#Stretching routine for back flexibility

[iyiadebizz]

The Best Back Stretches for Flexibility: The Best Guide

Regular stretching can make your back more flexible and reduce muscle soreness by 15-30%1. It’s key to keep your spine healthy and avoid back pain. Doing both dynamic and static stretches can cut back pain by 40-50%1. This makes stretching a must-have in any workout plan. The thoracic spine has 12 vertebrae, which are less mobile than others1. Targeted stretching in 4 main muscle groups is vital…

[justalittlebluetiefling]

One coaching challenge I'm running into is that we have an 11th grader on the team who is incredibly advanced. Like, so far above everyone else's skill level it's unreal. And her goal is to dance at a D1 college, which means that I've been watching technique videos for the last two weeks (and I'm nowhere near done) to try and find anything to help her keep leveling up.

The bright side of this whole experience is that I have run into SO many helpful notes to give my intermediate dancers to make sure they keep progressing, too.

[holeforzenin]

Kento’s favorite position will always be fucking you in a mean mating press where he had your body forcefully folded in half by his, because there’s just something so raw and intimate about having your bodies and soft skin pressed up against each other in such a filthy manner. Both of your sweaty bodies melted into each other’s as he pounded you deeper and deeper into the soft mattress with such neediness and desperation. Every time he’d possessively thrust himself into you, it had the entire bed creaking and the mattress sinking lower and lower because of his overpowering strength and weight. It’s almost crazy how he’s practically crushing you with his muscular body. The way he’d manhandle you and bend your legs into your body was so inhuman and fucked up but obviously based on the countless times that he had wrecked your little pussy and stretched your tight walls soo widely to hug his cock in such an ideal way that was only meant for him, in that exact familiar routine of a position. You were very much used to it by now.

The way his damped, tousled blonde hair gently brushed against his chiseled face captured your attention—God he’s so beautiful, no renaissance painting could ever be compared to Kento's face. It was a literal masterpiece. God you couldn’t wait to start a family with this man because you already know you’d have the most cutest babies. He stared down at your fucked out expression that he fucking loved seeing so much, so pretty and alluring. All dumbed down and stupid just from his cock. It never fails to captivate his soul each time he's making love to you. He could stare at you for hours.

You weren’t the most flexible person but of course, Kento always managed to manipulate and manhandle your poor body effortlessly in whatever position that he desired. He’s not mean during sex but he’s definitely not the sweetest either, Especially after he returns home from a frustrating and tough day at work, his mind consumed with stress and pent-up desire and his cock twitching in his pants with heavy, thick balls filled with seed that he’s been storing up to stuff into you with, after he comes from work.

It wasn’t even a second after you greeted him, that honeyed tone in your voice humming his favorite tune, “Kentooo, you’re back!!”. Barely two minutes had passed and in the blink of an eye, you were trapped beneath his large, muscular frame with his aching, swollen length buried sooo deep between your tight walls. his mushroom tip kissing the tender, sensitive spots that made you soo mindlessly dumb, it had you forgetting about the little rule you had about no sex until he’s well fed after work because as his devoted housewife, you also labored diligently to prepare dinner for him.

What if it gets cold?!!

Well, Kento sure doesn’t give a fuck because he’s way too hungry for something else.

His black and yellow tie is loosely dangling over your face as the gentle waft of his minty cologne which you had sprayed on his chest earlier before he went to work, drifts in your nostrils, making your mind hazy and had your pussy pooling even more slick around his veiny shaft. “Good God, fuck this pussy is perfect darling, sooo perfect almost as perfect n pretty as you” his husky voice echoes with admiration, the outline of his bulging veins on his arms straining through his rolled-up sleeves, showcasing the raw strength he had as he gripped onto the sheets besides your head for sheer stability as his tired eyes—visible with exhaustion and teary, lazily stared into yours.

“Kento–“ you cried out, your nails digging into his beefy forearm as you looked up at him with pleading eyes that sent his cock throbbing embarrassingly. Fuck it took everything in him to restrain himself from not getting you pregnant with his kids right now.

“Yes, my love? Tell me what you need darling, m’here for you”. He whispered tenderly, he flashed a charming smile at you before placing a quick, affectionate kiss on your ankle that has been thumping against his huge shoulders the entire time as he ruts his hips into you animalistically.

“Missed you ken!, so so much” your heart beating with desire and love as his chest smushed your soft breasts against him. Beads of sweat glistening from his hairline, threatening to drip onto your face as you move your hands up to wrap them around his neck. A genuine smile spread across his face due to your performance of affection.

“Missed you too my love, God you were clouding my thoughts so much sweetheart, couldn’t stop thinking about you and this pretty little pussy today.” He confessed to you in his deep, sexy voice before smashing his soft lips onto yours. Your nails violently dug into his clothed back that was fortunately shielding him from the nasty, red marks you were plotting to leave. Both of you groaned into the kiss, your spit and saliva mincing together lewdly to the point where it was steeping out of your mouth. His swollen lips feverishly melded against yours, making it practically impossible for you to breathe but you didn’t mind one bit. It all just felt so delicious. His glossy, pink tip skillfully pokes against your sensitive g-spot, making your toes curl in your socks at how good he’s making you feel. God, he was so perfect. His huffs of golden, blond pubic hair tantalizingly grazed against your sticky clit— rubbing it unintentionally, making your pretty eyes roll to the back of your head as he assaulted your lips. your tongues now entwining and swirling together disgustingly. The kiss was so sweet and affectionate, it made your heart fluttered.

His grunts and moans filled the room like a symphony. it was nothing but music to your ears. Kento was perfect in every single way possible. He was such a man, not just any man. He's a gentleman, his masculine presence would be overwhelming for any soul that has never experienced what it'd be like to encounter a real man.

You’d do anything for him, you loved Kento in a particular way where it would be so fucking offensive to the person who founded feminism.

[honeytonedhottie]

how to be tea - honey's handbook⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🌟💞

this is a post that talks about all things beauty, wellness and confidence from the experience of a honey toned hottie. everything ik works cuz i do them myself to just be tea, to be raw, to be FABULOUS. im structuring this post with affirmations as the section titles because what u think and affirm is what you'll experience so thats just me tying LOA into this post...💬🎀

"MY SKIN IS ALWAYS SO GLOWY AND FLAWLESS" ;

skin cycling - skin cycling is basically a skincare routine that alternates between using active ingredients and resting the skin. my skin cycling routine goes like this (exfoliate -> brighten -> hydrate) with rest days where i need them.

i've found this to work really really well for me so if ur looking to try something solid def give this a try! remember, everyone is different so feel free to tailor it to ur needs and experiment to find what works for YOU.

subliminals - SUBLIMINALS are the best! i have a subliminal playlist that i play at night and i wake up looking absolutely FLAWLESS. im linking it right here. ik theres a lot of misconceptions and misinformation about subliminals so lemme give u guys a quick rundown...💬🎀

✨ a subliminal is an audio of affirmations layered with music or rain sounds. so you'd hear the rain sounds, white noise, whale noises etc but the affirmations would play and soak into ur subconscious like a sponge.

✨ subliminal work because they impress new beliefs onto your subconscious, and with the law of assumption, your reality shifts to match those beliefs. also because whatever u assume to be true is true so if u assume they work then they do and thats that.

✨ to make a subliminal work u dont have to do anything but assume. assume that it works. if ur listening to a subliminal and it says anything like "drink water to see results, only listen twice!" or anything like that u can just disregard it cuz thats bs.

"MY BODY IS SO TEAAA" ;

🌟 i workout about 3-4 times a week but on days that i dont work out i still stay active. staying active by going for a walk, jump roping, dancing or running and stretching.

🌟 my everyday workout routine ALWAYS starts by stretching. i'll either do a flexibility stretch or a mobility stretch in the morning and a stretch to relieve pain in my back before bed.

🌟 literally every workout that i do is from youtube, youtube WORKS, youtube is TEA. some days i'll do one long pilates workout and some days i'll target each part of my body with an individual workout. honestly it all depends on what i do and dont have time for.

"I HAVE HAIR TO MY ASS" ;

💕 scalp care is SO neglected and it's arguably one of the most important things to take care of. i oil my hair maybe 1-2x a week with rosemary, jamaican black castor oil, and peppermint. i’ll warm it up a little, massage it in with my fingertips (or that cute lil scalp massager thingy), and then slick it back in a loose ponytail with love.

💕 i sleep with a satin bonnet or pillowcase every night. no excuses. even if i’m tired. even if i’m sad. even if i’m sleeping over somewhere and feel awkward. i will protect the inches.

💕 also brush ur hair! its so important to increase blood flow therefore promote growth. i feel like such a princess every time i brush my hair before bed, and im so METICULOUS with this shit its really amazing.

"EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE IS PERFECT" ;

i try to meditate every singe day to kind of ground myself and just immerse myself in the end and it's great! since im not a very visual girlie i just talk to myself while i do this. even if im not consciously manifesting anything at the time just going inward and having a conversation (idk if this makes me sound crazy but it feels nice)

to ensure that everything in my life is perfect i always make sure i have an agenda for the day cuz im a very type A kind of girl so i like to know exactly what im doing when. i have goals to accomplish and things to do! so my time management is very top tier with my agenda. to keep myself on track i implement little things like :

👛 screen free mornings - i WILL get distracted and i'd just rather not

👛 social media detox every other week - lately tiktok has just been a cesspool of brain rot (and when i say brain rot im not referring to tung tung tung sahur) im referring to incessant bad news and im just NOT into that so i take a break for my mental health every other week. and i try to minimize the time i spend on social media platforms in general

"IM SO TALENTED" ;

i take my passions, and talents SO seriously. im a singer so i practice singing everyday. i'd also say im a rly multi-passionate person. i manage my girl blog, my magazine, i play piano, tennis, and i feel like im always working on a project! so i make sure to pour into myself in all aspects of my life, especially as a perfectionist. i wanna make sure every one of my passions has been poured into.

[yasministration]

mobility exercises - oliver wood

summary: oliver wood doesn't expect to walk onto the quidditch pitch to find the slytherin team finishing up their post workout stretches. nor does he expect to be flirted with by their captain wc: 1.3k+ cw: a little suggestive

“Okay, stretch all the way up, touch the sky - if you’re not feeling it in your muscles, you’re not trying hard enough… Now keeping your legs straight, bend down and touch the floor. Stretch those hamstrings. If it hurts too much, you can open your legs a little so you can lay your hands flat on the ground.”

When Oliver Wood booked the pitch after the Slytherin quidditch team, the last thing he expected to guide his team towards was a team post-practice stretching session, led by non other than the captain of the team herself. The captain who was weirdly flexible. Now, he and his team were staring with amused expressions and slacked jaws, unsure what to do.

“And now spread your legs a little,” A few members of your team cackled, but you promptly ignored them, “And fold your arms and just swing your torso from side to side. Let those shoulders relax.”

“That’s how they all stay so mobile then.” Commented Fred from next to Oliver, grinning. Oliver gulped, admiring as you instructed your team to sit down, stretching your legs as far to the side as possible and leaning forward to place your elbows on the ground in front of you, smiling as you watched your male teammates attempt to replicate your movements. “Do not bend your knees! Come on Draco, you’re thirteen! You should be more flexible than the rest of us.”

“Watch out Cap, Wood’s taking note of your stretching routine as we speak.” Your head snapped back toward the entrance of the quidditch pitch, eyebrows pinching together when you caught sight of the gryffindor team standing near the entrance. “What time is it?” You asked, pushing yourself up to your feet and sighing when Oliver took a few steps towards you. “It’s already 6.” You straightened up, bringing a hand up to rub over your face as you turned to face the Gryffindor captain. Clearing your throat, you avoided the eyes of the other gryffindor players, focusing on your classmate instead. “Would you mind if we just finished stretching while you guys warmed up? We’ll be like, seven minutes. Max.”

Oliver chuckled, his eyes fluttering behind you. “Yeah, sure. We don’t mind the free entertainment.” You followed his gaze, eyes hardening as you yelled “Knees, Draco!”

“It hurts!”

“Then don’t open your legs so wide!”

You turned back to face Oliver, grinning. “Thanks, Wood. We’ll be out by the time you guys begin tactics. Okay, butterfly!” Marcus immediately followed your order, folding his knees and pressing his feet together, fluttering his legs. The rest of your teammates mimicked the movement, groaning at the stretch in their limbs. You joined them on the grass, pushing your knees down as far as they could go.

A few meters away from you and your team, the Weasley twins both turned to face Oliver with matching expressions in their face. He glanced at them, face flushing as he mumbled “What?” “Since when do you let anyone on the pitch when you’ve booked it?” Pressed George, raising an eyebrow. “She asked nicely.” The twins hummed, entirely unconvinced, and Katie clapped a hand onto his shoulder. “If I remember correctly, you threatened to hex Davies last week, and he was being terribly kind too.”

“Start running laps around the pitch.”

They hadn’t gotten five minutes into their warmup when your team stood unanimously, grabbing your brooms and making your way to the changing rooms. You waved a hand at Oliver, and he smiled at you, huffing as he ran past you. You giggled quietly, pushing the door to the slytherin girls’ changing rooms. Luckily for you, being the only girl in the team had its perks, and you could take as long as you wanted to shower and get changed after practice, not having to worry about holding up the showers for everyone.

You took your time showering, lathering soap on your body and shampoo through your hair. The changing room was kept clean, the floors dry and cubicles empty after you put your things away. You did your hair routine before packing all your belongings in your heavy duffel bag, making sure not to forget your broom, lying abandoned on a bench.

When you finally left the changing room, you were surprised to see the entire Gryffindor team on the ground, chugging eagerly from their water bottles. You searched for Oliver in the small crowd, chewing on your bottom lip when you spotted him, jersey clinging onto his sweaty muscles, back flexing as he ran a hand through his hair. “Are you planning on stealing our tactics by ogling at Wood all day?” Your head snapped towards the sound of the teasing voice, eyes widening at the sight of the Weasley twins, who looked like they’d won the lottery. “You never know, I might be a legilimens.”

A call of your name had you spinning around, waving a hand up awkwardly at the sight of Oliver trotting towards you. “What are you still doing here? Your entire team left ages ago.”

“Making the most of the empty changing rooms. The showers here are so ridiculously spacious compared to our dorms, so I like to spoil myself a little.”

“It took you forty five minutes to shower?”

“Well, you know, I had to do my hair and stuff.”

“Sore muscles slowed you down, eh?”

You scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes. “Not sure if you saw, but I have some amazing stretches that make my muscles immune to soreness.”

“Does stretching actually do that?” Chimed in Harry, fully aware that he was interrupting some sort of chemistry happening between you and Oliver. Oliver broke eye contact with you to briefly glare at the younger boy, who smiled boyishly at him.

“Yeah. I’d offer to give you guys a little workshop, but, you know. I have to make sure slytherin has the most agile players at hogwarts.”

“Don’t worry. As long as Gryffindor has the fittest ones.” Fred winked at you, and you laughed. Oliver’s jaw clenched, and he cleared his throat. “You want Gryffindor to have the fittest players then get in your brooms. Break’s over.” Oliver’s strict tone made you swallow thickly, and you watched at his teammates begrudgingly complied. You were happy to see that Oliver stayed in front of you, watching you watch his team. “I’ll let you steal some of our tactics if you let me steal some of your mobility exercises.”

“Don’t worry about my tactics, Wood. But I can show you some mobility exercises any time. Just come find me.”

Oliver spluttered, face going red. You grinned eyes twinkling with mischief. You stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning your lips close to his ear. “And, I’m not so sure about gryffindor having the fittest players in general, but their captain is definitely the fittest player I’ve seen.” You pulled away just in time to see Olivers’s flustered face, mouth gaping in surprise.

Laughing quietly, you stepped away from him, spinning on your heels and announcing loudly “You know where to find me for those stretches, Wood!”

From the air, his teammates cheered loudly. Oliver squinted his eyes at you, glaring playfully when you glanced at him from over your shoulder. You knew this would distract his teammates for long enough to stray them off their practice schedule. To make up for it though, he tried getting his teammates to do stretches after practice.

Oliver stared at them, wincing as his muscles pulled uncomfortably. Neither he nor anyone else knew what they were doing.

“Go shower, maybe I really should ask about those stretches.” Oliver said the last bit of his sentence mostly to himself, but it brought the most reaction from his friends. Angelina winked as she passed him, echoing your past words “Yeah, you know where to find her, Wood.”

taglist:  @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @matcha-kitty13, @thenasoneshots, @slytherin-princess-x, @bxuzi, @rory-cakes, @dlljdhsh, @girlontheblock, @5sospenguinqueen, @bluebvrriee, @aouoo, @spider–girl, @fandomhoe101, @user010380, @simp-for-fiction, @selenewowww, @paytonluvxx, @sharkers00, @joonbread, @rhettsluvr, @gr1mesgirl, @iluvhrj

[wellhealthhub]

Unlocking the Benefits of Stretching Glutes: A Comprehensive Guide to Enhanced Flexibility and Performance

Discover the profound advantages of glute stretching for elevated flexibility, performance, and overall well-being. Explore effective techniques and expert insights in this extensive guide. Introduction In the pursuit of a healthier, more active lifestyle, the importance of proper muscle care and exercise cannot be overstated. Amid the landscape of muscle groups deserving attention, the glutes…

[readwritealldayallnight]

reader who is flexible / does yoga x simon who gets really flustered watching it? 👀

During those first few months of living together as flatmates, having gone from strangers who happened to have a friend in common to sharing a bedroom wall within 24 hours, you both learned a lot about each other

On your end, you learned that his presence in the flat was a rarity, gone for days if not weeks at a time before coming home. Even then, he usually was only back for short periods of time, most of it spent sleeping

You do discover that he’s an early riser however, much to your chagrin when the sound of his routine post workout shower wakes you up before the sun has ever risen

You learn that he’s a decent enough cook, but will always insist on helping in some way if he finds you in the kitchen working on something, no matter how simple or complicated the dish is

Over time you even find out how he prefers his tea in the morning and when you get the chance, try and surprise him with a warm drink waiting for him after his shower

When you know that he prefers to keep the flat a little cooler than you usually have it, you’ll turn the thermostat down a degree just before he comes home, just as he’s gotten into the habit of turning it back up for you on his way out, the gesture going unspoken between the two of you

Simon also learns a lot about you in the time since you’ve moved in

He learns all about your taste in music, a melody never not playing in the background of whichever room you’re occupying, often telling him the name of a song or artist you can tell he likes from the way his foot will tap or fingers will drum against his thigh

He discovers you’re a bit of a night owl, often hearing you in the kitchen baking some dessert or another at midnight, or talking on the phone with a friend. He never minds though. In one case he wakes up to sweet treats in the morning, and the other he gets to overhear your even sweeter voice chirping and giggling. And if one time a smile of his own graces his lips when he hears you telling your friend how you’re loving the new flat, and your flatmate “isn’t so bad on the eyes either”, then who’s complaining?

He finds out what your favourite take out food is, often surprising you with something on his return home, definitely not blushing under the mask if it earns him a hug or peck on the cheek as thanks

But one thing Simon learns about you early on, something that he thinks about not just at home but on base, in briefings, on missions, on helis and jets and trucks, is how part of your daily routine, is doing fucking yoga in the living room.

He’s been in countless situations most civilians could never even dream up, let alone withstand, and Simon under the mask that is Ghost always stays as cool and collected as any seasoned vet would

But seeing you in sweatpants, or leggings, or even worse when you’re wearing those shorts of yours, strolling into the living room with your yoga mat tucked under your arm, his pants instantly tighten every single time, knowing what’s to come (or rather who’s to c-)

Following along to your instructional video playing on the telly, paying him no mind as he sits in the adjoining kitchen as you bend into position after position, simply doing your nightly routine as you have for years now, unknowingly putting your flatmate through a torture he’s never endured before

Every time he’s lucky enough to witness you stretching your limbs, contorting your body into poses he couldn’t fathom doing himself, he finds his dreams that night filled with the very same images of you, though wearing far less clothing, and in his bed instead of a yoga mat, though he would take you anywhere let’s be honest

He always waits for you to finish your routine, be it a quick 15 minute stretch or a nearly hour long session, he remains and watches you until you leave, before he dares to stand with his arousal on full display through his pants, rushing to his room or bathroom to take care of business

He learns that he’s never felt more intense pleasure at his own hand than when he thinks of you, when he has has your face and body freshly imprinted on his mind as he finishes, imagining the heaven that it must be to have the real thing rather than his calloused fist

It’s interesting you see

You really like Simon, and you like when he’s home, like getting to know him and spend more time with him

And if you happen to learn that when you do your yoga routine out where he can see you, that he suddenly spends a lot more time in the flat than on base, coming home more and more often, no matter how short his stay is… well, who’s complaining?

[chrispower]

FLEXIBILITY

Chris doesn’t know you’ve been working on you’re flexibility

You’ve always been flexible. Ever since you were younger, you’ve gone through gymnastics leading you to be able to bend your body in many different ways. You lost your flexibility as quick as you gained it. Leading to now, you’re in your living room following a slow stretch routine for getting flexibility in your body once again.

You do lunges, pike fold, straddle, frog pose and all sorts of stretches pushing your body further each day. Something you’ve always thought about was what Chris would think if you could do the splits. It’s been on your mind since you guys first ever had sex.

To finish off your stretches you hold your front splits for 1 minute leaning forward, putting your nose to your knee. You continue stretching into your middle splits and laying chest flat on the floor before your phone pings. ‘Chris- Wanna come over? Matt and Nick aren’t home’

You smirk at his message before sending back a ‘yes’ and getting up to go change. You arrive at Chris’ house, checking your reflection in the mirror and fixing your hair and makeup before getting out of your car. You smile slightly to yourself as you get to his door, opening it up with the spare key he gave you

You close the door behind you and turn back to find Chris standing infront of you smiling. “Hi” you smile back at him, his hands find their place at your hips, “Hi” he smiles wider. You wrap your arms around his neck and stare up into his eyes.

His eyes shift from yours to your lips and back again. The subtle movement has your knees slightly weakening. You pull him in and collide your lips together. Your hand finds its way to his hair and gently tugs at it drawing a groan from his mouth. Chris’ hands slide up your waist to get a better grip of you.

With ease, he lifts you off your feet making you wrap your legs around his without breaking the kiss. His hands move down to grip your ass and his feet take you both to his room. He kicks the door shut and locks it before gently laying you on the bed. Your hands move to his neck, fingertips slightly pushing his head into yours.

You lean to your side and flip Chris over with you, leaving him lying on his back. You break the kiss and smile down at him, tucking a hair behind your ear. “Someone eager” He chuckles. You nod and bite your lip slowly grinding against him. He groans, throwing his head back against the headboard and digging his fingers into you.

You shuffle on top of him, pulling down his pants with his boxers leaving them at his knees. You bring his tip to your entrance beneath your skirt and slowly sink down onto him with a moan. “Fuck” He curses at the feeling of you sucking him in. You whine, starting to move your hips back and forth once again.

Your hands move to his chest and you lean forward slightly. Your legs on either side of him straighten out so you are in a split on top of Chris. His eyes go wide and he lets out a moan at the sight. “Y/n, fuck, you’re killing me” You slightly start to bounce up and down on his length, his hands helping you up. “Chris” You moan.

“I know baby— shit— you shouldn’t done this sooner, god” He fucks his hips up to meet yours leaving your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your back slightly arching. Chris sees this as the chance to take over, he flips you over and pushes your legs down against the bed leaving you in a wider split. He continues his fast paced thrusts as you grip the pillows behind you.

Your mouth drops into an ‘O’ and your eyes turn white. “I didn’t think you could get any sexier, and now— fuck— you’re bendy, my little fuck doll yeah?” He asks, voice low and filled with lust. You whine and arch your back off the bed. “Use your words” He says, watching your body convulse beneath him. “Y-ye-es” You attempt to speak out.

“Atta girl” Chris praises. “I’m, g-gonna—” “Go on princess, let go” You didn’t have to be told twice. The moment Chris opened his mouth your body is squirming and shaking beneath him as you release with a loud moan of curses and his name. He drops his head to your shoulder and continues thrusting up into you letting you ride out your high.

He places small gentle kisses on your shoulder before releasing within you and pulling out. “That was honestly the hottest thing I’ve ever seen” He pants out against you. You let out a breathy laugh with a nod of acknowledgment. “Well it took too long to get to not be hot” Chris smirks at you and pulls you against him, stroking gentle circles on your back.

“so is EVERY part of your body flexible?”

🏷️ @mattscoquette @theyluvivi @leisturni @courta13 @strnilolover @y2kstarr @sophsturns @bamsblooming @alexturnersgooch @madisonswift91 @sophand4n4

[jollyhunter]

24 Kinky Days with Dean x reader - Day 22.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW - MDNI! - includes explicit sexual content, Dean being naughty and goofy, teasing, praise kink, bit of fingering, a lil' spankin', biting, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it before u tap it!), softdom!Dean, Dean guiding you through a new s♡x-position, fluff, aftercare and also there's pizza (yes, that's a warning) - no use of Y/N - there's probably more so just let me know if I missed something - English is not my native language and I’m dead on my feet Contains brief reference to Dec.9 (Whip Stroke) and Dec. 16 (Roll Over Rule)

Summary: Your ideas of 'self-care' couldn't be more contradicting: Dean's craddling a pillow and munching on his cold pizza, while you go through your yoga routine next to the motel bed. The entire time he's watching you stretch and bend and arch your back with lingering eyes... until he decides you've had enough yoga. Time for a 'fun way' to relax.

Words: ~6,500 (yeah, I know, prepare for a lot of teasing, but it'll pay off)

Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! Let me know in the comments what your favorite part was! <3 A/N: At this rate, I give up on the order of the prompts / days. 🥲 But I definitely want to complete the challenge! (Sorry for the long wait y'all!)

22nd Dec. - Yoga, Kama Sutra - potato, potahto

“Of course pizza beats yoga.” Dean scoffs, his eyebrows pinched together with a lazy shake of his head in disbelief. Like the audacity of you even questioning the superiority of fast food? Unbelievable.

“But- how can you even compare the two? That’s junk food. And this is like…” You think for a moment until you remember the right term, “Self-care. You should try it once.” You try to argue in hopes that this conversion might still turn to your favour. But you know you’re pulling on threads by now.

“Oh I do self-care.” He retorts gruffly, his eyes flickering down at you. And to proof his point, he stuffs a big bite of pizza into his mouth, munching on it while he continues, his words halfway muffled, “Food and beer’s my self-care, baby.”

“But-” You groan with a roll of your eyes but stop yourself there. If that man wasn’t halfway as fit as he is, you’d at least still have the trump card of health factor left. But truth be told, despite that, you didn’t have any more arguments, and you both knew it.

So in Dean’s eyes that settled it. His way of self-care is superior to yours. End of discussion.

His focus shifts back to his pizza and the old TV boxed in by a pair of wooden chairs. The smell of cold junk food mingles with the musty carpet that's infiltrating your nostrils everytime you get a bit closer to the floor. Gratefully the sweet cinnamon smell of one of those Christmas candles you had lit the moment you returned to your room, covers up most of the motels stale stench.

After Dean has been channel zapping through various Christmas movies, he finally gave in and tossed the remote control aside on the bed. The TV is running some ads in the background now and Dean is on his stomach stuffing his face with pizza, while you are on the ground next to the motel bed, doing your yoga session on a mat. "To relax," as you had explained to him. "Desperately needed after this case had turned out to be a damn goose chase all along." You added. And on top of that, the hard mattress you had to put up with for the past week did little to ease your bad mood or aching back pain.

By now, Dean had become used to your sporadic yoga sessions whenever time allowed it. Although it was still a mystery to him how this ‘weird hippie stuff’ was in any way relaxing to you, he always enjoyed watching you. And he’d made it a habit of his own to comment with a lick over his lips – perhaps even a low, appreciative whistle – and shamelessly lustful eyes taking in every detail of your body as you’re going through your routine, “Have I ever told you how lucky I am? Like jesus – you’re so fuckin’ flexible. Like some friggin’ contortionist. I bet you can even hook your foot behind your head.”

So, naturally, Dean isn’t really paying any attention to the TV. Even though the intro sequence of “Die Hard”, one of his favourite movies, is now playing.

As always his eyes are lingering on your stretchy outfit and how tightly your favourite colour wraps your body, highlighting every curve of yours, no matter where. The thin shimmer of sweat on your exposed skin and the way you seemed so in control and at the same time at peace. To him it felt like a big contrast to the moments of action where you’d cut down a vamp or plunge a stake through a pagan’s ribcage, your movements quick, precise and face and clothings always covered in the red aftermath.

He takes another bite of the pizza, attempting to distract himself, but his gaze keeps drifting back to you. Your rear in the air now as you switch into the Downward Dog pose. The soft moans and heavy breaths that slip your lips makes him chew slower. His mind now imagining you arching your body in other ways rather than yoga moves, while moaning his name and – Damnit, Winchester, get your mind out of the gutter.

“You having fun up there?” Your teasing voice rips right through his rather explicit picture of him going through some yoga poses with you at his mercy and he almost chokes on the mouthful of pizza. He forces it down with a swig of beer, while he gathers his thoughts sufficiently to reply with a cocky smirk, “Just enjoying the view.”

“Of course you do.” You roll your eyes but can’t help a soft chuckle before you switch to another pose.

From the corner of his eyes, he watches how you effortlessly stretch your legs apart just to roll over onto your stomach where you continue with propping yourself up on your hands, arching your back and then tipping your head back while pressing your stomach into the mat.

“Tell ya what,” he suddenly speaks up before he interrupts himself, stuffing the rest of the pizza crust into his mouth and swallowing it down. “You could probably do the whole Kama Sutra without breaking a sweat.”

You hold the Cobra pose when your chest briefly heaves from the huff that slipped your nose. “Horn dog.”

“Yoga, Kama Sutra – potato, potahto.” He snorts with a mocking tone, clearly starting to get annoyed from his fruitless efforts to distract you so far.

He shifts on the bed, propping his head up on the pillow in the crook of his arm to get a new angle on your curves. After watching you for a moment, he decides it’s time for a new approach.

He clears his throat before he muses in a sultry tone, “There’s also better ways to relax than yoga.”

While he licks his greasy fingers clean, he can’t help but appreciate the way the tight fabric of your yoga pants stretch over your curves again.

Still playing deaf, huh? A playful Cheshire smile forms on his lips when he finishes to suck his last digit with a obscene pop. He then continues in a demanding voice, “C’mere.”

“I’m not done yet.” You reply curtly, muffled slightly by the mat, your head now dropped down with your forehead resting on your folded hands.

He lets out an amused hum, “Oh yes you are.”

Within seconds he rolls off the motel bed to move on top of you, straddling your thighs and pressing down on you, pinning you against the mat.

You let out a surprised gasp, “Dean!”

But the only response you get is a cheeky “Heh-heh”.

When you feel his warm hands cup your butt cheeks and starting to squeeze and massage them, you lift your head to glance back over your shoulder at him. You give him your warning ‘seriously now?’ look, which he just deflects with a mock-innocent grin of his that said ‘what?’.

The way his palms squeeze firmly against your butt cheeks makes him let out a low satisfied hum in his throat. One hand moves to rest next to your head, supporting him as he leans down. His breath’s hot against your ear when he mutters, “This’ a lot more fun than that bullshit yoga.”

You want to bite back with a snarky comment about it not being bullshit at all – but your thought gets cancelled the moment his lips brush over the sensitive skin behind your earlobe, tracing a path of open mouthed kisses along the side of your neck. You let out a low shuddering breath, instinctively tilting your head for him.

But then a waft of his junk-food-slash-beer-laced breath hits your face and it instantly makes your nose scrunch up in a cute fashion.

“De, you smell like a dumpster.” You chuckle and reach with your hand over your shoulder to playfully shove his face away.

“Oh yeah?” He retorts with a smirk. Meanwhile his free hand snakes to the inside of your thighs, tight fingers sliding up under the stretchy fabric of your yoga shorts.

“Huh… only one way to solve it.” He mutters before he nips at your hand which had been pushing his face, giving the tip of your middle finger a short sharp bite that makes you gasp and immediately pull away.

He chuckles at your reaction and then straightens up to sit back on your legs. He inches further down to your calves, his eyes darting from his fingers wiggling under your short pants, up to your face again with a smirk on his lips. “I know what you’re thinking, sweetheart…”

Your anticipation’s building quickly. Feeling his fingers tracing so teasingly along the rim of your panties made the heat pool in your stomach and your mind throw all other plans for your remaining yoga session out the backdoor. And he damn well knew it the moment he brushed against the damp stain in the centre of your thin patch of fabric.

But then you let out a frustrated huff. He’d suddenly pulled his hand from between your legs to pat your ass with it, his glinting emerald eyes never leaving yours as he continues with a drawled “Nuh-uh.”

Then he leans over to the bed, his hand sliding into the pizza box where he fishes a remaining slice out. “Open wide.” He orders with a grin as he reaches with his hand over your shoulder. There he prods the tip of the pizza slice against your cheek, “C’mon, down the hatch. Commit a sin for me.” He quips with a feigned serious tone.

When you still look at him with that expression of befuddlement, he chuckles, his grin widening, “Take a bite, sunshine. Your breath’s my breath.”

You’re torn between being turned on by his words in some dirty twisted way and being utterly amused by them. It’s not like you were on a diet – heck, you sometimes eat so much junk food with all the cheap diners you’d hit every day on the road, it was a damn miracle you hadn’t gained weight yet.

“C’mon, Say aaaah.” He hums, still grinning from ear to ear as he prods the pizza slice against your lips.

After an amused snort, you can’t help but crack a grin of your own, “You’re a silly man, Winchester, you know that?” You finally give in and open your mouth enough to take a bite of the cold salami pizza.

“Yeah, but I’m your silly man.” He replies as he discards the pizza slice back into the box.

You swallow the bite down when his finger swipes over your bottom lip to clean away a streak of tomato sauce. His eyes follow his thumb’s movement, his touch gentle but the expression on his face more mischievous when he watches the tip of your tongue licking out to chase his finger to catch the bit of sauce.

You hold each other’s intense gazes, eyes darkened with something more. The sudden shift in atmosphere had you both still in your movements, taking in how the air between you had suddenly charged up.

Dean finally can’t take the tension any more and lets out a low growl from the back of his throat. He withdraws his finger, before giving your cheek a soft pat. “There’s my good girl.”

Your lips curl into a proud smile at his praise, “Only for you.”

A soft chuckle slips over his lips as he straightens up to sit back on your thighs again. His hands run down your back until they wrap around your hips, fingers trailing the hem of your yoga shorts. He hooks his fingers into the elastic band, slowly starting to pull them over your butt cheeks.

Your breath hitches when the cold air makes contact with your exposed rear. Next moment you feel his teeth dig into the soft flesh of your left bum cheek which triggers a short surprised yelp of yours.

“It was just too tempting.” He chuckles against your skin before he lets go of your butt with a wet-smooch to the red mark and straightens up again.

He pats the spot where he’d just claimed you, with his hand, “Lift up your hips, sweetheart.”

As you wiggle underneath him, he gets up on his knees, his weight now lifted off you to aid you with it. He leans forward to get a better hold on the fabric to properly pull the yoga pants along your panties down towards your knees.

“There we go… Now hold still for me, sunshine…” He mutters while his hands move along your skin.

A shiver runs through your body as you feel the only thing between you and him being taken from you, how you feel the fabric brush down your legs until you are completely exposed for him. Exposed and at his mercy. And damn it made your breath hitch from feeling vulnerable, as much as excitement.

After his hands had traveled further down, taking your pants and underwear with him, he discarded the redundant pieces of clothing to the side.

Finally satisfied, Dean slides down your legs again until he’s sitting on your calves, his hands on the back of your thighs. “Now where was my good girl’s cute little butt again.” He comments as he gently palms the soft globes of your cheeks with his smile never leaving his lips.

You groan softly and your eyes flutter closed, your body practically melting into the yoga mat under his touch.

“Oh, right, there it is.” He squeezes, his large hands massaging the flesh before he suddenly gives you a firm spank.

“Jesus-!” You yelp up at the unexpected sharp smack, your eyes wide open now as you whip your head to the side to stare back at him.

“Hey, you’re in prime spanking position here. What am I supposed to do, just admire the view and do nuthin’?” He mutters behind a teasing chuckle, his green eyes glued to the spot on your butt that was now slowly turning a light shade of red where his palm had hit you. “Plus, I know ya like it. Or you want me to get out the leather crop and remind you of our spankin’ session last week?”

Your thighs twitch involuntarily at the reminder of that evening. And the heat in your core is tingling from the vivid memory of that sweet-burning sensation that had taken over your body every time the leather smacked down on your skin.

“Guilty as charged.” You mutter while you have to force a moan back down your throat.

Dean’s lips curl into a cocky grin, “Knew it.”

You playfully narrow your eyes at him as you glance back over your shoulder to keep an eye on his sinful hand. But Dean stays unperturbed, if anything, your warning look just spurs him on even more.

“That’s for looking too damn good in those tight-ass yoga leggings.” He continues, giving your butt another firm slap before he reaches between your legs and your breath catches in your throat. His thumb traces the outline of your dripping folds, “And this-” His fingertips just graze over your centre, “That’s for being my good girl.”

He takes a moment to enjoy your gasp and how your head had dropped to the mat, your breath shaky already. His tongue darts out to lick his lips before he orders in a more gravelly tone, “Now be a good girl and spread your legs for me. I need to taste you.”

A shuddering exhale leaves your mouth, followed by a curse that luckily gets swallowed by the yoga mat you’re breathing into. You bend your knees slightly outward, as far as his hips pinning down your calves allow you to go.

“That’s it sweetheart…” He murmurs before his large hands grab the inside of your thighs, guiding your legs to part even further while his head slowly starts to sink down between them.

Your thighs begin to shiver from his warm breath hitting your soaked slit, desperately begging for his attention. Your hands blindly search for the edge of the mat, your fingers clutching it on each side as you prepare for him to dig into you.

Dean of course notices your anticipation and can’t miss the chance to comment on it.

“You’re gonna grab that mat nice and tight for me, sunshine. And you’re gonna hold still, keep those legs spread, and stay nice and quiet.” He instructs, his tone taking on a more commanding one, but still with a mischievous edge to it.

He then lowers his eyes again to admire the slick flesh between your legs where your folds are already parted, practically gleaming in the dim light of the motel room.

“Damn, look at you all nice and wet and open for me.”

Dean shifts his weight to brace his left elbow on the floor next to your hip, the other hand splayed out on the small of your back to hold you in place.

“You’re like a damn waterfall already, sunshine.” He murmurs in awe. The way your body reacts to him never ceases to fascinate him. He leans in, and you feel his hot breath coming in short puffs as he places a gentle kiss on your hooded clit, before he pulls back again.

As you immediately lift and tilt your head to look at him, he lets out an amused hum, “Now now, head down, sweetheart. Remember, yoga’s about relaxing and focusing on your body.”

“Smartass.” you manage to groan out.

“Eatsass.” he corrects you and before you get to be smart with him again, he proofs his point by suddenly parting your slick folds with his tongue, drawing it all the way up until he pulls it back into his mouth with a smack of his lips.

A low moan ripples through your chest, finally feeling that long desired friction that has you melt into a puddle of a blubbering mess. “Please- Dean- don’t stop- I need more- please-”

He grins at your pleading words and dives right back in. Licking, prodding, tongue lapping across your glistening folds, drinking your juice like its the only thing that keeps him sane. He moves up, his tongue circling your clit before he wraps his lips around it. Your legs suddenly tense up and a pathetic mewling-yelp erupts from your parted lips when he starts to suck at your bud like he’s finishing off a flurry through a thin straw.

Your hips jerk back and involuntarily try to pull away from the onslaught. But in vain as his large palm presses down on the small of your back to keep you in place and in reaction to your attempted escape, he just increases the borderline painful pull on your clit even more.

The foam gives in under your clawing fingers, feeling yourself near your climax. You’re close to a scream - until he finally loosens his grip around your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re relieved and frustrated at the same time. Your clit’s now swollen and overstimulated and oh so close to pop you off the edge.

“P-please…” you whimper and turn your head to the side against the mat to be able to look back at him, “De… please – I-… I’m so close-”

“You want to come on my face… or my fingers, hm?” Dean hums with a cocky sound to it.

“Both- anything- please,” you beg now, your chest heaving under the weight of your body, your breaths grown ragged and heavy.

“Such a greedy little thing,” he growls, his tone laced with pride, knowing exactly that he can always drive you mad with need if he wants to.

He shifts his weight, his chest resting between your legs and his free hand snaking over your thigh to join him. His fingertips reach between your legs, running through the folds, as he lets his finger circle around your entrance for a moment. At your muffled whimper, he effortlessly pushes his middle finger inside. “But first, I wanna see if I can make those legs of yours quiver from just one finger…” Dean states, his tone low with a raspier edge, and darkened eyes fixed on your dripping hole.

You gasp at his words, his gravel tone sending a shiver down your spine. But after a moment of enduring his finger’s tantalizing strokes, your patience snaps and you regain your voice.

“Oh fuck you.” you groan in protest, your teeth clenched from frustration. One finger after all this teasing? This was just pure torture now and he knew it.

“What? You want me to go in full house?” He chuckles knowingly, enjoying your worn down patience way too much for your liking, “Want me knuckles deep inside you again, is that it?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, but instead quickly jams his index finger inside you, pumping them both in and out while his lips enclose around your clit once more.

You don’t even have the time to gasp for air when you feel your walls clenching and gripping onto his curling fingers. A few seconds of intense onslaught of his is enough to send you flying over the edge with a loud guttural moan. Your nails dig into the mat, your legs are shaking and your walls fluttering around his fingers while he helps you ride out your height.

Once you fall limp and try to catch your breath, Dean slowly withdraws his two fingers to raise them to his mouth and suck them clean. He grins, wiping his face with the back of his hand before his tongue swipes over his lips, kingly as he does so, savouring every last drop of your taste.

He shifts on top of you to move a hand next to your waist on each side, leaning down to grab the hooks of your sports bra between his teeth. With a swift tug, it falls open and he leans in to kiss you between your shoulder blades. You let out a low hum, enjoying the soft affection with eyes fluttered close. He moves again to gently tug the last piece of clothing over your shoulders and arms until he flings it over his shoulder, where it lands next to your other things.

You feel the rough fabric of his shirt graze your skin, and the buckle of his belt makes you shiver when it lowers down on the nape of your back. Just below it, the growing bulge behind his jeans rubs against your butt when he rolls his hips against you.

“You feel how hard I am just because of you?” He murmurs against your skin, the words almost lost in a stifled groan. But you still answer with a low confirming hum. He continues to plant kisses along your back, taking his time to explore every single inch. His lips send small shivers down your spine and all the way to your core again, each one of them like a spark along your fuse.

“Babe?” He mutters between hot kisses lining up to your ear now.

“Mh?” You hum into the yoga mat while tilting your head slightly for him.

“You ever heard of the elephant position?” He asks innocently.

The what? That name earns him a surprised giggle of yours. It was nothing unusual that Dean would randomly hit you up with some sex-position he’d like to try out with you, but this one was a new one to you. “Are you seriously talking about how elephants mate? Or are you trying to impress me with the yoga pose?” You tease him. Clearly he wasn’t talking about the latter. “Or, let me guess, it’s a Kama Sutra thing.”

He plants another open-mouthed kiss right under your ear, “Mmm-hm,” and his throat rumbles against your neck, his lips lingering there for a moment while he murmurs, “That… Ever tried it?”

With the side of his face he nudges your head further aside before he dives down to take the skin of your neck gently between his teeth, pinching it enough to make you gasp.

At his question, though, you look a bit sheepish and you shake your head, “No… is it… good?”

Dean beams at your admission – he simply loves it whenever he can show you something new, especially when he knows how much pleasure it’ll bring you.

He perks his head up like an excited dog, “Oh you’ll love it, baby. I promise. It hits all your super-sensitive spots.” He leans back in to nibble on the soft flesh of your neck before he continues in an eager tone. “You wanna try it?”

“Uh,” you lift your head now to glance back, meeting his glinting green eyes above his wide smile. Your lips curl upwards at the sight of his excitement and you respond, “Yeah, will you, uh, will you show me?”

“Of course, baby.” He leans back to lower his hips on your thighs again, his eyes raking up and down your buck naked body. “I need you to stay just like this- uh – whatever pose this is.”

You chuckle and raise yourself on your elbows. “The sphinx.”

“Yeah, right, okay, sphinx.” He mutters and pushes himself off you for a second, “Stay. Don’t move.”

He reaches for his belt buckle, the sound of the metal clinking while he unbuttons his jeans and slides the denim along his boxers off his hips. The heavy, worn jeans quickly land somewhere next to your yoga outfit, and his shirt follows seconds after.

“Yeah, that’s better.” He mutters to himself before climbing on top of you again, his knees straddling your legs as he lowers himself down. He runs his hands up and down your sides, his firm pecs brushing against your back. “’M not crushing you, am I?” He asks, his tone softer for a moment.

“No, all good. Don’t worry.” You reassure him before you angle your shoulders to nuzzle your nose against his jawline, feeling the scruff prickle your skin.

“Good.” He nuzzles back into your neck, hands trailing down your arms, “Mmmh… you’re so soft, sunshine.” His hands continue their path until they wrap around your wrists and guide your arms up just slightly above your head as your chest slowly lowers back down. He places them there before he murmurs against your ear, “Keep them there for me, baby, keep them right where I can reach them, yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nod and suddenly become aware of the way the tip of his erection brushes against your inner thighs every time he moves.

“Just wanna make sure I know where those hands are.” Dean chuckles and purposely bucks his hips so that his swollen head briefly kisses your entrance.

His hands slowly glide up the inside of your arm, fingertips ghosting over your twitching skin. He brushes them underneath you, hands up the front of your chest, cupping your breasts and slowly kneading the soft flesh in his palms, “Can’t have you squirming and fighting against me while I’m trying to make you feel good, y’know.”

You arch into his hands, needy little sounds of pleasure dripping off your lips. Your core’s burning again, begging to be taken care of.

“I know baby, I know…” he coos between tender kisses, and in spite of his chapped lips, he caresses your shivering skin with soft love letters.

“Dean- please- I-” you start to plead, your voice bouncing off the pink foam you’re panting against.

But Dean finishes for you with his voice dropped to a rougher octave, while still trying to sound soothing for you, “You just want me to pound you mindless into that damn mat… I know… and I can’t wait to make you cry, sunshine… Gonna make you scream my name so loud, the folks at the front desk will hear it and think there’s a whole exorcism going on or somethin’… But first you need a lil’ patience, sweetheart… alright?”

The question was of course rhetorical. Once your boyfriend has his mind set on something, he’ll pull through with it. Or at least that’s how he’d like to describe himself. You of course know that you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger whenever you really want.

“It’ll be worth it, I promise… I’ll make sure you come so hard, you’ll be seeing nuthin’ but stars for a whole minute.” He adds while he withdraws one hand to palm his erection before he lines up behind you.

“But first… I gotta pump your tight bands of muscles up… the ones closest to your sweet, drippin’ entrance– ” He begins to explain but gets interrupted when he pulls a gasp from your lips, thanks to him suddenly biting down on your shoulder.

His words come out slightly muffled as he continues with a growl, “… get them hot ‘n aroused ‘n sore from all my undivided attention… I want you to come just from my cock inside you.”

You feel his tip tease your entrance, circling it but never pushing in like he’s waiting for the right moment. His feet then dip beneath your legs, before his calves and heels press against your thighs to keep them clamped together. “That’s it… keep ‘em nice ‘n tight.” He husks somewhere behind you while he rocks his hips again. His warm breath’s skimming over your sweat-dampened skin sending shivers of goosebumps in its wake.

Once you’re just in perfect position for him, he finally pushes his cock inside you in one smooth motion which draws a low guttural moan out of your throat.

For the next minutes, Dean does as he explained, taking his sweet time to build up your tension at just the right spots.

He pulls the ridged-band along your slick, clenching walls, slow and ordaining. When he feels you twitch, he knows he’s found just the right spot. With deliberate rolling motions of his hips he begins to push and pull the head of his cock along your g-spot.

Your face drops to the mat, a shaky breath rippling out of your throat when you feel him graze your insides. His slow motions are torturous and unbelievably pleasurable at the same time.

His strong thighs bind yours between his own while he increases the friction, now rutting his swollen tip against your tightly grasping entrance.

“You feel that baby?” He whispers huskily, his lips right next to your ear-shell.

“Y-yeah,” you answer weakly, your breath slowly picking up pace to match his hips new rhythm.

Once he notices your entrance shimmy around his shaft, he knows he’s got you just where he wants you. He swiftly pulls his length out, earning himself a frustrated whimper of yours.

“No- no please, don’t stop-” You start to plead but before you know it, he pushes back in. This time without holding any inch back.

“You did so well, being so patient for me…” He begins to mutter against your hair, “I’ll take care of you now. Let go and just feel me, sunshine.”

You groan, arch your back and raise your chest off the floor, holding yourself upright with your elbows. But you quickly notice it’s in fact, Dean, who’s keeping you from collapsing back into your pink mat.

He had his arm wrapped around your torso, pulling your back close to his chest. His large palm slides along your body until it wraps around your soft, plump flesh to cup one of your breasts, your nipple teasingly pinched between his thumb and index finger. He supports you both on his free hand pressed into the foam, the muscles of his biceps flexing relentlessly from the force of his movements.

All the while he keeps snapping his hips against your bum with precise thrusts, each time taking your breath as he meets your cervix. Each collision eliciting a twinge, like a sweet hurt that has your pupils dive under your eyelids.

He switches his supporting arm, the freed hand roaming every part of your body like he’s exploring and worshipping it at the same time. His large palm comes to rest on your ass, splayed out on your soft flesh. Then you feel him slip out of you, shifting his position as he puts some of his weight on your ass now to hold you down when he begins to pound you into the mat again.

“Oh fuck-” The new angle draws a surprised yelp from you.

But Dean quickly comes to soothe you with open mouthed kisses dancing up your spine, his teeth skimming your skin and his lips tasting the sheen of sweat clinging to your body. Arrived at the nape of your neck, he husks out, “Good girl, takin’ every inch of me… lettin’ me fill ya up all the way…” his voice drifts off when his tongue darts out to lick the sensitive spot behind your ears, sending another shiver down your back.

The new pace of his hips is slower but no less intense. He continues to slam his cock past your slick folds, pulling out almost entirely before he rocks his hipbones back into your cheeks. Over and over, each time all the way to the shaft’s base, drawing those guttural moans from your sweet lips which make him growl with pride.

He rasps out groans and praises against your neck, each spurring you on equally, “You’re taking me so well, baby- Fuck- so good for me… my good girl… bein’ so, so perfect, only for me…”

Your moans grow more desperate, breathless, feeling his cock harden against your soft walls. “D-Dean-,” you whimper as your head briefly lolls back to lean into his shoulder just before it drops forward again with a loud shuddering moan sparked by your core.

Your hands start fisting into the crappy motel rug, pulling at the loose threads of it as you desperately search for something to hold onto. Your frantic actions don’t go unnoticed by Dean who’s watching your every hitch in breath and twitch of your muscles, always making sure he doesn’t miss the signs that the pain’s still pleasurable to you.

He quickly shifts his weight as his hand on your ass darts over to your clawing fingers, doing the same with his other. He untangles your fingers from the fabrics, intertwining them with his own while his forearms come to join yours on the pink foam, supporting himself on both elbows now.

He can feel your legs tremble against the weight of his hips, which he uses to plough you into the yoga mat as he slams into you. His movements now erratic and rough. Squelching sounds mix with your combined moaning and panting. Driving each other closer to the edge with every sound.

“Y-you close, baby?” He growls against your ear, already knowing the answer. He can feel your fluttering walls gripping him tightly, “Fuck-” he groans, his hands squeezing yours and pinning them there when your body starts to buckle and shudder beneath him. He’s now driving his cock inside you with primal need.

“Oh God-” you whine, face pressed flush into the foam as you feel the knot in your belly tighten up and your muscles go tense.

“F-fuck yeah- that’s it- squeeze and come on my cock, come for me-” He growls, his voice dropped to a gravelly, rumbling tone. He runs his nose along your neck, across the trail of red marks, when he suddenly sinks his teeth into your flesh once more.

And that does it for you. Your knot explodes into waves of pleasure rippling through your body. Stars take over your vision when you scream his name. Your walls flutter around his cock, pulling him over the edge along you and coating your walls with his warm seeds. The climax keeps crashing down on you in multiple shock waves until your body finally falls limp, your limbs twitching as if you’d been struck by a lightning bolt.

Dean collapses on top of you, his breath ragged and hot as it wafts against your sweaty skin. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, his biceps just barely able to keep his body from completely burying you under his weight.

“Damn… that- wow…” You whisper breathlessly, still trying to regain your vision and collect your thoughts.

“You were amazing, baby.” Dean praises you with a hoarse voice, his lips lingering on your temple.

You tilt your head to catch his lips in a soft, but purposeful kiss. When you pull back just enough to speak, you catch a glimpse of his eyes briefly widen at your words, “No, you are amazing.”

♡

For a moment you both enjoy each other’s soft breaths and the way he hugs you tightly as he wraps his body around you like a heavy blanket. You keep nuzzling your faces into each others hair while you let the silence be filled by your affections. Silence except for the TV which’s now playing the final scenes of “Die Hard” in the background.

After some time, Dean pushes himself off you, gently sitting back down on your bum as he takes in the sight of you in front of him. His hands are kneading the flesh of your ass as he watches you with hooded eyes. Then a cheeky grin begins to form on his lips when he realizes something.

“Y’know, you’re laying down in the perfect position for me to do somethin’.” He states with a full-out grin now.

“Huh-?” Before you can even process what’s happening, his fingers dig into the skin where he knows you’re the most ticklish.

“Dean!!” You squeal like a mouse – but the sound quickly hitches into a high-pitched giggle while you desperately try to wiggle away from him. “St-stop it- y-you jerk!” You stutter between gasps for air and the tears gathering on the rim of your eyes. You kick your legs, throwing him off and not wasting your chance, slipping away to scramble for an escape.

But you quickly find yourself back on the motel rug with a gasp and a thud, thanks to Dean pulling you back by the ankle. His smile has turned into that smug grin of his when he taunts you in a commanding voice, “Where d’you think you’re goin’, hm?”

“Th-that’s- unfair!!” you protest, but your words dissipate in another round of giggles as you turn onto your side, trying to free yourself. But Dean has his calves wrapped around your knee to lock it while his fingers skitter across the heel of your foot. You grapple with his free hand but he effortlessly evades your flailing limbs and grips you by the hip before you get to wiggle away again.

Next moment, you find yourself unceremoniously flipped back onto your stomach and his weight dropped down on your ass to pin you down bellow him. His thighs straddle you, this time reverse as his hands dart out to snatch one of your ankles, bending your leg back so he can continue his assault.

“Unfair? Me?” He lets out a deep chuckle, lips pursed in mock-innocence, his head tilted to glance back down at you over his shoulder. He stills his teasing fingers, waiting for your reaction.

You try to catch your breath while you narrow your watering eyes at him, daring him to go on.

Of course that sly bastard musters the audacity to answer your threat with a wink of his emerald eyes glinting with mischief and his lips flashed into that cocky smirk of his.

“Never.”

A/N: Dean going from goofy to smut to fluff to rough sex and back to fluffy and goofy like 📈 Idk I just see him like this, a caring 'n goofy softdom horn dog who loves it when he can show you new things.

Let me know what you think and if you got to enjoy it my sweet vixens ♡

Masterlist of opened windows:

1st Dec. - Sunshine 2nd Dec. - Spell Book 3rd Dec. - Lights Out 4th Dec. - Tickle 5th Dec. - Dirty UNO 6th Dec. - (TBA) 7th Dec. - Candlelight 8th Dec. - Hex Play 9th Dec. - Whip Stroke 10th Dec. - Barbie World 11th Dec. - Temptation ... (check the masterlist for more!)

Kinky Advent Calendar Tags:

@ariasong11 ♡ @deansjacket ♡ @literallylexa ♡ @lmpala1967 ♡ @foxyjwls007 ♡ @impala67rollingthroughtown ♡ @aylacavebear ♡ @jc-winchester

[4linos]

too late for forever.

yang jeongin x f!reader

synopsis: he thought a proposal could fix what he broke. but you weren’t looking for a future, you were just trying to survive the present.

warnings: angst, emotional neglect, depiction of grief, abandonment, and quiet heartbreak. no happy ending.

wc: 3885

It started in laughter.

Not the polite kind, not the rehearsed kind you use to soften a blow or fill the quiet in a crowded room. But the raw, sudden, belly-deep laughter that left both of you breathless, sometimes over nothing at all. You remember the way Jeongin used to smile with his whole face, eyes disappearing into crescents, that dimple digging deep into his cheek like it had never known loneliness. Back then, your world was wrapped in the comfort of shared routines, weekend grocery trips, late-night ramen in front of the TV, brushing your teeth side-by-side in the cramped bathroom of your small apartment.

He used to come home and call your name before the door even closed behind him. It was a habit, like saying “I’m here” without the words. You’d reply from wherever you were kitchen, couch, sometimes half-asleep in bed and he'd find you, arms already opening like instinct. You were his place to land. And for a while, that was enough.

But then, the quiet started sneaking in.

It wasn’t sudden, which made it harder to notice. At first, you blamed it on the stress. He was always working, schedule packed with rehearsals, photoshoots, interviews, practice till midnight and up again before sunrise. You understood. You always had. You learned to make peace with the way love had to share space with ambition. His world was big, and you never expected to be the center of it. You just wanted to be his home base.

And for a time, he let you be.

But something changed. Gradually, subtly, like the slow shifting of tectonic plates beneath your feet. One day, he stopped calling out your name when he came home. You thought maybe he was just tired. Then he stopped coming home at all some nights, crashing at the dorm instead, with vague explanations over text: “Too late to drive back,” or, “Don’t wait up, early shoot tomorrow.” Still, you waited. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. Love had to be flexible. You weren’t the kind of partner who demanded too much.

You told yourself it was just a phase.

You started noticing the silences at dinner. Long stretches where your words hung in the air and fell flat, unanswered. He would nod along half-heartedly while scrolling through his phone, eyes glazed with something far away. You made his favorite dishes, kimchi stew just the way he liked it, grilled mackerel, even that ridiculous peach-flavored soda he used to beg for like a kid. He ate, but didn’t react. Didn’t smile. Didn’t say thank you.

You started filling the silences yourself. Talking more than usual, recounting your day in exaggerated detail, laughing at your own jokes in hopes of drawing something, anything out of him. Sometimes, he’d offer a tired smile. Sometimes, not even that.

You knew better than to confront him. You convinced yourself it would pass. That bringing it up would only make it worse. That real love meant riding out the ebbs and flows, even if it meant swallowing your own needs in the process.

After all, love didn’t have to hurt to be real. But sometimes, silence feels like a scream.

You remember the night it hit you, really hit you that something had changed and might never return to the way it was.

It was raining. One of those heavy, relentless storms that seemed to soak through everything. You were curled on the couch with a blanket and an untouched cup of tea, watching the rain streak down the windows. It was late. He was supposed to be home by now.

You checked your phone, no message. You called him, and it rang twice before going to voicemail.

You didn’t panic. You were past panic by then. You just sat there, waiting. The thunder echoed the hollowness inside your chest.

When the door finally opened sometime after 2 a.m., he didn’t even look surprised to see you awake. He just kicked off his shoes and muttered, “Long day,” before disappearing into the bathroom.

You stared at the empty space where he had stood. The way he didn’t apologize. The way he didn’t ask why you looked so tired. The way he didn’t offer even a small, guilty hug. It told you everything you needed to know.

He’d already begun to leave you, long before the door opened that night.

The unraveling wasn’t dramatic. There were no explosive fights, no slammed doors, no cruel words. It was quiet, excruciatingly quiet. A steady fading, like colors leeching out of a photograph until all that’s left is grayscale.

He started talking less. Touching less. Coming home less. And when he was there, it felt like he wasn’t.

You found yourself shrinking in his presence, afraid to say the wrong thing, to push too hard, to ask too much. You stopped trying to kiss him goodnight. You stopped waiting up. You told yourself it was easier that way.

But it wasn’t.

You missed him. God, you missed him even when he was sitting right next to you. You missed the way he used to hold your hand during movies. You missed the way he’d fall asleep mid-sentence, head heavy on your shoulder. You missed the random texts during the day “Thought of you,” “Look at this dumb meme,” “Miss you.”

Now, your phone stayed silent most of the day.

And still, you held on.

Because what was the alternative? To leave? To admit that something so beautiful could fall apart without warning, without a fight? You weren’t ready to let go. You weren’t ready to mourn someone who hadn’t even said goodbye.

You told yourself that maybe this was what love looked like after a while routine, quiet, worn in like an old sweater. Maybe you were just being dramatic. Overly sensitive. Clingy.

You gaslighted yourself before he ever had to.

But deep down, you knew.

You knew when he stopped asking about your day. You knew when he forgot the anniversary of the night you met. You knew when his hugs became perfunctory, when his kisses were brief, distracted, obligatory.

You knew when his eyes stopped lighting up when he saw you.

The final straw wasn’t even a fight.

It was another silent dinner, another meal eaten to the sound of clinking forks and a TV playing quietly in the background. You’d made japchae, his mother’s recipe, the one she taught you when you visited Busan together. He barely touched it.

You asked, softly, “Are you okay?”

He didn’t look up. Just shrugged. “Fine.”

You tried again. “Are we okay?”

He paused for a second. Long enough to give you hope. Then he said, “Yeah, just tired.”

Just tired.

Two words that had become a shield. A mask. A lie.

You nodded and said nothing more. But inside, something broke.

Later that night, while he slept beside you, turned away, you lay awake staring at the ceiling. The sound of his breathing, once comforting, now felt foreign. Like sharing a bed with a stranger.

You didn’t cry. You just let the silence fill the space between your ribs until it hurt to breathe.

You knew you couldn’t keep pretending forever. That love, even real love, can’t survive on memories alone.

But you weren’t ready to let go.

So you stayed. Stayed through the cold mornings and the long, empty nights. Stayed through the quiet birthdays and forgotten anniversaries. Stayed through the ache, the numbness, the slow erosion of everything you once held sacred.

You stayed because you loved him.

You stayed because you remembered who he used to be. Because part of you still hoped he’d come back to that version. That one day, he’d walk through the door and call your name like he used to. That he’d look at you and see you again.

But that day never came.

And one morning, you woke up and realized: you couldn’t even remember the last time he said I love you.

Not because you didn’t believe he once did, but because it had been so long that the words felt foreign now like a language you no longer spoke.

That’s the thing about slow heartbreak, it doesn’t shatter you all at once. It chips away, little by little, until one day, you’re standing in the ruins wondering how you ever called it home.

You still haven’t left. Not physically. But inside, you're already halfway gone.

You still cook him dinner, even though he barely eats. You still wait for his messages, even though you’ve stopped expecting them. You still whisper “goodnight” into the darkness, even though he doesn’t answer.

You’re grieving something that isn’t even over yet.

And maybe that’s the cruelest part of all.

You didn’t wake up one morning and decide to leave him.

It wasn’t some dramatic outburst or a single moment of heartbreak. There was no suitcase slammed shut, no tear-streaked goodbye at the door. The decision came in fragments quiet, deliberate, almost invisible. You began by withdrawing in small ways, ways he wouldn’t notice. That was the point.

You started by doing the laundry less often. Then you stopped washing his clothes altogether. When he asked where his hoodie was, the one you used to fold and tuck into his drawer with his favorite lavender sachets, you shrugged. “Probably in the basket.” You didn’t offer to find it. You didn’t care enough to.

He didn’t notice.

Next, you stopped buying the snacks he liked. Not to punish him, but because you couldn’t remember the last time he actually thanked you for them. You would wander the aisles of the store, basket in hand, staring at the shelves and wondering if there was even a point to choosing his favorite yogurt anymore.

You didn’t stop loving him overnight. You just stopped hoping he’d love you back the same way.

You began packing in quiet gestures, removing small bits of yourself from the apartment. Your favorite mug disappeared first. Then your books, slowly, one by one, tucked into a box in the back of the closet. Clothes that never left the drawers before now sat in a zipped-up suitcase under the bed. You deleted photos from your phone, but kept the hard drive hidden in the desk drawer, just in case.

You thought maybe he’d notice. Maybe he’d ask, Where’s your book? Where’s that silly sweatshirt you wore every weekend? Why do the shelves look so empty? But he didn’t.

Because Jeongin, for all his sweetness, had grown used to your presence. He had mistaken your silence for stability, your patience for permanence.

And so, you started leaving before you were really gone.

You remember the little moments where you waited achingly, hopefully for him to realize.

There was the day you waited for him at your favorite coffee shop. He’d said he’d meet you after his rehearsal. You waited an hour. Your tea went cold, and so did your hands. You texted once: Still coming?

No reply.

You walked home in the rain, your umbrella broken in the wind. When you got back to the apartment, you found him asleep on the couch, mouth open slightly, the TV still playing some game show on mute. Your soaked shoes squelched on the floor, but he didn’t stir.

You changed into dry clothes, dried your own hair, and curled up in bed alone.

The next morning, he didn’t even ask where you’d gone.

Another time, it was your anniversary.

Not your official one, not the kind you posted about on Instagram. It was the anniversary of the night he first told you he loved you. You’d made dinner, tried to recreate the dumplings you ate that night, even lit the exact same cinnamon candle he once said reminded him of you.

He didn’t come home until 11 p.m. Said he was out with the guys. You hadn’t heard from him all day.

You didn’t remind him. You just blew out the candle, scraped your uneaten dumplings into the trash, and nodded when he asked if you were okay.

And you were. Because by then, you’d stopped expecting him to show up for you.

But somewhere inside, some soft, desperate part of you still hoped. Every ignored message, every missed call, every quiet dinner felt like a question hanging in the air. Will this be the time he notices? Will this be the moment he remembers how to love me?

The answer was always no.

-

What you didn’t know, couldn’t know was that Jeongin had started to notice.

Too late, maybe. But he did.

It was something small at first. He came home one evening, late again, and reached for the charger you used to leave on the nightstand. It wasn’t there. He checked the drawer. Empty.

Then he noticed your hairbrush was gone from the bathroom counter. Your slippers, those ugly fuzzy ones with bunny ears weren’t by the door. The closet still had your coats, but the scent of your perfume, the little Post-it notes you used to leave him, the books stacked by the bed, gone.

He stood in the center of the apartment and felt something he hadn’t in a long time.

Alone.

Panic crept up his spine, but he told himself maybe you were just reorganizing. Maybe you took things to your studio or your friend's place. Maybe he was imagining it. Still, he found himself checking the calendar, the messages, the photos.

He scrolled through your chat history. Saw how many times you had texted first. Saw how many messages he left on read.

He scrolled and scrolled, realizing he couldn’t remember the last time he initiated a conversation. Couldn’t remember the last time he asked you how you were feeling, not just how your day was.

And then, one afternoon, while searching for an extra charger in the back of the hallway cabinet, he found something that stopped him cold.

A small box. Light blue. Tied with a ribbon that had slightly unraveled.

He opened it and found a silver keychain inside. It was engraved.

“Come home safe.”

A gift.

One he never received. One you must have bought weeks, maybe months ago. He knew your handwriting on the small note tucked underneath: Happy comeback. I’m proud of you.

His throat closed.

You had waited for the right moment to give it to him. He had never given you that moment.

Jeongin sat on the floor of the hallway for a long time, holding the keychain in his palm like it might burn through him. All the missed chances, the ignored texts, the silence, your silence it all made sense now.

He hadn’t just neglected you.

He had left you waiting with love in your hands, and now you had nothing left to hold.

That night, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t sleep.

He watched you as you curled away from him, your breathing slow and steady. You didn’t reach for him. He didn’t reach for you. There was a canyon between your backs, and neither of you had tried to build a bridge.

He whispered, barely audible, “I’m sorry.”

But you were already gone, even if your body still shared his bed.

Jeongin didn’t tell anyone. Not his members. Not his manager. He started working later, pretending nothing had changed, but everything had. The guilt chewed through his chest.

He realized he wanted to fix it. Needed to.

He thought about all the things you used to say, all the little details you remembered about him his coffee order, his fears, how he always hummed when he was anxious. You knew him. Loved him even when he made it hard.

He didn’t want to lose that.

So he made a plan.

He didn’t want anything flashy. That wasn’t you. He remembered how you once said that proposals shouldn’t be performative. That love should feel like coming home.

So, Jeongin quietly went to a small jewelry shop in Itaewon, one you once walked past together on a rainy afternoon. He remembered you paused at the window, admiring a ring with a quiet smile, then moved on without saying anything.

He bought that ring.

He planned to propose at home. Your home. Your couch. With takeout from your favorite place and maybe candles, if he could find the ones you liked.

He imagined it all: you crying, laughing, calling him an idiot, saying yes. He imagined holding your face in his hands and promising to do better. Promising to love you the way you deserved.

But what he hadn’t accounted for was the timing.

Because while he was planning to start again, you had already begun to end it.

-

You didn’t expect him to be home.

You were coming back from the store, arms full of a few essentials: toothpaste, ramen, some oranges. You debated buying more things but stopped yourself. You’d already packed up most of what mattered. The rest wasn’t worth carrying.

The sky was dusky, the air thick with humidity. Another Seoul summer pressing down on your skin. The quiet of the apartment hallway felt heavier than usual as you walked toward the door. You weren’t ready to be in the same space again, not tonight, not with all the thoughts swirling in your head.

But when you reached the door, your heart stumbled.

His shoes were there.

Neatly placed by the wall, laces untied just like always. His keychain, the one you never got to give him, the one that said Come home safe sat in the tray by the door. You stared at it for a second too long.

Once, that sight would’ve made your breath catch in your throat with joy. Once, you would’ve dropped your bags and rushed into his arms, pressing kisses to his cheek, wrapping around him like gravity.

But now?

You just felt tired.

You stepped in, locking the door behind you softly, but then froze. There was… music.

Not from the TV. Not background noise. It was soft, intimate, warm. A quiet jazz melody played in the air like a sigh. The lights were dimmed. Candles glowed on the coffee table. Fairy lights sparkled faintly above the window.

You blinked.

The apartment, your shared apartment looked different. Romantic. Like something out of a drama. The couch had throw pillows arranged just so, a small table was set with your favorite wine, takeout containers opened and plated as if he’d tried.

The scent of vanilla and something floral lingered in the air. The cinnamon candle you used to light on cozy nights was burning again. You hadn’t lit it in months.

Then, him.

Jeongin stepped into view, emerging from the hallway.

Dressed neatly. Crisp button-up. Nervous smile. That same dimple you used to love, peeking through the hesitation on his face.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You’re home earlier than I thought.”

You didn’t answer. You just stood there, keys clenched in your hand, eyes moving over the room, trying to catch up with what was happening.

“What is this?” you asked, voice distant.

He stepped closer. “I wanted to surprise you.”

You shook your head slightly. “Why?”

He paused.

Then, slowly, with trembling fingers, he pulled a small velvet box from his pocket.

“I… I was going to ask you something.”

Your chest caved in.

No. No, no, no, not like this.

“I know I’ve been distant,” he continued quickly, sensing your retreat. “I know I messed up. I didn’t see how far we were drifting, but I do now. I see it. And I’m sorry. I should’ve fought harder. I should’ve held on tighter. I know you’ve been holding us together alone.”

You didn’t move.

“I found the gift,” he added, voice softening. “The keychain. I found it, and it broke me. I didn’t even realize you were trying so hard, and I was just… coasting. Pretending everything was fine.”

Tears pooled in his eyes, and still he dropped to one knee.

“I don’t want to coast anymore,” he whispered, holding up the ring box, lid slowly opening to reveal the simple, delicate band you once admired in a rainy shop window. “I want to come home to you. I want to choose you. Every day. Forever.”

His voice cracked.

“Will you marry me?”

The words hung in the air, trembling.

And you, your mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Because your chest was collapsing. Your throat was raw. And you couldn’t, you couldn’t lie to him.

“Jeongin…”

The look in his eyes faltered.

You stepped back. Just once. Just enough to shatter him.

“I can’t,” you whispered.

He blinked. “What?”

“I can’t say yes.”

His hands dropped. The ring remained in the box, suddenly heavy. “W-Why?”

You swallowed hard. “Because I don’t think I love you like that anymore.”

Silence.

You could hear his breath hitch. He stood slowly, clutching the ring box like it was a lifeline.

“No. Don’t say that.”

You looked at him, really looked and he was already breaking. Eyes shining, lips trembling, fists clenched at his sides.

“Please,” he whispered. “Don’t say that. Not now. Not when I’m finally trying.”

Your heart cracked in two.

“You were trying to give me forever,” you said, your voice hollow. “I was just trying to survive the day.”

The silence that followed was louder than anything you had ever known.

Jeongin stood there, stunned, a soft gasp leaving his lips.

You continued, because if you didn’t now, you never would.

“I waited for you. I waited every night. I waited for texts that never came, for you to walk through that door and look at me the way you used to. I cooked, I planned, I held onto memories like they could build a future. But you weren’t there. You stopped seeing me, Jeongin.”

He flinched.

“I kept hoping it was just a phase. That if I stayed patient long enough, you’d come back to me. But you didn’t. You were in the same room, but I was alone. For months.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he choked out. “I didn’t know how far gone we were—”

“I know,” you said softly. “That’s the saddest part. You didn’t even notice me slipping away.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks now. Quiet. Controlled. But real.

“I started packing. Little by little. I started detaching because it was the only way to survive you forgetting how to love me.”

He stepped forward. “Then stay. Let me fix it. Please, let me try—”

“You’re too late,” you said, voice shaking. “I already left you. A long time ago. I just… hadn’t walked out yet.”

He sank onto the couch, face in his hands.

The ring box fell onto the table with a soft, final sound.

You stood for a while, unmoving. Memorizing the moment. This strange, beautiful, terrible goodbye.

Then, you turned.

As you walked toward the door, he looked up. Tear-streaked. Shaking.

“I thought we still had time,” he said, barely a whisper.

“I know,” you replied.

You placed your keys gently on the counter beside the ring.

“I thought so too.”

You closed the door softly behind you.

And left.

The music kept playing in the empty apartment, soft and slow. A romantic song for no one. The ring sat untouched, the candles flickering in a room full of things left unsaid.

//

masterlist.

[official taglist: @alisonyus @lenfilms @captainchrisstan @anastasiiiiaaaaa @emilyywhyy @ready2readnwrite @nyxaluna @tricky-ritz @tsunderelino @wickedbutlovely @delulumel @shinygubbins @hhwangsmoon lmk if you’d like to be added/removed 😙 ..]

[choerrysjubiles]

Leg Day

pairing: sungchan x fem!reader

warning: smut! semi-public sex, unprotected sex, oral, boob play, pet names, they're working out so i have to describe the sweat smell im not even sorry

wc: 3.1k

a/n: those gym pics did something to me 😵‍💫 had to hold myself back from yapping abt his tits

“You’re going to the gym?”

You poked your head out of the hallway, watching Sungchan walk towards the front door.

“Yeah, I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

“Are you ever gonna bring me?”

Sungchan laughed, “Next time!”

He exited the door while waving bye to you.

“You said that last time!” You whined.

You didn’t want to be clingy or obsessive but Sungchan never wanted to work out with you. And, of course, there was nothing wrong with having a personal hobby but he always wanted to tag along with you while browsing book stores or events. And it was so fun, walking beside Sungchan as you both went to a museum together or a ceramics class.

“You know, it’s really boring.” He commented.

“But it’s what you love! You always come with me for my hobbies, I want to do the same for you.”

And for once, he caved.

You were almost giddy when packing your gym bag. You can’t say exercising was something you were looking forward to, but finally doing something with Sungchan was what kept you positive. You were careful to pick out the right outfit for this: cotton leggings, sports bra, loose t shirt that you could take off if you got sweaty.

Sungchan rented a small, private gym room for the two of you. Walking in, everything looked clean and spacious. Only a handful of treadmills, one of every bench machine, a few stationary bikes. This was way nicer than being out in the main gym.

Sungchan grabbed at some of the workout mats, placing them beside each other before you two began stretching. Relaxing your muscles you slowly stretched them out, flexing and pulling them. Sungchan helped you with the flexibility portion, pushing your torso towards your legs as you stretched your back muscles. You did the same for him, though he was far stiffer.

Warmed up, you both started with planks, holding yourself up for a minute at a time. It was painful, feeling your arms grow sore and your hips attempt to fall down. But you held out for as long as you could, even if you felt your back muscles tense and strain.

The main thing keeping you going was the fact that you begged him to bring you. You couldn’t give up so easily, at least not in the first thirty minutes. And this was also your first session, you should go easy on yourself! Of course Sungchan was going to have better endurance. You can’t remember the last time you attempted one of those youtube work out routines.

Finished with planking, Sungchan laid on the foam mat with you holding his legs. He slowly lifted himself into a sit up as you counted with him. You could see a few small beads of sweat form along his hairline. When he finished his sets you traded places, him holding your legs in place as you rose upwards.

“Keep your back straight, you’ll strain your neck.”

You huffed, already feeling breathless as you took his advice. You slowly rose yourself, feeling your abs burn as you sat up before laying down. You took far longer than Sungchan did, trying your best to not whine as you felt your body ache more and more before finishing your sets.

Sungchan handed you your water bottle, “You’re doing good for your first time.”

You felt terrible. Sore and bordering on cranky as you drank.

“You’re also not complaining.” Sungchan laughed.

“I’m trying to hold it in.”

“Did you want to do some push ups or work on some machines?”

“Will I die if I do push ups?”

Sungchan laughed, “No, but your arms will be a little sore.”

You thought about your options, “Sure.”

Both getting into position, you kept your back as straight as possible, slowly rising and falling onto the mat as Sungchan was keeping pace with you.

“Don’t worry about me.” You groaned.

“You sure?” He laughed.

“You’re far better at this, I’ll do less reps.”

Sungchan sped up, pushing himself up as a faster rate than you. It looked like every one push up you did, he was on this third. You continued on for as long as you could, feeling your arms burn and ache under you. You tried calming your breathing as much as possible, each push upward was a breath in and every lean downward was a breath out. But still you were breathless and in pain.

Finishing up, Sungchan set the mats aside. You were drinking more water, exhausted already and nervous about what else Sungchan wanted to do.

“You might wanna work on your legs now that you’re warmed up.”

“Is it your leg day?” You asked.

“No, arms. But I’m sure you do not want to lift weights.”

You nodded, “I’ll do legs.”

You felt relieved. While it sucked having sore legs, it was far easier to deal with than sore arms. You don’t wanna think about how sore your arms were going to become tomorrow, but if your legs hurt more than maybe it could be tolerable.

You thought about it, opting for squats and lunges for today. It couldn’t hurt. Walking over to the dumbbells, you grabbed a medium sized kettlebell, you’ve seen plenty of people use these to squat with.

You saw Sungchan move over to the pull bar, setting his weights before sitting down and pulling the bar down.

You moved a mat over, setting the kettlebell down before squatting down and picking it up. Your legs moved a little farther apart, planting themselves into the mat before lifting yourself up. You kept your back as straight as possible, lifting with your leg muscles before squatting back down to drop the weight.

This felt far better than the arm exercises from earlier. Sure they were great for Sungchan but you were stronger in your legs, barely feeling any burn from the squats. After some reps you grabbed the kettlebell and walked over to replace it.

You were zoned in just enough to not hear Sungchan move from his bar machine. You felt his large arm wrap around your waist, pulling you into his warm body.

“You’re driving me crazy.”

You felt his face press into your shoulder, kissing towards your neck as he was radiating heat onto you.

“We’re supposed to be working out, remember?”

“It’s hard to remember anything when I’m staring at your ass.”

You laughed, playfully swatting at him, “We’re in public, Channie, you have to control yourself.”

You could feel him pull you into him, pressing his erection into you.

“No one’s here, princess, please.”

It was fun to hear how desperate Sungchan was. Turning around, you could already feel him leaning down to kiss you. His large hands gripping at your waist as he kissed up your neck. Your hands fell on his pecs, feeling how tense his muscles were. Walking backwards, Sungchan led you towards an open bench.

Sitting down, Sungchan pulled you into his lap, still holding you tight as your hands moved up to lace into his hair. He was sweaty, almost slippery, his mouth feverish against yours as his tongue glided across. Hearing him groan against you hit every nerve in your core, your hips unconsciously rocking against him as Sungchan pulled your shirt off. His mouth kissed down to your neck, nipping at your skin as his hands cupped your breasts through your bra.

“Can I take this off?” His words were muffled between his open mouth kisses along your collarbones and exposed skin.

You nodded, grabbing the bottom hem of your sports bra before pulling it above your head. Sungchan only pulled away as it was lifted off, attaching back to latch onto your breasts. His lips pressed against the top of your breasts before latching onto your nipple, his hands holding your ribcage in place for him to kiss and suck. One of his hands moved to tweak your nipple, switching as he switched breasts. Exposing your wet skin to the cool air of the gym.

Your hips continued rocking against him, your hands gripping his biceps as he was engulfed in your breasts. He pulled you to the side, letting you lay onto the bench as he kissed down your torso and stomach.

“Channie, you don’t have to.”

Sungchan was already pulling your leggings down, kissing along your hipbones and lower stomach before he pulled them off.

“Nuh uh.” He said, “I need to taste you.”

Your legs were growing more slippery, already hot from your workout but even more so as Sungchan pressed his face into your core. His warm hands held your thighs open as he lapped at your clothed heat. Even through your underwear he was determined to have you.

“Channie.”

Feeling his warm tongue lap at your underwear, almost grinding against your clit, made your head fall back. He stared up at you, watching the way your thighs trembled and chest rose with every lick. Sungchan moved lower, pressing his nose against your clit as his tongue flattened across your wet spot. He groaned tasting you, his moved his hands from your thighs to your hips, pulling you closer to his face.

His mouth moved upwards to your pubic bone, pressing kisses onto your exposed skin as his hands slipped your underwear off. Sungchan kissed lower and lower until he could slide his tongue against your clit, holding your hips in place as you tried rolling them into him.

Sungchan could swear you’ve never tasted sweeter. The way you were dripping on his face, the musky, sexual smell you had. He would stay here for hours if he could, or if his dick would allow him.

Your hands were gripping onto his scalp, your back arching as Sungchan lapped at you like it was his last meal. Your whines and moans were echoing along the metal bars and glass mirrors in the gym. If there was a point where someone would check on you, it was now.

And even through the anxiety bubbling in your stomach, your orgasm was stronger. Sungchan’s hand moved to your core, slipping his fingers in and pumping into you as his tongue lapped at your clit.

“Channie, I’m so close.”

Sungchan’s fingers pumped faster while his tongue kept the same pace. Feeling and enjoying your taste on his tongue while you were at his mercy. Feeling your walls clench around him, your jaw clenched shut to quiet your moan as best as you could, Sungchan slipped his fingers out and drank you up.

Pulling you almost off of the bench to press his face into your heat, tongue gathering as much cum as he could to drink. Your thighs shook even after he pulled away, looking up at you with heavy lidded eyes. He was drunk on your taste, unaware of what he was doing as he savored your taste.

Catching your breath, you sat up, pulling Sungchan to his feet as you pulled his sweats down. You felt his hands in your hair as you kissed along his naval down to his briefs. He placed his feet farther apart, letting his bulge be face to face with you as you kissed and teased him.

You slowly pulled his underwear down, watching his erection bounce up before swirling your tongue along his tip. Stretching your mouth open, you stared up at him sucking along his head. He tasted sweeter than usual, maybe you were dehydrated from working out. But you slowly pushed him into your mouth, hand already squeezing and jerking his base.

Your eyes lowered, seeing how much more of his length you needed to take. Your gaze was fixated on his happy trail as you pushed him further and further into your mouth. Occasionally stopping and bobbing along his length while trying to relax your jaw even more.

There was a strong sweat smell, you were sure you had the same, but it was incredibly strong. A musky, sweaty, almost pungent smell that you couldn’t get away from. Sungchan normally never had this smell when you sucked him on and as you took Sungchan deeper into your mouth, you were growing intoxicated with it.

It was gross. A gross, nasty smell that was horribly addictive. Feeling your hand touch your lips as your jaw strained open, you continued bobbing up and down his length. Sungchan’s hand was lacing through your hair, his head thrown back as he moaned and gasped at every action.

You pulled off of him, tongue playing with his slit before circling around his head and pushing him back into your mouth. Your cheeks hollowing and pushing as far down as you could, close enough to bump your nose against his happy trail, able to smell his sweat a little stronger. You held down as long as you could, sucking around him before moving off.

“Baby,” Sungchan was breathless, almost gasping every word, “lean back for me.”

You cleared your throat, “You don’t wanna cum, yet?”

“I wanna cum inside you more.”

You laid down, waiting for Sungchan to remove his sweats as you already felt a pool drip out of you. Sungchan moved beside you, getting into position as he pressed his tip against your folds. You groaned, feeling his thick head swipe along your clit and entrance, you wanted him in you so badly.

After a second, you felt him push in. Slowly stretching you out and pressing deep into your pussy. You grabbed at his arm, already overwhelmed at how he filled you up. He was incredibly thick, every inch stretched you out and made you dizzy.

“You’re doing so good, princess.”

You nodded, waiting for him to start moving. Slowly, he pulled out and started finding his rhythm. His hips were desperate to press into yours, not bothering to pull out even half way before pressing into you.

“You feel so good.” He moaned.

You felt your walls clench at his words, only able to moan in response.

Sungchan’s hips continued rutting into yours, leaning over you when he grew tired. Your eyes were glued to his pecs, watching the way his sweat rolled off of his body, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed before tensing again.

“I’m close.” He groaned.

Your fingers moved to your clit, rubbing the muscle in a messy, desperate way.

“You’re so tight, fuck.”

“Ah, Channie,” Your hips bucked into his.

“Right there?” He asked.

You nodded, all words losing you.

Sungchan’s tip pressed into that spot over and over again, his breath fanning your forehead as he felt his high approach.

“Right there, fuck.”

You bit onto your lip, fingers still rubbing your clit as your walls clamped around Sungchan. He continued thrusting into you. Feeling your walls tighten, Sungchan felt his orgasm crash into him. Still pumping into your heat, he was milking every drop out.

Sungchan stayed there, dick buried deep into you as you both caught your breath. You were sweaty, a mix between your own and his dripping onto your body.

“Can we go again?” You asked, throat as dry as ever.

“Yeah. Can we change positions?”

You nodded, feeling Sungchan pull out. Your pussy felt empty as he caught his breath and moved towards the shoulder press. You followed him, watching his relax against the reclined seat as he pulls you into his lip.

“Channie, I’m so tired.”

“If you start I can help you.”

He laid a light kiss onto your lips. You grabbed onto him, jerking and teasing his dick until it was hard again. Sungchan didn’t show any sign of pain, making you hope he was still half hard when he came in you.

You whined as you lifted your hips, your weak legs holding you up as you grabbed him dick and lined up to sink down. You felt Sungchan’s hands hold your hips as he helped you lower onto him. Fully seated, you waited to adjust. Your arms stretched backwards to hold yourself up with his thighs.

“See how easy that was?”

You glare at him before slowly moving up and sinking back down. The change of positions made him feel even bigger. Sungchan held one hand on your hip and the other on your breast, eyes watching as much as he could. He would glance at your pussy swallowing him up before watching your breast bounce, looking up at your face strained in concentration.

His thumb stretched to rub your clit, watching your movements stutter before continuing. His hips lifting to meet your bounces. You moved to lean forward, abandoning your previous position as your face moved to Sungchan’s neck.

Each thrust made you dizzy, you felt his dick press into the deepest corners of your pussy. Your hands gripping his shoulders as Sungchan’s hands move to hold onto your ass. Holding onto each cheek as he moved the both of you: hips thrusting up into you as he guided yours down onto him.

Sungchan could’ve called this heaven. Feeling your snug walls clench around him, your breasts pressed against his chest, and your moans echoing directly into his ear.

“I’m gonna cum.” He groaned, feeling his hips move faster.

You pressed your hand between your bodies, moving to rub your clit as Sungchan began rutting into you.

“Keep going.” You moaned, circling your clit.

Soon you both crashed, feeling his dick twitch inside you as Sungchan came. You were overheated, sweaty, you had all kinds of cum and sweat built up on your body. And even through this you couldn’t bring yourself to push away from Sungchan. Sungchan held your head as you both relax against each other.

“Feel good?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You nodded, “Almost makes me wanna join your gym sessions more.”

Sungchan laughed, your body feeling the vibration from his chest.

“Give me a second and I can get us cleaned up.”

Sungchan was careful to lift you off of him before grabbing a spare rag to clean you off. Wiping you carefully before handing you a clean one to wipe the sweat off of your body.

“I usually don’t shower here, the equipment is clean but I never trust the showers.”

You agreed, grabbing the clothing he handed to you, changing into your usual clothing before he helped you to your feet.

“You know,” Sungchan tried hiding his smile, “this is a great way to explain why you’re so sore all the time.”

“Until I’m supposed to be used to a work out routine.”

“Mmm, maybe.”

Sungchan made sure to have you hold onto him, walking out and his arms carefully holding you up.

[sakachichi]

Drabble!Satoru The new craze is Pilates, all your girlfriends are doing it so you join in on the fun. Making it part of your daily routine, every morning walking in with your tight rompers, every inch of the stretchy fabric hugging your curves just right — your ass most importantly :p

Your Pilates class was inside a gym, in a room all the way in the very back, so you have to walk throughout the entire gym to get to it. And every morning you walk past Satoru Gojo himself, but without a care of course! Barely even noticing he’s there. You’ve seen him before of course, and thought he was super cute but up to there — nothing more. But he sees you, every morning, with your cute baby pink gym bag with your matching water bottle, your flashy colored rompers, and your hair and makeup done.

Soooo many girls are dressed the same, it’s nothing new honestly, but you…you are different. The way you carry yourself, like you got all your shit together and this was just something fun you go to, the way you smile every morning, that cute bounce in every step you take (making your booty jiggle just right) and your sweet enticing scent following so intensely behind you. Fuck, he’s so attracted to you he’s going crazy.

After a few weeks of seeing you constantly he finally shoots his shot and talks to you, but you're obviously in a hurry so it’s not for long. “Hey, Satoru” he reaches out a hand, abruptly you stop and smile wide at him (he’s so fucking cute) taking his hand replying with your name. “If you're looking for a trainer, you know…hit me up” you nod, “sure” and off you go taking your cute confident strides. His friends chuckle at his ‘failed’ attempt, but he’s confident you're his.

And he was right, after more attempts of building somewhat of a relationship, you guys finally greet each other and have small talk every morning. And one day after class, you were the last one there (which was weird because you always leave with your friends) Satoru obviously concerned, he goes to check up on you.

Satoru walks in on you, bending over and touching your toes, “oh hey!” He greets you, waving at you, slowly you get back up, “hi!” You reply, “just stretching before I leave” you giggle as you gather your things, and he’s just standing there staring at your tits. “Your flexible as fuck, damn” his face in awe as you chuckle, slinging your bag over your shoulder, “yea?” And he replies with another short yea. The both of you just stand there, stupidly smiling and staring at each other. And one thing leads to another and suddenly your bent over the Pilates machine with his cock buried so deeeeep inside you, leg up high as you look back at him.

“Shiiit, you’re so fucking sexy” he moans, slapping your ass making you whine, “you’ve been wanting to fuck me huh? Been wanting to be buried deep in my pussy” you talk back, biting your lip and rolling your eyes back as he hits your cervix so good. “Fuck you’re nasty, who knew you’d have such a dirty mouth?” His fingers squish your cheeks together making your lips create a ‘o’ shape, “pussy just as nasty, getting wet for a guy you barely know, have you always been this slutty?” And it’s like his words are making him even more needy as he starts fucking so much harder than before.

“Mmmm’fuck s-sato!” You moan you grip at the leather under you, the slapping sounds are so nasty bouncing off the walls. And then two of you cum together almost like it’s rehearsed, harmonizing your moans, groans, whimpers, and grunts. So lewd it’s beautiful, chests heaving as you try to catch your breath. “And you're letting me cum in you? What else would you let me do, Hmm?”

Yeaaaaaa this ones my favorite ���😛 yall can imagine the way im imagining this right????? I might release a fic soon primas so keep a look out 🤞🌝 I’m posting these “drabbles” to keep yall fed 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ also looking for some primas to moot 😻😽

[pleasureandprinciple]

I go to the gym twice daily, every day without fail. I do a 3-mile walk every day at noon, I stretch my body twice daily, and I have a single themed class on Sundays at noon in lieu of my walk. I like being slim, active, and flexible, and the time I spend in the gym feels like a reward instead of a punishment or a requirement.

I drink green juice, kefir, aloe juice, kombucha, and green tea religiously on top of water. I had an issue with not hydrating; I turned that around quickly, and I swapped all my sodas for good drinks (with the exception of the occasional Diet Coke). I start the morning and end my night with a hot lemon tea with a little honey, keep myself hydrated with electrolyte salts, and make sure that I’m on track to meeting my daily hydration goals before I let myself have a soda.

I believe in little treatments and I indulge myself. I do float tanks frequently and love the feeling, I keep up with red light therapy, I love a classic sauna sit, and I think it’s important to sit in salt rooms and meditate. Regardless of whether or not these things actually work, they add to my quality of life and make me feel so much better. Salt rooms are great for my anxiety.

I eat well and really enjoy cooking and baking. I used to be obsessed with limiting the amount of sugar, carbs, and calories I consumed, but then I realized that I could cut out most fast/processed foods and alcohol and eat what I want. If I’m cooking, baking, and creating meals or going to restaurants with good menus, I’m happy to eat whatever I want and enjoy it, but for my own sake, I stay away from really unhealthy stuff and most alcohol.

I do lymphatic drainage massages weekly, and I think that they’ve helped to sculpt my body, and I also do acupuncture, which I believe helps me to not feel as tired and has helped take all of the tension out of my shoulders and the backs of my calves. Both are necessary evils and have helped me function much better than I used to. The headaches I used to get nearly disappeared once I started getting acupuncture, and all of the bloating I used to get in the mornings basically disappeared once I added massages to my weekly routine and started using my roller at home.

[onelittlespiral]

FML: Confidence

I had decided it was finally time for a change. A few years after college and sitting all day at the office had taken its toll. Twink death was here, but I wanted to have a chance at a few more wild nights before I hit my thirties. So, on a buddy’s recommendation I called up Dr. Webb. He had been touted to me as one of the best in his industry, able to help with all kinds of health and wellness. In my consultation, we discussed my goals. I talked about my concerns around aging and some of the weight I had put on. He probed a bit about my health and family medical history. He was so calm and gentle. It was so easy to talk with him I may have even disclosed more than I wanted to about my college days and conquests. At the end, he leaned back and read over his notes:

“If I am being honest, I am not sure what you are too concerned with. You may not be your youngest, but I wouldn’t say you are deviating too much from a health body at your age.”

“But Doc, I don’t want to just slide into my thirties. I want to get out there like I did just a few years ago.”

“There is nothing wrong with aging my boy. It’s scary for us all but we aren’t stopping the clock any time soon.”

“I don’t want to stop the clock. I just want to feel confident in my body again.”

He stroked his beard and thought for a moment, “Now that is maybe something I can work with.” The rest of the visit was boring. But by the time I left his office, I had a pack vitamin supplements, a list of recommended exercises, and a follow up appointment in a few weeks.

Over the next couple days or so, I diligently took the supplements, followed the exercise routine, and logged my daily progress. It was strange, I didn’t really see a difference, but did start to feel a bit better. The biggest change I think I felt though was a kind of hormonal rebalance. I think doc mentioned it. My sleep was slowly becoming more regular, mood swings improved, and my flexibility was improving as I followed my exercise routine. However, I think it was also starting to create a fixation. I would just need to see my progress, check if I was improving. Whenever I got a small chance I would just stare at myself and focus on my curves. Were they any smaller?

I mentioned it to Dr. Webb at our next meeting. He laughed it off, said it was nothing unusual. But he did send me home with some meditation files to help me relax and center my mind. Help me let go of my worries and all that. And I will confirm they were effective. I popped on the first tape that night, listening to breathing exercises and ambient white noise. Woke up an hour later feeling refreshed. I don’t think I thought about my body much that night. In fact, I hardly thought about anything. My mind felt so clear.

It continued like that for a week I think. To be honest, the days started blurring together a bit. The routine was really sinking in, abs became an almost unconscious part of my day. At some point though, I don’t know when, I did start to notice a change as I would finish the tapes. I would always come to hard as wood. My appetite for sex was off the charts, quickly becoming a nuisance to take care of myself, several times a day. I even had to take a break at work one day. That is, until one day I saw myself in the mirror.

I was getting ready for the day, and suddenly something in me shifted. I stopped pulling down my tee and stared at myself in the mirror.

Damn, had I always been this hot?

Something about the way my jeans hugged into my sides and the thick matted carpet stretching across my stomach felt new and exciting. My mind said it should have felt off, but staring at my gut and feeling its weight ripple as I rubbed it up and down, I was entranced.

‘I felt big, strong, and masculine’, a voice echoed in mind, and I couldn’t agree more. Instantly my plans for the day were shot. I needed to get out there and find someone to share this body with. I couldn’t keep it all to myself. I popped my top off and went on the prowl for a piece of ass to demolish. A few quick photos and I had some nameless twink on his way over for an afternoon delight. Within moments of his arrival, I felt a shift in energy between us. I was used to a kind of back and forth, pull and push as people met and flirted. This was all pull. It started slowly, as he sat next to me on the couch. Then, he placed his hand on my thigh and gently rubbed. I was soon no longer talking to him, I was giving him commands:

“Scoot closer to me.” He scooted.

“Rub my belly a bit, don’t be shy.” He hesitated for just a moment before gliding his hand over my furry belly.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He nodded limply. He was fixated on other things

‘A man gets what he wants,’ rang the voice in my head. And my patience was running thin.

The commands flowed from my mouth quickly:

“Take off my shirt”

“Take off your shirt”

“Lay on me a bit”

“Don’t mind the smell, I’m wrapping my arm around you.”

He quickly followed commands, even started taking huffs of my musky pits as he curled into my arms. I didn’t tell him to do that yet, but I felt so in control as this man was getting hard practically in my lap. It was time.

“Pull out my cock.”

“Put your head right there.”

“Open wide.”

“Suck, boy.”

It was just so easy to get him to comply. He was like putty in my hands. He just bent to my authority as I guided his willing throat, mouth, and tongue through the best blow job of my life. By the time I was ready to move on, a damp spot had formed through his shorts at the tip of his throbbing cock. It bobbed in the air a bit as I turned him around and pulled down his shorts. I took a moment to press myself against him, let him feel the power of my body.

“Bend over.” And he went down on all fours.

By the time my next appointment came up, I already had a small selection of boys willing to come over when I needed them. They were so small, I was almost worried I would break them in half. But it felt so freeing to discover this side of myself. Nothing could beat a twink sitting on my dick, begging for me to cum in him. I reported back to the Doc that I didn’t think I needed his services anymore. He said that he couldn’t agree more, and that even he was shocked at how much progress I made in such a short period of time.

“Now would you kindly put your shorts back on? They did not need to come off for this examination.”

“No,” I replied, “gotta take care of some business first. You want to show me that cute ass of yours.”

“I don’t think so, I…”

“Please doctor, with a body like this? I’m confident you’ll find your work satisfying.”

[melshifting]

THE ULTIMATE SPORTS & HOBBIES SCRIPTING PACK ꒰ 01 ꒱ .☘︎ ݁˖

❝ It’s not even fair how good they are at everything.❞

— VOLLEYBALL

♫ ㆍ Your inner clock adjusts to match the rhythm of every match—so you never mistime a jump, hit too early, or react too slow.

♫ ㆍ Your arms and hands never sting or swell after a hard dig or block, no matter how intense the play.

♫ ㆍ No matter the lighting or gym, your depth perception stays crystal clear.

♫ ㆍ You can instantly spot weak points in any team’s formation after one rotation.

♫ ㆍ Your intuition about out balls is always right. No hesitation when letting a deep shot go—you just know when not to touch it.

♫ ㆍ You’re naturally synced with your setter—even if you’ve never played together, you feel their rhythm instantly.

♫ ㆍ Your serves are never accidentally out—you’re free to risk jump serves, floaters, or short serves.

♫ ㆍ Tape never peels, pads never slip; everything you put on stays in place without needing constant adjustments.

— DRAWING/PAINTING

♫ ㆍ Even at the most detailed and intricate strokes, your hand maintains perfect precision, removing the need for rulers or corrections.

♫ ㆍ Your brushes never wear out or fray, they always stay in perfect condition.

♫ ㆍ Without trial and error, you mix your paints knowing instinctively the exact color combination to achieve any shade.

♫ ㆍ You can draw or paint in complete darkness—your muscular memory and spatial awareness allow you to create impeccable pieces.

♫ ㆍ You have an intuitive understanding of anatomy and proportions. Everything and anything looks realistic and dynamic, regardless of perspective.

♫ ㆍ When something doesn't look right, your eye immediately identifies the problem, and you know how to correct it without starting from scratch.

♫ ㆍ References appear in your mind like flashcards—if you’ve seen it once you can mentally flip back to it when sketching.

♫ ㆍ You’re not sure why, but your favorite pen seems to stretch for extra pages, your paint tubes never dry out, and your erasers don’t crumble.

— ICE SKATING

♫ ㆍ Your blades never need sharpening—they’re always at their optimal state.

♫ ㆍ Even on cold trails, you maintain flexibility and warmth, eliminating the risk of stiffness or injury.

♫ ㆍ You never forget your choreography mid-routine—your muscles narrate the performance before your brain even finishes thinking.

♫ ㆍ Your spins are always perfectly centered—your balance is so impeccable that your spins look flawless.

♫ ㆍ Even the most intricate routines are fixed in your mind after seeing them just once.

♫ ㆍ Your body mechanics are so finely tuned that high-difficulty steps become your signature moves.

♫ ㆍ After you fall, your clothes never get soaked or uncomfortable. You bounce up, and it’s like nothing touched you.

♫ ㆍ Your costume/outfit never tears, rides up, or itches.

— WRITING

♫ ㆍ Every time you reread your work, the mistakes or awkward parts stand out just enough to catch, but not enough to make you spiral.

♫ ㆍ You never forget that one specific word you’re looking for, it bubbles up exactly when you need it.

♫ ㆍ You're so good at describing a feeling or detail, that readers often say “I’ve never seen it written like that before” because it’s deeply accurate.

♫ ㆍ You never lose the initial feeling that made you want to write something in the first place.

♫ ㆍ You keep what matters without over-polishing—you know which edits would please a reader and which would dilute your voice.

♫ ㆍ Your notebooks/docs never lose structure, even if you’re jumping between ideas.

♫ ㆍ When you need inspiration, you always “randomly” stumble upon the right book, show, or quote.

♫ ㆍ Your back never hurts from long writing sessions; you shift naturally and stretch intuitively between sessions.

[grahstumhurts]

𝙍𝙪𝙜𝙗𝙮 𝙋𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙧! 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙚𝙮𝙚

𝖧𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌

ᴷᵃᵗˢᵉʸᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʳᵘᵍᵇʸ ᵖˡᵃʸᵉʳ ᵖᵃʳᵗⁿᵉʳ.

CW : Mentions of injuries, Suicide mentions

I decided not to include Yoonchae because these half-shots kinda have darker under tones and i dont exactly feel comfortable writing for her with a darker light.

ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ - ꜰᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ (ʜᴏᴏᴋᴇʀ) - ᴴᵉʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵐᵃⁿ ᴮʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖⁱˣⁱᵉˢ

The first time Manon had ever watched a rugby game had been when Megan took Katseye to Hong Kong to visit her family. Hookers have the largest impact on the scrum, They have to guide the ball out of the scrum and out to the scrum half. This has to be perfected as one wrong move and the ball will be stolen by the other hooker or will be kicked out too hard. This perfectionism is what drew Manon to you as she watched you on the Pitch, Your props pushing the other team back as much as they could as your leg nudged the ball out of the scrum for your teammate to pick up. Your attention to detail isn't only on the pitch but in lots of other aspects of your life, Manon admires your organized schedules. In her usual life, Her room stays messy until she finds the motivation to clean it. With being a hooker comes lots of hip flexibility which she is glad to help with, Stretching and a post practice routine is how you’ve maintained the flexibility to hold your own on the pitch. Though being smaller than Manon, Your muscles are quite a lot larger than hers, Especially in your legs. She loves watching your games, cheering you on at the side lines as you make tackles. She worries a lot about injuries, Physical and mental ones, Pushing you to go to physical therapy and talking therapy when you need it. The one time you don't listen to her and skip your physical therapy appointment, The next game you dislocate your shoulder. One moment you're running, pushing back defenders with a stiff arm, The next you're on the ground with the wind knocked out of you as your shoulder burns with pain. Your writhing on the ground as the referee stops the game to assess you. As you're being taken off the pitch. Manon runs down from the stands, holding your hand as they guide you into the medical room. During your recovery period, You two would just cruise around in Manon’s car, Singing any song that came on in your shared playlist. The contrast between the old rock style music and Manon’s more modern pop music makes the playlist more diverse as the two of you influence each other. 

ꜱᴏᴘʜɪᴀ - ʙᴀᴄᴋ (ꜱᴄʀᴜᴍ ʜᴀʟꜰ) - ᶜʳᵘⁱˢᵉ ᵇʸ ᶠˡᵒʳᵈⁱᵃ ᴳᵉᵒʳᵍⁱᵃ ᴸⁱⁿᵉ

You had grown up as a country kid, Raised in the rural areas doing farm work and playing American Football. Only when you found rugby did you feel like you really belonged in sports, Being the more masculine kind of person only really made you stand out more when you got into high school. Your true passion was always rugby. As a scrum half, you control the ball going into the scrum, which means that you need to be quick on your feet to receive it. Your agility keeps Sophia mesmerized while she watches your games, you navigate the defense with ease. With your play style of unselfish playing, passing off to your teammates whenever the opportunity is open, It's uncommon that you score a try. But whenever you do, Sophia is always there to celebrate after the matter. She’s always there to help you with your pregame and post game routine, Her “Mother-ly” status in Katseye makes it easy for her to fall into the routine of helping you cook food. In return, you make sure to buy her flowers whenever coming home from a game and that she knows that every try you score is for her. On game days, She would always text you “good luck” with a heart emoji. This game had been quite a normal one, when a scrum occurred. You rolled the ball through your teammates legs and picked it up, tossing it to your teammate who were already aligned for your team's attack. The scrum broke off as your Fly half runs up into the defense, passing it back down to you who was running at pace. You quickly pivot, your foot planted for a side step to quickly change directions as you felt a pop in your knee. You immediately felt a searing pain as you collapsed onto the pitch. After you were taken to the hospital by the team medics, You were ambushed by a petrified Sophia who had heard from your teammates that you were at the hospital. After finding out that you had torn your ACL, Sophia promised the doctors she would take care of you. You two spend your time together cooking, going to the beach, and hanging out with the other members. You can't take showers without your country music playlist in the background, as much as Sophia pretends to abhor your music taste she can't deny that slow dancing to Chris Stapleton and Luke Combs is something she misses while she's away during Katseye’s comebacks.

ᴅᴀɴɪᴇʟᴀ - ꜰᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ (ᴘʀᴏᴘ) - ᴶᵃᵖᵃⁿᵉˢᵉ ᴰᵉⁿⁱᵐ ᵇʸ ᴰᵃⁿⁱᵉˡ ᶜᵃᵉˢᵃʳ

Your larger frame intimidated Dani at first. Once she saw past the facade she realized you were more of a gentle giant. Props are the main source of power in a scrum and are majorly important in securing the ball during it. You pour a lot of your energy and anger into rugby as its your way of “destressing” in a way, The physicality of the sport to you is what drew you into it. From the moment you played your first match you knew you were made to play rugby, Especially growing up in a rugby household. Your family watched the 7s yearly back home in LA, so it felt right when you joined the USA 7s team and made your debut in LA where Dani first met you. She was enamored by your soft spoken “gentlewoman” attitude, Her more extraverted self felt drawn to your down to earth personality. Dani definitely tries to tackle you any chance she gets when you're standing near the couch in the Katseye house. The other members sigh as you two play fight, They have to pull you two off each other when it goes on for at least two minutes. Your on pitch demeanor in contrast to your off-pitch personality is like watching two different people in the same body. On pitch you lead by example, making the tough tackles that bring down the offense, clearing space for your backs to gain momentum, and following the plays of your scrum half. Off pitch, you're a tired teddy bear, Cuddling with Dani any free moment. Whining and pouting when you have to move, You're her muscle when she needs to move some furniture or when she's out and about to scare some pushy guy off. Only when you come home from a tough match, to see her already sitting on your apartment's couch. She watches you limp to the bedroom and hop into the shower. She doesn't prod, or push. She lets you cool off in the shower, allowing you to come to her when the time is right. When you’ve cooled off, you collapse into her arms. A mess of limbs and curls wrapped around you as you vent about your match. What had occurred was when you were pushing through the scrum, your quad started to burn as you broke out and off your hooker. You tried to brush it off, running head first into the offense. Trying to clear off some players for your team. Your coach had noticed the slight limp in your run and immediately pulled you off, Your pitch side medic told you that you had acquired a muscle strain in your hip flexor. Dani consoled you, scratching your scalp in all the right places, Kissing your forehead when you paused sentences. Showing she cared, without saying anything. The next morning she had already texted Sophia to ask for advice on what to do, and had made up her mind that she was going to take you to your physio appointment. She held your hand as you were poked with needles and wires, Instruments and stretches you were made to take home. She set up a checklist on your phone that linked to her phone as well to make sure you were doing your necessary treatments and exercises. She didn't need to say anything to you, but she took care of you. You two bond over your shared taste in RnB, You two laze in bed when both of you have a day off. Just listening to your shared playlists. Back hugs while she cooks you two brunch is what makes these off days special for her. 

ʟᴀʀᴀ- ʙᴀᴄᴋ (ᴡɪɴɢᴇʀ) - ² ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ᴮʸ ᵀᵃᵗᵉ ᴹᶜʳᵃᵉ

Score the most tries, is what you’ve been told throughout your professional career. You’ve held trophies of being the tournament MVP, But nothing could still fill that void in your heart. You longed for something deeper than tries and conversions. That something was Lara Raj, She came into your life when you least expected it. While you were in recovery from a Suicide attempt, She marched straight into your life and brought color back into a once gray field. The love for the sport you’d been playing most of your life had come back as Lara spread the different shades of Crimson red, Coral orange, Cobalt blue, Periwinkle purple, Sage green, back into your life. You two had met through an unexpected mutual, Her high school friend had coincidentally been also your college friend. From the moment you two locked eyes you hit it off, You're as obsessed with her as she is with you, The amount of admiration the both of you have for each other can be felt in the spaces you share. Her side of the shared bedroom in the Katseye is filled with photos of you two, faces flushed, Cheek kisses, Lipstick stains. Your hoodies intermix in her regular rotation of pajamas. Your apartment holds her favorite flowers in vases she specifically bought for you, Her hair ties on the nightstand next to the bed you two share. Matching phone lockscreens, all the couple stuff that makes people automatically know how much she means to you. You listen to her music when she needs a second ear, play the drums when she just “Needs” the acoustic drum sounds. She sits on your lap as she writes lyrics in her book, while you scroll lazily on your phone. But on pitch, your cleats have an engraved L.R in a heart on the side. She knows every try you score and convert is for her, In a way that is unique to the both of you. The field is your second home in a way, You sprint through the defense using all the energy you can to make it through on your feet. The ball safely tucked under your arm as you weave through defenders that you push off strongly to reach the try line. You dive onto the ground as the line is pushed behind your feet, The ball roughly jammed into the pitch as another 5 points is awarded for your efforts. But you know when you walk off that pitch and into the tunnel, a bigger reward awaits you with her arms open, Her hair smelling of cinnamon and coconut.

ᴍᴇɢᴀɴ - ꜰᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ (ᴘʀᴏᴘ) - ˢᵘᵐᵐᵉʳ ᴮʸ ᴷᵉˢʰⁱ

You grew up in the coastal city of Hong Kong, Yours and Megan's parents had actually been friends in college before your parents decided to move back to Hong Kong to have kids. You had been enamored by the beauty of rugby from a young age, its ruthless physicality and brute strength. When you had the opportunity to join the Hong Kong 7s team, you immediately accepted. Megan at the time had just debuted with Katseye, Her press conferences and performances had taken over her life. By the time the 2025 7s season rolled around you had been promoted to a starter. Katseye’s activities had died off and the members went their separate ways for a break, Megan had gone home to Hawaii. Your parents had invited her and her family to come to Hong Kong to watch you play, something they could not pass up since your parents and her parents had only seen each other once since they had moved. The way you hustled on the pitch, A smile permanently plastered on your face, had a warming feeling for Megan. She had seen clips, Heard her parents talk about your amazing skills, But to see them in person. That was different. It was as if she could feel the excitement and happiness for the sport you loved off your body as you sprinted up and down. A reunion dinner for both families, The Skiendiel's and L/n’s, had been long overdue. You and Megan’s personalities matched each other, Bouncing off lame brain rot jokes like a ping pong game. The Katseye members refer to your relationship as a Golden retriever and an Orange cat. You two clicked like two Lego pieces, as if you were made for each other in a sweet, comforting, kind of way. She tries to teach you how to dance, watching you flail your limbs trying to copy her instructions. While you try to teach her how to spin pass a rugby ball, Unsuccessful but it was worth a try. She's the rock in your life, Keeping you grounded when you float off into imaginary land. On the pitch, your largeness had earned you the position of Prop. You harness your brute strength each time a scrum is called, Pushing against the shoulders of the opposing team. Scrums had to be your favorite moments each game, Making jokes with your other teammates and even sometimes the other team. Your goofiness is known worldwide on and off the field,  You pour your heart into what you love and that was what drew her to you. Your personality on the pitch and off the pitch had been a siren song of sorts to her. When your already short season had been cut even shorter due to a serious knee dislocation, it had taken a large toll on you. After your surgery, you had already decided on visiting Megan in the US. She had come to the airport, in her disguise, waiting patiently. Sign in hand as you were wheeled to the exit by staff. The weeks you two spent together let your relationship flourish, She drove you to your appointments, While you cooked her dishes from home to reminisce. The Kats were grateful she had someone who could “Match her freak”, In the sense that you two complement each other in every way.