jackiestronghold

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3 friends suddenly flirting with me back really intensely recently

Nooooo don't do that I'm susceptible to falling in love and wanting to kiss you ahaha,,,,

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it's almost hot boy summer come get your hot boy (me)

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no i cant technically tangibly feel it when i fuck you with my big removable cock, but i feel it in my soul ok??

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life is a cowboy.. and i wanna ride it... all night long......

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its kinda homophobic that someone won’t grab my hips and call me a good boy as i get bred with with their big hard cock.

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Is anyone taking Basement Kitten applications? Being a creep's cute little victim beats working retail anyday. I promise to cry, beg, and moan nice and pretty for you. Even when you aren't tormenting me!

• Twitter • KO-FI •

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Me, a writer, causing my characters great emotional pain: Ah! Yes! Haha! I can’t wait to write this! Ah, I’m such a good writer. 

Me, a writer, writing a slow-burn romance: Aw! They’re so cute! I love them, they’re so awesome together!

Me, a writer, trying to write a scene I don’t really like: Ugh! I hate this! Why am I doing this? (changes tabs and browses Pinterest as research)

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*eats your pussy because I’m proud of you*

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Bare Behavior out now!

You can purchase my newest book here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09W48NC38/ I’m so happy this is finally out. Honestly, I expected it to take much longer to go live, but I’m so happy it went live before I went to bed.

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Just hit the ‘publish’ button! Bare Behavior will be available on Amazon for only 99c within the next 72 hours!

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Alright lads, which one?

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How does this cover look? It’s my first time making one.

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I just think that we should also talk about how people with cocks can and should absolutely be used as fuck toys too. You hear about people used as fleshlights, but I wanna hear more people used as dildos.

Tied up, being used for MY pleasure. Only able to take and be used however I please. Only able to whimper and be perfectly still as you're being ridden. And oh, what if I cum first and I'm done and you haven't cum?

Or, oh, what if you cum but I'm not done and I'm not gonna slow down because why would I??? You're my toy and I'm only using you for stress relief anyway. Poor thing. Just have to sit there, overstimulated, as I take what I want.

Just a toy for my use.

[DNI with this post: Cishet peeps or anyone who is gonna leave a creepy comment]

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Part 2

A little addition from yesterday :)

Just a little.

"Yes," I stepped inside, gently shutting the door behind me. More than anything, I needed him, "You."

He looked up at me in a daze, a blush spreading across his cheeks, "Me? Confident, are we?" He quickly regained his bearings. Pressing his body against mine and his lips gently caressed my jaw, "I like confidence."

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Martin had never been the type to pay much attention to people's looks. His attraction to others, on the rare occasions it reared its head, was based far more on their personality than their appearance.

When he'd first met Jon, the way his eyes flashed behind his glasses and the bristling cardigan he was wearing stuck in Martin's mind far more than the symmetry of his face. He'd fallen in love with Jon for a million reasons beyond whatever cheekbones the man may or may not have possessed.

If Martin paused to really think about it, lingering on old photos of Jon from when he'd first become head archivist, he felt he could very confidently say that, from an objective standpoint, Jon had looked . . . fine. Just precisely fine. There wasn't much to write home about, one way or the other.

But Martin, and anyone else, would've had to be literally blind to miss the fact that Jon was a thin man. His face was gaunt, his limbs were bony, and everything about him seemed sharp and pointed. Martin, near the beginning, had been concerned; was Jon getting enough food, enough sleep? It wasn't long, of course, that he found out the answer to both questions was absolutely not, and his concern quickly became worry. Sleeping in the cot in the office at least gave Martin the opportunity to bully Jon into going home for the night, or at least sleeping with him in document storage. During the day he'd ask Jon to lunch, which helped a bit.

But of course, small concerns like taking care of oneself soon fell by the wayside for Jon, and it wasn't until they were both together again, in the safehouse, that Martin realized just how bad it had gotten. If anything Jon was even skinnier than before, his careful diet of statements clearly not enough to sustain him. Even if he'd gorged himself on them, Martin suspected, it wouldn't have done his physical body much good.

Jon, for his part, seemed to come to the same realization, as the past several exhausting months finally caught up with him. As soon as they'd set their bags down, Jon had dragged himself to the bed and slept for sixteen hours straight. When Jon woke up he'd wandered blearily into the kitchen where Martin had been making dinner, and in one sitting ate nearly half of the spaghetti bolognese.

It was a good start, but three weeks wasn't nearly long enough to get Jon's body back to normal again.

It wasn't until they had been Somewhere Else for a couple of months that Martin began to notice Jon looked different. They had found a corner of this new reality to call home, and Jon had taken the opportunity to continue what he'd started in the safehouse, eating regularly and often. He had, at one point, regained his original weight and then shot right past it, a few stones heavier than he'd been when Martin had first met him.

The morning Martin first woke up, reached over to tug Jon closer in bed and felt the soft roll of a lovehandle under his hand, was one of the better mornings he'd spent in his life. Later, when Jon had gotten up and was puttering around with only his boxers on, Martin noticed, for the first time, that Jon's ribs were entirely hidden by a healthy layer of fat, and his thighs rubbed together when he walked. His face was full, and all of him seemed stronger, more solid, yet at the same time softer. Even as he went sleepily through his morning routine, Jon seemed to glow with a kind of inner peace that was finally reflected in his physical form.

"Oh, wow," Martin whispered, almost involuntarily, as he stared at Jon from across the kitchen table. My boyfriend's fucking gorgeous.

Jon glanced sharply up from his mug of tea, confused. Seeing the direction of Martin's stare, he glanced over his shoulder, but of course there was nothing to see. "What?"

"Just--you," Martin said, truthfully. "You're really beautiful."

Jon's face darkened. He cleared his throat. He knew as well as Martin did that Martin was not the sort to compliment people's looks, not even Jon's. "Oh. Ah. Thank you," he said quietly.

"You've gained some weight," Martin hastened to explain, "a-and you look . . . healthy. Good. Not that you didn't look good before! It's just . . ." He shook his head, as Jon stared bashfully down at his tea. "You look happy. And beautiful."

"Oh," Jon said, and the word was suffused with the smile he was trying and failing to hide behind the lip of his mug. "Thank you, Martin."

"I guess I just . . . didn't notice until today," said Martin.

"I . . . I feel good. For the first time in . . . god knows how long." Jon let out a small, self-conscious laugh. "I'm glad I, ah . . . look good, too."

Martin leaned over and kissed Jon's pleasantly chubby cheek. "Try amazing."

"Good Lord," Jon said softly, his smile too big to hide anymore.

It was hard for Martin to be objective when it came to appearances, especially Jon's, but when he considered him as he sat at the table that morning, fatter and happier than he had been in years, Martin could very confidently say that Jon had never looked better.