#that I feel like starting at a point so forward in time won’t give the backstory the space I think it deserves

[peachkkuma]

welcome back to tiffany’s diary

it’s been almost a year since I stopped using this blog, so I thought I’d come on here and give a much needed update.

it’s a relief to say that this blog is outdated in terms of where I’m at rn in my manifestation journey. don’t get me wrong tho, I had the right idea. it was difficult for me to actually apply them + apply them without immediately crawling back to my old state, to the same old worries. I admitted it myself in an old entry that I was stuck in a cycle. not knowing what to do about a certain problem, realizing what to do, feeling motivated to manifest, and then back to square one.

a lot of that was because I had never really manifested anything intentionally before or my desired results. plus, I was guilty of not applying my knowledge the best I could. basically, I thought I was going somewhere. that when I squashed a doubt and felt that “I can manifest anything I want!” feeling, that I had climbed a step up on the staircase that was mastering manifestation. but I wasn’t going anywhere, I was standing still the whole time. the only real way for me to take a step forward was to apply.

and so I did.

October 2024, I had manifested for real (everybody cheered!!!). I don’t want this to sound like shit was all sunshine and rainbows or whatever, ofc there were ups and downs to it. ofc I had doubts I needed to address along the way. but what made it different from my previous “attempts” was that it wasn’t a period of stress and desperation. the “knowing” that comes with owning an assumption, I had felt that for the first time. like truly felt it. “I know it’s coming” wasn’t just something I would tell myself when I experienced a doubt, it was something I could immediately feel and then go abt my day with ease. it was something i trusted and believed in. I’d finally experienced what it was like to just assume. no crazy methods, no games, no writing it down on binder paper 333 times and then putting it under my mattress. I used visualization but not as a desperate attempt to speed up my manifestations or to make sure I receive it, but because it made me feel like I had it. and feeling like I had it felt great.

Prior to october, when this blog was active, i would read my favorite loa bloggers stress the importance of actually applying the loa over and over again. i understood exactly why it was needed— because, hello?? reading about manifestation doesn’t manifest. application does. but i always told myself, “later”. actually applying everything i knew to my circumstances, my desires, was pushed to the side. something else mattered more. assurance, confidence, motivation— a spark. i was desperate to feel a click. i craved an “i get it!” moment. after actual years of studying the loa and only just feeling like I’ve grasped it, I wanted to feel as though i had finally found the “key”. and that’s what kept me in the overconsumption cycle.

so if i could go back to last year, I’d tell myself: nothings gonna click, not from reading. the idea you have of “once i feel that eureka moment I’ll start applying” is built on misinformation. the wrong idea. things won’t actually click until you make them, by applying. when you see things go the way you intended them to go, when you’re going about your day and all of a sudden you realize that you manifested this very scenario, when you hear someone say the words you’ve imagined them saying— that’s when it’ll click. that’s when you’ll feel “oh. I get it now. I really, truly, get it now.” it doesn’t come from reading a post on tumblr, it comes from you actually manifesting.

so, that’s where I went wrong. you can know the law of assumption inside and out, you can write the book on it, and you can write 23 different guides on tumblr. but having knowledge and using it are two different things. i had gotten to the point where i finally understood the law. but what i didn’t get was that the time for understanding was over. there wasn’t any more reading to be done.

I had really wanted to feel as though I’d finally mastered the loa. it felt like every time I knew something about the loa, a doubt would creep in and I would question everything— I was sick of spiraling. I was sick of having the rug pulled out from under me. I wanted to reach a point where I js finally knew what to do. but what I failed to realize was that that point couldn’t be reached with information alone. you HAVE to test the law yourself. you need your own experiences with the loa. getting your hands dirty with the law of assumption is a huge way to not only get what you want but also have your doubts be put to rest for good. to have your questions answered and be satisfied with that answer. assurance can be achieved through first hand experience with the loa.

so there u have it lmao. now I truly have no use for this blog because I haven’t really had these huge spirals in a really long time which is what my dairy entries were based on. I don’t want to sound corny or maybe even unbelievable but it really is possible to reach a place where it gets better. you aren’t confused, lost, and in need of guidance all the damn time. obviously, this isn’t the cure for doubts. doubts are natural and are bound to occur. but that’s what it feels like, natural. not like they’re crumbling my foundation or shaking the ground beneath my feet.

you’ll save so much more time just testing out manifestation yourself instead to saying to yourself “one more post and then I’ll manifest” over and over. it’s SO much more rewarding. because once you manifest something, anything, it feels incredible. and it’s a lesson you learn from yourself, with yourself, that you won’t be able to find anywhere else.

ok thanks for coming to tiffany’s self reflection hour lmaooo

[twinklingwatermellon]

So the more I tinker with Hardwick House, the more I feel that the story I want to tell doesn’t really lend itself to the novel format? I’m trying to tell a more episodic story, little moments all coming together to form a big picture, so I feel that it’d work best as a tv show or a webtoon or perhaps a series of graphic novels or novellas.

(A webtoon or graphic novel series actually sounds amazing, but that involves, you know, artistic skills which I don’t have 😅)

[tobeholyistobeempty]

joel miller • be quiet, or i’ll make you

“Tightest pussy I ever had. Goddamn. You wanna feel good, huh? I’ll make you feel good. Just lemme’ have it nice n’ deep, and I’ll get you back later. Let you sit on my face for hours. Make you cum till’ you’re cryin.”

WARNINGS - smut smut smut mdni, porn with some plot, forced proximity, feral!joel, risky/secret sex, brutal sex, size!kink, dubcon if you squint but mostly a mutual want situation, reader and joel have an unspoken relationship, copious amounts of dirty talk, piv, creampie, daddy dom joel.

The world ended in disaster.

You’ve lived with that knowledge for years now, and you think you’ve finally come to terms with the kind of things you’ll get from it. Pain. Loss. Destruction. The same chaos, day in day out, just in different forms.

You know that at this point you’ll be lucky if you survive until tomorrow; so you take it in stride.

And it’s with that thought that you find yourself following Joel into the city, your steps just as reluctant as he was to agree to this. You don’t particularly want to be out here — and neither does he — but you’ve been wanting to look for more medical supplies for a while now and Joel wasn’t about to let you go alone. Despite how much bitchin’ he did beforehand.

You can’t tell which is more depressing; the streets covered in broken glass and littered with remnants of a life long gone, or the buildings that are nearly crumbling to the ground. Neither are very pleasant to look at, but not many things are these days, so you keep moving. You have a job to do, and you don’t have too much time to do it — the sun won’t be up much longer, and you want to get the fuck out of here before the real dangerous kinds of people come out lookin’ for their next meal.

Or, whatever Joel had said earlier. Mostly just in attempt to scare you.

Minutes feel like hours as you keep your gaze pointed forward, and when you pass a shattered window belonging to some old broken down building, you don’t dare look inside.

You’d rather not know what lingers inside death eaten walls.

But it’s while you’re doing that, keeping your gaze ahead, that you miss the fact that Joel has stopped walking. When it finally registers that the world around you has gotten quieter - and when you finally do turn around - you’re surprised for two reasons.

The first being that he even stopped at all, and the second being the fucking look on his face.

“You alright?” You ask as you edge closer, glancing at the abandoned building that’s in front of him. It doesn’t look like anything remarkable, but there’s definitely something in the way he stares at it. “Joel, you still with me?”

He isn’t saying anything, his expression is rather blank — but you know him well enough to know that he’s not just seeing what’s right in front of him. He’s seeing something else entirely. He snaps back to attention faster than you would have expected at the sound of your voice, and when his eyes land down on yours - there’s something inside them that makes your heart sink.

“Somethin’s wrong.” Is all he says before he’s grabbing your wrist, and yanking you inside.

Your heart starts pounding faster, but you try your best to stay calm. He isn’t the kind of man who would panic without cause, so you know he must have seen something - or heard something - and you’re doing your best not to let that scare you.

“Joel—shit—what the hell—“ you stumble over rubble and pieces of broken furniture. “What’re you—“

He’s pulling you deeper into the building, not giving you a chance to stand still long enough to say more. When you get to a staircase he yanks you down a few steps, waiting for the sound of the door shutting behind you before shoving your shoulders back against the wall.

“You listen to me—“ he’s panting, words spat through grit teeth. “You’re gonna’ shut up, and you’re gonna’ stay quiet. Can you do that for me?”

The tone of his voice alone forces you to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from talking. It’s been a long, long time since you’ve seen him this serious. You’d almost forgotten that he was capable of producing this kind of tension - the kind that’s so palpable it could be cut with a knife.

So, you just nod, lips pressed into a thin line, and you hope that it’s enough.

“Alright.” He doesn’t seem certain of your answer, but he nods anyway, reaching for your wrist again and dragging you down the remaining stairs.

When you get to the bottom, he opens the door slowly, eyes darting around until they land on a nearby closet - and it’s only after the first step you take towards it that you hear noises on the floor above you.

Footsteps.

And way too fucking many for you to be comfortable.

The kind of heavy, laden-boot marching you’d dread to hear on good days - nevermind while you’re out in dangerous territory, trying your damnest to flee unseen. It’s only seconds before the steps grow louder, and you can feel your heart rate speeding up again - while Joel is staring at the ceiling with such intensity you think that he might just be able to will it to break if he so much as blinked at it.

Then, in a flash, he snaps out of it - dragging you toward the closet and shoving you inside before you can even think about protesting.

And god, is it fucking cramped.

The closet is small. Small enough that you have to force yourself closer to the wall so that he has space to squeeze inside behind you. And it’s within the first second that he shuts the door, and the darkness swallows you both whole - in which you realize you have a new problem altogether.

“Joel—“ you choke out as a heavy palm snakes around your waist, pressing tight against your belly. He’s a solid wall behind you, his front flush against your back, and all you can fucking feel is his hot breath against your ear - his stubble tickling your cheek. “What’s—“

“No talking.” And then he brings his free hand up to cover your mouth, and you have to stifle a noise that threatens to explode in your chest. “Not a fuckin’ word.”

You take solace in the fact that he can’t see how flushed your face becomes, but your stupid brain is working overtime - overanalyzing the feeling of his calloused palm against your lips, the heat of his mouth way too fucking close to your ear, his free hand that seems to be sliding lower down your abdomen—

“Stop squirming.” He whispers, all heat as his fingers press a little harder against your lower stomach.

You long to bark at him. I can’t control it.

But you can’t. So instead you try to focus on the sounds of the people upstairs. You try to pay more attention to the way your heart is threatening to break free through your sternum. Anything to try and take your mind off of the way he’s touching you - but he makes it so, so hard.

You’re certain you would have a better fighting chance if you were to try and move mountains.

Without even thinking, your hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, and it’s then that his lips curve into a smile against your ear. And when the realization comes crashing down - the realization that he’s fully aware of what’s happening to you - you think you may just collapse.

Oh, god, this is torture.

If it were anyone else, you’d think this was a joke. You’d think that perhaps the way he’s touching you was some kind of attempt at making the terrifying just a little more tolerable, a little more exhilarating for different reasons - but this isn’t just anyone. This is Joel. And you know his mind never works like what. Instead, he simply acts on instinct - in ways that usually leave you reeling and your thoughts in a whirlwind.

You’ve been through this a million times with him.

Unsurprisingly, this time is no different.

And as you try to focus on the footsteps above you - desperately searching for a thought, a train of any kind to follow - his hand moves again, fingertips tracing the waistband of your dirt covered cargos - barely dipping between fabric and skin.

It’s slow, teasing, but it’s enough. And you don’t currently have enough control over yourself to stop your back from arching, pressing directly against the bulge in his jeans that’s growing impatiently despite himself.

And it’s the way he exhales in your ear, the way you hear him inhale right after before his nose brushes the shell of your ear — before his hand dips lower to trace the zipper of your fly — that you find yourself fighting for your life to swallow the moan that threatens to spill because the people on the second floor are now shouting and hollering, and the whole floor seems to quake under the force of their heavy boots.

A second passes. Then two, and then ten — there’s silence. You’re pretty sure the steps are now heading away from where you’re hiding, and you think Joel must agree because he slips his hand from your mouth, sliding it down your jaw.

“Joel—“ you choke out, the last syllables of his name sounding desperate. “I-we—“

And yet again, you aren’t able to finish, because he has a habit of taking the words you think you want to say straight from your chest. You aren’t able to process it until a moment later - when his mouth finds your neck, fingers slipping into your now unzipped cargo pants.

This isn’t what you meant.

You don’t have the chance to tell him that. You don’t have the cognitive ability to push the idea that this isn’t the time. You don’t even have enough room in your head to acknowledge how this could go so badly, so quickly. You’re too drunk on the high of his touch to think straight.

And when his fingers drag the lace of your underwear to the side - all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and pray to a God you’re sure you’ve never actually believed in that you’ll survive this without the shame over how fucking soaked you are eating you alive first.

His fingers find your clit, making slow, small circles. Just enough to make you keen. Just enough to make you forget who you are, and what you’re doing. You think if he keeps it up for any longer, the sounds trapped behind your teeth are going to jailbreak before you can get a handle on them. He knows it too - because it’s only a split second after that thought enters your mind, that he whispers gravel in your ear again.

“If y’can’t stay quiet, I’ll make you.” And it’s said with enough sternness to let you know that it isn’t a threat, it’s a promise. “Be good f’me.”

You don’t know if you can. You don’t know if you can possibly keep yourself silent. Not when his lips are teasing your burning flesh, not when his fingers are rolling your clit, not when he’s whispering promises of heaven in your ear.

But it’s then, that you hear the floorboards creak, and you know then, that you have no choice.

Either find a way to stay silent, or throw yourself headfirst into danger.

“Mm.” He hums as his fingers slip lower, sliding along your slit until they find your embarrassingly wet heat - to which you find yourself widening your feet despite yourself.

And this time, the noise that slips isn’t audible. Not to him anyway. But you can feel the sound vibrate the back of your throat. You can feel the way it glides over your tongue - and when you have the wherewithal, you bite down on your bottom lip, hard enough that it’s almost painful. He doesn’t seem to notice, and you’re glad because you know he’d only find it funny.

He pushes a finger into you, and holy fuck—

“Oh—“ the sound gets out of your mouth before you can stop it, involuntarily defying his direct order to shut the fuck up.

You hope, foolishly, it was quiet enough for him to not hear.

It isn’t, and as a result the hand that had been sitting lazily around your jaw slips firm over your mouth again, yanking your head back against his shoulder. You feel his fingers tighten as if to let you know that it’ll only get harder as his finger pushes deeper, and then retreats, pumping into you slow and steady.

“F-fuck—“ your whine is smothered against his palm, and you somehow have half the mind to realize the footsteps have stopped. Vanished. “J-joel.”

You’re expecting some type of response, some biting be quiet — but instead, all you get is a deep grunt in your ear and a roll of his hips against your ass as he slides another finger into your cunt, thumb brushing your clit.

And there’s almost no fight in you left to resist this - to resist the pleasure he’s pouring into your veins. You’d curse him if you could, if you could put more than four coherent words together to do it - but all there seems to be left in your mind is his name, which he’s using against you like he always does.

“Good girl.” He praises between slow, steady thrusts and you have to wonder what kind of game he’s playing to get you like this - to get you so undone you don’t even remember your own goddamn name.

Then again, you know better than to think there’s a game, at all. There are no games with Joel. He does what he wants and you’re either the benefit of it, or you’re the object of his ire.

But when a third finger slips into you, stretching and stuffing your cunt wider than you were mentally prepared for - you forget about any of that as you bite down on his hand as hard as you dare because it’s just too fucking much.

“J-joel—“ you try again, shaking your head. The footsteps haven’t returned. You have to believe they’re gone. You know Joel knows it too. “P-please—“

And like someone struck a match in a room full of gasoline, he seems to have decided that you’ve waited long enough. In the blink of an eye, you feel his palm leave your mouth, and move to the limited space between you. He’s unbuckling his belt.

“What’s the matter, huh?” He all but growls in your ear, still pumping his fingers deep. “Three too much for you? How d’ya think you’re gonna’ take my cock if you can’t even take my fuckin’ fingers.”

God. His voice is deep, dripping like sin. It goes straight to the center of your chest and you feel like the walls of your rib cage are cracking open. You have no idea how you’re going to be able to take him like this - especially when he’s so far gone it’s like he’s forgotten himself.

“I-I don’t know—“ and it’s the truth. You have no concept of how you’ll take a single drop of him in this state. But he’s already shifted himself free, pulling his fingers out to yank your pants down and slide his throbbing shaft into the slick space between your thighs. “F-fuck. You’re crazy.”

“Worse.” And you already know what he’s going to tell you just by the way the word drips into your ear. “M’insane.”

Truer words.

You never imagined that you’d ever find the thought of Joel Miller going insane so enticing. You imagine all kinds of ways you would have pictured it if someone had told you back when you first met - but somehow, this was never one of the things that came to mind.

“What does that make me?” You hiss as his fingers find your clit again, as he kicks your legs a little wider to slide his leaking tip against your slit.

“A goddamned fool.” He answers as he sinks into you, and there’s never been a more divine connection in the world. He groans into your ear, and you have to bite your lip again until you’re sure you might draw blood. “But you already knew that.”

And somehow, even still - you do.

Yeah. You do. He isn’t the type of man someone can ever know fully. He’s got walls and barriers built high - a fortress, impenetrable and vast - but somehow, you still manage to squeeze your way through it. It isn’t lost on you that you’re the only one who has.

“J-joel—go fuckin’ easy, please—“ you’re grabbing at the wall infront of you as he splits you open without so much as giving you a chance for breath. “It’s—been a while—“

And that stops him for a beat - but not for long, and not long enough. He still doesn’t go easy, still thrusts right to the hilt with the kind of power you’d associate with a man half his age - a man who (if the world hadn’t gone to hell) would be so close to retiring that he could taste the future on the back of his tongue - but you wouldn’t want him to anyway.

“I know, babygirl. I know. Just take it nice n’ deep, f’me. Just take it.”

And then he grabs a handful of your hair, pulling you back so he can get even deeper, your spine arching just enough.

Fucking hell.

The sound that’s almost impossible not to make threatens to rip from the pit of your chest, but you bite down in time and it turns into something between a strangled cry and an elongated whimper. You know you’re going to be walking funny tomorrow - but right now, there’s no such thing as being able to imagine tomorrow.

“You—fuck.” It’s a whisper so pained someone might think you’re actually being impaled. In some ways you are. “Oh, god, Joel. Ohmygod you’re deep—“

“There she is.” He all but growls into your ear. “There’s the tough woman I know.” If he wasn’t holding you so tightly you might’d fall at the way he suddenly slams into you. “Tightest pussy I ever had. Goddamn. You wanna feel good, huh? I’ll make you feel good. Just lemme’ have it nice n’ deep, and I’ll get you back later. Let you sit on my face for hours. Make you cum till’ you’re cryin.”

You almost bite your tongue in half at the very thought of him doing that. Your mind is a wasteland of icoherent thought - and it’s then that you know with all the certainty in the world that you’d been done for the moment he came into your life. He always had a rough edge to him - but back then, when you first met, you thought it was just the product of a shitty life. But now, you know better - now, you know he’s just a good-natured person with an innate drive to protect - and you’d go to your grave knowing that you’d go there loving him for it.

Even though, right now, it feels a lot more like he’s trying to kill you rather than protect you.

“Ohhh, fuck—“ you hiss through grit teeth as he pulls out, dragging slow at tight, wet walls. “M’close to cryin’ now.”

“Mmm.” He all but purrs. “That’ll mean I’m doin’ my job right.” There’s heat in the way he speaks that you swear would burn even the toughest person. But then again, that’s always been something you’d only ever been able to say about Joel. “M’not gonna’ be gentle. You know you ain’t deserving of it right now.”

Another time, you’d tell him he was wrong. Another time, you would have argued that you hadn’t done a single thing wrong - but right now, your thoughts are just as lost as your voice.

Still, you try your best. “W-why? Because I—mmf—dragged you outta’ bed?”

“Wrong.” You can’t see it, but you’re sure there’s a smirk on his face. “You really wanna get into it? Wanna’ make a list?”

You don’t, but you have the horrible feeling that this is going to happen either way.

“Do I have a choice?” You ask with what little breath you can find.

“No.” The word sounds so simple - but in that moment, it might as well have been a dagger. “You don’t.”

He pulls out just so he can drive back into you harder, hand sliding from your hair and back over your mouth.

“First, you dragged me outta’ bed. That right there? Shoulda been spanked for it. Next, you got yourself pinned in a goddamn closet with me after raiders chased us down. Almost got us killed.” Another painfully slow draw out, followed by a hard drive back in - smacking your cervix. “An’ for what? Cause’ you don’t wanna’ listen when I say it’s too dangerous to be out here.”

There are a million retorts you could have - most of them have something to do with you being able to take care of yourself - but none of them even find the beginning of your tongue.

He’ll take that win. Just like he takes everything else.

“Not t’mention you’ve kept this perfect ass from me for far too long.” He’s fucking you hard now, head kissing your cervix with each long thrust and you’re crying out under his palm but the sound doesn’t escape. He makes sure of it. “Mmm, yeah. Far. Too. Long.”

You want to tell him to shut up - that he’s being an ass - but you’re two broken breaths from wailing at the sting on your cervix and the pressure he’s now swirling on your clit. The only thing that’s left for you to do is the only thing you can do.

Take it.

You roll your hips, shoving back against him with every thrust just to have him hit that much deeper - and if he has something to say about it, he doesn’t say it. But he seems satisfied with just that, and suddenly, you think he’s just as close as you are.

“That’s it.” His voice is tight. “Good girl. Just like that.”

His hips snap against your ass so hard you think you might end up bruised tomorrow, but the thought only adds to the haze in your mind.

“Ffffffuck—Joel—“ you mewl, pathetic desperate and needy as a whore, against his palm. His fingers speed up against your clit. “Oh!”

“Take it, baby. Make me fuckin’ proud.” He hisses in your ear, a groan slipping out between it. “So good. Pussy feels so good.”

“Gonna’ make me cum.” You try to speak - maybe another time you’d be embarrassed by how desperate you sound, but this isn’t that time and it’s not the time to be anything other than truthful. “Mmm—gonna cum J-joel—“

“Yeah you are.” He grunts, the rhythm of his thrusts stuttering just a little. “Squeezing my cock so goddamn tight. Fuckin’ cum on it, babygirl. Wanna’ feel you.”

The sound that pushes past his palm at just the last moment doesn’t sound like you - but you know it is. It's the sound of the kind of pleasure that you’ve never experienced before that makes your entire body feel like a rubber band that’s too tight, and you have the vaguest sense of your walls squeezing the life out of him but there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening at all - becuase your climax hits you like a goddamn freight train and its run you over hard.

You think he’s saying something - you know he is - but you can’t hear anything aside from the blood racing in your ears. Even still, you know exactly what happens next, because you’ve experienced it so many times. The way he loses himself, like he forgets every bit of control he prides himself for having and the need to empty himself inside you takes over.

He spills into you hard - and you love every second of it for the simplicity of the comedown.

It’s the kind of feeling that washes you in warmth. It’s the kind of feeling that tells you that the world is going to be okay, so long as you’ve got him and he’s got you. He groans and his hands come out to brace against the wall infront of you to hold himself up as he shoots hot jets of cum deep inside your cunt - and you can’t remember the last time you’d heard him breathe this hard. Though, truth be told, you can’t remember the last time you heard yourself breathe this hard, either.

Your mouth feels dry, your mind feels hazy, and your legs feel weak - and as he leans over you, he can surely tell all three - but he doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he drags his mouth over your ear with an inhale.

“Mmhmm.” He grumbles as he presses a kiss to your jaw. “Look what you made me to do ya.” Your cheek gets the same treatment, and a breath later as he turns your head slightly, your lips do too. “Gonna’ have my cum leakin’ out of ya all the way back to camp.”

The sound you make doesn’t even seem human, but it’s muffled before it even comes - because he’s kissing you. And it isn’t a hard kiss like you’d expect - it’s slow and steady, and you know he’s doing it in a way to say sorry, as if he realizes he might’ve gone a little too far.

You smile into it, and he does too.

“You really are insane.” You whisper as he pulls back slightly. “My cervix gonna’ need a week vacation after that.”

“M’not a good man, darlin'. If I was, I’d say sorry for that.” He whispers with a small kiss against your lips. “But I ain’t. So, I’ll just tell you I’ll take care of you later as much as you like. That good enough for now?”

There’s only one answer for you. Only one that’s ever been the answer with him.

“Always.” There is a beat of silence, and you smile in the dark. “I love you.”

He pulls out of you, finally, leaving the part of himself behind that tells you how much he loves you too without verbalizing it. Soon as he fixes his jeans, he helps you fix yours.

“And I love you.” He whispers, calloused palm finding your own. “Let’s get outta’ here. The sooner we’re back, the better.”

And that, you can’t agree more with.

[agoraphxnics]

fem!afab!reader

wandering into a cave to seek shelter from the storm only to come across a slumbering dragon!price. he’s massive with radiant golden scales. you freeze, adrenaline shooting through your chest and piercing your ears. you slowly back away, trying not to wake the beast, when your back crashes into a thick wall of flesh. you look up to see another dragon!gaz blocking your exit.

“hmm, what do we have here?”

you face him, stepping backwards to make some distance. gaz isn’t as large as price, but his red scales still intimidate you to no end.

“i-i’m sorry, i didn’t know this cave was occupied. i was just cold and needed a place to hide! i-i can leave and never come back!”

a grumbling resounds from behind you. it shakes the ground you stand on, making you shake from more than just the frigidness. a third dragon!soap appears, picking you up in claws and bringing you to his piercing yellow eyes and green-scaled maw. “poor li’l sapphire. didnae know this was a dragon’s nest?”

you curl in on yourself. “n-no! i swear! please don’t eat me! i promise i meant no harm!”

gaz laughs, stomping forward to look at you closer. his maw is so close—just one sharp exhale, and you’d be a pile of ash. “trinket, we won’t hurt you. you’re too cute to eat.”

“ye. we only want tae play with you a bit,” soap adds, using his other paw to ‘gently’ pat your head. it jolts your whole body.

you sniffle. “what do you mean?”

“mating season.” from the darkness, a fourth dragon!ghost appears. he’s taller than the two, all black scales and authority. you gasp, eyes widening.

“si!” soap scolds.

at the same time, gaz says, “don’t scare her even more than she already is!”

the former huffs. “why waste time when we can get to the point?”

gaz pulls away slightly to give you space, but his gaze still holds yours with intensity. “look, trinket. we dragons mate in autumn, and you caught us at the right time. if you help us, we’ll reward you handsomely.”

“john has quite the hoard,” soap continues, “and he’d be willing to give ye whatever ye need to live comfortably for the rest of your life.”

“all we ask is that you let us breed you,” gaz finishes.

you gulp, the adrenaline now pooling somewhere else. somewhere wet and hot. the idea of four dragons fucking you makes you keen, thighs pressing together unconsciously.

“but how would this work?” you ask, looking over at ghost’s underbelly. from a slit on his abdomen, you can see two large cocks starting to poke out, and from the heads alone, they each look just as big as you.

the three chuckle, and soon a fourth voice joins in on the laugh. price finally makes a move, standing up and walking over to fully cage you in soap’s palm.

“oh, treasure,” he rumbles amusedly, “dragons can shapeshift. we wouldn’t want to break you, would we, boys?”

the three grunt in response.

you feel awed by their power, and when you don’t respond, price barks out an order. “kyle. simon. johnny. show my treasure what i mean.”

soap places you back on the rocky floor. suddenly, the sound of cracking and contorting echoes through the cave. and before you know it, three massive humanlike men stand before you. sharp horns protrude from their heads, human flesh surrounds random patched of scales, and their backs sport gigantic wings and a tail. most importantly, however, they are naked and proudly presenting two scaly cocks between their legs, tips weeping with seed.

in that moment, any doubts or reasoning went out the window. drool ran past your lips, and your tongue quickly followed to lap it up.

soap laughed, crouching in front of you to caress your face. “li’l sapphire likes what she sees.”

“does that mean we can ‘ave ‘er?” ghost grumbled, claws moving to fist his aching cocks.

gaz sneaks behind you and whispers in your ear, “it’s up to her.”

you take them in, lustful eyes raking over their faces, their bodies, their everything, desperate to find out what pleasure they’ll give you. craning your neck up to where price still towers over you all as a dragon, you call, “can i see you, too?”

a contented sound leaves price’s throat as he shifts into a burly man just as aching as his pack mates. he stalks to you, those eyes still gleaming like the apex predator he very much is, and he turns you to face him. “well? are you pleased with your mates?”

you nod.

the four of them purr, finally putting their hands on you.

“good treasure. now just sit there and look pretty for us. we’ll take good care of you.”

writing smút is hard >_< maybe i’ll continue this one day but for now enjoy dragons bc they hot asf

[stunie]

“YOU CRAZY? I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!”

WIND BREAKER + YOU NOT RECOGNIZING THEM. ft. hayato suo, kaji ren, togame jo, & umemiya hajime x f!reader

filled request : a chunk of it -> “..reacting to drunk reader not recognizing them and they wanna take reader home but reader won’t let them and tells them to fuck off or else her boyfriend (which is right infront of her) will kick their ass..”

notes : aa ! ! i am also a sucker for plots like these !! sorry it took me a while to get to >: thank u sm for sending this in nonnie <3 (cw alcohol ; but the consumption isn’t really mentioned in this)

HAYATO SUO.

“don’t you dare touch me,” suo’s eyes widen when you’re clumsily swatting at his hand, half lidded eyes narrowing into your best attempt at a glare. your words are slow and slurred, but he still manages to understand the gist of what you’re trying to say. “my boyfriend’s gonna make you pay if you do,” you huff, pointing an accusatory finger at him and jabbing it a couple times into his chest for extra measure.

“oh?” his gaze softens a bit, unbeknownst to you, and his smile is back the second he understands what’s happening here. “your boyfriend? where is he now?”

the way your glare immediately falls at your realization almost makes him feel bad, and he’s giving you a smile of pity when your lips tug into a deep pout. “um…” you frown, eyebrows furrowing to rid of the tears already starting to blur your vision, “i don’t know…”

“you don’t know?” suo’s voice is steady, easily hiding the way he’s stifling a laugh at the sudden change in your demeanor. he’s watching with amusement as you start to sniff, hands coming to messily wipe at your eyes with your sleeve as you start babbling, spewing out things about how “you need to find your boyfriend right this second” and how you’re “all lonely now.”

“oh dear,” he chuckles, hands coming to lightly grasp around your wrists, “your boyfriend has told you not to wipe your eyes like that before, hasn’t he? you’re going to irritate the skin.”

“mhm,” you give him a shy nod before staring up at him with confusion, gaze flickering to the thumb he’s bringing to gently swipe at the tears collecting along your lashes a moment later. the way you’re stiffening up at his touch is cute— and it looks like you’ve unconsciously recognized his familiarity even in this state.

“y-you know my boyfriend?”

how endearing.

“sure. i know him pretty well,” suo smiles, hand coming to press against your lower back as you guides you forward, “so let’s find him, okay? come with me.”

KAJI REN.

“huh?” you’ve got kaji completely petrified, eyes blown open as his hands defensively shoot up in front of him the second you’re slowly waving your pepper spray back and forth— the pepper spray he had bought you, by the way. “what do you think you’re doing?”

“i’ll tell you exactly what im doing,” you retort, eyes narrowing at the alleged unfamiliar man in front of you, “i’m gonna call my boyfriend here, and he’s gonna beat your ass if you don’t leave in the next five seconds.”

ah. the slur in your voice is all it takes for the situation to suddenly click in his head. and now that he’s looking at you closer up, he’s surprised that you’re even able to stand in such a state. you’ve only come here with him, so the only way you’ll be going home is if he takes you home.

and that’s not looking very plausible right now.

he’s clicking his tongue before ripping through another lollipop, raking his fingers through his hair as he goes through the potential routes he can go with this. how the fuck was he gonna bring you home like this..? and actually, how would it make him look if people see him forcefully tossing you onto his back and booking it home?

this was a terrible situation through and through.

“um— come here,” he tries coaxing you the way he would with a stray animal, fingers coming to hesitantly pinch your sleeve to lift your arm without technically touching you, and he’s slowly moving it a couple inches to the right. “i’m your boyfriend. let’s go home.”

you shake your head.

his cheeks are flushing red when he realizes there are onlookers now, a handful of people watching the situation unfold, and you’re not helping his case at all— arms crossed across your chest as you eye him up and down suspiciously.

“c-candy,” he grumbles under his breath, deep red spreading to the tips of his ears. “i’ll give you a piece of candy if you come with me. sound good?”

TOGAME JO.

“m-my boyfriend can fight, you know” you stumble backwards, slowly backing up until your back meets with one of the tables, and it’s just great. you’re completely trapped now. he’s looming over you the next second, big hands resting on either side of you as you try to steady your breathing.

togame will be here any minute, you’re reminding yourself. this is fine.

“that so?” there’s a low chuckle from him, and he’s feigning innocence, looking around to locate this boyfriend of yours. “i don’t see him anywhere.”

your breath catches in your throat. your vision’s still dizzy, world spinning each and every time you move your head, and you search around your hips, internally cursing when you realize your purse is gone too.

no phone, and no boyfriend.

he’s moving awfully close to you now, and you can’t move— can’t call your boyfriend. “y-yeah,” you manage to stammer, thinking hard as you decide what to do. “he even taught me how to fight… so don’t test me.”

now that’s a bluff.

“oh. did he now?” togame’s brow raises at your threat, trying to resist the urge to laugh when you’re quickly nodding the next second, cute hands balling into little fists— and oh, that’s not quite how you’re supposed to do it.

but he’ll teach you another time. “so… in that case… you know what to do when a guy does— this?” his fingers wrap around your wrist before you can get a word out, pulling you forward in one swift movement.

you’re gasping as soon as you fall forward, crashing straight into his chest, and his arms are quick to wrap around you, big hand coming to pat at your head like a dog.

“oh, how weird. i didn’t think he’d teach you to hug other guys.”

UMEMIYA HAJIME. cw : he jokingly refers to himself as your kidnapper (he did not kidnap you)

“what now, haji?” your eyes narrow at the phone screen being shoved an inch in front of your face, and ume’s gone puppy mode beside you, excitedly rocking back and forth on your bed as he waits for you to hit play.

“just watch! you’ll see. press play.”

you rub at your eyes, wincing at the way your head starts to throb, still pounding from the events of yesterday. the video that plays out in front of you is completely dark for the first seconds, and you’re quick to grow impatient— seconds away from huffing and pushing his phone away until you finally hear a rustling, followed your own voice.

“haji’s gonna make you pay,” you cringe at the sound of your own voice, and there’s a loud sniffle that follows. “so take me wherever you want, ya goof. he’ll really make you regret it when he finds me.”

no way.

“‘haji’ huh!” you hear umemiya burst into a laughing fit, your face burning at the way he’s poking fun at your past self, and you hear your drunken self scoffing at him a second after. “so what kinda guy is he, huh? your kidnapper’s gotta know!”

there was absolutely no way he recorded himself carrying you home.

“he’s huuge,” the video catches your hiccup, “he can toss you around like nothing. i’m warning you now. so you can put me down if you get it.”

from the muffled sound of your voice, you think ume probably had you tossed over his shoulder, a strong arm wrapped around the back of your thighs to keep you draped over him. “that so?” he chuckles, “what’s he look like?”

“i can’t believe you,” you sigh, fingers rubbing at your temples, “you’re unbelievable.” you’re sneaking a quick glance at your boyfriend, but he’s still focused on the video, soft smile tugging at his lips. “keep listening, ‘kay baby? this is my favorite part.”

uh oh.

“he’s the prettiest boy ever!” your cheeks are immediately filling with heat at your shameless confession, hand slamming over your mouth— there was absolutely no way. “you wouldn’t believe it. you’ll know when you see ‘im. he’s gorgeous. beautiful. i looove him! don’t fall in love with my boyfriend— you better not. he’s mine.”

[rafesangelita]

♡ when rafe finally let’s his friend have a taste..

warnings: dealer!rafe, heavy teasing, both rafe and barry are bullies in this, threesome, oral (f. receiving), praise, groping

a/n: i know the celebration req says topper and barry, but i want to slowly start introducing barry to this blog so i excluded topper in this one.. don’t worry though, topper will be in another fic this week ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

“we won’t be here for long, alright? i don’t wanna hear you whining while i’m doing business, got it?” you hummed, rafe’s words going in through one ear and right out the other as you followed him up the steps to barry’s trailer. despite having been here plenty of times already, you couldn’t help but get shy and hold onto rafe’s arm whenever barry opened the door and flashed you a wink while giving you a full view of that gold-glinted smile of his as you brushed past him to get inside the cluttered living room. “lookin’ pretty as always..” he drawled, motioning for you to take a seat on the dingy sofa.

glancing at rafe, he gave you a nod before him and barry walked into the kitchen and started discussing their profits. you already knew the drill at this point; sit pretty and watch whatever old movie barry’s shitbox of a tv currently played until you grew bored and bothered rafe to take you home. losing count of the minutes you had been in the same spot, you sighed out loud in hopes of rafe hearing you. barry caught it first, his eyes flickering up to where you rested your cheek on the armrest of the couch. you looked heavenly just lying there, your babydoll dress fanning out around your thighs.

“i think someone’s ready to go home.” he laughed, drawing rafe’s attention away from the scale in front of him. “ignore her, she’s only going to keep on with her shit—” rafe didn’t even get to finish his sentence before he felt the sheer material of your dress brush against his arm. “can i sit here, please?” he hated how sweet you sounded asking him, an annoyed huff leaving his lips as he hastily brought you down onto his lap. “don’t go touching nothing.” he scolded just as you had reached for the journal they were doing their math and inventory in.

barry snorted, shaking his head as you retracted your hand, pursing your lips together before leaning back against rafe’s chest. sitting on the couch wasn’t any different, considering rafe still acted like you weren’t in the same room with him while you fiddled with a loose thread on the collar of his shirt. you only took five minutes of his negligence before wrapping your arms around his neck, whispering a small ‘please touch me, ray..’ as barry’s heated gaze raked down your figure. “what did i tell you?” rafe said through gritted teeth, shrugging you off of him.

“you see what i have to deal with all fucking day? she could never keep her hands to herself.” rafe cursed. barry laughed, both of them finding amusement in your needy tendencies. you shrunk in on yourself, feeling your cheeks heat as they continued teasing you, each insult topping the other until you couldn’t take it anymore, your eyes brimming with tears as you got up and ran away to barry’s room in the back. “aww, where are you going?!” rafe called out, rolling his eyes as you shouted back at him. “leave me alone!” you plopped down on the mattress, bringing your knees up to your chest.

barry cleared his throat as their laughter eventually died down, both of them sitting in silence with nothing but your sniffling sounding from the other room. rafe sighed, now feeling a little bit bad for making you cry. “what do you say we give her all the attention we could spare right now?” at this, barry’s head shot up in his direction. “we?” he repeated, his eyebrows pinching together in confusion. with a curt nod, rafe leaned forward. “you’re always saying how bad you wanna know how she tastes like, right?” barry waited for the man in front of him to say he was kidding but it never came.

“let’s go make her feel better.”

the last thing you expected was barry and rafe to walk into the room, both of them circling you as if you were caught prey. within minutes, rafe had you seated between his legs, your back resting against his chest as barry looked up at you from your inner thighs. “look at him, baby, he’s wanted to do this to you for so long..” rafe whispered, hiking your dress up around your hips so barry could get a clear view of your bare cunt. you swallowed nervously, having never been touched by anyone else except rafe. “don’t be scared, sweetheart, i’ll take such good care of you.” barry pressed a soft kiss to your folds before locking your thighs in over his shoulders.

rafe watched his business partner carefully, his cock growing hard at the sight. finally running his tongue up and down your slit, you gasped when you felt barry flick the muscle over your sensitive bud. “shit—” he laughed, his stubble tickling your skin, “you taste so fucking sweet, doll, me and your boyfriend here might have to fight over you.” rafe smiled before cupping your tits through your lacey bra, a small sting of pain making you whine as he roughly groped the flesh. “nah, we won’t have to fight. she can take us both.” you moaned, your hips instinctively moving away from barry’s mouth.

“don’t try to run from this, sheep, i’m gonna have you screaming for more in no time.” you squirmed, hiding your face in rafe’s shirt as barry worked skillful circles around your clit. squeezing your cheeks together, rafe forced you to look down as barry continued making you whimper. you felt yourself wanting to reach down and pull barry’s hair, the pure unadulterated pleasure making you dig your nails into your skin. barry saw you making crescents in your flesh from how hard you were clawing at yourself, his hands coming up to place yours on his head. “you could pull, ‘pretty, you won’t hurt me.”

threading your fingers through his hair, you let out a cry once he slipped his tongue inside your entrance, the tip of his nose nudging against your clit. rafe rolled your nipples between his fingers, his jaw falling slack as you trembled from barry’s ministrations. “i want you to cum and think about us sharing you,” rafe groaned, “..think about us both filling you up.” you breathed in, feeling yourself fall over the edge as rafe praised you for being so good for them. you nearly shrieked when the band in your tummy snapped and barry did nothing to slow down on your poor cunt.

“bear!” you squealed, pulling his head away before overstimulation can set in. looking down at him did nothing but turn you on even more, the sight of the pussy drunk expression on his face making you whine. barry couldn’t get enough, and now that he had a taste of you, there was no going back. rafe shifted his weight behind you, his cock poking your back as you leaned against him in defeat. “why don’t you return the favor, baby? you suck him off while i pound you in for whining when i told you not to.”

thank you nonnie for celebrating with me ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[what-even-is-thiss]

Have you never spent a lot of time around cats but want to be friends with one? Some cat communication basics. Because I feel like it.

A cat approaching you doesn’t necessarily mean they want pets. They may just be inspecting you or hanging out.

If you want to pet a cat you need to ask permission first. The way you do this is you offer a finger or the back of your hand for them to smell. If the cat wants to be pet they’ll generally push their face or head and neck into your hand. If they don’t want to be pet they’ll generally walk away or just sit down.

Cats will usually ask for pets by rubbing up against you or possibly standing at your feet and meowing. When you think a cat is asking for pets hold your hand out and see if they rub up against you. That means they want pets. If they start walking away with purpose instead that means they want to show you something. If they meander off that just means they’re hanging out. No pets needed.

If a cat likes the way you’re petting them they’ll probably lean into it. If they like it a lot and you stop they might try to pull you back over with a paw. They might also squint close their eyes. If they don’t like it they’ll lean away or swipe at you a bit or show their teeth if they really don’t like it.

When they’re done being pet or sitting in your lap they’ll probably just peacefully walk away. This is good. They trust you but they’re done hanging out now. If their ears flatten or they start bristling and hissing you’ve done something very wrong or they’re afraid of you and it’s probably best to leave them be.

A relaxed cat’s ears usually point forward and are upright. If their ears flatten or point back they’re angry or scared and they’re serious.

Cats can purr for any number of reasons. If they’re sitting on your lap with completely relaxed posture (in a loaf with tail curled up, eyes happily squinted closed, maybe actively looking for pets from you and giving little cat hugs in the form of rubbing their face on you) that’s probably a sign of contentment. They can also purr to calm themselves down or try to heal themselves or others. Purring is one of those things that needs the surrounding context to be understood.

When a cat shows their stomach they’re comfortable around you but not looking for pets. Most cats don’t like belly scratches. Some do, but if you try to scratch a cat’s belly and they start acting angry it’s because from their perspective you’re the one violating personal boundaries here.

If a cat doesn’t like being picked up they’ll probably start struggling. If they’re very stressed out they may get violent but if they know you that probably won’t be their first choice unless said cat has a short temper. If the cat is neutral to happy about being held they probably won’t do anything at all. You can carefully drop cats when you’re done holding them. In fact they may prefer that to being carefully set down depending on the cat. Angle them down just a little when you drop them so they can land on their front paws first. This also gives them a bit of warning that they’re about to be dropped.

Most cats won’t lick you but if they do they’re trying to groom you. This means they see you as part of the family. This is fine. A bit weird but they’re trying to help.

If you try to act like you’re small and out of the way and avoid eye contact with a cat, the cat will see this as an invitation to hang out. This is why if you don’t understand or like cats and try to avoid them at parties or at friends houses they might try to hang out with you a lot. Lots of eye contact and making a lot of noise and making yourself bigger is the way to scare a cat off. Slow blinking and not acting excited is an open invitation.

Some cats have been trained a little bit by their owners. They aren’t obedient 100% of the time like dogs but they can be trained to know what some things mean and get accustomed to certain situations. Cats can be trained to like a certain noise like kissy noises or tongue clicking by making those noises when you feed or pet them when they’re young. It can also be demonstrated to them that patting the couch or other surface next to you is an invitation to come over. These are the most common things most house cats that grew up with humans know about. You can also ask their owner if there’s a noise they come to but if you don’t know, kissy noises, tongue clicking, or the cat’s name or saying something like “here kitty kitty” are the most common things a cat might understand as a request to come over.

When playing with a cat, moving your hand around on the ground for them to pounce on, waving a feather toy around, rolling a ball towards them, etc. they generally won’t use their claws. If they want to play they’ll start playing. This can look like their eyes going wide and them paying attention to the plaything, doing the prey butt wiggle, and swiping at the toy. If they don’t want to play they usually just won’t react to what you’re doing or watch you with disinterest and neutral eyes.

[sweet1delusi0ns]

Playing with naruto boys hair ──☆*:・ﾟ

Slightly suggestive (kankuro ofc)

Characters: Naruto🦊,sasuke🗡️,Itachi🥀, kakashi🍃, kiba🐺, shikamaru🀄️,shino🪲,neji🎋,Lee🥋,choji🍥,gaara⏳,kankuro🪆

Naruto🦊-*

He loves attention so honesty he is down for anything. Weither your petting his head or braiding it he will always rub into your hand like a little puppy😭 he doesn’t beg for you to play with his hair but he never refuses the offer~

You were braiding his hair while he slowly fell asleep, thinking he was already asleep you started to talk to yourself “ ugh your so cute with your fluffy hair” you whisper “tsk, and you think it makes you look like a hedgehog, a cute hedgehog if anything~” then you can hear him giggle and turn a soft pink “oh my god your awake?!” “Hehehehe…yeahhh” “thanks y/n~”

Sasuke🗡️-*

He thinks he’s so tough and mostly it is but when he gets all soft with you late at night all he wants is to cuddle and for you to play with his hair. He just lays on your chest and when you don’t start playing with his hair he will clear his throat in a very dramatic way!

“AEhemHHHH” “…yes?” “Well? Arent you going to…?” “Huh?” “Play with my hair y/n!!!” “Ohhhhh! I knew that I just wanted to hear you say it~” “Y/N!” You giggle at his neediness 

Itachi🥀-*

Straight forward, to the point, just “play with my hair.” And that’s it. He can be very timid but most of the time he’s not ashamed to ask for things!

“Y/n? My darling?” “Yes?” He sits down infront of you “can you play with my hair?” You reach down and kiss his hair softly “of course!” And you drag your fingers through his soft hair you ask “anything else baby?” He whimpers softly at the head massage “I love you y/n…” you giggle “I love you too!”

Kakashi🍃-*

Every time you see his hair down it’s just an urge to go up to him a play with it, it looks so soft honestly! You never have before but one day after he takes a nice shower and walk out with his hair down and freshly dried you just had to ask!

“Why are You staring at me y/n? You think I’m that handsome?~” he teases “well you are handsome but I’m just looking at your hair” “ah why?” “It looks so soft!” “Oh!…want to touch it?” He walks over to you bowing his head in front of you while giving you cute puppy eyes. You reach for a strand of his hair and just as you thought it was soft as silk! “Oh my god what conditioner do you use babe?” He giggles while sitting down next to you, not moving his head away from your loving hand. You sat there playing with his hair for hours!

Kiba🐺-*

He always sees how excited akamaru gets when you pet him so he kinda wondered what if felt like, but he didn’t want to be weird so he didn’t know how to ask. So he didn’t ask!

“What’s up kibaa?” “Hey y/n!!” He lays down on your lap which he does often but this time he did something different “can I have your hand y/n?” “Of course puppy!” He grabs your hand and immediately places it on his head waiting for you to get the hint. “Uh? Heh what are you doing…OHHHHH you want me to play with your hairrr how cutee!!” “Shut up y/n!!! Gosh cant a guy get some pets without being teased.” You laugh at his response. But you gladly gave him all the pets he wanted! (Akamaru was jealous)

Shikamaru🀄️-*

Similar to kakashi, you rarely see his hair down so once you saw him relaxing in bed with his hair down you couldn’t resist

You crawl in bed with him which Suprisingly he didn’t realize, but once you started playing with the ends of his hair he opened his eyes to look at you “uh, what are you doing dear?” “Playing with your hair” “w-why?” “Because I Love You?” “Hm, Ok……can you brush it out while your at it? It’ll get frizzy and I’m to lazy to deal with it” “of course! But only if you don’t whine about it” “be gentle and I won’t whine!” He closes his eyes waiting to feel the brush softly dragging through his hair (for now on he always asks you to brush his hair)

Shino🪲-*

He doesn’t mind what you do to him as long as your happy! I feel like his hair gets frizzy in humidity and your happy to take care of it, kind of like shika. Except he asks you to help not because of the frizz he just secretly likes your hands on his hair

He walks up to you after a fresh shower and hands you a comb, detangle stray and a normal brush. You look up at him a little lost just to see his hair poofy and slightly curled “…do you want me to do your hair?” “Yes I don’t know how” (he does he just wants you to do it) “hm Finee, cmon sit in front of me” you took very nice care of his hair which he appreciated so much. Now most of the time when you play with his hair it just turns into you playing salon with him (LOL)

Neji🎋-*

I’ve said it before he loves it when you play with his hair but he will never ask. Normally he just sits next to you and play with his own hair until you do it for him. He thinks he’s so sneaky when he does it but in reality it’s so obvious he wants your attention

He’s currently braiding the ends of his hair which he never does so you knew what he wanted already “neji what are you doing sweetheart?” “Just braiding my hair” He looks up at you with a small smirk hoping you caught on “oh ok!…may I help?” “YES” “…” “uhm I mean…sure!” He’s not smooth at all but let’s just pretend he is- he just lays on his stomach and let’s you do whatever you want to his long hair. You can put it up in a bun or maybe a ponytail, whatever you pick he just likes the attention!

Lee🥋-*

He also LOVESSSS attention, love and care no matter what! He would just jump onto you and beg for you to pet him! Which you always do, especially after a long day he lovesss ittt

“Y/n-Chan! Please! I would do anything just for you to play with my hair!” You look at him for a while just to soak in his pouty lips and puppy dog eyes, but you took to long to respond so he took it as a no apparently. “PLEASE,PLEASE,PLEASE,PLEASE,PLE-” “YES LEE OK!!” “YAY!” He tucks his head into your hand so you could hold onto his face while playing with his hair, also so he can stare at your beautiful face with love in his eyes

Choji🍥-*

Now this boy has a lot of hair, it’s a like a blanket! So sometimes you just cling to his back and bury your head into his fluffy hair. Other than cuddling into his hair you also love playing with it. One time you put them into two pig tails and he looks ADORABLE! He didn’t take them out the whole day

“Your sooooo CUTEEE AHHH” He is currently twirling his hair which you put into a cute ponytail “ya think so y/n?” “Mhm!! But let’s try something elsee” you take the band holding his hair up out gently as to not put any hair out, then you dragged both hands from his scalp all the way down his hair which made him shiver. You grabbed two pieces of his hair from the front of his head to put them into two buns. After that you took a look at his cute face. “Oh my gosh you look like a cute little bear!” “Ha little?” “Yeah your just a silly little guy!” Which made him blush. He loves moments like this

Gaara⏳-*

He is very timid with any new form of physical affection so when you suggested playing with his hair he was a little shy but also confused, why does she want to touch my hair? Is it because it’s red? He didn’t understand but was willing

“I’m ok with you touching my hair I’m just wondering why?” You smile at his curiosity “it’ll feel good sweetheart, I’ll give you a nice head massage~” he likes massages so that comforted him a little. Once you made contact with his hair he felt a little less anxious. “Feel good?” His eyes softened while he turned drowsy “yes…thank you” he fell asleep not to far into the massage, but now you know any time he has trouble sleeping you could put him to sleep by playing with his hair

Kankuro🪆-*

I’ve said before he LOVES his hair, you rarely get to touch is. But he will let you touch it if you pull it play with it which he does like but never admits it

“Why would I let your touch my glorious hair!” “You let me pull it last night?” “SHUP UP?!” Teasing him is always fun so you get a laugh out of it, but you do really want to play with his hair “no serious let me play with it! I promise you’ll love ittt~” “Ughhhh fineeeee” he mumbled while he sits on his knees infront of you. Once you actually started playing with it He visibly relaxed “told you you’d love ittt” “I don’t love it! I just…yeah fine you win I love it”

[99woez]

don't talk about it ᰔᩚ j.sc

warnings. smut, best friend!sungchan, roommate!sungchan, arguing, it's a dumb argument but you are fighting this man, physical fighting, just shoving nothing crazy but a physical altercation starts this all, unprotected sex, hair pulling, some angst? idk if i missed something let me know! i also did not proofread this because i got out 5k words in one night which is crazy for me. anyways, enjoy!

wc. 5k

summary. your best friend embarrasses you in front of your campus crush. so, of course, you decide to fight with him in the living room and learn some interesting things about him in the process.

Sungchan had always been stupidly large, in your opinion.

He was so large that you couldn’t resist the urge to playfully test his strength, curious to see how his fit frame would react to your playful jabs or if he would sway with a gentle nudge. He would playfully push you back, never with full force, but these light-hearted scuffles became a regular part of your friendship. It was a source of joy, a shared silliness, it meant everything.

Except for the times it did.

“You’re so stupid sometimes, oh my god!” You shouted at your so-called “best friend,” shoving hard into his chest. This shove wasn’t like the ones you usually gave him. This one was harsh and mean. There was not a semblance of anything alluding to happiness on your face as you looked up at Sungchan with knitted brows and parted lips, shoving hard into his firm chest once again, this time with a shout of frustration.

If we’re being honest, you two have been drinking. It’s not like you’re shitfaced and neither is he, but the alcohol is just enough to make the world blurry at the edges and your words harsher than you typically allow them to be. His chest, solid as a boulder beneath your pushing palms, doesn't yield like it usually would during your fond roughhousing. He stands firm, his expression teetering between annoyance and worry.

"Stop it," he gruffly says, grabbing your wrists mid-shove. Just like that, the playful laughter that usually echoes between you two gets choked in the tension-filled silence. You try to yank your hands-free, but his grip is firm yet gentle. He was never rough with you, even when the fights turned serious like this. It was a rarity for things to turn nasty, but sometimes Sungchan was so oblivious you couldn’t stop yourself from lashing out at him, especially with a few mixed drinks in your system.

“Let go,” You snapped. Sungchan leans in with a tilt of his head, letting out a “Hm?” as he does so, challenging you.

“Chill out first.” That did the exact opposite of chill you out. You hated it when he took that tone of voice with you, as if you were some child that needed to be put into a timeout. 

There were many things you loved about Sungchan: His kindness, his dedication to anything he sets his mind to, his eyes, you loved a lot about Sungchan, but there were many things you couldn’t stand about him. He was oblivious to the simplest of social cues, he got loud when he was drunk, and the way he comforted people was an absolute joke. If you hadn’t known him for more than half your life and shared an apartment with him, you would’ve ditched him when you two graduated high school.

But you didn’t. Now, you’re stuck with a big, dumb roommate who loves telling the men you like that you like them. God, Wonbin was never going to talk to you again after the scene Sungchan caused trying to get him to give you his number. You still can feel the embarrassment hot in your veins, making you lurch forward and finally give his chest a shove that makes him stumble a few steps.

“I won’t chill out! I won’t! What you did was fucking rude!” You yelled, pointing a finger in his face to punctuate your words and get your point across. Sungchan scoffed, turning his head away from you, but you could see his tongue press against the inside of his cheek, making the skin push out slightly. It was a habit of his you had noticed when you two went to parties together in college. It’s what he does when he’s annoyed and holding himself back, beating someone’s ass. It’s a rare occasion for Sungchan to beat someone’s ass, but when it did happen, it was always deserved. Typically, it would be a drunk guy who wanted to buck up to the biggest guy at the party, a one-sided battle of masculinity that Sungchan always won, no matter who came up to him. You’ve only seen Sungchan throw a punch twice in your entire friendship.

Once, when you were in high school, and the last time was at a party during your junior year of college when a man put his hands on you despite you telling him to fuck off. The other times, he had simply told you about when you’d see him in the kitchen with littered bruises on his body. You think about that night more often than you’d like to admit. Sungchan didn’t hesitate to throw a punch for you, knocking the man clean out by the time he was done with him. It lit a fire in you that you’re not proud to admit. There was just something in his eyes that rubbed your brain right. You would never admit it, but were desperate to see that look again. You wanted to see him angry, to watch him lose control no matter how fucked up it sounds.

“Get your hand out of my face,” Sungchan told you firmly, looking you in the eyes to get his point across, but you weren’t deterred. You step closer to him, finger still in his face.

“No. Not until you apologize. Admit it was rude. You were rude.”

“I wasn’t fucking rude,” Sungchan argues, swatting your hand down when you don’t move it from his face. You bring it back up without a care of the consequences, resulting in a game of him swatting your hand down every time you bring it up.

You two look stupid. Thank God this is in the privacy of your living room.

“You had no right-”

“You were never going to talk to him if I didn’t! You’re a chicken-”

“I’m not a fucking chicken––Oh my god, don’t call me a bird.”

“You’re such a fucking chicken, dude. Do you remember how long it took you to even talk to Shotaro? Months. ‘Took you months to even say hi to him, and that’s because-”

“Shut up.”

“That’s because I had to step it! I was the one to get you to talk to him!” Sungchan continued with a shit-eating grin, voice picking up volume as he leaned down to get closer to you as if you couldn’t hear him clear enough, pointing to himself like he had won some kind of award. Your already flushed cheeks begin to heat up when you remember the Shotaro incident of 2022. He always brought up Shotaro, and even if it was just to pick on you playfully, it still struck a nerve. You were more shy than Sungchan ever was, always letting him start the conversations or introduce you to new people. Half of your friends are Sungchan’s friends; half of the people you’ve dated are because Sungchan knew them first. Every connection in your life could be traced back to Sungchan, which drove you insane.

“Now, you want to talk all this shit because you got embarrassed I had to step in again and help you get some dick,” Sungchan pressed, his grin turning into a smirk as he nodded at his words, feeling them in his being because they’re true. You stared at him with contempt, teeth grinding as your fists balled up tightly. “You should be thanking me. You’re so ungrateful for everything-”

You lunged at him. You swear you don’t have control of your body when you do it, you just throw your entire weight into his chest and hope for the best. Sungchan let out an “Oof!” sound when you collided with him, staggering back and hitting the ground with you on top of him. You act as if you two are playfully wrestling, but none of your movements have an ounce of playfulness in them. You straddled his hips firmly as you shoved at his hands harshly to get them away from grabbing you. You knew once he got his hands on you, it was over. He’d flip you two over, and it’d be done. You couldn’t let him win this. You couldn’t do it. You had to prove it to him.

You don’t know what it was, but you had to prove it.

You grab his hair tightly, jerking his head off the carpet to distract him, tugging hard on the brown locks. Sungchan lets out a yelp that sounds pathetic. His eyes squeezed shut as his large hands wrapped around your wrist to try and pull you off of him.

“Not fair-” He started. You shake his head, eliciting another yelp from him.

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up,” You spat at him, shaking him again. His face contorted in pain and confusion, groaning softly as he did what you told him for once. You couldn’t believe he actually listened. Truthfully, you didn’t think you’d get this far. You’re not exactly sure what to do next. So, you shake his head again, making him hiss when you tugged harder on his locks. “Can’t fucking stand you, you know that? You’re such a jerk sometimes. Just big, stupid, and taking up space.” You shake his head around with every word, watching him drop his hands and put them up in front of him in faux surrender, but he doesn’t say anything. He only whined and grunted when you pulled on his hair harder than usual.

You waited for him to spit something back at you, to call you a coward, to say you needed him, but nothing but pants left his plush lips. You furrow your brows in confusion at his silence. Sungchan was never quiet. You shake him again.

“Hello? Say something!” You shake his head again, this time back and forth. You won’t lie. It was fun to have him like this. He acted like some kind of puppet that you were the master of, pulling him around in whichever direction you wanted him to go in, and he just took it. Sungchan sighed in defeat, keeping his eyes shut tightly.

“My dick just twitched.” 

Oh.

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t think of anything else to say. Your hands, which had been roughly pulling at Sungchan's hair, suddenly freeze. Your heart pounds in your chest as you gaze down at him, cocking a brow at him. His face is flushed a deep crimson, though whether from embarrassment or something else, you can't tell.

"I said," he starts again, much slower this time, swallowing hard, "My... my dick just twitched."

You blink at his repeated confession, not expecting him to repeat the words. There’s a tension growing between the two of you that you’ve never felt before, making your throat dry as you stare at Sungchan’s embarrassed face, watching his chest rise and fall as he pants beneath you. Flashes of what he’d look like without his shirt flash in your brain, wondering what sounds he’d make as you sink down on him, how his eyes would look, how the muscles would ripple under his––Jesus Christ, get it together, girl. You remind yourself, clearing your throat down at him.

“Like…Seriously?” Sungchan nods at your dry words, opening his eyes slowly to look up at you. A switch in your brain is flipped when you see his big brown eyes. He looks utterly pathetic like this, hair in your hand revealing his forehead, eyes pleading for something silent, and lips in a perfect soft pout. You wanted to take his picture like the actual definition of pitiful.

You chuckle at him, shaking him again and tugging his hair hard to see if it really did anything for him. He whines again, shutting his eyes as his hands lurch towards your hips, holding tightly with a sharp breath through his teeth. You smirk at his reaction, raising your brows in slight shock it was this easy to get him going. Maybe it was the alcohol, you think. You’ve seen Sungchan shove his tongue down girls’ throats just mere minutes after he met them, but this is you. You’re his best friend, his roommate, the girl who beat his ass for talking to her crush for her. You know you’re pretty, and Sungchan is just a man, but you’re still caught off guard by it all.

Your palm still cradled his scalp, thumb lazily tracing small circles at the base of his hairline. Sungchan’s hands on your hips squeeze gently, fingers digging into your flesh just a bit more than necessary and causing a shiver to wind its way up your spine.

Without thinking, you leaned forward and claimed Sungchan's lips in a rough, desperate kiss. His taste was different than any guy you've ever kissed - salty with a hint of beer and lime from the drink he had tonight. You wrapped your hand tightly around the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you as your other hand found its way under his shirt to feel his warm skin. You didn't let up when he moaned into your mouth, feeling your touch while he tentatively kissed you back. Your anger turned into desperation quickly as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, tasting him fully now. His lips were soft and plush against yours as they parted slightly to let you in further. You moaned the moment your tongues slid together, digging your nails into his toned chest as he pressed in further, sucking softly on the slick muscle in your mouth.

Sungchan's hands moved up your body, gripping your waist and still pulling you closer. The fabric of your shirt scratching against his rough palms made you shiver with anticipation for more contact. You grind down on him out of instinct, feeling the bulge in his pants grow as he groans against your mouth, wanting more from both of you. His scent filled your senses - a mix of sweat and cologne and something uniquely Sungchan that made you want more.

The sound of his rhythmic grunts filled the room, a mix of desire and surprise in every breath he took. His fingers dug into your skin through your shirt, and you moaned into his mouth once more. Your breath hitched when he bit down on your lower lip gently, making you gasp and whimper into the kiss before breaking it, desperate for air. You gasp softly when you part, watching with hazy eyes as he pants as well, lips slick with spit and typically wide eyes heavy with lust.

You tug at his shirt, nodding before he has any time to say something that will kill the mood.

“Take it off.”

And he listens like a dog, pushing himself up and pulling his white T-shirt over his head, tossing it aside before wrapping his arms around your torso and pulling you flush against him. There are no thoughts in your head right now, only Sungchan, touching Sungchan, kissing Sungchan, fucking Sungchan––Holy shit, you were totally going to fuck Sungchan. That hits you harder than you thought it would. You’ve thought about it before. How could you not? He’s beautiful, kind, and built like a God. Of course, you thought about fucking Sungchan. It was nothing like this, however. Typically, you thought of him having your face pressed into the mattress, back arched, and fucking you from behind like he was getting paid. You would’ve never guessed you’d be on top, but it’s not like you can’t get into it for Sungchan. You’d do anything for Sungchan.

"Are you sure?" Sungchan whispers against the skin of your neck, his hands finding your hips again to steady you against him, his bare chest warm and firm. You're taken aback for a moment, not expecting the question. But then you realize that he’s always been considerate, even when he’s on the verge of losing control.

"Yeah," you say firmly, the word slipping out without thought and causing heat to flare in Sungchan's eyes.

Without hesitation, you reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head swiftly. The cool air hits your skin, making goosebumps spread across your chest and arms. Sungchan's eyes widen as he takes you in, his gaze making you feel exposed and powerful. You struggle to pull your jeans off, having to crawl off of him to kick them off in haste. You hate how desperate you look but can’t bring yourself to care. Sungchan rolls on his side when you crawl off of him, lingering towards you like a lost puppy. His eyes watch as more of your skin is revealed to him, letting out a groan when he sees the smooth skin of your thighs.

Before you have the chance to climb back on top of him, he leans in, kissing the side of your thigh with a moan. You let out a gasp in shock but watched him with parted lips, threading your hands through his hair again as he dragged his lips all over the expanse of your thigh, leaving a trail of glistening spit as he did. He grabs your ankle, pulling you towards him roughly, making you fall back onto the carpet with another gasp. You don’t argue for once; you are too invested in what Sungchan will do next, even if you care.

His lips pepper kisses across the inside of your thighs, nipping at the sensitive skin with deep breaths as he inched closer and closer to your core.

He licks his lips as he hooks a long finger in your underwear, pulling them to the side. A moan leaves his lips when he sees your pussy for the first time, looking down at it like he’s looking at a coveted piece of art. You watch him closely, ears turning pink as he lifts two fingers to his lips, licking the tips of them before bringing them down between your legs to rub circles into your clit. His gaze stays on your cunt, watching how the pretty pink flesh moves beneath his fingers, biting his bottom lip when he hears you let out a whine, seeing your thighs tremble at just the slightest touch. Finally, his dark gaze lifts to meet yours.

With his eyes trained on yours, he presses a long finger inside you. A sigh leaves your lips as your eyes flutter shut, gripping the carpet with one hand while the other dug into your side, biting your bottom lip as he pressed another finger inside. You moan this time, feeling your walls begin to stretch for him. You hear him groan quietly, making your eyes open. You’re immediately met with his gaze that never left your face. He looks like he’s in a trance, staring at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You can’t tell how it makes you feel, but you feel hot, like you’re boiling from the inside out. It aches, but it’s so intoxicating that you want more of it.

You whimper at how his fingers slickly slide out, then back in, watching him get lost in the sight of your reactions. You’re so wet for him. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you got so quickly. You swallow thickly as your chest rises and falls with each pant. His eyes stay on your face as his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing slow circles that make you shiver with a choked-out moan. His free hand cups your jaw, tilting your head back slightly, forcing your lips apart to look deeply into your eyes as he watches you crumble under him.

Feeling emboldened, Sungchan takes his fingers out of you slowly, letting out a long moan when they leave you empty. He lays a line of sweet pecks against your inner thighs, leaving tiny bites and nips on the soft flesh until he reaches the hem of his boxers. With a breathy "Fuck," he tugs them down enough to reveal his hard cock pressing against the fabric. You gulp as it springs from its confines, averting your eyes momentarily before snapping them back up to challenge his gaze. His thick length twitches with anticipation before he guides it towards you, slick with pre-cum leaking from the tip. Your heart stops for a beat before racing wildly in your chest again.

"Wrap your legs around me," Sungchan orders softly, not breaking eye contact even when you hesitate for a second before obeying. He grunts when he feels your folds pressing against his cock, pushing inside without a moment’s hesitation. He slides in so easily, groaning at how smooth the glide inside you is. He sounds as beautiful as he looks, making you moan as well. The way his cock splits your walls apart for him is delicious, to say the least, as a euphoria fills your veins as your walls spasm around him with another moan, this one airier than the one before.

“Fuck,” Sungchan curses, fingers digging into the carpet next to your head as he looks down at where your bodies were connected before back at your face. You two lock eyes again, making your heart hammer in your chest harder than before. Still, you meet his gaze with a quiet whimper, hands wrapping around his strong biceps as you bat your lashes at him.

“Feels good, Sungie?” You ask in a too-sweet voice. You rarely whip out for him unless you ask for a favor, like getting something off the top shelf or making him finish your short answer response questions because you don’t want to. Sungchan would do anything for you, and you’d do anything for Sungchan. He takes a deep breath at your tone, lips curling into a smirk before he bites his bottom lip, nodding.

Then, his hips roll into yours.

Sungchan's thick cock feels even better than you could have ever imagined, stretching you wide and fulfilling you completely. His hips roll into yours slowly, making you moan and whine beneath him with each gentle thrust. The way he fills you up is mind-numbing, his smirk turning into a grimace as he leans down to capture your lips in a rough kiss.

Your walls clamp down on him at the contact, purposely trying to get more friction between the two of you. Sungchan groans against your lips, slipping his hands under your back and lifting you up onto his lap effortlessly. You gasp into his mouth, feeling his hard chest pressed against yours. Your heart pounds in your chest as he starts to fuck you properly now, eyes closing at the sensation that washes over you. You swear you can feel his heartbeat against your chest, but you convince yourself you’re just dreaming it.

You feel every inch of him inside of you, making your walls tighten around him with every snap of his hips into yours. A tiny sob leaves your lips when he hits that spot inside you that has you seeing stars. You dig your nails into the flesh of his shoulders, jaw-dropping and eyes rolling back at how your body moves like a rag doll and at how sharply his hips snap up into you. He groans into your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin before sucking softly to soothe it with his tongue. You can't help but shudder in his lap; this feels so good that it hurts. His hands hold you in place, one on your waist and the other cradling the back of your head as he takes rough control of the kiss again, teeth scraping against soft skin with every thrust. He pants against your lips, moaning your name softly and how good you make him feel. It's all too much for you; all too real with Sungchan, yet so not real. You’re fucking your roommate on your living room floor––You’re fucking your best friend on your living room floor.

Your hands find their way into his hair again, holding onto him tightly as he continues to fuck into you like your his, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck and over your collarbone. You mewl at the feeling, arching your back into his chest as he hits that sweet spot inside you once more. You could feel the warmth spreading through your veins, making you dizzy with need. The room spins around you as he thrusts harder, faster, deeper into your already aching pussy. His moans mix with yours, their tongues meeting in a messy kiss that speaks volumes about how much you both want this.

Your legs quiver as he takes control of the situation, fingers digging into your skin softly before trailing up to caress your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra. You let out a strangled cry when he pinches at one of your nipples roughly, making you moan into his mouth even more, looking down to watch him work with a breath through your teeth. Your hands' card through the hair on the back of his head, eyes shutting to focus solely on the pleasure coursing through your veins with every drag of Sungchan’s cock against your walls.

"Sun-Sungchan," you whimper. The sound of his name on your lips is like music to his ears. Your body is sweaty and flushed, a beautiful sight for him to feast his eyes upon. He growls lowly when he finally meets your gaze again, heat pooling in your lower belly at the raw desire he displays.

“You’re so fucking good, baby. ‘Should’ve fucked you soon, hm?” Sungchan groans, his voice creased with effort as he continues to pound into you. You can’t help but respond with a needy whimper, skin burning under his touch as you nod your head dumbly. You feel him everywhere, and it's overwhelming - the way he’s stretched you wide open, the way he feels pushing deep inside of you, the way his hands are holding you in place as if afraid that you'll slip away from underneath him.

Your heart beats furiously against your chest, matching rhythm with the throbbing ache between your legs. You're close, too close, but not quite there yet. Sungchan seems to sense your growing desperation, the flash of triumph in his eyes telling you he knows exactly what he's doing to you. He reaches down and begins rubbing slow circles on your clit again, thumb pressing against the sensitive nub just enough to make you cry out in pleasure.

“You gonna cum for me?” He whispers against your throat, teeth dipping into your soft flesh, causing a sharp gasp from your lips. You nod frantically in response, words failing you as white-hot pleasure courses through your veins. He laughs softly - a dark chuckle that sends shivers down your spine.

The way you melt against him is intoxicating. He grunts, unable to think straight as he feels his own orgasm building up. His hips move even faster, his cock sliding in and out of your welcoming heat with each thrust. He groans against your skin, panting heavily as he fucks you like it’s his last dying will, wet sounds filling the room that mixes with your pants and moans. You squeeze your eyes shut at the sounds you’re making, cheeks growing more read because of it. Sex is so embarrassing sometimes.

He pulls away from your neck just a little to look into your eyes, panting heavily as they roll back in pleasure. Sungchan's lips curl into a smirk at seeing how lost you get. Your walls tighten around his cock once again as you cum around him, making Sungchan's eyes roll back into his head and tilt his head back with a melodic groan that has you moaning as well. You feel him tremble beneath you as he finally cums inside of you, making you smirk softly as your hands run up and down his back.

You throw your head back and cry out his name, orgasm hitting you hard and fast like a freight train. He watches as you finally hit your peak, jaw-dropping at how gorgeous you look when you feel good. Your walls clamp down around him, and your muscles spasm in ecstasy; even through the haze of pleasure, you feel every drop of his cum spilling into you, the heat of it searing into your core. Your body convulses and shivers under the onslaught of pleasure, your voice breaking on Sungchan's name. 

Sungchan stays still for a moment longer, his cock still buried deep inside of you. His chest heaves against yours, ragged gasps filling the space between your sated bodies. He blinks slowly, his gaze holding yours captive as he pants out your name. You take his face into his hands with a deep breath, leaning in and kissing his lips without a second though. He moans into the kiss, holding your wrists gently as he does so.

You both stay like that for a while. Bodies joined together in the aftermath of your shared orgasm. The only sounds in the room are your gasping breaths and the rapid beat of your heart pounding in sync. Cautiously, Sungchan pulls out of you gently, making your pussy squeeze around nothing instinctively at the loss, a soft whimper leaving your lips.

He rolls off to one side, pulling you with him so that you're tucked against his side. His arm wraps around you and keeps you close to him, fingers dancing along your sweaty skin lightly. Neither of you speak for long moments, too wrapped up in trying to regain control of your breathing and coming down from your highs even to fathom thinking of words right now.

Eventually, though, Sungchan breaks the silence with a soft whisper, "You okay?"

Your lips twitch into a tired smile against his chest, pressing a small kiss there before nodding. "Yeah," you huff out after a moment, "That was…"

"Crazy," he finishes for you, making you shut your eyes with a laugh, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah…That was crazy,” You whisper, moving your head to rest on his chest to soak up more of his warmth. Your cheek squishes against his chest as you lay there, looking down at his spent cock resting against his thigh. It hits you that you’re both naked and just had sex on your living room floor. This calls for a conversation at the least but you can’t drag yourself to start it, completely spent from what just occurred.

So, instead, you close your eyes.

You’ll deal with it in the morning.

[thinkinonsense]

forgive if it’s a bit scatterbrained but hear me out… some sort of reverse corruption w old man!logan >///< i just feel like he won’t be the type of guy who’d immediately be into having a thing w young!reader. i feel like he won’t even take it seriously at first or there’s def gonna be more resistance from him, he’d probably feel initially repulsed by the idea of even beginning to think of them that way given how young they are. but reader is bold bold, so they’re gonna keep pushing and pushing until they’ve got him where they want him. but even if she’s practically sinking down on him, logan is still probably gonna be like “fuck’s wrong with you, huh? old enough to be your fucking grandfather, kid. c’mon, you don’t really want this.”

poor old man’s just too decent for his own good :(

old man!logan x young bold fem!reader *mdni

logan couldn't stand you. how young and ambitious you were; how you couldn't just take no as a fuckin' answer. you thought it was cute but logan found it rather obnoxious. you were persistent with your attraction towards the older man; frequenting the only bar in town that logan was still welcomed in.

"what are we drinking tonight, lo?" your voice was a siren song that he wished he could turn off.

"whiskey." he mumbles against the glass.

the mean glare he sent your way would've made anyone else run in fear, but not you. instead smiling up at him with bambi eyes. at first, logan thought you were just dumb, not picking up on his signals but as it turned out, you're just stubborn.

every friday night, you sat on the stool next to him. you should've been flirting with guys your age by the pool table but no, you would rather get rejected by the old man who drinks alone. at one point even the bartenders started to think that you two were together which logan quickly shut down.

"c'mon, at least let me pretend that i'm yours," you whine, swirling around your second fruity drink tonight.

"you don't want to 'be mine', kid," he said in a stern voice, similar to one you would use on a child who won't behave.

"aaand...why not?" you ask him, crossing your arms and already getting pissy. "don't gimme that bullshit about you being 'too old' either."

"has anyone ever told you that you're-"

"pretty? hilarious? tight? yeah, a few times actually."

logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. he tries to give you some sympathy but there's only so many times that you can burn your hand on the stove until you learn your lesson.

"look, cherry..." logan sets his glass down. you adored when he called you, cherry because that meant he was paying attention to you and what you drank, always having to top it off with a cherry. "i'm probably your grandfather's age-"

"don't care." you interrupt him, leaning forward to stare into his eyes and run a hand through his hair. "your grey hair is so hot, lo. should let me pull on it sometime."

logan was finding it more difficult to resist you. almost letting out a groan when you pull slightly. logan could smell your arousal forming; clouding his vision.

"why don't you throw your panties in someone else's direction, huh? i'm sure those boys over there wouldn't mind." logan snarls, getting fed up with your attitude.

it wasn't that he didn't find you attractive, quite the opposite really. maybe if he was younger or you were older then he wouldn't mind your flirty personality so much but that's not the way that the world works. logan is -whether or not he wants to admit it- old and he didn't have time to put up with your whiney shit.

"okay." you shrug, getting up from the barstool.

logan doesn't believe that you'll actually go talk to those boys. in one minute your ass will be back here annoying him. he was sure of it.

then ten minutes passed and giggles were still falling from your lips. nothing the guys said was actually funny but you played it up to look better. there was one guy who you actually didn't mind talking to; both of you went to the same college and shared the same major. for a second, you'd completely forgotten about the man burning holes into your side.

the two of you talked for a while, exchanging stories while you leaned against the pool table in your tiny cut-off shorts. logan watched those boys gawk at you; staring everywhere but your face.

"i know right! her class was horrible! all she did was-" your words fell short when someone grabbed your upper arm, attempting to pull you away from the guy, who you think his name was josh, or john, or jake? you couldn't really remember and you definitely didn't care.

"c'mon kid, i'll give you a ride home." logan growled in your ear.

"oh, it's okay!" you chirp like a little bird at him. "think i'll find another way home tonight."

it's just a facade, logan told himself. you were just trying to prove a point. always stubborn.

"i'm not messing 'round, kid-"

"leave her alone, old man." the kid interrupted, giving logan a push.

logan snarls, about to teach this boy a lesson but you are faster; heel-kicking him in the nuts. the boy hunched over, allowing you to be ear level with him.

"fuck off." you spit, angrily before walking away.

logan looked at you completely dumbfounded. he had no other choice than to follow you blindly outside of the bar. he found you leaning against his truck; under the dim street light, logan would've misplaced you for some angelic figure.

"mind takin' me home, lo?" you ask him, for once not acting like some horny little rabbit towards him.

he nods, fishing out his keys. you give him directions to your apartment. the silence in the car makes you think logan's mad at you for real this time. you pushed it too far, embarrassing him and yourself this time. logan wasn't this dirty old perv who would actually give you the time of day, and maybe it was time for you to face that reality.

"i just wanted to say sorry for everything." your voice is low and quiet. afraid logan won't even acknowledge you. "i know that i should've left you alone a long time ago. you wouldn't want someone like me anyway-"

the car came to a dead halt in the driveway. logan turns to face you and you fear the worst; afraid he will yell at you.

"do you seriously think i wouldn't want you?" he asks. "you haven't left my mind since the day we bumped into each other at the bar and i spilled my whisky down your shirt. remember that, cherry?"

you nod, carefully. that day was imprinted in your mind. your friends and you were celebrating your birthday when logan bumped into you at the bar on accident. he frantically apologized for ruining your white shirt which you suggested for him to lick you clean. it had been so long since someone had flirted with him that he didn't know how to react.

"i'd never seen someone look so pretty and sticky at the same time." logan's hand gently caresses your cheek.

"could've seen it more often if you had fucked me like i wish you would've." the words fall out without pressure, making logan smirk. no matter how much you tried, you were desperate for him.

"you've got one dirty fuckin' mouth, cherry."

"it gets dirtier than that."

"hmm... don't know if that's possible."

"i could show you if you like."

the offer hangs hot in the truck. logan leans back into his seat, asking for forgiveness on what he's about to do. three light taps on his thigh and you crawl right into it.

"atta fuckin' girl, cherry." he groans as you grind against his crotch and bite on his neck.

"also for the record, the only person i want to have my panties is you, logan." you purred in his ear, referring back to your earlier conversation at the bar.

"i know, sweetheart. i know." he chuckles, watching you kick off your shorts and underwear.

once your back in his lap, you unbuckle his belt and wait eagerly for him to have his way with you. yet, logan doesn't offer anything.

"if you want to fuck an old man like me then you need to get used to doin' all the work, cherry." he says, half-joking. "can't keep up with an eager little thing like you."

you knew his game. to scare you off by acting like an asshole but you didn't mind doing the work to get what you want.

"fine with me." you smile, hands inching towards the glasses that hang on his button-down. "can't forget these, want you to see what you do to me."

logan groaned when you pulled him out of his pants, pumping him a few times before aligning him to your entrance. he was a bit bigger than you would've guessed, only making you wetter. just as you are about to sink down onto him, logan stops you, holding your hips in the air.

"fuck's wrong with you, cherry? you still want this, huh?" he taunts you, only getting a whine from you in response. "such a desperate little thing."

"p-p-please, logan." your hips wiggle against his tight grip. "want you... need you."

without another word, he lowers you down onto his length. both of you moan at the adjustment. your nails claw at logan's shoulders and you feel him twitch inside of you at the pain.

"happy now?" logan groaned, watching you bounce up and down on your own. his hands stayed on your waist, squeezing at the fat of your hips. "got what you fuckin' wanted."

"mhm..." you nod along dumbly agreeing to whatever he says. too busy trying to get his white button-down off of him. frustrated, you break open all the buttons.

once his chest was exposed, you litter it with kisses and dark bruises. for the first time, logan was happy that his healing abilities were slowing down so now he can admire your artwork longer. you grab both of his giant palms bringing one hand to your chest and taking the other thumb into your mouth, licking the pad of it before moving it down to your clit. tracing circles in a way that made your head fall back with your mouth wide open.

"do you always get this wet for older men or is it just for me, sweetheart?" logan asked, fist full of your hair.

"j-just you, lo..." you gasp.

logan's lips found your jaw, kissing up to your chin before capturing your lips. he wasn't a fan of fruity drinks but he loved the taste they left in your mouth. your backs against the wheel lazily and logan can tell that your orgasm is approaching.

"don't give up now, cherry." he teased. "you were doing so good, being a perfect little slut in my lap. what happened to her?"

you were too fucked out to say anything back and he knew it. logan finally took pity on you and started pistoling into you, listening to every pretty curse word that fell from your trembling lips.

"where do you want me, sweetheart?" logan grunts in your ear, pulling at the lobe as you come down from your high.

"inside, please."

that's all logan needed to hear to spill inside of you. the warmth indescribably flooded you. the two of you collapse in each other's arms, collecting yourself for a few minutes.

"told you, i'm a good fuck." you told him, looking up at him with messy hair and an unapologetic smile.

"didn't doubt you," he says, mirroring your smile as he moves some pieces of hair from your forehead. maybe logan could see you being a permanent person in his life.

"and to think..." your words drift off as you start to move again, feeling him get hard again inside of you. "we are just getting started."

[luveline]

I know you’re asking for Spencer fics… While I adore single dad!Spencer… How about some single mom!reader and Spencer? 💕

You and your daughter work your way into Spencer’s life one chess game at a time. fem, 1.3k

It all starts with, “Hello.” 

Spencer looks up, and he finds any word he could’ve said dead on his tongue. You smile at him oddly gentle, and he assumes he’s got something on his face your afraid to point out.

“Hi,” you say, unperturbed by his lack of response. You keep your head ducked but seem friendly enough as you lick your lips. “I don’t know if you’re busy, but I was wondering if you’d play chess with my daughter. You don’t have to say yes, but she’s really polite and she won’t cheat, and she really wants to say hi.” 

Spencer looks behind you, where your daughter stands a ways away pretending not to watch. She could only be three of your years old —if she can play chess, she’s a prodigy. She has on stripy tights and a dress, a vinyl coat open over the top, her hands wringing together. 

“Okay,” Spencer says. 

Your smile is even nicer, then. Relief and thankfulness aimed fully at him. “Thank you.” 

You meander back to your daughter and bend down to whisper instructions too quiet for Spencer to hear. Shy, your daughter shimmies forward, then walks proper steps when you encourage her with your hand behind her shoulder. “It’s okay,” you whisper, “let’s say hi.” 

The chess boards are built into the tables at the park. Spencer sits on one stone stool, and your daughter makes herself comfortable on the opposite one. You kneel beside her without worry, knees on the dirty floor. 

“Hi,” your daughter says. She has a high voice, reedy, like she needs a drink. 

You rub her arm. 

“Hello,” Spencer says. “Have you played before?” 

“Me and mom play.” 

“So you know the rules?” 

“Some,” she says. 

Spencer’s only human. He does think about the horror of being trapped opposite of a toddler for the next half an hour bumbling through the steps, but it’s not as though he has other things to do, and, really, he loves people. He’s scared of talking, that’s all. 

“We play a lot on my phone, where it tells her what moves she can and can’t do,” you say. “But it’s okay. I have practice, I can be the phone.” 

Your daughter laughs like this is the funniest thing on the planet. “You don’t look like a phone,” she says. 

“That’s nice of you, but that’s ‘cos you’ve never seen my wires.” 

She laughs again. 

“I know all the rules, too, don’t worry,” Spencer says. “Are those your pieces? Or we can play with mine?” 

“Sofie has her pieces, it’s okay, we don’t wanna lose yours.” 

You let your backpack slip down your back and unveil a chess board box with sellotaped corners. The sleeve inside is unhurt, and you put it in the middle of the table. Spencer takes initiative and grabs the purple ones. You and Sofie arrange the pink ones in a mirror. 

Sofie is surprisingly good at chess, considering her age. Sometimes Spencer ends up playing against you, your advice murmured in her ear, and every time you smile at him he feels a little nauseous.  

He lets her win, of course. The first few times, at least. Over weeks, you and Sofia occasionally see him in the park playing chess, some days in the middle of a game with someone else, other times alone. Sofie comes up to him increasingly confident to ask for the next game, and Spencer realises he’s somehow made two friends. 

“Spencer!” Sofie shouts, tumbling over the grass bank to stop on the end of the retaining wall bordering the chess tables. You’re just behind her, looking tired. 

“Sofie, hi!” 

Sofie jumps down off of the wall before either of you can stop her. “Spencer, where have you been?” She rockets toward him. He stands, worried she’ll fall flat on her face, but she continues to race toward him until she’s throwing her arms around his legs. “I missed you.” 

“Well, I missed you too,” he says, surprised. He gives her back a tentative pat. “I’ve been learning new techniques.” 

“But where did you go?” she asks. 

“I went to Alaska. It was super cold.”

“Hi, Spencer,” you greet, flushed as you plop down on the stone seat opposite him. 

Believe it or not (easily believable), Spencer didn’t ask you your name the first time you met. Or the second. On the third occasion you met, you actually apologised with too much sincerity and said, “I’m so sorry, I never asked what your name was. I can’t believe it. I’m Y/N.” 

So now you’re introduced, and Spencer has a raging crush on you. 

Spencer grins as Sofie sits on his seat, shuffling over so they can sit together. “What, you’re on my team today?” he asks her excitedly. 

“Yes!” She pats the chess board. “Mom, my pieces.” 

“It’s okay, we can use mine.” Spencer’s are already out on the table. He’d been hoping to see you both. 

“I won’t lose them,” Sofie promises. 

“I might. Where have you been, Spencer? Sof made us come here four times last week, we had to play chess with Melinda.” 

“I was working,” he says. “We’re always going somewhere far away, I didn’t realise we’d be there for so long.” 

“‘Cos he’s a special agent,” you whisper to Sofie. 

She puts a finger over her lips, “Mom, don’t so loud!” 

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” You nudge a King back onto his square. “Did I blow your cover?” you ask, your voice a rolling murmur.

Spencer holds Sofie’s back reactively as she wiggles on the seat. He has an answer. He should play along —he’s been reading up on how to flirt like he’s not a lonely weirdo and that’s with confidence and running jokes, but the way you’re looking at him stops him in his tracks. 

No one ever mentions the panic of a shared smile. 

“What happens if people find out?” Sofie asks worriedly. 

“Nothing happens, Sofie, I’m the boring kind of special agent where nothing I do is a secret.” He winces at her crestfallen expression. “I’m sorry. Maybe we can have a secret mission together? Me, you, and mom?” 

“Really?” you ask, surprised. 

Spencer nods enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah! Yeah, of course.” 

“Like… dinner?” 

Spencer bites the tip of his tongue, to an immediate sting. It’s not the first time in his life a conversation he’s in has occurred without him: you’re shared smile was you flirting first. His reciprocation, while not intended, has served as flirtation. 

He didn’t mean to do it, but he doesn’t care, he won’t mess it up, “If you want to?” He clears his throat, his voice returning to a more acceptable tenor. “We could go for dinner… tonight.” 

“Tonight?” 

“Not tonight. Not… unless you want to?” 

“We didn’t have dinner yet,” Sofie says helpfully. 

Your gaze falls to the chess board. “I don’t think I’m dressed for dinner. I had such a long shift.” You’re shrugging, minimising yourself. 

Spencer moves his and Sofie’s first pawn. “You always look beautiful.” 

He cannot look at you after he says it, but he doesn’t need to. 

“Mom, you're doing that smile like when Mr. Mailman brings our letters.” 

“Thank, Sofie,” you say. 

Spencer sneaks a glance at your smile. It’s decidedly shy, and if he were to touch your cheek, he guesses he’d find your skin warming. “What does he do when he brings the letters?” Spencer asks. 

You pin him with wide eyes. 

“He says she’s pretty with a big ‘p’,” Sofie whispers. 

“She is pretty,” Spencer whispers back. 

You move a chess piece with a breathless laugh. “Okay, then let’s get dinner after I wipe the floor with you both.” 

Spencer decides now is the appropriate time to reveal that he is very good at chess. He and Sofie win in ten moves. 

[bbyseok]

thinking about teen satosugu asking you to be their valentine...

to you, valentine’s day is just like any other day at jujutsu high.

except—you run into geto in the hallway, to which he hastily tries to hide what seems to be a heart-shaped box of chocolates behind his back.

“hi, suguru!” you greet, trying to hide a knowing smile from crossing your lips as he straightens his posture.

when he averts his gaze away from you, he clears his throat. “hey.. didn’t think i was going to run into you this early,” he says a bit awkwardly.

“are those for satoru?” you bluntly ask him, obviously referring to the chocolates he’s trying to conceal from your sight.

this time, you don’t fight the grin curling onto your mouth as, in a rare moment, suguru is stumbling over his words for some sort of explanation. “uhh. well, um, i- it’s for—”

you merely hum and pat him on the shoulder. “don’t worry, i won’t tell him.” you start to take your leave before geto can get any words in. “i’ll see you in class later!”

fast forward at the classroom, you then encounter gojo… who has an arm wrapped around a bouquet of flowers. in his hand is his flip phone, pressed against his ear. “what do you mean it’s not gonna work? it’s perfect!” he says to whoever’s on the other line.

he hasn’t seen you yet as he sets the arrangement down on one of the desks, and the white-haired boy appears to be a mix of giddy and proud.

your eyes glint with curiosity as you quietly enter the room, addressing him teasingly, “ooohh, flowers for suguru?” you tease.

satoru whirls around in surprise to stare at you, wide-eyed. “wh— i didn’t-”

you hear footsteps behind you, and a familiar sigh. “i told you it wasn’t gonna work, satoru,” geto announces, phone in hand. the black-haired sorcerer peers over you to give gojo a pointed look.

now you’re starting to get a little confused. if suguru knew about the flowers then…

you walk to stand between the two boys, squinting your eyes. “what’re.. what were you trying to do exactly?” you try asking.

a chuckle leaves the both of them. “trying to.. surprise you?” gojo clears up, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

you blink at geto. “but i thought you said those chocolates were for satoru!” you say to him with a soft shake of your head.

geto has a slight smirk on his lips. “i didn’t say anything. you were the one who assumed.”

you then glance to satoru. “those flowers are for—” oh. oh. you fall quiet when you realize he had placed the bouquet on your desk.

“happy valentine’s day!!” satoru then decides to cheer, scooping up said bouquet back into his grasp to hold it out to you, while suguru does the same with the box of chocolates.

suguru is still wearing that sly smirk, amused. “it was supposed to be a surprise, like satoru said. but i just had to run into you first.”

you graciously accept their offerings, your heart racing in your chest. “i— thank you. you guys are so sweet.” the gifts feel light in your arms, but they mean the world to you.

gojo and geto shuffle a bit closer. “will you be our valentine?” satoru is the one to ask, blue eyes pleading.

and how can you deny that? you laugh, nodding. “of course. you’re so silly— what makes you think i’d say no?”

geto grins. “just making sure.”

you then chew on your lip lower in contemplation. you hadn’t exactly prepared any proper gifts for them in return. (though you’re sure you can share the chocolates with gojo happily.)

your eyes then light up and you laugh again. “hey, i got something for you two,” you tell them, your eyes gleaming with slight mischief.

gojo beams. “really?”

geto simply raises a brow. “yeah?”

“mhm, mhm. c’mere.” you gesture for them to lean in close to you as best as you can since your arms are still occupied with the flowers and chocolates.

when they do as instructed, you giggle— before placing a kiss on geto’s cheek, then gojo’s, your heart beating faster than it ever has before.

and when you pull back, the faces of the strongest sorcerers are as red as tomatoes.

mm, maybe valentine’s day isn’t just another day after all.

part of my teen satosugu series!

[lady-luckk]

the accidental cult...

# pairings: yandere cult harem x reader

# synopsis: you accidentally start a cult after a video of you goes viral. they’re weird and obsessive. they won’t ever leave you alone. now you have to deal with them forever.

# warnings: this will contain dark themes such as obsession, kidnapping, and possessiveness. if you are uncomfortable, please block me. viewer discretion is advised. minors DNI.

# notes: this is a rewrite of my previous yandere cult harem from my old blog, @screeching-bunny. reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated!

it started with a mistake.

you weren’t sure how it happened. one moment, you were living an unremarkable life; the next, you were being worshipped. the transition was seamless, orchestrated with eerie precision. from the moment you were taken—kidnapped, though the word feels hollow now—there was a process. a routine. the priesthood that surrounded you operated like a machine, every action calculated to please you, every word carefully chosen to reinforce their beliefs.

at first, you resisted. you questioned them, demanded answers. you threatened and bargained. none of it mattered. they never raised a hand to you, never once forced you into anything. they simply provided. food appeared the moment you felt the slightest hunger. luxuries you never asked for were gifted without hesitation. if you so much as glanced at something for too long, it was presented to you like an offering.

and, slowly, you stopped fighting.

it wasn’t that you believed them. you weren’t that far gone. it was just… easier. if playing along meant safety, meant comfort, meant never having to struggle again—then why not? you told yourself it was temporary. that one day, you’d find a way out. but days became weeks, and weeks bled into months. and somewhere along the line, escape became an afterthought.

the wealth never ran out. that part unsettled you the most. you had assumed, naively, that this whole operation would collapse under its own weight. that your lavish lifestyle, the absurd amount of resources being poured into you, would drain them dry. but no. more and more people arrived. donations poured in. followers spoke of salvation, of miracles, of purpose.

you tried to understand why. the more you listened, the more disturbed you became. they weren’t just devoted. they were obsessed. they spoke of you in reverent whispers, their gazes filled with something beyond reason. their fanaticism was terrifying, unshakable.

“did you see them today? just being in their presence feels like a blessing.”

“i donated everything i had. it’s worth it just to know they exist in this world.”

“i would gladly give my life if it meant they smiled at me one more time.”

and that’s when you realized: there was no escape. not because they wouldn’t let you leave, but because they would follow. it didn’t matter where you went, how far you ran—they would find you. they would never let go. you were their god, and they were willing to tear the world apart to keep you.

at some point, you stopped trying to fight it. stopped questioning how it had all gone so far. you played your part, gave the speeches they wanted to hear, let them believe what they wanted to believe. but in the quiet moments, when the weight of it all pressed down on you, you wondered: were you their prisoner, or were they yours?

the room was filled with soft murmurs, the air thick with anticipation as you walked among your followers. they parted respectfully, bowing their heads as you passed. the atmosphere, once stifling, now felt suffocating in a different way—like a pressing weight that only intensified the longer you stayed. but despite the discomfort, you played your role. you always did.

as you moved, a young woman stepped forward, her hands trembling as she reached for your sleeve. you stopped instinctively, and she fell to her knees, her eyes wide with reverence. there was a sparkle there—a light, so bright it almost hurt to look at.

"please," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet of the room. "i have to know... do you see me? do you see what i’ve become because of you?"

you took a breath, still unsure of what to say. you had been asked questions like this a hundred times, each one more fervent than the last, but something about her voice made you pause.

"i see you," you said slowly, as though the words themselves might break something fragile. "what have you become?"

her eyes glistened, tears threatening to fall. "a better person," she answered, her words almost a mantra. "you’ve changed my life, my everything. i used to feel lost, so... alone. but now i have a purpose. i live for you. everything i do is for you."

she leaned forward, her forehead nearly touching the floor as she offered her devotion. "please, let me serve you. let me show you how much i adore you."

your stomach churned at the sincerity in her voice, the unshakable belief that had taken root in her heart. the adoration was too much, yet it was undeniable. she wasn't the first, and she wouldn't be the last.

before you could speak, another voice cut through the air, low but urgent. "i’ve been watching them for months now," a man said, stepping forward, his hands clasped tightly together. "they... they really do change lives, don’t they? they brought me back from the brink. i had nothing. no hope. no reason to keep going. but now? now i have something. someone. them." he glanced at you, his gaze filled with something unsettling. "they saved me. and i’ll never be able to repay them enough."

you nodded, slowly, unsure how to respond. the words didn’t feel real, and yet here they were, in front of you. his voice wavered, but the desperation was evident. the belief that you had saved him, that you had somehow reached into his brokenness and fixed him, left you frozen.

a third figure, older, stepped up, his voice trembling but firm. "i left my family for this," he said, his tone almost apologetic but with an underlying pride. "i couldn’t be a part of that life anymore. they didn’t understand, they couldn’t. but you... you gave me clarity. you gave me direction. everything else faded. and now..." he hesitated, tears welling up in his eyes. "now i live only for you."

the others stood silent, watching. waiting. their faces a mixture of devotion and fear, as if each word spoken could break some invisible bond. but they were all in it together. they all believed. the room felt suffocating with it, the weight of their collective faith pressing down on you.

one of them, a younger man, almost frantic, reached forward and grabbed your hands with shaking fingers. "do you know what you’ve done for us?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but sharp with emotion. "you gave us purpose. you made us feel seen. before you, we were nothing. now—now we are everything. we are your chosen ones."

he looked up at you, eyes wide, as if waiting for some kind of affirmation. but there was nothing you could say. nothing that would change this. they were all too far gone, caught in a web of their own making, and you—unwillingly, unknowingly—were at the center of it.

"please," the woman from earlier said, her voice pleading. "we need you. we will always need you. don’t leave us."

you felt your chest tighten at the intensity of it all. you didn’t want this. none of it. but you knew, deep down, that you could never get away. they wouldn’t let you. not now, not ever.

you didn’t speak immediately. the words seemed too small, too inadequate to say in the face of their belief. so instead, you gave a nod, just the smallest movement. it didn’t matter. they saw what they wanted to see. your mere presence was enough.

"thank you," the older man whispered, his voice breaking. "thank you for saving us."

and in that moment, as the room held its breath, you realized—there was no escape. not because they wouldn’t let you leave, but because they would follow you, wherever you went. they had already made up their minds.

you were their salvation. and they would never let you go.

it had all begun with an accident. a misunderstanding that spiraled beyond your control.

you had been walking home one night, unaware of the eyes that followed. it wasn’t until the news spread—an image of you caught in the glow of a streetlamp, head bowed, hands clasped in exhaustion—that something shifted. someone online called it divine. a joke, at first, a meme shared in obscure corners of the internet. but the joke gained traction. people sought meaning where there was none, shaped a narrative around you that you had no say in. strangers whispered of a prophecy, of a long-awaited return.

then, the disappearances started.

a handful of them at first. people who claimed to have seen you in their dreams, who abandoned their lives in search of you. others took it further. they created spaces of worship, their symbols and prayers growing more elaborate with each passing week. the whispers turned into murmurs, then into a movement. before you knew it, you had become something beyond yourself.

you didn’t know who orchestrated your abduction. you weren’t even sure if it had been planned or if it was simply inevitable. but when you woke up in the temple—if it could even be called that—you knew something had changed forever.

perhaps, in another life, you would have been able to stop it. but this was not that life. this was the one where you had already been chosen.

you changed their lives, though not in the way you would have ever wanted.

they spoke of you as salvation, as the one who had given them purpose where before there was only emptiness. they wrote about you online in posts that blurred the line between devotion and mania. forums filled with your name, thousands upon thousands of messages dissecting your every expression, every word, every breath. they claimed you had healed them, that your very existence had given them something to believe in.

and they reshaped their lives around you.

people quit their jobs, abandoned their families, sold everything they owned. they gathered in clusters across the world, connected through the web of your unwanted divinity. they fought with outsiders, with each other, with themselves. all for you. always for you. every action justified by their unwavering faith.

you tried, once, to dissuade them. you spoke plainly, told them you were just a person, that there was nothing special about you. they wept at your feet, overcome by the "humility of their god." your denial only strengthened their belief.

you were the center of their world, and nothing you did would ever change that.

to them, you had saved them. they spoke of how they had been lost, aimless, drowning in the meaningless cycle of existence. you had given them something to hold onto. a purpose greater than themselves. something to dedicate their lives to.

in their eyes, you had made their lives better. you had freed them from the burden of choice, of uncertainty. they no longer had to question what came next. every day had meaning because you existed. every struggle was worth it if it was for you.

but you knew the truth. they had not been saved. they had been consumed.

the realization was suffocating.

to them, you had made their lives better. you had freed them from the burden of choice, of uncertainty. they no longer had to question what came next. every day had meaning because you existed. every struggle was worth it if it was for you.

some had been lost, drifting without purpose, and now they belonged to something greater. some had suffered, and now they found solace in your presence. they were willing to give everything because, in their eyes, you had already given them more than they had ever dreamed.

they smiled more. they wept with joy instead of sorrow. they spoke of love, devotion, and fulfillment.

to them, you were salvation.

you knew better.

[b1eedthefreak]

can you do more girly!reader and daryl pretty please? it’s okay if not! but i looooved your one shot :3

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Princess Duty

⌇daryl dixon x girly!reader

⌇summary: you hurt your ankle after a trip with daryl, so he takes care of you like you’re a princess

⌇warnings: fluff

⌇word count: ~5.2k

a/n okay lowkey i don’t really like this i feel like it could’ve been more emphasized she’s girly reader but it’s okay because i will never stop writing girly reader so i will do this request more justice

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⸻

The air was crisp with the faint scent of the open wilderness as you and Daryl made your way through the quiet roads, the morning sun breaking through the trees above, casting long shadows over the path. You had begged him to come with you on a short trip to explore a nearby area that you’d heard about. An old abandoned mall. Daryl had been hesitant at first, his wariness of straying too far from Alexandria weighing on him, but he couldn’t deny the small spark of curiosity that flickered in his chest.

So, here you were, walking side by side through the woods, hand wrapped around the handle of your bedazzled satchel bag, a gentle breeze blowing through your hair.

“Ya sure this place is gonna be worth it?” Daryl asked, voice low but teasing as he glanced sideways at you. His brow was furrowed, his face always partially hidden under the shadows of his hair and hood, but you could see the faint gleam of amusement in his eyes.

“I think so,” you said excitedly, bouncing a little in your step. “I heard there’s a store in there with, like, perfumes, makeup, and clothes. Can you imagine? Like, things from before everything just went zombie apocalypse mode!”

Daryl let out a breath, rolling his eyes in a mock exasperation, but there was a softness to it. “You’re gonna get lost in there baby,” he muttered, the word rolling off his tongue like something familiar, something that had become second nature.

You laughed, the sound carrying through the trees. “I know! That’s why I have a big strong man with me, duh!”

“Right.” Daryl replied with a smirk, though there was a protectiveness hidden beneath his words.

As you reached the mall, the building stood before you, looming in the distance like a forgotten relic of the past. The gray brick walls were chipped, covered in ivy and moss, but the structure still held strong. The doors creaked as you pushed them open, the bell above the entrance giving a jarring little jingle. It almost felt like stepping into another world, one where the chaos of the world outside didn’t exist.

The inside was eerily quiet, dust covering every surface, but there was something magical about it. A forgotten time, a faded memory.

And then, you saw it.

“Daryl, look!” you called, excitement practically spilling out of your words. Your finger pointed toward a section at the back of the store, a shelf lined with perfume bottles, their glass shimmering faintly even in the dim light. It was like a beacon.

Daryl walked up beside you, glancing over at the shelf. “Yeah, baby, I’m lookin’,” he said softly, his voice filled with amusement as he watched you move forward.

You practically skipped toward the shelf, your hand reaching for one of the bottles. “I just—” you started, a grin plastered on your face, “I just wanna smell something nice, y’know?”

“Don’t go fallin’ and hurtin’ yourself tryin’ to reach somethin’,” Daryl warned with a half hearted scowl as he watched you stretch up onto your toes, trying to get your hands on the bottle.

You smirked over your shoulder, determined. “I won’t! I’m almost there!”

But, of course, the world had other plans. As you balanced precariously, trying to grab the perfume bottle just a little higher, your foot slipped. Your ankle twisted, and before you could stop yourself, you fell forward with a startled cry, landing in a soft heap on the floor.

“Ain’t that just like ya,” Daryl muttered under his breath as he rushed to your side. His hand was immediately on your shoulder, helping you sit up as he scanned you for any real injury. “Baby, I told ya to stop.”

You winced, trying to put weight on your foot, but the sharp pain that shot through your ankle made it impossible. “Ow…” you muttered, rubbing at the sore spot. “I’m okay. Really.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed as he crouched in front of you. “Yeah? Sure about that?”

You nodded, though the pain made your face scrunch. “I think I just twisted it. It’s fine.”

Daryl let out a small, frustrated sound before reaching down to gently lift your foot off the ground. “Ain’t gonna be fine if ya don’t let me take care of ya.” He scooped you up in his arms effortlessly, surprising you with the strength he always seemed to have, even in the most tender moments.

“Daryl! I’m a strong independent woman perfectly cable of—” you started, but he was already moving, his steps firm as he carried you toward the exit.

“Shh, no arguments princess,” he muttered, his tone firm yet caring. “Let’s get you back to Alexandria.”

The ride back to Alexandria was uneventful, the silence between you two comfortable. You leaned against Daryl, your head resting on his shoulder, and he kept one hand gently supporting your injured ankle, cradling it carefully like it was the most delicate thing in the world. You closed your eyes, allowing the comfort of his presence to wash over you.

By the time you made it back to the safety of Alexandria, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the walls of the settlement. Daryl didn’t hesitate to take you straight to your house, where he made you sit on the bed while he examined your ankle.

“You’re lucky it’s not broken,” he said quietly, though his expression was still tinged with concern. “But ya still gotta take it easy for a while.”

You sighed, flopping back against the pillows. “I hate not being able to do my stuff… The kids are gonna be disappointed. I won’t be able to do my deliveries tomorrow, or teach them the way I usually do.”

Daryl frowned as he carefully wrapped your ankle in a bandage, his fingers moving with practiced ease, but there was a soft intensity in his gaze. “Ain’t nobody gonna be disappointed, princess,” he murmured. “They’ll understand. And you need to rest. You’ve been takin’ care of everyone else. Now it’s your turn to let me take care of ya.”

Before you could respond, a knock came at the door, followed by a voice from outside. “(Y/N)? You in there? We miss you! The kids are askin’ when you’re comin’ back.”

Daryl stood up straight, his body tense. You saw the shift in his posture, a quiet, protective energy emanating from him. He glanced at you, then opened the door. “She’s restin’,” he said, his tone a little sharper than usual. “She’ll be fine, just need some time.”

The guy from outside nodded and waved, stepping away. “We’re all missin’ ya around here. Don’t be too long, alright?”

As the door clicked shut, Daryl turned back to you, his face softening, but his gaze still intense. “Ya hear that? They’re all missin’ you.” There was a slight edge to his voice. “Don’t like the idea of everyone else makin’ sure you’re okay.”

You grinned, catching the undertone of his words. “Daryl Dixon! Are you jealous?”

Daryl’s eyes darkened for a moment, and he ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to hide the hint of discomfort. “Maybe,” he muttered, lowering his gaze to your ankle. “Don’t like others fussin’ over ya.”

You chuckled softly, reaching for his hand. “Don’t worry, Daryl. I’m not going anywhere.”

With a small grunt, he knelt beside you again, his hands gentle as he adjusted the blanket around you. “You don’t need to be doin’ everything for everyone else, princess. It’s time you let me take care of you. Just you.”

You smiled, leaning into him, your head resting against his chest as his arms wrapped around you. “I’m lucky to have you, Daryl.”

“Yeah?” His voice was soft, but there was a deep warmth there. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Well, I’m the lucky one.”

The night passed slowly, with Daryl taking care of you in every way imaginable. From fetching your favorite snacks to tucking you in and keeping you close, he made sure you knew how much you meant to him.

And when the quiet of the night finally settled over you both, Daryl’s lips found yours in a gentle kiss, soft and full of affection.

“Rest easy, princess,” he whispered, “I’ve gotcha.”

As you drifted to sleep in his arms, the world outside seemed a little less chaotic, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt right.

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[crimsonbubble]

arrogant ceo yunho who gets knocked down by his cute little intern

He works his employees to the bone, forcing long, gruelling hours and unnecessary overtime. He finds it amusing how easily anyone bends over backwards to please him. He loves knowing how many people hate him but can't afford to lose their jobs, so they never formally complain. You've been dealing with this for months, just trying to get through your internship without pulling your hair out, yet Mr. Jeong always finds a way to add more to your plate and make you redo reports.

Everyone has a breaking point, so when your recent report gets flagged, again, you can only purse your lips and turn to your computer to redo it—until you get called into his office. You swear you could feel your eye twitch, your nails digging into your palms as you clench your fists in an attempt not to break everything on your desk.

You march to his office, throwing open the door without knocking or waiting for approval. "Do you find joy in making your employee's lives miserable?" His door hadn't even been closed when you started in on him. Mr. Jeong quirks a brow, a scoff leaving his lips as he pushes reports aside on his desk. With a clenched jaw, you stalked over to his desk, wrapping his tie around his hand and yanking him forward.

His eyes widened as a staggered gasp left his mouth at your incredulous action. “Do you think… this is a laughing matter, Mr. Jeong?” Your voice is hauntingly smooth as you tug on his tie again. “I can terminate your contract for this stunt.” He internally groaned at how shaky his breath was as he talked. You chuckled dryly. “You won’t, though.” You stare into his eyes, glazed over with bottled emotions. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you know I do this job better than any employee here,” You tightened your grip on his tie. “And you’d be damned to lose me.” His office suddenly feels a lot hotter, his throat dry as he tries to focus on the fury in your eyes and not your soft lips that are pulled taut.

Mr. Jeong's lips press together, his eyes locked onto yours, trying to reclaim the authority that has suddenly slipped from his grasp. You can see the conflict brewing in his gaze—indignation fighting with undeniable acknowledgment. He knows you're right. You’ve always known. That’s why he pushes you the hardest, testing how far you'll go, seeing if you'll break. 

For a moment, he’s speechless, his bravado slipping as he struggles to find a response. “This—” he starts, his voice wavering slightly. “This is unacceptable behaviour.” But you don’t let go. Instead, you lean closer, and you can feel his breath hitch. He’s always been untouchable, but right now, he’s caught—like prey staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.

You feel something snap inside you—a dam breaking. All the pent-up frustration, all the swallowed rage. “You know what’s unacceptable?” you say, your voice low and laced with contempt. “Being treated like a machine. Expecting loyalty without respect. You think your power gives you the right to treat us like we’re beneath you. But not me. Not anymore.”

His face flushes, and for the first time since you started here, he looks unsure. Vulnerable. It's as if you've shattered the carefully crafted mask he wears every day. You can see him wavering, his confidence fraying like a thread about to snap. You’ve never seen him this way—off-balance, unguarded. There's a strange thrill in watching him come undone, knowing that you've managed to pierce the armour he hides behind.

“Let me be clear,” you say, loosening your grip just enough to let him breathe but not enough for him to pull away. “I will finish this report, and I will do it perfectly like I always do. But from now on, you're going to treat me with the respect I deserve—or I walk. And believe me, you will feel it when I’m gone.” 

He’s silent, the room thick with tension. Slowly, you release his tie, smoothing it back down against his chest. His breathing is uneven, his eyes wide, but he doesn’t stop you. He watches you like he’s never really seen you before, and maybe he hasn’t. Maybe you've been just another employee to him until now, another cog in the machine.

“Get back to work,” he says, but the command lacks its usual edge. You turn to leave, not bothering to wait for a dismissal this time. As you step through the doorway, you don’t slam the door shut. You leave it slightly ajar, knowing he’s still staring after you, something in the atmosphere between you changed forever.

Back at your desk, you start the report again, your hands steady, your mind clear. There's a new feeling thrumming in your chest—an unfamiliar, heady sense of power. For the first time, you think he might be the one who’s afraid to lose you. 

And that realization? It makes you smile.

-

Yunho sat in his office, staring at the office door you walked out of. His breathing came out hot and heavy, his heart racing in his chest. He knows he shouldn’t, but your fire is eating him alive. He can feel it crawl into every crevice of his being, lighting him up from the inside out. He leans back in his chair, trying to will his mind to be anywhere other than his pretty little intern.

Wait.

His pretty little intern…

His pretty little intern…

His pretty little intern…

His mouth fell agape, wondering where the audacity of his own thoughts was coming from. His attempt to think of anything but you was futile; no matter what he did, his thoughts found their way back to you. He ran a hand over his face, a dull throb in his head as he paced around his office. He shook his head with a huff, striding over to his door.

His eyes are scanning the cubicles and desks, watching as all employees avoid eye contact. He walks with a purpose, making his way to your desk. You nonchalantly sip on your coffee, holding a hand out to stop him before he can speak, opting to finish typing out the email before hitting send. He stared at you with disdain, his tongue poking his cheek as he sighed out his frustration. You turned in your chair, cocking your head. “My office. Now.”

“For what reason?” Yunho quirked a brow, taking notice as other workers stopped their work to witness the scene upon them. “Oh? Already forgot the stunt you pulled in my office?” Yunho leaned his hands on your desk, lowering his head to yours. “The only one pulling stunts is you, Mr. Jeong ‘never leaves his office for anything or anyone’ Yunho.” The other workers whispered among themselves, silently applauding you in your stance against your big, bad boss.

Yunho pulled out a folded paper from his jacket, straightening up before throwing it in front of you. “Alright then, here’s your final assignment. Appear in my office in two minutes or face termination.” A ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips as he put his hands in his pockets, making his way back to his office. You eyed the folded paper, scoffing at his absurdity. He actually handed you a termination letter.

You clutched the paper tightly as you got out of your seat. You threw it into your desk trashcan, grumbling as you made your way into his office. He sat against his desk, his hands still in his pockets yet his coat was off this time. He briefly took a hand out of his pocket, beckoning you over with a finger. As you stood in front of him, you could smell the cologne waving off him; a mix of earthy tones and sweetness.

Yunho waited for the click of his door, ensuring that it was closed before he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into him. His lips found yours with ease. His kiss was rushed, fueled by the emotions from earlier. “You have no idea what you do to me.” His voice is hushed as he whispers against your lips. His hands stay busy on your waist, tugging your hips closer. You smile into the kiss, letting Yunho’s hands explore your body like he’s done many times before. You slide your hands lower, palming over the obvious bulge in his slacks.

“Fuck, I need you now.” Yunho turns you around, moving you to bend over his desk. He unceremoniously tugs your pants down your thighs, groaning as he eyes the lace trimming of your panties. Yunho shoved your panties to the side, letting his leaking cock bump against your clit. You jolt against his desk, clawing at the wood. Yunho leans against your back, taking your hands in his. The ring on his finger catches against your matching one.

“Gonna be good for me, honey? Be a good girl for daddy, huh?”

[cheriladycl01]

We make a mess - Max Verstappen x Reader Smut

Plot: You’ve been reading for too long and Max is getting needy …

Warnings: smut, messy sex, p in v, fingering, blowjob, ruined sofa etc 18+ mdni

You were just reading on the sofa like you normally did when Max streamed in your living room. You’d asked him so many times if he could move his set up into an office space but he refused saying the living was large enough for it all, which it was.

So whenever he streamed you found yourself tucked up on the sofa reading a book from your expansive library in the house.

The book you were currently reading was one of those that was so easy to get lost in and to sink into. To the point you hadn’t even noticed Max end his stream, start to cook food, make both of you a drink and come sit next to you on the sofa.

You were so engrossed in the current fantasy world and all the mysterious characters popping in and out that you hadn’t even heard Max attempt to ask you if you were ready for bed.

You hadn’t even realised he’d set the pasta he’d cooked for dinner in front of you and you’d eaten it whilst still reading.

“Baby?!” Max whines whilst shaking you making you pause on the line you’d just read.

“Huh?” You ask looking round noticing that there was no natural light coming in through the windows and it was just the city lights it Monaco at night.

“Holy shit Max what time is it?” You ask looking at him and placing the book mark in and putting the book down.

“Just gone half twelve” he says and you gasp. Max had started streaming at 7pm … has you really been reading for that long.

“You ignored me when I asked for you” he says with a grouchy and pouty look on his face.

“Baby! I’m so so sorry” you rush out and look awkwardly at him while trying not to laugh.

“You have given me no attention tonight! And I think you owe me” he suggest his voice getting an octave lower and a little more scratchy than usual.

“Max baby I’m sorry!” You cry out as he manhandles you flipping you over on the sofa so your on your elbows and knees, you chin resting on the fabricated arm of the sofa.

“No, you’ve done it now” he grins lightly smacking your ass before flipping up the skirt you were wearing. His hand runs along your thong strap, that going into the dip of your waist and down your lower back across before he lightly lifts it and snaps it against you.

“M-Max” you groan at your boyfriend trying to turn round and see him but he grabs the base of your neck forcing you more foreword into the sofa making you groan out as your knees start to give out.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” He asks and you nod, your cheek squished.

He slowly rubs his hands down your hips before he gets to the bands of your underwear slowly pulling those down to leave you bare before him.

“So pretty, and so perfect. Look how wet you are already, and I’ve not even touched you. Gonna make a mess baby” he groans observing you. No matter how many times Max compliments you, or touches you, you won’t fail to become a blushing mess. You let out a small whine of appreciation as Max starts to use featherlight touches up your legs and to your inner thighs.

“Aw always so vocal” he sighs before reaching round supporting you by wrapping one arm around your waist to hold you up while his other arm comes round to your front to slowly rub circles on you clit, pulling all sorts of moans from you.

Max had a way of making you know that nobody else was ever going to be as good as he was.

Your hips start to stutter forward and a semi familiar feel starts to rise up the quicker Max rubs, pinches smacks and pulls at your clit and his dirty talking gets … dirtier.

“Max, gonna make a mess on the sofa” you cry out, feeling that one feeling that you know would end up with the sofa covered.

“No issue Schat, I can just buy a new one” he whispers in your ear biting against it before kissing along your jaw.

And shortly after, your squirting all over the sofa.

“Fuck Max, the sofa” you gasp and squirm as you feel the fabric dampen with the liquids shooting out.

You’d actually never squirted with anyone but Max and it was a feeling very different to that of your normal release, but one that was slowly becoming more and more familiar to you.

You’re left panting while Max starts to slowly, enter a finger into you, having you try and sink back onto it wanting him to create that incredible feeling again.

Two fingers are adding as he’s thrusting in and out, while he struggles to unbutton his own pants to release some pressure. He keeps up his pace the whole time, never stopping looking at you and the way your hips try to meet him with each thrust of his hand.

He gets his jeans undone, pulling them down along with his boxers pulling himself free. He was rock hard just from what he’d been doing to you, but he was now at the stage when you needed to feel some kind of release. Just a little bit of the pulsing pressure alleviated.

He starts to move his hand up and down his length with one hand while now scissoring his fingers inside of you.

He was sat leaning on the comfy back of the sofa, his head thrown back in pleasure cocked to the side to keep watching the way your body moves to meet Max’s fingers.

He didn’t anticipate just how worked up you’d made him while you were curled up on the sofa ignoring him, and he came unexpectedly quickly. As he felt that coil release he turned so he was jacking off towards you. White shooting out of his tip dripping onto your ass and down onto the sofa as you too reach your second climax of the evening.

“Max, I - I need a breather” you sigh, exhausted from your two heavy climaxes.

“Nope, whole way through baby. Wanna see that pretty face” he smiles as he flips you round so your on your back. Max knee you could go the whole way through, you’d done it before and he was confident you’d use the safe word if it really was too much for you.

And after a few moments of silence he takes that as his sign that you are in fact happy for him to continue.

It’s the first time you can fully feel the sofa and how sticky and wet it now is, covered in both your highs and it almost makes your cringe from the now cold feeling it gave.

Max’s hands come up your body, lifting your top off before taking off his pants fully and throwing his top next to yours on the floor.

“So beautiful my god” he says looking down at you. He spreads your thighs wider until you’ve wrapped your legs around him so the back of your heels dig into the little dips of his back.

He slides in with ease with how wet you are, bottoming out almost instantly. He sighs massaging your chest whilst slowly moving in and out, driving you insane.

“Max baby please faster” you beg looking up at him as he starts to run his thumb tantalising slow over your nipple.

“When you made me wait all night, just for a hello. I don’t think so baby” he says, not moving any quicker, lovingly thrusting in and out of you.

“MAXIE please” you gasp out as you feel something but you need more. You grip his shoulders pulling him closer to you, and kissing up his jaw and to his lips.

After yours words and actions he starts to speed up his movements, his grip going to your hips to angle them up, whilst a pillow is successfully slid underneath your back angling your hips up at the perfect angle where your mouth drops open like a fish.

“Eyes on me baby” he says looking over you, and you manage to keep your eyes on his as his hand comes down close to where the two of you are joined as one and he finds that spot that has you gasping in delight.

“That’s it, let go Schat” and with those words you were welcoming your third orgasm of the night. It’s fast and just as messy as your first, leaving you breathless as Max leans more of his body weight against you, his thrusts becoming sloppy before he joins you in his own ecstasy.

“Hopefully this will remind you to pay attention to me from now on?” He laughs, resting against you, exhausted from the physicality of what you’d just done.

“Mmmmmm” is all you can reply in between your ragged breathing.

You’d definitely not be so engrossed in your book next time. Or who knows maybe you would… and Mad Max would make a return … a little … teasing never hurt.

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