your lips slightly, smiling at him this whole time. his hands immediately went to your back, where the zipper was. he slowly started pulling it down. wedding dress pooled around your ankles, exposing your body. he looked at while laced set, his eyes darkened.

“you’re so impossibly beautiful.” he touched lace of your bra over your breast. his touch gentle. his hands continued to moving around your body, when in meantime you started to unbutton his shirt. you were looking up at him this whole time. you pushed shirt off his shoulders, touching his chest right after. he let out shaky exhale, squeezing skin on your waist. your hands went down to get rid of his pants. he pressed his lips to yours right after you took them off, backing you both towards the bed. he sat on it, making you stand between his legs. he left lingering kiss on your stomach, looking up at you in this position. his hands went to the clasp of your bra, undoing it. he let out quiet groan when he looked at you only in panties. “god, how can someone look this perfect.” he gasped, leaving kisses all over your chest, sucking in few places. his hand went to cup one of your breasts, teasing your nipple with his thumb. he took care of the other one with his lips, licking and sucking gently. you moaned quietly, putting your hand into the back of his hair. his free hand went to touch your core over your panties that were already drenched. you never felt like this in your entire life- it was almost like he was worshipping you. “can we take this off?” he grabbed edges of your panties.

“yes.” you smiled at him. he quickly took them off, his dick twitching in anticipation in his boxers. he stood up from bed, picking you up and laying down on bed. before he hovered above you he took off his boxers, freeing himself from tight material. his kisses started on your neck, going down to your collarbones, chest, stomach, when finally his lips hovered over your core. he looked at you, silently asking if it’s okay. when you smiled at him he opened your legs more to have better access. he started kissing your folds, causing your gasp. when his lips met your clit you arched your back slightly, moaning. he smiled against your pussy, licking and sucking slowly on your sensitive place. his hand went under his chin, pushing his two fingers into your wet slit. you clenched at his digits automatically at the contact. you putted your hand into his hair for some more contact, hearing him moaning into you at that. action sent vibrations, adding to the sensation. his fingers curled into perfect angle, making you go insane from this and his mouth. you’d never thought that it all could feel that good. “oh my god.” you only managed to gasp. he was moving slowly, clearly wanting to prepare you for his cock. he eventually pulled out after few minutes, licking his fingers clean. he went back with his lips to yours, kissing you. you could taste yourself on his tongue, so you hummed quietly. when you break the kiss you smiled at him. “top drawer.” you said and he looked from you to the bedside table. he opened the drawer, taking a condom from it. he quickly opened it and rolled it on his length. he positioned himself between your legs, pressing his tip against your entrance.

“i love you.” he smiled, pressing soft kiss on your mouth.

“i love you too.” you smiled back, feeling him slowly entering you. his eyes searching for any discomfort, but when he found none he started slowly moving in and out.

“god, you feel so good, so perfect.” he gasped, leaning to your neck and kissing it. your hands went on his back and your legs around his hips. he wrapped his arms around you to feel you as close as possible. his breath was hot against your skin. your gasps and moans were driving him crazy. he picked up the pace when your nails started digging into his skin slightly. “i want to make you feel so good.”

“you’re already doing it.” you caressed his back with one hand. when he adjusted slightly you found yourself almost crying out of pleasure, when he found spot Denis was never able to reach. you let out desperate whine and he started moving even faster. he couldn’t hold back anymore. the way you were moving under him, the way you sounded. your back arched towards him, making you both even more skin to skin. his arms tightened around you and you could already feel your orgasm approaching. “oh my fucking god.” you panted, tilting your head back.

“look at me.” he gasped, looking at your face. “i want to see your eyes.” you quickly obeyed, looking at him. he grinned, moving even faster. his movements desperate already, chasing his own climax. “i don’t know how long i can hold that, you feel too good.”

“i’m close, so close, please.” your one hand went from his back to cup his cheek. he licked his lips, moving faster. you kissed him, moaning loudly into his mouth when you finally fell over the edge. your whole body arched and your core clenching around him, milking his length. he moaned himself at the feeling of you squeezing your cunt around him. he fucked you through your orgasm.

“fuck.” he panted, feeling himself emptying into the condom. his dick pulsating inside you, his hips twitching from intense pleasure. after you both get down from high he peppered your face with kisses, making you chuckle softly. last peck lingered on your lips and when he pulled out he looked into your eyes. “you’re truly the love of my life, baby.”

[frogstappen]

𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐯𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐧𝐥

best friend!max verstappen x reader / 3k

you watch max's home race from the red bull garage.

⚠️: description of major crash, some mentions of injury. sickly sweet friendship with a hint of something more. jealous!max, soft!max, cheeky!max.

“Headset?”

“Yep.”

“I got some snacks for you. Where are the –?”

The bag rustles as you lift it. “Pretzels. Got them.”

“And you know where the bathroom is? Out that door, down the corridor –”

“Max,” you push his arm down, “You know who we sound like right now?”

His eyebrows lift. “Who?”

You giggle. “You and GP. Radio, check. Headset, check. Bathroom, check.”

Max sighs, propping a hand on his hip. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just – listen to me, please, okay?”

“I’m going to be fine,” you assure him. “I’ve watched you from the garage a thousand times before.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t been down here in a while. I’m just making sure.”

The track is already deafening. The roar of tens of thousands of bloodthirsty Formula One fans isn’t quite as earthshaking as that of twenty racecars – but Jesus, there’s not much in it.

The attendance in Zandvoort this weekend has reached well over three hundred thousand. Earlier, you stood out front to watch the drivers’ parade with some of the team.

Max lifted his head as the bus turned the last corner and trundled down the main straight. The crowd thundered all around. He caught your eye and, with a smirk, lifted a waggling hand – and you felt your bones vibrating with the cheering.

An orange sea parted by a strip of black asphalt; they twirl flags between thick clouds of tangerine smoke. They paint their faces and wave their banners, topple their drinks with the thrill that just a half-second glimpse at their Dutch Lion ignites.

Formula One fans go hard. Max Verstappen fans go harder.

An assistant taps Max’s shoulder. She flicks up the mic on her headset as he turns. “Three minutes to anthem.”

He nods, and she totters off.

“Promise me,” he takes hold of your elbows, “that you’ll stay right here. I’ll find you after, okay? One of the guys will bring you to the podium.”

“Confident,” you snort, though his expression tightens.

Your phone buzzes on the desk. You flip it over and the screen lights a name adorned with a heart emoji. Beneath, a picture of the classic overhead of the grid, stretched across a flatscreen TV.

Bet your view is better than mine! Miss you. X

Max grumbles, grabbing his balaclava. “I should go.”

“Hey, wait.” You tug on the sleeve of his suit, dangling from his waist.

He sways back into your side, the weight of him familiar and gentle. “Mhm?”

“Have a good one, okay? Be safe.”

“Safe?” He smirks, toying with the cord of your headset. “That’s no fun.”

“I’m serious, Max. Don’t be a dick.”

Okay, he mouths, patting your head. “Speaking of dicks,” he taps your phone, “Better reply.”

His head tilts back in laughter when you shove him off, and he swaggers out of the garage. An assistant hoists a parasol in the air and scurries down the pit lane at his side.

He’s so calm, you think, that he may as well be out for a Sunday drive. It comes naturally enough to him.

He’s on pole today. The car has been good, Max’s form even better. The sky is clear (save for the fans’ fluorescent flares), and there’s no chance of rain – though, sometimes, you find yourself praying for it.

He’s Dutch, okay? The rain is always on his side.

It’s been a decent weekend, for once. No hiccups, no setbacks. He’s soared his way around the track, producing lap after perfect lap. The way he always does, when he knows you’re somewhere nearby.

His lucky charm, since his first go around a karting track. So Max says, anyway.

He’ll say it with humor; that wit of his that you’ve learned like a second language. Still – sometimes, after his hardest races, his toughest battles, he wraps his arms around you tight enough to convince you that he might just be telling the truth.

Just for a moment.

You’ve been best friends for as long as you can remember. Never one without the other; always whispering into each other’s ears or otherwise communicating through flashes of eye contact, kicks under the table.

Wherever he goes, you go. You bicker like a married couple, and trust each other much the same. From the school playground to the Circuit de Monaco – and everywhere in between.

The orchestra swings to life, sending the sound of Wilhelmus skyward. Onscreen in the garage, the camera focuses in on Max: calm, composed, staring off down to the first corner like it’s his next meal.

Nothing has ever happened between you. Not really. No secret rendezvous nor dear diary crushes. Once, and only once, a chaste kiss during a high school game of spin the bottle.

It was about as awkward as it should’ve been. This quick, electric shock of a kiss. Over all too soon and not soon enough. He tasted like the lager he’d been drinking. He steadied himself with a hand on your thigh.

You sat back on your heels, wiped your lips with the sleeve of your sweater, and aped Max’s look of disgust. You snickered with your girlfriends as the circle moved on – but anytime you snuck a glance at him, he was already looking straight back.

He never brought it up again, though – and so neither did you. As far as either of you were concerned, it never happened. You’re just friends.

Best, best friends.

This new guy you’ve been seeing – you met him in a bar in London. He said he liked your dress, said he liked your smile, then offered to buy you a drink. It’s been no more than six weeks, but Max had already quietly decided his thoughts over summer break.

He’s a nice guy, he said, deliberately bumping his rubber ring into yours.

You pushed away from him, floating across the pool. Nice? That’s all you got?

What do you want me to say? I’m not the one dating him.

I just don’t believe that nice is all you have to say. You’re not that good at pretending. I know you too well, Verstappen.

Okay, fine. Too much styling of the hair.

Too much…What?

Yeah. And he wears weird shoes.

Well, he likes F1. Said he’s a fan of yours.

Ha, Max clicked his fingers, That’s the biggest red flag of them all.

Your phone buzzes again. You turn it facedown without looking, and pull your headset on.

The circuit shudders as the anthem comes to an end. The drivers split up, pulling off ice vests and zipping up their suits. The mechanics prop chairs in front of the screen, thumping their helmets over their heads.

Almost ten years in, the anxiety still hangs heavy in your stomach. The rumble of the engines, the babble from the loudspeakers. The rapid-fire orders shot over your head in the garage.

It comes naturally to Max, sure – that doesn’t mean it’s easy for you.

You watch him as he lowers into his car. Eyes narrow and focused, blurring everything but that first bend from his vision. All good humor shaken off, replaced by a vicious hunger to hit the end of the straight first, to be a speck on the horizon before the first lap is through.

Your thumb picks at the 33 sticker on the side of your headset. You burst open the bag of pretzels.

Max checks the radio and GP replies: “Loud and clear.”

“Beautiful day,” the driver says, weaving through the formation lap. “Simply lovely.”

You smile, suckling on the salty snack. As nervous as you may feel, at least he’s having fun.

He brings the car to a soft stop on his line and waits as the others follow suit. The lights flick on one by one, a painful pause between each. One sharp breath, held at the bottom of your throat, – and the red dissolves.

The Red Bull fires down the track.

Your lungs fill with a gulp of fuel-fumed air. Veins flood with warmth – the ice-cold grip around each nerve thawed as soon as Max begins to lead the flock.

He fights off contenders for first all the way to turn four – snuffing the flame of a Ferrari here, squeezing the papaya of a McLaren there. He catapults ahead just past Hunserug, and the garage springs to cheerful life.

In your headset, the pit wall is serious, fixed on the race. They murmur over wavelengths, static fizzling between words. Voices flat and emotionless; statistics on top of statistics, strategies on top of strategies.

You crush more pretzels between your molars, watching, unblinking. You twist the cord around your index finger, draining the tip of blood, then loosen again as Max puts more than a second between his car and the next.

He’s doing good. He always does good, as far as you’re concerned.

He’s doing what he always says he was made to do. He was raised this way, weathered into shape by each storm he powered his way through. Not born, not destined – Max doesn’t believe in any of that shit.

God doesn’t drive F1 cars, he’ll say. I do.

A couple tense laps pass. The Red Bull is still up front, though he’s tussling with the Ferrari now hot on his tail. Each chance his pursuer takes, each split-second jab at his lead, Max has already squashed before it materializes.

He rips around turn fourteen, following the track through its widest bend down to fifteen, and hits the main straight to thunderous applause. The cars scream past the pits, a roar sliced in two as they barrel straight for Tarzan.

The gap is barely two tenths. The mechanics clutch their helmets. Max taunts the corner on the outside of the track, eyeing his target.

“Defend,” one of the mechanics growls. “Hold him, Max.”

The Ferrari tucks behind, its front wing edging closer and closer.

You blink.

The red car swings out, shuddering with the force of the maneuver. He steadies himself and floors it, each closing centimeter perilous.

Blink again.

They’re side by side. Almost wheel to wheel. There’s no way Max can’t see that scarlet smirk from the corner of his eye. The apex is right there, though, it’s right fucking there.

Another blink, and –

He’s gone.

He’s gone. He’s –

Hurtling off the track. At almost two hundred miles per hour. The gravel spits at him as he spins; smoke and dust billow from beneath. He slams straight into the barrier, and, finally, the moment ends.

Your chest shrinks; a weak wheeze passes your lips. “Oh, my God.”

The mechanics leap to their feet. They bark amongst themselves like a pack of angry dogs, though you can’t make out a word.

Your hearing is shot. Every sound bleeds into the next; one long, high-pitched scream. You move without thinking, without feeling; slip off the stool and tug your headset. It hits the desk with a distant clatter, though you’re already wandering away.

The sound of the crowd rattles against your skull. Numb, muted. An awful groaning sound as the cloud lifts, revealing the chewed-up car.

It’s bad. It’s the worst one in a long time. He must’ve hit that barrier at near-enough full speed. The dread fills your lungs like torrents of heavy, black water. Sickly salt, suffocating sea. Oh, God.

You scan the garage for any of his mechanics. Matt. Ole. Chris. Fucking – any of them. Who did he say would bring you to him when this was over? He said he’d meet you at the podium. He said he’d find you –

A rough hand grabs your elbow.

Max’s face flickers across your vision. Blue steel gaze, freckle above his lip. The dust pulls him away from your grasp. He hits the barrier again and again and again.

“Max –”

The voice is calm – too fucking calm, you think, when it tells you, “He’s talking. They’ve got him talking.”

“Talking,” you echo, begging it to solidify in your brain. “Can you put me on to him?”

The engineer pulls you over to the exit. He plucks at his mic, murmurs some response down the line to the team. He takes your wrist and leads you out, muttering, “C’mon.”

“Hey,” you tug on his arm, “Please let me speak to him.”

“You will,” he replies, snaking through the tight corridor. “Once he’s out, they’ll check him over. He’ll be taken in for evaluation, hitting the wall at that speed. Force must be bloody nuts.”

The thought sends another bitter stream of panic through your blood. “Can he move? Is he –? Can he get out of the car?”

He gives one quick nod. “Medics are there. They’re helping him out.”

Sunlight floods overhead, dazzling as you follow him out front and towards a sleek car. An attendant opens the door for you, and you slide into the backseat.

The engineer gives your shoulder a friendly shake. “He’ll be fine,” he says. “He’s done worse.”

The door falls closed and the car moves off, purring through the paddock towards the medical center.

You slump into your seat and press your fingers into your eyes; a headache already blooming between your temples.

He’s moving. He’s moving and he’s responding. They’re helping him up out of the car. He’s probably already being checked over.

He’s probably already asking for you.

“Jesus Christ,” you groan, fingers dragging down your cheeks.

The center is a polite little hut inside the circuit. By the time you pull up, the race has already resumed. The remaining cars whizz by as you jog over, slipping inside behind a couple guys from Max’s team.

He’s had his fair share of scraps on the track. You don’t make it to the top without a sincere sense of dare, and an even sincerer lack of fear. Some call it idiocy. You’re often one of them.

Sitting on the other side of the clinic door, though – knee jerking, nails picking at the skin on your fingers – you’d be thrilled to never see these four walls ever again. Idiot or not, you care about him.

More than anyone else in your life? Jesus. Probably.

The door clicks open, and your blood jumps.

A pale woman in a pale coat steps out. She peers over her glasses, eyes you from the sneakers on your feet to the worry on your face – and says your name.

You push yourself up, squeezing past her into the room.

Max is perched on the edge of the bed, still in his fireproofs. Hair disheveled, face flushed and exhausted. Translucent with shock or concussion or worse, he lifts his head and flashes a lopsided smile.

It’s weak, barely there – but it’s him.

You care about him more than anyone else in your life. Definitely.

He opens his arms, fingers beckoning you in. “C’mere.”

“Oh, my God,” you sweep over, already in tears by the time you meet his body, “Oh, my God – you fucking idiot.”

His shoulders shudder with a bottled laugh. He wraps his arms around your waist, turning his head against your chest. “How was I supposed to know he was going to turn into me, huh? I had the line, I was –”

“Max,” you pull back, staring into his bleary eyes, “I don’t care. Just – don’t do that ever again.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he whispers, corners of his mouth twitching.

You sigh, collapsing onto the bed at his side. You lean against him and he winces a little, before pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

“You really scared me,” you admit, turning in to his chest.

Max slings an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight. “I’m fine, no? I mean, everything’s blurry and I can’t really hear much, but – it could have been worse.”

He props the pillows against the wall and pushes himself back gingerly, reaching past you for a paper cup of water at his bedside.

You move slowly, carefully, waiting for him to get comfortable before settling back, too – leaving a safe gap between his battered body and yours. Your cheek rests on the curve of his shoulder; fingers trace the logos on his sleeves.

Max breathes in the scent of your hair. He turns his hand and watches as your fingers trail down his wrist, circling his palm. He sucks in a deep breath, sighing to the ceiling.

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” you whisper, and he hums.

“Nerves,” he mutters.

“From the race?” You lift your head. “You don’t get nervous.”

He takes another breath and turns to you. He’s blushing, and doing a shitty job at hiding it. “No,” he says. “Not from the race.”

You gulp. “Are you sore?”

“Yeah. My back, my ribs.”

“Do you want me to get up?”

“No. Stay.”

He wears the same expression he did all those years ago, sat too many people apart from one another in that drunken circle. The same expression you only allowed yourself fleeting glances at: bashful, a little awkward – all the more endearing for it.

Maybe he actually doesn’t remember that night. Maybe he was just too tipsy – alcohol gone straight to his teenage head. And maybe he won’t even remember this, what with the concussion and all.

It’d make things a hell of a lot easier, that’s for sure. You could go back to your old ways: arguing over the best flavor of chips, screaming while playing video games. No second-guessing, no jumping to conclusions. Hell, maybe you hope he doesn’t remember any of it at all.

Somewhere, though, deep down – you know that’s not true.

“How’s, uh…whatshisface?” Max asks, nudging you with his elbow. He takes a feeble sip of his water and offers you the cup.

“Oh,” you shrug, “No idea. I left my phone in the garage.”

He scoffs, staring at your lips as you take a drink. He takes the cup from your hands once you’re done. “I don’t mean to give him shit, you know. If you like him, I like him.”

“Well, there’s liking someone,” you pout, “and then there’s willingly watching them crash full-speed in a racecar.”

Max smiles, lifting his cup.

“Whoever that is, sounds pretty cool to me.”

[shadowkoo]

I just needed to come here and vent for a moment. As a writer, I put a lot of time and thought into curating my ideas and outlining fics before I even begin writing. So, you can imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning to a tumblr notification that someone had tagged me in a post titled “[My Fic Title] Part 2.”

Naturally, I was a bit shocked. After scrolling through it, I realized that this user had written a second part to one of my fanfics, and they tagged me to credit me for the original story.

While I won’t name the specific fic or the user (they did remove it per my request), I feel the need to address this publicly with a quick PSA.

My characters, storylines, cliffhangers, and everything in between are my intellectual property. Yes, the characters are inspired by real idols, and yes, some of my plots exist within established TV/film/book universes. But the ideas, twists, and execution are mine, and I’m the one who will decide how they unfold. (For clarity, the fic in question isn’t set in another media universe, but I wanted include this line since it is relevant for a couple of my other works).

I appreciate that this person enjoyed my fic enough to be inspired to write something themselves, but to be completely honest, I don’t think what they did was okay. I have some serious issues with this, and I want to share them to hopefully prevent this from happening to me—or anyone else—again.

First off, I find it incredibly rude that they didn’t reach out to ask my permission beforehand. Had they done so, I would’ve immediately told them not to go forward with it. Instead, I found out through a tag after the fic had already been posted, which felt like a slap in the face. To make matters worse, because of time zone differences, the post was live for hours while I was asleep, gaining traction.

I know that in the fanfic community, it’s somewhat common to write alternate endings or continuations for larger works from big-name authors or shows, but that’s not what’s happening here. I’m a hobby kpop fanfic writer. Writing a fanfic of my fanfic just feels out of line.

To be blunt, it felt like they were piggybacking off the success of my story, trying to steal some of the excitement I’d built for an upcoming second part. It also seemed like an attempt to siphon engagement, followers, and interactions from my readers—people who were already invested in the original work.

What bothers me even more is that I’ve publicly mentioned I’m already working on a second part. It left me with a bad taste, like this person was trying to rush out their version before I could post mine. That kind of move creates confusion for readers and, from where I stand, feels calculated and disrespectful.

So let me make this crystal clear: No one has my consent to rewrite my work, create additional parts to my fics whether they’re complete, on hiatus, or in-progress, whether or not i have mentioned that i'm writing another part, or to publish alternate endings, etc.

Thank you for understanding. - Raven

[ducktoonsfanart]

I have 6 sides - Cartoon and Comic Edition - Meme - Crossover - Donald Duck and The Three Caballeros, Looney Tunes, Tiny Toons, Animaniacs, Woody Woodpecker, Sponge Bob Squarepants, Tom and Jerry and Garfield - My version

I haven't drawn for a long time again, and now I'm drawing it, this time with other cartoon characters and comic book characters that I also loved to watch and read when I was little, and now I love to enjoy it. This time I did a different meme, and what I drew is similar to six of my favorite characters as my meme, otherwise this is more current on TikTok so you can see more here: https://www.tiktok.com/discover/i-have-six-sides-template

As my template from where I got it, of course. Not only do I draw Disney ducks, I drew other characters that I love that I enjoyed as a little boy, and I still enjoy now, so I decided to draw my other favorite characters from other franchises. I hope you recognize them.

The first is certainly the Three Caballeros (Donald Duck, Jose Carioca and Panchito Pistoles) together with Donald's nephews (Huey, Dewey and Louie Duck) and Aracuan Bird as my favorite characters from the Duckverse (the universe of Donald Duck, as the best part of Disney that I love the most), otherwise I drew as a redraw from The Legend of The Three Caballeros poster. The second is the Acme universe, which is the Looney Tunes, Tiny Toons and Animaniacs cartoons in one place, since I feel they share the same universe even though they deviate from the original Looney Tunes. I draw my favorite characters like Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Buster Bunny and Plucky Duck (Bugs and Daffy's students) and the brothers Yakko and Wakko Warner. The third is Woody Woodpecker with his famous laugh, along with his nephew Knothead and niece Splinter plus his rival and neighbor Wally Walrus and friend Andy Panda. All these characters were invented by Walter Lantz and belong to Universal.

The fourth one is definitely SpongeBob SquarePants along with Patrick Starfish and Squidward Tentacles and drawn as a redraw from one of my favorite episodes "Idiot Box" where SpongeBob shows a rainbow as IMAGINATION! All these characters were invented by Stephen Hillenburg and this year SpongeBob had its 25th anniversary. The fifth cartoon is definitely Tom and Jerry, definitely the best golden era cartoon of all time, along with Nibbles (Jerry's nephew) with his dog Spike the Bulldog and his son Tyke. All these characters were invented by William Hanna and Joseph Barbera. And finally the sixth drawing showing Garfield the cat eating lasagna, with Odie the dumb dog and Jon Arbuckle, his owner and best friend. All these characters were invented by Jim Davis and last year had its 45th anniversary (on Garfield). Yes, drawn on Monday, the day of the week that Garfield hates.

I hope you like these cartoons and feel free to like and reblog this and feel free to tell which are your favorite cartoons that you enjoyed. Just don't copy these same ideas of mine and these characters without mentioning me. Thank you!

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

The Other Side of Paradise (Glass Animals)

Bye bye baby blue/I wish you could see the wicked truth/Caught up in a rush, it's killing you/Screaming at the sun, you blow into/Curled up in a grip when we were us/Fingers in a fist like you might run/I settle for a ghost I never knew/Superparadise I held on to

"It's just like. The angstiest of songs. If you listen to it you get it."

The Mind Electric (Miracle Musical)

See how the serfs work the ground (See how they fall)/And they give it all they've got/And they give it all they've got/And you give it all you've got 'til your down/See how the brain plays around/And you fall inside a hole you couldn't see/And you fall inside a hole inside a-/Someone help me

Understand what’s going on inside my mind/Doctor, I can’t tell if I’m not me

Nuns commence incanting as the lightning strikes mine temples thus/Electrifying mine chambers wholly, scorching out thine sovereignty so/Spiralling down thy majesty, I beg of thee have mercy on me/I was just a boy, you see! I plead of thee, have sympathy for me!

"The lyrics just hit hard with all of the imagery and shit, being used alongside the song glitching and a 3 minute long sequence (an un-glitched version of the song) that plays backwards in full before the song begins, conjure up a very interesting view/idea/image of losing your sanity. Plus, the song has a really interesting history in terms of its creation."

"first listen: "damn its weird that this has itself backwards haha" second listen: ⚡️⚡️🧠SEE HOW THE BRAIN PLAYS AROUND🌩😈AND YOU FALL INSIDE A HOLE YOU COULDNT SEE☁️⚡️AND YOU FALL INSIDE A HOLE INSIDE A🤴🗣SOMEONE HELP ME⛈️🪐UNDERSTAND WHATS GOING ON INSIDE MY MIND🗣⚡️DOCTOR I CANT TELL IF IM NOT ME!!!🌩🌩☄️ anyway, there are actually 2 versions of this song !! since the first half of the song is the second half backwards, but one of the halves has a series of artistic glitches and repeats and skips! the "distorted version", which is what youll find on spotify, has the glitchy half played forwards, and the "nondistorted version", which is what the official channel posted on youtube, is reversed so the unglitched half plays forwards! its a remaster of a previous song Joe Hawley worked on as a member of Tally Hall called "Inside the Mind of Simon", and it has TONS of little easter eggs and details scattered throughout. distorted speech from old movies, clips from old songs, theres this part where chanting voices sing "axon, dendrite" and "help me" over and over which (imo) you really only hear if you know to look for them, theres an intricate synth arpeggio throughout the entire climax of the song that im in love with— its the source of the synth tune in the next song on the album, Labyrinth (the funny "i am the mouse" song)! i have yet to find a blorbo i cant picture to it but considering that my main oc's theme is madness, its her perfect chance to star. in conclusion, your honor, I love the mind electric."

"it's a story of a man getting sentenced to an asylum for a murder he didn't commit, and there he is subjected to electroshock therapy. the synth alone fucked me up the first time I heard it. not to mention the awesome lyrics and various styles throughout the song. oh also the first 3ish minutes of the song are in reverse. so there's that."

"Somehow I feel like it's the story of my life. Also, the first half of the song is the second half of the song played in reverse."

The Mind Electric submitted by @lesleyn +@omegasmileyface +@that-bi-fan + others

[something-about-sunflowers]

OH.

You ever have a sudden realization for why you feel a certain way about something that actually completely flips those feelings on their head?

I've generally always been pretty sure about what I want out of any kind of gender affirming care I might hopefully get in some nebulous future where that's something I can afford: I want my voice deeper, I'd be delighted by bottom growth, I would like my tits significantly more masculine presenting if not gone completely. I've been ambivalent about the potential for body hair, though I have been much more eager for the possibility of it with more 'ideal transition goals' influence (Look. I want Con O'Neill's gender okay?) in mind.

That said the one thing I've been hesitant about is facial hair? Which is frustrating because it's the one thing that I kind of do have by default? If I don't do anything to it I have noticeable dark wispies on my upper lip and chin (I've kind of suspected for a while that I may have some sort of hormone disorder - I've got other things that lead me to think this too ofc this is just the most easily noticeable - but like. Who's got the money for diagnosing shit like that? Not me, that's for damn sure.) like. T-Boy's First 'Stache kinda deal. It's been my one (mental) sticking point on potentially starting T, to the point where I've argued with myself that I could just do like the trans girls do and get like, what's it called? Electrolysis? Hair removal? Just for that part. But then that adds cost to what I already can't afford and. Like.

I don't think. It. Actually bothers me? I think. I think I'm maybe projecting how I think my mother would react to it? Not even with full on transition in mind but like. How I am now. Like I don't really care how it looks if I don't shave. Hell, I might even like it sometimes? Like a micro-euphoria or something. But my mother is (partially) responsible for my eating disorder. It's completely within the realm of possibility that she would have Something To Say if I just stopped bothering. I don't even think she'd do it on purpose really? Just. Would need to point out the presence of hair on my face and the judgement would be implied. The 'I am pointing this out because it is unusual and I don't think you should look like this' would be implied. She wouldn't need to say it out loud.

And like. The worst of it is? I don't care. I don't care if I do something to myself that she doesn't like or approve of. And. It's hardly as if she's transphobic (Or. Not more-so than the average 'uninvolved in the queer community parent of queer kids' cishet person. Not maliciously so, yknow?) I've got friends she knows are trans - one who she knew through his actual transition process - she's been through the whole 'it's "he", mom' 'oops, he' situation before with relative grace.

But none of those people are her kid. She doesn't see them every day. She knows she didn't raise them and has, at no point in their lives had a say with what they do to themselves. I already came out to her once (Well. I was forced out by my partner at the time's parents, which was. Not fun.) and the thing about that time is? She really didn't have to. Do anything? About that? Except maybe adjust her mental image of who I might wind up marrying some time in the nebulous future. I'm not out to her about any of my Gender Stuff. Because I don't want to have to deal with the 'I just don't understand all of this' because I'm not binary trans (every other trans person she's met has been binary) or 'It would just be easier on everybody if we still called you [deadname] and used she/her' (which, I don't even really have an issue with she/her? I very much prefer they/them but I'm used to she/her and it doesn't bother me to hear it the way hearing my deadname still does).

She doesn't listen to me when I talk about things that actually matter to me. When I talk about shit that she's done that hurts me. Hell, when I tell her she doesn't listen to me she stops listening. I know it'll be a fight if I correct her on my name/pronouns. I know she'll 'forget'. I know when I get emotional about it, because I know I'll get emotional about it, that I'll start to raise my voice (gotta love the struggle with vocal volume regulation huh? I literally can't help it and I barely notice it until someone tells me) and that she'll say 'You're always yelling, I'm not going to listen to you if you yell' and that it's just code for 'I wasn't going to listen anyway because what you have to say isn't important enough for me to try to listen, and you're giving me a convenient excuse to opt out of the blame for that by speaking "too loudly"'.

Anyway. I'm not coming out again until I'm out of this fucking state and living on my own (or at least away from her and the rest of my family).

But I do think, now, I might actually be comfortable with my facial hair/the potential for more pronounced facial hair then too. It's not my problem, it's hers.

[nebulainatree]

Ok in honor of this post getting pretty widely viewed I'm posting my (self proclaimed) funny tumblr text meme edit here

[magentagalaxies]

one of the absolute funniest moments on scott's tour that i wasn't able to capture on camera (for obvious reasons) was at the meet and greet after the nashville show these two older gay guys mentioned they were reading scott's wikipedia page before the show to find out more to chat about at the meet and greet and like. idk if this is just because i am very familiar with scott's wikipedia page but you could tell that was the extent of their scott knowledge (which is valid not everyone is researching a documentary on the guy)

but then they asked about the poster for the lowest show, which they'd never heard of before their wikipedia reading, specifically this quote:

"The posters—featuring Thompson lying supine on the ground with a big wad of semen dripping down the side of his face—went up around the city on September 10, 2001"

and they were like "wow we'd love to see those posters hahaha" and i immediately jump in like "oh i have that photo on my phone give me like 2 seconds"

to be clear: these guys had not interacted with me or acknowledged my existence the entire conversation. they had their backs to me when they were talking to scott, i did not introduce myself as directing the documentary since i wasn't filming and they didn't ask who i am, etc. but my brain was like "oh someone wants to learn more about scott? my time to shine, let me pull up that folder in my camera roll". even scott was like jfc here they go again.

anyway i barely had to scroll back in my doc research folder so i immediately held out my phone to the guys and showed them this

it's a photo taken days after 9/11 of scott in front of the posters for his show which was supposed to open the following week

so i hold out my phone and explain this thinking like hey i'm being so helpful these guys wanted to see this aspect of scott lore and i gave it to them!! meanwhile these two old guys are like i can't even focus on the poster anymore i am standing next to scott thompson and also WHO THE FUCK IS THIS CHILD AND WHY DID THEY JUST HAVE THIS ON THEIR PHONE?

another one of the funniest tour moments was after meeting up with some gay guys in their 70s who were friends-of-a-friend-of-scott and immediately befriending both of them we were about to leave and i asked for their phone number and scott just rolled his eyes and was like i'll give you his phone number in the car as though he was saying "jfc jessamine this is ridiculous even for you". he never ended up giving me the old guy's number

[tj-crochets]

Hey y'all, weird question time again, this time for people without POTS or other tachycardia-causing health issues. I know my heart rate is higher than it should be a lot of the time, but I can't find comparison data for not-tachycardia peoples' heart rates at any point except resting and like target rate when exercising, so my questions are these: 1. What's your heart rate when you stand up? 2. Does your heart rate go up noticeably when you are sick? There's presumably a whole spectrum of non-tachycardia heart rates at points between resting and high intensity exercise, but I have not been able to find any comparison points in between those extremes at all

[chiropteracupola]

sometimes you start to wonder what the historical record for the guys you made up looks like in the fictional world where they existed. and then you make some fake documents about it.

[moth and compass is a collaboration with @natdrinkstea!!!]

[dreamcast-official]

genuine question am i just a bitch for being upset over something .

[whateverthought]

You know, everyone kept saying "Trans Barbie! There's a Trans Barbie!" and I was confused because I watched the movie. I started worrying that maybe I missed something, maybe there was some hint or easter egg that implied trans-ness and I, a Cisgendered person, missed it because it wasn't for me.

But apparently it wasn't! It was that a trans actress was IN the movie. Something you couldn't have known if you didn't know the actress beforehand (I didn't).

So all this, 'They have a TRANS Agenda! Evil Woke Feminists!' is just a trans person existing.

(I thought it was gonna be something like, "This Barbie used to be a Ken!")

[sysig]

How long does it take to bind books like that?

It's very quick! Niennanir gives a brief rundown of about how long you should wait between construction and completion, but the overall process is very speedy! Quote:

"The whole process, not counting drying time, took less than an hour."

Which is more or less true - depending on how long you spend setting up your pages in your word processor (it took me a few tries to get the margins set to where I wanted them, but once they're set, you're good for any future projects!), you really are going to be spending most of your time waiting for the glue to dry so you can go to the next step lol

Everything else is quite interactive, but in a gentle way which I really like :D I find proofreading and folding the pages calming, and scoring and folding the covers feels very cool >:3c

The only real advice I have to give is that yes, while you should wait for your pages to dry a little before putting on the second glue layer (and also if you wanna be fancy I'd suggest capping the ends as well! Not just the spine itself), you don't want to wait so long that it's gone hard - bubbles can form in between the pages which would normally be pressed by your weights, but if they're left to dry out in the open, your spine will be bubbly and wiggly! This can be hidden by the cover's spine, but it's still better for the overall construction for it to be flat and clean :)

[kyouka-supremacy]

+

[as-rare-as-trees]

Can't believe I keep getting good grades in piercing aftercare and healing, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve

[bwabys-scenarios]

CAN YOU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO PERV ILLUMI i do not think there is enough perv illumi content on this app

He’s a perv

Perv!Illumi x Fem!Reader

A/N: sorry this is short and may resemble my other perv writings… but I hope y’all like it! Join my server

warnings: pervy Illumi, yandere behavior, masturbation, panty stealing, he’s kind of yucky, breeding, pregnancy

NSFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @pannacottababy @aliceattheart @atransmuter

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️

Illumi had never experienced sexual attraction before. Had he gotten some morning wood once or twice? Yes, but he rarely felt the urge to jack off.

That was… until he met you.

He wasn’t quite sure what made you so appealing. You looked ordinary, at least… you should have. Illumi had been surrounded by the worlds most beautiful women since he was but a boy… yet here he was, getting hard over a girl he had barely met.

Maybe it was your soft curves, or the ways your hips swayed when you walked… it could have even been your sweet voice, and those pretty, glossy lips that made him want to pull you in and taste the shiny lipgloss you were wearing…

Whatever it was, ever since he first laid eyes on you, Illumi’s body had been acting strangely. Even a whiff of your perfume could have his cock twitching, standing at attention and ready for you… it was quite embarrassing, or it would have been if Illumi had any shame.

No, the only reason Illumi his his overwhelming desire for you was because he wanted these feelings to go away as quickly as possible. He couldn’t fall for some nobody Hunter with nen weaker than all the other applicants that had passed with you. No, Illumi was supposed to marry the best of the best, a woman whose womb could bear a strong heir.

But… that didn’t stop him from acting on some of his urges…

Unfortunately, Illumi couldn’t seem to let you out of his sight. It was annoying, following you around as you did your little daily chores in town. He could hardly get any work done when you looked so cute. You didn’t even realize your panties were showing when you bent over to pick up a coin…

When he couldn’t be constantly watching over you, Illumi would steal little trinkets from your home to… keep him satiated. Used panties, your lipgloss, and clothing items that smelled like your perfume.

He’d wrap your panties around his cock as he jerked off, your cardigan pressed against his face. If he really focused, he could imagine your pussy tightening around him, your plump thighs pressing against him as he bounced you on his cock…

He’d cum buckets into your panties, then break into your apartment and drop them off on your floor, like a cat leaving a dead mouse as a gift.

After a while, his urges grew and grew, until your panties just weren’t enough for him anymore.

Wooing you wasn’t too hard, and getting into your pants was easier than he would have though. The fact you were a virgin was very surprising… but welcomed. After all, he was a virgin as well.

The second his cock sunk into you, he immediately knew that he could never let you go. To hell with a strong heir, he wanted you, and only you. You were the only one that could make him feel this way… soft, vulnerable, and so goddamn horny.

Poor, poor you, having Illumi fuck into you for hours on end, unable to pull out of your pretty, warm cunt. He fucked so much cum into you that you felt so swollen and full…

Even after he was done, he didn’t pull out. Instead, he held you close, kissing the top of your head. “You’re all mine, darling. I’ll have wedding preparations ready within a week.”

You were much too exhausted to argue… and you weren’t sure you could say no to Illumi Zoldyck… so you just slept, accepting your fate. You’d be taken care of, and would never have to worry about anything ever again.

Shortly, Illumi would have his now pregnant wife in his home, where she would be safe, and where he could ravish her whenever he felt like it.