“Peaches And Cream” How About You Cream All Over My Face Mommy Or I Can Get A Bottle Of Whip Cream

Recently I have gotten back into drawing...my favorite things so far to doodle are expressions, mostly from Haikyuu faces. Not the beautiful and pretty versions...no no no...

I’m really no artist, I just like to doodle...here are some more.

These were so easy and fun to draw...I’m gonna go make some more.

ೃ༄ zombie apocalypse prompts ˚◞♡ ⃗

— “are you bit?!”

— “i’m not going anywhere with you until i know you’re not infected.”

— “i haven’t felt this safe in a long time.”

— “what did you used to do? y’know, before all this.”

— “not that i’m complaining, but where’d you learn to handle a gun like that?”

— “i never thought i’d be so glad for my dad’s camping advice.”

— “how do you still not know how to read maps?!”

— “c’mon, just take it. i’ve got food to spare and you look like you haven’t eaten in weeks.”

— “let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

— “how did you survive this long on your own?”

— “tinned peaches and chocolate pudding. breakfast of champions right here.”

— “what were things like before? do you remember it? i don’t know if i’d want to.”

— “how many rounds do you have left?”₁ “not nearly enough to take them all out.”₂

— “it’s nice to sleep under a proper roof for once.”

— “go on, get some rest. nothing will happen to you while i’m here, i promise.”

Only Good Girls Get to Come

Night had already set in by the time you glided your car into your driveway. As you shifted into park and watched your garage door close in your rearview mirror, you sighed heavily. The day had been long. Full of meetings that could have been emails and spreadsheets that should have been meetings. Typical.

You grabbed your bag, stepped out of the car, and slammed the door shut with a bit too much force. It felt good. You threw your heels off. Letting them land wherever they felt like. You were too tired to care. 

Opening the door to your home, you groaned when you saw the stairs. Somehow, on the days you were the most annoyed, you always seemed to forget there were stairs. It was only one flight though. Then, you could fall onto the couch.

As you slowly ascended the stairs, each step heavier than the last, you heard something. It sounded like a bag rustling. Then, glass clinking. 

You froze.  

Then, you slowly removed the pepper spray from your bag. Adjusting it just right in your hand as you continued to move up the steps. There was a light coming from your kitchen. Was a burglar eating your food?

Your shoulders relaxed when you heard a familiar, British accented voice say your name, followed by, “You got any dijon?”

Dropping the pepper spray back into your bag, you groaned as you cleared the last few steps and into the living room of your home. You could see Captain John Price rummaging through your fridge, squatted down low, looking through condiments. 

“Yeah, at the bottom. To the left.” You said as you tossed your bag on the floor next to the couch.

He hummed in acknowledgement when he found the mustard, and stood up. He gently closed the fridge and made his way to the counter while you walked over to the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen, taking a seat. Watching him with an unamused look. 

“What the hell are you doing here, John?” You asked as you slumped down on the cool granite.

He scoffed as he took a piece of bread off the top of an already made sandwich, “I told you, I’m crashin’ here this weekend. I sent you a text.”

You thought back to your day as he grabbed a knife and spread out the condiment on the soft bread. You remembered now. He had messaged you that morning saying he would be in town. This wasn’t an unusual event. You two had known each other for several years. He had a key. Something you gave him when he complained about the cost of hotels. Your guest room was hardly ever used, so why not lend it out to him a few times a year when he needed it.

You sighed and rubbed your hand down face, “Oh sorry, I forgot. Long day.”

He finished assembling his sandwich, put the mustard back, and was rinsing off the knife when he asked, “Ain’t that merger still, is it?”

You nodded as you placed your chin in your hand, “Yep. Should be finalized by next week.”

He grabbed the sandwich, now cut in half, and around a mouth full asked, “Want some?”

You stared at the food and nodded silently. He handed one half over to you and you both ate in a comfortable silence. He finished his in a few large bites while you were still half way through yours. Too tired to devour it.

“You look like you need a coma.” John said with a low chuckle.

Between bites, and without much thought, you said, “I need to get laid.”

John laughed, “Yeah? Is that so?”

You groaned, “Sorry, it’s been a long week. Fuck, it’s been a long month. A long year.” You finished the last bite of your sandwich and added, “It’s not your problem. Forget I said anything.”

“I can make it my problem.” he said in a low voice, with something more dancing underneath it.  

You gazed over at him, raising your brow as you took in his mischievous smile. For the first time all day, a smile broke out on your lips. Growing bigger by the second.

“Oh yeah?” You asked, your tone playful. Your eyes finally roamed his body. He had showered already, his hair still damp and combed out of his face. His beard wasn't trimmed, but it was clean. He wore a plain white shirt that hugged his shoulders in the most tantalizing way. The counter blocked most of the view, but a pair of grey sweatpants clung to his hips. 

Your eyes met his again and his smile turned devious, “Like what ya see?”

An even larger smile spread across your lips as a laugh came out, loud and full. You tried to gain your composure as John added, his tone playful, “Oh, is my offer of fuckin’ you senseless, funny to you?”

You leaned back on the stool and crossed your arms, “Maybe. I don’t really see you as the ‘fucking women senseless type’, old man.” 

He didn’t move right away. Only watched you, arms crossed, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was deciding how much trouble you deserved. Then, he stepped around the counter, slow and deliberate. His bare feet were quiet against the tile, but somehow he made the whole room feel smaller.

“That so?” he asked, voice low and gravelly. “You think I’m all talk?”

You opened your mouth, to keep teasing and to challenge him again. Except then, he was in front of you, close enough to steal the breath from your lungs. One hand found the back of your stool, the other tilted your chin up until you had no choice but to meet that dark, glinting gaze.

“S’funny,” he murmured, mouth brushing yours, “because you’re about to be beggin’ that same old man not to stop.”

You didn’t get the chance to answer. His lips found yours in a kiss that started slow, and deepened fast. His hand slid from your chin to the back of your neck, pulling you in tighter, controlling the angle like he needed you to feel how serious he was.

By the time he pulled back, you were breathless. He looked entirely unbothered, smirking, relaxed, cocky in a way that had your thighs clenching.

“Let’s see if you’re still laughin’,” he said, voice like a promise, “when I’ve got you cryin’ on my cock.”

Your grin widened, but your breath hitched just a little. He saw it, and that smug, knowing look spread across his face like fire catching dry brush. He leaned in and said, low and rough, “You gonna sit there all night actin’ brave, or are you gonna stand up and let me ruin that attitude?”

You cocked your head, lips twitching. “Might need some convincing.”

That was the last straw.

Without a word, he gripped your thighs and pulled fast enough to catch you off guard. His grip was firm enough to draw a sharp yelp from your lips. You barely had time to blink before he had you off the stool and up and over his shoulder. One arm over your hips and holding you like it was nothing.

“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered, starting down the hallway as you pressed your hands into his back and laughed, “I offered to be nice about this.”

“Mmmm, you sound a little desperate, old man.”

He gave your ass a solid smack in response, hard enough to sting and soft enough to be playful.

“Keep runnin’ that mouth, sweetheart. You’re only makin’ it worse for yourself.”

You could feel the heat building in him with every step, the way his grip on you tightened slightly as he carried you toward your bedroom. The air shifted from playful tension to something hotter, heavier.

When he kicked the door shut behind him, it was like a switch flipped. He dropped you onto the bed. Not rough, but with enough force to bounce, enough to show he wasn’t playing anymore.

“Strip,” he said, pulling his shirt off over his head. “And lose the attitude while you’re at it.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, still lying back on the bed. “You always give orders like that, Captain, or am I just special?”

Price dropped the shirt to the floor and stepped closer, towering over the edge of the bed with a look that landed somewhere between amused and done with your shit.

“You’re bloody special, alright,” he said dryly. “Special kind of difficult.”

Your grin widened.

He leaned in, one knee hitting the mattress as his hand firmly closed around your ankle. He dragged you toward the edge of the bed inch by inch, slow enough to make your heart pound. You bit your bottom lip trying to hold back the devious grin on your face, but it was a useless endeavor. 

“I like a challenge,” he murmured, voice lower now, intimate. “Especially when they moan real sweet once I’ve shut ’em up.”

You started to open your mouth, some smart remark half-formed on your tongue, but he was already moving. He hooked his fingers into your waistband, yanking your bottoms down and off with practiced ease.

“Still got that attitude?” he asked, his voice soft now, too soft.

You nodded slowly, defiantly.

He just smiled.

“Good,” he said, spreading your legs and settling between them like he had all the time in the world. “Makes it more fun when I fuck it out of you.”

You went to snap something back, but the words fizzled the second his calloused hands slid up your thighs. One palm anchored your hip while the other pushed your shirt up inch by inch, baring your stomach to the cool air.

“Arms up,” he said simply.

His tone was calm, commanding, and it sent a surge of electricity straight through you. You hesitated just long enough for him to raise an eyebrow.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

You obeyed, slowly, lifting your arms as he peeled the shirt over your head and tossed it aside. The bra remained, a delicate, thin veil of black lace. The look in his eyes darkened when it was all that remained.

“Mm,” he hummed, fingers sliding under the straps, dragging them down your arms one at a time. “Almost a shame to take this off.”

He leaned forward, lips brushing the swell of your breast through the lace. Then, he reached behind you with one practiced flick of the wrist.

Click.

The clasp gave instantly, no fumbling, just ease. Control.

“There we go,” he muttered, dragging the straps the rest of the way down. He tossed it aside without looking, too focused on the way your nipples hardened under his gaze, the way you shifted under the weight of it.

“Don’t even think about runnin’ that mouth,” he muttered, hooking his fingers into your underwear.

You opened your mouth, another bratty quip forming, but then the fabric was gone. Dragged down your legs and tossed behind him. And then his hands were on your thighs again, firmer this time, pushing your knees apart like it was routine.

His voice was low and thick with something darker now. “Let’s see how long you can last.”

He dragged two fingers through your folds, slowly, deliberately, and barely dipping in. He didn’t look down or let his gaze leave yours. Didn’t need to.

“Wet already?” he murmured, thumb brushing against your clit just enough to tease. Now, he took a moment to look upon your dripping cunt and added, “And you’re still pretending you don’t need me.”

You squirmed, biting your lip. “You’re the one taking your sweet time, old man.”

His gaze snapped up. Steady. Lethal. Like a wolf who’d just decided how he was going to play with his food. His hand stilled, fingers just barely inside you.

“Right,” he said, as if making a decision.

Then, he pushed in. Two thick fingers, quick and deep, curling just enough to make your back arch. He set a pace immediately: firm, unrelenting, no mercy.

“You’ve got a smart mouth,” he grunted, watching your face, “but look at you now. Drippin’ all over my fuckin’ hand.”

Your breath hitched, a choked moan slipping past your lips. You reached for his wrist without thinking, fingers digging into his forearm like that might slow him down.

He didn’t slow. He leaned in, lips at your ear.

“Beg for it,” he whispered. “Beg me to make you come.”

You clenched around his fingers involuntarily, breath catching. He felt it. Of course he did. He bent down lower, his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“Go on, sweetheart. You were so loud a minute ago.”

You swallowed hard. Bit your lip and shook your head.

“No?” he asked, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Shame.”

And then his fingers slowed, still inside you, still curled just right, but his pace dropped to a lazy rhythm. His thumb circling your clit with barely enough pressure to keep you teetering. It was maddening. Close, but not enough. 

“You can wait, then,” he said coolly, like it was a casual choice. “I’ve got all night.”

You whimpered, hips twitching. He didn’t move faster. Didn’t budge. His free hand came up and gripped your chin, tilting your face toward him until your eyes met his.

“You wanna come?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

You nodded quickly.

“Then ask me.”

“Please,” you breathed. “Fuck, please, John…”

“Please what?”

“Please make me come. I need it. Fuck, I need you.”

That was the switch.

His smile returned with a dark satisfaction. The hand between your legs snapped back to work. Fast. Precise. His fingers plunged into you, curling up, while his other hand went to your throbbing clit. His thumb pressed firm, relentless circles against it. You cried out, the heat building in a dizzying rush, all control ripped away like paper in a storm.

“That’s it, good girl,” he growled. “Just like that. Let me hear you.”

You clutched at the sheets, back arching, the orgasm tearing through you so hard you saw stars. And he didn’t stop, not right away. He worked you through it, dragging every last tremble out of your body, until you were gasping and twitching, his name somewhere between a sob and a moan on your lips.

To be continued...

Reblog the 500,000 dollar written check from Seto Kaiba and money will come your way.

writers' resources

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want to simplify your writing ? : https://hemingwayapp.com/

writing buddies / motivation ? : https://nanowrimo.org

word you're looking for but don't know ? : https://www.onelook.com/thesaurus/

need a fantasy name ? : https://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/

need a fantasy name ? : https://nameberry.com/

want a name with meaning ? : https://www.behindthename.com/

who wants a map maker! : https://inkarnate.com/

story building / dnd ? : https://www.worldanvil.com/

need some minimalistic writing time ? : https://zenpen.io/

running out of ideas ? : https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/

setting a goal ? how about 3 pages / day ? : https://new.750words.com/

what food did they eat ? : https://www.foodtimeline.org/

questions on diversity within writing ? : https://writingwithcolor.tumblr.com/

now what was that colour called ? : https://ingridsundberg.com/2014/02/04/the-color-thesaurus/

want more? : https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lyralit :]

sometimes you need dialogue tags and don't want to use the same four

The morning after

The room was dim, lit by soft golden rays from the sun peeking through the sheer curtains. You stirred, shifting slightly beneath the sheets. Your limbs tangled with König’s, your back pressed to his chest. Your bodies, still bare from the night before. You smiled when you felt the weight of his arm tighten around you. You noticed the subtle shift in his breathing, the press of his hand against the curve of your hip.

He was already awake.

You adjusted your head to look up at him. He was already gazing at you, lids heavy with sleep or desire. It was hard to tell.

“Guten Morgen…” König said, his voice low and rough.

His voice was thick with something darker. Something akin to wanting, deep and unfiltered. Your skin prickled under the sound of it. You bit your bottom lip and hummed softly as you stretched, deliberately arching just enough for your hips to press back into him. You felt him react instantly. The velvety soft skin of his hard cock rubbed between the cleft of your backside.

He didn’t wait for you to fully respond. He rolled you onto your stomach with practiced ease, large hands spreading across your lower back, pinning you there like he needed to feel the weight of you under him again. His mouth trailed down your spine and over your shoulders, a mixture of kisses and low groans, before he pulled your hips up and back.

You sighed happily as you moved up with his grip.

You braced herself on your forearms, your breath catching as König aligned the head of his cock at your weeping pussy. The first thrust was slow and deep, but there was nothing gentle about the grip of his hands on your waist. He set a pace that was intense. Each motion was rough, deliberate, and demanding. 

Igniting a fervent symphony of moans and sighs.

You cried out, not from pain but from the sheer overwhelming sensation. Your fingers dug into the sheets. König leaned over you, his mouth hot against your ear, whispering praises in broken German and sloppy English.

Then, he came to a lazy stop, pulling out of you so slowly that it made you whine. Protesting the emptiness he left behind. 

He chuckled deeply, “So needy…”

Then, he shifted you again, turning you to face him and lifted you up so you were straddling his lap. Now, his back pressed firmly against the headboard. Your knees on either side of his hips as he notched himself again to your soaking wet cunt.

You had a lovely view of his expression as he watched his cock pushing into you. His teeth biting his bottom lip as he groaned. His eyes, still heavy. You were no better. Your breath, leaving you in shuddered gasps as you seated yourself fully onto his hips.

His hands roamed over your body, palms rough against your thighs as they traced up your stomach and your back. His mouth found one of your breasts. His teeth kissing and nipping at the sensitive underside, then working up to your nipple. 

You arched into his mouth. Nails scraping his scalp and grabbing his hair, pushing him further into your chest. Rocking your hips in a tantalizing slow way. Your clit throbbing as you dragged against him in long, languid strokes.

König groaned out, “Scheiße”

His forehead settled in the valley of your breasts as his hands went to the meat of your hips. Grabbing at them hard enough to hurt. You clenched around him involuntarily.Then, there was nothing slow about his movements. It was messy. Intense. Unapologetic.

One of your hands grabbed the headboard and the other made a feeble grasp at his shoulders as his hips slammed into yours. He continued his relentless barrage on your cunt. His pace never faulted. Soon enough, your legs shook with your release as your mouth opened wide on a soundless gasp.

With his face still buried in your chest, he stilled. His hands, still forcing your hips down. Keeping you in place as he spilled himself into you with a long, breathy groan.

You couldn’t help but go limp in his arms. Head lolling back as you failed to keep a solid grip on his sweaty shoulders. His hands slid up your back and he adjusted his legs to keep you upright. 

König whispered, “So sehe ich Dich gerne." While kissing a trail up to your collarbone. His mouth opened wide to softly bite into your neck.

As you started to come back to reality, you heard him say, “Time for round two, mein liebling.”

🙏 We want you to stay with Lord Sesshomaru forever too baby! 🙏

Let's manifest with Rin 🙏🏼🕯

I looked up how tall Inasa was and didn't realise google was referring to Mt Inasa, so when it said 1000ft I didn't even question it - I love this tall mountain boy and his cool costume