#( this is not a flex this is a cry for help )

[bernardsbendystraws]

Chris' scalp is gonna be sore...but so are you...

⚠︎ smut, FIFLTH, i cried writing this, why is he so hot, hair pulling, slight pain kink, lots of spelling errors im literally ?!!!? PUSSY DEVORING.

You were used to his long hair, used to tugging and pulling at the long locks as he straight up devoured you. But that wasn't the case. Not now.

"Fuckin' hell..." he mumbles, his words sluggish and slurred as he licks a stripe through your puffy folds. "-drenched for me, huh?"

The taunt makes something in your stomach curl with excitement. You arch your back further off the bed as he plunges his tongue inside of you, wiggling his nose against your clit with the perfect amount of pressure.

You can't help it. The adjustment to his new hair is different, but it's driving you both insane.

"Oh my, my god, Chris!"

Your scream blisters his skin with a lingering pride. He pulls your thighs tighter around his head, nudging his face impossibly closer to reach even deeper inside of you with his tongue.

"Tastes so fuckin' good, you---god, fuck," he hisses as you tug on his hair. His short hair. The pressure feels a lot more intense, a lot more eurphoric.

He can feel how needy you are.

The desperation in your grip is inspiring.

"Oh my-oh my-oh my god," you cry, your hips flexing and lifting off the bed with pure instinct.

It hurts, but it hurts so good.

His scalp is gonna be sore.

You're both gonna be sore...

short like his hair. i’m genuinely crying why is he so hot. with love and tits covered with tears or wtv tf ROSE 😭💗

[xspaceecho]

more, and more, and more

sypnosis: after much begging and pleading, zayne finally allows his restraint to slip, having convinced him that you can definitely take all he can give.

desc: this is shamelessly based off my previous post 🥀

Your moans echo softly in the room, breathy and desperate as you ride him, taking your time, trying to draw something out of him, he’s beneath you, lying tense and silent aside from his grunts, jaw clenched so tight you can see the tension in his throat. His hands grip your hips, barely, fingers trembling with the effort to keep his touch light, and in control.

“Zayne… Zaynee…” you whined, the sound of your voice wrecked and breathless as you bounced on his cock, it made his hands tighten on your hips, hard, and needy, fingers pressing deep into your skin like he couldn’t help it. But then he froze.

His breath hitched. His jaw clenched so tight it trembled.

And then, with a muffled curse, he tore his hands away.

They buried in the sheets instead, fists twisting into the fabric like anchors. His knuckles went stark white. His arms trembled under the strain, muscles pulled taut, his mind telling him to keep himself under control even when his body ached for something more.

You could see it, in the tightness of his throat, the tension in his shoulders, the way his body twitched every time you moaned his name like that.

But, he stays there, hands fisted in the sheets, letting you move at your pace.

But it’s not enough.

Not for you.

“More,” you whimper, voice cracking as you grind down on him again. “Zayne—please—I need more…”

He exhales sharply, head tilting back, eyes squeezed shut like your words physically hurt him.

Still, he doesn't move.

So you beg again. And again. Your voice breaks with it, raw and needy.

“Please, Zayne… I want you. Stop holding back. Please—please—do something.”

He lets out a sound you’ve never heard from him before, low and almost pained. His grip on the sheets falters. He reaches for you again, then stops himself. His whole body trembles.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he grits out, voice low and raw, like it’s been dragged over broken glass. He exhales sharply, trying to steady himself, to stay in control. “Just… just keep moving like that,” he murmurs, almost to himself now, eyes dark and desperate as they trace every shiver of your body. “That’s good, yeah? Feels good… hm?” He coos, trying to convince you.

But your hands slide up his chest, shaky and pleading, like you’re trying to ground yourself, or maybe just trying to pull him deeper into you.

“Please…” you sob, voice breaking apart. “Please, daddy…! oh god, I just— I just want more…” You’re just so desperate, you didn’t notice the title slip past your lips, you’re gasping now, barely able to hold your rhythm. “I need… need daddy.. to make me feel good, please…” You press your palms flat against his skin like it’ll make him understand, make him give in. “Please, daddy… I’ll take it, I can take it, just—please, please, please—“

His hands shoot back to your hips, no longer gentle; this time they claim you, fingers digging in with bruising certainty as he slams his hips upward, forcing himself so deep inside you it knocks the air from your lungs.

His cock drags in and out of you with a slick, punishing pace now, hips snapping upward with every moan you spill into his skin. You can hear his breath hitch, feel the tremble in his muscles as he keeps your hips in place.

Then, he spoke , low and guttural:

“Is this what you wanted from daddy?”

Another thrust, hard and deep, your hips pinned so tight to his you can barely breathe.

“Dirty girl… begging me to lose control… now look at you.”

His voice is wild, almost disbelieving, like he can’t believe what you’re doing to him; He groans, snapping his hips up again, deeper this time. You cry out, and his fingers flex around your hips, tightening as his composure frays.

“Say it.” His demanded. “Say you love this. Say you love when I fuck you like this.”

You sobbed, nodding, but he’s not satisfied.

“Louder.” A harsh, grinding thrust punctuates every word: “Say. It. Say. You. Needed. This.”

You cry out, “I needed this! Yes! Yes!” Your hips are locked in place by his iron grip, sweat-drenched and quivering, unable to do anything but take every relentless, brutal inch he gives you.

“Keep moaning,”he growls, thrusting up into you again. “Tell me to go harder. Beg for it.”

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅

He lets go of your hips, only for his arm to snake behind your back and pull you flushed again his chest, his other hand held your hips, grinding you down onto him, forcing you to take every erratic thrust.

Your hands moved to his shoulders, trying to prop yourself up, to get some space to breathe, but he uses both of his hands to take your wrists, keeping them held behind your back with just one as the other returned to your hips, keeping them in place.

Your body is trapped against him, wrists pinned behind your back, breasts crushed to his slick, heaving chest, and he’s thrusting up into you with a brutal rhythm, each movement so deep, so sharp, it feels like he’s splitting you open.

“Don’t you dare move,” he growls into your neck, voice broken and ragged, every word dripping with lust and frustration and need. “You begged for this. You wanted this.”

“You wanted me to fuck you like this,” he snarls, his teeth grazing the edge of your jaw, and then..

He bites.

A low, desperate growl leaves him as he sucks hard at your skin, marking you, claiming you, even as his hips slam up into you with relentless force. Each thrust jerks your body against his, and the sound of it, the wet slap of skin, his breathy curses in your ear, it fills the room.

“I’ve been so fucking careful with you,” he rasps, voice trembling, breaking, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Treated you like something soft… precious…”

He fucks up into you again, deeper now, his thighs shaking, abs clenching beneath your body as he holds you down and loses control inside you.

“But you wanted this.” Another thrust, harder than the last. “You wanted to be ruined.”

Your moan is nothing but a sob of pleasure.

“Say it,” he growls, snapping his hips up again, the head of his cock hitting your most sensitive spot so perfectly you cry out. “Tell me you wanted me like this.”

“I…! I wanted it,” you sob, head falling to his shoulder. “Daddy, I wanted.. want all of you. Please… don’t stop…!”

He shudders.

That’s the final crack in him.

His grip on your wrists tightens, the other hand clutching your ass so hard it stings as he fucks you like a man breaking apart, hips jerking, pace brutal and uneven, cock dragging against your walls with a slick, obscene sound that has you shaking in his arms.

“You feel how wet you are for me?” he growls, voice raw, biting at your ear now. “So fucking soaked.. dripping down my cock.. begging to be filled.”

He thrusts again, so deep you see stars, your body seizing as he groans your name like a prayer and a curse all at once.

“I’m not stopping,” he pants. “Not until I’ve fucked you so deep you’ll feel me for days. Not until I’ve ruined you for anyone else.”

His thrusts get faster and needy, like he’s chasing something he can’t reach, sweat sliding between your bodies, your skin slick against his as he loses himself in the wet, tight heat of you.

“Fuck—! fuck, you feel so fucking good!”

He’s unraveling now, hips twitching with every snap, his forehead pressed to your shoulder as his rhythm breaks down into stuttering, desperate thrusts.

“Mine,” he gasps again, lower now; “All of you. “Mine.”

[v0od0okat]

I'm finally free

[pestorik]

the effort i’m putting into azuls restaurant is a little insane even for me

[sprnklersplashes]

"taylor swift has only cancelled 0.8% of her shows in her entire career so chappell shoud-"

yeah and taylor's past four albums have been about how fame has dehumanised her and made her a borderline suicidal alcoholic who needs other people's validation to survive so yeah chappell should take as many breaks as she wants

[windsfavored]

i  have  headcanons  from  my  old  blog  queued  to  post  up  until  mid-december,  but  i'm  pretty  sure  i  never  got  around  to  writing  one  about  ren's  bodysuit?  (  because  i  spend  way  too  much  time  brainrotting  over  miniscule  details.  )

it's  made  of  a  sheer  /  semi-transparent  material,  hence  why  the  markings  tracing  his  body  are  visible  through  it.  they're  best  compared  to  ley  lines  —  in  the  sense  that  they're  a  network  of  elemental  energy  flowing  through  his  body,  hence  why  they  glow  when  ren  calls  upon  his  anemo.  (  think  of  them  almost  like  the  wires  inside  of  a  machine.  )  they  only  became  visible  after  dottore  unsealed  his  power;  scaramouche's  attire  was  entirely  opaque  and  kept  them  concealed.  even  so,  they  still  glowed  purple  beneath  his  clothing  whenever  he  used  electro.

it's  not  immediately  apparent,  but  most  of  ren's  bodysuit  is  actually  backless.  there's  an  opening  that  spans  roughly  below  his  shoulders  to  the  middle  of  his  back  —  that's  how  he  REMOVES  it.  there  are  no  buttons  or  zippers;  it's  a  stretchy  fabric,  kind  of  like  a  very  durable  spandex.  the  opening  also  allows  easier  access  to  what  i  like  to  call  his  usb  ports  —  or  the  places  where  he  was  plugged  into  his  robot,  which  effectively  serve  the  same  purpose.

[honeymoonsimmer]

sirena has been clinging on to any chance she can get to get more money and leave sulani behind, so when she gets a phone notification about a dating app, well.... 👀

[scirii]

yeah i watched the entirety of one piece in 2 months which must clearly symbolise my loyalty and commitment toward something i love. do you want me carnally

[husk-says-no]

Ansiedad y arrepentimiento al doble si cuentas que tengo ansiedad social y trastorno de ansiedad generalizado. Bueno, el TAG está diagnosticado y medicado, la ansiedad social no, pero enciérrame otros 30 minutos con un psicólogo y lo diagnosticará oficialmente.

Y precisamente había pensado en el italiano porque pareciéndose al español sería más fácil. Yeah, there's the portuguese too, but let's be real, Portuguese is a bad spoken spanish, and spanish is a terrible portuguese. If spanish and italian are siblings, spanish and portuguese are twins. It would be counterproductive.

Por lógica de parentezco también podría tratar de aprender alemán, puesto que reto a quién sea a mirarme a los ojos y decirme que el inglés y el alemán no son parientes. But then I read 18-letters-long words and I slowly back away.

Uf, lo sé. Tener ansiedad ya es jodido, pero cuando viene en dúo dinámico con el arrepentimiento y la autocrítica, eso no es un combo—es un jefe final emocional con música de violín triste de fondo.

Jajaja, no hace falta. Con esa frase ya tienes el diagnóstico firmado, sellado y bendecido por el mismísimo Freud. Pero hey, al menos estás enfrentándolo con humor, y eso ya es medio camino andado.

Portuguese and Spanish are like those chaotic twins in sitcoms who finish each other’s sentences but also slap each other with frying pans mid-conversation.

You try to learn one and the other kicks down the door like “Did you forget about ME, bitch?”

Definitely not the easy lane.

Tienes toda la razón. Inglés y alemán son primos que comparten raíces pero tomaron caminos muy distintos—uno se fue al bar y el otro se metió a una secta gramatical.

And that’s when you realize German isn’t a language—it’s Lego. You just keep adding blocks ‘til the sentence becomes a weapon.

No one needs that many consonants stacked like a linguistic Jenga tower.

You’re doin’ fine, honestly. You’re funny, self-aware, and swinging punches in three languages while actively drowning in stress soup. That’s impressive as hell.

[ticklystuff]

genshin has held me hostage for so long that i can clear abyss with six different teams without having to swap gear between characters

(all 24 builds under cut lol)

[sickwithemotion]

flex cup straight up made me feel violated to the point of a panic attack, never doing that again

[perplexities]

like not me and this man having eachother blocked on everything but we were cuddling on my couch last night :/

[chaotic-clueless]

Their idea of replacing women with literal objects is bc that’s how they see and treat women. As if women are not even human beings, just vessels for sex and all the housework they don’t want to do. Mommy machines. An invention that will inevitably degrade over time and be replaced, but this one won’t be mad when you bring in the hot, shiny new model. To not have to do the labor of forming an emotional connection, labor is done without complaint or request for help, and sex can never be denied. We all knew this was where the incels and MAGAts were headed. Are we really surprised?

[nanamisweetgirl]

🜼 ⋆ just freak choso bouncing his thigh while you’re sat on him, mind you, it’s a friends group car ride. — part 2

you weren’t even supposed to sit on his lap.

but the car’s packed, and your friend shouted “just sit on choso, he’s got space,” like it was no big deal.

and maybe it wasn’t.

until you felt the way his thigh flexed under you.

thick. warm. solid.

and positioned just right between your legs, pressing against the thin fabric of your little skirt, snug right under your clit.

you swallowed hard.

he smirked—barely—and placed a casual hand on your hip to “help you balance.”

but now? ten minutes into the drive?

his leg’s bouncing.

slow. steady. up and down in a rhythm that makes your breath stutter and your lashes flutter.

you shift your weight—innocently, maybe, maybe trying to get some relief—but it just makes it worse. your clit drags across the seam of your panties, the bounce sends a shiver through your spine, and suddenly your hands are gripping his forearm like it’s the only thing keeping you from screaming.

“you good?” one of your friends calls from the front.

you nod quickly, voice tight. “mhmm.”

choso doesn’t even look at you.

he just hums under his breath, hand squeezing your hip once. his thumb brushes low, close to the edge of your waistband.

his thigh bounces again and your jaw tightens as your thighs clamp.

he leans in slightly, mouth brushing your ear. no one else can hear it but you.

“you’re dripping,” he murmurs. “soak through these shorts and i will pull you onto my fingers, right here.”

you squirm, barely moving, hips twitching as another bounce sends a jolt right to your core. you’re biting your lip, eyes wide, pupils blown.

“aw,” he whispers again, lower now, “you can’t even grind properly with people watching?”

you grip his arm harder and feel his smile, his eyes still watching the road, still quiet. and then his thigh bounces harder. that’s when you almost lose it—your legs trembling, clit throbbing, body tensing like a live wire as your orgasm starts to rise. your lashes flutter. a soft gasp escapes.

but then his hand presses down on your thigh, stopping the bounce entirely.

you’re frozen. blinking. your mouth parted in betrayal.

he leans in again.

“you’ll wait,” he whispers. “good girls wait. and you wanna be good, don’t you?”

you have no choice but to nod, choso just left you shaky and ruined.

“then sit still,” he says, voice low and calm. “and if you come without permission, i’ll stuff my fingers in you the second we stop this car. front seat, back seat, doesn’t matter. you’ll cry in front of all of them.”

you don’t move the rest of the ride. not even a little.

part 2

[terrarium-of-mistakes]

Fair enough. I can get the same effect with a regular diary.

[kaitoru]

୨୧ thinking about your husband kento squirting for the first time.

squirting. desperate kento. rough sex. lowercase.

hes barely had a moment to touch you, let alone fuck you.

now, with a rare free night, hes making up for lost time thrusting into you like theres no tomorrow, his cock plunging deep each snap of his hips shaking the bedframe.

you’re clinging to him, thighs wrapped around his waist your moans echoing as he drives you both into a frenzy.

“god, i missed this,” he growls voice rough his abs flexing with every thrust, sweat glistening on his skin as he fucks you into the mattress.

“you're so—fuck—so perfect, taking me like this.” his words are jagged, spilling out between heavy breaths, and you can barely respond, your voice a broken whimper as he hits that spot deep inside, over and over, his cock thick inside you.

“kento—oh god,” you gasp nails raking down his back, and he groans low and primal, his thrusts growing erratic, like he’s chasing something he can’t name.

“missed you too,” you manage and it’s like you lit a fuse.

he leans down lips brushing your ear, his voice a gravelly whisper.

“been too long,” he says thrusting harder, deeper the wet sounds of your bodies obscene in the quiet room.

“needed you so bad, love—needed this.” his desperation is palpable each word punctuated by a slam of his hips, and you’re drowning in him, your pussy clenching around him as the pleasure builds, your breath hitching with every relentless push.

you’re close, so close, but its manami who breaks first, his thrusts falter, and then—holy shit—he squirts, a hot, wet rush that soaks your thighs, the bed, everything.

his eyes widen, a choked “f-fuck, what—” escaping as his body shudders, cock pulsing inside you as he comes, hard and messy, his usual control shattered.

you come too the shock and intensity tipping you over, your orgasm ripping through you as you cry out, clinging to his shoulders, your body shaking under his.

“did i just—shit, did that just happen?” yis cheeks flush, a rare crack in his composure, and you can’t help but laugh, breathless, your hands sliding to his face.

© 𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐪𝐩𝐮𝐟𝐟 | do not copy plagiarize or translate any of my works.