#so i can approach it again and limit my interactions until i'm sure my brain will behave
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i'm pretty sure i've cut all content consumption out of my routine now
i don't mean that in the sense of i no longer consume content, i mean i've managed to remove it from routine behaviour
yes i will scroll instagram but it's not the first thing i do on waking until i get through all the posts since yesterday. it's just something i choose to do when i feel like it
yes i will watch youtube but i no longer go through all videos since yesterday from all the channels i'm subscribed to and watch them all or add it to watch later if i can't squeeze it into the day. this was my most recent success so i'm avoiding my subscriptions tab so i don't fall into the hole and am instead looking up individual channel videos to watch for no more than an hour. when i'm convinced my brain will behave i believe i will be able to scroll subscriptions casually and only when i want to.
this used to cause me such trouble because i genuinely saw these things as part of my routine so i'd be over here like man my routine of consuming content is all messed up because i went out for the day with someone i will need to double it tomorrow to fix it so i'm back on track. or i'd be like kinda wanted to do this today but a youtuber i follow uploaded a 2 hour video so I won't be able to fit it in :/
anyway that was trash. now i think i just have routines around food (3 meals a day) and work/study. Everything else is clean and free. I can do whatever I feel like when i have free time. i feel a little lost now but at least i'm no longer spending hours on content consumption when it's not actually making me happy
#i genuinely don't think i could've just made the decision to cut each thing out until i got to this point#each thing i've managed to cut out of my routine has been done as the result of a routine disruption#like i go away for two weeks and have no internet access#or my most recent one was bc i had a concussion and stayed away from tech for a week#i'm like well i alreayd dropped xyz for two weeks so i just won't pick it up again when i get back to internet access#and eventually enough time will pass that i cannot repair what i missed without putting in SIGNIFICANT effort#so i can approach it again and limit my interactions until i'm sure my brain will behave#every single time i've caught myself going ugh i don't really want to do this but i need to catch up#red fucking flag bro. it's content consumption. it's not that important. it should be fun and enjoyable#it has no place in my routine behaviour. it's welcome to be something i LIKE to do regularly#but cannot be something i find myself needing to do to meet my routine. that sucks#but hey. progress. curious to see where i can go from here#can start from scratch. what will i do with this.#the last week i have only spent time on my laptop to check my emails and do my uni work basically#then i shut it down for the day#that also feels good to me. i don't need to spend all day on it. i can do other things
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[so good, light up the neighborhood] - park sunghoon
genre: smut
description: after moving into a new home, you develop a less-than-subtle admiration for your neighbor - a handsome, charming man who also happens to be forty years old. sunghoon is 40, reader is in their 20s, dilf sunghoon (he's not a father, just a dilf if you know what i mean), unprotected sex, biting, power play kinda, sunghoon is flirty, dom sunghoon, older sunghoon (whatever you say daddy)
a/n: this fic kinda beat my ass, but i'm super excited about it :D been brewing this idea for a little while heheh
the late afternoon sunlight brightened the expanse of your living room, dramatically bright rays resting upon your eyelashes and obstructing the view of the drama on your television. albeit, you were rewatching it, anyway; and only half watching at that, since your mind obliged you into pondering the gentleman who now lived next door to you.
your recent move-in concluded only a week ago, the less-than-impressive dimensions of your new home still littered with empty boxes which sat in a neat pile beside your front door – your poor attempt at tidying the muddled mess of your unpacking process.
you approach the clutter of empty boxes, thoughts of your new neighbor lapping your brain rampantly, their stubborn insistence rousing a sigh from your lips. images of his delicate, genuine smile as he introduced himself, his habit of using ‘sweetheart’ rather than your name, his firm ‘you don’t have to strain yourself, let me…” as you attempted to carry all your boxes into the house alone remained on a continuous loop, beyond any of your better judgment or hollow efforts to distract yourself.
your knowledge of him doesn’t extend very far, similar to your brief list of interactions with him – the only information you’ve gathered thus far is his name, age, and the fact that he’s so inconceivably handsome your breath hitched in your throat when you first cast your eyes towards him. the shocking difference in age between the two of you didn’t deter your admiration at all – sure, he’s forty years old, and sure, that’s much older than you. in your mind, however, the fact that he was old enough to be your father only strengthened the enchanting spell your body and your wits were under.
“hey, sweetheart,” his familiar, yet charming voice rings out, gently diverting your attention away from your unseemly contemplations.
your legs halt, pausing your movements in your short trek to your recycling bin. you eagerly direct your gaze to his direction, and goodness, there he is; just the sight of his gorgeous face causes a smile to glide it’s way across your features, followed by a subtle blush. the sound of his car door closing reaches your ears in the same moment that his classic, sly grin adorns his face, fueling a flurry of warmth in your tummy. you were so overcome by your thoughts, that you hadn’t even noticed his car returning to his driveway…
“oh! hey, sunghoon,” you utter all too evenly – the pressure of the thump, thump, thump in your chest, and the shameful nature of your thoughts was not betrayed by your demeanor in the faintest degree.
oh, he’s coming over here, you think as he suddenly begins to approach you. his legs drag him closer to you until he’s standing directly before you, the width of his shoulders and his daunting stature causing you to feel caged in. you invite the feeling, however, shamelessly basking in shelter he can provide with his frame alone.
you fling the thought from your mind as his gruff, warm voice reaches you again, his proximity intensifying the metaphorical embrace your senses receive whenever the sound reaches them. with such a limited distance between the two of you, his voice was much softer, more intimate – you were certain you could feel the resonance his voice created in his chest across your skin.
“getting rid of all those empty boxes, huh?” he questions, his sly smile still proud on his face, but resting in such an easy manner. the ease of his expression mirrors the ease of his demeanor, not a single fray of tension shedding from him.
“oh, yea… yea, i am,” you respond, your gaze shifting to the boxes in your hand in a fleeting glance, before returning to his captivating eyes – his eyes were chasms, shimmering dark orbs absorbing every grain of your attention, unpermitted and unforeseen by you. though if you did garner any control of the situation, you wouldn’t try to resist, anyway.
his own gaze descends, falling upon the boxes you held before being captured by another, lower view. the pleat of your black tennis skirt was snagged underneath the boxes in your grasp, revealing the shorts underneath – the shorts designed to prevent situations like yours from becoming any less fortunate. though in your case, flashing the man in front of you with the sight of your thong would only serve to further gratify him.
he noted the sight of the not-so-generous fabric, paying particularly close regard to the way the shorts sink into your flesh, your thighs pillowing around the constricting material. you truly didn’t realize, did you? you were so blissfully oblivious to the mishap, but equally as oblivious to the subtle change in his relaxed gaze to a more appreciative one.
a muted huff drifts past his lips, and he allows his eyes another moment to delight in the glimpse of your flesh bared by such a favorable accident. shielding your skin from his own ravenous leering, he tugs the fabric down, freeing your skirt from the captivity of the box and effectively concealing the skin of your upper thighs. in the process, he allows his deft fingers to graze your skin, lingering only for a moment before his hand falls to his side. well, there goes the view, he thinks.
the vague blush which already plagued your features only brightens as you come into collision with the realization. the way he momentarily allowed his fingers to skim across your skin surely did not offer your rattled, wickedly jumbled mind any support.
a soft gasp spills from your lips, your eyes stretching wide as you struggle to accept the fact that sunghoon – your neighbor, and the man occupying every crevice of your brain – just saw up your skirt, whether the skirt in question was made with shorts or not.
“oh god, sunghoon… i’m sorry, i –” he intrudes on your frantic apologies, shaking his head dismissively as the warmth of his husky voice travels to your ears again.
“need some help, sweetheart?” he inquires plainly, though the tone of his voice seems to insinuate a path of events that are obscured from the realm of plain.
your heart stutters beneath your chest, a sense of almost pleasant alarm crawling over your body. the breath in your throat catches, much like usual while you’re conversing with your neighbor.
“help… help with what?” you inquire in return, the sound of your voice a feeble murmur, the breathiness only further shrouding your words.
his grin returns to his lips, stretched wide enough to allow his pointed teeth to slip, a memorable feature you came to realize during your first conversation with him.
“with the rest of your boxes,” he starts, a teasing lilt traveling through his voice. “i could help you bring them out.”
your shoulders begin to relax, the tension subsiding, leaving a subtle sense of disappointment to wander – a gesture you hope his gaze didn’t catch.
“oh, my boxes…” you utter, your head dropping slightly as a faint chuckle leaves your chest. of course he was talking about the boxes, how could you let yourself get so carried away…
“yea, i could use some help,” you follow, your eager declaration accompanied by a sweet smile.
as you oblige in a shameless degree of willingness, sunghoon removes the boxes from your grip, striding casually to your recycling bin.
your gaze remains on his frame for another moment, roaming over the expanse of his shoulders again, admiring the manner in which his black tee clung to him before you manage to avert your eyes – the fear of being caught grips you cruelly.
as you head towards the door to retrieve another set of boxes, sunghoon pushes the door open a bit wider from behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder, and allowing it to follow the course of your spine down to the small of your back. he ushers you inside with gentle grace, an equally gentle “right behind you, sweetheart…” passing through his lips. you’re endlessly grateful for his position behind you, since it shielded the apparent heat on your face from his eyes.
gosh, what’s his problem. the dominance behind such a simple gesture almost made you forget that it was your house, and you were the one leading him inside.
he permits his eyes to travel throughout your home, observing the manner in which you arranged all of your belongings.
“very cozy in here, darling,” he compliments. “did you do all of this by yourself?”
darling. that was new. goodness, he hardly even knows you, but he always manages to sneak an endearing title into conversation with you. you desperately cling to the conviction that it’s completely normal, he’s just being friendly, he probably speaks this way with every young girl… but the distant belief that he’s trying to communicate more than just that is beginning to outshine the former.
you face him with a quiet smile. “oh, yea. i did. i’m not entirely finished, but i’m glad you think it’s cozy. as my neighbor, you know.”
a soft chuckle escapes him.
“as your neighbor, yea…” he starts, a charming lilt littering his gruff voice. “well, i hope that as your neighbor, i’ll be invited over more often.”
a blend of slight shock and enthusiastic excitement mingles together in your expression. the slight increase of your heart rate causes your voice to sound a bit breathier than you intended, but he doesn’t seem to mind. in fact, he seems almost delighted by the reactions he keeps pulling from you.
“of course, you’re always welcome,” you respond naturally, hints of kind enthusiasm lacing into your words. you continue, hoping your eager yearning doesn’t come across him.
“is that something you would want, sunghoon?”
his eyebrows lift faintly, his expression relaxing from his usual sly demeanor.
“yea, it is, but…” he starts, taking a step closer to you.
“i hope i’ll get to see more than just the living room, darling…”
a gasp wanders from your lips beyond your will, prompting the familiar sly smile to return to sunghoon’s lips. before you can even begin to formulate a response, however, his voice rings out again.
“i’ll grab the rest of these boxes, and then we can chat, if you don’t mind,” he expresses with a hint of intrigue, his hands steadily emerging from his pockets and his head tilting in gesture to the bundle of boxes beside your front door.
your mind encourages you to nod, your body complying with the request to an almost instinctual degree. you move to assist him in collecting what remained of your moving clutter, following his figure through your front door.
“yea, i’ll… i’ll grab some too,” you manage out, surprised that your frenzied mind could feed you a coherent sentence.
once the two of you complete the task – a task which should have been simple, but was filled with tension and embarrassingly hungry anticipation on your end – you encourage him to sit on the couch, to which he complies easily. as your take your place beside him, he slithers closer, close enough for his knee to make contact with yours.
this contact, this proximity – you’d be completely comfortable with it under any other circumstances. if anyone else, or any other guy, for that matter, were in his place, you wouldn’t be flustered in the slightest. it’s him, though, and any bit of contact that he’s generous enough to grace you with turns every fiber of your body into putty. putty meant to be molded, maneuvered, and played with by him alone.
“you seeing anyone, darling?” he utters breezily, almost too casually for your poor mushy brain. other parts of yourself were beginning to grow rather mushy, too…
“no, i’m not seeing anyone,” you start, shaking your head gently, your hair swaying a bit with the gesture.
“why?” you continue.
his expression brightens marginally at your answer, though the brightness of his expression is still maintained by his sly, casual smile.
“you see, doll,” he prods, his voice a low timbre, coating your senses in a fresh wave of heat. his hand comes to rest on your knee, rousing every nerve beneath your bare skin, igniting a pleasant burning sensation with his touch.
doll? gosh, this man is non-stop.
“the first time i saw you in the neighborhood, i couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you are,” he compliments, the words tumbling from his lips in the same charming manner in which they always do.
he allows his hand to inch up your skin, fingers fluttering across your skin as he offers the flesh of your thigh a light squeeze.
his eyes falter momentarily to watch your flesh cushion around his fingers, but he regains his firm, locked gaze. “you’re such a beautiful, beautiful, sweet girl… it really shocks me to hear that you’re single, but…”
the distance between the two of you shrinks as he leans closer, breaking his stubborn gaze to speak against your ear.
“would you let me be the one to change things?” he urges, his breath warming your ear, while sending shivers to travel down your spine simultaneously.
what? you could hardly grasp the belief that this was reality, real life, he’s really asking you this question right now. you only spent a little over a week pining for your much older neighbor, yet here he was, in your home, making you aware of his reciprocated admiration without a hint of subtlety.
“y-yes, sunghoon…” you mutter, somehow discovering a way to form words despite the wildly intense thrumming in your chest.
his hand sweeps your hair from your shoulder, revealing your neck to him, and his middle finger traces along your jaw, tilting your head up a bit in the process. his fingers crawl to the back of your neck, still resting halfway against your jaw, dragging your face toward his.
“thought so, darling.”
his lips meld with yours, capturing your lips with his own, creating a rhythm which you matched enthusiastically. as though his hunger was beginning to struggle against the seams, his hand flies up skin of your thigh, squishing a greedy handful of your flesh.
his tongue slithers tauntingly along the seam of your lips, hardly waiting until you part your lips to shove his tongue inside of your mouth. he explores your mouth as though he was searching for something, seducing your tongue into an eager dance with his own.
garnering every bit of restraint from every tendril of his body, he parts from you, his nose gliding along your cheek.
“how far do you wanna take this, doll?” he breathes out, his voice littered with arousal and restlessness. the rasp in his voice gives way to just how narrowly he’s managing to control his impulses.
“as far as you wanna go, sunghoon…” you murmur feebly, inviting every unfettered bit of him to demolish you.
a sound resembling a growl rumbles in his throat, and he lays back against the couch, pulling your body on top of his. as you begin to adjust, his large, veined hands glide along your back until he grips a generous handful of your rear. his tongue skates along the sharp line of your jaw, and he begins to treat the flesh of your ass, ardently squeezing and kneading underneath the pleat of your skirt.
“you know how much i’ve been staring at this ass, darling?” he inquires rhetorically, one of his hands leaving your flesh to land a smack there, though he quickly returns to the kneading that he cannot seem to get enough of.
his hands reluctantly leave your ass, and he begins to lift your top over your head. he pats your bottom, instructing you to stand up, observing with awe as you pull your skirt and panties down without a single word from him.
he rids himself hurriedly of his own clothes – tossing his shirt aside and abandoning his pants and boxers in tandem, not sparing a glance in their direction as they fall onto the floor.
just as the final contents of his clothing reach the floor, you allow your unclasped bra to join them, before returning to your seat in sunghoon’s lap.
sunghoon’s hands reach for your hips before you can fully settle yourself, and he watches in stunned admiration as a string of your arousal gushes from your drenched, lavish pussy, dripping onto his aching cock as though extending an invitation.
“fuck,” he breathes out, his heavy eyes unable to tear away from the sight of you. his cock twitches powerfully from the subtle stimulation he received from your lavish arousal, and he removes a hand from your hip to stroke his cock, spreading the gift your pussy graced him with over his length.
“you get this wet just from being around me? god, you’re filthy, doll…” he tells you, thoroughly enjoying your shamelessness, and the plentiful flow of arousal you were offering him.
the temperature in your face rises, but before you can truly react to his words, he begins to lower your body onto his cock, filling your leaking pussy with his daunting girth. a groan escapes him as you engulf him, flooding his cock with such a luscious, warm wetness that he can’t wrap his mind around.
your feverish moan reaches his ears, and your hands grip onto his own, as though telling him ‘wait, let me get used to this…’ – sunghoon doesn’t allow you any amenities, though.
“goddamn you’re wet…” he announces, grunting at the snugness of your realm of warmth surrounding him. a sensation he had suffered deprivation from for so long, but now he’s finally indulging in it, finally sliding his cock into you. now that he’s captivated you, however, he doesn’t think he’ll ever want to miss out on the feeling of being encompassed by you.
all of your reasonable judgment was easily forsaken, and all you desired was to learn and memorize the feeling of his length inside of you.
“f-fuck, hoon!” you wail, as the rhythm of him fucking you onto his cock begins to overflow from your body, the squeeze of his hands against your hips as he guides you up and down only pleasuring you even further.
“mhm… there it is… let it out, my sweet girl,” he encourages hoarsely, any sound and syllable that falls from your lips a pleasant melody for his wicked ears.
at the sound of your goading cries, sunghoon’s pace hastens, his hips bucking his cock further into you as he forces your hips down to meet every merciless passing of his length through your warm, glistening spring. he’s unfaltering in his movements, sending your body and his own to such astonishing heights of euphoric delight.
as unimaginable as it seemed, sunghoon intensifies the sheer enchantment he was bestowing onto you as he leans forward, capturing your nipple with his mouth, suckling as his tongue glides over the nub in a gentle caress.
your cries, moans, and whines only blend pitifully into unintelligible sobs, convoluted pleas of “oh god, oh fuck!” floating from your quivering lips, pouring an abundance of sinful satisfaction onto sunghoon’s body. good god, you’re just heaven to him.
“gonna cum now, sweet girl?” he inquires in a dark breath, detaching his lips from your nipple only to begin suckling the other one, his clenching hand on your hip allowing his thumb to begin circling your fluttering clit.
your body can’t even conduct an action as simple as a nod, yet the way your body begins to tremble, and the way your helpless hands latch onto his shoulders in a form of nonverbal begging tells him all he needs to know. he exhales with a chuckle as your tears of devastating pleasure begin to fall onto his chest.
“you crying, doll? it’s just sex, i’ve got you…”
obliterating the sentiment of his sweet yet condescending words, his leg bends, allowing him to brace one of his feet against the couch cushion, and he brutalizes his pace of plunges into your pussy. his cock stimulates places inside of you far beyond the range of anything you could ever hope to even imagine.
you know you can’t hold out any longer as a wave of incomprehensible bliss coats your body, hazing your senses and your vision, your shuddering body absolutely staggered as the pleasure he provided showers you in a fountain of violent hysteria.
his hands tense around your hips, deft fingers constricting around your flesh as he compels your body into meeting flush against his own, luscious grinds and ruts into your flowing pussy suffocating him in a pit of pleasure, completely drowning every crevice of his body. though he’s enamored with this form of drowning, as long as it’s you submerging him. he floods you in return, spilling a stream of his cum inside of you, sharing his surging pleasure with you.
he meets your eyes, locking his stare to yours as he cums. “mmm… yea, fuck, darling… look at me while i’m fucking you…” he mutters with gruff timbre, his mouth falling open, bordering on delirium.
allowing the both of you a few moments to regain your breath and search for your composure, his veined hand coasts along your back, his breaths resounding heavily in his chest and lifting your delicate, fatigued body.
“can’t believe i’ve been missing out on all that, sweetheart… i think i like you needy,” he casually informs you, scattering a few wispy kisses across you shoulder.
he lifts your body off his cock, a soft grunt passing his lips as he leans up from the couch, cradling your weary frame in his arms, the mess of your combined clothing receiving neglect – save for the devious way he crouches down to slip your thong into the pocket of his discarded pants.
“so, darling…” he begins, his body striding toward the direction of your staircase. “where’s your shower?”
you don’t even pretend to resist the urge to rest your head against his bare shoulder, you wouldn’t ever dare to resist any urge you felt towards him anymore.
“last door on the left,” you relent, voice nearly too weak to carry to his ears.
a soft chuckle vibrates in his chest, tickling your skin as he ascends the stairs toward the destination you directed him in.
“so what about you, sunghoon?” you query, hushed voice still unable to conceal your curiosity.
he places you onto the bathroom sink, allowing your legs to dangle, gripping the counter on either side or your thighs. he leans a touch closer, his stark features even more apparent, now.
“hm? what about me, sweet girl?” he responds fondly, his expression twinkling with tender admiration.
your legs swing faintly, creating a bump, bump, bumping from your bare heels.
“i mean… have you dated anyone recently? or… are you seeing anyone now?”
the fondness in his expression intensifies, and a tranquil smile wanders across his face. he couldn’t quite say that he wasn’t expecting the question, but his eyebrows lifted nonetheless – in an almost pleased manner.
“no, darling, i… i haven’t dated anyone in a while,” he reveals honestly, another chuckle following soon after in preparation of his next words.
“...and no, i’m not seeing anyone now. don’t i strike you as a loyal man?” he teases gently, flashing you a charming smile, those familiar sharp canines revealing themselves again.
a giggle erupts from your lips, and you send him a playfully skeptical look.
“don’t smile at me like that. aren’t you a little too old to be playing that ‘i’m cute’ card?”
a husky chuckle emerges from his lips at your mischievous response, and his hand travels to your hip to grant a squeeze.
“cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” he observes, shortening the distance between your faces even further.
he pauses for a fleeting moment before continuing, a casual, relaxed smile returning to his features.
“i’ve gotta say, darling… i really wanna spend a lot more time with you,” he adds, his fingers dancing along the smooth skin of your cheek. his doting gaze does little to conceal the thoughts running unabashedly through his mind. from the moment he saw you, it’s like he was met with a certain clarity he’d never realized before. he can’t quite find the words, but he knows he’s unwavering in his desire to continue drawing you closer to him. now that he’s gotten you this close, he can’t afford to lose or waste a single moment.
“now,” he announces, his voice interrupting the rampant thoughts in both of your minds. he lifts your body from your sitting position, allowing you to steady yourself on your feet, before whirling you around and bending your body over the counter.
“you don’t think we’re done here yet, do you, darling? you think i’ll give my sweet girl a break that easily?”
my sweet girl? the impending frenzy in your mind is thrown into delay, replaced by surging arousal as his hands run down the course of your back, his touch almost like a torch across your skin.
he allows his eyes to immerse themselves in your prone form, before leaning down to sink his teeth in the flesh of your ass – the sharp edges of his canines nearly breaking your skin.
as you gasp, and snap your head behind you to gaze at him, he runs his tongue over the mark he created, expressing his appreciation with a grin.
“mine, now.”
#sunghoon smut#enhypen smut#enha smut#sunghoon x reader#enhypen x reader#enha x reader#sunghoon imagines#enhypen imagines#enha imagines#sunghoon scenarios#enhypen scenarios#enha scenarios#dom sunghoon#dom enhypen#dom enha#older sunghoon#older enhypen#older enha#park sunghoon smut#park sunghoon#sunghoon#enhypen#enha
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Okay, broke out the laptop to scream in your ear about some things I thought were really special about Skin Deep.
First of all, Simon's characterization. GODDAMN. Like you really know how to write him, how he goes more quiet and brisk the more nervous he is. So, so sexy, the way that Reader doesn't pick up on his vague cues that he likes her, but we alllll know what's happening. Nervous Ghost and don't-care Ghost are so similar, but you managed to convey the tiny details that made it thrilling to read.
The way you wrote him raising and lowering his mask was hot af. I could picture it every time, his little hidey place to help him feel less exposed to the hot girl looking at him with those eyes.
The descriptions of him being efficient and good at what he does -- SWOON. Big man with confident fingers make brain go BRRRRR
The subtle green flags throughout were just lovely. Watching her safely to her car. The way he abandons his usual silence to give her a bunch of info when she's nervous over text. The breaks, the modesty towels. Funny how it's so much more tempting to uncover yourself for someone who helps you stay covered. You just get it, Wren. You just get the nuance of attraction, and it shows.
When he insisted on that break, I KNEW. I LOVE guys jerking off in fics, you know why? Cause that shows they're not coercive. They fully understand that their sexual desire is their own job to manage, and it's just a thing they take care of because we're all adults here. HOT HOT HOT.
The attention to hygiene/contraception was super hot going hand-in-hand with grungy, cigarette loving Simon.
LOVED the part where Reader was trying to entice him to touch, and he wasn't understanding what she meant. That was so cute and funny.
Nipple play, ofc. Surprisingly rare in fics without lactation kink. Extra special to me.
He takes one of your thighs and wedges it between his own, until you’re no longer grinding against his cock but instead his denim-clad thigh. “You the kind of girl who can cum like this? Just from this?”
This made me stop and paste it in a note for my review, because WOW. I've never read anything like that before. *I'm* not someone who can enjoy that particular position, so every time it comes up in a fic it takes me out of immersion and my thumb is braced to scroll to something farther down that I can relate to. But for some reason, him just being aware of different styles of anatomy and knowing to ask that, allowed me to stay in it.
Three fingers!!! Again, so RARE but (imo) so considerate when writing massive dudes. *I* don't write three fingers very often, because I feel like there's this stigma about it, that no one else shares my feelings that it's actually a helpful option ahead of sex with like a 6'4" dude. So seeing you write it was like... wow. I'm being a lil bitch about this, I should just write what I fucking want, look at Wren, she's doing it.
“Alright,” he laughs, pulling his fingers free and wiping the wetness on his cock. “No need to beg.”
No need to beg?!? TEARS OF JOY -- this is just so much hotter than the ick I get when they do make Reader (me) beg. Just the zero-pressure interactions here were gorgeous.
The realism of him pushing past the limitations Reader thought she had of her own body was extra special.
The position keeps the penetration blissfully shallow (otherwise he might give your cervix a painful beating)
*pounding my fists on the table* YES YES YES when you're with big dudes, you learn real quick which positions are the best (shallow!!)
His zero-pressure approach to her pleasure, specifically when she says she can't finish a second time and he's just like, “If you can’t, then don’t,” GGHGHDSIODFDOS HOTTTTTT "if it happens it happens, but I'm just going to keep touching you like this for as long as I feel like, okay?" PINNACLE SMUT for me. Elite of the elite.
“Not sure I want you to cum now,” he says. “Hold it. I’m thinking it over.”
I had to go back and read this like four times because I didn't grasp at first that he was joking. I was just like, "Oh, okay, already doing orgasm control, hmm okay." And then was so confused right after hahahahaha
Aww the asking her out right after fucking is so good and sweet, and a wonderful way to cement his character in everyone's minds.
Just WOW. I'll be coming back for rereads of this.
This ask was such a treasure, YOU are such a treasure. You need to be put inside a safe, a lockbox, behind a tripwire or SOMETHING. I could not find you more endearing right now. Thank you for seeing nuance in this when I felt like there wasn't any. You're an incredible writer and it shows even in the way you read.
#void my warranty#wren answers#kicking my feet and twirling my hair on my lunch break#getting NO work done today
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Finding my MoJo with some mystic help
I'm going to put this out there...I'm an intuitive empath that loves her crystals and tarot cards. Pendant's, and rune stones.
So after my rows with nature, stress, family, Dr's, and all around ill health (I don't have many Immunoglobulin G's which I call goblin G troup). Thanks to Goblin Gs going AWOL I have been on antibiotics since July of 2023. 2 weeks on these massive combo pills and a week or two off, repeat either till I am antibiotic resistant or I can get the shots to force goblin G troups to join me and fight. Lets not forget inhalers, nasal sprays, pills both herbal and pharma. medications.
I am going to fight with everything I have through 2024 and if there isn't a significant improvement in at least one area I will stop any traditional medical practices I can and try for a more holistic approach.
Especially, after a bout with COVID-19 that took over 6mo to recover from I have learned to deal with energy syphons. You know, the people who make interaction challenging and tedious. I've always been able to gage a room and the people in it but never trusted my instincts. That has changed, I know am trying to trust my first impressions and inner voice now.
I said I'd mention Johhny Depp in this post so here it goes. It's nothing exciting but more annoying from my point of view.
During my "I quit and will just wait to die" moments during the end of 2023 I saw what my giving up was doing to my mother and daughter. That's when I decided to get through the holidays and then make some changes. So my fingers started typing in preparation things like... nutrition, keto, raw diet, balanced, yoga, brain eating itself, replacing white matter, and so on. Each time I searched a topic Johnny Depp showed up in a clip. There'd be a dog, guitar, baby, rants on his divorce, with his son, etc. His clips had nothing to do with what I was researching.
Let me refresh you...I DON'T CARE ABOUT FAMOUS PEOPLE SO i DON'T RESEARCH THEM. Though stuff does pop up occasionally it's not about one celeb over and over. During this time I had looked up why people couldn't leave Keanu Reeves and his girlfriend alone. My daughter brought it to my attention so I searched.
According to computer science if you search a topic either via typing it on a keyboard or verbally asking an AI like Alexa about it. Once you've selected the topic: famous name, raised garden beds, new roofs, dog characteristics, etc. the search engine (bing, google, etc) will flood you with ads regarding these specific topics.
Mr. Reeves plays bass in a band so why was Depp the one showing up?
After a few weeks of Johnny Depp ads annoying the crap out of me I went to bed irritated and with a killer migraine. That is until I remembered...things usually happen for a reason. What is the reason? So I asked Alexa...what instrument he plays, his band name, other members, play some of their songs.
I'll be honest and say the first song didn't resonate with me. I continued for a few more songs and one was an Alice Cooper remix. This brought nostalgia and emotion that I've missed since I stopped listening to music regularly. Migraines and music or any noise don't get along so I opted for quiet.
I asked for Alexa to switch to 80s rock and something clicked.
I've started this blog and not sure how often I'll post since I quit Social medias for the most part...esp FB, to limit screen times. I'm looking into a free course on coding through Stratford U. I have a BA in computers but it's been ages since I've written code or done anything with computers themselves due to illness.
Remember I am writing most things, except this blog, long hand.
Oh I want to say in case one of Johnny's people see this post that I wrote to him to thank him for reminding me about my love of music. I stopped listening again during a rough patch and he started popping up again! I grabbed my headphones and started listening to some Mozart. A day later the pop ups were back to normal.
I received a mass produced photo of him, I don't think he signed it and it was simply printed with photo but the gesture is nice. If one of his people read this tell him that even though we've never met I thank him for helping me out of a dark time via reminding me of my love of music and to keep spreading his energy.
When I wrote Johnny I didn't ask for anything but I just wanted him to know he'd made a difference in some ordinary persons life without even realizing it.
The writing of letters long hand, in cursive, has helped and if anyone wants to pen pal please let me know and I'll set up a PO Box. Assholes need not apply!
Time for a reading and meditation.
May you be grounded and good energy surround you
MV
#health#writing#Johhny Depp#self awareness#self forgiveness#deciding your own future#Humor#self peace
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“HAPPY.” T.H. Imagine.
Tom meets a little angel and you, her mom.
A/N: After reading some stories about single mom x Tom that were totally adorable, I wanted to write my own story that ended up being longer than expected. I hope you like it, please give it a try. Thank you! (And If you have time, listen to Kim Taeyeon and her song Happy :)
With a long sigh, Tom closes the door to the room and falls to the floor, because the pain on his shoulders is as heavy as the whole world.
The melon-colored walls and wooden flooring gives the hospice a warm touch, but the air in his lungs is cold when Tom takes a deep breath that comes in, trying to find spaces to fill in his soul and empty body. There is no one around him, no paparazzi, no interviewers, no fans screaming his name, no excitement of being a movie star who shines for his talent and charm. His heart beats fast against his chest, like an animal that hit the cage's bars that keeps him prisoner: it is fierce because he is afraid, and he feels as if he were falling into a spiral of madness in complete solitude. His hands tremble because the self-control slips from them like the sand between his fingers, fingers that he uses to brush his somewhat long and wavy hair, pulling on the ends because the pain is a reminder that he is still alive.
"Why are you so sad?"
The world lets him hear a voice that seems covered in cotton candy, as sweet as the 4-year-old (soon to be 5) girl in front of him. Tom blinks, confused, watching the infant's small face and the way her eyes look back at him until it finds his sad soul. Her eyes are dark blue like the calm waters of the sea, blue like the summer sky, alive and full of curiosity behind her long lashes: two hidden treasures that were a gift from her father. But the color of those eyes contrasts beautifully with her chocolate brown hair that falls past her shoulders and her white jacket with bunny ears hanging behind, while a melody is heard from the headphones hanging around her neck, a feminine voice that sings in another language, but whose voice is of a warm color that even Tom can perceive.
"Hello there, angel." Tom smiles feigning courage, and stops being a defeated body on the ground to change his posture and squat to be at the (emotional) level of a girl. "What are you doing here alone? Where is your mum?"
Marley smiles sideways, the corner of her lip curling up as her right eyebrow sinks in with the depth of her thoughts: she's skeptical, because she knows something is wrong with him.
“My mom says that if you smile very, very big, you will feel happy immediately. It is a psych... psychological fact.” Marley struggles to say that word, because she is still 4 years old and her bag of words, as she calls it, is still limited.
Tom smiles slightly, not with happiness because something is pressing on his chest still, but because he’s amazed at the intelligence of a little girl who wasn’t older than 5 years old. And suddenly, a tiny, positive feeling runs through him with a super speed and leaves him as fast as it came, but Tom discovers what it is right away and clings to it with firm hands while his eyes, that are like chocolate, shine with the curiosity of a small child, too.
"Oh yeah? Your mommy must be very smart then.”
Marley shrugs casually.
"She reads a lot." She says it as a fact, and her clasped hands in front of her make her look like someone bigger's action, or so Tom thinks, taking in every detail of her without realizing it. "Would you help me with something? I can't reach the vending machine and I want a yogurt.”
"Oh, sure." He replies, still a little surprised by a baby's choice of words, and soon as he gets up, he feels ashamed of himself as he remembers that vocabulary seemed like a difficult word for him. "I'm Tom by the way. What is your name, angel?”
"Marley. Marley Rose."
Marley smiles at him, throwing her head back so that she can look him in the eye, because Tom is taller than she is. Tom can't help but smile, and can't help but feel the tickle in his left hand as Marley catches his to guide him - which gives him a warm feeling. She leads the way down the hallway that is quiet so late at night, towards the empty living room and to the gigantic machine that is challenging for her and her short stature.
"Marley, where's your mum?" Tom asks again, because although he’s a good person, he can't help but feel concerned about seeing a little girl alone.
Standing next to him, Marley looks at him and the light from the machine makes the corner of her face shine.
"She is with my Grandma. She gave me this dollar to buy something downstairs, but the machine doesn't have chocolate yogurt!”
"No way!" Tom says, speaking a little louder, making a slightly high-pitched voice to imitate her: and it makes her laugh a sweet tune, like the sound that keeps coming out of her headphones. "Let me help you get your yogurt."
Tom takes the bill from her small hand and inserts it into the machine, he presses the number indicated on the screen, and then the machine pushes the yogurt bottle towards the opening at the bottom.
"You did it. Thanks, Tom!" Marley presses herself against his body in a quick hug before reaching her prize, happy.
Tom smiles; he cannot help it when he sees her open her bottle, because she is so sweet, so innocent, and because something is recomposed inside him by feeling the pure aura of a girl who seems to hide in her words, the wisdom of a much older person.
"Come on, angel. Let's go to find your mum."
Marley nods, the bottle still against her lips as her small hand reaches for Tom's, and again, she guides him down the hall to the gray-door elevators on the other side of that floor. But the questions that Tom has in his head disappear the instant those metal doors open under the sound of a ding, announcing the encounter with a person on the other side, a young woman who looks at him under the seconds that seems eternal to him, as if the world had stopped in his favor only to make that moment last more than a few seconds.
"Mommy!"
Marley's voice is even sweeter because she recognizes her mom, the being who gave her life and, who loved her, more than anything in the world. Tom watches you get out of the elevator and it's then that new questions appear in his blank mind, questions that, while are quite obvious, are quite difficult to assimilate.
"Marley Rose Daniels, you had me worried." But you sigh in relief, because your fears leave your body the moment you see her again. At that very moment, it is when you realize who is the young man who is holding your daughter's hand, because you know that he has been walking those hallways for a while, but that is a story for later. "Hi, thanks for taking care of her, please don't think I'm a bad mother."
"No, I could never-" Tom says, and then, he realizes he's speechless: because you look so young, so pretty too, and right there, Tom understand why Marley got such a sweet face. "Don't worry about it."
"That's good. Thanks." You say, slightly embarrassed, and your gaze that falls to the ground meets your daughter's eyes. "You pinky promised me that you wouldn't go away too far, Marley."
"But mommy, there was no chocolate yogurt downstairs." And at that moment, Marley lets go of Tom's hand, her head held high as she approaches you because she is not afraid of you, nor the reprimand that never comes, and instead, her hand takes yours and she looks at you with her warm gaze and her eyes with the color that some considered cold. “Sorry.”
"Stop obsessing over that yogurt."
"Never!" Marley pretends to be upset and frowns, taking a firm stance that makes you chuckle, and that makes Tom chuckle, too, because that interaction between you and her makes him happy when he realizes that you two are only joking, as if you were best friends. "Mommy, this is Tom, Tom, she is my mommy."
And you chuckle again, because, although your name is not mommy, it makes you feel proud to be called that way.
"I'm her mommy, but my name is (y/n)... Daniels." You extend your hand towards him, and a tickle runs down his hand before taking yours.
"Tom Holland."
"I know." You smile, rocking his hand in yours, because his hand is still closed, still intertwined with yours.
"You know? Oh.” Tom chuckle shyly because the movie star title still makes him blush, and is a thought that prevents his brain from noticing that his hand is still taking yours while his heart is still wrapped in the warmth of your fingers tips. "Oh, sorry."
"Don't worry about it." You smile, giving him his past words as you clear your throat, so that your next words don't tremble under your shyness. "Well... I think it's time to go home."
"Yeah." Marley and Tom respond: he, in a whisper coming from between his lips before he can stop it.
You chucke, but pretend not to hear it as you press the button on the wall, the metal doors opening instantly under the usual sound. With Marley's hand in yours, you walk in with Tom behind you, taking his place inside the little spot next to her, but when you try to push the button to the basement parking lot and he, the button to the first floor, your hands meet inches away from touching again, bringing nervous laughter.
"Sorry." You both say at the same time, and the timing makes you giggle again.
But with the floors selected, the doors close and your chest clenches painfully, as if the closed doors cut off the air that you can still breathe.
"Don't be scared, mommy." Marley says sweetly, but her hand on yours gives you courage.
"Thanks, baby." And when you look up, Tom is too slow to take his eyes off of you, and they reflect the question you can easily see in his tender gaze. "I'm scared of elevators."
"It's okay." Tom smiles, as if he wants to give you courage, too. "We'll be out in a sec–"
But his words are cut off like the lights that suddenly go out when the elevator stops abruptly, giving way to the emergency lights that only project their light on your most absurd fear after seeing so many accidents on television. Your throat closes painfully, as the air becomes hotter than normal, and for a second, you stay where you are, your hand holding your daughter's as Tom approaches the wall to press the emergency button.
"It must be because of the rain." He says, in an attempt to keep you calm. "Don't panic, the lights will come back in a moment."
"I hope so." You whisper, suddenly weak, fearful.
"Don't be scared, mommy." Marley hugs you, and her small hands cling to the side of your body, like the heat that she shares with you as the courage she gives you to keep you calm. "But can we sit down? I'm tired."
"I'm so sorry, honey, you should be asleep by now." You say and take the bottle of her hand, sitting on the floor and placing yourself in a comfortable position so that she can sleep on top of you.
"Tom, come, sit next to us." She says, and Tom smiles, and although he feels shy, he sits next to you against the cold ground. Protected by her mom's heat, Marley smiles, her head resting at your chest height, and she hides her eyes behind her eyelids that close with the fatigue that her small body can no longer bear.
"She's beautiful." Tom whispers after a few seconds later, and his gaze stays fixed on yours so you can see that he's serious, and that he's somehow, he’s talking about her inner beauty, too. "She's really smart too."
"Thank you." You whisper back, maintaining somehow, the pleasant silence. "I do my best to raise her, I really do, but sometimes I feel like she raises me."
Tom smiles.
"She told me that smiling makes you happy, that it was a psychological fact. I didn't know that such a little girl could pronounce that word. I can't even say vocabulary.”
You chuckle.
“She is 4 years old but talks like a woman sometimes. And when she talks to my best friend on the phone, I swear they can talk for hours. I think it was not a good idea to teach her what Kpop was, because they both don't stop talking about it. Sophia even bought her an Ipod.”
"Oh yeah, I totally understand you..." Tom says, feeling a strange joy at noticing that you have one thing in common. "Danielle, my mate's girlfriend is crazy about kpop too.”
"Yes, I know..." You sigh, relieved to be accompanied in the dark situation. “It looks like we will be here for a while so... Yogurt?"
Your outstretched hand holding the bottle makes him see you're serious, and Tom smiles unable to refuse the gesture, so he takes it, his fingers brushing yours along the way, giving it an electrifying feeling.
"Wow..." He says after drinking a little. “I get why Marley is so obsessed with this. This is really good!"
You smile, and something inside you breaks: setting aside the pain, maybe it wasn't a bad idea to have moved to London.
#tom holland imagine#tom holland fanfic#tom holland#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland x y/n#tom holland x oc#tom holland x single mom#tom holland fic#tom holland fluff#tom holland one shot#tom holland x original character#tom holland fanfiction
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