m͟a͟e͟ ₊⊹

this is the last post im gonna make about asks (ill delete everything in a few days) because in truth im tired too , i already have a lot of responsibilites outside of my online life

i didn't block this anon , because i really want them to see this . i really wanna see if you really are brave enough to own up to this sort of hateful behavior publicly, and to see if you can call me a greedy bitch and attention whore to my face

i know this sound so corny, but im so , so tired of anons sending things they wouldn't otherwise because they know it wouldn't be tied to them. if i really posted and responded to every anon i'd got you'd really think i was an attention whore

and im so tired that i can't focus on the nice things others have said (side note but thank u guys...), because someone decided they wanted to be hateful today

for context: we've only officially been dating for a month though we've apparently been acting like a couple long before. (his family thought we had already been dating until he took Brooke to the Grammy's so-)

when i had to have emergency surgery last year (unscripted btw, & by last year i mean 1983) he halted everything he was doing and immediately came to the hospital so he could be with me when i woke up/my first few days of recovery.

when i visited him on the set of Thriller he'd make funny faces at me between takes to see me smile.

he never fails to greet me when i'm getting out of a car, opening the door for me & holding out his hand for me to take as if I'm a princess. (i made a joke saying something similar and he proceeded to tell me that i am his princess)

i gave him a bouquet of flowers on our second date and the next time i went over to his house they were cutely displayed in a vase on a shelf in his room. (his mother later told me that he had been trying his best to care for & protect them so they'd 'last forever')

he has never gotten annoyed by my touchiness, if anything he supports it & even matches it. (hand holding & hugs >>>, + cheek kisses omg. there's a picture of him with a lipstick mark on his cheek, left by me, that made rounds in the press 🧍‍♀️)

he's always calling me by a pet name or nickname he's made up for me, very rarely does he call me by my legal first name.

i was the first in the Utopia household to get her own phone & phone number simply because of how often me & Mike call each other.

we have matching saddle shoes.

he's my biggest cheerleader and truly believes i can do anything i set my mind on. (like his belief in me has changed my own belief/trust in myself for the better)

we are planning on going on a trip together sometime next year when we both get done with touring. (it will just be the two of us. not sure exactly when or where yet, Disneyworld has been mentioned, but I'm so excited!!)

we technically first met back in 1978 at Studio 54 but it was super super brief. (i was dancing on a table, he helped me down) we truly met & became best friends in July 1982 after latoya invited us over to swim in their pool. (her & megan are good friends)

idk how to explain this or how to better word this but when he talks about his future he considers me apart of it and i'm talking big long-term goals he has. (i feel like it sounds a bit silly to say for some reason) the girls told me that it's b/c he's already planning on marrying me but idk it feels too soon to assume things like that 🧍‍♀️

in the middle of the table, there was a chair with elaborate carvings embedded into the dark wood, sat a lady fair to look upon, a kind smile adored her face in an otherwise dark situation. young she was and yet not so, may it be due to the knowing, all knowing, glance in her grey eyes. her hair had been of the color of oak which framed her face, it peaked out of the white hood. her grace, her elegance, led many to believe she was born into aristocracy — they had not been wrong. constance had been born into house dimitrescu , long , long ago , and her age , her true , age had not matched her appearance. an heiress she had been, a lady with all the wealth in the world — reduced to a nun , staring down a demon. whatever had lead her down this path, you may wonder?

in the middle of the table, there was a chair with elaborate carvings embedded into the dark wood, sat a lady fair to look upon, a kind smile adored her face in an otherwise dark situation. young she was and yet not so, may it be due to the knowing, all knowing, glance in her grey eyes. her hair had been of the color of oak which framed her face, it peaked out of the white hood. her grace, her elegance, led many to believe she was born into aristocracy — they had not been wrong. constance had been born into house dimitrescu , long , long ago , and her age , her true , age had not matched her appearance. an heiress she had been, a lady with all the wealth in the world — reduced to a nun , staring down a demon. whatever had lead her down this path, you may wonder?

in the middle of the table, there was a chair with elaborate carvings embedded into the dark wood, sat a lady fair to look upon, a kind smile adored her face in an otherwise dark situation. young she was and yet not so, may it be due to the knowing, all knowing, glance in her grey eyes. her hair had been of the color of oak which framed her face, it peaked out of the white hood. her grace, her elegance, led many to believe she was born into aristocracy — they had not been wrong. constance had been born into house dimitrescu , long , long ago , and her age , her true , age had not matched her appearance. an heiress she had been, a lady with all the wealth in the world — reduced to a nun , staring down a demon. whatever had lead her down this path, you may wonder?

in the middle of the table, there was a chair with elaborate carvings embedded into the dark wood, sat a lady fair to look upon, a kind smile adored her face in an otherwise dark situation. young she was and yet not so, may it be due to the knowing, all knowing, glance in her grey eyes. her hair had been of the color of oak which framed her face, it peaked out of the white hood. her grace, her elegance, led many to believe she was born into aristocracy — they had not been wrong. constance had been born into house dimitrescu , long , long ago , and her age , her true , age had not matched her appearance. an heiress she had been, a lady with all the wealth in the world — reduced to a nun , staring down a demon. whatever had lead her down this path, you may wonder?

the 60s — ʽ͙: 𝑯𝔢я 𝔰𝘸̲𝖊et𝔢st \p𝖊r𝑓𝔢ct𝘪𝒐𝖓 ·· 𝘪s cr𝒖𝖊lt𝒚 (!)

1964 , outside of briarcliff’s colorless walls the world is tinted in shades of pink, yellows, purples, browns, and more. sister constance outside of the dull, lifeless halls, adores herself in colors. be it through makeup or clothing , or her chevolret impala — constance’s affinity for color is the most defining characteristic of her, alongside of her sweet voice and sarcastic bite.

SOFT SPOT ━━╋━　 mdni .ᐟ oral (f), unprotected p-in-v mentioned, dacryfilia, blood mentions, spit and drool, overstimulation, impact play, cunt slaps, squirting, cum play, free use, dex is lwk a weirdo...

dex always had a soft spot for you.

you could get away with anything with him. he'd make dinner even after a long night out dealing with god knows what, covered in blood and all you'd still be his priority. it's not as though he wouldn't kill for you, bleed for you even, of course he would do that within a heart beat if you asked. but what really got you is the little things. the butterfly kisses, the squeeze of his hand when you got nervy.

so when he found you there, wrapped up in your sheets sniffling and teary eyed he knew what to do. crawling up into your bed and over your body, cooing sweetly in his rough raspy voice, his face hovered over yours.

"oh my poor baby—"

"lemme fix it for you— make you feel all better…", he whispers close to your ear murmuring in his heavy, low voice, his breath dancing across your skin as he reached his big hands to cup your face. it was dark and dim and the moonlight, that managed to slip into your room, framed him perfectly, highlighting the glint of his teeth and the slight inhuman look behind his eyes. you feel his thumbs rubbing across your cheeks softly, soothing your tears and wiping them away softly.

"s'all better now baby—"

dexs' body made its way between your legs as he dug his nose right under your jaw, inhaling your scent deeply as he split your legs wider, itching closer to what he wanted. his tongue lapped over your skin, getting a taste of your salty tears while his hands palmed over the the skin of your thighs. rubbing over them soothingly as his hands dragged under your flimsy pyjamas, palming at the soft skin of your belly and curling his thick arms around you to grope the plush of your ass.

he kissed you messily, letting his tongue slip into your mouth and trace over your teeth and gums, letting you suck at it needily as if it would placate you, distract you from your tears and mess of a mind. he laps at your tongue before he trails his kisses down your neck letting his sharp teeth scrape down the length of your soft skin, over your collarbones and drag down the dip in between your tits. he shifted while tugging down your panties, trying to get face to face with your cunt.

dex was drooling like a fucking animal leaving spit filled kisses and nips over the sensitive skin of you inner thighs as if he were taken over by the untamed, savage part of his mind.

"such a pretty pussy sweetheart…" , he groans with his hips pressing into the mattress, jaw slack.

"fuckin' delicious— poor things cryin' more then you—"

dex pulls your legs over his shoulders with ease, tugging your dripping cunt closer to the heat of his mouth, urged on by your grasping hands and heavy panting breaths of his name. his hands spread open your pussy, before glancing up at you with his endlessly dark eyes and a curl of excitement on his lips. suddenly he's nosing up into your cunt, letting his nose drag across your soaked folds and bump into your twitching clit.

a desperate, gutturally hungry moan leaves his mouth, straight from deep in his chest whilst grasping at your legs, keeping them pried open. he listened intently to each of your little gasps and moans, breathless and whiny praise that had him licking broad stripes along your pussy with a little smirk.

it's wet and disgusting and purely vulgar.

and thats exactly how dex liked it.

dex pushes his face further into your weeping, soaked pussy, kneeling between your legs as if in deep prayer. you taste like sin and salvation all in one. he groans, mouthing over your sopping hole, dipping his long tongue into it. the hot muscle had you seeing stars, your legs tense around him, holding him there.

hes lapping and babbling like a mad man, his nose swiping back and forth across your clit to your opening, soaking his face with your sweet slick.

"that feel good baby?"

you cant even answer, too busy crying out with your back arched and your eyes rolling back behind your eye lids. he lets out a tiny, almost mocking laugh.

"dex— fuck…"

"love it when you make that face—" he whispers lowly into your crotch as your thighs squeezed and trembled around his head.

dex devoured you completely, as if a starved man.

he buried his head into your bucking hips with crude slurps of his tongue, making a mess of himself with spit and slick drenching his face from his nose to his chin. your head tilts back with a loud moan and he knows you're close to release. this only urges him on.

"so pretty baby— fuck—"

his hands force you wider, watching your pussy pulse around nothing, drooling and crying for him to sooth it. he responds by spitting harshly, right on your pretty clit, making him let out a lazy laugh, watching patiently as it dripped down the rest of your pussy only for him to lap it all up again in one firm stroke of his tongue.

he groans loudly into your cunt, watching your chest heave as his hands tighten around your thighs. he can feel it, how close you are, he can feel it with every moan and cry and obscenely sloppy sounds of his mouth connected to your cunt.

"cum on my tongue baby— shit— c'mon—", he pants out as you begin to convulse, muscles spasming as you cry out his name, fisting at his hair as he tongue fucked you through your peak. he groans loudly, devouring your high not letting any of your sweet creaming release go to waste.

when he's done you're left a mess, a wet twitching, fucked out mess. you're panting into the sheets, barely awake with your hands reaching for him blindly as he crawls over you. behind your own slick and the mess of spit on his mouth he smirks, proud of his mess and with that mouth he kisses you. its gross, you whimper at the taste of yourself, letting him push his tongue into your mouth. he watches you face, your pretty fucked out face that barely understands what's going on. he can still see the dried streaks of tears going down your cheeks, he smiles humming against your mouth and into the kiss, all proud of himself and the state he put you in.

"feel better now?"

he smirks seeing you still spread out by his big hands, still shamelessly staring down at your wet plush pussy. dex loves the way you can't even respond.

"answer angel—", he huffs sternly, watching you let out a little whine.

"baby—", his smile widens before his hand comes down on your cunt making you yelp.

"dex!", you cry out grasping at his veiny forearms. you see the little furrow of his brow, still expecting an answer from your lips.

"i feel better dex…", you flush as you manage to sigh out, trying to tug him down to join you, to rest a little but its fruitless. he stays hovering over you, watching every little twitch of your body. he did that a lot, lose his train of thought while staring at you.

"dex—"

you're about to huff out a little whine to coo at him and get him to comply with your shaky arms only to feel another impact landing on your hot cunt, his rough palm brushing against your clit. you let out a moan instead, trying to back up only for dex to pull you back easily by your thighs.

this wasn't about him or his throbbing hard dick straining against his pants or how badly he wanted to stuff every inch into you until you squirmed desperately on his cock, squirting pleasure over his balls and lower tummy, coating him in your slick to show he was yours.

no, this was about you. how he'd do anything for you.

his smile grows again, kneeling down again, palming his clothed cock as he blows gently on you still wet cunt, admiring the little twitchy, pulsing movements of it.

"you got one more in you baby… you can do it f'me..."

the 60s — ʽ͙: 𝑯𝔢я 𝔰𝘸̲𝖊et𝔢st \p𝖊r𝑓𝔢ct𝘪𝒐𝖓 ·· 𝘪s cr𝒖𝖊lt𝒚 (!)

1964 , outside of briarcliff’s colorless walls the world is tinted in shades of pink, yellows, purples, browns, and more. sister constance outside of the dull, lifeless halls, adores herself in colors. be it through makeup or clothing , or her chevolret impala — constance’s affinity for color is the most defining characteristic of her, alongside of her sweet voice and sarcastic bite.

the 60s — ʽ͙: 𝑯𝔢я 𝔰𝘸̲𝖊et𝔢st \p𝖊r𝑓𝔢ct𝘪𝒐𝖓 ·· 𝘪s cr𝒖𝖊lt𝒚 (!)

1964 , outside of briarcliff’s colorless walls the world is tinted in shades of pink, yellows, purples, browns, and more. sister constance outside of the dull, lifeless halls, adores herself in colors. be it through makeup or clothing , or her chevolret impala — constance’s affinity for color is the most defining characteristic of her, alongside of her sweet voice and sarcastic bite.