Tommy And Tubbo Matching Pfp นิยาย & เรื่องราว

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“and here I was, thinking he was a big boy.” Tommy pulled back and inspected my face, ignoring Damien’s remark. “Are you okay, mommy?” I smiled. Despite being left alone, he still worried about me first. I kissed his forehead. “I’m okay now, baby.” “Did you make her cry?” Tommy looked up at Rodney. Looking at them together, I noticed their features were quite similar. Tommy’s fingers were extraordinarily long and he had perfect nails just like his father. Rodney shook his head. “No. I’d never do that.”

the little boy spoke up. “How old are you?” Scarlet asked as she leaned forward. “What is your name?” “My name is Tommy. I am five years old!” He stuck out his little chest and was proud of it. His blonde hair was brown with dirt as his face was covered as well. His little blue eyes were still very visible and vibrant. “Tommy, who told you Alpha would kill you?” Scarlet asked, sweetly. “I dunno, it comes by here often and gives us food.” That really surprised all of us and not in a good way.

My plan was to pretend I didn’t recognise him for the loathsome scumbag he was, and it worked. Not blessed with too many brains then, the man Tori had told me hailed from Freebooters originally. In which case, it meant someone else had proposed him for membership and was ensuring he had the means to sustain it. The question was: why? I had my suspicions about that but didn’t want it to cloud my judgement so I cast it to the back of my mind. While Tommy declined the fizz and opted for coffee, as an old hand would, Rhodes accepted the alcohol like his fellow newbie who was making substantial inroads into the bowl of nuts.

I prop my phone on a stack of coasters, hit GO LIVE on the Riverbend Buy-N-Sell F******k group, and blow the camera a kiss. “Evening, y’all. Place your bets and your loads. Clock starts now.” First up is Tommy Lee, diesel mechanic, grease still under his nails. He drops his jeans, lines up, and slides home in one thrust. I’m already wet from the tequila shots and the sheer filth of what I’m doing. He groans like he’s dying, pumps exactly eight times, and unloads so hard I feel it splash my cervix. One. He pulls out, slaps my clit with his sloppy cock, and writes a fresh tally on my thigh with the Sharpie chained to the table. The chat explodes, 73 fire emojis in ten seconds.

He adds with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows. I give him a pointed look as this is an argument I suspect will continue having until the baby is born. “And I told you baby girls are dominant in my grandmother's line, beautiful ones too” I finish with a playful flip of my hair. “Now where are you going?” Tommy arranges the right sleeve of his leather jacket, tugging a little on the silver Zip sewn at the side “I have to meet Diego and Gio in the city for an errand… and no, you can’t come” he adds quickly when I start to smile.

He thinks about himself and only himself all the time but is nice to most people. Did someone come to mind, because I know one did for me. There's this one fuckboy at my school, Connor Owens, and he's probably the hottest guy in my grade. At least that's what all the girls think. He's tall, has brown hair, tanned skin, and the most mesmerizing bluish-green eyes. He's a really fun person to be around, and he's a pretty smart guy. We're in all the AP classes together.

He looked pale but surprisingly good for someone who'd been shot less than twenty-four hours ago. "Hi," he said, his gaze moving over our group with obvious confusion. "I'm Tommy." "We know," Troy said, stepping forward with confidence. "I'm Troy, and these are my brothers Lake and Soren. We brought you stuff because Dad said you were hurt and probably bored." Tommy's eyes moved to Xenois with a question in them. "My sons wanted to meet you," Xenois explained. "And apparently decided you needed entertainment." "That's really nice," Tommy said, looking genuinely touched as the boys started unpacking their offerings onto the bedside table. "Thank you guys. I've actually been pretty bored."

"Just say it." Tommy seemed to take a deep breath, then he took out some photos from his leather jacket and handed them to Bhuvi. "I met someone who looks very much like Mr. Damian, but I'm not too sure if it's really him or just someone who looks similar." Bhuvi appeared to carefully examine the pictures, then she opened her phone and browsed Damian's social media. Bhuvi then compared the photo with Damian's picture on her phone. "The resemblance is almost 100%."

“I just sent you a few photos. Need visual confirmation.” My heart jumped. I opened the messaging app. Three images. The first: Tommy, slouched in a chair at an outdoor café. Shirt half-unbuttoned. Aviators on. Tan like he’d been there for weeks. One hand casually resting under the skirt of a blonde woman grinding on his lap as she kissed him like they were in a fucking porno. His expression wasn’t even smug—it was daring. Like he wanted the whole world to see. My blood ran ice-cold.