harukapetals

[harukapetals]

HAZYHUNNY’s 420 giveaway!

In order to enter, you must:

🏃 Be following me 🔞 Be 18+  🔄 Reblog this post (every reblog counts as an entry, but no giveaway blogs, and don’t spam your followers!)

That’s it!

The giveaway includes:

🍯 Honey oil rig ⚱️ 420 Science stash jar 🐝 Little bumble bee zip up bag 🌴 Honey coconut body butter 🚿 Lush’s It’s Raining Men  🍭 Candy scented candles 💡 1 Color changing light bulb

I’ll choose a winner with an automated generator. I will only ship to the US🇺🇸 and Canada🇨🇦

If this post gets more than 4,200 notes, I’ll add a second prize!

Giveaway ends midnight on 4/19

Winner will be announced on 4/20!

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Please fuck off if you think that it’s okay to only talk to me when it’s convenient for you.

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Average height boys r suspicious to me…..always so medium….probably hiding something. and short boys always so angry about being short. and tall boys r too scary and more mass volume to store evil. there is no peace

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i dont get offended at white people jokes even though im white because: 

i can recognize white people as a whole have systemically oppressed POC in america, which is where i live 

most people when they make white people jokes only mean the shitty white people and i am not a shitty white person 

im not a pissbaby

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Pansy: Potter! Are you free on friday? Like, around 8pm.

Harry: Uh… Yes?

Pansy: What about you Draco?

Draco: Yeah, I am.

Pansy: Great! Because I‘m not. Enjoy your date guys!

Draco:

Harry: Did she just-

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*me, to my own mind* can u like s h u t the fuck up for once

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anxiety brain: IM GOING TO DIE ALONE AND UNCARED FOR

the other side of my brain which is wearing a hawaiian shirt: [cracks another sparkling water] yeah probably

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shitty thigh gap

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Honestly something that bothers me more than most things is having my compassion mistaken for naivety.

I know that another fish might eat this bullfrog right after I spend months rehabilitating it.

I know that turning a beetle back onto its legs won’t save it from falling over again when I walk away.

I know that there is no cosmic reward waiting for my soul based on how many worms I pick off a hot sidewalk to put into the mud, or how many times I’ve helped a a raccoon climb out of a too-deep trashcan. 

I know things suffer, and things struggle, and things die uselessly all day long. I’m young and idealistic, but I’m not literally a child. I would never judge another person for walking by an injured bird, for ignoring a worm, or for not really caring about the fate of a frog in a pond full of, y’know, plenty of other frogs.

There is nothing wrong with that.

But I cannot cannot cannot look at something struggling and ignore it if I may have the power to help.

There is so much bad stuff in this world so far beyond my control, that I take comfort in the smallest, most thankless tasks. It’s a relief to say “I can help you in this moment,” even though they don’t understand.

I don’t need a devil’s advocate to tell me another fish probably ate that frog when I let it go, or that the raccoon probably ended up trapped in another dumpster the next night.

I know!!!! I know!!!!!!! But today I had the power to help! So I did! And it made me happy!

So just leave me alone alright thank u!!!!

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I don’t want a sugar daddy but maybe like a sugar buddy. 

I just hit him up like “Hey how are you today?” 

and he replies “Doing great thanks for asking here’s $7,000.” 

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I felt that

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me: attention! attention! i need it! give me attention!

also me, beating myself with a broom: you! don’t! deserve! love!

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I miss the way it used to be.

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Strawberries and Cream

You’re baking on a Sunday, and when Harry sees you, he can’t hold back.

(I was bored and wrote some smut  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  enjoy)

It was a quiet Sunday, both you and Harry were free the entire day, which with your busy schedules was a miracle. Because you were free, Harry saw it as an opportunity to sleep in and cuddle all day, but you were restless, aching for something, anything to do. You remembered a carton of strawberries that you had bought, and smiled at the thought of waking Harry with homemade strawberry cupcakes from scratch. You debated for a moment whether or not to get dressed fully, your body only clad in one of Harry’s t-shirts and your underwear underneath, and decided against it, feeling like the opening and closing of drawers would disturb the sleeping beauty in your bed.

You slowly pried yourself from his suffocating grasp, and crept to the kitchen, where you unloaded all of the supplies needed for your sweet concoction. As you were pulling out ingredients, you called out to your Google Home to play the Weeknd, singing along to the silky vocals while you worked. You began to mix together your ingredients, mashing the strawberries in one bowl, and combining the dry ingredients in another. You began to whip the cream for the top when you saw an Adonis leave your bedroom, his eyes drooping with fatigue. Your Harry.

He looked so lovely in the morning, his hair messy, his cheeks a bit flushed, and most importantly, his sweatpants hanging loosely from his hips, exposing the lovely v-shape that lead into his boxers. He looked like pure sex, though that could be said at any time and it would still be true.

“Mm, that smells lovely. Though the bed got cold without you.” He mumbled, his voice rough, as it always was when he just woke up. His arms wrapped around you as you whipped the cream, adding sugar to the mixture and trying not to think about the erection that was pressing into your back. You decided to play dumb, swaying your hips to the rhythm of “Wicked Games” by the Weeknd, lowly singing along.

“I got my heart right here, I got my scars right here.” You continued singing along, your movements getting more and more heated as the song went on. Harry’s large hands began to roam, taking in your body fully as he roughly grabbed your hips, spinning you to face him.

“Just let me motherfucking love you.” He whispered the lyrics, a sinful look in his eyes as he leaned down to kiss you. His soft lips brushed yours for a moment, before fully delving into his lust. His hands grabbed desperately at your thighs, squeezing them before lifting you onto the counter, moving his body forward so that he was stood between your legs. His teeth nipped at your lower lip, growling playfully before slipping his tongue in your mouth, the flavor of mint bursting on your tongue.

His fingers moved south, trailing painfully lightly on your inner thigh, knowing fully well that the gentle touches weren’t going to cut it. The tips of his fingers brushed over your clothed center, which was practically dripping onto the marble countertop. The slight touch made you whine, as your body desperately craved something a bit rougher. He chuckled at your piteous sounds, a devilish grin spreading over his lips. He pulled the t-shirt over your head, and took in your barely clothed form. His eyes went to the bowl of cream that you had whipped, and suddenly, his eyes were filled with desire. He took a dollop on his fingers, and messily smeared it on your breasts, causing you to gasp, both from his fingers and the cold temperature of the cream. He maintained eye contact with you, dipping his head to your cream covered tits before taking the sweet substance into his willing mouth, causing you to moan out, your head rolling back on the counter. Harry tutted, bringing your head back up.

“I want you to watch.” The words were filthy, and you were more than willing to please him. “You know how much I love your cooking.” He mumbled against your skin, sucking on your pink nipple. Your tiny fingers weaved their way into his long locks, tugging gently to keep him in place. His hands surprised you by finding the place that you needed him most, which, at that point, was soaking wet. He pulled your soiled panties to the side, smirking when you gasped at the cold air hitting you.

“You’re absolutely wrecked, aren’t you, baby girl? Is this what you wanted? Why else would you be out here half naked?” Harry cooed, hungry lips attacking your neck as you nodded quickly, whining and whimpering when his long middle finger teased your entrance before slowly pushing in.

The relief of the fullness was euphoric, and you had to stop yourself from writhing to gain some friction. Your clit was left painfully neglected, though Harry knew that, and planned to keep it that way for at least a couple moments. The speed of his finger, which was pumping in and out of your center, was slow, so slow. He was teasing you, and this was evident in  every move he made.

“Harry, please… please I can’t…” You begged, writhing beneath him. “I need you.”

“Mm… I think we can beg a bit better than that, can’t we?” He whispered sweetly in your ear, curling his finger inside you to meet your g-spot, changing his pace to be a bit faster.

“P-Please, please daddy, I need you, please fill me up.” Your cheeks were burning, both from the gentle finger-fucking that you were receiving and from the embarrassment from your words.

“That’s much better.” He removed his finger, causing you to gasp at the loss. He tugged his sweatpants and boxers down, and you spread your legs as far as you could manage, your body begging for his cock.

He may have agreed to fuck you, but the teasing wasn’t over. He loved to tease you until you were a dripping, begging mess for him. And you loved to be defiant until you couldn’t take it anymore. It was your favorite game of cat and mouse.

He ran the tip of his cock over your core, slowly swirling it around your clit, which was left alone until that moment. Your hips bucked involuntarily at the contact, causing Harry to grab your waist, pushing you back down.

“Ah, ah, ah.” A smirk crept onto Harry’s face, his eyes glazed over with lust. He slowly pushed into you, causing all of the breath to leave your lungs. The pleasure was indescribable, and you felt your arousal trickle down your thigh and onto the counter. This was the effect that Harry had on you. Once he was fully inside, you were practically at the point of tears, needing him to move. “What do we say?” Harry asked before pulling his full lower lip between his teeth.

“Really?” You asked, annoyed with his patience and your lack thereof. He raised an eyebrow at you, showing that he was one hundred percent serious. You took a deep breath before saying, “Please, please fuck me, I can’t take it.” Your legs were wrapped so tightly around Harry’s waist you thought he must have lost blood circulation. He pulled your body up, kissing your lips feverishly before thrusting quickly in you, causing you to melt, the pleasure overwhelming your body. Harry had a way of turning you primal, making pleasure your only goal, and the only thing on your mind. You dragged your nails down Harry’s back, causing him to groan with pleasure. He left hickeys all over your skin, but mostly on your breasts, which still had the sticky remains of whipped cream on them.

“B-Baby, I’m gonna cum…” He whispered to you, and you nodded, feeling your own release building. His willing fingers found your clitorus, which he massaged to the rhythm of his thrusts, urging you closer and closer to your orgasm. Your body twitched with your orgasm, each wave of pleasure racking your body and lifting your hips off of the counter. You gasped, breathless as Harry continued thrusting through your orgasm until he met his own, releasing deep inside you. You cried out at the unique pleasure, your ankles locking behind his back. His clammy body collapsed on yours, both of you left heavily breathing and with pink cheeks.

“You should bake every Sunday.” Harry mumbled into your skin, which reminded you and caused you to jump up.

“Shit! The cupcakes.”

[harukapetals]