#I need new readers

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Actually, the bars aren't so bad anymore.

Think you can fix him? Read about his care instructions over at Tiger Tiger)

[revasserium]

to win and to lose

kenma, tsukki, hinata, kageyama; 3,200 words; fluff, lapslock, no "y/n", kissing, slightly!suggestive content, but mostly just tooth-rotting fluff, domestic bliss, post!timeskip characters, pro-streamer!kenma, olympics athlete!hinata, pouty!tsukki, and needy!kageyama

summary: you win some, you lose some, right?

a/n: truly just a few drabbles that came to my mind when i was sitting in a bath the other day; so pls enjoy some hq-flavored domesticity

kenma

“— alright chat, that’s it for today — i’ve got uh —” kenma glances over at the top of his collection of monitors at where you’re standing, holding two beers, a sly grin twisting the corner of your mouth. even in the strange blue light of his monitors, you can see his cheeks darken.

“— some stuff to do. see ya!” he ends the stream just as you round the massive table to set a beer down in front of him. he chuckles and reaches out to pull you into his lap, hooking his chin over your shoulder with a sigh.

“hey there, mr. ceo.” you smirk, twisting round to run your fingers through his hair, tugging out the loosening hair tie and cocking your head. kenma huffs, crinkling his nose, shaking his head as you continue to comb through his hair with your fingers.

“i hate it when you call me that.”

“mm, then… what would you prefer? mr… streamer boy? mr. stock trader? oh — i’ve got it! mr. simp-man.”

kenma scoffs, jerking forward so that you’re trapped against the hard edge of his gaming desk, his arms locking you to him. he’s grown since high school, but even so, his lithe build betrays the strength still hidden within his limbs from the endless hours of training, of playing.

“there’s no winning against you, is there?” he asks, his voice muffled by your skin, and you bite back a groan at the way he’s trailing his lips along the hard ridge of your collarbones. he peers up at you, a sharp, feline glint to his eyes, a hand reaching out to set your half-drunk beer on his table before hoisting you up with one arm. you squeak, the gesture taking you by surprise even as he carries you to the futon set up in strategically in the corner of the game room, put there for the nights when you’d lie there and watch him stream, when you’d close your eyes and let the rgb lights flicker across the backs of your eyelids like the northern lights, like so many midnight rainbows.

“well… seeing as you’re winning in so many other aspects in life,” you say, your voice nothing more than a sigh as he lays you down, fingers already tugging at the thin straps of your dress, “a little losing here and there might do you good, hm?”

“mm…” kenma hums, contemplative, even as he leans back and runs an appraising eye down the length of your body, “i mean… i did let kuroo talk me into joining the volleyball club back in highschool so… i guess you can say… in my own way… i’m sort of a sucker for punishment.”

tsukki.

“ah… that looked like a brutal practice,” you say, peering around the bathroom door. the sound of water splattering down skin echoes wetly through the enclosed space.

“aren’t they all?” tsukishima drawls, setting down the large wooden bath ladle to squint at you through the hazy mist. his glasses lie fogged and forgotten, set to the side.

you smile, slipping into the room with a fresh towel.

“i’ve got miso soup being warmed on the stove and an icepack in the freezer. take your time though — o-oh!”

a pair of arms reaches out to pull you down, and you barely catch yourself on the edge of the large wooden bath.

“t-tsukki! what —”

“it was a brutal practice.”

you barely hear the smirk in his voice as he sighs and props his chin on your thigh, the water from the bath staining you thin dress in seconds. you fight the urge the roll your eyes, reaching down to run your fingers through his damp hair, absently massaging at his scalp.

its rare to see him like this — rarer, even, to see him so openly vulnerable, even if there’s still the barest hint of a tease lurking beneath the tired rhythm of his voice, his breathing. like this, his long lashes are daggered into points by the steam, his normally pale skin made even more so by the bright bathroom lights.

through the water, you can see the new bruises blossoming along his thin legs, the old ones barely fading. thoughtlessly, you lean in and dip your hand in the water to trace a finger along one particularly large one at his right knee.

“what happened?” you ask, though you basically already know the answer — practice for a v2 league team happened. still, tsukishima glances down at the bruise with an oddly disembodied gaze and shrugs.

“dunno. dove to save a ball a few times.”

you laugh, tilting your head to one side as he leans back to press his cheek to your now damp thigh.

“wow, in practice? other team must’ve really pissed you off.”

at this, tsukishima crinkles his nose and scoffs. you hike an expectant eyebrow and wait.

“the jackals were over for a practice match.” his voice is clipped, but you feel your own laughter bubbling up in seconds. of course.

you bite back a giggle, “and… did you guys win?”

he glares up at you, eyes narrowed, “they’re a division one team. what do you think?”

“hm… but i thought hinata’s been off with a rolled ankle so…”

again, he scoffs, “that team’s plenty of other players who are just as annoying.”

you clamp down on your bottom lip, “wow. high praise.”

he whacks at the surface of the bath, splattering your dress even as you break into a bright peal of laughter. you reach down to flick him with a bit of water as well but he catches you wrist in his, fingers wrapping around your arm, the warm bath water slicking down your skin in thin rivulets, dripping off your elbow. you gasp, heart suddenly thrumming behind your eardrums.

the lopsided, slightly sadistic smile that slits his lips is stomach-twistingly familiar.

“tsukki… there’s miso soup —”

“mm. think i want something else for dinner instead.”

the low murmur of words is the only warning you get before you’re pulled bodily into the warm bath, the water soaking your dress, making the material cling to your skin in seconds. you squeak against his lips, rough and insistent and just a little pleading. you know it’s futile to struggle, so you let him kiss you, his teeth digging into your bottom lip as you groan, your fingers finally finding purchase along the slick skin of his shoulder.

“you — you’ve ruined my — my favorite dress…”

“hn.”

tsukishima doesn’t look at all bothered by your admonishment, shrugging, “it’ll dry.”

water sloshes over the side of the bathtub, now dangerously full with the both of you soaking in it’s steaming depths.

“was it really that bad?” you ask, affecting your voice into a soft coo, trailing wet fingers over the soft of his cheeks.

“if i say yes,” he asks, peering down at you as a lepidopterist might study a new specimen of rare, and newly captured butterfly, “would you try to make me feel better?”

you lick your lips, feeling your mouth go dry, despite being literally submerged in water.

“depends,” you say, “on if you’ll let me go turn off the stove first — wouldn’t want the miso soup to burn.”

tsukishima rolls his eyes, fingers tightening around your wrists, pulling you closer. there’s a dangerous light flickering behind his eyes; a dull ache pulses at the base of your stomach, singeing up your spine as you tip forward for another long kiss.

“thought i said already… i don’t think i really want miso soup for dinner anymore.”

hinata.

there’s a certain magic in watching him play — the way he treats every win like his first, or his last. the way the world seems brighter right around his edges, as if his own shimmer and shine might infect the universe if it would only let him.

he is incandescent with joy after the olympic qualifier games — scoring a ticket is no mean feat, and it’s not every day that you see bokuto cry.

“congrats, shouyou!” you’re one of the first to greet him after the press stint (and a shower), but you can still see the brilliant, glazed look to his eyes that tells you he’s still riding his high. his smile is wide enough to split the sky as he spots you, jogging over to hoist you up into his arms, spinning you round with almost comical ease.

“haha — thanks!”

he leans up for a kiss, one that’s sweet as it is heady. when you pull apart, you are still weightless, and his smile shines like a smile on pause — it makes you want to unpause it, and watch it unfurl.

you trace the pads of your thumbs along the tiny freckles dotting his cheekbones — souvenirs from his time in brazil.

“so! are you gonna come watch us?” he asks, making to walk down the decidedly not deserted hallway with you still in his arms. you blush at the thought, giving his shoulders a slight squeeze.

“shouyou… you can put me down now — and of course i’ll come! it’s not everyday that your boyfriend makes it to the olympics.”

several people chuckle as they watch him parade passed, you still firmly held aloft, your elbows propped on his shoulders to give you some semblance of balance. your cheeks burn as hinata hums, waving at a fellow teammate, reaching out for a fist bump.

“shou…” you fight the urge to bury your face in his shoulder as he finally rounds a corner into a much more private hallway. he grins, completely unabashed, as he pushes through an unmarked door to a what seems to be an empty locker room. it’s sparse, but well-lit and quiet.

“hm?”

he sets you down on one of the benches and drops a quick kiss onto your shoulder.

“i could’ve walked…”

“didn’t feel like putting you down,” he says, his voice dropping in register and taking on that darker, baser veneer — you hear the frayed edges, the sandstone texture, a tell-tale sign of a deep-seated hunger. a very specific brand of shouyou-flavored want.

“n-ngh —” you make a soft noise as he dips down to nuzzle into the dip of your collarbone, a tiny groan festering up the back of his throat as he sighs.

“been thinking about this…” his fingers dance up your sides, light enough to tease, but solid enough to remind you of just how close you both are to a ruthless press and the oogling public.

“sh-shou let’s wait —”

hinata whines, shaking his head, his hair tickling at the skin of your neck, “don’t wanna.”

and you sigh, weighing the option of pushing back or giving in. each has dangers and merits, but you know better than most that when hinata gets like this, indulgence is usually the only answer that will satisfy.

“plus… i just won a ticket to the olympics! don’t you think that deserves some kind of —” he casts around for a good enough word, pulling back with a smile that, in the right kind of slanted, locker room light, might just look like a smirk, “reward?”

you cock your head and blink up at him, letting your fingers tangle in the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck, “what? the olympics ticket wasn’t enough of a reward for you?”

at this, hinata pouts, pushing his bottom lip out far enough for you to lean forward and bite it. the movement makes him groan, his whole body tipping forward to cage you back against the row of cool, metal lockers.

“you shouldn’t do that if you don’t think you can finish the job,” he says, pulling back just far enough for the heat of his breath to fan across your spit-slick lips. you lave your tongue across them, shifting beneath him as he cocks his head to stare down at you, his eyes wide and dark and misty.

“and… what job might that be?” you ask, breathless even as he dips down again to catch your lips in his, reaching down to tug you bodily up the length of the lockers before pinning you in place. once upon a time, it was easy to forget how strong he is — but now, it’s even easier to spot the stretch and flex of muscle beneath his sun-kissed skin, feel the strength of them as he holds you still with a single hand, the other tugging down the neckline of your top.

“mm… the job —” he skims his teeth across your skin; you gasp, eliciting a small, satisfied chuckle from him, “of being an olympic athlete’s girlfriend, of course!”

kageyama.

it is never the losing, and always the aftermath, and by now, you know the shades and slivers of all his specific kinds of silences so intimately that you know without him having to say how the practice match had gone.

“hey.”

you greet him by the door with a soft, placatory kiss. he grunts, toeing off his shoes before dipping down to wrap both his arms around you and pull you close. you let out a breathy laugh as you feel his nose digging into the curve of your shoulder.

“want some dinner?” you ask, reaching up to stroke his sweat-soaked hair even though you already know the answer.

“later,” he says, making no sign of wanting to let you go. instead, when you try to pull away, he leans down and scoops you up to place you on top of the kitchen island, slotting himself between your knees, and re-burying his face in your shoulder.

“then…” you let your voice trail off, feeling the exhaustion pour off him in waves. you dig your fingers into the tense line of his shoulders and feel them tighten up before they fall slack again. for a few minutes, he contents himself with letting you massage the worst of the knots from his shoulders.

“hn.” he lifts his head only to lean forward and find your lips with his. the kiss is slow and just a bit tired — as sweet as it is thorough. in the beginning, you’d worried that dating someone like kageyama would end up being the kind of short-lived thing that all the tabloids and magazines had warned you about — that he might grow bored after a week, a month, maybe half a year. after all, someone like him, with that insatiable need for more wouldn’t be suited for the kind of so-called ‘domestic bliss’ as it’s prescribed of most long-term relationships. but he’d surprised you, in more ways than one. he’d not only not grown bored, but had seemingly become ever more… entranced.

the pair of you had grown into each other, each day steadily getting closer. until the space the two of you shared became so inextricably linked there’s no telling who’s breath was caught in each of your lungs, of who’s scent it was that lingered in the fine linen lining of all your pillows and sheets. it’s become your’s. in the most cliche way possible.

kageyama contents himself with kissing you, breaking for small breath, and then kissing you some more. one kiss falling into another, and another, and another. till you’re breathless in just way he likes, till he’s breathless, in the way that he gets sometimes during a particularly intense rally. he knows he’s sweat-sticky and probably stinks of the gym, but the way you smile up at him when he pulls away makes his whole body go soft.

“let’s take a shower before dinner,” you say, tracing a finger along the shell of his ear. he bites back a frown.

“not a bath?”

you laugh, shrugging, “we could — but the food’ll go cold.”

“we’ve got a microwave.”

you smile, a smile that inspires — no, demands — another kiss. and so he does. you make a tiny, exasperated noise but don’t make to pull away. kageyama reaches down to pick you up, settling your thighs on either side of his hips as he maneuvers the pair of you towards the bathroom.

“food’ll be there when we’re done,” he mutters, gently placing you down on the side of the bathtub and reaching over to turn on the hot water. the steam rises in thick sheets from the surface of the water, and already, kageyama can feel his limbs loosening at the thought of a nice, long soak. he catches you watching as he strips off his practice clothes.

“see something interesting?” his voice is so measured you’d never know he’s teasing, save for the tiniest hint of mischief in his eyes. you blush and look away, tugging off your own clothes in an attempt to distract yourself. the water sloshes around his ankles as he steps into the bath, and you join him a second later, curling up against his chest as he winds his arms around you, the pair of you settling against each other like nesting spoons, cut perfectly for each other’s every bend and curve. or perhaps like russian dolls, one encasing the other — wholly and completely.

“when’s practice tomorrow?” you ask, turning to watch him lean back, his eyes falling shut to the soft trickle of water over skin. you know the answer, and so does he. but he shifts and answers you anyway.

“not till noon.”

“good,” you say, turning back to rest your head on his shoulder, “we can have a proper breakfast.”

“we always have a proper breakfast.”

you laugh, absently walking your fingers up the length of his bent leg, drawing tiny circles on his exposed knee, poking out of the water like a pale island amidst the green-tinted water.

“i can grill mackerel tomorrow — i’ll have the time.”

outside, the moon is white and full with love, the sky bloated with countless shimmering stars. inside the gentle quiet of your home, kageyama leans forward to trail a kiss to the bend of your bare shoulder; you reach back to cup his cheek. when he turns your face for yet another kiss, it is sleepy and happy, long and lazy. full, weighted, soaked through with the kind of surrender only known to those who love and are in love.

“the food’ll really be cold —” you gasp, twisting away from kageyama’s growingly insistent lips, “if we keep going like this.”

he makes a slightly irked noise before caging you back against him with a deep frown, “you said so yourself — we’ve got time tomorrow. so —” he leans in to bump his nose against yours, waiting for permission. you chew on your lips for a second longer before conceding. and he’s right — isn’t that what microwaves are for?

[dawnbreakerluna]

im utterly speechless like actually …

[leafwateraddict]

Couldn’t stop thinking about Dust being able to pass as Classic. So I had an idea where Dust replaces Classic in a timeline and steals(?) his partner.

He gets conflicted when he starts actually caring about you… But denial is an easy road to take when there’s seemingly no consequences to your actions.

The reveal i guess. Most normal reaction to learning your partners been replaced for god knows how long and you have no clue where he is.

Now that I think about it I might’ve gotten some inspiration from that one chapter of IJAG by @htsan (iykyk) only a lil bit tho

(Full rambling of the idea + extra sketch cuz i liked the expression) ↓↓

I originally wanted y/n to notice the differences instantly but i think it would be angstier if they didn’t and only noticed like months later >:3

[amourrs]

it’s senior year and you hate ellie williams. you hate the way she talks to you- the semi-texan drawl that comes out every time she teases you, grating against your ears and drawing heat to your face. you hate the way she cuts her hair- the fluffy layers of the mullet she cuts herself over the sink, so damn soft and attr— no. fuck. what are saying? you hate her, her and the way she stares at you every chance she gets: in class as you get into another fight with the teacher over yet another assignment set on a bullshit misogynistic book, from her bike as you avoid her gaze after school ends for the day and slam the door of your car so hard the tires bounce, from across the street in town as you accidentally meet her stare and tear your eyes away, praying desperately for the evil eye to land upon her. you hate her big dumb combat boots- the huge clumpy soles and ugly laces and the logo of a riot grrrl band you introduced her to stickered on the side, beginning to peel away from the surface. (really, you’re more pissed about the sticker than the boots.) you hate the way she reads your mind- god, you want to hit her. you hate her so much it makes you sick, it even makes you rhyme- “stop looking at me, you prick! suck my dick!” screamed angrily across the parking lot when you catch her staring. you hate the way she’s always right, like when she said she knew a little part of you found her smoking attractive even though you criticised her for it. you hate it when she lies- like when her head was squeezed between your thighs and her mouth was licking a firm stripe up to your clit and she swore you were heaven and she would never do anything to hurt you. you hate it when she makes you laugh- her flippant jokes at everything that make your lips tilt against your own will, heart racing faster as you bite back giggles. you hate it when she makes you cry. prom. what jesse said. the money. how she was paid to date you. ellie’s guilty face. how it was all a fucking act- but the worst part? is that even now, after you’ve sworn off ellie williams for good, you hate it when she’s not around. and that the thing you really hate is that after everything went down, she didn’t even call. but mostly, you hate the way you don’t hate her— not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

[missmimii]

HIS EYES??

I’m so beyond done

[nomazee]

“This is unnecessary.”

At Blade’s snide comment, you pull sharply at the strands of his hair in your hands. He grunts in displeasure before obediently quieting down, only a little scared of you scalping him if he annoys you any further. 

Perched behind him on the couch while he sits on the floor, your hands find themselves coming through his hair (long, smooth, untangled despite the fact that you’ve never seen him take a brush to it). Your efforts to part his hair with just your fingers are fruitless. His hair is thick on the top, so much so that you’re surprised his neck doesn’t constantly ache with the weight of it. Your hands pause, resting on the top of his head while you try and figure out how you’ll style it. 

“Be nice,” you warn, two hands on the sides of his head tilting it from side to side, treating him as a foam mannequin on which you can project your very thorough cosmetology skills. “Your fate is quite literally in my hands. I could knock you out and shave you bald very easily.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he says earnestly, and you can’t help the way your lips twinge into a smile. “This is clearly a hassle. My hair looks fine the way it is.”

“It does,” you admit, “but wouldn’t it be nice to try something new? And at no cost to you, aside from mild scalp pain. I’m good at hair. I did Kafka’s that one time.” You fail to mention that it was only one time for good reason. Kafka said that you handle hair the same way a lobster would handle a violin—that is, with clumsy hands and a clear lack of refinement. She had to hide every pair of scissors from you in fear that you'd give Silver Wolf microbangs.

As if on cue, your fingers get caught in an unexpected snag in Blade’s hair, and you pull and tug and yank as if expecting it to untangle on its own. Blade hisses and reaches a hand back to smack you on the wrist, turning around to glare at you. 

“Watch it,” he orders, gentle but firm. There’s not enough heat in his words to scare you, and his eyes are a particularly beautiful shade of copper in the dim, flickering light of this dingy lounge room. Whatever you say, beautiful, you think to yourself hysterically. 

After a few half-willed apologies from you and some nudges of encouragement, Blade finally relaxes enough to turn back around and tilt his head back in your lap, letting your fingers play with his hair nonsensically. A braid, you decide, would look quite nice on him. One long one down the back. If you had ribbon, you’d use some to tie his hair, but all you have is one of Kafka’s tragically thin hair ties. 

“It’s a nice color,” you comment absentmindedly, pretending that you can’t see the way Blade’s eyes have shut in contentment at your gentle prodding. “It changes in the light a little bit. It looks very blue now, but I’ve always thought it was black.” You section his hair off into three pieces, loosely laying one over the other over and over again. The aged gold ornament still hangs securely in his hair, and you don’t do anything to move it. It suits him. 

“It’s natural, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he tells you, the slightest twinge of a joke in his voice. It plays at your smile and at your heart, too. 

“You say that now, but you’ll be scrambling to come up with a lie when I find box dye in your bag.” 

He only hums in response, reluctantly enjoying the feeling of your hands on him—they’re gentle, and you can imagine he’s not quite used to this. It’s an addictive feeling, to have him at your mercy, even with just your hands in his hair. There’s trust, unspoken, lingering warmly in the air and settling like condensation on your skin. You could very easily do a number of things that would hurt Blade—kill him, almost. You’ve only ever thought of it a few times, and those were all a very long time ago. 

You don’t think of it that often anymore. All you’re paying attention to is Blade and the splitting ends of his hair and how nice he’d look with a red ribbon tied in. 

“We should go shopping,” you tell him, voice close to a whisper now. You’ve secured the end of his braid already, and your handiwork is admirable. The strands are neatly crossed over each other, uniform in size with each other as they taper down into the end. “Some clips for you would be nice.” Absentmindedly, you comb through the layers of hair near his face, digging your fingers gently into the sides of his face and scratching at his scalp. 

“And where exactly would we go shopping? We’re not exactly upstanding members of society in some people’s eyes.” 

“Then I’ll make clips for you,” you say, a naive kind of dedication in your tone. “I used to work with metal, a little bit. I could make jewelry. Ornaments for your hair. I’ll put a ribbon in next time.” 

“What makes you think there’ll be a next time?” Blade asks doubtfully, in steep contrast with the way he lets your hands roam along his scalp, and the way his head leans back into you as if he’s comfortable. 

“You’re a loyal customer,” you quip, “you’d never let somebody else do your hair when you have me as a dedicated stylist.” 

“I’m your only customer.” 

“I know,” and in a moment of weakness—because at the end of the day that’s what you are, weak, malleable and moveable when you’re with Blade like this—you lean down just a little bit, pressing a stupid clumsy kiss on the crown of his head. Your fingers trail down to trace the bumps of the braid, the divots and grooves in it, made by your hands, and yours alone. “That just means I can put all my effort towards you alone.” 

“You shouldn’t.” And he means it when he says that, and it hurts you, puts a sickly pang in your chest that you want to reach for and tear out before it grows into something worse. 

“But I will,” you tell him. Blade is stubborn, but not stubborn enough to keep it up. Not now, not here, not when the overhead lights are flickering and making his hair look just a little bluer, illuminating the warmer ends of his hair, glinting off the metal ornament still clipped into it. He rests between your hands, still sitting on the cold floor, pretending that he isn’t falling asleep with you like the fool he secretly is.

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

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[yeyinde]

stalker!Ghost who gets tired of these little games you keep playing with him (blocking his number, changing your locks), and decides to take matters into his own hands. after all, it says something that you went out of your way to get a restraining order against him—accompanied by a scathing, bratty little message about leaving you alone. boundaries. him being a creep. as if everything he does to protect you was an inconvenience. was for nothing. maybe his old man was right. maybe some brats need a good, hard lesson in respect.

one he feels obligated to give.  

so. he comes for you. presses the muzzle of his gun against your trembling lip, and tells you to stick that pretty tongue out for him, birdy. 

(since you want to be so lippy, he'll give you something to mouth off on.)

[cheeseceli]

Thinking about how...

Mingi has a boyish smile, you notice.

He's pretty famous for being this tough, tall and intimidating (in the best way possible) guy. His smiles often turn out into smirks and you just know that he has full consciousness of his qualities.

However, when it's just the two of you he seems very... boyish. His voice gets a little bit higher, like he is a kid who's getting excited about their favourite show. His eyes seem like they are discovering the little things about life for the first time. And his smile is pure. And so is his laugh.

It seems like little giggles at first. It seems like he finds everything amusing and it's precious to see this. He laughs like life's worth living. He smiles like he's grateful to be by your side.

You like this side of him. And he likes how you make this side of him flourish.

You've just read: Smile - a Mingi soft thought

Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[emma045]

[jamjaemin]

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

BOYFRIEND!MINGI / NEEDY!FEM READER

⤏ Synopsis: After all those whines your boyfriend mingi agreed and went with you to the convenience store despite the late hour just to buy your fav popcorn and didn't expect the heavy rain ; after getting soaked —you ended up having a steamy sex in his car—

⤏ Warning(s): nsfw, car sex, size kink, swearing, unprotected sex (stay safe), creampie, hair pulling, degradation mixed with praises, a slight of daddy kink.

⤏A/N: I can't stop thinking about how big mingi is I mean look at him there's no way he doesn’t have a thing for being bigger like bfr, the urge to write this oh god.

Rain was pouring down on top of you without mercy, drenching the both of you.

Your boyfriend’s grip on your hand tightened, your intertwined fingers clinging onto each other as he pulled you forward. 

Neither of you was wearing a rain coat, you hadn’t brought an umbrella, you hadn’t been prepared.

Taking your final sprint the two of you reached the black car and you stared Mingi down as he searched for the second set of keys inside of his pocket.

Unlocked the doors and finally allowed you to shove into the dry passenger seat. You wheezed when the rain stopped ruffling on your shoulders as your boyfriend rushed to the seat next to you and closed the door in a hurry, shutting out the wind. 

For a second the two of you remained silent as you shivered against each other, trying to cling onto any spark of warmth you could find.

“Look at us.” Mingi muttered after a while, looking down on the both of you and noting that you both looked like drowned cats.

Your hair was dripping, sticking against your face in strings, a drop of water was rolling down your nose. Worry came over him when he felt you shaking beside him, afraid that you would get sick. So he start the engine to turn up the heating.

His breath hit on top of your cheeks as his eyes scanned your face, taking in the redness of your nose and the drips stuck in your lashes.

“I can turn you into a hot mess.” He muttered lowly and you didn’t need him prove that to you in order to know that he was right. 

"prove it.” you said with a clear lust in your eyes, especially when your gaze dropped to his wet shirt that is sticking to his toned chest and abs.

"Wait until we get home, you will pay for this" He said confidently and then started driving slowly due to the heavy rain but you were stubborn and couldn't handle one more minute.

"Please daddy I need you now" you whine softly acting like the brat you are when you don't get what you wanted.

“Fuck” he breathed sorely, almost too low for you to hear it.

You watched as Mingi’s fingers were digging further into the steering wheel, rubbing it strongly.

“I wish your hands were doing that to me right now” you whispered in his ear, biting his earlobe tenderly.

“Such a needy slut” Mingi whispered under his breath and made a turn to the left.

He pulled the car into the side of a random road, turning off the engine. You leaned back into your seat, as he turned his head to look at you.

His eyes were dark and craving, you always loved seeing. His thumb softly ran across your lips, as his gaze fell on you.

“i spoiled you so much didn't i?” he breathed, your heart hammer against your chest at his words.

Mingi’s eyes were burning on you; you figured he was mentally undressing you, right in this very moment.

You grabbed for his thumb and sucked on it roughly. It made Mingi close his eyes in pleasure, as he licked his own lips. Mingi leaned closer to you.

"Tell me, what do you want?." he said raising his eyebrow.

"Fuck me please." you whispered, breathing a little faster.

“In the backseat of my car?” he teased, letting his hands run down your body.

You pressed your hands further down the sticky leather seat, feelings mingi’s hands go on adventure down your body.

“Mingi, please” you begged him more. He smirked at you, biting his lips harshly.

He knew it. He knew what he was doing to you and he loved every second of it. Slowly his hands ran over your thigh, making every fibre in your body ache, before undoing your seatbelt.

“Get in the back”

“Really?” you asked, biting your lip.

He watched as your eyes grew bigger, which made him nod slowly at you.

Only a few seconds after, you crawled to the backseat, Your boyfriend followed straight behind.

He pressed your back against the leather seat, before planting a wet kiss on your lips. Greedily, you spread his lips and let your tongue enter his craving mouth. With each hand on the side of your head, he pushed himself further into the kiss.

You grabbed around Mingi’s back, digging your nails into his shirt, but surely he felt the touches you left behind anyways.

His hands ran down your body, embracing places that made you twist by his tender touches. Your back was sticking to the leather, as your body became warmer and steamier.

the windows in the car hazy, It's dark inside and outside the car, but not so much that you can't see each others, breathing mixed with the sound of falling rain and a lot of longing, need, desire...

“Be good for me, little girl” Mingi whispered into your lips, as his tongue continued down your neck, leaving a wet trail behind. His words made a warm feeling spread through your veins.

“promise I'll be good!” you breathed desperately.

Mingi’s eyes met yours and a smug painted itself on his lips.

His hands ran down your body, reaching your legs and gently, he unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them off you. Slowly, he spread your legs with his strong hands. Your body trembling under him.

He let a finger or two rub against your clit, which made you swirl your back in deep pleasure, pushing your hands so far down the seat, trying to control your movement.

Mingi’s fingers playing teasingly with you, made you wish he’d just pull of your fucking panties already.

“You’re so wet already, my little whore hmm? So small and perfect for me”.

“Mhm, Please” you begged frantically.

You couldn’t even open your eyes to look at him, it simply just felt too good, but you could imagine that smug written all over his face and shortly after, you heard a slight laugh escape Mingi’s lips.

Slowly, almost mocking you, his long fingers grabbed around the hem of the black panties and pulled them down to your ankles.

He wants to fuck you harder than he had ever before and that’s what exactly happend.

You swayed your back, hungrily meeting his thrust, screaming out his name loudly. A wide smirk grew on his whimpering lips, when he heard your sore voice.

“That’s right, slut. Say my name, let me hear those pretty noises.” he moaned against your bare neck.

Mingi’s body was burning, his black t-shirt thrown on the seat next to you and your hands grabbing on his shoulders.

His fingers intervened your damp hair, tugging it roughly. It hurt, but the way it hurt, made you worship the pain.

Your touches on Mingi’s bare skin forced him to close his eyes, before another growl leaked out of his mouth.

Mingi’s hips smashed against yours, allowing every inch of his thickness to fill you out.

“hmm, i feel it. Dont you dare look away, i will stop if you look away” he breathed sorely feeling your folds squeezing his his cock and you have no choice but to look up at him.

"C-cumming!" You moaned as u were close to exploding, but by the pleasure consuming Mingi, so was he.

"Cum with me, doll" He rasped as he pulled out, getting ready to smash himself into you again, you pushed your lower body up, meeting his move. It allowed the both of you to burst in a steamy moment of bliss.

Every twitch of your small body under him make him proud of what he did to you.

"Yeah, keep shaking keep fucking shaking."

[lavendermin]

hostess club au with hostess reader and jing yuan who is a regular that always asks for you because you naturally carry a pleasant conversation with him. Both steadily becoming too attached to the other, borderline crossing the cordial hostess-patron boundaries.

You’re practically sitting on his lap, yet it’s not inherently sexual. It’s comfortable and quite tame as you both have some light banter and casual conversations that flow and continue without end. As if you’d been friends for centuries.

Being a favorite for Feixiao too… squished between both of them in the quaint little booth as you chat and sip on bubbly drinks for hours on end

[yayll]

~ a little something about Dazai surprising you on your day off ~

Dazai's not by any means an early riser... That is unless he gets to see you that day.

It's 8 AM and he's tapping his fingers against his pant leg lightly, but he's actually really anxious and impatient. He’s waiting for you to open the front door and flash him that life changing smile of yours he’s been coveting for all week. Today’s your day off and he's decided to come over and spend the day with you so he can cherish every single moment, totally not because he’s slacking off work and wants to do the only other thing he does with his life other than avoid his responsibilities: Be the bane of your existence. You also have a nasty little habit of being a workaholic and he's here to break that once and for all. He's completely spaced out now, lips pursed and brows slightly furrowed in thought when suddenly-

You finally open the door. His angel, his everything. He immediately switches his whole demeanor, eyes twinkling as he scans your figure. You’re still in pajamas, and your hair looks messy. You look absolutely delectable for someone who just woke up to 3 missed calls and 10 texts. Dazai smirks as he leans in, wiggling his brows in an exaggerated manner.

"Well look who’s finally awake! What a sleepy little thing you are. Makes me jealous of that stupid bed of yours… Did you get my texts? Come here"

He looms over you in the middle of the doorway, kissing you softly, tenderly and hungrily.

You blink, and before you can catch your bearings you’re interrupted by the softness of his eager lips. If your mouth opens, he’s pouncing. After a few moments of uninterrupted bliss, you pull back, eyes still drowsy and breathing a bit shallow. You yawn, running your fingers through your bedhead.

“Sorry. I, um… was still asleep until now. I was trying to sleep in-”

He gasps, and tilts his head, as if baffled by this.

“Now why would you do that when we have plans today?”

“... We don’t, though?”

Dazai laughs, dismissing your rightful confusion. He knows you guys never discussed plans, he just doesn't care. He lightly pinches your nose in between his fingers.

“We do! It’s why I let you sleep in for a few extra hours before coming over.”

You lazily swat at him, crinkling your nose. He’s swooning! Dazai feels a jolt of electricity through his body upon seeing the way you respond to his doting. Making you flustered is his favorite entertainment, besides suicide of course.

“But it’s 8 AM.”

“Exactly! That’s like half the day."

"... How long have you been up for?”

He rolls his eyes affectionately as he buffs his knuckles on his tan coat, replying with a nonchalant hum.

“Hmm, not important— What’s for breakfast?”

He lets himself into your apartment and you sigh into a defeated smile that somehow still holds affection for this ridiculous man. You follow him as he strides to the kitchen and fold your arms across your chest.

“You know, I’m kinda grumpy right now. It’s too early, Osamu. I need my sleep."

“And might I say you look absolutely stunning when you’re grumpy? How ever did I get this lucky…”

“Keep it up and I’ll get even worse, you goofball.”

Dazai smiles, it’s sly and dangerous. A challenge, he hears? He pretends to think for a moment, his finger placed on his lips as if really contemplating something. He’s just picturing what you’d look like yelling at him. Heavenly, of course. He flashes you a tender smile as if you just said the most romantic thing and curls his arm around your waist, whispering.

“Ooh, then I can’t wait to see worse.~”

You roll your eyes, unable to help the pink hue spreading over your face. Maybe you're still half asleep, maybe you’re just hopelessly in love with him. Either way you’re screwed. You whine with a hint of annoyance.

“Osamuuuu…”

Oh how he loves when you say his name like that. Maybe it’s time for you two to skip breakfast, he already does anyway, but he knows you actually need nutrients to function. He replies in a singsong voice.

“Yeeesss?”

“I’m making pancakes and you are going to sit down and wait.”

You point at the kitchen counter trying to be stern, and of course, failing miserably.

He looks back at the stool and then back at you. He leans within inches of your face, his nose poking yours. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly and winks.

“No can do, cutie~”

You two spend the morning making breakfast, or at least trying to. YOU are trying to, anyway. Everytime you go to gather ingredients, he’s already handing them to you. When your back is turned to him, you feel his arms snaking around you as you flip pancakes unevenly due to the distracting trail of kisses he's leaving down your neck. You secretly smile to yourself whenever you’re not feigning irritation, you know he loves the banter… Why not indulge the poor man?

You serve two plates and sit down, along with two mugs of coffee. Dazai isn’t allowed to have caffeine around you, but once again, you took pity on him today for some reason… or is it his mystifying persuasion manipulation at play here? He takes a sip of his mug and a satisfying ‘Ahh’ releases soon after. He flickers his eyes towards you as you're about to sip yours as well, and it’s like the world stops. His pupils dilate and he watches intently as the rim reaches your lips, resting his chin on his palm as he leans lazily over the counter. He’s like a dog watching its owner adoringly. During his trance-like state, he thinks about how if you lived together this would be his every day routine. He could get used to watching you drink coffee and eat food. You'd wake up next to each other and hold hands as you watch the sun rise. He would tell you how breathtaking you look with bedhead and make you late for work after failing to keep his hands to himself. Maybe then you wouldn't think he's such an impenetrable wall of secrets. He wonders if there's a future where all of that happens... He snaps out of it, and murmurs.

“Can I have a taste?”

You perk up and look over, tilting your head to the side, amused.

“What, the coffee? You have your own.”

He’s so focused now, staring at your full lips, thinking of a proper answer. He wants to tell you that he's never had intimate moments like these with anyone else and he doesn’t know how long it’ll last before his luck with you runs out, that he’s afraid you’ll see right through his one dimensional facade and leave him for good. That you won’t follow him to his untimely demise should he ever fall, so he has to capture every second of it so he can keep you in his mind forever. He has to lock you up in his heart and throw away the key, otherwise becoming a man of virtue loses all its meaning.

Instead, he opts for the less complicated route, the corners of his lips curling up into a coy smile as he places a gentle hand on your thigh.

“No, your lips, dummy. I want to taste the coffee off of your lips.”

There are no words for the audacity of Osamu Dazai and the feelings thrashing inside you when he says things like that. You smile bashfully and look away, unable to accept his shameless flirting.

“You’re so weird, Osamu…”

“Mm, I'm so yours. No takesies backsies.~"

You slowly meet his gaze, his watchful eyes that ooze devotion practically holding yours hostage… God, you are so beautiful to him. Before you can even register it, Dazai scoops you up bridal style and carries you to the living room, laying you down on the soft couch. His eyes darken as he looks down at you, his fingers tracing the outline of your lips. As soon as you show him the look of love that gives him the consent he’s looking for, he doesn’t think twice about it. He grabs your chin and pulls you into a messy kiss. He kisses you rough, his tongue almost immediately sliding into your mouth as he moans into you. His moans turn into whimpers, like he's been starved of touch for far too long and you're satiating the hunger. He needs to taste the coffee you just drank, and he wants you to know exactly how much he's been aching for this moment. For your much needed day off. For you.

He keeps his hand at your chin, pressing you down deeper into the couch with his hips grinding against yours as he tastes the acidity of the coffee along with the honey you sweetened it with.

Finally, when you literally cannot breathe, you pull away with your dazed and blissed out expression, all red in the face just like he loves. You mumble in between pants.

“Wait— So... What exactly was the plan for today?”

He looks up from running his tongue along your jawline and flashes you that infamously deceptive smile he perpetually keeps on his face, tapping his index finger on your cheek. His voice comes out in a breathy whisper.

“Breakfast.”

“.. But we already had breakfast.”

He sighs deeply and his finger ghosts its way from your cheek down to the waistband of your pajama bottoms as he needily mumbles in your ear.

“Still hungry.. I’m a growing boy, you know.~”

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head.

"You're going to tire me, Osamu.. Work wears me out enough as is-"

He wiggles a finger at you, face full of sickening desire as he carefully lowers his head down by your stomach, resting his cheek on your soft flesh. He murmurs in that soft pleading way that drives you insane when he combos it with his reverent touch.

"Listen to me, please. No more work talk... No more stressing out your pretty self, okay? I haaaaate demanding jobs. It only takes you away from me."

You look down and simply nod, your eyes trained on the way he looks at you from under his lashes and the soft brown hair that frames his face. Your heart races with anticipation as a smile slowly creeps up onto your lips. You don't need words for what comes next.

For the rest of the day, he makes sure you have the best time off, it's the least he can do as your incredibly attentive and not selfish at all boyfriend! A day where you can shut out all thoughts of work... along with literally anything else that doesn't relate to him.

Unfortunately for you, there is no resting involved on said day. Fortunately for Dazai, you look so cute as you writhe under him for hours on end. That'll get it through your pretty little skull not to work so much.

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

me: i’m in my [character/fandom] era. i think it’s going to be permanent

also me, literally a week later: i’m in my [different character/fandom] era. i think it’s going to be permanent

[zaruba-needslove]

Due to recent issue with some people arguing about how ‘AO3 should have algorithm’ and such... I feel like these tweets need to be shared out more. Saw this tweets thread by chance and I had to admit it's a great advice esp on fic writing or fanworks in general.

[Edit] Also since I noticed this post blowing up, if anyone ever tell you that AO3 doesn’t have a function to RECCOMMEND fics you like to others or read other people’s fic recs on the site point them to this post.

[Edit 2] Check source for the original tweet.

[Edit 3] Not OP, but usually when ppl talk about ‘rude or demanding comments’ it usually refers to those that tend to message fanwriters to write according to what they want to be either on the flow of the plot, shipping, etc to the point of harrassment/toxicity. And that would make writing not be fun anymore for some. 

[s4wdvator]

a friend of a friend — sam winchester

SUMMARY: Sam went to a Halloween party because of his best friend, and when he found himself bored and wanting to leave, his friend finally decided to introduce him a friend.

PAIRING: Stanford!Sam Winchester x fem!reader

WORDS COUNT: 2.2K

WARNINGS: smut, y/n used two times *i guess*, gentle sam, oral sex (f! receiving), p in v, kisses, sam playing breasts, sam embarrassed, sassy reader lmaojejejej

a/n: I literally think I nailed it this time HHEHEJE, I literally loved writing this. I love Stanford! Sam. I think I should write something with him lol. Have a good read!!

sam winchester | masterlist | more abt me!

English is not my first language, I apologize if there is any mistake <3 (maybe I interchange 'he' and 'she' too much. I'm so sorry)

This fic will have sexual content. MDNI

Sam was not a party guy, especially those of Halloween - which reminded him of his reality- He didn't have many friends in his childhood or adolescence, he never managed to stay long enough in a school to have real friends or even a girl. But then when he managed to cut ties with his father and won a scholarship at Stanford University, he felt free for the first time.

In just a few days at the University, a blonde girl named Jessica soon befriended Sam, and with this new friendship with Jess, he became invited to events, outings and parties of Jessica's most popular friends.

Now, Sam is stuck at a Halloween party in some dorm. He has a plastic cup with any drink he found and drank, he was really already under the influence of alcohol but not necessarily drunk. He looked around the old couch he was sitting on, where just staring at the place he was in, made him sigh, because all he wanted was to be in his dorm, quiet and just studying, nothing very difficult to have, if Jessica hadn't begged.

It had been almost half an hour since he was there, doing nothing, just trying to finish the drink from his glass. When he really couldn't finish, he just left it next to a fainted guy on the couch. He got up, looking for Jessica, just to say goodbye to his friend, he was determined to leave there. As he walked, he murmured several "I'm sorry" to the lowest people he ended up bumping into. When he finally found Jess, she was in the kitchen talking to some girl who was with her back to him, where he just saw the back costume, which was from Alice in Wonderland.

"Sam!" Jess said excitedly as she faced her friend.

"Hey..." Sam said in a simple and slightly embarrassed way for being close to a presence he doesn't know.

"I'm glad you're here," Jessica said, throwing the typical mischievous look and smiling, "Well, this one is y/n!" The blonde said smiling and excited, she was definitely drunk.

Jess had definitely already talked about this friend of hers, y/n, like, Jessica had been trying to get this girl for him for almost a month.

"Well, I'll let you talk. I'm going to go after a refill," Jess said getting up and smiling at the two friends and soon leaving the kitchen.

"Hey...I'm Sam. Jess she had already said...a lot about you" He said putting his hands on the back of his neck and scratching, in a shame.

You can't help but smile, he was definitely cute and clearly under this outfit—that you couldn't identify what his fantasy was—he had a muscular chest and trunk, maybe nothing really exaggerated. It was crazy how, you hadn't even spoken to him properly and you already imagined him shirtless.

"Well... Hi Sam" You said excitedly, while smiling. You didn't know if it was already alcohol taking over your mind or you were just really happy.

You and Sam were talking for long minutes, you found out that his major here at Stanford was right, he is 21 years old, he has one more brother, Dean, 25 years old, his mother died in a kind of fire or something, and he and his father fought. His life was chaos, definitely. But apparently he loved you and loved the fact that you were studying psychology here at Stanford, since he didn't say a word to talk about. Everything he said, he found a way to return to the subject due to the fact that you are a future psychologist. He also praised you too much, this guy is a real gentleman.

With a few more minutes of conversation, the party started to get music and more colorful led's which caused you to no longer be able to talk so clearly when listening to each other.

"Do you want to go to my dorm?" You finally had the courage to ask him, of course, with a slight hesitation and fear of what the answer would be and if it would be some kind of rejection.

"Of course" He smiled more sympathetically at you.

When you had already gone to your dorm, you started talking to him normally, and clearly he listened to you attentively but couldn't stop paying attention to your lips, how they moved, how you sometimes licked him or bit him like a kind of craze of yours, or how your sweet voice came out of your throat.

"Do you want to sit down?" You asked him, pointing to his bed, while you took off your black high-heeled boot and sat on your bed.

"Yeah...I mean, of course," he said more embarrassedly, causing slight laughter coming from you and soon he sat next to her, but he didn't expect to be so close to the points of her thighs that were involved in her black trawler, touching his long legs.

"So, what kind of music do you like? I mean, it's 2004, you have to have something good about music" You joked while looking into his eyes, which you thought were brown but in fact, surprisingly, they were green.

"Well... I hear these classic things more. Metallic, Led Zeppelin, AC/DC..." He began to say, and that made you make a surprise face and face him.

"Really? No Usher? Justin Timberlake? I don't know" She laughed, clearly surprised that he just listened to classic rock.

"Whet? No, I mean, don't get me wrong, they're great. But I grew up listening to this kind of music and...well, doing things with my father and I didn't have much time to get to know pop culture, jazz and etc.," he said smiling, while staring at you in an enchanted way.

"Get it. But it's okay, I'll show you" You smiled staring at him, and he let out a loose laugh.

"You're funny" He smiled and stared at you for a few seconds, analyzing her blurred Alice's makeup. The way your hair was more or less messy. The way his lips called him and seemed more kissable than before. And before he could really think about what to say to her, he kissed her, not knowing if he would receive a slap in the face, a push or a curse coming from him. Surprisingly, you responded to the kiss more in the mood than him, while his hands went to his face, theirs were already holding his waist firmly, which seemed nothing compared to his big hands.

He carefully guided you to his lap, while the kiss was getting longer and longer, you could feel his hands touching every inch of you, now, with the kiss slightly intensifying, his hands were now caressing his thighs, sometimes some of his fingers entering inside the holes of her black line trawler, which honestly, for him is quite sexy.

His hands traveled to the buttons of the dress, which were located on his back, while he worked on unbuttoning his blue and white Alice dress. His hands were taking off his dark blue denim jacket.

She let out a slight moan when his hands slid to her thighs and then entered inside her dress, and when she touched her waist to be able to take off her dress. And once your dress came out of your body, and you were only in your bra and panties. He let out a sigh, admiring, before holding you firmly by the hips and kissing your neck next to the collarbone and he stared down, seeing the contour of your breasts and let out a sigh and smiled, you are beautiful from his point of view.

He carefully took you and left it underneath, he kept kissing your body and carefully, their hands went to the back of your bra and unbuttoned the buttons of the bra. When the bra got loose on his shoulders, he took it off and stared at his breasts—which seemed too perfect from his point of view—and then, he began to kiss his left breast while his big hands circled the shape of his right breast, he sucked his nipple and you let out a slight moan and put your hands on his hair, when he finished the service and attention to his breasts, he began to kiss his stomach until he reached his panties, he stared at you, as if he had asked for a kind of permission and you just nodded your head, already desperate for the The idea of his touch in your intimate area.

He carefully left a kiss against his panties and hit his clitoris right—which was already swollen with so much desire, along with how soaked you were—he put his hands on the straps of his panties and pulled down and smiled when he saw your naked pussy, just for him.

He sighed against his intimacy, causing a slight pleasure in his body.

Sam gently opened your legs better and then began to kiss his thighs, slow and wet kisses, until he reached his pussy. He started with kisses on the clitoris before moving forward and using his tongue two more times and then starting to work more with his tongue at his entrance, but his pointed and beautiful nose kept pressing his clitoris with each advance with his tongue at his entrance. Causing moans in the dorm.

While he did it slowly, trying to make it last as long as possible. His hands were on his hair, pulling, picking up, caressing, while his hips arched against his mouth.

When he started to accelerate more with his tongue, you moaned feeling that maybe you couldn't take that much.

"Sam..." You tried to warn that it wouldn't last that long.

He smiled, understanding the message of despair in his speech and accelerated more, when you saw it, you had come into his mouth, and he was eating his pussy for a few more 30 minutes and finally, took off his shirt and concentrated on his lips, while his hands caressed his chest—which was exactly as you imagined, muscular but hot and not at all exaggerated—his hands began to unbutton his pants and then take off and soon get into boxers.

You pulled him closer, and felt how big he really was, you couldn't tell if it scared you or excited you, maybe both.

So, he got rid of his boxers, and you were seeing his cock for the first time, it was thick, big and it was very hard, which made you unintentionally but genuinely smile.

You tried to touch, giving the intention that you also wanted to do oral, but he denied it, saying:

"I'm a gentleman. What kind of guy would I be having a blowjob on the first night with you? Sorry princess, next time" He smiled at you, making you laugh that he was such a gentleman.

"Fine" You smiled.

Then, the head of his cock pressed against his clitoris and rubbed lightly.

"Sam..." You let out a weak moan for the provocation coming from him.

He laughed, murmuring a 'sorry' before his cock rubbed his pussy and then the head of his cock began to enter his entrance.

'Oh my God' you thought.

So, he tried to advance another part of his big father and then his hands squeezing his broad shoulders while he looked at you with concern.

"M'Okay...it's just bigger than I expected" She laughed and so did he and sighed relieved.

When he began to move slowly and carefully, the entire length of his penis entered you and you could no longer hold the moans. He was being so careful, and loving with you that he surprised you.

While he stocked up strong but gently, despite reaching the cervix of her uterus, it is being one of the most pleasurable experiences of his life. His hands held his hips, to get more momentum. His others were now on his back, scratching, but nothing to the point of hurting him on purpose.

You smiled when you were getting closer and closer to reaching your climax. So, as if it were a way to try to get there faster, his hands that were on his back went to his ass, trying to force him to go deeper and he laughed.

"Calm down sassy girl" He whispered and smiled at her.

You let out a laugh, before you felt the climax approaching and he smiled when her walls began to squeeze his cock, understanding that she was very close.

"You can let go, babe" She whispered in her ear and kissed her jaw. The nickname caused chills all over your body and without thinking, you came surprisingly next to him. You let out a moan and sighed.

"God..." You whispered and he laid his face on your neck, still with his cock inside you "You better not have made me pregnant" she whispered jokingly, and he laughed, realizing that they had had had unprotected sex, which would be worrying, if you did not take care of yourself and were taking contraceptives.

"It's okay, I hope" he smiled and kissed you again, before taking his penis out of you and lying next to you and hugging you and you hugging him back as you felt him cover him and you with the blanket of your bed. And so, you ended up sleeping, feeling Sam caress your hair.