#// and the way they think and respond to things is so wildly different

[hella1975]

has that other anon ever met an upper class brit because i guarantee they wouldn't feel the same after encountering All That

literally 😭 like comparing classism is so dumb when it’s very much a subjective, varied conversation WITHIN a country let alone amongst different countries but that sentiment can and should coexist with the acknowledgement that british classism Does Not Fuck About

[euniexenoblade]

I think it's crazy how so many transfems have similar stories about tme people ignoring their distaste for Rocky Horror and I think it's wild how so many of us have trauma related to that movie caused by the people we saw as friends.

I think it's interesting that anytime transfems try to criticize the movie for transmisogynistic tropes, loads of tme people become combative, insulting, rude, they do not want us to critically analyze it, they do not want us to talk about it. I think it's equally interesting that if we then try to discuss the transphobia of Richard O'Brien, the creator, we are met with equal amounts of disdain. He has said trans women are not women, he has defended JK Rowling, but people will plug their ears about it. "He's nonbinary he can't be transphobic!" Or, transfems will just talk about the trauma of the movie, trauma related to the movie, there are so many joke posts about trans women getting forced to watch it by their tme "friends" and those are responded to with disdain and vitriol.

I have tried to rewatch the movie multiple times in the last decade, each time puts my brain back in that place where a cis woman friend who constantly talked about wanting me to be one of these characters for Halloween, betrayed my trust and put me in massive amounts of danger. When I watch it my brain goes back to the time I logged into Facebook to have some transphobe I don't know calling me FrankNFurter.

And it makes me wildly uncomfortable. These events in my life have just put a different sheen on the movie that makes it look so gross. And knowing I'm not the only one who feels this way about it so relieving, this movie held up as important LGBT cinema feels dehumanizing for me, and there's so many others that feel the same. But anytime we talk about it we are met with such contempt.

This isn't like, a coherent thing, it's just a personal rant. It feels so weird how tme people at large seem to walk over transfems over a movie. Which yeah yeah transmisogyny is a thing, but transfems not liking a movie seems so inconsequential. Why must we deal with the trauma of our so called friends not respecting our comfort, just to turn around years later and be ridiculed for having that trauma? It's just a fucking movie. And it has literally all the "man in dress bad" tropes we criticize other movies for. Why defend this movie to the death? It's just so annoying.

[amiableness]

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 3671 words & 18+

here it is! part two of this blurb. all the hugs and kisses to @moonpascal for reading and giving me tips/ideas! also, here's the series masterlist for these two 💌 happy reading, angels! 💌

While James is gone, your thoughts spiral out of control. You consider slipping out of his bed and retreating to the living room, where the space feels less charged. A nagging voice in your mind insists that James would be more at ease if you weren’t in his bed. You’ve been in his bed before, shared countless late-night conversations and quiet moments, but this time it feels wildly different. 

The air was thick with tension, something you’d felt even after James left the room, and it made you question whether you should create some distance before he returned. The last thing you wanted was to put him in an uncomfortable position. Lying in his bed while his son called you "mum" surely must have felt that way to him. 

You’ve just sat up in bed, ready to slip out from under the covers, when James quietly reenters the room, closing the door with a soft click. He turns and catches sight of you sitting up, your uncertainty evident in the way you watch him. One brow arches in silent inquiry, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“Uh,” you murmur, easing yourself back into the sheets, your hands nervously smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric. “No.” 

James lets out a satisfied hum, his voice low and warm, “Good.”

You chew on your lip, watching as he runs a hand through his hair, tousling the curls. You fight back a smile, thinking how just a few minutes ago, Henry’s hair looked exactly the same.

“Listen,” he starts. “I want to thank you for going along with Henry calling you mum. I know it might have been a bit of a shock.” His voice is soft as he acknowledges the almost-four-year-old sleeping down the hallway. You feel a wave of emotion at the mention of the little boy.

“A bit.” You say softly.

“I’m sorry,” he admits, his voice tinged with guilt as he runs a hand through his hair again—a gesture that betrays his nerves. “I’ll talk to him in the morning and explain that he can’t call you that.”

A pause lingers between you. Neither of you speaks, the quiet hum of the TV the only thing breaking the stillness.

“Or you don’t have to.” You say gently, pushing the covers aside as you shift to the edge of the bed in front of him. He watches you intently, his eyes darting down to trace over your bare legs. You’re wearing the shorts that drive him crazy—especially now, with you in his bed.

“What?” He asks, his tone dripping with surprise.

“It’s okay if he wants to call me ‘mum'. If you're okay with it,” you say shyly, and he can tell from the way you bite down on your lower lip and stare up at him that you’re nervous. “I consider him mine.” You continue, your voice coming out in a near whisper.

That’s all it takes.

James pushes himself forward with a determined intensity, his hand cupping your cheek as he tilts your head back, forcing your eyes to meet his. His thumb gently caresses your bottom lip, sending a shiver through you as your lashes flutter with anticipation. He leans in, his breath mingling with yours, and captures your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. You respond with a shuddering sigh.

He pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, “He is yours.”

You can hardly respond. The words are stuck in your throat, trapped by the rising emotions. You couldn’t have heard him right. “Jamie, I—”

“You’ve raised him with me.” He tells you, kneeling between your legs, his warm palms gently pushing your thighs apart so he can press close to you.

A slow, gentle kiss is pressed to your cheek, “Been such a good mum, darling.” He whispers, his voice is rough against your ear.

James grins at the sound of the soft whimper that escapes your lips. Eyes wide and lips parted, you gaze up at him, caught between surprise and desire.

He’s beginning to think you like being praised.

“Always so good for me, aren’t you?” He tests as his lips graze the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You instinctively reach out, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer as a surge of heat shoots through you, straight to between your legs.

He grins, his theory proven correct. Your hips roll, desperate for friction, as your chest pushes further into his.

“Taking care of my son,” Your eyes flutter closed, letting him run his palm down your neck, tilting your head to the side. Another kiss is placed below your ear, pulling a whimper from your lips. “Our son”

The hand that isn’t cradling your neck glides up your thigh, fingers grazing your skin before gripping your hip firmly, his touch possessive. He squeezes the flesh, sending a wave of heat through you. The sigh you let out is soft, almost a whimper, betraying how desperately you’re losing control under his touch.

“Jamie.” A whimper escapes you as desire coils tightly in your stomach, almost unbearable. You’ve never ached for someone’s touch as much as you do now, every nerve ending alive with need.

“It’s your turn to be taken care of, love.” He mumbles, trailing soft kisses down your neck. Your face tightens, struggling to contain the lump that forms in your throat from his words. 

He pulls back from you, sitting back on his heels as he begins to unbutton his shirt. Your mouth goes dry as your gaze locks onto his fingers, watching them deftly work each button open, one by one. He’s moving slowly, almost deliberately, focusing on the task as if he’s oblivious to how your eyes are glued to him. 

But you know better than that.

The fabric parts gradually, revealing more of his chest with each undone button, and the air between you seems to thicken with anticipation. 

Your focus is dialed into the movement of his hands and the soft rustle of his shirt as he moves. Your thighs press together, the anticipation building unbearably. You reach for the band of his dress pants, fingers curling around the fabric, trying to convey your urgent need. His eyes flicker up to meet yours, and he gives you a smile that’s as devastating as it is knowing.

“Slide up on the bed, darling.” He tells you as he pops open the last button and slides his shirt off, revealing his tanned and toned torso.

You obey without hesitation, your body responding instinctively to his command.

He casually tosses his shirt onto the top of the dresser, the fabric landing in a careless heap. Then he climbs onto the bed, moving with deliberate ease until he’s hovering over you, his presence overwhelming and inescapable.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he mutters, his voice rough with an intensity you’ve never seen in him before. “So beautiful that sometimes I can’t even think straight when I’m around you.”

“Stop it.” You sigh, though there’s no real sharpness in your tone. You’re simply trying to mask how flustered he’s making you.

His fingers slip beneath the strap of your tank top, tugging it off your shoulder, “I’m serious, baby. Do you know how many years I’ve spent dreaming of worshiping your body?”

Baby. That's new.

“Fuck, I need you to touch me.” You sigh, your voice coated in desperation. 

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice dripping with a cocky undertone. You hate how much it stirs you up, the confidence in his tone intensifying your reaction.

You nod frantically, “Yeah.”

Your eyes flutter closed as James slides the other strap of your top off your shoulder. There’s a brief, charged pause before you feel his lips grazing your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin. He murmurs tender compliments, his words melting into the softness of your skin.

The hem slips down, exposing your breasts to the cool air, and you can feel your nipples harden. James curses before leaning down, eager to press a soft kiss against your right nipple. You draw in a sharp breath, so sudden that James glances up at you in surprise. But you’re too absorbed in the sensation, head thrown back, to notice his reaction.

He takes his time, sucking on your nipples until you’re whining before trailing kisses lower and lower down your body. Stopping at the band of your sleep shorts, he glances up at you for permission. You meet his gaze and give him a small nod, and then he’s tugging down the flimsy fabric along with your panties and tossing them aside.

The light from his lamp is reflecting off your slick, and he’s never wanted anything more. All those years he spent dreaming of this moment, imagining what it would be like to have you this close. Now that it’s finally happening, he can’t quite grasp that it’s real—that you’re here, within reach, and this isn’t just another fleeting fantasy.

“Fuck, I wanna taste you,” James groans, staring down at your soaked pussy. “Please let me, baby.”

You don’t say anything but instead spread your thighs, your hands gripping underneath the backs of your knees. He grins, his hands sliding up the backs of your thighs to hold you open for him. The tip of his nose brushes against your thighs as he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin. The shaky exhale that slips from your lips at his touch has him growing uncomfortably hard. 

When he nips at your inner thigh, a playful squeal escapes your lips, and you tug at his curls with a mischievous grin. Gently, you guide his head so he’s lined up with your pussy, your touch both commanding and affectionate.

He doesn’t waste any time, his tongue sliding right through your slick as he moans into you.

You let out a moan so loud that he reaches up and clamps his hand over your mouth. The last thing he needs is Henry waking up and cockblocking him.

He keeps his hand over your mouth, feeling the vibrations of your sighs and whimpers against his palm. If it weren’t for his son sleeping just down the hall, he’d be urging you to let go and be as loud as you wish. Begging you to let him hear just how good he was making you feel.

Your thighs jerk, and James grips you harder, pushing you back down into the sheets. Wetness is beginning to drip down onto the sheets, and the way James sloppily licks and sucks at your cunt doesn’t help the mess. He couldn't care less about the mess gathering on his sheets. The only thing on his mind is making you feel so good that you can’t possibly think straight.

At the feeling of the tips of his fingers tracing along your entrance, you moan, desperately nodding your head to tell him to keep going. He listens, slipping a finger slowly into you and curling upwards. He watches transfixed as you arch your back, and he can’t decide which sight he likes more. The sight of his finger slipping into you so easily or the complete look of desperation on your face.

“God, you look so fucking pretty like this.” James hums, pressing a kiss onto your clit before glancing back up at you. Against his better judgment, he pulls his hand away from your mouth, desperate to hear the pretty noises you’re making.

He’s not at all disappointed; the way you moan his name makes him dizzy.

“Got the prettiest pussy too.” He hums, pulling his fingers away to circle your clit. When he pinches your clit you shriek, jolting at the sensation that shoots through you. Your legs are shaking, and you can feel the building hot pressure settling into your body.

James shifts, moving further up your body so that he can settle next to you. His fingers are still rubbing tight circles against your clit, and you don’t get a chance to ask what he’s doing before he’s leaning down and sucking your nipple into his mouth.

The sensation sends you over the edge, vision blurring into white as you’re consumed by the intense, toe-curling orgasm. Your gasp is startingly loud, so James leans down and kisses you hard, muffling your cries as you grip his bicep in one hand and the sheets in the other hand. He keeps the same pace, swirling his fingers over your pussy in the most delicious way as he works you through your orgasm. He slows his movements once he notices your breathing has evened out and your eyes have fluttered open.

“Fuck,” you sigh, your chest heaving as you look up at James with wide, glassy eyes. He smiles down at you, pressing a quick, tender kiss to your lips. At that moment, you’re certain he’s ruined you for any other man—though, truth be told, he did that years ago.

“You’ve got the prettiest moans I’ve ever heard.” He speaks with such sincerity that you’re certain your gaze is filled with the most lovesick adoration.

“James.” You say softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you reach up to gently brush the curls away from his face. Your fingertips graze his skin, lingering for a moment on his cheek as he looks down at you, his eyes filled with an emotion that matches your own.

You know he’s deeply in love with you, just as you are with him.

“What, baby?”

“I want to feel you inside of me.” Your fingers reach down to grasp the waistband of his dress pants. James looks momentarily startled when he glances down and realizes he’s still wearing them. With a flurry of hurried movements, he fumbles to unbutton and shove them off, and you can’t help but giggle at the endearing clumsiness of his efforts.

You barely have time to admire how beautiful he looks before he’s positioning himself over you, his body pressing close. He cages you in with his arms on either side of your head, leaning down to plant a tender kiss on your forehead.

“I need to grab a cond—” James begins as he glances over at his nightstand, but you cut him off with a gentle smile, “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

"But there's a chance—" He stops himself, the words catching in his throat as he swallows hard, the mere thought too overwhelming to fully process. He can't let his mind linger on the image of you pregnant with his child; he just can't.

"I know," you reply, your voice steady as you give him an encouraging nod, trying to offer reassurance.

James looks so startled that you immediately worry you’ve said the wrong thing. “Please, baby,” he urges, his voice tinged with desperation, “tell me you’re being serious.”

You giggle, “I am.”

“Fuck.” He lets out a low groan, reaching down to grip his cock, dragging the tip through your folds. The sharp gasp you release makes James glance up at you. 

He’s never witnessed anything so captivating. Your eyes are closed, head tilted to the side, with your swollen bottom lip caught between your teeth in a way that drives him wild.

He drags himself further down until he’s lined up with your entrance, and you let out a shaky exhale. As he pushes past your tight walls, he grits his teeth, resisting the urge to shove his hips forward and fill you in one go. But instead, he fixates on your face—the way your brows furrow in pleasure and your lips part, adjusting to the feel of his cock easing in.

“You feel so much better than I imagined, shit.” He gasps, watching the way his cock pushes past your snug entrance and sinks into you slowly. You suck him in so easily, and he swallows hard, silently begging himself to hold it together.

“Jamie, oh my god.” You moan, blindly reaching out a hand to grip his shoulder, the other gripping the sheets.

“I know, baby,” He grunts. “Almost there.” He stills for a second, needing a second to breathe. It’s been ages since he last had sex, and it doesn’t help that it’s you he’s slipping his cock into.

“Keep going, please.” It must be the tone of your voice, that soft, irresistible lilt, that drives him to surge forward as if he can't hold back any longer. The forceful thrust tears a moan from your throat, your hand instinctively flying up to clutch his as it grips your hip with a possessive intensity. At the touch of your fingers, he instinctively twists his hand to intertwine them with yours. With a steady push, he leans over you, pressing your joined hands into the sheets.

Your eyes flutter open, slowly tracing over him, taking in every detail, before finally locking onto his gaze. He’s just so breathtakingly beautiful. His dark curls fall messily over his forehead, his lips are pink and inviting, and a deep blush colors his cheeks. You’ve never seen him like this before, so vulnerable and raw, and you’re overwhelmed with gratitude that you get to witness him like this, even if it’s just this once.

A gentle kiss lands on your lips, the softness of his touch lingering for a moment. You let out a quiet sigh, your breath blending with his in a simple, shared connection. His lips remain lightly pressed against yours as he drags his cock through your pussy. Your back arches instinctively, and a soft, pleading whine escapes into his mouth.

He quickens the pace, yet it remains slow and tender, leaving you breathless and dazed. As your head tilts to the side, he seizes the moment to press gentle kisses along your shoulder, his touch soothing compared to the burn of pleasure between your thighs.

“God, I love your moans.” He mumbles, rolling his hips into yours. Being this close allows him to hear every sound you make—the soft catch of your breath, the subtle shifts in your sighs, and the faint murmurs of pleasure. Each noise is crisp and intimate, a testament to the closeness you share.

“Love your pretty lips.” He murmurs softly, his voice low and intimate, as he leans in to press his lips against yours. The kiss is gentle but insistent, and you can barely manage to reciprocate, your movements sluggish and overwhelmed. Yet he doesn't seem to mind; his focus is entirely on making you feel good.

“Love how well you take me.” He murmurs praise with a tender, reverent tone, each word wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The effect is immediate; you release a choked sob as his hand slides from your neck down your body. He gently slides his hand under your thigh, lifting it and securing it over his hip with a possessive yet gentle grip. The shift in position pulls you even closer and has him hitting that delicious spot that makes your mind go blissfully blank.

You’re utterly undone, and it’s all too clear in your voice. Each desperate plea of his name tumbles from your lips, mingled with breathless, disjointed words about how incredible everything feels. The raw vulnerability in your tone, the way you falter and stutter with pleasure, tells him just how close you are

“James, I—” you cry out, your voice breaking as you squeeze his hand with a desperate intensity. Your other hand weaves through his tousled curls, tugging him closer. You pull his lips to yours with an urgent, almost pleading motion, your heart racing as the warmth of his lips meet yours. “I’m gonna cum. Fuck.”

He keeps the rhythm steady, his lips lingering on your cheeks with soft, reverent kisses before moving slowly down your neck. Each kiss is deliberate and tender, a gentle exploration that sends a cascade of shivers across your skin. The warmth of his breath mingles with the sensation of his lips, heightening the intimacy of the moment and deepening the connection between you.

“Fuck, I love you.” He grits out a few strained words, his voice rough and laden with raw emotion. That simple utterance is enough to shatter your composure. In an instant, you’re undone, your body trembling and mind swirling as you surrender entirely to the intensity of the moment.

The intense feeling of you squeezing him tightly, overwhelms his senses, causing his thoughts to dissolve into a haze of pleasure. His body reacts instinctively, and without much warning, he spills into you as he helps you ride out your high. He curses under his breath, his head sinking to your shoulder, the weight of his exhaustion and satisfaction pressing against you.

It takes a moment for both of you to catch your breath, chests heaving and hearts pounding in the aftermath. As you gradually come back to yourselves, he gently pulls away from your shoulder, meeting your glassy-eyed gaze with his own. You stare at him, wide-eyed, your hair a tangled mess and mascara smudged. Despite the disheveled appearance, he thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful.

“Did I—” you trail off, your voice faltering as you shift your hand from his tangled curls to cradle his cheek gently. Your thumb brushes lightly against his skin, your gaze searching his face. “Did you just say you loved me?” The words come out in a soft, trembling whisper, your eyes wide and filled with a mix of hope and disbelief.

“Yes.” James admits; there’s a shake to his voice as he bites his lip nervously. The admission wasn’t meant to slip out. Instead of apologizing, he shifts his focus to the tears welling up in your eyes. Before he can process it, you lean in and kiss him fiercely, the intensity of emotions seeping through.

“Like you’re in love with me?” You ask, your voice trembling with disbelief. James offers a nervous, yet hopeful smile.

“Uh huh.” He confirms softly, his eyes reflecting a vulnerable sincerity.

“I love you. So fucking much, James Potter.”

please reblog or comment with your thoughts! they are very appreciated and keep me motivated to keep writing! 🤍

[gurugirl]

Sex Tutor II

Summary: It feels like you and Harry are looking for different things. You aren't cut out for casual and Harry doesn't have time to focus on a relationship. But feelings are complicated and Harry doesn't even know what he wants until he realizes he can't stop thinking about you.

A/N: Here she is! The final part! I hope y'all enjoy! Part I Here

Word Count: 13.375

Warning: smut, angst, fluff, praise kink, size kink (kind of)

. .

It was another round of disappointment with Gunther after the 2nd time. Not only because he was so unenthusiastic and he wouldn’t return the favor (still), but because you really couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. About how good it had been with him.

As you were going down on Gunther you kept sucking him in and it just didn’t feel the same. He smelled different, and not necessarily bad but it wasn’t as pleasant as it could have been. He’d definitely sprayed some kind of cologne on and you could taste the bitterness of it on your tongue. And he was kind of rough with you. Pressed the back of your head down and grunted once or twice. You even attempted to run your finger over the spot Harry showed you and he got all squicked out by it thinking you were trying to put it in his butthole. And that reaction had totally ruined the moment for you.

Just like the first time, you left his dorm and walked back to yours alone in the dark with nothing but your thoughts and a touch of disgust. You considered reaching out to Harry. He did mention to you that you could call him anytime. And you were left fully unsatisfied by Gunther. There was no part of you that didn’t believe Harry could satisfy you every which way.

You figured you’d call it quits with Gunther after that and maybe you’d contact Harry again. But to your surprise, he contacted you first.

H: How did it go with Gunther?

You were working on a paper at your desk when you saw his message. Of course, you stopped everything to respond.

Not great. He did cum, though. So I guess that’s good! lol

H: Did you also cum?

You swallowed and bit your lip as you felt your cheeks heat up at that question.

No.

It took a bit for him to respond. You weren’t sure if he was in the middle of something or if he didn’t have anything more to say, or maybe it was that he was thinking of how to word his response. And by then you had a hard time getting back into working on your paper so you called it quits for the day and decided to shower.

You kept wondering what was on Harry’s mind. Wondered if you should follow up with him. Ask him to see you again. And when you got out of your shower you had planned out a whole message to type out to him. You’d ask him for another lesson and see if he had any time. You’d be kind of putting yourself out there but Harry had been so nice and it was so good with him you hadn’t stopped thinking about that night.

But there was already a message from Harry waiting for you when you picked up your phone.

H: I think you should come over again. You didn’t get what you needed from him and I’ll happily make up for it. Show you what it’s supposed to be like.

You laid your phone down on your sink counter and grinned, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. Because yes! Yes, you’d go to his and let him take care of you. God, you’d love to give him another blow job too.

Only if you want. When were you thinking?

His response came faster than you expected.

H: Are you free tonight? Say 6 or so?

You weren’t technically free. You needed to finish your paper but fuck it. Harry would be worth a rushed final product.

That works for me : )

You met him at Maud’s like the first time. Only this time you bought his tea and a sandwich for him. He told you it wasn’t necessary but you felt like it was the least you could do. You walked back to his apartment together and told him about your paper that was due and he talked about his thesis. Harry was an interesting person. He wasn’t just eye candy, he had real depth. And he was kind.

“So why don’t you have a T.V.?” You asked as you sat on his couch and he plopped down next to you, drawing his arm over your shoulder.

“No time really. I’m telling you, I am almost always studying and doing coursework. Used to have one but it was too much of a distraction.”

You laughed, “And this isn’t a distraction?” You motioned your hand between yourself and Harry.

He shifted his seating and his hand moved from your shoulder to the side of your neck as he gently pulled at you, “Oh it’s a distraction all right. But this is the kind that’s worth it. Television has never been worth missing out on a good study sesh,” he laughed and you laid your palm on his chest.

“Well, I hope it’s worth it. Don’t feel like I’m all that amazing. Kind of ju–“

Your words were abruptly cut off with his mouth over yours. You let out a surprised squeak and Harry laughed against your lips, “Sorry… just want you, Y/n…”

You were a goner. You had never felt so sexy in your life as in that moment. Harry seemed quite ravenous and you didn’t know if it was because he was just horny in general or if it was because of you but the way he was licking at your mouth and touching your hip and moaning it felt a lot like he was simply into you. At least that’s what you were going to believe.

He got you into his bed again, your pants and sweater on the floor as he kissed your tummy. Your head was spinning, “Your lesson today,” he spoke between soft pecks over your skin, “Is to see how special you are. How you deserve to feel good. To be with someone who’s going to worship you…”

He hadn’t even touched your clit and it was already throbbing under your cotton panties. The man knew just what to say and you couldn’t help but melt into his mattress and moan his name.

You didn’t have much experience. But you knew one thing and that was that Harry was really really good. He pulled an orgasm from you like an expert, fingers tucked deep into your pussy with his tongue and lips sliding expertly over your sensitive clit. You could hardly even remember getting your clothes off but you didn’t forget his words as he pushed your thighs apart and nosed at your pussy, “So sweet, honey,” he looked up at you, “Can I call you honey?”

Honey. You didn’t mind. Of course not. He could call you whatever he wanted.

And when you finally came down from your orgasm, you shivered as he kept sucking on your clit. You tried pushing at his forehead and he hardly budged as he lifted his mouth from your pussy, “Relax. One more okay? Give me one more, honey?”

Fuck. You were not sure how you were going to survive this man.

When you were panting and sweating after your second orgasm Harry laid next to you and kissed your neck and told you how sweet and perfect you were. You tried returning the favor but he just shook his head and pulled your hand away from his obvious erection to kiss your knuckles, “This wasn’t about me tonight. Just for you, okay? I’m fine. Took care of myself before you came over anyway.”

“But you’re hard…”

“And I promise you that I’m fine. You deserve to be taken care of, Y/n. Don’t like how you’ve been neglected. Want you to just get what you need tonight.”

You stayed at Harry’s for another couple of hours. Just talking and laughing. It was like you two had always known one another. You learned a little about his childhood and you told him about yours. He was sweet and easy to talk to and you loved how he kept holding your hand and pinching your bottom lip as you’d talk. And when it was time to go he called you an Uber again, to which you protested, telling him that was unnecessary.

“It’s absolutely necessary. Don’t want anything to happen to you and this way I can watch the route and make sure you get where you need to go.”

It was like you were another person for the next week and a half. You were feeling quite confident and you ignored Gunther’s text to “hang out”. Harry made you feel like you deserved more. Even if you’d never have anything serious with Harry, he sure made you feel special.

But one night when you and your roommate were hanging out at a sorority house, you overheard something that made your stomach turn.

“You stayed the whole night?”

“Yep. He asked me to. Fucked me so good I almost couldn’t walk and he’s just so nice… I kind of thought he’d have me leave but he said he wanted to make sure I was okay.”

“What’s he like?”

“Well, everything about him is just…” the girl grinned and bit her lip with that dreamy, faraway look in her eye, “He’s so hot up close too. His body… holy shit, you should see this man’s body! But his dick… when I felt that thing inside of me, I was a dickmatized. He’s big and it’s just… perfect. But it’s not just that he’s got a big cock, he’s like… super nice and just knows how to orchestrate the whole experience. Talked me through it all, it was so sexy, and he knows what he’s doing.”

“And you’re gonna ask for another session?”

The girl nods, “Oh yeah. I already did. Well, the morning when I left he fucked me again and then ate me out and told me to call him if I ever needed anything. So I obviously called him…”

Harry wasn’t your boyfriend. He was a single man who had a reputation. He was known for this very thing. So why did it bother you? Why did it make you feel nauseated and jealous? You didn’t even get to have full-on sex with him. It was just oral sex both times, but it felt like you missed out in a way, not having the opportunity to have him like that. But perhaps it was better that you hadn’t had actual sex. Because your wandering thoughts and feelings were betraying your good senses. Images in your brain of you and Harry being a couple were silly. That was never going to happen. Maybe continuing to see Harry would be a bad idea after all. You were already feeling things for him that you shouldn’t be.

And, so, when Gunther called you again the day after you heard that story you decided to answer the call and give him yet another chance. He asked for another “date”. But this time you told him you wanted to actually go out somewhere first. Like on a real date. Maybe a change of scenery would be nice. Maybe the third time would be the charm, as they say. Perhaps if you gave him one more shot he’d redeem himself. Maybe you’d finally get what you were looking for all along.

So there you both were on a Saturday night at the bar with house music playing. You were readying yourself for another round of disappointment and being left unsatisfied when he refused to dance with you. The bar you two had gone to had a DJ every Saturday night and you thought it could be fun to have a couple of drinks, eat some bar food, and dance a bit. But Gunther didn’t want to get up off his stool and he went way beyond just a couple of drinks. You weren’t sure how many he had at that point but it had become clear that he just wanted to drink and get back to his room so he could get his dick sucked and send you on your way.

This time, however, there would be no blow job. You had already decided on Ubering back to your dorm alone afterward. You just had to figure out how to break it to Gunther first.

.           .

Harry had been wondering about you since the last time he saw you. The nervous pretty girl who wound up being quite the breath of fresh air for him. He didn’t expect you to call him for another session but he kind of hoped you would. Or at least just a text to hang out. The last night he had you at his place he felt like you were an old friend. A hot friend who he wanted to bang, but a friend, someone he felt comfortable with who he could talk to all night. He was surprised at how easily the conversation flowed with you. And so it was kind of disappointing when you didn’t reach out to him again. He felt like maybe you weren’t that into him.

He even wound up having to cancel on someone he’d made plans with. He wasn’t sure he was ready to look at anyone else naked. He needed time to get his head on straight. Which just meant he was concerned he’d be thinking about you while he was with someone else. And that was something he refused to do with anyone; think about one person while being with another.

And now it was almost two weeks later and he was still thinking about you. Kept wanting to text you to ask how you were. To see if you wanted to just hang out. He figured if you wanted more you’d reach out. He didn’t want to assume you felt whatever it was he felt. He wasn’t even quite sure what he was feeling.

So when his friend invited him to go out for a few drinks he thought it would be a good opportunity to get his mind off of you so he decided why not? He didn’t often go out to drink. He didn’t have time for it, truth be told. But his buddy wanted to celebrate landing a big job and Harry said he could only hang out for a couple of hours because he had to be up early the following morning to study but he could use a couple of hours away from schoolwork to let loose a bit.

The bar was packed and the room was loud with music and an open dancefloor where people were dancing and flirting. He figured he’d go out and dance for a song or two after a couple of beers and then call it a night. As he was on his second pint he gazed around at the tables with girls in their short dresses and guys trying their hardest to impress and that’s when he spotted you. He felt his heart float up into his throat and then he narrowed in his sight to see who you were with. Gunther.

Harry had looked up this Gunther guy. He was easy to find. He was following you on Instagram and being that there weren’t many called Gunther he knew right away it was him. Why did he look him up? It was just another thing that had Harry a bit perplexed. Being someone on the path to becoming a sex therapist, one would think Harry had more of an idea of what was going on in his own head. But maybe it was more just a matter of whether or not he was ready to admit what he was feeling.

You appeared bored. Annoyed maybe. You had your chin propped in your hand and you were swirling your drink with a straw. Your eyes were focused on the dance floor and Gunther was looking a bit tipsy. He was staring at his phone. If Harry were there with you he’d have his whole attention on you. He wouldn’t even be thinking about his phone. Hell, he had his whole attention on you now and he wasn’t even there with you.

He wondered what it was you saw in Gunther. He knew the man wasn’t doing it for you. He could just see it in your posture. If you had been well fucked, or at least satisfied on some level, and given the attention you deserved your demeanor would have been different. Harry could do that for you. He’d seen how you responded to a good orgasm and how relaxed and confident you got when you were satisfied.

When he saw you sip the last of your drink and say something to your date, who didn’t even so much as give you a glance, you got up and made your way to the dancefloor when the new song came on.

Watching you sway and dance alone had Harry’s heart rhythm increasing. Your dress was riding up your legs and you had your arms raised and your eyes closed. It was clear you were just trying to enjoy your time whether or not Gunther was. He was glad you were dancing and doing your own thing.

“Who’s the girl?” Harry’s friend asked as two more guys joined them at the table.

“Y/n. A friend.”

“I bet. You gonna go be her friend again tonight?” Paul’s elbow teasingly poked at Harry’s arm.

Harry nodded, “You know what? Maybe I will. Looks like she could use some company.”

Leaving his beer behind at the table with his mates Harry scanned his eyes back towards Gunther who was still enmeshed in whatever was on his cell phone’s screen. He couldn’t believe the guy wasn’t watching you dance. You were a sight.

Harry wound his way through the crowd before he got close enough that he could get your attention. But your eyes were still closed as you sensually moved your hips and swayed to the beat. He began to dance, only a few feet in front of you as he watched you move and feel the music. He stepped in closer, glimpsing down over the skin on your neck and up to how your lips were slightly parted, a bit of sweat building at your brow line.

And when you finally opened your eyes to see the very man you’d had on your mind it came as quite the surprise. You blinked your lashes at him as he grinned down at you, “Harry?”

Your smile stretched over your face as you continued letting the music guide your movements and he took your hand, gently pulling you closer to breach the space between you, “Hi.”

“Hi,” you gazed up at him like you were in a dream. Was he really here? “What are you doing here?”

He laughed and moved his hand to your hip, “Came out with some friends,” he glanced toward the table where Gunther was still laser-focused on his phone, “I see you’ve come with someone as well.”

You followed his gaze and then looked back up at him, “Yeah. Was trying to give him one more shot.”

Harry’s big hand had a firm grip on your hip as you both moved away from the sight of Gunther, still dancing, “One more shot? You think he’s worth it?”

Shaking your head you laid your palm over his chest, “I don’t know. Just wanted to see.”

Harry let out a laugh and shook his head, “You think he’s gonna satisfy you? Or you think you’ll be left wanting once again?”

You felt your face warm up as you shook your head no and shrugged.

“Then why are you here with him, Y/n?”

You shrugged again and looked down at the collar of his shirt, “Just wanted to see if a night out would make it better.”

Harry pulled his free hand around the back of your hip and ducked his head down to your line of sight, “And look at him over there. Not paying you the attention you deserve. If it were me I’d be out here dancing with you and showing you off to everyone.”

You laughed, that smile he was searching for back on your face again, “You are technically out here dancing with me.”

“See? I say what I mean. You’re too special to waste your night with him. You planning on leaving here with him after?”

“Don’t think so. I mean look at him… he doesn’t care if I’m here or not. He probably just wants his blow job and he’s suffering through all this just to get his balls drained,” you laughed and covered your mouth with your free hand. You didn’t know what’d gotten into you saying that but you didn’t regret it when Harry let out a loud guffaw.

“It’s cause you’re so good, Y/n,” Harry ran his hand up your spine to wrap his fingers along the back of your neck, and he ducked his mouth close to your ear to speak, “You know that right? How good you are? Got me all flustered right now thinking about it. Don’t go back with him. He’s not worth it.”

Your eyes fluttered when you felt his warm breath on your ear and down your neck. You loved what he was saying to you but you also knew he was probably just being nice. Like he was to everyone. Like he had been to that girl he let stay over after you. While you were pining over him he was fucking another.

Not that you had any right to be jealous. There were no strings in this relationship.

“I think I’ll just get an Uber back to my place. That’s what I was planning anyway,” you turned in to respond to him.

Harry moved you to the rhythm slowly and the feel of his hands on you was exciting. But you didn’t want to get caught up in how it all felt because you knew you’d just get attached to him. He was so nice and so good and being with him had you feeling like you were special to him. Though, you knew the truth. You were just like everyone else.

Except that every time you looked into his eyes it was deep and there was a well of emotion or something that couldn’t just mean nothing. But maybe that was just you being the silly optimist that you were.

“Can’t believe he didn’t give you anything,” his gaze seared over your face, “Can’t believe he wouldn’t want to.”

You felt his hand gently squeeze the back of your neck and his heart was pumping healthily under your palm. He ducked down again, his voice vibrating off the shell of your ear and the heat of his body enveloping yours, “He’s missing out because you’re so sweet. Feel lucky I got to taste you and he never has. Might sound selfish but I hope you don’t let him.”

You panted when his lips grazed over your earlobe and then he planted a hot kiss to the skin just underneath, “Let me have you again. Come back to mine and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. Want to taste you and feel, Y/n. Missed you…”

Your brain was blurry as he smudged his lips down your neck. Your skin pricked in delight at the cool air that hit every damp spot left behind by his mouth.

“What the fuck?”

Your little bubble burst when you heard Gunther’s voice. Harry kept his arm around your low back, continuing to hold you close.

“Dude… what is this?”

“It’s… Gunther this is Har–“

“I don’t care who he is. Why is he dancing with you and kissing you?”

“That’s a good question,” Harry responded, “You should have been out here with her but you were too interested in your phone to notice that someone else was enjoying her company and paying attention to her like she deserves.”

Gunther laughed and stumbled forward, trying to pry Harry’s hand from your waist, “Come on…”

“Go home, Gunther,” Harry moved you behind his back and stood tall to look down on your date.

Gunther looked at you, dumbfounded, “Is this guy for real?”

You nodded and grabbed onto Harry’s arm, “Yeah. You should leave and get some rest. I think you’ve had too much to drink. I’m sorry–“

“Don’t apologize to him. He should have been acting like your date.”

“So, you’re not coming back to my room with me? My roommate’s out all night, Y/n…”

Shaking your head you stepped next to Harry, “No. I’m not. I think I’m just gonna go home myself–“

Harry looked down at you, “You sure you want to go home?”

“Fine. This was a lame date, anyway,” Gunther laughed and pointed at you, “Don’t call me again.”

Rolling your eyes as your date walked off you looked back up at Harry who was still looking down at you with a confused expression, “You really don’t want to come with me?”

You swallowed and let go of his arm, “It’s not that… It’s just kind of complicated and a mess of things I don’t want to explain…”

Harry took your hand, “Try me.”

You shook your head as you both moved away from the crowd of swaying bodies, “This isn’t a therapy session, Harry. I have real feelings and I’m not cut out for casual like some people.”

He followed you toward your table where you had left your purse. You wanted to make sure you got it before anyone else did.

“What does that mean, Y/n? Talk to me.”

When you pulled your purse over your shoulder you shrugged as you looked up at him, “Come on Harry. You know what I mean. You and I are in different leagues. You are having fun and sleeping with all these people, which you’re totally allowed to do! And I barely have any experience and was even so desperate that I went out with Gunther again in hopes of some kind of connection–“

“Hey,” Harry softly grabbed your face and let the pads of his thumbs graze over your cheekbones, “You and me have a connection. And there are no leagues, Y/n… that’s something made up.”

You puffed out a laugh but you really wanted to melt into him, at his soft touch, “But we’re looking for different things, Harry. And that’s fine, really… I should go…” You began to walk toward the exit and Harry followed you out the doors.

The silence and the darkness outside were only tempered by the streetlights with the noise of a car passing and the bass of the music coming from inside the bar you’d just walked out of.

“I hope you don’t think I took your company for granted, Y/n. I really, genuinely like you. Haven’t stopped thinking about you since our last night together.”

You nodded with a faint smile, “That’s nice to hear. I know you’re a super nice guy, Harry. And I hope this doesn’t sound rude or anything… but it’s just hard for me to really believe you were thinking much of me afterward. I imagine you stay booked and busy.”

Harry’s brows stitched together, “Booked and busy? I don’t just have lots of girls over all the time, Y/n. I am a busy man though. I’m in my coursework program and working on my thesis. I’m not just fucking around all the time. Haven’t had anyone over since you, actually.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “No? What about a pretty blond who stayed the night with you? I’m guessing it was last week?”

He shook his head, “Had no one over last week.”

“Really?” You looked down at the concrete sidewalk and wondered if you’d gotten it wrong. You swore it sounded like she had just seen him the way she was talking.

Harry pulled your hand into his, “You’re the last girl I had over. Was supposed to see someone the other day but I canceled. Wasn’t feeling it anymore.”

You sighed, “I mean… obviously you can do what you want and see who you please. I’m just… my point is that I’m worried about getting attached. You’re good at casual and I’m not. So… seeing you again might be fine for you but for me, it holds so much more meaning. It’s just how I’m programmed. I can’t help it.”

He nodded and bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t know why that little confession had his heart twisting, “I see. So you wouldn’t want to see me again then?”

“It’s not that I wouldn’t want to. I think you’re fun and we had a really good time but I don’t know if I can handle being one of the many. When I overheard someone talking about sleeping with you…” you shook your head, “I was sick to my stomach even though I have no right to feel that way. Does that make sense? And I’m not like saying,” you gestured your arms about, “… that I’m already attached or anything. It’s just I am not cut out for being with someone who’s also sleeping with others. So it’s better to cut our losses. My losses… before I actually get hurt.”

Harry could understand that. He’d dealt with this before. Girls getting jealous of other girls. And so then at that point, it was time to part ways as amicably as possible. Because Harry was a single man and not ready for commitments like that. His only commitments were finishing his thesis, getting his doctorate, and working toward opening his own practice one day. That was where his heart was. Not with any one girl who might come along. Perhaps one day he’d settle down. After he met all his life’s goals first.

But looking at you and your pretty eyes, the ones that had him in a trance, the ones he couldn’t stop thinking about that had him canceling on another girl… well he was quite torn. He didn’t know what he was feeling exactly. All he knew was that he had a plan, a path he’d forged and would continue on until he got what he wanted. And never in that plan did he imagine meeting someone along the way who could disrupt any part of that.

“I wish you’d reconsider.”

You shook your head as you looked at his soft green irises, wondering if that would be the last time you’d get to see them up close. You wanted to repeat his words to him. I wish you’d reconsider. Because that’s what it would take. You couldn’t do casual and you’d drive yourself mad knowing he was sleeping with others. There was nothing wrong with Harry. In fact he was quite astonishing and impressive. But that would only make the eventual parting even worse for you and so you figured it was better this way. It would be nice to have him again but you’d just be falling deeper into that hole. You knew yourself all too well.

Your Uber had arrived and you smiled up at Harry, “I can’t. I found myself thinking about you too much and just imagining how it’d be if we did more… I’d really be a mess. But truly, you’ve been so great, Harry. I wish you all the best.”

You climbed into the back of the black Toyota and Harry thought he should stop you. He thought he should climb in after you and tell you that you were making a mistake. That he really didn’t know what he was doing but he couldn’t just let you leave like that. He could figure it out if he did it with you.

But God, what was he thinking? Why would he do that? He didn’t know you well enough to be making such big decisions that could derail the very rigid plans he’d already made for himself. So he let you go. He watched as the car took you down the street until you were out of sight completely and he felt like something was missing. For the first time ever there was a pit in his gut, an obstruction that had him faltering. Had he just fucked up? Or had he done something that was for the better?

He honestly didn’t know.

.           .           .

The university you attended was like a small town. Thousands of people attended classes and milled about the campus every day. And despite how many people there were gossip was quickly and easily spread. It shouldn’t have surprised you because if there was one thing a college girly was good at, it was gossiping and learning more details about gossip they heard. And who happened to be one of the most talked about grad students on campus? To your utter dismay, the name of one of the most popular and attractive guys at university was Harry Styles. You’d never paid much attention to it before you met him. But now every time his name came up you were all ears.

Now you didn’t go believing all the things you heard in general. Most gossip was easy enough to ignore or brush off as inconsequential or probably a downright lie. But your ears did perk up when you were at a frat party and you heard Harry’s name mentioned. And the only reason you even heard it was because your roommate was chatting with a girl who was talking about him.

“Yeah, I guess Harry’s been seeing people but not doing anything with them. Like he brings them to his place or whatever and then he just freezes and apologizes but Lora said, and I’m just saying what I heard from her, that he really liked some chick and she didn’t want to see him again and he can’t get over her or something?”

“That’s interesting. I heard he canceled on someone a month ago- Amy’s friend who hung out with him once. So maybe this has been going on since then?”

Your roommate turned to look at you, narrowing her eyes and you knew what she was thinking. But even if the part about him being upset over some “chick” was true, certainly that had nothing to do with you.

“I heard the same thing,” another girl chimed in, “My brother is in a class with him and he said Harry’s been kind of down I guess.”

“Your brother takes note of his mood?” One of the girls laughed.

“Oh yeah. Only because I ask about him. When I found out he had a class with Harry I was like tell me everything!” She laughed.

You had a feeling that most of what you were hearing was false. Harry was so confident and just having a good time you couldn’t imagine he’d freeze up around anyone like that.

As the night went on, the frat house became packed with people. Dancing bodies, music, drugs, alcohol, hookups… You were there for the dancing and alcohol part. Your roommate had her eye on the debate team champ, Alex, and was hoping to get lucky finally (they’d been kind of playing a cat-and-mouse game that she was ready to finish once and for all).

You kept your drink in hand the whole time. Only refilling when necessary and trying not to get too wasted. That was never cute and it was also dangerous. But you loved dancing and letting loose with others who were just as bad at dancing as you were. It was fun to not worry about what you looked like because no one really cared.

Except that when you heard Gunther’s voice from behind you and felt his sticky hand on your arm you wanted to vomit, “Look so good, Y/n…”

He was drunk. His voice was slurred and you were annoyed at his presence. You pulled away from him but being the nice girl you were you smiled and made small talk for a bit as you kept moving your hips to the music.

“Come back to my room again tonight. Miss this mouth,” he plucked at your lip and you swatted his hand away, the smile on your face dropping instantly. No more nice girl.

“No thanks.” You turned to leave the area where everyone was dancing to get away but he followed behind.

“Oh, come on. You love sucking me off. You’re so good at it too.”

Finally. A compliment. But of course, it was too little too late and certainly not the time nor the place for such words. Besides, you were no longer attracted to him, and no matter what angle he tried it wasn’t going to work.

“Go away, Gunther!” You suddenly snapped at him and he stopped mid-stride and looked at you like you had two heads with horns.

He lifted his hands in surrender, “Okay. Fine. Jesus.”

You turned to make your way to the kitchen for a refill when you saw something that made your heart drop and your stomach bubble in gross shock. It was Harry Styles dancing slowly behind some cute girl, his arms wrapped around her front, leaning down to her shorter height and he was kissing the side of her neck.

Your Harry. The one who had you all gooey and giddy after that “session”. The one who kissed your neck not that long ago. You wished he was dancing behind you like that. You wished you hadn’t been so sensitive and that you could throw caution to the wind and not care that he was sleeping with others. You wished you could have just given in that night at the bar and gone back to his… But you said no to him. And now here he was with someone else.

You gulped and turned to go to the bathroom instead, Gunther still eyeing you up from the spot where you’d left him.

You stayed in the bathroom for a bit. Not wanting to go out and see Harry and the cute brunette dancing. You knew she was in for a treat later on. But that should have been you. Pouting at yourself in the mirror you felt ridiculous. You knew what it was with Harry. That he was a free and single man and could do as he pleased. You really had no right to feel upset over what you’d seen. He’d done nothing wrong.

Dumping out the last bit of your drink in the sink you figured maybe it was just time to leave. You didn’t want to have to deal with Gunther nor did you feel like seeing Harry all over someone else. Perhaps tonight was just not going to be your night.

As you opened the bathroom door a figure stood in the way and your immediate thought was that Gunther had followed you but as you trailed your eyes upward it was clear the man was taller and you didn’t miss the nail polish on his fingers when he gripped the door. Everything stopped. The music, the air around your body, your heart…

“Y/n…” That deep voice spoke your name like it belonged on his tongue.

You looked up at him, removing your hand from the doorknob, and gave him a confused smile, “Hi Harry. What are you doing?”

He seemed off. Not drunk but maybe not quite sober either? You weren’t sure what to make of his behavior as he pulled the door open and stepped into the bathroom, closing it behind himself.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he stepped in toward you, your bottom hitting the edge of the porcelain sink, “Nothing makes sense lately. Just want to go back to how things were but I can’t. S’like I’ve got some kind of block. Something’s missing…”

You shook your head, not really understanding what he was talking about as he continued.

“I don’t know what’s going on in my head. Are you really still with Gunther?” He looked hurt. Wounded almost.

“No. After that night at the bar, I haven’t talked to him. He just happened to be here.” “You were dancing with him.”

“Well, not really. I was dancing and then he came up behind me. I was just being nice talking to him but then he said something and…” you scoffed, “Why does it matter? You were dancing with someone else. And you were all over her. You should be out there with her enjoying yourself, Harry.”

“Can’t. Haven’t been able to enjoy anyone. Don’t want to anymore. Every time I do this now I just… can’t.”

“But you were. You were kissing her neck, having fun. Looked quite cozied up to her, Harry. I imagine she’s waiting for you to return right now.”

“I mean I can’t lie to myself anymore. I’ve been kidding myself. I can never go through with it. I don’t want her. That was just a show. When I saw you with him… it’s dumb. I don’t know what I’m doing, Y/n.”

You sighed and scanned his face. He did seem down, “So why are you here in the bathroom with me? Did you want to talk to me? Is there something I can do?”

Truly you were racking your brain trying to figure out why he was there and why he was telling you everything he was. Now you weren’t a dumb girl, but you would never have assumed what he was about to tell you in his next breath.

“Yes. There is something…” he swallowed, his soft green irises fixed on your mouth, “Can you kiss me? Just once more. I just need to see something with you. Is that okay?”

You felt dizzy. Felt confused. Felt your breaths shallow as he looked back into your eyes, “What? I don’t understand. Why?”

Harry softly brushed his knuckles against yours, “Because I can’t stop thinking about you and every time I try to see someone I just see you. And it’s driving me mad and I don’t understand it really but I just need to know something and I think if I could kiss you maybe it would help clear up the fog in my brain.”

“The fog…” you whispered the words back to him and felt his fingertips against yours. And it was suddenly clear to you what he was saying. You were the one who had him all messed up. The “chick” he couldn’t get over. You didn’t know how it was possible or why but it was and he was begging you with his eyes and his fingertips. The heat of him standing only inches away from you was beckoning you to give in.  

When you wound your fingers through his and gently pulled him closer, your lashes fluttering up at him, you saw a light in his eyes, a sparkle of something like wonder and hope and relief. The strange nervous, tense energy you spotted when he first walked into the bathroom with you was suddenly gone.

He brought a hand up to your face, his long fingers curving around to the back of your neck, “It’s okay? I can kiss you, Y/n?”

“Yes. It’s okay, Harry.”

Closing his eyes, a shaky breath fell from his mouth as he relieved his lungs of the pressure in his chest and you braced yourself for his lips on yours but it wasn’t at all what you expected. It wasn’t rushed or filled with filth and lust. It wasn’t slobbery with an excited tongue finding its way into your mouth or teeth colliding in haste.

No. It was filled with warmth and it was soft, slow. He pressed his lips to yours and ran his thumb gently over your cheekbone, inhaling deeply. He squeezed your hand and lulled his lips up and down to the edge of your mouth and delicately swiped his tongue over your bottom lip. The warmth created embers as you parted your lips and ran your tongue against his and your heart lobbed in your chest at the emotion and the meaning you felt pouring from him.

He refused to rush the kiss, slowly opening and closing his lips against and around yours, softly licking and breathing and touching your face and your hand. And when you let out a small whimper the embers caught on fire and his hips were against yours and the fingers at the back of your neck held your face against his as he worshipped your mouth and you felt his nose nudge into yours before he gasped and spoke, keeping his eyes closed, “It’s you. It’s what I want. All I want. I knew it.”

You blinked your eyes open and cupped his jaw, “Harry… what do you mean?”

With his eyes still shut he sighed, “I just mean it’s you that I can’t move on from. I can’t describe it right now but you’ve done something to me and I need more of it.”

In most circumstances, those words would be music to your ears. But you were terrified of getting hurt. Terrified that he was just confused and if you entertained whatever this was he’d realize it wasn’t all that deep and he’d go back to his “tutoring”. Because he had said that when he first got into the bathroom with you. That he just wanted things to go back to how they were. And if you were just a means to an end, well, you didn’t want to be part of that, for your own sake.

“So you’re hoping that now things can go back to how they were before me? Yeah?”

Harry’s eyes opened and he looked down at you, shaking his head, “No. They can’t. I can’t. That kiss, Y/n… Was exactly what I thought. Can we get out of here? Go somewhere and talk?”

He was convincing. How could he not be? His irises were brighter and greener than they were before you kissed him and the thumb he smoothed over your jaw and to your earlobe had you melting, relenting. So you nodded to him and said your goodbyes to the two friends you arrived at the party with, following him outside, keeping your hand in his the whole time.

Your dorm room was closer so you decided to go there and it was like you were walking through a scene in some surreal movie that you couldn’t wait to find out what the ending was going to be. But before you could even get to your dorm, Harry had you against the wall at the art building, and the rush and the lust that you hadn’t quite gotten earlier in the bathroom was suddenly burning all around you.

Wet lips and hasty, shaky hands, hips pasted together away from the streetlamp that illuminated the sidewalk only feet from you… A heart-racing blur. Nipped lips and stifled moans, heaving chests…

And then a hurry to get to your building and find your way up to your room before the dizzy haze of Harry enveloped you again and it was all-consuming. You couldn’t peel yourself away from him and his lips found your neck and your skin and you pushed your hand under his shirt to touch his warm chest.

But he parted from you with a gasp, his chest rising and falling so rapidly his lungs were likely struggling to keep up.

“I’m sorry. That… Y/n I just really really like you.”

Pulling your hand from his chest you nodded at him and shifted on your bed so you could sit to your bottom next to him, “I like you too, Harry.” Obviously.

He ran a hand through his hair and nodded as he looked down at his lap and then dragged your hand over his thigh, sliding his fingers between yours, “I mean I want to be with you. I can’t even think about anyone else. I don’t want anyone else.”

You watched as Harry drew his fingers over your knuckles and between your digits then pressed his palm against yours.

“But… so you don’t want to like have what you had before? Like all the girls and the… you know,” you breathed out a laugh that was full of nerves, “The sessions? Weren’t you just having fun?”

He shook his head and turned to look at you, “It was fun. But it wound up just being kind of empty after a bit. Didn’t really get what I was looking for. I mean at first, I didn’t even know what I was looking for. But you know how you said you gave Gunther one last shot because you were hoping for some kind of connection?”

You nodded as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, wondering where he was going with all of it. Was he really about to say what you thought he was?

“I realized that’s what I was looking for. And you… Y/n there’s just this thing with you. I never connected with someone like that before. I never felt so… I can’t like describe…” he paused as he collected his thoughts, “Breathless? Or like… achy here,” he lifted a hand to his chest over his heart, “It’s this stinging dread, just a hopeless feeling. I never cared if someone didn’t want to see me again. But I cared a lot when you didn’t want to. It hurt.”

Those were the kinds of feelings you felt when you liked someone who didn’t like you back. It was that exact description that you were worried about with Harry. You were worried you’d feel all that and then he’d be with someone else the next week. It was for fear of that very thing. But he was feeling it. That devastation.

“I understand exactly. That’s why I didn’t want to see you again. Because I was worried I’d start to feel that too. And it hurts so much that it was easier to part ways before it got to that point. So I get it.”

“I don’t want to do it anymore. With anyone else. I’m done. And I’m so close to what I want… my degree. So I thought it was too much to focus on just one person but I think I was wrong. It’s a lot of work having people come and go. Maybe it’s better to just have someone I can trust and someone who’s there for me. Just one person who I feel a real connection with.”

You swallowed the lump down your throat and your tummy was in knots. It truly did feel like you were in a surreal movie scene all dreamy and untidy with bursts of vivid colors and soft stringed music slowly intensifying as the minutes drew on.

“Would you want that with me? To see what happens? I’m not saying it would be like a fairytale or anything but like… just a normal relationship. Get to figure out what this is between us and learn about each other. Just the two of us.”

“So, me and you?”

“Yeah. Me and you. Not something casual. I’d only want to see you.”

You hadn’t imagined your night going in this direction and it still felt like you were about to have a director enter your room and yell cut! It didn’t quite feel real but it was. Harry was sitting next to you on your bed with his hypnotizing bright green eyes on you, caressing your fingers and your palm with his.

“Okay. Yeah,” you breathed out your words and Harry’s pink lips turned upward in a boyish smile complete with adorable dimples and you couldn’t help but return the expression but it only lasted for a second or two before his lips were pressed against yours again.

Everything about him was intoxicating. His body against yours, his hands on your face and squeezing your hip as he laid you both down in your small bed. You wrapped your arms around him as he ran his tongue over the seam of your lips and it turned into something dirty and desperate, your hands grabbing at him and his fingers trailing under your shirt.

He squeezed at your bum, your jeans blocking him from feeling you unencumbered and then he parted from the kiss, his hair all wild and strewn about from your fingers, “Can we do this here? Is your roommate coming back?”

You looked at the clock on the table at the side of the room and it was well past 2 in the morning. You honestly weren’t sure if she was coming back but you knew she had hopes of going back to Alex’s place. But you also didn’t care. At least not in that moment with Harry right there with you, his scent all over your body, his jeans unzipped, and his shoes somewhere in your room.

“I don’t know. She might be out all night. Just… If she comes back we’ll cover up,” you laughed. You had once again lost your mind. Harry seemed to have you in some lusty trance you couldn’t break. Didn’t want to break.

Harry ducked down to kiss your neck as he fit himself between your legs, the bed squeaking under the sudden shift of weight. You could feel his open pants against your hip. You’d gotten a bit carried away when you were making out and undid them for him, to which he laughed but didn’t stop you. And now, that convenient thing was seductively calling to you as you reached your hand down to push at his pants.

“In a hurry are we?” He looked down at your hand and then at your face.

“Not really. I don’t know. I just want… you.”

Harry’s lids were heavy as he blinked his eyes, “Well you can have me. Whatever you want.”

He pressed the tip of his nose to yours before smearing his mouth against your lips and your fingers were back in his hair once again. Slow and luxurious. Hasty and filthy… Harry kissed you like he didn’t know which way was best. But you were getting fired up from the way he was doing it. You didn’t care, you just wanted it. Wanted his mouth and his tongue, his hands and his body, his moans and his hair between your fingers.

You were hot. Molten underneath him. Your panties were ruined and you were sure he knew what he was doing. Your mind wandered to where you’d put your condoms and then you felt his hands on your hip as he slowly began to slide your shirt upward.

He sat back, plucking at the front of his pants, and then put his hands back on your waist, “Can I get this off? All of it?”

You nodded and grinned with your lip bitten into your mouth as Harry got rid of your t-shirt and then unbuttoned your pants, “You too. Can we get your clothes off too?” You spoke as you lifted your hips and let him peel your jeans down your legs.

Harry grinned at you, “Absolutely. You already did part of the work here anyway,” he laughed as he gestured toward his unzipped pants.

Harry was left in his boxer briefs when the last thing you had to get rid of was your light blue panties. But Harry seemed quite transfixed by the wet spot on the fabric over your pussy. You were so wet the whole of the crotch was clinging to you, outlining what was underneath and Harry slid his thumb over the top of the material and parted his lip before looking up your face, “Fuck.”

You panted softly when he bumped into your clit and pressed over the slick spot, “Does that feel good, Y/n?”

You nodded, “Yeah. That feels good…”

“So warm and wet for me,” he drew his hand up to the elastic waistband and pulled it downward, “Gonna take a closer look. S’that alright?”

You were full of nothing but yes as you knocked your head up and down affirmatively and bounced your gaze from his eyes to where he was disrobing the last bit of material covering you.

He pushed out a quick succession of what sounded like a breathy whistle as he took you in with his eyes, his fingertips holding the soft, mushy part of your inner thighs so you stayed spread, “Fuck. Fuck, honey…” he licked his lips and looked up at you as he ran his thumb through your folds, “Can I have some of this again? Taste…”

He sounded almost as delirious as you felt. Taste… eat… suck… fuck… whatever he wanted. You nodded, “Yes, Harry.”

He leaned over your body, pressing his chest against yours, and kissed your mouth before dragging his lips down your neck and to your tits, stopping to suck and lick each one before he drew his hot mouth downward, sponging kisses over your tummy and to your hips.

Your legs were brought up to drape over his shoulders as he held onto your thighs and then watched you as he licked up from your gushy hole to your clit.

The sounds that fell from your mouth were pitiful. You had an ache that needed to be relieved and it seemed only Harry could do it. Every swipe of his tongue through your crease had you slipping toward the edge of the earth, “Harry…”

You did your best to keep your eyes on his, knowing that’s what he liked but you couldn’t help throwing your head back every time he sucked your clit and rolled it under his tongue. He was better than your clit sucker. He was better than anything or anyone else.

“Mmmm…” your attempt at stifling your moans only goaded Harry even more. He drew his lips over your clit and slid them side to side and the pressure that was building in your tummy had you shaking.

“Will you…” you gasped and pulled at his hair, “Can we have sex?”

You had an immediate urge. A need to feel him closer. Wanted him inside of you right then.

Harry lifted his face from your pussy and licked his lips, “You sure? You’ve had sex before, yeah?”

You laughed and let go of his curls with a nod, “Just with one person. I’m not very good.”

“I’m sure you’re amazing, Y/n,” he sat back, gently placing your legs down and you pushed yourself to sit up.

“I don’t know,” you grinned at him and ran your foot over his thigh, “Maybe you could give me a proper lesson. Think I need tutoring.”

Harry wrapped his palm around your ankle and shot a cheeky eyebrow up, “Oh you need tutoring, do you? Well, you didn’t sign up for a lesson with me. Think you’re just gonna get a freebie?” He laughed.

You shrugged as he lifted himself and began to pull his boxer briefs down his hips. Your eyes focused on his big cock. You couldn’t wait to see what’d feel like inside of you. You were positive he’d be gentle and give it to you good.

“So what are you saying? You charge for your services now?”

Harry pursed his lips to the side and smoothed his hands up your calves, “Teaching is hard work, Y/n.”

“I bet. How about just one last lesson? For me?” You bit your lip, rounding your eyes at him.

“Fine. Just for you.”

“Condoms are in the top drawer,” you pointed to your dresser, “Never been opened.”

He began to move off your bed but then paused, “Never opened?”

“Well, the guy I slept with had his own and we only did it twice so I’ve never used the ones I bought.”

You watched him walk to your dresser to find the unopened box of Trojans. Harry was so fit and masculine and his ass was gorgeous. He was a work of art from behind but when he turned and walked toward you he was angelic. His toned abs and strong thighs, skin littered with tattoos and bits of hair on his pecs, his handsome face, and of course, the heavy, thick organ between his legs, swollen and hard. Just for you.

He kneed up to you on the bed and handed you the wrapper with the condom, “Ever put a condom on a penis before?” He asked as he stroked himself

You shook your head and tore the wrapper open. When you had the rubber in your palm Harry flipped it over, “This side goes on my tip.”

You brought the condom to his tip and looked up at him as you began to roll the rubber downward but he stopped you, “That’s good. But first, pinch the top here, like this,” he brought your fingers to the top of the rubber and pulled at it away from his crown, “Just gives a little space for movement and for my come.”

You gulped at the image in your brain of the condom being filled with his come after orgasm. His shaft was wide and long as the rubber was rolled down as far as it could reach.

You looked up at his face and he was watching you closely with a soft smile, “Very good.”

Harry scooted himself between your legs, his knees butting against the back of your thighs as he smeared his fingers through your folds, “We’ll go slow. I want to make sure everything feels good. When you had sex before, did you come?

You shook your head no.

“And how did you do it? Was he on top?”

You nodded, “Yeah, he was on top of me. It was kind of quick. Both times. I lied and told him I came.”

“Okay. Did he keep your clit stimulated?” He asked as he thumbed at your clit, mushing into it to drive the point home.

You gasped softly, “No. Never touched it.”

“Not even once? What about foreplay?” He circled your bud and the slickness from your pussy began to coat his fingers.

“We just made out and he fingered me and I did get wet. But he never touched… ohhh….” Harry slid two long fingers into your entrance and you looked down to view the spectacle.

His hand was wet with your arousal as he pumped his fingers in and out slowly, “So you’ve just had a string of bad lovers. I’m gonna do my best to make up for it.”

You sighed as he dragged the pads of his fingers along your front wall before pushing them back into his knuckles, “You’re so wet and ready. You deserve to feel good, Y/n. Deserve to have someone care for you.”

You ticked your hips upward slightly and Harry pumped into you a bit harder, the gushy noises of your pussy getting fingered sounded dirty but so good.

When he pulled his fingers from you he held the base of his shaft in his palm and smoothed his free hand up your tummy, “We’ll start off with you on your back. I’m going to go in gently. Okay?”

You nodded and shot your eyes down to his cock and then back up to his face.

“There you go, just keep your eyes on me. Tell me if anything is uncomfortable.”

Harry pulled at your hand and brought your fingertips over your mound, “Rub your clit the way that feels best for you. Okay?”

“Mmhmm…” you nodded and slid your fingers over your nub as you kept your eyes on his.

The initial stretch of your slick muscle around his thick head had you gasping. He inhaled through his teeth and pressed in slowly, “Your body is so turned on. That feels all right, yeah?”

“Yes… feels good.”

“Yeah? Feels good for me too.” He was breathy as he sunk into you and then pulled back a few inches, looking down at where your bodies were connected, half his cock buried inside of you.

And it surprised you how thick he was and how much of him you felt. You’d always heard you don’t feel much when there’s a penis inside of you but Harry’s penis was definitely working into you and spreading your insides apart.

With your fingers delicately running over your bud you moaned, “Oh god… Harry…”

He gripped your thighs and pulled you closer before shifting himself over you, “We’re gonna make sure it feels so good okay? You’re kind of shallow and I can feel the resistance at this spot here,” he rutted in and you gasped, “Like that… depends on where you are in your cycle could be shallower or more space, but I’m only gonna push in as far as is comfortable for you.”

He had his hand on your cheek as he spoke, “Still feels okay right now?”

You nodded, “Yes. You can go deeper. Wanna feel it.”

Harry groaned softly and pressed his lips to yours. You had to pull your hand away from your clit because his pelvis was taking the place of where your fingers were. When he plunged himself in further you felt a delicious pinch and you panted into his mouth.

“Don’t want to hit your cervix. Usually, it’s not comfortable. I’m getting in there pretty deep, though. You okay?”

“Please… it’s okay.” You did want to feel it. Wanted to have him stuff you full and make you ache and burn and wince in pain. The dildo you used always hit your cervix and you didn’t mind the way it felt. Some days you liked it more than others, depending on how horny you were. And in that moment, you’d never been hornier. You wanted to feel him ruin you.

Harry let out a breathy laugh and pushed himself up so he could look into your eyes, “You want to feel it, honey?”

Nodding your head you felt him spread you apart and fuck into you with one deep rut. Your body bounced upward and you gasped.

He stilled his hips and stayed buried inside of you, his hand on your cheek, “That’s it right there, Y/n. Can’t get it in any further. You like that?”

It was obvious you did. The look on your face told him as much. Your eyes were fluttering and your mouth dropped open as you lifted into him, mushing your clit against his solid pelvis, “Mmm yeah…”

Harry swallowed as he watched your features soften then and scrunch with every thrust. He smoothed his thumb over your bottom lip and you licked at the pad of his digit before you wrapped your lips around it and he was in awe of how filthy you really were when he felt your nails dig into his back.

“S’hurt, honey? At all?”

You moaned around his thumb, your eyes blinking up at him, and nodded before hitching your leg up over his hip to indicate you still wanted more, pushing him in closer with the heel of your foot.

So you wanted it to hurt. At least a little anyway. Harry wasn’t going in hard and he wouldn’t. Not yet. Not until he learned exactly what you liked and what your body needed first. But every time he bottomed out you grunted and sucked on his thumb harder and he was losing it.

“Fuck… you’re so hot, Y/n. Look at you with your lips wrapped around my thumb. You just needed something to suck on, didn’t you? And you feel so good around me. So wet and warm, honey…”

You’d never had a man’s fingers in your mouth. You had no idea what you were doing but when Harry slid his thumb over your bottom lip it just came naturally to you. To pull it into your mouth and it was… god it was taking you over the edge. And he seemed to like it as you swiped your tongue around his skin.

But better yet? His cock. You were so full and it was so incredible to have him like that. The other guy you slept with was fine. But now you’d never want “fine” again. Not after this. Not with the way Harry was pulling himself back and then rocking into you, every plunge better than the last. He didn’t pound into you or try to race to the end. He wanted to make it good for you.

He began to pant deeply, his gasps lined with moans as his thrusts became clumsy and he stilled his hips before pulling his thumb from your mouth, “Let’s get you on top. Okay? Wanna watch you ride me and let you take control. Bet you’re gonna be good at it, aren’t you?” His irises scanned your face as he spoke, his thumb at your cheekbone dragging upward.

“I don’t know? I hope so…” you breathed as he nudged himself upward, deeper, “I do wanna be good for you.”

Harry moaned, “Yeah? You are good for me, honey. My favorite. You don’t even realize how good you are but I’m gonna keep telling you til you believe it. Okay?”

Your eyes were heavy and your body was hot. You nodded and let out a breathy, “Okay…”

“That’s right. Now we’ll have you get on top. Wanna watch my pretty girl get herself off on my cock.”

You felt him slide out of you and you looked down at his long condom-covered dick, coated in your juice. Everything smelled of sex as he dipped down and kissed your mouth before climbing next to you and lying down. He pulled at your hips, bringing you over his lap as you placed your palms on his chest and settled your pussy down at the base of his shaft. You wrapped your palm around him and slid it up and down to feel the rigidness of him. He was so hard and thick it made your mouth water.

With his fingers still at your hips he squeezed gently, “Depending on your angle it’s gonna feel very deep. Sometimes it can ache a little bit because I’ll be tucked up into your cervix,” he moved one hand toward the front of your low tummy, “But you can control how deep I get. Can even tilt your pelvis downward which will give your clit more stimulation. Might make it easier for you to come.”

You looked between your legs as you lifted your hips and rocked forward so you could press your entrance over his cock but then you felt his hand on your chin, directing your sight back to him, “Keep your eyes on me. Want to see your face while you’re pushing me inside of your pretty cunt, okay?”

You nodded and began to push yourself down. He fit inside of you so nicely. All snug and warm, packed inside of your guts. Every inch you took you could feel stretching your wall apart.

Keeping your eyes on his you raised your hips upward and then sunk down further to adjust, letting out a puff of breath as your lips parted until your bum was seated on his lap, his cock stuffing you to the brim.

Harry moaned, “Yes. Good fucking girl,” he made sure to praise you as much as he could because he noted how your eyes lit up every time he did it. Pulling at your hips, he brought your pelvis downward, “This is kind of like the starting position. You only need to grind and rub upward, don’t even have to lift off of me. Just slide in toward my belly button,” he pulled at you, causing you to drag upward on his cock but keeping your clit down against his pelvis, “See? Feels good cause you can keep your clit stimulated this way too. Let’s do this for a bit. Just get used to the motion here and do what feels good.”

It was easier than you thought. Your knees and shins were pressed into the mattress along the sides of Harry’s hips as you slid yourself upward. You’d always imagined it being some crazy acrobatic feat where you sat like a frog and bounced up and down like a pornstar. But this? This you could do. And it felt so intimate. Your palms were pressed into his chest, his hands moved down to your ass as he assisted you along his shaft and then back along to his base.

“Tell me how it feels, honey. The look on your face says you like it but want to make sure…”

You rocked your hips, gripping around him and pulling upward with your eyes on his, “It’s… god… it feels so good, Harry…”

“Feels good for me too. Love this angle,” he moved a hand up to your breasts and palmed at your nipples as you continued fucking yourself on him.

When you’d gotten into the movements and found a rhythm you could hear the wetness coming from your pussy every time you slid up and down his cock.

Harry continued smoothing his hand over your tits, “If you really want to feel me deep, lean back a bit.”

Pushing yourself to sit upright you adjusted your hips and the new angle had him deeper than he was before. You hissed as you swiveled your hips and Harry grunted, running his hand back down to your low tummy, “How’s that feel?”

“It’s kind of achy, but feels really good,” you spoke softly, looking into his eyes as you shifted your pelvis.

“God you’re taking me so well, honey… Look so gorgeous on top of me, pretty tits in my face, fucking yourself on my cock... making yourself feel good.”

Everything felt good. You were sure it was because of Harry. All the nice things he was saying had your head spinning and your heart thrashing.

He knew of course that you didn’t need instructions. You might not have had as much experience as he did but sex was something that came naturally for most. And you were so into it and your innate eroticism was shining through your more reserved demeanor.

Harry began to thrust upward, rocking into you, sticking himself in deep. He had one hand caressing your tits and the other pressed into your tummy. You weren’t sure why he was touching your tummy but when he thrust upward into you sharply you cried out and he pressed harder, “Fuck! You’ve got me so deep inside of you, honey. You wanna feel this?”

You reached your hand down to where his was, your hips writhing over him as he punched himself upward and you gasped when you felt the bulge in your tummy under your palm. He did it again and moaned with you, “Oh my god!”

You could feel his cock pressing through you when you put enough pressure on your tummy with your hand.

“Come here,” Harry wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and pulled you down, making you tilt toward him and smeared his lips against yours. The angle where you could rub your clit on his pelvis was the best. It felt so good and you began to rock yourself over him with whimpers into his mouth.

Harry smiled into the kiss, “Bet you’ve humped your pillow before. So you know how to do this. Sliding over my cock so perfectly, Y/n.”

You pushed your palms into his chest and rolled down over him, hips pasted to his. Your orgasm was already beginning to build and singe in your body as you nodded.

His hands were on your hips as he let you take control and ride him how you wanted, “I knew it. Already have experience with this position, yeah? You wanna come, honey? You gonna fuck yourself on my cock til you’re seeing stars?”

You moaned and nodded with your lips parted.

“That’s right. You already know what to do. Now hump it like a good girl. Show me how you do it, honey…”

Harry’s words were so sweet and yet filled with filth. You loved the way he spoke to you with such care but he could turn it so dirty in a heartbeat. Likening you riding his cock to humping your pillow somehow just pushed you over the edge. And you definitely saw stars as your face twisted up and you choked out his name, “Haaarrry! Harry! Yes!! Ohhhh…”

Your pulsing insides encased Harry’s cock and he let you take what you needed as he moaned and watched your tits bounce and sway with every rock of your hips until his balls were squeezing tight and his throbbing cock couldn’t resist the way you gripped around him.

You didn’t hear Harry’s grunts or his breathy moans as he pumped into you. You didn’t see his face contort in pleasure as he kept his eyes focused on you, the pretty girl coming on his cock. You didn’t take note of how when he’d fully emptied himself into his condom he was still watching you in awe as you were breathlessly panting over him, still coming around him, milking every last bit of him out into the rubber that separated your wet cunt from his thick shaft.

You didn’t notice any of that until you finally caught your breath and felt your body tremble as you looked down at him and felt his fingertips digging into the meat of your hips and saw his heavy eyes watching you. You were going to apologize about how you forgot to look at him when you were coming but he pulled you down over his chest and held you against himself. You could feel his heart beating in his chest and his lungs filling with air on every inhale.

He smoothed his hand down your back and to your bottom, “You okay?”

You puffed out a laugh against his chest. It was funny because obviously you were more than okay. You’d just come so hard your ears were ringing and your vision had nearly gone black just before. Your entire body was limp and wobbly over him as he caressed your bottom and your back.

“Fuck, honey. You came so hard. Did so good.”

You sighed and smiled to yourself as you pushed your hands into his hair, “I did?”

“Mmm… so good, Y/n. Deserve an award for that one.” He chuckled and you could feel the vibrations in his chest against yours.

Smoothing a hand down to his pec you lifted your head to look at him and laughed, “What kind of an award?”  

Harry slid his hand up to your face, “One of those gold star stickers teachers use. I think I’ve got a pack of them actually. Could put it on your t-shirt so everyone knows how good you are.”

The filthy grin on his face had you giggling, “You do not have a pack of gold stars. Do you?”

His smirk widened, “I do actually. And I know a girl who loves being praised who I can use them all on. Maybe we’ll even get you an ice cream.”

You shook your head with a smile on your face, “What if I want kitten stickers instead?” You teased.

Harry inhaled and turned his gaze to look at the ceiling before looking back at you, “Actually… I think I have kitten stickers.”

You laughed, making Harry laugh with you.

“Okay then. Tomorrow you owe me some kitten stickers and ice cream.” You would be asking him later why he had stickers in the first place.

Harry softly pinched at your bum, a lazy grin on his face, “Your roommate’s not gonna freak out if she comes back and I’m here?”

“Nah. I don’t see why she would. Long as you’re not naked.”

Harry chuckled, “And you don’t mind if I stay here either?”

“I’d like it if you stayed.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

“Good,” you bit your lip and trailed your fingers over the sparrow tattoos at his clavicle as you gazed into his eyes full of affection.

“Then tomorrow you get kitten stickers and ice cream for being such a good girl.”

“And maybe a little bit more of you too? Since I was so good?”

“Just a little bit more is all you want?”

You laughed through your nose, “Okay a lot more of you then.”

“Okay, it’s settled. Kitten stickers, ice cream, and a whole lot of me.”

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[heedeungism]

synopsis: riki knows you better than anyone else. includes: bridgerton au (barely), a little women reference, confessions of love, pre-marital kissing (the scandal!), gross old men, arranged marriage notes: @hoes4hoseok i hope you enjoy my timothee chalamification of riki, this one's for you girl🩷

there’s a thin line between love and friendship. your mother says she was friends with your father before she ever learned to love him, never in the way the poets rave, but in a way that made her life easier. in her words, “a love match is as rare as a diamond, dear. you shouldn’t hold out hope of one should it ruin your debut.”

it’s a shame, you think, that you can love someone so deeply and yet there’s no guarantee they’ll share the sentiment, nor a chance to see if what you feel is dwindling infatuation or true unyielding devotion. it’s improper to explore your options, greedy to want more than expected, and childish to yearn for love. yet you do.

your debut season approaches fast, and with it, the heavy promise of your hand to baron mortimer weighs your heart down like an anchor keeping you from daydreaming of the things you had read and researched about love.  he’s wealthy, titled, and twice your age. he would give your family a more comfortable life, save you from the shame of becoming a spinster if you do not find another suitable match your first season, and seems to be respectable enough despite his intent to marry you, a soon-to-be debutante he set his eyes upon years ago. it’s unnerving, but your mother speaks of him without disdain, so you keep your anxieties about his character at bay.

unfortunately, your dearest friend plagues your mind just so. riki’s return from oxford approaches with the same swiftness as your debut. you dread the idea of no longer having the liberty to write to him or paint him when he’s a willing muse, as it would be improper to do so while promised to another. for that reason you have yet to write to him since your last letter a week ago, where in it you bid him the gentlest farewell you could to help ease the ache in your heart.

you aren’t sure if he even received it, as he has not written back, but you suppose it’s for the best.

at least you believe that until he’s before you with unkempt hair and a haunted look in his tormented gaze. 

“tell me it is not true.” he says, chest rising and falling as if he had run from oxford to mayfair on foot, though perhaps he had been traveling by carriage since he received the letter clutched between his fingers. “tell me you are not marrying that man.”

you are unsure of how to respond, your lips parting hut no words leaving them. you turn toward your ladies maid, who blinks wildly as she receives the message, placing your hairpin down and hastening out of the room past the viscount’s son. the door clicks and yet his gaze remains unyielding, you finally speak, “you are back early, mr nishimura.”

riki had always been exceedingly easy to read, only to you, he used to pout. this moment is no different, and you can see how hard it is for him to wrap his head around his title leaving your lips instead of his name, but he recovers enough to repeat himself, “tell me.”

you place a hand on your stomach, squeezed by a corset that you suspect is why you can’t seem to catch your breath, “i will not lie to you.”

his brows furrow, his teeth peeking from his plump lips as they part in disgust and frustration, “he is old.”

“yes, i am aware of lord mortimer’s age.” you say with a similar frustration on your tongue that is heavily withheld by your propriety, “my mother saw it pertinent i educate myself before our marriage.”

“you cannot marry him.” riki says, and the frustration in your blood blooms into something more, something worse.

“that is not your decision to make.” you state, mindlessly flattening invisible wrinkles in your dress as he takes a step closer, only for you to fortify the distance with one of your own in the same direction, “not any more than it is mine.”

“you…” he loses his words as his hand clenches and releases at his side like he longs to reach for you, “you do not want this.”

“what i want does not matter to my parents anymore than it should to you,” you state, attempting to tuck the loose strand of hair that your ladies maid hadn’t the time to fit into your updo behind your ear, only for it to fall right back into place against your cheekbone, “lord mortimer is wealthy, he will give me a comfortable life.”

“do you not deserve a happy one?” riki asks, and you feel the cracks in your chest widen. instinctively, you fight the tremble of your chin and the tug in your brow as tears attempt to fit through the open crevice of your act.

“no, don’t—“ you shake your eyes, turning away from him as your arms drop to your sides, “don’t do that. i have accepted my future, i do not need you planting doubts in my mind.”

“what use would planting them do when i can see they’ve already taken root far before i arrived here?” you overlook the step he takes, nor how large his stride is. he only takes one yet it makes all the difference, as he feels infinitely closer than before. just as you feared he would.

“stop it.” you say, masked inside a heavy exhale, yet a plea all the same. “you should be visiting with your sisters, i’m sure they missed you dearly—“

“don’t marry him.” he says, and you finally look at him.

“what?” you ask despite knowing exactly what he said, you want to hear him say it again to make sure it wasn’t in your head.

he shakes his head, taking another step closer, “don’t marry him.”

“you…” he doesn't have to explain what he means, your childish hopes of love that you’d hidden so deep in your conscience do so for him. your heart sings as his eyes flick between your own and then down the bridge of your nose and lower, but your mind refuses to bend as your heart does. you shake your head, shuffling back to salvage whatever distance you can, “no.”

“yes.” he responds in kind, dropping the letter and closing the distance between the two of you to grab your hands. his next words are paired with the act of him flattening your palm against his chest, keeping it there while he grasps the other in his much larger hand, “you can’t marry him.”

“you are being cruel.” you try to pull away, but his grip is firm and you know that if you meet his gaze you won’t be able to fight it anymore.

there’s a sickening silence as his thumb draws shapes on the back of your hand, you can feel his heartbeat. it’s strong, and its pace only feeds your own heart wanton promises of devotion you had only ever been told were too rare to expect in your lifetime, “tell me you do not want me.”

the suddenness of his demand lowers your guard for just long enough for your heart to find the upper ground and force your eyes into his sights, he repeats himself, “tell me you do not want me and i will leave you to marry lord mortimer.” his words are punctuated by the hand not holding yours to his heart grasping the side of your jaw, his thumb moving against your warmed cheek, “tell me and i will never speak to you again, just as you requested in your letter. you will never have to see me and i won’t—“

“i don’t want that.” the words leave your lips without warning, but it’s too late to take them back by the time they reach his ears. you shake your head, “i don’t—i don’t want to marry, i want to paint and read and—“

he listens as your supposed acceptance crumbles beneath his gaze, chest heaving under your palm. “—i want to do all of those things with you, i do. the baron has my parents under his wretched thumb and i cannot bear it, i cannot—“ a sharp inhale rakes your body, a mix of a sob and a desperate but fruitless attempt to regain composure, “i don’t want you to go away, i want you to stay here with me and—“

his lips meet yours with a firmness that sets your heart aflame, and when he pulls away just enough to look at you your heart finally lands the finishing blow in its fight against your mind. your hand lingers on his chest as the one he uses to keep it there moves to mirror its counterpart on the other side of your jaw.

you barely glance down at his lips before they’re on yours again, a welcome experience that you hope you can experience over and over until you’re utterly familiar, but now you're not sure how to reciprocate. the novels you’ve read did little to educate you on the experience, much less prepare you for it to occur with the boy you’d found yourself longing for through the years. 

the gasp you let out when his hand moves from your jaw to your waist to tug you closer is silenced by his lips attaching themselves to yours like he’d spent a lifetime wishing to taste you.

he pulls away, yet he doesn't seem keen on keeping the distance, his nose brushing yours as he promises, “i will speak to your parents—”

the mention of them has your guts turning painfully enough to rip you away from him, nausea hitting you like a bullet through your throat, “i should not have done that.”

“i kissed you—“ his statement does little to quell your sickness, and the wavering grate in your voice as you interrupt him is telling of that. “that changes nothing.” your fingers move to your hair, the pin keeping it in place falling to the floor as you tug, “i am ruined. forget marrying the baron, i cannot marry anyone.”

“was i not clear?” he asks, and when you look at him with frustrated reluctance he continues, “should i gut myself? place my heart in your hands to have you understand how you haunt me?”

“we cannot marry.” you say, bottom lip trembling, “i will not be a consequence of your actions. it is not your duty to marry me when i am the only one ruined.”

riki’s jaw shifts as if your words brought him only fury, “i do not care for duty, i care for you.” 

“you are young, riki. you are not expected to marry for at least—“

“i want to.” he states firmly, “you said you wanted me to stay, so i am staying. i will dance with you at balls. i will send flowers and call on you every morning. i will promenade alongside you for as long as it takes. i…”

he moves towards you, thumbs brushing away the tears under your eyes as his forehead meets yours, “i am yours, do with me what you will.”

©heedeungism : do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission.

[branmuffins22]

Allegedly, because the first time they really bonded was in Latissa, located in the Titan's armpit.

Honestly though, I kinda hate that name.

Obscure fictional geographic references aside, there's also no good reason why whoever coined it decided to go with "twins", besides the obvious familial connotation. As a twin myself (and one who knows several other multiplets), I'd say their relationship isn't even all that twin-like, though it is very sibling-y (i also have non-twin siblings).

The main thing that really makes twins different from regular siblings is their parallel upbringing. We grow up with a peer constantly (not consistently, CONSTANTLY) at our side, able to keep us company and potentially cover any shortcomings. We're quite often a package deal, and so we tend to be kinda poorly-rounded as individuals.

Luz and Hunter, however, grew up relatively alone, and aren't implied to spend any time together outside of crises until s3e1. Their dynamic is also weirdly hierarchical, despite being placed on nearly-even footing for most of season 2, what with Hunter being above the law and Luz being outside it. When they aren't busy being menaces to eachother, Luz is taking charge and playing protector for Hunter nearly every time we see them together.

While they've got all the banter and fighting and reluctant ride-or-die attitude of siblings, they lack the crucial equality and connectedness of supposed "twins".

Hey. Why do people call them pittwins

[artsninspo]

FORGIVELESS - I - NOT IN THE DARK ANYMORE 🌒

Full Masterlist

RIO MASTERLIST

I - Not in the dark anymore

Author's Note: Record scratch … I was working through some writer's block when this concept came to me. Instead of letting it pass here it is. I can promise part two because it’s already outlined.

Pairing: Rio X Reader

Word Count: 2K

Warning: Mature themes and mentions of cheating.

Summary: What is supposed to be a romantic date night with your husband quickly descends to a night of nightmares after meeting a charismatic entrepreneur named Rio with what you perceive to be an uncanny insight on your current situation.

Rio scans the floor of his newest business endeavour. He’s been successful at counterfeiting but now he needs new ways to wash his money. His bars had been doing so good he decided to move into the restaurant business. While notoriously fickle he didn't have the same financial restraints as other new owners. It only took him six months to find his foothold in the industry and now he had one of the city's most in demand establishments for special occasions. Looking around he spots a gentleman who was in the last time he’s stopped by to check on things. Looking across from the man he sees you sitting all done up. He needed strong attention to detail in his line of work. It was a safety precaution but your body language brings the situation into full view. Sitting back he looks under the table only to have his suspicions confirmed. The other woman had her foot up halfway to your dates crotch under the table.

“Table twelve seems familiar” he mutters to his general manager.

“Ahh, he was with a different girl. Excellent tip” His GM responds and Rio takes another look locating the ring set on your left hand. You were the wife.

“Decline all his reservations moving forward. I don’t care how well he tips. Only friends should be here that often.” Rio says watching closely. He had his principles in business and in life. There were simply some things men didn't do. Bringing their girlfriends to the city's best restaurants before their wives was top of mind. 

“Done” the GM says as Rio makes his way into the back to look at the accounting. Everything needed to be in perfect working order for things to work. The restaurant would be a stepping stone to more. Food had never been a passion of his but he could sell an experience to people who wanted to pretend for a few hours. Besides, it had cost him virtually nothing and turned a huge profit every week. He steps out tucking his weekly take home pay behind the bar, walking around it to be served a drink. You're in his perfect line of sight. He watches you reach for your husband as he gets up, throwing cash down onto the table and kissing you goodbye. He watches you sigh and watch as he leaves. Shaking his head he turns back to his glass. 

“Hey can you give the waiter this. I was sitting over there” Rio hears turning to you.

Fuck, shes bad.

His thoughts run the gamut as he looks you over. Thinking back to the other woman he rakes through his memory for her. She had nothing on you besides maybe being slightly younger.

“Thank you” hears cluing back into the conversation you're having with his bartender.

“I’ll have the third course brought to the bar” the bartender says with a smile. 

“Perfect” you nod, sending him a smile.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Rio asks, looking you over. Turning, you are startled by a second by the handsome stranger wildly underdressed for the establishment.

“My husband took care of it thanks” you smile, making him do the same. He’s handsome.

“My husband took care of it” He mocks, chuckling to himself more amused than anything else. “Where is he?” Rio says bringing a glass to his lips.

“Something came up at work” you respond.

She believes the lie too. Rio smiles to himself looking up at the clock, “What, does he deliver babies? Is the hospital short staffed?” 

“No, he’s a consultant with a global clientele. You know time zones” you explain.

“Time Zones couldn't keep me off my wife on a Friday night if she looked like you.” Rio comments. Your cheeks burn at the forward implications just as the third course is placed in front of you.

“Compliments of the chef,” the server smiles.

“Thanks” you smile. It looks great. 

“Is it good?” Rio asks after a few minutes.

“Mhm” you nod weary of the flirtatious stranger. 

“Which time zone clients do I have to thank for this?” Rio asks, pointing between the two of you.

“Japan” you respond.

“To Japan” Rio raises a glass. “Rio, by the way,” he says, holding out a hand.

“Y/N” you respond, shaking his hand.

“Y/N you’re too trusting” Rio says stirring the pot.

“If you want to keep this pleasant please don't disrespect my marriage” you respond and Rio raises his hands.

“Boss, can I get you anything?” the GM says as he sees Rio at the bar.

“Good thanks,” Rio nods.

Looking at him suddenly his simple attire makes sense. Simple and all black was classic and understated in spite of the black tie dress code. Clearly no one was sending him home and the restaurant's food was never on delivery menus. Owner. Not a service professional. You nod to yourself impressed with his accomplishment. 

“You own this place?” you ask and he nods reluctantly.

“A few more lowkey spots around the city as well”

You offer cordial conversation.“Congrats, the food is good and it was hell to get reservations”

“Not for Y/N, not anymore.” he smirks and you shake your head. Rio laughs a little, he can't remember the last time he had to try so hard. Clearly you’d signed up for a lifetime of attention and here he was taking up for your husband's shortcomings.

“How kind” your tone is laced with sarcasm.

“I’m not kind, when you realise your man ain't shit you should eat good and stay fine. Do it here where I can see it. If you need to hire someone to beat his ass on your behalf come see me and I got you. I know people.” he says so cavalier it's off putting. There’s no more smirk and you feel slightly queasy in your stomach.

“That’s not funny” you frown.

“I don’t think so either but there’s a very short list of things that could make me leave you at the table. Work isn't one of them, Love” he mutters. Deep down you know he’s right. Something isn't right with your husband James. Recently work has taken precedent. His promotion has been taking all of his attention leaving very little to you. To make matters worse you moved here away from your family, friends and support system to be his. He’d been reluctant to have you move and has put very little time into helping you adjust to the move along with spending quality time. Work has affected all facets of your life including his libido. It was why Rio was practically foaming at the mouth with dilated pupils at the sight of you. It was a three hour process and special creation to set the mood for the night but James hadn’t reacted how you wanted him to. Japan had been at the forefront of his mind. He’d checked his phone more times than you found necessary before getting a call. He spent five minutes in the washroom before coming back and telling you he needed to rush to the office. Reaching forward you wave for the bartender.

“I've lost my appetite. Please thank the waiter” you smile standing from the bar stool. He nods and Rio rises at the same time. His hands go into his pockets following you out as all the staff bid the ‘boss’ goodbye. You hand the valet your ticket first and yet somehow Rio’s G-Wagon appears before your car. He smirks, having made an impression. When your car rolls around Rio gets the door after the valet gets out.

“I’m at the Clique most weekends. Sevens bar during the week, in case you need a man handled. Drive safe, Love” he says once you're in the driver's seat and buckled in. You wonder why you havent told him to fuck off yet until you see an eerie honesty in his eyes.

Your drive home is in complete silence with the exception of your signals and the natural sounds of the road. You feel too unsettled to relax. Once in your house you have to stop yourself from walking a track across your living room rug. You take a bath which does not work to settle your nerves. You brew valerian root tea when all else fails and there is still no peace. You lay in your marital bed tossing and turning until you hear the garage. It’s after three in the morning. You contemplate your options and hear James coming up the stairs ten minutes later. You slow your breath and close your eyes pretending to be asleep. The door opens and he enters walking straight into the ensuite bathroom. Silent tears roll down your eyes. He gets in bed without giving you any affection allowing your mind to run wild. Your alarm wakes you at 7am and you head downstairs to prepare his breakfast for his day ahead. Saturday mornings and afternoons are for golf and client relations. You throw something together quickly and head upstairs to find him in the shower. You spot his phones on the nightstand and grab his personal device.

You try a few passcodes when his work phone starts buzzing. Forfeiting his personal device something drives you to check his work phone. You unlock the phone from memory and scroll through his messages. There are client names you recognize, all with flags attached to them. A message from Japan comes in and you open it only for your stomach to fall.

You scroll for what feels like forever screen recording quickly as you make it up to three weeks. Heartbroken you airdrop yourself the evidence before breaking into his personal phone with new conviction. You nearly drop it when you see nudes and explicit messages. Your hand is trembling as you hear the water stop. You delete your screen recordings from the work phone, locking both devices and laying them as they were. Your hearts in your ass, your eyes stinging as tears threaten to fall. You walk into your office screaming into a pillow. Unable to act like all is well you stay put in there. James shouts you a goodbye before leaving. You pull up the security footage and scroll as far back as you can see. Your only consolation is he hasnt brought the whore back to your home. Still, it doesn't erase the intimacy of the messages. It doesn't erase the deceit and callousness of his lies and actions. It doesn't erase your heartache or the fact that he’s been lying heartlessly for months. Doesn’t negate the truth of his libido being well and intact, not for you but for her.

You sit for hours in a daze ignoring your daily routine before deciding to head to the spa. Heading upstairs you take off your rings, unable to wear the gifts from such a low down asshole. A manicure, pedicure, sauna and a full body massage doesnt bring you any reprieve. You still feel terrible as clarity dawns. You get the full picture of his betrayal. The pain is too much. Eight years together, five married and this is what it's come to. The visual of his mistress pleasuring herself is etched into your mind, along with the messages between them. Worst of all was the most recent. The mistress thanking your husband for blowing you off to care for her needs. Sitting in the lot of the spa after hours you punch the steering wheel before leaning into it and honking until you’ve stopped screaming. 

Anger wins. Visualising James in the hospital brings you more peace than everything else you've tried. Looking in his eyes pretending to be shocked and concerned while being the root of his current predicament is the kind of sweet karma that allows you to exhale for the first time in hours. Hospital visits because you got him fucked up for his indiscretion. After years of being whatever he wanted whenever. Without even a heads up or him expressing any discontent. Blindly trusting him when he’s been in another relationship. Bystanders look in shock as you pull out of the lot burning rubber with one destination in mind.

Club Clique, to see a man named Rio. 

Author's Note: thanks for reading, this one will be a little fast paced and unhinged. Very toxic because from what I can see that's what you all enjoy most. Rio being messy was my favourite part! Like, Comment, Reblog and interact with the poll.

NEXT CHAPTER

All my love,

xoxo

[industrations]

one thing about your art which makes me uncomfortable is you make remus conventionally attractive. the fandom all agree remus lupin is a wet noodle of a man but actually no artist draws him that and it's getting weird. make him unattractive and he can be loved by sirius. he doesn't need to be that tall and buff like why do you always make him so tall to draw him next to sirius. is it because you're aware of the fact sirius is canonically tall? if so it's baffling indi, you just had the surgery but if you have some time you'd want to read it - www.tumblr.com/carlav-blogs/741256502359228416/i-hate-joining-the-fandom-discourse-because-i?source=share - and look deep inside of yourself and think again about your art. i know you can't publish it but i gotcha. good luck /gen

Hello!

I have been thinking about responding to this at all but it seems like i have a lot to say, so here goes.

Due to contrary belief i draw for myself. I draw for me because i enjoy it and it makes me happy. And if it makes others happy then thats a lovely bonus. I draw because i love the bit of magic and creative freedom of being able to put that on paper.

What i don’t do is draw for other people to give me validation or to give them satisfaction. What’s getting weird is that you are so upset over characters that are written by a terf. Someone that is extremely harmful. Characters that DO NOT EXIST.

I’m sick of this endless debate of "oh but CANONICALLY sirius was taller" who the fuck cares. In the movies remus had like a whole head on sirius.

You know whats the one wonderful thing about this fandom? Every single artists and writers version of these characters. They take them and make them their own. I love the way i can read 10 wolfstar fics and all ten of them are wildly different versions of them. They fall in love with each other unconditionally and i with them.

I’ve been told I’m not valid, that i don’t deserve to exist, that i should have DIED in surgery. There is really vile and hateful people in this fandom but you know what. I’m not here for you, my art isn’t for you it’s for ME.

I would like to say I resent this fandom but it’s brought me so much joy as well. I’ve met some of the most talented and wonderful people. I met my very best friend because of this fandom. I traveled places to see people i love because of dead gay wizards. I have found a place that is so wonderfully accepting. A queer community that I will never have in real life. The amount of freedom and expression is something that drew me in and will make me stay.

I hope you get the day you deserve, and I will continue my life where I live it for me and no one else <3

[puppyplayhouse]

Thinking about stressed owner Chan~

Warnings: cnc (but not really), rough sex, choking, hair pulling, degradation, praise.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐩་༘࿐

He's usually so nice and patient with his precious little puppy, but today was just different. He'd been running around all day listening to people talk at him, and the second he walked through the door, you wanted to share all the details of your new fixation.

It's not that he didn't love to hear you talk. He was just so pent up that he couldn't help but grip your throat carefully, right underneath your chin so that he could tilt your head up and have your pretty little eyes locked with his own.

One warning squeeze followed by "I need you to shut up for a little bit, okay?" In your favourite darkened tone, your always careful lover waiting patiently for you to nod your consent before he firmly grips your shoulder, spinning you around to face away from him and shoving you toward the couch. He likes the way you stumble a little, only standing beside it, forcing him to shove you over the arm of the thing as he roughly tugs your bottoms down, a quiet tearing sound sending a course of excitement and fear through you.

You know your safe word. Of course you do. But you know he'd never push you to your limits to begin with. He's done this a hundred times, and you're happy for him to take out his frustration on you.

He'll shove your face into a cushion as his fingers dip into you, a pleased groan filling the room as your dripping juices coat his fingers which are quickly removed in favour of a stinging slap to your cunt that leaves you flushed from the shamefully wet connection.

There's no need to ease into it. You're well acquainted with his size and he slips.in easily, immediately setting a harsh rhythm that has you whining and panting like a desperate bitch, his right hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair as the other kneads at your ass, his focus centred on the view of your cunt sucking him in, keeping him fit snuggle inside of you.

"That's it. That's my horny mutt." He'd pull you up so that your back is flush with his chest, sliding his forearm in front of your neck in a lazy headlock. "Takin' this dick so well, hm? Filthy little bitch. You just sit here and think about being filled with my cock all day, don't you?"

Of course, you don't respond. You just nod wildly and gasp for air, completely helpless and at his mercy.

"Fuck, you feel so good puppy. Pretty cunt was made for me. Maybe we need to show people how much it loves this dick."

He says it to taunt you, and he can feel your walls pulse in response, his lips finding your neck to suck at the skin and leaving blooming purple bruises in their wake.

He'd pull out before he came because he wants to stay worked up so he can keep fucking you all night, always when it's inconvenient for you. He smacks your ass and pulls your bottoms up and asks you what you want as if nothing happened at all and that's the last you'd hear of it until he's shoving you done against the kitchen counter while you're both cooking and pounding into you like his life depends on it!

[gamesindustrynormal]

I don't know how common this is among trans people, but for many years I spent a lot of time looking for signs that I was not, in fact, trans. And frankly, they are not hard to find. I suspect even most cis people would doubt their gender identity if they had reason to look.

It's the obvious things. The biological differences, the societal pressure to conform. The various alternatives thrown at us - you just have masculine/feminine interests, that doesn't have to mean anything. You're just interested in a surface-level presentation. You're just a pervert. You're just trying to escape responsibility/gain privilege. We really should be dismantling gender roles altogether rather than moving between them. So many excuses for why what we're feeling doesn't mean what we think it means.

But it's also subtle, well-meaning things that get twisted by self-loathing. A trans person telling anecdotes of gendered experiences in their childhood and sure you found a lot of similarities to your own life, but also things that you could not relate to. Their description of dysphoria involves panic attacks and anxiety, but what you are feeling is more akin to a constant sense of hopelessness. They talk about benevolent friends seeing them for who they are and helping them come to terms with it, and no-one has ever seen that in you. At least not exactly like that.

Surely if your experience is so different you can't be trans. It's one of the other things.

And the more trans people I talk to, the more I understand that where we are coming from, what is important to us and where we are going is wildly different. Even for people who want nothing more than to pass as cis the ways in which they realized this and the journey they are taking there has a lot of variance. There's a reason good therapy focuses on what, specifically, would make you happier rather than how many trans boxes you check.

So I think it is fair to want to shy away from responding to gender-nonconformity as a joke but rather take it as a serious expression of identity and be curious about that. I think for someone who is just doing it as an act they will be quick to point that out. But responding with insincerity to a trans person taking their first trembling steps into finding their true selves just adds to the mountain of small excuses keeping them from happiness.

[mistydeyes]

miss americana: ghost edition

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series summary: The 141 has varying thoughts about Americans which range from finding them wildly entertaining to thinking they’re the worst people on earth. However you challenge their perspectives when you meet them. Something about you makes them feel a little more patriotic ;)

read gaz's edition here!

summary: Living in the UK has been quite a transition for you and there's a few things Simon doesn't mind pointing out (or making fun of you for)

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x American!reader

warnings: swearing

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the way you make tea is CRIMINAL to him.

“What are you doing?” Simon asked, startling you and causing you to lightly tip over your mug of lukewarm water. “Jesus, Simon,” you gasped, “I’m making some tea.” He did a double take as he examined the mug in your hand and the partially opened microwave.“You have the microwave open?” “Yeah to heat the water,” you responded as if he was asking a rudimentary question. At that moment, Simon could’ve had a heart attack. He quickly went over to you and dumped the water into a stovetop kettle. You crossed your arms over your chest, wondering what had gotten into your boyfriend. To your curiosity, you watched as he heated it until the kettle whistled. He poured it gently into your mug and placed a tea bag in it. “Here,” he said as he handed it to you, “that’s how you make tea.” “I don’t see the difference,” you mumbled before gingerly sipping on your tea and giving him a quick kiss.

He entertains the amazement you have when you see something that you swore was only distinctly “American.”

“You have hot dogs here?” you practically shouted seeing a stand with your favorite mystery meat. He looked at you bewildered as you stopped to stare at the stand. It was autumn and the leaves colorful leaves lay perfectly around the stand. "It's beautiful," you whispered as the sunset illuminated the bright red hotdog meat on the plastic sign. "It's a hot dog stand." Simon replied flatly, "You make it seem like it's the second coming or something." You shot a look back at him as your stomach slightly grumbled. Before you could say anything, Simon pulled you along with your hand firmly placed in his. "We're having dinner at Price's," he reminded as you pouted at his brisk pace. "But Simon," you began to plead before he cut you off. "It's the same thing you get back into America," he informed and you nodded at the commonality of the stand, "probably a little better though."

When you’re in public, he’ll be sure to let you know if you’re talking too loud.

"AND THEN" you practically yelled as you walked around the grocer's. Simon gave a death glare to the stares that met your loud mouth. "Mind just lowering your voice a little, love?" he asked politely as he continued to push the cart down the aisles. "Sorry," you sheepishly replied, "just used to everyone being deaf back at home." You sighed, missing the loud, noisy streets of your hometown and the boisterous laughter and comments from your friends. You just naturally spoke in a louder tone to compensate for it. "It's alright," he comforted, "people here can barely speak over a whisper." You shared a laugh as you continued your conversation without care. You could feel your homesickness temporarily wash away in the moment. It also helped that Simon met any judgmental eyes with a look of absolute menace. 

You initially thought him not smiling was only a characteristic distinct to him but you soon caught on to the British way of melancholy or blank stares.

"Why does everyone look so sad here?" you whispered to him as you sat on the tube. After a casual dinner, you looked around to see the other passengers silently looking at their phones or out the window. "It's like everyone has a perpetual frown on their face," you continued as you looked up at him. "Just the way people are," he replied in an attempt to answer your question, "you all are so smiley in the US." You looked at him shocked and put a dramatic hand to your heart. "Not my fault we're just so friendly," you mumbled as he pulled you back into his side. You continued to sit in silence as the train car screeched along the tracks and the train car began to empty. With a handful of stops left, you felt the need to continue the conversation. "You know, I thought it was just you, but I guess it's just a UK thing," you joked before returning to look back at your phone. As you sat there in silence, Simon couldn't help but love the little things you said that always kept him wondering.

Simon will never understand the beauty that is a bacon, egg, and cheese on an everything bagel from a New York bodega after a night of drinking.

"Good morning," Simon smiled, slightly more chipper than usual. You looked back at him as he tussled his messy bedhead. You had gone out for a rare night of drinking with his team and it was clear that someone was feeling a little hungover at the moment. "What are you making?" he asked as he poured you both a cold glass of water. You smiled as you turned around with your masterpiece on a plate. "I made something special," you giddily answered as you pushed it towards him, "this is a New York specialty." As he placed the sandwich in his mouth, you continued. "Here we have expertly prepared strips of bacon, two eggs, and sliced, American cheese of the finest quality. Everything has been cooked to optimal temperature to burst in your mouth and it all lies on a bed of a perfectly toasted, everything bagel," you presented as you smelt the delicacy of your creation in the air. "It's a sandwich," he replied as he swallowed and you rolled your eyes. "It's not just any sandwich, Simon," you corrected, "it is essential to the morning after drinking." He nodded unimpressed as he continued to munch on his breakfast sandwich. "If you don't want it though, I can always take it," you began to say but you were met with his hands snatching it off the plate. "Mhmm that's what I thought big man." 

Despite always correcting you, he smiles a bit at your little phrases and terms.

On a slow morning, you walked over to the couch and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. "Got any plans today?” you asked and he let out a small grunt in response. “I’m thinking we go to the movies,” you suggested. “You mean the cinema?” he cheekily asked and you rolled your eyes. “Whatever, let’s get dressed.” When you arrived, you walked with Simon and saw the growing line to enter the theater. “C’mon babe, let’s wait in line,” you said, walking towards the back and you failed to see his shit-eating grin. “It’s the queue,” he joked, clear sarcasm in his voice and you groaned at his antics. 

Finally, the last straw was when you exited the movie and you wanted to relax at home with a good glass of wine. You put up with the teller, sweets, loo, and chips but you drew the line when it came to the next term. Simon’s arm was slung on your shoulder as you discussed the film when you remembered the lack of alcohol at home. “Si, can we stop at the liquor store?” you asked, innocently and you could see a signature smirk flash across his face. “You mean the off-license?” he replied and you lost it. “Oh shut up or I won’t have my parents ship those Costco jeans you love so much!” you replied and his snarky comments silenced. You knew how much he loved those bargain pants that were surprisingly sturdy. He nodded in response before placing a kiss on your angry forehead. “You’re a shithead,” you exclaimed and before he could interject with another term, you put up your hand to silence him, “not another word, London boy.” God, how Simon wanted to correct you and say he was from Manchester.

[miasmaghoul]

i know we've seen minute man dew on here before. how does he react to swiss being as rough as he was tonight

Dew knows something's coming.

Swiss has only been getting worse as the tour goes on, and he's learned to anticipate the other ghoul's ferality. It took Swiss sneaking onto his platform and sinking his teeth into his shoulder to really drive that point home, but Dew knows what to expect now. Knows that he needs to be hypervigilant when the stage lights go blue, when first notes of Watcher in the Sky ring out and the crowd starts to shriek.

He knows something's coming, and Dew tries his best not to tense up when Swiss' heavy bootfalls shake his platform. His fingers don't so much as falter on his strings when that broad body molds itself to his back, the wail of his guitar not quite enough to drown out the way Swiss pants wildly in his ear.

He knows something's coming, but he's still somehow unprepared for the large hand that sneaks behind his guitar. His foot goes heavy on his pedal as Swiss gropes at him, a harsh inhale sucking the already damp fabric of his balaclava into his mouth.

Swiss' other hand digs into his hip and Dew spits a curse that no one but he can hear. Swiss snarls in his ear, a possessive, predatory sound that does absolutely nothing to help the immediate tingle that's settling between his legs. Dew burns with it, thrown into immediate flashbacks of that moment on the last leg of the tour. Of Swiss sneaking up behind him and grabbing at his crotch in front of thousands, rubbing a nipple through his uniform and snickering in his ear.

This is so, so much worse.

Dew bites the inside of his cheek, palms sweatier than usual, cheeks so hot behind his mask. He can just barely see Swiss' hand curl into a tight fist behind his guitar, knuckles pressed to Dew's zipper. Swiss mimes a stroking motion that only Dew can see, and he's helpless to do anything but lean back against the solid chest behind him.

What a mistake that is.

He hears the crowd scream in a very distant way, playing purely off of muscle memory while he stares down at Swiss' hand. He knows he's swelling up already, always embarrassingly quick to react to even the slightest stimulation. Swiss fist drags over his pants just enough to feel, and every pass sends a shock through him that pools deep in his gut.

Swiss grinds against him, a firm roll of his hips, and Dew knows he can't watch anymore. Not if he wants to keep his pants unmessed.

Swiss' teeth dig into his shoulder and Dew does the only thing he can think of - grabs his whammy bar and pulls. Lifts his guitar by it, a violent tug that he does every night but has wildly different connotations tonight. Swiss, of course, responds in kind. Screeches in his ear and ruts against his ass. Dew can't help the way his head jerks when he feels Swiss's hand speed up, a familiar motion that goes straight to Dew's rapidly stiffening cock.

It pulses, sits hot against his thigh, and Dew's shoulders roll forward as he drops his guitar back down. For a split second he thinks Swiss isn't going to stop. The thought hits like a punch to the gut, images slamming through his mind of Swiss working him over right here on stage. Fondling him through his pants until he's soaking a wet spot into them for everyone to see. They're all screaming already, and the sudden knot of worry in his gut grows at the thought of how much louder the crowd would get if Swiss chose not to show mercy.

Another, sharper bite to his shoulder has him hissing, and with a firm slap to his ass Swiss is gone. Sauntering back to his own platform with his usual swagger while Dew's head spins. While his cock throbs against his zipper. The whole event only lasted a handful of seconds, something that certainly shouldn't have him so worked up that he leaks into his tight briefs.

And yet.

Worse still, he stays that way for the rest of the show. Has to sneak adjustments between songs, has to hold his guitar close to his body and give it a little hump every now and then. Just enough to take the edge off. He spends entirely too much time on Swiss' side of the stage, earns questioning looks from Rain and Aeon, but Dew couldn't care less. Not when all he can think about is Swiss getting hands on him for real.

The remaining songs pass in a blur, and Dew cannot take his eyes off of Swiss as they trundle backstage before the encore. His fingers won't stop twitching, every inch of him drenched in sweat and his slight chest heaving. Swiss smiles at him with every tooth in his head, gives him a little finger wave, and Dew can't help himself.

He grips the other ghoul by the ascot and yanks like Swiss is a disobedient dog, drags him bodily behind a pair of equipment cases. Swiss is still grinning when Dew shoves him against them, a sweaty hand wrapped around Swiss' throat.

"You motherfucker," he spits, raspy and tight but muffled by his balaclava. "Why the fuck -"

"Bet I can finish you off before we go back on," Swiss interrupts with a wink, reaching out to rub him through his pants. Dew's eyes go wide at the suggestion, and his stomach does a somersault. "C'mon, lemme make a mess outta you."

Swiss squeezes, and Dew's eyes roll back in his head. It's an insane thought. He knows it is. They have less than two minutes before they have to go back on. It's a ridiculous suggestion. Something he shouldn't even consider.

"Do it," he bites out, rocking against Swiss' palm. "Fuckin' make me."

Swiss snickers, tongue flicking over his teeth, but he listens. Wastes no time in tugging Dew's zipper down and pulling him out, in wrapping talented fingers around his slippery length and thumbing over the tip without hesitation. Dew grunts with it, lets his head thump onto Swiss's shoulder while the other ghoul twists his wrist.

"Oh shit," he huffs, little hips twitching in seconds. "Shit, fuck, don't stop, keep - yeah, like that, like that, oh -"

"Better make it quick," Swiss murmurs, entirely too amused. "Sounds like Papa's almost done."

The reminder really isnt necessary. They both know he's not going to last - he's hot all over already, pulsing and leaking over Swiss' thick fingers. Too worked up too care and too sensitive to fight it.

Swiss rubs at his frenulum, his other hand coming up to rub a nipple through his vest, and Dew chokes as memories of the last time Swiss touched him like that slam through his mind. Memories of countless eyes boring into him, of the shriek of a thousand humans bearing witness to him being groped. He pants into Swiss' throat, loud and labored, and Swiss laughs.

"You're thinkin' about them watching, aren't you?"

Dew gurgles as his hips stutter, the hand on Swiss's throat moving to his chest. An effort to keep himself upright while Swiss invades his mind.

"Wishin' we were still out there, wishin' I could milk it outta you under those bright lights?"

Dew shakes his head, tries to spit words of denial, but all that comes out is a harsh whine. Swiss chuckles again, and his grip changes. Closes around his slick tip and works him hard and fast, just the way he'd mimed on stage earlier. Dew grunts, drools into his balaclava as his knees start to shake. The hand on his chest gives him a nice gripe, and Dew feels his balls draw up.

"Make sure alllll those people saw you cream yourself?"

Swiss gives him one last pull, and Dew groans long and low as he does just that. Pulsing in the tight circle of Swiss' fist, knees wobbling as his cock spills his load over those talented fingers. It dribbles down between them, landing in what little space there is between their boots. Swiss coos in his ear while Dew catches his breath, and as a fresh wave of sweat soaks into his compression shirt Dew shivers.

It's all over just as quickly as it started, their Papa's voice fading back into his consciousness as his orgasmic haze dissipates. He's still teasing the crowd about them being done, about to announce the last three songs, and Dew feels himself flush darker than ever. How long had he lasted? Maybe a minute? He doesn't want to think about it. Instead he steps back, shaking out his arms and tucking himself away while he watches Swiss hold up his messy hand.

"Told ya so," he taunts, wiggling his fingers, and Dew rolls his eyes.

"Shut up," he gripes, zipping up and straightening his vest. The crowd's cheers pick up and Dew bounces on the balls of his feet. "You can be a jackass later, we're up again."

"Hang on," Swiss lilts, pushing himself off the cases and closes the short distance between them. "I still gotta clean up."

Dew raises an eyebrow behind his mask, and before he can do anything else Swiss is pulling down his balaclava.

"Swiss, what -"

Swiss leans in and pecks him on the mouth, and then the other ghoul is stretching it just enough to wipe his sticky fingers off on the inside of it. Right over the drool-soaked portion that they both know will sit right over Dew's mouth. He offers a positively vulpine smile as he tugs the thing back up, and Dew sputters.

"Now we can go," Swiss tells him, grabbing Dew by the elbow and bullying him back towards the others before he can argue. He opens his mouth to try, and all it does is make him taste himself. Fills his nose and mouth with salt and sex, and every bit of it goes right to his spent cock.

"You motherfucker," Dew says again, and Swiss gives his ass another smack.

"Don't be too greedy, firecracker," he murmurs as they move to join the others, "I wanna taste that on you tonight."

[pparadiselost]

radial.

kageyama tobio x fem reader tobio is fascinated by your hands and wrists. warning(s): nsfw, slight yandere kageyama, size kink, bruising mention

kageyama never thought about what he looked like until his professional career started. it wasn’t until his teammates started teasing him about the fans who started paying attention to him because of his appearance, and it really never cemented anything important into his volleyball-obsessed mind until kuroo had brought it up. 

he had only responded with a calm statement that he was aware that his fans found him hot. it wasn’t meant to be smug or conceited, but it did make him a bit more cognizant about appearances. not just his, but yours as well.

specifically, the differences between your body and his. he was used to being surrounded by big burly athletes on the regular that coming home to someone like you has made him take note a bit more of the small things. like how much softer your body feels when he holds you as you sleep, or even the way your eyes crinkle up as you smile at him before he leaves for work, his cheeks still tingling from where you kissed him goodbye.

but there’s something else about you that kageyama’s noticed thoroughly. something so trivial and everyday that it’s almost weird to him that the thought has lodged itself so deep inside his mind.

it’s your hands. 

he loves thinking about them in contrast to his. he’s never thought about his hands either, at least outside of his professional needs, too much. they’re his lifeline; without them, he could never dream of playing volleyball. he takes care of his hands as needed: he massages them, stretches them, and does everything his medical and managerial team tells him to do.

his palms are adorned with callouses, the layers of hardened skin and muscle built up over a lifetime of dedication to his sport. they’re nothing like the average layman’s hands, far more tattered, always rebuilt, constantly pushing further beyond what he thinks will be enough.

“t-tobio!” you sound so small, so weak to him. it drives kageyama wild. it awakens something primal in him, something that makes him want to rip you to shreds in every way possible. 

your thighs shake around his waist, your toes curling into his creaking mattress. his hips keep ramming into you, his cock thrusting wildly up into your drenched cunt. you don’t know how long he’s kept this brutal pace up—all you can make out is the wild look in his eyes and his sweat-drenched body, fucking into you as if he’s gone into heat.

“fuuuuuuck-,” his voice is low and drawn out, the guttural noise coming from somewhere deep in his throat. his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows thickly, and his shaking eyes are blown open wide as he drinks in the sight of you folded underneath him. 

your wrists are unbelievably smooth. he grips at them with one hand, easily pinning them over your head and pinning you down underneath him. his thumb runs over the soft flesh of your wrists, and his cock twitches dangerously inside you when he can feel the lively thrum of your veins underneath.

you wince when his grip on your wrists tighten. your stomach lurches and twists into knots as kageyama pounds into you, every inch of his swollen cock burying into your tight hole. “you’re being so rough…! so rough- you’re so deep inside me!”

“good,” he drawls. he draws his hips back and snaps them at a harsh angle. heat floods your heavy head, and it makes your back arch involuntarily. “i know you can take it. you’ve taken me like this before.”

kageyama thinks you look absolutely ravishing. your hands, your pretty wrists, are just so small when they’re held captive under his palm. your tits bounce every time he fucks his cock deep into you, and the knot that coils inside of his abs drives him insane. you’re just so pretty, and kageyama is obsessed with you. he knows he’s someone that enjoys a lot of international attention given his successful career, but when you’re thrown into the mix, he feels less like the handsome setter people know him to be and more like a hormonal teenage boy that’s popping a boner after looking at his class crush.

except this time, you’re actually folded underneath him, all for him to lavish his attention onto.

pleasure flashes behind your eyes, shooting straight to your brain. your legs are shaky and numb. the sheets underneath you are wet and damp, all thanks to kageyama holding you in this mating press position for what felt like eternity, fucking you over and over until both of your orgasms were making a mess. your thighs are sticky, the remnants of your own juices and spurts of his white cum staining your skin.

you can’t think past the overstimulation buzzing in your mind. there’s something mounting inside your guts, and it throbs. it has a pulse of its own, craving so much more of kageyama’s body. you want him to fill you up with more of his cum, to stuff your womb full, to have him break you body and soul, for him to indulge in that awful greedy part of him that can’t seem to get enough of you.

“tobio- tobio, please-,” you beg. you know how intense he can get, especially when he’s staring down at you more like prey than a human, and your pussy unconsciously clenches around him. he groans under his breath, but his gaze on you doesn’t waver. “it’s too much- you’re too much, tobio!”

“it’s your fault.” a line of sweat trickles down his face, and a bead of it dangles from the tip of his nose. you’re acutely aware of every muscle in his body: the edge of his pecs, his toned abs, the pretty v-lines on his stomach that lead you down into his long dick, ramming into you. every part of him was made to torture you lovingly like this, morphing you from his picture perfect girlfriend into a toy made to serve only his pleasure.

“ah-! haah- you’re going to kill me- please, ‘m gonna cum again! i can’t- i can’t cum anymore-,” you sob pathetically. you whimper and squirm to no avail as his hips keep grinding up against you. his length slides in and out of you with little resistance, your own wetness providing him the right amount of lubrication for kageyama to mold your hole into the perfect shape of his cock.

“it’s all your fault,” he repeats. he sounds downright animalistic and cold. “it’s all because of how pretty you are. walking around in shorts with your bare legs out, rubbing your eyes when you’re tired, flashing me your tits when you get out of the shower… it’s like you want me to fuck you.”

a strangled cry escapes you, and the sound goes straight to kageyama’s cock. your face twists in pleasure again, and kageyama’s determined to rip another orgasm straight from your cunt. the pressure around your wrist spikes, his nails digging into you. the flash of pain that shoots through your eyelids grounds you a little, but not before his obscene thrusts grow faster.

his other hand clutches the headboard, and your pussy throbs when you hear how forcefully the headboard crashes into the wall. kageyama’s being uncharacteristically rough with you, and the sound of the bed moving with his thrusts spins inside your head.

slam. 

“‘m gonna make you feel so good,” he mutters.

slam.

“you feel good, don’t you?” his knuckles whiten as he grips the headboard.

slam.

“‘m gonna make you cum. gonna use that pussy of yours and make myself cum too,” he pants. “that sounds good. i’m going to give you another creampie. fuck! fuuuuck-! you’re so fucking tight-” 

“tobio-,” you sound like a broken record, but you can only gasp out his name. your pussy keeps milking him, and just imagining kageyama forcing another round of his cum into you turns you on more than it should. “please, tobio- tobio- ah- ahh- hmnnh…! g-give it to me- i want you to give me another creampie…”

kageyama likes it. he likes hearing you moan out his name. he likes knowing that he’s the man on top of you, making sure that you know you belong to him. he also loves it when you beg for him to cum inside of you like that. his balls tighten dangerously at the thought of cumming inside your hole again. just thinking about you whimpering as he explodes inside of you or the way his semen might slowly drip out of your abused cunt is almost enough to make him bust right there and then.

he grits his teeth, and he barely holds himself back. he can’t, not yet. he’s going to make you cum first and only then will he let him lose complete control of himself.

the bottom of your palms and your delicate wrists keep rubbing against his bigger hands. you’re just so small compared to him, and your hands—your fucking hands! lust blinds kageyama momentarily. your hands are so tiny, so smooth, and they’re nothing like his. his are rough and hard and made to slam his opponents down to maintain his superiority, to establish his beloved throne as the unchallenged king of the court, and they’re exquisitely made to shove you underneath into perfect submission.

he wants to see your hands in every way that you can offer him. he needs to see your fingertips trickle down his chest and waist, feel you wrap your fingers around his hardening cock, hold your palms down as he fucks you over and over again. you’re his, all his, and he needs to just physically feel the way you give in to him. he’s always gripping onto your hands and wrists, either pinning you down or lovingly interlacing his fingers into yours as he has his way with you.

“okay,” he almost laughs. “yeah- i can do that- i’ll give you another creampie. i’ll give you as many fucking creampies as you want.”

you throw your head back, making a bunch of incoherent cries. your body shakes uncontrollably underneath kageyama, and your lower half aches from brutally taking him for so long. but when he’s being this possessive over you and making it clear that he won’t accept anything other than you taking all of his love, how could you not want to soak it all up? 

your horny mind can only think of one thing. all you can register and think of his dick pounding into you, fucking you, making you melt under his touch. no matter how much you squirm or arch your back against him, kageyama has you held down so firmly in place that you just have to take him.

“take it- take it!” he hisses through gritted teeth. “you’re not going anywhere. you’re not running away from me. you said you wanted it, so i’m going to give it to you. you’re mine- c’mon, be good for me…!”

red hot pleasure claws at your skin. it prickles and drips over you like molten metal, covering you from head to toe. your hands curl helplessly into fists, and the callouses on kageyama’s palms rub against your wrists.

“yes- please- i need more of you, tobio!” your begging is sweet to his ears. he wants to bottle it at all up and keep it forever. he could do the sleazy thing and record it for his own whims, but why do that when he can just fuck you and make you sound like this again? every bit of you is too much for his dense mind, and all he can register is how perfect you are in his eyes. he loves hearing you. swapping between your airy gasps and mewls of his name, he just wants to devour you whole. you have him entranced, and kageyama doesn’t ever want to escape.

your hips start moving in rhythm with him, and you clench your eyes shut. “cum in me, cum in me, please…! i don’t need anything else- need only you! i wanna cum- wanna cum with you- tobio, i can’t take it anymore…!”

some deep sadistic part of him enjoys hearing you this desperate for him. he’s sure it’s only a fraction of the madness he holds for you, but you’re getting a taste of it. kageyama’s never been too lucky in love ever since he was young, always being the selfish weirdo who only cared about volleyball, so when he fell for you, it was like he fell without even thinking about any of the consequences. why wouldn’t he give his everything to you wholeheartedly? in his mind, there was no room for regret, no need to look behind.

the headboard rattles violently against the walls, scraping and banging and slamming against it. if the neighbors are in, they definitely know what the two of you are up to. good. kageyama wants them to hear, wants someone else in the world to know that you belong to him. no one else could ravish you like this, make your body writhe and coil in pleasure like this, utterly entrance him like this.

he growls, “go ahead. cum for me."

his dick twitches and throbs like a second pulse deep inside your cunt, and the stretch your walls feel is nothing short of heavenly. he won’t quit barrelling into you, that awful competitive streak in him refusing to die out even during sex.

your eyes are glossing over. the pounding in your head refuses to abate, and you’re teetering dangerously on the edge. your boyfriend’s thrusts are more frantic, faster, cock slipping in and out of you fully as his tip bullies your abused insides.

“c-cumming…!” you can’t physically take anymore. the pleasure bleeds in between the liminal space of goodness and pain, of heaven and hell, leaving you shaking in its aftermath. you throw your head back, your spine arching like a cat. your chest collides with his, and you squirm violently, pressed down onto the mattress helplessly against his full weight. “i’m cumming! cumming, cumming, tobio! fuck- tobio- ah…!”

warmth shoots through you as if you’ve been dragged underwater. you can’t breathe, your windpipe frozen as pleasure overwhelms you. heat blooms inside your chest and spreads through you, like a poison paralyzing you within your own skin from inside out. your nerves can’t register anything else. all that’s on your mind is your boyfriend and how good he’s making you feel, the inches of his cock dragging painfully in and out of your clenching hole, fucking you violently through your orgasm. 

your insides clench up, coiling like a fear-stricken beast. your vision swims, and the edges grow hazy. tears gather in the corners of your eyes, clinging to your lashes as they threaten to fall over and onto your cheeks. kageyama gasps, the sight of you breaking down making him falter just a beat.

you mewl out, “tobio-! tobio, tobio, please- cumming feels so- soooo good…!”

kageyama flinches, and a high-strung hiss escapes his teeth. he squares his jaw as you flutter all around him, body going limp underneath him as your high overtakes you. the bed creaks as his hips grind up against you, and when you let out one final pathetic mewl of his name, he grips onto your wrists with a fervor you’ve never felt before.

you’re so small. so beautiful, so delicate, everything that he isn’t.

“fuck…!” 

kageyama comes with a strangled cry, the feeling of your smooth wrists underneath his pushing him over. he buries himself as far as he can into you. you cry out as spurts of hot cum invade your insides, stretching your walls out further as they struggle to take both his load and his cock buried inside you. it burns, but it feels good, like proof of you taking a physical part of his unconditional love.

his hips stutter, and he barely chokes back his moans. you’re squeezing him so tightly, milking every drop of cum out of his length. he wants to keep rutting against your cunt, rubbing every single inch of his needy cock against your insides until your hole is molded to the shape of his dick. 

his balls twitch against the curve of your ass, and you’re held down in place. his fingers curl into the headboard, steadying himself as he sucks in a shaky inhale. your mind feels foggy, and you can’t push yourself through the hazy fuzz that settles on you. maybe kageyama’s mind is a bit clearer, but you doubt it, not when he spent the past few minutes fucking into you as if he was going into heat.

“...did you take it all?” his voice is hushed, quiet, like a whisper in a holy place. because that’s what kageyama does: cherish you until the end. 

you nod weakly, your head heavy against the pillow. he grins down at you, practically glowing with a kind of possessive pride. you know that competitive streak in him all too well, and you know how insatiable he can get especially when you’re involved. you’re his, and he wants to devour whatever love you hold in your heart for him over and over again. if it weren’t so reverent, it would be almost dangerous.

he stays firmly planted inside of you, nearly crushing you underneath his weight as he lays on top of you. kageyama doesn’t want to pull out just yet, savoring the feeling of your bodies together as one. it’s warm, and it makes his chest feel tight, itching to feel more of your presence. but burying his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling your scent is enough for him, especially when he’s done such a thorough job of railing you.

it amazes him, the difference between your bodies and yet how well you’re made to fit him. like two puzzle pieces connecting, he’s sure you’re his soulmate. no one else can fit that mantle, none other than you.

you blink slowly, and his hands trickle back to yours again. this time, they trail past your wrists, and his fingers carefully intertwine with yours. his calloused palms brush against yours, lithe fingers caressing your smaller ones. 

he hopes your wrists are bruised because of him tomorrow. they're manifestations of his deeply driven devotion, after all.

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAY AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER FIVE

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @rosemariiaa @ohbueckers @makethemhoesmad @patscorner @tndaqlifwy @wbbgetsmewetter @xxloveralways14 @authentic-girl03

kalena speakss 🪽! ju and kennedy was threatening my life for this so HERE. take it! 🙄

June 2025 — Atlanta, Georgia 

It’s a couple hours after my show. I sat with my back against the counter of whatever bar Julian and a few of his friends dragged me out to.

The concert tonight was something I still haven’t fully processed. Even after having shows all over the country, performing in my hometown just hours ago was unreal.

The energy was indescribable. Loud would be the closest thing to label it. But after the event, a meet and greet, and an outfit change, I find myself under flashing lights and bass booming music.

I’m all by my lonesome at the bar, a lemon drop in my hands as my head slowly bops along with the trap music that fills my ears. Julian is somewhere across the floor with some friends from college, giving me a much needed break from him for the rest of the night.

He’s a different beast when he’s drunk. Not in a bad way, but just very loud or clingy, or touchy and after the long day I had, having his tall sweaty body over mine was only going to make me overstimulated.

I finish my drink and place the glass down on the counter, switching it out for ice cold water. It’s smooth and refreshing down my throat, a contrast to the warm atmosphere I’m seated in. 

The sound of another drink hitting the bar grabs my attention, I turn around and the nice bartender in front of me pushes a drink closer to me. She doesn’t speak, only tossing her head to the side. When I look over, there’s a certain blonde delivering a wide smile.

I nod in response before taking a sip of the drink. A Dirty Shirley, of course.

“Good to see you’re alive.” Paige jokes when I approach her. She wears black light wash jeans and a black graphic tee. Her stomach is tight, abs on display, arms tanned and wildly muscular, and it takes everything in me to not gawk over her body. 

She pats the stool to her left, signaling me to take a seat beside her. I fix my mini skirt before sitting on the stool, scooting it closer towards her. 

“Hey, P.” My voice fits together. It’s a weird feeling. I spent all week thinking about what I would do when I saw her again. Maybe give her a hug, or tell her that I did indeed miss her. But instead, I’m silent. My voice is scratchy and I feel so little under her gaze.

“It’s good to see you, angel.” Paige smiles at me, her fingers tapping along the spine of the beer bottle she drinks from. “See you got my drink.”

“I did.” I responded. “I’m not sure why you like this shit tho’. Too much vodka.” I grimace.

“What?”

“It’s strong as hell!”

“Oh please, I’ve seen you take casa straight.” She points out with a roll of her eyes. I don’t fight the grin that spreads onto my face mid conversation. It was things like this that I think I missed more than her look. The childish bickering that led to belly aching laughter. 

I’m about to speak up again, send a playful shot her way that shuts her up, when Julian saunters over. I don’t miss the slight tumble in his walk. He drapes an arm over my shoulder, standing right between Paige and myself as he tells the bartender to close out our tab.

His eyes travel to me first, but when he sees that I’m still attempting to look at Paige, he turns to face her too.

Julian gives her a nod. “You’re uh,” he takes a breath to search his brain cockily, I shoot him an unamused glance. “Paige right? Play for the Sparks?”

“That’s me.” She nods.

“I’ve heard a lot about you. This one doesn’t seem to shut up about you.”

Paige fights a smirk, and the only reason I can tell is because her eyes bounce from Julian, to the floor, then to myself, and then back to Julian. “Oh for real? Could say the same about you, man.” 

Just like that their exchange is over. Paige looks away and Julian looks down at me.

“The guys and I are heading to a different club. You comin’?”

I shake my head. “I was jus’ gonna get some food. I’m not really feelin’ it.” I tell him.

He shrugs passively, reaching over me to take his receipt from the bartender. “Sounds good to me.” Julian leans over, kissing my forehead quickly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

I can’t even fight the roll of my eyes this time. In the morning is crazy , I think to myself. 

“Uh oh. Trouble in Paradise?” Paige asks. Her face is genuine, but her tone of voice makes it obvious to me that she’s prodding. I want to smack that stupidly sexy smirk off her face.

“Shut up.”

“And you cringin’ when he kiss y—”

“Paige. Shut up.”

She does, throwing her hands up in defense. I watch intently as her lips wrap around the spout of the bottle, the way her head tosses back when she takes a swig and how her throat bobs as she swallows. I’m so fucked. 

“What are you doing in Atlanta anyways?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Game tomorrow. You comin?”

“You want me to?”

“I mean, I need you there. I went off last time you came.” Paige says. The manner with which she looks at me when we have a conversation is distracting. Her eyes glued on mine, a slight tilt of her head, and the occasional lick or bit of her lips. I’m trying really hard to keep my composure but it’s hard.

What am I even thinking? I have a boyfriend, whom I care for very much.

“You went off the other night in Chicago. Didn’t you have 30 or sum?” My hand fiddles with the straw in my nearly empty Shirley. For someone who thought it wasn’t all that good, I was definitely drowning it.

Paige laughs. “Aneesah and Angel blocked my shot like 5 times that game. And 7 kept picking my pocket.”

“You still played good, no?” I ask with a smile.

“Do you wanna come or not, angel?”

“Okay! I’ll go, I’ll go! I’m just sayin’ you don’t need me there. You’re on a tear this season anyway.” I turn away to fight the blush on my face. She’s such a flirt it’s unbelievable.

“Yeah? You been watching lil old me?”

“Oh fuck off.”

—

The coldness of the seat sent shivers through my spine, my short sleeve top not providing any type of warmth in the establishment. I can only imagine that Maraye’s skirt and tube top combo wasn’t helpful for her either. I toss her my gray zip up from my seat across from her.

After leaving the club, I made my way out to Waffle House, with Maraye obviously. It’s early in the morning, the clock on the wall reads 1:38am.

“Thanks.” She mumbles with a mouth full of hash browns as she takes my jacket.

“Mouth full is crazy.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Y’sure you won’t be cold?” I find it funny, because even as she asks, she’s throwing on the hoodie and zipping it up gratefully. I brush her off, ignoring the very obvious goosebumps on my skin and stabbing into my peanut butter waffle.

We were talking about her shows over the last few weeks. I always found the lifestyle she lived so interesting. Honestly, I thought of it as being much similar to my career, but playing in a court and performing her most vulnerable moments for people is not the same.

“I mean seeing people in the audience cry over the songs I sing is so surreal. Like tonight, I closed with Different Pages, and as soon as the instrumental cut on, I could see girls in the front just start crying and I’m like, they really fuck with me. Y’know?” Her eyes glaze over and I don’t miss it. I wouldn’t even dare tear my eyes away from her right now.

She looks gorgeous. Which is simply unbelievable because her hair is a bit tousled and her eyes dark with exhaustion. Yet, she’s the prettiest girl in the world to me right now. 

This entire situation is messy. For a multitude of reasons but the most obvious one being the six-foot-something curly headed boundary that is between us. I know better. I know that all me and Maraye have going for us is a friendship, that when she looks at me it’s just because she looks at all of her friends with that sort of eye contact. Or that when she begs me to come out to Waffle House with her at nearly two in the morning, it’s because we were already hanging out, and not because she wanted to have alone time with me. 

I know better.

Even then, all my better judgment is thrown out the window with her. She’s everything. The personality I’ve gotten to know belongs to someone that I so desperately need. 

I don’t even care about hurting Julian, oddly enough.

I drink from my glass of water before drawing myself back into conversation, I’d been quiet for a bit too long.

“You’re an amazing performer from what I saw. And the music connects to people. You shouldn’t be surprised.” I complement.

Her face contorts.

“You were at the show tonight? Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice raises as she drops her fork on her plate.

“You been ignoring me all week, Raye!” I laugh. I probably should’ve told her that I was coming, but after my calls and texts went unanswered I just stopped trying. “I called you tonight too. Shit when straight to voicemail.”

Maraye frowns at me, looking down at her plate before back up at me. “I’m sorry.” She apologizes, but what follows I don’t even expect. “I’ve been thinking so much about you and ju’ and— regardless, I shouldn’t have cut you out.”

“I missed you.” It falls from my lips before I can even register it. 

Maraye smiles that beautiful angelic smile of hers. She presses her elbows to the table, looking over at me with that goddess-like head tilt that turns my brain to mush.

“I missed you too, blondie.” 

It’s different. I’ve heard it from her over the phone, or from past girlfriends, old teammates, friends. But the way those three words— I missed you— hit my ears has me falling apart into a puddle of skin and bones in my seat. 

Her accent drives me crazy. It wraps her words in a certain comfort and familiarity that I could only ever feel from Maraye. It carries a gentle, melodic lilt that draws me into her, I’m damn near all up in her personal space from how deep she’s drawn me into her without even touching me.

Every simple phrase she says to me sounds like sweet poetry, and suddenly I’m understanding even more why her music makes people so emotional. Because the way she’s talking to me right now is making me feel things I don’t think I’ve ever felt for any girl in my whole life.

It’s fucking terrifying.

—

The end of the night approached much faster than I’d like to admit. Mostly because I had a great time with Paige and it was coming to an end. We made a quick detour to the 7/11 for slushee’s before getting in the uber again. We exited the car pretty quickly, arriving at The Westin Peachtree where we both, coincidentally, were staying at. 

Paige walks me all the way to my suite. It’s a little past 3am when I stand outside my door. 

I turn around to look up at her. Her hair is pulled out of her face now, a messy bun at the nape of her neck that gives me a perfect view of her clear and tanned skin.

“Thanks for keeping me company tonight.” I told her. My hands travel to the zipper of her hoodie, peeling it from my body. I don’t mean for it to look as sultry as it does, but that’s the message that it gives off because Paige’s eyes follow the whole way down.

“Y-yeah of course. I had a good time wit’ you, Raye.” She speaks. The stutter I pick up on is so slight, barely even there, but it’s enough to make me feel like I’m about to pass out.

I hand her the thick hoodie, thankful for the warmth it brought me for the last few hours. 

I find it so crazy that I could have so much fun doing nothing with a person I’ve known for barely even a month. We walked around for what felt like forever, just talking and picking each other’s brains apart. It was a feeling truly like no other. 

“So tomorrow right? I’ll see you tomorrow?” I ask. My bottom lip finds its way between my teeth as I nibble on it nervously. My stomach practically sits in my ass and I can’t pinpoint why, but suddenly I’m anxious. As hell. And it’s her, she makes me nervous in a way I’ve never experienced before— and I’ve been on stage in stadiums full of thousands of people.

There’s a sort of tension between the two of us. I’m grateful that the hallway is empty, because if people were walking around and saw us they would’ve for sure gotten the wrong idea.

Shockingly, I don’t even know if it would be the wrong idea. Because I want her.

Paige, the blonde woman that has maybe 4 inches over me, the blonde that I find myself looking for in every place I travel to, the blonde who looks at me right now with a different type of look in her eye that I can’t yet figure out. I want her.

“Yeah, angel. Of course.” She nods slowly at my question while taking a step closer to me. Her arms find a home around my waist and it is then when I’m hugging her that I realize it’s my first time feeling her touch all night.

Her body is so warm against me, her neck practically setting my forearms on fire.

She smells like strawberries, which I wouldn’t have expected from just looking at her tonight. I can feel every ridge of her muscles, I spread my palm over the ones on her back and her biceps press into my side from how she hugs me. I don’t pay too much attention to how her hand travels just a bit lower, inches away from the swell of my ass and I know I should push her further. Say that we’re toeing the line, that this is too much to just be a friendly hug, that it feels so damn intimate.

I don’t want to though.

That’s when I know I’m in too deep.

I pull back from her gently, but her hands still remain in their position. I place my hands on her shoulders, looking back into her eyes. The blue reminds me of fresh blueberries, they make me feel like I’m at home. The rims are a bit reddened, expected from how long we’ve been awake. Yet, I could stand like this for hours, just looking at her and those eyes. I swear I see the pupils get just a bit bigger, and I tear my eyes away from Paige before mine do the same.

I can feel that gaze still on me, but when I look back she’s dead set on my lips. 

In return I look at hers. They’re a perfect soft pink. Plump and nicely moisturized from the chapstick I caught her using earlier. I wonder what they taste like. If they mimic her strawberry scent or if they taste like the blue raspberry slurpee she downed. They could taste like nothing too, and I wouldn’t mind it. 

She’s suddenly pulling away from me with a step back, her arms falling from my hips. Paige clears her throat before digging her hands into the pockets of her jeans. 

“Tomorrow.” She confirms. “Get some sleep, aight?” The drawl of her voice is addicting, I could spend hours listening to her talk to me just so I could know how different words sound when they fall from her lips.

“Yeah you too, P.” I responded, turning my back to her to unlock the door to my hotel. I hear her footsteps retreating from me so I turn my head back. It was supposed to be brief, I swear it was. 

But then she’s looking back at me and I want to last forever. 

Just me and Paige looking at each other for as long as the universe allows us to.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I think I'll always be a little surprised that it's such a common headcanon that Ed and Izzy have had a romantic/sexual relationship in the past, or that Ed ever viewed Izzy as a potential romantic interest. For me, the way that Izzy manages to have this nearly parasocial relationship with someone he talks to every day and thinks of Ed in a sexual way, along with how Ed likely sees Izzy as a parallel to other cruel older men in his life, is what makes their relationship so fucking fascinating in the first place.

Izzy's attraction to Ed is just so clearly unreciprocated! I don't think Ed realized Izzy was attracted to him until s1e10, when Izzy strokes his face and looks down at his lips while threatening him, and he looks deeply uncomfortable and upset. When Izzy confesses his "love" in s2e1, saying "I have love for you," like it's a disease, like it's something shameful he possesses, Ed basically bluescreens. If someone responds to a love confession by saying "oh come onnnnn" I just don't think they feel the same way, man, sorry.

And I love how Izzy is paralleled to Ed's abusive father in the first season, in a similar way to how Hornigold shows how fucked up Ed's relationships with older men are in season 2. They all hurt people Ed cares about, and when Ed retaliates against controlling behavior, they frame his reaction as revealing an integral capacity for violence that's somehow unique to Ed, proof something is wrong with him. Ed's relationships with older men consistently re-traumatize him.

"I loved you, best I could," is such a juicy line, and I think it really shows Ed's headspace at that moment - he's just tried to get Izzy to kill him, basically saying "you told me I had to be Blackbeard or I was dead, and I can't do it, so you need to finish the job," and Izzy just mocked him for being too scared to kill himself directly. Ed was never, ever going to be able to meet Izzy's expectations for him.

The most interesting thing about Ed and Izzy's relationship is how they see each other so wildly differently, I think. Izzy sees Blackbeard as the ideal of piracy to the extent that he doesn't see Ed as a three-dimensional person, and Ed's projecting his daddy issues onto this mean White guy. They, fundamentally, do not understand each other. It's so fucked up and I love it so much.

[starlightsuffered]

Needy Boy Tries No Nut November (part 1)

Info - needy boy, no sex challenge, argument, teasing, attempted cock warming

“You,” I scoffed.

“Yes me,” he said stoically.

“The boy who came in me fives times on October thirty first is going to attempt No Nut November,” I said, crossing my arms.

“Me and my friends made a deal, I plan to stick with it,” he nodded.

“Do your friends know you?”

“I would hope my friends don’t know how often I enjoy cumming inside you,” he snapped. I could tell he was already regretting his decision.

“You didn’t happen to think to ask me if I was okay with going a month without sex?” I asked.

“You can still get off,” he shrugged.

“You won’t last,” I chuckled. “No way no how.”

“Yes I will!”

“No you won’t Timothée, you’ll be doing the walk of shame to your boys within the week, if not sooner,” I smirked.

“You’re so mean,” he pouted.

“Yeah, am I mean pretty boy?” I asked, running a hand down my body and lifting my skirt slightly to show off my lacy panties. He whimpered. I swung my leg over him and straddled his lap. I began to kiss him heatedly. He responded eagerly.

He was moaning into my mouth and I let him remove my shirt. He massaged my breasts overtop of my bra. I felt him grow hard underneath me and smirked, I knew it was time to pull back.

“Why, why, why d’you stop,” his words were slurred with lust.

“No Nut November Timothée,” I reminded him.

“Fuuuuuuuck!” He snapped.

Throughout the day I did little things I knew drove him crazy. I would put my boobs or ass in his face while getting something. I giggled a lot. I bit my lip. I was touchy with him. I even had a two fake phone conversations, one to talk about how I had to masturbate now because of Timothée’s decision, because he hated me masturbating. The second was about how much I loved his cock and cum and how big he was. Neither was too terribly odd me for, I was an open person so both phone calls were plausible.

Finally, night came and we slipped into bed. I snuggled back against Timothée and as I expected, he was incredibly hard. I reached back, pretending to need a blanket but I grabbed his full balls instead.

“Ohhh,” he moaned.

“Sorry, I mean to get the blanket,” I said and got it to add a layer of warmth. I nestled down, pretending I was trying to get comfortable, but really it was just so I could rub my ass on him. I heard a whine and smirked.

“Sorry baby and I bothering you?” I asked.

“C-could you face me?” He asked. I did as he asked and fluttered my eyelashes.

“Fuck, this is even worse,” he muttered to himself.

“Something the matter?” I asked innocently.

“Can I put my cock in you?” He asked.

“No Nut-“

“I won’t be cumming, just some comfort, quiting cold Turkey is hard,” he pouted.

“Sure Timmy, just don’t cum,” I reminded him. I hadn’t worn underwear out of habit. He nestled his cock inside me.

“Mmmmm, feels good, tight,” he said. I closed my eyes, and sighed happily. But then, thrust.

“Timothée,” I wanted.

“Just one thrust won’t hurt,” he said, but I caught him tugging on his heavy balls, trying to get some relief.

“Okay,” I said. Then he did it again.

“Timmy,” I giggled.

“Just, just, three more,” he begged, and thrusted three more times, his cock absolutely quivering inside me with need.

“Ohhhh, ho, ho, my baaaaaalls,” he wailed.

“Don’t worry baby, only twenty nine more days,” I said with mock comfort.

“Twenty nine,” he squeaked and then he was over me and fucking me harder than he ever had.

“Baby, your promise,” I reminded.

“M’not gonna cum, just need to feel good,” he whined. He was so fast and needy.

“So good, fucking love this cunt!” He gasped as he fucked into me wildly.

“Oh Timmy, you’re so hard, your big heavy balls are slapping me baby,” I heaved.

“Yeah they are, you love it when I fuck you don’t you?” He asked.

“I do, I love it!” I cried. “And I love your cum, wish you could fill me up.”

“Oh I wanna, need to empty my balls. Damn baby, did you do something different, you feel like heaven,” he whimpered.

“No Timmy just me,” I said, blushing at his compliment.

“Fucking love just you,” he said.

“Baby, you’re going crazy,” I said, watching his hips drilling into me wildly.

“Je pense que je pourrais mourir si je ne peux pas remplir cette chatte de sperme ! Putain de merde, putain j'en ai besoin, j'ai besoin de verser mon sperme en toi !"

I recognized some words that he normally said.

“You said you weren’t gonna cum baby,” I reminded him.

“Not gonna, just saying what I wish,” he choked out.

“I’m gonna stop,” he said and slowed down, but as he did he started going deeper, moving to an angle that felt particularly good.

“Timothée!” I cried sharply as his slow thrust hit me in a sweet spot. I came, arching and seeing stars as I whimpered his name.

“I’m not gonna, not gonna, oh fuck I’m going to! No, I’m-“ he cut himself off by unleashing a fountain of cum inside me.

“I didn’t mean it,” he whined as he filled me. Ten ropes of cum shot inside me as he panted. I moaned as I enjoyed the full feeling.

“You failed within twenty four hours,” I gloated.

“Oh shut up, I have my reasons,” he snapped.

“And they are?” I asked.

“One, I didn’t want to do it anyone, two, my friends don’t have access to your pussy, because they’d fail too, and three this is dumb,” he ended on a whine.

“Well to be fair I thought it was dumb too,” I said, gathering him in my arms.

“Good,” he said kissing my forehead. “Let’s go again, gotta make up for the day.”

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet t @vvsdreaming @lovelyrocker