#idk it mirrors how I feel when I can’t even talk to my grandma or great-grandma

[fairy-spring]

Sometimes I wonder if people would look at my interpretation of Gerudo lore and how I use it and my OC to explore my own feelings as diaspora and think I’m being racist

[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

Idk if you do one shots inspired in songs, but if so, Would you mind doing one with a Taylor Swift's song which is called "The 1"? With Mason Mount please

< i love taylor so much and i really hope i didn’t completely butcher this, but thanks for the challenge :) >

MASON MOUNT ONESHOT

the 1

( WARNING: little bit of angst and fluff?, swearing )

word count: 1.8k

Things don’t often go as we expect them to, and it’s often incredibly difficult to replan your life around that massive change and adapt your lifestyle so you can — in reality — live again.

It’s like trying to find your feet when you’re in the air — it feels impossible but you know with time you’ll eventually meet the ground again.

That’s what it felt like when you and Mason broke up four years ago.

You were fresh out of uni and at the time, you really thought he’d be it for you, and honestly, so did he. A break up thrown into the mix of having to navigate adult life just seemed to put a huge stopper on all your plans; the holiday you two had both booked for a weekend away in Ireland, the meals out with friends that you had to cancel, and the house showings you were set to attend.

Looking back on your relationship now, you realise it wouldn’t have been the worst thing to end up with Mason. All the years and effort and time put into loving him were — without a doubt — some of the best years of your life (at that stage in life), and did you regret it?

Not one single bit.

But four years is the perfect amount of time to heal, remove the salt from the wound and finish grieving.

But he was here. In real life.

You’d imagined running into him in the supermarket or on a night out with your friends, but a bus stop?

That one was weird. Mainly because you both hated catching the bus with a burning passion.

But it lead to a catch up over coffee.

It was a quiet place, out of the way of the usual lunchtime hustle and bustle in the city, and for that you were grateful. You could hear your own thoughts.

It was awkward at first, you couldn’t keep your eyes from fixating on his figure, his features, because four years can really change a person. He was much broader, his hair a little shorter, but he was still that same Mason you once loved.

You knew that because the first thing he did when he sat down was offer you that cheeky, charming smile that had you hooked from the second you met.

He’d asked how you were, and you answered honestly: you were living well, your best life, and to the fullest. And you knew and he knew that it wasn’t a lie.

He could tell by the smile on your face and the new, sparkling band on your wedding finger. He half expected that blow to sting a little — that you’d found someone and he hadn’t, but he was never one to be bitter whatsoever, at least, not when it came to you.

Instead, he offered his congratulations and the only inkling of regret he held was not being there when it happened.

I guess you never know, never know,

And if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed,

And if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow,

And it’s alright now.

There was silence after that.

You had one thing on your mind, and you knew by the way he was looking at you that he was also thinking the same thing.

You took a sip of your coffee.

He mirrored your actions, seemingly startled when you placed your mug onto your saucer, the chink of porcelain against porcelain echoing around the small shop cutting through the previous quietness.

“I think I hated you for a while.” You murmured, and if Mason wasn’t leant over the table slightly, he would’ve missed the statement completely.

He nodded in understanding, his brown eyes shining with the faintest hint of guilt.

“I think I was so frustrated with the idea that we just…didn’t work, and I blamed it on you.” You paused, fingers twisting your rings.

He paused, mulling over his words, “And now? Still hate me now?”

You bit back a small smile and met his eyes, “No…I think it’d take a whole load of bad shit to get me to hate you.”

He smiled.

“That’s good to know.”

“I mean, I think it was a long time coming anyway, that break up.”

“It didn’t feel right for a while.”

“No,” you agreed, “as much as it hurt to admit, I think we just failed…as a couple. There was a point where we were just together for the sake of not giving up on the relationship, but with no real reason to continue.”

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool,

And if my wishes came true,

It would've been you,

In my defense, I have none,

For never leaving well enough alone,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

He seemed to ponder over your words, and although he never voiced it, he came to the conclusion that you’d just put into words — perfectly — the itch that had been tickling his brain for the past few years.

“Despite that, you can’t deny that we weren’t something…” he started, before breaking off and shaking his head, as if the mere thought was ridiculous.

“We were something special. I think, had things stayed like they were in the beginning, that…you and I…” you waved your hand, tilting your head, and he nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Me too. I think…in another life we could have made each other happy. It would have been fun.”

The words ‘if you would’ve been the one’ echoed in your head, and despite the passive aggressiveness of your conscience, you found yourself holding back a smile.

“Water fights in winter and eggs with ketchup…perfect. I’d never have gotten tired of that.” You mused, and he spluttered slightly on his coffee, laughing along with you in what felt like a decade.

I have this dream you're doing cool shit,

Having adventures on your own,

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home,

We never painted by the numbers, baby,

But we were making it count,

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.

“Then again, who knows? Maybe you’ll fall over in the airport and some lucky person will help you off the floor—”

“You’re about to say something cheesy, aren’t you?” Mason covered his mouth, scrunching his nose in anticipation as you nodded.

“All this nostalgic bullshit has me emotional! I swear, just this once…just this once, and I promise you can laugh about it afterwards.” You swore, holding out your pinkie for confirmation.

He didn’t hesitate, and linked your pinkie.

“You’ll find someone else. It’ll be love at first sight—hey, let me have this moment…maybe love at second sight, knowing you… you’ll go to some really magical place and have the most amount of fun you’re ever gonna have…hikes, skydiving, looking after animals I’m sanctuaries…you’re gonna have the time of your life — like Grey and Swayze.” You sniggered, unable to hold in your laughs at the ridiculous scenarios.

Mason pulled a face, unable to hide a smile.

“Okay, okay. End of story: they’ll be perfect. The Chandler to your Monica or the Robin to your Ted. But, you understand what I’m talking about, right?” You asked, sighing out of frustration.

“You’re saying I’ll find my person.” He concluded, sitting back in his chair.

“Yeah.”

We were something, don't you think so?

Rosé flowing with your chosen family,

And it would've been sweet,

If it could've been me,

In my defense, I have none,

For digging up the grave another time,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

“Like…your grandma and grandad. I want what they have.” Mason smiled.

“They’ll be pleased to hear that,” you said, “I don’t think they’re quite over us yet. You were too…you at family meals. They fell in love with you too.”

This time Mason really laughed. Really laughed. He threw his head back and the people working at the counter turned to look at him, fighting their own smiles at his carefree nature.

What you’d said wasn’t even that funny.

“Too me? Thanks, I think?”

“Oh, that’s definitely a compliment. You’re too damn charming for your own good, it’s a problem. You should come with a warning label on your forehead: EASY TO LOVE.”

“That’ll solve a lot of problems.”

There was silence.

It was relieving to say the least.

“That whole conversation was about four years too late.” You said, pursing your lips.

“Better late than never.” Mason murmured, his eyes trained on you.

The pressure on your shoulders was lifted. All the things that needed to be said were said.

As time passes, the wound heals — sometimes, but in your case, that was true, as hard as it was to come to that conclusion — and it suddenly became easier to recall the loss of what might have been without bringing you back to wishing it would be again.

It was nice.

“Would it be totally inappropriate—”

“Not at all.” You interrupted, shrugging at his raised eyebrows.

“You didn’t know what I was going to say.” He chuckled.

“I’ll have you know that years of knowing you granted me the issue of knowing what you’re going to say,” You said, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

“What was I going to say?” He challenged, “If you get it right, I’ll get you tickets to the next game.”

You raised your brows.

“Confident, are we?”

He shrugged, a smug smirk on his lips.

“I don’t think it’s totally inappropriate to be friends.” At your words, he slumped in his chair, hands going to cover his face.

“No.” He groaned, repeating the word like a mantra as you pumped the air with your fist.

“Three tickets to the next game in the bag.” You bragged.

“Honestly.” He whined, peeling his hands away. “Why are you so difficult?”

“You offered the terms.”

“Why am I so dumb?” He rephrased.

“Ah, I'm afraid only you can answer that one.”

“The brain cells I have left don’t have enough energy to come up with an answer to a question as philosophical as that one—yes, it was philosophical to me, okay?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” You promised, putting your hands in the air in surrender.

“Just remember who’s going to give you those tickets, yeah?” He teased, sitting up.

“Abusing your power, nice move.”

“Oh…shut up.”

“Weak.” You coughed, trying to disguise the fact you said anything.

He looked straight at you, highly unimpressed by your tactics.

“Very original.” Was all he said.

“Is it supposed to be this easy?” You blurted out, spitting out the words before you could rethink the consequences of them being thrown into the abyss between you and Mason.

He knitted his brows together in thought.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “but we were friends way before, it’s not hard to fall back into old habits. I think that’s why it’s so easy.”

[donutloverxo]

Make me

*gif is not mine*

The donut series - Part 8

Note - Idk wtf this is... Lol! Hopefully I can complete this series before the year ends. Just 2 or 3 more parts now.

Thank you so so much to @firefly-graphics for the cute dividers💖💖

Summary - You move into the tower with Steve.

Warnings - 18+ only please, smut (m/f), soft dom Steve, daddy kink, captain kink, praise kink, orgasm denial, spanking, punishments, Steve is pushy and possessive, some angst, (lemme know if I missed any)

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 5.2k

Series masterlist

“What do you think you’re doing?!” You jerked when you heard Steve’s voice calling out to you, dropping your lipstick on your lap, your heart hammering in your chest.

You stared at his reflection in the dressing mirror. “God, Steve,” looking over your shoulder you glared at him, “Don’t you think you shouldn’t be sneaking up on me? Especially after everything that happened.”

His face immediately soften, muttering an apology to you, “But you’re not going out today.” He said in a tone that left no room for negotiation.

But you weren’t one of his agents or one to be bossed around. “And you get to tell me what to do, because?” folding your arms over your chest and mimicking his stance.

“Sweetheart, come on, don’t argue with me. It’s still dangerous for you out there.”

“What do you mean? I thought you arrested those guys. Who else would be after me?” you frowned.

He takes two long strides, standing before you and taking your hand in his “Clint has been interrogating them all night. They’ll crack soon enough and give up who they’re working for but we need to be careful till then.”

You sighed, “How long do you think it will be?”

“I don’t know, doll. Hopefully not too long.”

“Well, I can’t just stay locked up forever. Besides a locked door isn’t going to stop Hydra, I mean it didn’t the first time. So really what difference does it make if I’m in college or at home?”

“About that,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “how would you feel about moving into the Avengers tower?”

“What?” you blinked. You had heard of the Avengers living and working from the Avengers/Stark tower. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that Steve would possibly live there as well, but for some reason it did. “For how long?”

“Uh, we can give it a try and see how it goes?” he hesitated. He should’ve asked you to move there as soon as you told him you felt unsafe. The whole incident could’ve easily been avoided.

“I mean I wouldn’t mind living there, I think,” you shrugged, “it’s you I’m worried about.”

“What do you mean?” he tilted his head to the side, like a cute little puppy.

You got up from the chair, looping your hands over his neck and playing with the little hair on the nape of his neck, “You’re so cute and clueless, baby,” you cooed.

He huffed at that, puffing out his chest to show you how ‘macho' he is. Completely capable of protecting his girl from big bad guys no matter what.

“I just felt the tower is so unlike you. It’s so...”

Modern--was the word you were looking for, but that seemed too on the nose so you tried to think of a better adjective. You had only ever been to the tower a few times. The first was to make a delivery, when you met Steve for the first time, and then a few times at parties and little get-togethers. It was strange to think that you were part of the Avengers inner circle now, especially if you’re going to be living with them.

“So what?” he wanted to know.

“Just so not you, Stevie. I can’t imagine you living there.”

“We should’ve moved long ago. As soon as you told me about the stalker. I should’ve taken it more seriously.”

“Hey,” you traced his sharp cheekbone, “it’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault. Except the ones who did the kidnapping,” you scrunched up your nose, “they’ll get what’s coming to them though, right?”

“Of course, they’ll never hurt you or anyone else ever again,” he promised, kissing the inside of your wrist.

You kept looking at your watch. A gift from your mum for your high school graduation. It had a vintage feel to it, the thin leather strap making your hand look to delicate, Steve had always said that he liked it the best. He always did like you looking small compared to him.

The elevator dinged, “Exactly four minutes.”

“Hm?” he asked, lacing his fingers with yours as he walked towards ‘his' apartment. Or the apartment that was supposed to be his.

Tony had offered him boarding there when the tower was reconstructed months ago. He thought about it but eventually said no upon seeing just how big the apartment was.

Hell he had a whole floor to himself, which was too extravagant for him. He was used to taking only what he needed, if that.

More than that though...

You caught him looking at you, sparing him a sweet smile that crinkled your sparkling eyes.

More than that he didn’t want to live in such a large space all alone.

He would never share that with anyone, they’d laugh at Captain America being too scared of being alone. When he had the love and adoration of the whole world, a second chance at life and everything one could need to be happy.

But he still couldn’t bear the deafening silence of his lonely apartment. He’d get home from work, switch on the television so he’d have something to talk about with his colleagues, sip on a beer. It didn’t necessarily get him drunk or even taste all that great but it made him feel normal.

He never had to think about being alone in a strange new world all that much since he was often too busy. But he absolutely would not have an entire floor to himself. He’d surely go crazy.

“Four minutes for the elevator to get up here from the ground floor. It’s so high,” you marvelled at the view the floor to ceiling windows gave you.

“Yeah. They really should put some music there. They used to, back in my day,” he shared.

He wasn’t afraid of talking about his past with you. You never made fun of him for it, but instead listened intently and nodded. At most you’d tease him a bit... but he kinda liked that.

He punched in the code to his apartment, telling it to you, “Your birthday,” he winked, “it’s changed every twenty-hour hours.”

“That seems a bit excessive. This place is like a fortress, I doubt anybody could break in.”

He held the door open for you as you entered. Surprised to find the apartment already furnished.

“How did they manage to do all this so soon?” you wondered. Running your hands on the leather of the couch in the middle of the living.

The dark couch went well with the hardwood floors. A tall bookshelf to the side, it felt almost like a study, your fears of it being too modern and minimalistic for Steve’s taste were null, too masculine for your taste though. It seemed a lot like Steve’s old apartment. “Needs a woman’s touch.”

“You can decorate it however you like,” he said, hugging you from behind, he propped his chin up on your head.

“I don’t know... I don’t have any experience decorating apartments...” your voice small, scared of not being able to live up to his expectations. “Certainly wouldn’t do as good a job as you did,” your back leaned into his front.

“I didn’t decorate this, honey,” he chuckled. “Tony hired an interior designer. A few months ago but I didn’t want to live here then. We can ask him to call her again and then you can talk to her.”

“No, I don’t want to cause trouble. And it’s not like we’re living here for long,” you shrugged.

“What do you mean?” his voice stiff and although you couldn’t look at him you just knew he was frowning.

“Isn’t it a bit too soon to move in together?”

“But we were already living together.”

You sighed, “Yeah, but making renovations seems too... permanent?”

“You don’t want us to be permanent?”

You turned around, your heart aching at even the thought of hurting him, “That’s not what I meant, love... Isn’t it weird to live where you work?”

“It’s better this way. I can get home to you sooner,” he argued.

“Well, I suppose that’s true.”

“Are you having second thoughts about us?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head, “It’s a bit intimidating, but nope, no second thoughts.”

“That’s good then.”

You often dreamt all things Steve ever since you started dating him. Marrying him, even having a little boy wearing a mini Captain America suit for Halloween who looked eerily similar to Steve. You called him James after Steve’s late friend, you hadn’t told him about that though.

This morning you were dreaming of being whisked away in Italy, having your wedding to him by lake Como. You were wearing a traditional forties style gown, much like the one your grandma wore at your wedding.

Scrunching your nose as you were pulled from your beautiful dream when you felt something wet on your cheek. Rubbing it away with your palm, you moaned.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” Steve cooed, peppering kisses all over your face. Knowing that to be the best way to calm you before you snapped at him for waking you up so early.

You opened your eyes, rubbing your sleep away, “It’s still dark... I thought we agreed I’m doing school online,” you turned away from him, nuzzling your face into your pillow. “What time is it?”

“It’s five.”

“Pm?”

He snorted, “No. AM.”

“Oh my god, Steve!” you groaned, “What is wrong with you? That’s like...the middle of the night. Let me sleep in peace.”

“We have to train you. Come on I’ll teach you some self defense moves, it’ll be fun.”

“I doubt any amount of training will make me capable of fighting off hydra...”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t try,” he interrupted you, “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Maybe in the evening.”

“Morning is the best time to do it. Come on, it’ll be fun! Besides, we always do your thing.”

He did often let you pick the movie or drag him shopping so he could hold your bags and pay for your stuff. You knew he liked to work out and would like to have you do it with him. The only problem was--you literally couldn’t think of anything worse to do.

“Square your shoulders, honey,” he instructed as you followed, seeing an opening to punch him in his stomach, and because you were mad about being woken up at literally the crack of dawn you took it.

He managed to dodge it, obviously. And even had the nerve to be cocky about it as he smirked at you. “You’re so small, puppy,” he teased, patting your head.

You huffed, being almost a foot shorter than him. “Whatever.”

And then you recalled all the times you had wrestled your cousin, who was much bigger than you, when you were kids. Remembering a move that often worked on him.

You launched towards Steve, holding onto his midsection and trying to tackle him to the ground.

“Urgh!” you groaned but he refused to move even an inch.

Eventually you did give up, if only so you could stop embarrassing yourself. Helping, or rather just standing to the side and watching Steve as he punched the shit out of a bag.

“Go, Steve!” you cheered. Rubbing your thighs together at the sight of him all sweaty and of his bulging muscles. “You should bring me down here more often,” you sighed dreamily.

“Will do,” he smirked, pulling the velcro of his gloves, “Come on, it’s time to do some crunches, I’ll spot you.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, please,” you tried to run away, even though you knew it’d be of no use, but he effectively caught you and made you lie down on the mat. Giving you a goal of two sets of twenty frigging crunches.

“I hate you,” you grumbled. Willing yourself to pull your upper body up despite the slight pain in your side, moving up as Steve pecked your lips. To give you an ‘incentive’.

“Stop lying, I know you love me,” he smiled.

Lying back on the mat after your first set, on the verge of giving up but Steve kept insisting that you go on.

You looked down at him. His skin barely had a sheen of sweet, blond strands kissing his forehead. He still had an amber glow to his skin even as you got closer to the winter months.

“You’re staring, sweetheart,” he reminded you.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t help myself.” Often getting lost in his beauty.

You smirked as you got a wicked idea, putting your legs over his, straddling his hips, “Have you ever wanted to do something in public?” you asked, as he simply stared up at you, completely dumbfounded. Rolling your hips against his, “I have, it’ll be fun and thrilling.”

“I... No,” he blinked, shaking his head, “We shouldn’t,” but even as he said it, he held onto your sides, pulling you closer to him. You giggled as you felt his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

“Oh my god, guys, come on.”

You yelped, holding onto Steve’s shoulders to keep from falling, looking to your side to see where the voice came from.

“We could come back if you want...” Natasha said. She didn’t look fazed by it at all, unlike her friend.

“No, we are not coming back! This is not what you use the gym for, Rogers.”

You looked at Steve, who was as red as a tomato, “Sorry,” he got up, helping you up as well, standing behind you to cover up his erection, he introduced you to his friend, “This is Sam.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sam gave you a nervous smile.

“We should get going,” Steve said, pushing you towards the exit. “That’s a sneaky way to get out of training,” he whispered in your ear as you walked back to the elevator, “It won’t work again,” pinching you butt, making you squeal.

“We’ll see.”

You hummed as you looked at your side of the closet, which was as big as your old living room, it looked as if you didn’t really have enough stuff to fill it out. You looked over at Steve’s side, even more empty... and “So boring,” you whispered under your breath.

“Right?” Tony nodded, as if agreeing with you.

Why he was there in the first place you didn’t know. You didn’t invite him, neither did Steve, he had said he just wanted to see how well you both were fitting in. With Steve gone for the most part of the past couple of days you were on your own to unpack everything.

Tony said he’d help you... but you had a feeling he was just snooping.

“What a grandfather sense of fashion he has,” he looked at your poor Steve’s shirts in disgust.

You took offense to that. “If anyone can pull it off, he can,” you huffed. Nobody insults your man.

“Really?” he quirked a brunette brow, “I don’t think so. I mean... I could probably. I can pull off anything,” he boosted.

“I mean, you could try them on if you like, but they’re probably too big for you,” you taunted him in mock sympathy.

“Ouch, guess I deserve that,” he said as he went through the box you had stuffed your make up in.

“What are you even looking for?” you pulled it away from him, glaring at him, “Don’t you have a company to run or a world to save?”

“Hey, Steve was the one who asked me to keep you company,” he held his hands up.

“Really?”

“Well, he asked Nat, which is basically the same as asking me. So I volunteered. He wasn’t happy about that though,” you smacked his hand away when he tried to pry into another box.

“Why would you volunteer?” Steve may have good intentions but having the billionaire hovering over you was only making you irritated.

“... to hang out I guess,” he confessed when he couldn’t really think of anything else to say.

You giggled, “If you wanted to be my friend you could’ve just said so!”

“No... no,” he shook his head, “I didn’t say anything about wanting to be friends.”

He was just curious about you. To figure out what Caps taste is. And to maybe get some hot goss about him. Not that being friends with you sounds like the end of the world, you certainly weren’t as insufferable as Cap.

“What would you like to do, fren?” you fluttered your lashes at him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be packing?”

“I’m bored of being cooped up. Lets do something fun!”

Steve smiled, a wide cheeky one, as he thought of all the things he could do with you and spend the remainder of his day with you. His stomach doing somersaults in giddiness.

“I could get used to this,” he said to himself before calling out for you. The thought of coming home to you everyday, so domestic and romantic. His smile dropping as he looked for you in the bedroom, the boxes sat scattered and unopened. All over the room.

He knew you were in the apartment before he even heard your voice, his super senses alerting him, “Oh, Steve!” you perked up. Giggling as you put your shopping bags down. “So, I might’ve made an oopsie.”

Plumping down on the fluffy bed, large enough to fit two Steve’s and still have room for you, taking off your real Louboutins. Since Steve gave you his card, you decided you wanted to treat yourself to them. But they were equally as uncomfortable as the fake ones.

“What?” he quirked a brow, his hands on his hips as he despondently shook his head.

“Well, Tony pointed out that your wardrobe is kinda...” you thought of a adjective that wouldn’t be offensive, biting your lip as you went through your vocabulary, “Old-ish?” when he didn’t reply you kept going, “and I might’ve maxed out your card... Tony offered to pay! But it didn’t feel right,” you jutted your bottom lip out, pushing your titts up together in an attempt to look cute.

“You went out? When I specifically asked you not to?” a rage simmering in his voice--which you didn’t quite like. Because who the fuck was he to talk to you like that?

“I had Iron Man with me. I think I was okay. You’re being annoying,” you rolled your eyes.

“Am I?” his hands now folded over his chest.

And you’d be frustrated with him acting as if he was your dad, sure you called him daddy but that didn’t give him the right to have authority over you while you weren’t naked, if he didn’t look so fucking good. With the veins propping on his forearms, light blond hair littered over it, his watch strapped on his wide wrist. You only stared him down in response.

“It would’ve been better if you had went alone instead. Tony is nothing but trouble,” he scoffed.

“I thought you wanted me to make friends with your team,” you countered.

“Are my clothes too embarrassing for you? Am I too old for you?” he tried to keep his voice from wavering, to hide some of his vulnerability, but he couldn’t, not to you anyway. “Is that why you didn’t tell your family about me?”

You gaped at him. That was the reason you hadn’t told your mom. She’d point out the obvious reasons, as she had just like you expected, him being from the forties would just make things harder for you both.

“I - ” you started but then stopped, “I like your clothes as they are. If you don’t like what I got you then we can return them. I just wanted to do something nice for you,” getting up and then walking towards him, kissing his jaw and stroking his arms to calm him, “you never think about yourself, I wanted to do that for you.”

“I wish that was true, doll,” he replied gravely. His lips pressed in a thin line as he looked at your sweet face, “But you have to apologize. For not following my orders.”

You snorted, taking a step back, “For the last time--you cannot order me around. I don’t care that you think you know what’s best.”

“Really? I’ve been working my ass off on trying to find the guys that did this to you and you are just hell bent on making my life harder,” he let out a dry chuckled, “say your sorry.”

“Make me.”

You regretted the words as soon as they came out of you, before you knew it he had you hauled over his lap, ready to spank an apology out of you.

“Ah!” you yelped at the unceremonious blow.

You did like it when he spanked you, you truly didn’t know why, but it made your pussy quiver. And honestly he didn’t do it enough. Only doing it once when you were late and weren’t able to call him.

Slapping your covered bottom a second time before stopping when he heard you moan, slipping a palm under your dress, being purposely slow to draw it out for you, to torture you in his own way, he pushed your panties aside, swirling your juices around your lips.

“You’re fucking enjoying this,” he growled.

You whimpered when he rolled your bundle of nerves between his fingers, nodding your head, already feeling yourself tethering on the edge.

“That’s too bad... I’ll have to be more creative,” he said as he withdrew his hand, making you writhe in his hold.

You looked at him over your shoulder, wiggling your butt to try to entice him before huffing when he simply stared at you, stoic as ever, “You’re no fair!”

“I’m doing this to be fair, sweetheart. I don’t enjoy it anymore than you do.”

A blatant, clear-cut, shameless lie. You both knew it. He loved thinking of ways to ‘punish' and executing them.

“What are you doing?” you asked as he placed you over his lap, your back to his broad front, his fingers working on the zipper of your dress. Pushing the sleeves down your shoulders.

“I’m going to fuck you till you admit that you’re sorry,” since he had no patience for insolence, placing a dubiously sweet and innocent kiss to your cheek.

“In your dreams,” you retorted but then shivered in his arms you let him roll your panties down your thick thighs, lifting up your hips to help him out, leaving you completely bare against him.

You bashfully rubbed your face against his button up, you felt his heart beating steadily, as his hands shamelessly explored your body. Grabbing and kneading at your breasts and hips, tracing the stretch marks on your thighs.

“Aren’t you gonna take your clothes off too?” you made yourself small.

You weren’t afraid of being so vulnerable before him, you had gotten used to it because you trusted him enough to not be intimidated by his perfect physique, but right now your whole body felt hot as you just wanted to cover up and give yourself some sort of modesty. Even if your desires and yearning for him was anything but modest.

“No, honey,” he answered, his fingers parting your weeping lips as he looked down to get a glance of it over your shoulders. Licking his lips at the sight of it, “Such a pretty pussy, doll. And all mine,” he rasped as he prodded at your hole with his middle finger before pushing it in, “Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you nodded, trying to roll your hips over the erection pressing into your back.

He stilled your movements by holding onto your hips, warning you to stop, “Forever?” he urged.

“Yes, forever, god, just do something!” you wailed. Because whatever he was doing was not enough to satisfy you.

He hummed in thought, “I’m not a young guy. I prefer to take my time,” he pushed another finger in, stretching you out by viscously scissoring your cunt, all the while kissing your hair and your face.

He wasn’t someone who took only what he needed.

He didn’t need you.

Although it often seem to him as if you were like air--impossible to live without. He didn’t need you to live.

But he wanted you. More than anything else in the whole world.

He knew he shouldn’t keep you. Only being with you for a few months and he had almost gotten you killed but there was no way he could help himself.

“I’m selfish,” he whispered to you, pausing his ministrations to ruin your climax, “I’m selfish with you. I’m not as good as everyone makes me out to be,” he confessed. He didn’t know if it was right to do so, but he didn’t want to even consider the other option of letting you go.

“I figured out long ago that you weren’t all that good and boring,” you cried as he stopped again. Your hand holding onto his wrist as your sensitive cunt gushing juices of arousal all over your brand new sheets. “But I’m good, aren’t I, daddy?” you whispered, sultrily. “You can make me come--I’m always good to you. I promise I’ll suck you off after.”

“No.”

Tears welled up in your eyes at his rejection, he had never done that to you. To deny you so easily and bluntly. You thought he was the one person in this whole world who would do anything for you, you could ask for the moon and he’d probably try to give it to you.

Was he really that mad at you?

Your bottom lip quivering as tears welled up in your eyes, “You’re so mean,” you accused, loudly sniffing as you felt a tear drop down your cheek.

He blinked, his fingers stopping their assault on your swollen pussy as he took in your words. You could stomp all over his heart, even shoot him, do anything you want to him, he’d forgive you for it but he absolutely could not bear to see you cry.

“No, pup,” he cooed, gently removing his fingers as you whined, he kissed your forehead as he hushed you, “it’s okay, you’re okay, shush,” one hand under your neck and circling another under your knees, cradling your naked body close to his chest like a babe, he rocked you back and forth in an effort to sooth you.

“I’m sorry I was mean,” he whispered into your hair.

“You broke your pinky promise,” you held onto his neck. You were angry with him and at the situation but your body craved the comfort his gave you. “I can’t trust you now.”

His heart ached at that, “Don’t say that,” he furrowed his brows, kissing you all over your face, “I didn’t yell, puppy.”

“But you got mad,” you puffed your cheeks.

“I didn’t promise to not get mad. That’s a bit unrealistic...”

“No, you promised--no yelling, curing or meanness. Not calling me your 'good girl' or letting me come is mean! And cruel,” you reminded him, whimpering into his chest.

“Right, right. I’m sorry, that’s my fault then. I got a bit carried away... I thought you liked that you know?”

You hummed. You did like it when Steve was a bit rough, but you always knew he loved you with all his heart because you could see it in his eyes. The way he’d praise you for being so good for him, calling you his one and only, that he could never love anyone as much as he loves you.

But when he didn’t say that to you, when he refused to call you good, your soft heart couldn’t take the rejection.

“I do... but...” you hid your face in his neck.

“But what?” he urged you.

“But I also like knowing that you love me,” you spoke against his prickly stubble.

“Of course I love you. I’m sorry I made you think I didn’t, even for a second. You’re my sweet girl, forever and always,” he promised, rocking you some more, until your breathing becomes normal and steady again.

“You’re my daddy forever too,” you giggled, “or Captain, whatever you prefer.”

“If I had to pick I’d say Steve,” he told you. While it was nice to have you call him sweet name, nobody really uses his given name anymore. To have you call him that in your sweet girly voice, reminding him that he could be just Steve with you, was exhilarating.

“Okie, Stevie then.”

“Right, how about I draw you a bath? Afterwards we can go over the things you got me,” he perked up.

“You don’t have to wear them if you’re not comfortable.”

“I know, pup, but I want to. I want to get with the times. Can’t have anyone making fun of you for dating an old man,” he teased, swaying you some more.

“Hm, but...”

“But what?”

“I... um... still wanna come, so bad,” you whispered softly, rubbing your thighs together. “Will you make me come, Stevie?”

“Yes,” he replied immediately, “how would you like me to?”

“I wanna come around you,” you stated as heat rushed to your cheeks. “And I am sorry. I probably should’ve told you before going with Tony.”

“I know you’ve been cooped up, honey. I’m going to take a few days off so we can do whatever you like,” he said, working on unbuckling his belt, “But before that, I need to take care of my sweet girl, just like she does for me.”

Your hands feebly pulling at his button up, he took your queue and rid himself of it, along with his undershirt as your hands explored the expanse of his broad chest.

Pulling his length out, he manoeuvred your body till you over him, “Guide me in, sweetheart,” he instructed as you whimpered.

Grabbing the base of his cock, coating your slick in his pre ejaculate, you slowly sunk down on him. Not being able to fit all of him in, because he was as thick as a can of pringles, and oh so long.

You looked at him, too anxious to disappoint him, “Can’t fit it all in,” you whined.

“It’s okay, doll,” he stroked your back. “We’ll make it fit some other day,” he pecked your lips, lying on his back and pulling you down with him he snaked a hand between your bodies, working your clit up with his hand till he felt you convulsing and clenching around his length, gripping him so tight as you squirmed in his hold.

Whispering sweet nothings to you as you calmed down from your high. You wanted to do something for him too, to make him come, so you grinded your hips over his, shivering at the sick squelching sounds your joined sexes made.

But he stopped you by gripping your hips, “How about you just keep me warm for now?” he asked.

You hummed, “It’ll be hard...” to have him just stay inside you, and you knew he could stay hard for hours if he wanted to, and for you to not be able to do anything about it...

“I know it will be. But you’re my good girl, you can do that for me, right?” he tipped your chin up to make you look at him.

“Yes, Stevie,” you agreed.

Laying your head back on his chest, muttering a ‘sorry' whenever you accidentally clenched around him and following his orders like a good girl would.

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[sinarose]

Candid Camera

Pairing: Jotaro Kujo x Fem!Reader

Summary: The day before Jotaro leaves for Morioh he realizes he’s going to miss you more than he thought. He makes the most of the time he has left.

Word count: 1859

Tags: idk kinda fluffy at the beginning, smut, porn with a tiny bit of plot, he’s been distant bc ptsd and all, kind of modeled after what his canon relationship with his wife was probably like, praise kink, size kink, he takes pictures, mirror, implied that splat is there too, possessiveness if you squint, mention of choking

A/N: inspired by a mirror selfie I took where I edited jotaro into the background with me hahaha anyway this is just self indulgent smut like I really just threw all my kinks in and called it a day. I don’t really know what other tags to include, so if I missed any tw pls let me know! Enjoy the filth besties

It’s the day before he’s scheduled to leave on the Speedwagon Foundation jet that Jotaro becomes uncharacteristically clingy. You’ve been married for a couple years now, have a daughter, live together in a small house in California, but he doesn’t usually grab you like this.

He’s been following you around the house like a lost puppy all day, going from one room to the next as you go through the chores you reserve for your days off. Snaking his arms around your waist when he can. Content to just watch you work when he can’t.

Jolyne’s with grandma, it’s just the two of you.

At first it makes you think the worst. He doesn’t really kiss you the way he used to, and you can’t remember the last time you woke up in his arms. Is there something making him feel guilty for leaving? Is there some other reason he’s leaving to Japan?

He travels often enough, something you might find strange for a marine biologist. Especially that trip to Cairo. Something about research for his PhD, but he rarely talks about his trips so you wouldn’t even be able to tell if he was lying.

It’s when he tries to follow you into the bathroom that you decide enough is enough. “Jotaro,” you sigh. “Is everything alright?”

He simply stares down at you, not one for many words. “Everything’s fine.”

“Then why are you trying to follow me into bathroom?”

His eyes don’t meet your own at that, the faintest of blushes forming on his tanned skin. “Can a man not spend time with his wife?”

A laugh bubbles out before you can stop it. “Well, yeah, but I need to pee.”

He looks away again, completely flushed now. “I’ll uh be in the room.”

~~~

“What’s all this?”

There’s a Polaroid camera out on the bed sitting next to your husband, a nervous look on his face that you haven’t seen in years. “Jotaro, what’s the matter?”

“Well, I’m gonna be gone for a while...” he trails off looking down at his hands in his lap. It’s almost comical seeing your monster of a man looking nervous on the huge bed. A man that would strike fear into the heart of any opponent, too nervous to look his tiny wife in the face.

You stride over to him, knowing that in his few moments of vulnerability he needs to be held. “I know baby, but we’ll make the best of it. We’ll talk on the phone when we can and I’ll mail you lots of pictures of Jolyne. I’m still not sure how to use email if I’m being honest, but we can try that too.”

You wish someone could photograph the way your husband looks in your arms. It’s ridiculous having a man twice your size cling to you.

“I know I’m not the best at showing it, but I’ll miss you, a lot.” He’s speaking into your neck, but his arms are wandering elsewhere. From your upper back down to your waist and ultimately finding purchase where your hips meet your thighs.

“Jotaro, you’re starting to scare me.” A small giggle spills out of you as his fingers begin to move once more. Massaging into the meat of your thigh, one of his favorite things about you.

He’s shifting positions now, parting your thighs and pulling you onto his lap now. “I love you, I don’t say that enough.”

And then his lips are on yours, stealing your breath and making your head spin. The worried man from moments ago is long gone, a newfound confidence and hunger taking his place. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in even closer. The last time he kissed you like this must’ve been months ago, that time you both had one too many glasses of wine at dinner. Before that? You couldn’t say.

He knows your body, even if he hasn’t indulged you as much lately. He knows that if he kisses you on the lips and then makes his way up your jaw then you’ll let out those soft moans he loves so much. He knows that when he licks the shell of your ear it makes you shiver and writhe in his arms. When he gets to your neck it tickles you, and the breathy giggles that pepper your moans have him so hard it hurts.

You’re bucking into him now, not quite sure where this is all coming from but definitely not opposed. You’re so enthralled in the way he feels, his scent, his touch, that it barely registers that he’s standing now. One arm under your bottom, the other reaching for the camera on the bed. Your legs tightly wrapped around his waist.

Your pussy squeezes around nothing when you realize he’s holding you with just one arm, just how little are you in his eyes?

You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes until you’ve reached your destination. He’s slowly making his way down to the floor, taking a seat on the soft carpet as you continue to grind yourself into him.

And then he’s pulling you out of the fog, moving you once again like you weigh nothing until your back is flush to his chest. You’re met with your reflection, you’re sitting in front of the full-length mirror.

Your hair is falling out of your ponytail, wispy half bangs framing your flushed face. Your lips are slightly parted, swollen and glistening from your husband’s abrupt kisses. There’s the beginnings of a love bite forming on your neck, just barely peeking out from under your sweater. Your hoodie is wrinkled and you’re only now realizing that somewhere along the way he managed to unbutton and unzip your jeans.

What has gotten into him? Not that you’re complaining.

“You look so pretty like this, my pretty little wife. Wanna remember you like this while I’m gone.” He’s grabbing the camera now, turning the flash off and bringing it up to his face. “Smile.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever taken any sort of lewd pictures before. You’d bought him the Polaroid camera for his birthday earlier that year for this specific trip. To photograph Japan for you, the starfish he’ll be researching, the long-lost family he’ll be meeting. You won’t be joining him, not that you ever have. It’s hard to travel with kids, even if you only have one Jolyne is enough to keep your hands full.

To see him use the gift you bought him for something like this... it’s sending all kinds of pleasure down to your pussy.

“Jotaro, please...” you don’t really know what exactly you’re begging for you just need his hands on you. The momentary absence as he snapped your photo was too long.

“Please what, princess? Use your words, baby.” Jotaro is enjoying this much more than he thought he would. His hard cock straining against his white pants, he has to stifle his moans every time you grind against him.

“Touch me, please,” you can barely whimper out. He’s not even touching you, yet you feel like your skin is on fire. The fog in your head is back, so turned on from watching the photo start to develop on the table next to you. Something about watching your own blissed-out face slowly appear in the photo.

“Touch you where?” Such a fucking tease.

The longer he goes without touching you the more frustrated you get. Looking at him dwarf you in the mirror is just adding to the arousal pooling in your panties. “Jotaro-” You can’t help but whine.

“Alright, alright. But only because you look so perfect when you whine.” He snakes a finger down into your undone pants and starts a soft rhythm on your clit. He groans into your ear, “You’ll have to ask nicely next time.”

He continues circling your clit and begins sucking another bruise onto your neck. He knows it’ll be long gone before he comes back, but he wants to mark you before he goes. Not sure when he’ll be back he needs everyone, especially that single guy with the wandering eyes down the block, to know you belong to someone.

You miss when he pulls your pants down, not even sure how he managed to do so with one hand in your pants and the other up your shirt. You suppose you’re too out of it, head lolling back into his chest and moans falling freely from your mouth, to notice.

You hear another click and faintly realize he’s snapped another photo. You don’t even give it a second thought, too lost in him to realize he’s not the one holding the camera.

“Fuck, you look so good right now,” he groans into your neck. “One more for me baby, come on, smile.”

You raise your head off his chest, heavy from his touch, and give him the faintest of smiles. He’s actually in the frame this time, smiling down at you rather than the camera. It’d be cute enough to include in a photo album if not for your purple neck and glistening pussy stealing the show. The photo isn’t entirely in focus, but somehow his fingers buried deep inside your sloppy cunt look picture perfect.

You both stare at the photo as it develops, and once it’s completely finished you feel Jotaro shift beneath you. “Oh my god...”

His chest rumbles behind you, something between a moan and a growl is stuck in his chest. “You need to cum. Now.”

And then he’s burying his fingers back in your dripping cunt, thrusting in and out with a ferocity that makes you feel like you’re floating. He’s murmuring all kinds of things in your ear. Something about how your pussy, how you were made just for him. You honestly only hear half the words coming out of his mouth, too busy drowning in pleasure.

You start to feel ice at your fingertips, the familiar greeting of overstimulation upon you. You’re so so close, just a little more. “Jo-Jotaro..I wanna... Please I can’t- I’m I’m gonna-“ you can’t get a full thought out between pants before you’re falling.

The floating feeling is gone, instead, you’re crashing down into an ocean. Waves of pleasure threaten to pull you out to sea but you’re tethered back to shore by a firm hand squeezing your neck.

“That’s it baby, let go. Give it to me,” Jotaro’s babbling into your ear, just as lost as you are. In the heat of the moment as you fuck yourself on his fingers you don’t register another few clicks of the camera.

It feels like an eternity of floating in the waves before it finally settles. The waves have calmed, but when Jotaro moves his fingers up to his lips and sucks on them, a languid moan escaping him, you feel like you’re getting lost at sea all over again.

“So pretty like this, all spent on my lap.” He’s placing soft kisses on your jaw now, reeling you back to shore slowly as you struggle to catch your breath. He tugs at your sweater.

“How about a few without this?”

A/N: hi idk if anyone will even read this but hope you enjoyed if you did! I love joot so much so I hope I can write some more for him. Thanks again 🥰

[enthusiasticharry]

The Secrets You Keep

summary: you're a stripper, and you meet Harry off shift. what happens when he finds out?

request: hiiii would you be able to do something like stripper y/n? not where they meet at the club or anything but something natural like at a cafe or something but she keeps it from him bc she thinks he’ll leave her? then he has a guys night at the strip club and sees her perform? but he loves it and she’s a bit embarrassed? idk but that kinda vibe if ur up for it! X

word count: 8.3k words of fluff, smut and angst if you squint (and i really mean squint) also not proofread, sorry! 

masterlist    |    asks

It never occurred to you that once you left full time education you’d end up becoming a stripper. It wasn’t the occupation you had envisioned for yourself, but it was the one that paid the best money and even though it shouldn’t be — money was the thing that you needed the most. You lived in a small, one bedroom flat that you shared with your Grandma who had no income and little pension meaning that you was the only source of income for the two of you. Obviously it was hard upon you, but your Grandma had done so much for you when you were younger that you wanted to help her as much as you possibly could. Granted, finding a job as an eighteen year old that was enough to help pay the bills and for the treatment your Grandmother needed wasn’t the easiest, and that was how you stumbled across the club and the jobs there. Your Grandma didn’t know how you received your income, and you planned to keep it that way for as long as you physically could. 

“Have you got any private dances today?” Jocelyn, also known as Sapphire amongst the people in the club, asked as she started fixing her makeup in the mirror next to yours. 

“I don’t know.” You sighed, spraying a small amount of hairspray upon your curls, “I haven’t spoken to Elliot yet.” 

“Apparently some big shot businessmen are coming in tomorrow.” Ruby adds from the other side of you, applying a lipstick that matched her name to her lips. 

“Ugh.” Sapphire groaned, “That means old men with small dicks wanking to us instead of being with their probably very lovely, loving wives at home.” 

“They lust after the taboo.” You add, applying a small amount of lipgloss to your lips, “They want what they can’t have, and brag when they get it.” 

“They have money though.” Ruby shrugged, “Haven’t had many tips this week. I’d probably do anything for a couple hundred quid tomorrow.” 

“Not anything Ruby.” You turn to look at her, shaking your head at the younger girl, “Stand your ground. Don’t let them take advantage of you.” 

“I won’t.” She smiled, “I learnt from the best.” 

“And don’t you forget it.” 

As a fresh eighteen year old, just as Ruby was now, you could’ve only hoped for someone to help you and guide you through the trails and tribulations you endured at the club. That’s why you sort of took the younger girl under your wing and helped her as much as possible. 

It wasn’t a lot. Granted, with what they did the majority of it was on their own upon the stage or in a private dance but you wanted to make sure she had small tips to help her handle herself in any situation that could occur and that she someone to talk to if she ever needed it. 

“Are you working tomorrow, Emerald?” Emerald was your stage name. 

“No.” You sigh happily, “It’s my day off.” 

“Enjoy yourself, you deserve it.” Ruby smiled. 

You certainly did. 

The next morning, after helping your Grandma get ready and to the hospital, you make your way towards the small café you usually went to during your Grandmother’s chemo sessions. They usually lasted around three hours, and whilst you offered to stay with her, she usually forced you to leave and spend some time on your own, claiming she didn’t want you to see her at her worst.

The spring days had just started to warm up, so you dressed yourself in a summer dress you had picked up for cheap at a charity shop. You carried your tote bag with your book in over your shoulder as you pushed past the people on the street.

It wasn’t usually this busy, and looking around you saw no free tables but a few free chairs dotted around. Your favourite table, tucked away in the far right corner by the window had been taken by a man sat reading, just as you would’ve been. You toy back and forth with the idea of going to sit over there as you walk over to the counter. 

You order your usual, a peach iced tea, and wait for the kind barista to make it. Your free days, usually, landed sporadically. They normally occurred when your grandmother either had chemo or a hospital appointment and that’s only because she can sometimes be really ill after them and needed you to look after her. Even though Elliot was not a good person by any means, he understood your situation and did help as little as he could. 

“Excuse me.” The man looked up from this book at you, “Is this seat taken?” 

“Uh. . .” 

“It’s fine if it’s not!” Your quick to add, “There’s just no other seats.” 

“No.” Your smile falters, “No! I mean that the seats not taken. It’s yours.” 

“Thank you.” You drop your tote bag down on the floor, holding your hand out to the man, “I’m YN.” 

“Harry.” He shakes your outstretched hand. 

There was something oddly familiar about him, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on why. He dressed quite casually, a punny t-shirt that said something about health on it and you didn’t want to seem too weird and bend down to look at what he had on his bottom half but you suspected it was something just as interesting. 

You take your book out of your bag and place it on the table in front of you, flicking through the pages until you found the page you had left off at. 

As a child you loved to read. Your grandmother always read you a bedtime story before bed and it lead to English being your best subject at school. Whether it be the creative writing aspect, or the analytic — you were just good at it. It was your highest grade at GCSE, an A, and your highest grade at A Level, a B.

You didn’t exchange any more words with Harry the entire time you were there. Periodically you looked up at him, and somewhere deep down you hoped that he did the same for you but you couldn’t be too sure. The book that he was reading seemed interesting enough, something about watermelon, you had noticed. You had a slight suspicion that it wasn’t about watermelon but you could never be too sure you supposed. 

A whine almost escaped your lips when you realised that you had to go pick up your Grandmother and your book had just gotten interesting. That was the problem when you read, you could sit and do it for hours and not even look up. It was something so interesting to you that you could immerse yourself in a world different to the one you lived in and slip out of reality for however long and return back to normal as though nothing had happened. 

“Thank you for letting me sit here.” You smile as you pack your bag up, “Goodbye.” 

“Bye.” 

You left feeling sort of fuzzy inside. You hadn’t spoken to the man at all really, but he was kind and certainly handsome with his tousled brown hair and gentle smile. That was probably going to be the last time that you saw him, and you probably should’ve asked for his number at least but you didn’t and that was why you walked away with him laying heavy upon your mind.

The next day, you wanted nothing more than to leave in the middle of your shift and curl up on the sofa. Instead, you were stood in a private room in the back of the club swirling your hips for a man sat upon a chair in the middle. 

“You’re fucking fit.” He moans, and you almost throw up in your mouth. 

“Thank you.” 

You move yourself so you’re hovered over his lap, twisting your hips to beat of the sultry song spilling out of the speakers. If you didn’t need the money, or have a bills to pay you certainly wouldn’t be doing this. 

“Fucking sort.” That’s when his hand drops down upon your behind, squeezing the flesh harshly. 

You stand up, flipping around so that you’re looking at him, “Hands off.” 

“Babe.” He throws his head back, “C’mon I’ve paid bags for this dance.” 

“And you pay for a dance, and the rules state no touching.” 

He holds his hands up in surrender, “I’m sorry. Won’t happen again, babe.” 

“Better not.” 

It does, and that’s when you get up and leave. He still has to pay, which is a plus but it just isn’t the best feeling. The job you do isn’t one that people necessarily respect you for, but there are rules in place to help with that. You and the other dancers within the club were human beings and deserved the rights that any other person has. 

“You okay?” Ruby presses her hand to your shoulder as you powder your under-eyes, “I heard he was touching.” 

“Yeah.” You smile at her through the mirror, “Started behind and they he just full on groped me.” 

“Men are pigs.” 

“I second that statement.” You laugh, “But you know what they’ll say.” 

“That we teased and antagonised them to do it.”

Throwing her a deadpan look, you nod. It was something that you had dealt with for the past six years of your life and even though you did hate it and wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you up every time it happened — you had gotten used to it. 

“Did you have a nice day off yesterday?” 

“I did thank you.” You smile, “Read a bit. Spent some time with my Grandma.” 

“Sounds lovely.” Her face then twists into one that you can’t quite pinpoint, “You didn’t miss much here.” 

“The businessmen not up too much?” 

“No they paid well.” She nodded, “We just had to watch them wank their micropenises at us.” 

You curl your nose up at the thought, “That sounds pleasant.” 

“Totally.” She snorts. 

“Emerald. Ruby.” Elliot sticks his head into the room, “Get your asses back out there.” 

Ruby rolls her eyes and you laugh. Your job certainly wasn’t your favourite but some of the people around you made it more pleasant.

Two weeks later you find yourself sat in the corner of the café down the road from the hospital, your book open in front of you and a peppermint tea sat upon the table in a pot. Your Grandmother’s second round of chemo was slowly coming to the end of its stint and even though you wanted nothing more than for her to be back to the epitome of health, you would miss spending time at this small café. 

“Hi.” You lift your head up to see Harry stood there, slightly breathless, “Is this seat taken?” 

“It’s yours.” You smile, watching him drop his book on the table.

This time you could see his entire outfit. A white t-shirt with some writing on that you missed, a floral shirt over the top paired with red corduroy flares. You were right the last time that you met him —he did have an amazing sense of style. You, however, bought whatever was the cheapest or on sale that seemed acceptable to wear in public. 

“How have you been?” 

“I’ve been okay.” You smile, “You?” 

“Good, thanks.” He scratches the base of his neck, “I haven’t seen you in a while.” 

“Oh.” You have to stop yourself from smiling too much, “I only come when my Grandma has an appointment and they’re usually two weeks apart.” 

“Ah.” He nods before his face curls, “I’m sorry if that seemed creepy.” 

“It didn’t.” You can’t help the butterflies that erupt within your stomach, “I just thought I wouldn’t see you again.” 

“Couldn’t let that happen.” Heat rises up your neck as he beams.

“No complaints about that from me.” 

“That’s good.” He rests his hand upon his chest, letting out a deep breath, “Thought I was punching a little over my weight.” 

“You’re not.” You cheeks hurt from smiling, “It’s cute.” 

He looks down at his book. He seemed so shy, as though he had a confidence to talk to people but once they complimented him or something to do with him it completely changed. It was intriguing. He was already nicer to you than most people you’ve met of the opposite sex in your life and you’re let to learn anything about him apart from the fact that he reads Bukowski and likes black coffee — it certainly wasn’t much to go on. 

“How long do we have until you have to go back to your Grandma?” 

“Not long.” You sigh sadly, “I’m sorry.” 

“No, I understand, it’s okay.” He flashes you a small smile, “Can I walk you back to the hospital?” 

You ponder his offer for a second, “Yeah. I’d like that.”

You walk back to the hospital brushing arms with one of the nicest people you’d ever met, and you couldn’t be happier. 

“Has your Grandma been having treatment for long?” 

“It’s her second round.” You explained, “They originally removed the tumour and it went away but it came back. They caught it quickly and she’s back in bay 11 for three hours every two weeks.” 

“I’m sorry.” He sighs, “That must’ve been tough.” 

You shrug, “She’s a fighter, I know she is.” 

“I don’t doubt she is.” He smiles, “She’s got an amazing granddaughter to stay alive for.” 

The walk to the hospital isn’t long enough in your opinion. You speak about a few things, and you learn he does music and that’s when you put two and two together and realise that he’s actually Harry Styles from One Direction. Harry wished he could’ve recorded your reaction when you realised. 

Harry had never met someone like you, and he had met a lot of people in his life. You were sweet, and kind and so gentle but also confident and held yourself in such a strong way that he couldn’t help but want to know you, the real you. 

“This is it.” You stop in front of the entrance closest to the chemo ward, “Thank you for walking me.” 

“It’s no problem.” He smiles, “I hope this doesn’t sound too weird, but can I get your number?” 

“Uh. . . yeah.” 

“Great.” He beams, “At least now I won’t have to hope you show up at the café.” 

You swear you felt your heart burst. 

During your shift a couple of weeks later, you don’t notice your phone light up a message. You actually don’t notice at all until you arrived home that night. You had already checked on your Grandma, who was sound asleep in bed, and that’s when you allowed yourself to drop down upon the sofa with a sigh. 

Seeing an unknown number pop up on your screen at first had confused you, but once you had looked further into it, your palms started sweating. 

Hi YN. It’s Harry. I know it’s been a while but I’ve been trying to figure out what to say. I hope you and your Grandma are well. 

Your heart starts to beat faster. The message you had awaited for weeks was here and you had no idea how to act, never mind what too reply back with. The only thing that spiralled around within your mind was that he had been thinking about you. 

In your head, you imagined him pacing around in his large house trying to figure out what to send you, just like they do in the movies. You at least hoped that was what he had been doing over the past couple of weeks. 

Hi Harry! It’s lovely to hear from you, sorry it’s late. I’m okay, Grandma’s getting there. How are you? 

You throw your phone down on the sofa next to you, trying not to giggle like you did as a schoolgirl whenever you were messaging boys. You nearly cried whenever you phone ran out of credit and you’d end up having to run to the store to get a top up in the morning with your spending money and explaining to them what had happened. You were thankful that your upgrade didn’t need that. 

I’m okay. Glad to hear about your Grandma. I know this is probably really weird and totally out of the blue, but are you free this weekend? I’m leaving next week for a little while and I really want to see you before I do. 

In your head, you ignore the end of the message about him leaving and focus on the fact that he wants to see you. Harry Styles wants to see you. You hoped it was a date, everything pointed it to be a date but you didn’t want get too ahead of yourself. 

You haven’t had a boyfriend since your first year of Sixth Form, and the first date you were going on since then was going to be with Harry Styles of all people. 

If you pull some strings, work an extra long shift on Saturday and please some of Elliot’s special clients — you may be able to get Friday night off. It was a maybe, but over the next two days you could make it a yes. You hoped that you could make it a yes. 

You’ve never, in your six years of working at the club, missed any of your shifts for anything other than your Grandma suddenly falling ill, and those were on rare occasions. You certainly deserved this day off.

I’ll have to check with my boss but I think I could do Friday night? If that’s not a problem for you. 

You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from internally freaking out. 

Sounds perfect. How about I pick you up at 8? 

You wince. It wasn’t as though your were embarrassed of where you lived because you weren’t. You’ve worked hard to be able to pay for the flat and everything in it but there was something about showing it to someone who you’ve only just met and had no intention of explaining your situation to wasn’t on the top of your priority list. 

Is there any chance I could meet you somewhere? 

Of course. Where do you fancy eating? Italian? Thai? 

Italian sounds good. 

Great. I’ll send you details over. 

Thank you :) 

See you then, YN. Sweet dreams. 

Night, Harry. 

You slept well that night. 

“I just don’t think I can spare you Friday.” Elliot sighs, “I’m sorry YN.” 

You have to stop yourself from wanting to cry. You don’t use up all your holiday days, and you work way more than you should or that you’re paid for but you don’t complain and you just get on with it. The one time you ask for a shift off, his stubborn ass says that he cant do it. 

“Please, Elliot.” You sign, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I just need this day off.” 

“And I need my best girl on the floor. Need the best of the best.” 

“There are plenty of other better girls than me working here.” 

He shakes his head, “You’re the favourite, YN. Need you to be there.” 

“Elliot.” You sigh, leaning forward in the uncomfortable seat you were sat in, “I’ve worked for you for six years and I’ve never asked for a day off like this before.” 

“Yeah but—”

“—and! I’ve never asked for a day off apart from going to the hospital and you know that.” 

“I couldn’t exactly say no to you—”

“I’ve worked every shift you’ve ever asked me to, covered for people when you need it.” 

“Stop it!” He holds his hand up to silence you, “Just shut up for a second.” 

You clamp your lips shut. If you didn’t need to stay on his good side to get Friday off you probably would’ve said something about how rude he was being. He’d always been rude, but he paid you and the rest of the girls so you all chose to ignore it. 

He ponders, and you know the cogs are turning within his brain as he scrolls through his laptop, typing a few things. He takes his glasses off his face and drops them dramatically down on the table in front of him. 

“Ruby will cover your shift.” 

You let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you!” 

“Don’t be thanking me too quickly.” He points his finger, “I need a favour from you.” 

“Anything. Well not anything.” 

“In a few weeks times there’s a big birthday party coming in.” He explains, “I need you to be the star of the show, do private dances and all the good things like that.” 

“Just that?” You ask, knowing that it could be a trap knowing Elliot’s track record. 

He nods, “Just that.” 

You look at him sceptically, “What’s the catch?” 

“No catch.” He holds his hands up, “A few big names are coming, that’s all. A list celebs that have asked to use the back exit.”

“That’s it?” 

“That’s it.” 

“Let me know the date and I’ll do it.” 

You stand up, happy that you’ve managed to get your shift tomorrow off and that you can go on the date you have been excited for since you met Harry and was introduced to the world with him in it. 

“Have fun at your thing Friday.” 

“Thank you. . .?” 

You don’t think you like Elliot being nice to you. 

Friday night rolled around quickly and you were thankful for that. After helping your Grandma with her own dinner and into bed, you start getting ready. You curl your hair, brushing it out until its in what looks like effortless waves but are actually quite hard waves to achieve. You do natural makeup, something completely different to makeup you usually wear in one of your shifts. You try to keep all of your features soft, different to how you usually look on a day to day basis. You dress in a long white polka-dotted maxi skirt, paired with a thin long-sleeved jumper that would keep you warm due to the ever changing British weather. 

You had done a little bit of research on the restaurant Harry had sent you the address for and learnt that it wasn’t the most expensive restaurant ever, but one that was way out of your price range. It meant that you had to dip into the fund that you keep for occasions where you need a little extra money or you will use in the future when you eventually move out and busy your own place. 

The tube was crammed, seeing as though it was a Friday night and the majority of people were either coming home from work and stating to go out for end of the week drinks. You knew that the club would start to become heaving as the night grew and a part of you was thankful that you didn’t have to work today, and you were given a small break from the hell that is working at a strip club. 

The restaurant, when you arrived, definitely looked fancier than it had online. The bar stood against the corner wall, the right hand side of the restaurant had booths covering the walls whilst stand alone tables scattered around the rest of the room.

You were surprised when you saw Harry, already sat at the booth in the far right corner. He lifted his hand up in an awkward sort of wave and you couldn’t help but beam at him. He had a shirt, an expensive looking white shirt with a yellow and blue jumper over the top. You hand felt so excited to see someone since when your Grandma went into hospital for her tumour being removed and you couldn’t see her for a few days. 

“YN.” He sighs, “Hi.” 

“Hi.” You smile, slipping into the booth across from him. 

“Was starting to think you wasn’t going to show up.” 

“I’m sorry.” You tuck your hair behind your ear, “I underestimated how bust the tube was going to be.” 

You can tell he wants to pry but instead he says, “It’s okay.” 

His nails were painted yellow, a few of them painted lilac as well. There was something so simple about his nails that you just loved, and if it wasn’t weird you probably would’ve stared at them for way too long for it to be acceptable. You knew he had tattoos, and you could see the cross on his hand and the the anchor peaking out from underneath his shirt and you wanted to see more. 

“I like your nails.” You smile, running your own fingers over your own nails underneath the table. 

“Thanks.” A blush creeps up his neck, “I did them last night. Sort of calmed me down, I was quite nervous.” 

“Nervous for what?” 

“This.” He nods, “I haven’t been as nervous for a date in a long time.” 

“You don’t have to be nervous.” 

In your twenty four years of living, you’ve never had someone say that they were nervous to see you. You’ve been nervous to see and do many things in your life and you hoped that somewhere along the line it would’ve been the same for somebody else and yourself but you had the slight suspicion that wasn’t the case. Hearing those words out loud, coming from someone who you’d never expect it too was special, and you were going to keep that for as long as you physically could. 

“I did.” He looks down at the table briefly, “I’ve never liked a girl as much as I like you before.” 

“You don’t really know me.” 

“I’d like to get to know you.” 

That’s what you do. For the rest of the date you don’t stop talking. Even though you’re starving and could eat your fist, it takes you the longest you’ve ever taken to eat your food because of how much you spend it talking. 

You’re just about to dig in to your desert when your body physically halts, “Why didn’t you want me to pick you up?” 

“I, uh, I—”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t what to! I know I can be pretty invasive sometimes.” 

“No, it’s fine!” You take a sip of your drink to swallow down the dryness within your throat, “I don’t live in the nicest building, or in the nicest area and I guess I was embarrassed.” 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” 

“But I was.” You drop your eyes to the plate in front of you, “I know I shouldn’t have been and that it was stupid but I just didn’t want you judge me before you truly knew me because of where I live.” 

“I hope you know now that I wouldn’t have done that.” 

“I do.” 

You let Harry drive you home. Even though you would never admit it to his face just yet, you really liked him. He was kind, sweet and funny and everything you could ever want in your person. You haven’t said this in a long time but you love the person you are around him and you wouldn’t change it for the world if you didn’t have to. 

He stops in the car park outside the building of flats you live in and you can tell he’s thinking deeply about something but you try to not concentrate on that too much. 

“I would invite you up.” You laugh, “But I don’t think the sofa in the middle of my Grandma’s flat whilst she snores in the next room is the most romantic.” 

He scrunches up his nose, “I can’t say that it is.” 

“I’m sorry.” You drop your head to look at your hands that are tested on your knees, “I really wish I could offer you something. Anything.”

“It’s okay, YN.” He uses his finger to move your head up so that you’re looking at him, “I don’t expect anything from you. I hope you know that.” 

“I know.” 

He hesitates for a moment, and you can feel the finger that was rested upon your chin move upwards so that its upon your cheek. You flicker your eyes closed and just mask in the feeling of his touch against your cheek. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks. 

You eyes open as you nod your head, letting out a shaky breath at the sheer surprise you feel at his words.

“Want your words, darling.” 

“Please kiss me.”  

You close your eyes again and you feel his lips touch yours. It's light at first, but you can’t contain yourself and you end up pushing closer to him, relishing in the feeling of his lips upon yours. Your fingertips grip the collar of his shirt, trying to pull him closer without hurting himself too much on the centre console. Even though you both don’t want to, you pull away as you start to loose breath. 

“You okay?” Your chest heaves up and down as he speaks. 

“Never been better.” You sigh, resting your forehead against his. 

“Good.” 

You kiss again, this time its more passionate and you can’t help but let out a small whine as he pulls away. The smug look on his face after hearing that sound was enough to send your stomach doing flips. 

You really didn’t want to do this, but you had too: “I have to go.” 

“It’s okay.” He smiles, “I understand.” 

“Okay.” You reach for the door handle. 

“I have to go away for a bit.” He sighs, “I’m writing some music over in America but when I get back, do you want to maybe go on another date?” 

“I’d love to.” 

He presses one last kiss to your lips and you leave the car, muttering a small, “Bye.” 

You feel giddy. As though you’re sixteen again and just come back from your first date with your first boyfriend. It was something you hadn’t felt in a long time and in all honesty, you had no idea how to handle those feelings. You certainly wouldn’t admit that you screamed quietly into your pillow in excitement that night. 

You couldn’t wait for him to return home. 

Two weeks. Harry was away for two weeks and even though you had only kissed him once, twice if you actually count how many kisses there were, you missed him more than words could explain. You weren’t one to usually message first, so you did end up waiting until Harry had a spare moment to message you which wasn’t as often as you would’ve liked but you couldn’t complain. 

You almost felt as though you had been drip fed this new life with Harry in, only to have it taken away quicker than you could blink. It wasn’t forever, and that was probably the thing keeping you sane. This had all happened in such a short amount of time but you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

The only thing that limited how far you could take this was your job. 

Harry had obviously been curious and during a text conversation in the first week of his week being away — he asked what you did. After having a small freak out you decided to say that you worked in a bar. It was a small, white lie and you hated yourself for it but telling him that you were a stripper just didn’t feel like the best thing to do at that time. 

You just weren’t ready to tell him, and that was totally okay. 

Speaking of your work, tonight was the night of the big party that Elliot made sure you could come to. The club had held celebrity parties before, so you weren’t entirely nervous but every time someone mentioned it you could feel your heart speeding up slightly. 

“Emerald.” You turn to look at Elliot who’s trudging towards you, a bag in hand, “Here’s your new outfit for tonight.” 

“New? I thought I’d just wear the one for special occasions.” 

“This is a special, special occasion Emerald.” He dropped the bag down in front of you, “Wear this.” 

Taking the material out of the bag, your mouth dropped open at the sight of the emerald green lingerie in your hands. It was delicate lace that you feared you’d rip if you weren’t too careful. Putting it on, your breasts slightly spilled over the lace, and whilst your front was covered, the thong back of the lingerie left your ass on full display. It was beautiful, you couldn’t dismiss that but you just hadn’t ever worn something so skimpy before. You pulled your black silk robe over your shoulders, fastened your black heels onto your feet and made your way towards the side of the stage. 

The skimpiness of the new lingerie did send more butterflies to the pit of your stomach than you were originally hoping for but it was only another hurdle for you to get over which you knew you’d be able to do. 

You heard the music start to play, you slipped your hand through the gap in the curtain and opened it, revealing yourself to the room. 

Here goes nothing, you mumble to yourself. 

Harry’s jaw dropped at the sight of you on the stage. It certainly wasn’t his usual scene, a strip club, but it was a friend of a friends birthday and he had kindly been invited and he wasn’t about to turn it down. He wasn’t in the band anymore, and certainly didn’t have to hide that he went to places like this anymore, even though they weren’t his favourite. 

He couldn’t bare his eyes off of you. The way your body moved to the rhythm of the song, your darkly manicured nails pushed the robe of your shoulders, exposing the delicate lingerie you were wearing. Harry would be lying if he said that his cock didn’t start to stir at the sight. 

You. The girl who he thought spent her days reading, and looking after Grandma had a secret persona that he only wanted to explore more. 

“My word.” One of the men in the group spoke, loudly so that everyone could hear him, “She’s fit as fuck.” 

“To get my hands on her.” 

Harry clenches his jaw, and his fist that rested on the arm of his chair. If he wasn’t in a very public place where people could record him, he’d give that man a piece of his mind. He probably would but he’d do it when nobody was around so the man could truly understand what he was saying to him. 

“Do you think I could get a dance with her?” The birthday boy asked. 

“It’s your birthday.” The dickhead with no morals spoke, “She might give you something special as a present.” 

“The rules say no touching.” The words slip out of Harry’s mouth before he can stop them, “So I highly doubt that.” 

“I’m sure you’d be saying something different if you were in his position, Styles.” 

Harry rolled his eyes and focused his attention back on the stage, watching as you seductively bent down to pick up some of the tips that had been thrown on the bottom of the stage. The song was slowly finishing and Harry couldn’t help but feel a little bit of disappointment bubbling within him.

Harry watched your lean legs as you strutted towards the side of the stage, flicking the long wig on your head over your shoulder, seductively running your tongue over your bottom lip as you pulled the material of the lingerie down from your breasts. 

Harry bit his lip, his leg bounced, he ran his hand up and down his thigh. He tried to do everything in his power to distract himself from the rousing within his trousers but he just couldn’t do it. The flimsy material dropped to the floor, your red painted lips curled up into a smirk and you made your way behind the curtain, not showing any of your truly bare skin. 

If you hadn’t been imprinted on his brain before, you certainly were now.

You could hear the grunts and groans of happiness, and a few cheers whilst on stage but the lights were so bright that you couldn’t see anything past the first row or so. The tips you had received were good, and you were pleased about that. 

You received your robe and bra back from the stage and pulled them back onto your body. Your solo dance was always a hit for Elliot, and you supposed that was why he’s kept you on for so long and if you were honest, they were the easiest to do. Private dances always made you too uncomfortable, and in the six years you’ve worked there there had only been a handful of people that made you feel comfortable when it came to private dances. 

“Emerald.” Elliot walks in smiling and you assume everything is swell on the floor, “They fucking love you.” 

You nod your head, muttering a small and awkward, “Thank you.” 

He hums, “You’ve been requested for a private dance, and he’s promised to pay you accordingly.” 

“Really?” 

Another hum, “Room Two. I think he’s already there.” 

“Thanks.” 

He leaves the room, a bounce in his step. You suppose that this is a good thing and he’ll finally get off your back for the time you took off for the date with Harry. You at least hoped. 

You checked yourself. You made sure your makeup still looked flawless, your breasts sat perfectly within the material and your arse looked good. You brush through the wig once and make your way towards room two, the smaller of the three private dance rooms which helped it be more intimate. 

You smiled at the bouncer at the door, Gerry, a man who looked as though he could kill someone with a single punch but was actually a massive teddy bear. He was good at his job of keeping everyone safe and making sure that the bad eggs that came in left just as quickly. 

Watching the door slowly open, Harry felt his heart stop. He had been pacing up and down the room ever since he had walked in, and only just stopped when he heard the creek of the door. He couldn’t believe that you were in front of him, and you certainly couldn’t believe that he was in front of you either. 

“YN. . .” He sounded breathless. 

“Harry?” He could see your chest rising and falling at a quick pace, “What? How? I thought you were in America.” 

He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “I got back last night.” 

“Why are you here?” He can hear the lump in your throat as you speak, your eyes glossing over. 

“A Birthday party.” 

“Yours?” 

“No!” He’s quick to interrupt, “A friend of a friend. It’s not mine. Mine’s in February, and I certainly don’t think I’ll be having my party here. Not that there’s anything wrong with here! It’s lovely! You’re lovely! I’m rambling.” 

He was so gosh darn cute and if you weren’t in the middle of a break down, you probably would’ve laughed or at least reacted to his little word vomit. It was probably the quickest you’d ever heard him talk, not that it was hard. 

After a few minutes of contemplating what to say, you sigh, “I’m sorry.” 

His voice is soft, his features falling, “What are you sorry for?” 

“Lying to you.” You drop your gaze to the floor, trying to suppress the tears, “I didn’t want to.” 

“Hey, hey.” He walks over to you, placing his finger underneath your chin just like he had done in the car weeks ago, “No need to get upset, I’m not.” 

“You should be.” You bottom lip quivers, “I lied to you and I had no intention to retract that just yet.” 

“YN.” He rests his palms on your cheeks, “I’m not angry. I’m not upset. I just want to know why.”

“I was scared.” You admit, trying to do anything but look up at him, “I didn’t know what you’d think or if you’d change your mind.” 

“Change my mind about what?” 

“Wanting too, you know. . .?” 

He shakes his head, “I wouldn’t. There’s no reason for me to.” 

“I’m a stripper Harry, it gives you full reason to not want to be associated with me.” You lift your hand to wipe your under-eye. 

“I’m not judging you, YN, I said I wouldn’t.” 

“I wouldn’t be upset if you did.” 

“YN.” His voice is stern, more so than it had been, “I don’t care that you’re a stripper.” 

“You don’t.” 

“No.” He smiles, “I don’t.” 

“Fuck.” You let out a breath of relief, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” 

“I don’t mind.” He shrugs, “If you didn’t want to, you didn’t have to.” 

You had never met someone like him, and no matter how many times he surprised you that was just fact. Granted, you hadn’t had time to date anyone with looking after your Grandma but another reason you didn’t was because of what they would think of you. 

You knew that not everyone would be was understanding and lovely as Harry had been, and that was just because of the lovely person he was inside and out. That was the reason you didn’t tell him, because even though you had an inclination that he was accepting but you didn’t know whether that was just a façade or he was like that in real life. You loved that he was like that in real life. 

“Can I be honest?” You nod, “I enjoyed it.” 

You bite your lip to suppress the smile that threatened to cross your lips, “You did?” 

He hums, beaming a smile at you. 

“If you wouldn’t mind.” The corner of his lips tugs upwards, “I’d still love to get that private dance.”

You roll your eyes and thwack his shoulder playfully, “If you must.” 

“I’ll wait for you.” He nods, “Until your shift is over, if you want.” 

“Please.” 

“I’ll see you then.” 

You hadn’t even made it completely into Harry’s house before his lips were on yours. He pushed you up against his front door before he’d even shut it properly, his lips falling upon yours with a hunger you hadn’t felt since you last kissed him. 

Maybe it was his hands rested upon the small of your back, your fingers threading through the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“Can I offer you a drink?” He smirks against your lips. 

“Not the priority.” You reply, not bringing your lips away from his. 

“Noted.” He places a kiss to your jaw, “Upstairs?” 

“Upstairs.” 

You follow him up the stairs, your hand rested firmly in his. You’re too distracted by the man in front of you to take any notice of the house or where you were going. 

Harry had kept true to his word and waited for you. You secretly wished that you could have recorded the group’s reaction as you walked towards him, a small smile on your face. After bidding them goodbye, the two of you jumped in a taxi that Harry had ordered and made your way to his house, or what you expected to be his house and you weren’t disappointed. 

The second you step into the plushly decorated room, you’re kissing again. His hands slide down to rest upon curve of your ass, his ring-clad fingers immediately squeezing the flesh. You groan lightly into his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip through her parted lips. You grip his bicep as he leads your backwards into the room, your calves hitting the bed as he does so. 

Your lips part, you fall back onto the bed. You look up at him through your eyelashes, your fingertips reaching to pull the shirt he was wearing over his head. You almost swoon there and then at the sight of the tattoos littering his skin. You lean forward and place a kiss on his lower stomach, just before his happy trail that slips into the band of his trousers. 

You bite your lip, grinning up at him. 

“What are you planning?” 

“I don’t know.” You shrug, “What do you want me to be planning?” 

He groans, “Anything at this point.”

You reach forward, taking the button of his trousers in your fingers. You look up, “Is this okay?” 

“More than okay, baby.” 

You unbutton his trousers, wrapping your finger in the waistband and pulling them down. You can already see the tent in his boxers. You wondered how long he had been like this, you wondered if it had been since your dances. 

You blush slightly as you hook your fingers now into the waistband of his boxers, looking up at him. You can’t handle the look on his face, the slight blush but the boyish grin mixed with his curls that had fallen forward upon his forehead. You pull the fabric down, exposing his hard cock. You watch as it hits his stomach briefly, the tip swollen. You lift your hand up, wrapping it around him before giving him a few pumps. His stomach quivers as you do so, a groan escaping him as you wrap your lips around his tip. His eyes flutter closed as you start to bob your head, his fingers reaching forward to grab your hair into a ponytail. 

“Fuck baby.” His hips involuntarily buck forward. You sink further down, going as far as you could. 

Harry couldn’t believe how good he felt. It had been a while since he had been with someone, and it was worth the wait. You pulled away too soon in his opinion, but the sight of you, all teary eyed and sloppy sent his mind spiralling. 

“God.” He bent down and wrapped his arms around your thighs, lifting you up so he could move you further up the bed, “You’re fucking killing me here.” 

“Good.” You giggle. 

He’s quick to remove your shirt, allowing you to pull your jeans down at the same time. He didn’t expect you to still be in the lingerie from earlier, and if it was physically possible, he swore his cock hardened even more. 

“Fuck me.” 

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours again as his fingers fumble with the latch of your bra. You bite your bottom lip as he wraps his around your nipple, flicking it with his tongue. He uses his hand to knead the other one. You can’t help but grind your hips forwards, a feeling bubbling deep in the pit of your stomach that you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Harry.” You moan, withering under his touch. 

He kisses down from your lips, to your jaw, down your neck until he’s littering them all the way to the band of your underwear. 

“Is this okay?” 

“More than okay.” You whine as he lets out a breath upon the thin material. 

He pulls your underwear down, teasing you by placing kisses across your thighs and pubic bone. He’s so close, yet so far from the place that you need him the most. He licks a stripe across your centre, until he wraps his lips around your clit. You can’t help the moans that escape your parted lips as he nibbles and flicks your sensitive nub, her thighs starting to shake as he coaxes her closer and closer to her orgasm. 

“Don’t stop.” You thread your fingers through his hair, “God! Harry.” 

He pulls away, and you let out a shaky breath as he does so. 

“No fair.” You whine. 

“Life isn’t.” 

“Just shut up and get a condom.” He does as you request, placing a small peck to your lips as he reached over to grab a condom from the drawer beside the bed. 

You watch as he rips the packet open with his teeth, pulling the rubber down his length. He presses another kiss to your lips, catching her eyesight once more.

“Are you sure?” 

“More than okay.” 

He hovers over you, rubbing his tip up and down your wet folds to coax a moan out of your lips. He groans into your shoulder as he pushes in, biting down briefly to suppress the sound. 

“Don’t.” You moan, scratching your nails down his back as he starts to thrust in and out of you, “Let me hear you.” 

“Fuck.” You squeeze him slightly, “Do that again.” 

He speeds up, catching your lips as your hips meeting quicker, the only sound in the room being your skin slapping each others. You slip one of your hands between the two of you, your nimble fingers rubbing your clit. 

“Where have you been all my life?” You can’t help the pleasurable giggle that escapes your lips. 

“Feel so good, H.” 

After a few more thrusts, a couple more circles of her clit and she’s comes around his cock, squeezing him tightly as she did so. 

“Fuck, shit, oh god.” 

He continues to thrust in and out of you, coaxing you through your orgasm and towards his. He seems to go deeper and deeper until he’s spilling inside the condom, his moans louder than any you had heard before. 

“God.” He collapses on top of you, taking a few seconds to collect himself and let you collect yourself, “Haven’t felt like that in a long time.” 

“Glad I could be of some assistance.” You push the hair that had matted to your face off. 

“You should keep secrets from me more often.’ 

“I’m never doing that again.” 

“Good.” He pecks your lips. 

[miru-n]

★A3! BD Scout has begun!★

The June Birthday Premium Tryouts have begun! Today (6/5) is your only chance to get a birthday-themed SSR of Miru! Or is it? Check in-game for all the details!

I usually just do silly doodles for my birthday, but hey, spoiling myself is not bad every once in a while hehe

Imma rambles about my self insert and what i put on these fake Glitter card, this will be long so no need to read this~

First, I'll talk about flower motif!

I choose hydrangea as my flower motif for my a3 self insert.

Hydrangea is one of my favorite flower, along with Hyacinth and Orchid.

My knowledge on hanakotoba is basically 0 lol but i feel like hydrangea resonates more with me, both the positive meanings (desire to understand others, sincerity/honesty) and the negative meanings (boastful, distant, bitter, regret).

When I was a kid, grandma told me the story about the Japanese emperor used the flower to show how sincere he is on his apology to his wife? Someone idk. And she also told me that one story someone burried a dead body and then bright colorful hydrangeas started to bloom on the patch where the body got burried. The duality lol

I also love this fun fact about hydrangea because honestly? Mood. I'm needy and clingy, so i love affection ww. But if you shower me with too much love? I go bye-bye lol

I had a hard time making the symbol of the flower for the card that fits with the other characters flower symbol, but i managed to make with the same style. I used photos bellow as my reference

Second, backgrounds for the unbloom card!

Drama card because other June boys' Glitter cards are Comedy and Action. Ok easy.

When making the card, I keep in mind if I can stitch my card with other characters.

Green on left because previous birthday in a3 was Citron. Yellow on left because Misumi's birthdaybis next after mine (mine's 5th June, his is 6th hehe).

The star balloons is such a coincidence on technical wise lol. Misumi got them on his unbloom card, that's one of the excuse why I put those. But! I love stars so it works out well when making my unbloom card lol. I love stars, but I can't identify any star or constellation if my life depends on it ww the only constellation I know is Gemini. Which is a coincidence because it's also my zodiac. So that's why from all the random balloon stars and the glittery star accessories on the background, you can spot Gemini on bottom left.

If you see on bottom right, you might notice something that does not look like a star or constellation.

It's the symbol of High Priestess. Besides star, I also love tarot ww. I was so into tarot on my middle school era and still got a deck of tarot cards on my table (blame Persona 3). Everytime I do a tarot reading by myself, from random internet quiz, from an actual tarot reader, that fucking card always pops out. And the way it reads always pissed me off www even more pissed because everyone I know said 'yeah that's so you/oof that sounds just like your luck'. WTF DOES THAT MEAAAN AHDJDKAKA. Anyway my self insert arcana on Persona Series is The High Priestess so... LOL

Purple is one of my favorite color (besides yellow, red and black). So I just decide purple as the background color

And last but not least, the bloomed card!

Tried to do the same concept of using mirror to symbolize my zodiac like the other June boys.

Why is the glass art contains Mondrian art and not just my flower motif like other characters? I want something obnoxious to scream 'hello i'm an artist' lol. I wanted to do Alphonse Mucha art (since he is my favorite old timer artist) with beautiful hydrangeas as the glass art.

........But i still love my hands ok, not today carpal tunnel. So I noped out and settle with Mondrian instead (flashback to uni year where I got assignment to mimick your favorite artist and god do I regret loving Alphonse Mucha's art. Atleast I got A on that class so it paid off 🕺)

The gold patterns on my Glitter outfit is a Batik pattern! Hohoho Indonesia History time for anyone who still read up to this point! I took Batik class on uni and worked as Lecturer Assistant y'all better listen to me or I'll kick your kneecaps.

It’s loosely based from Batik Truntum! It’s from Java, and means ‘love and loyalty’ or ‘loves that blooms again’. History wise, the royalty family give this Batik to someone they love, trying to court or just a gift to family. The name Truntum itself came from the word ‘Taruntum’, which means ‘to grow/bloom again’. There’s so many romance stories behind this Batik. But this one I found so fucking funny because a king is trying to marry a new woman (idk the english, you know, when king got married millions of women?). His queen got so sad, so she started making a Batik to cheer herself up. She ended up loving the result and gave it to the king as a present. Then the king goes ‘damn she gave me this Batik, that means she’s loyal. looks like I won’t marry another women’ wwwwww

For the outfit, hoodie is because I love wearing one even when it’s 45 degree celcius outside lmao dont judge me.

The ring is what i usually wear. It’s a promise ring. The ring cost 1$ tho LOL that’s how cheap my promise is, so don’t hold onto any of my promise ww

The scarf that wrap around my body is... kinda sentimental symbol. I’d rather not explain that one ww maybe one day!

That’s all! If you read it all till this part, thank you so much ww

[gyllenhaalstories]

GRATITUDE & ATTITUDE — THANKSGIVING WITH RAPPER!JAKE HEADCANONS.

anonymous asked:  what would rapper jake be like at Thanksgiving?

warnings: confused canadian tries to understand american thanksgiving, multiple mentions of food/eating, daddy kink, brief mentions of smut (as usual).

notes: i apologize if i’m not representing thanksgiving properly, i tried to do as much research as possible though! for those who don’t have this holiday/don’t associate with the religious aspects of it (like me!), this is pretty much focused on family gatherings and food, so you’re good! i found the gifs in a gif hunt and idk who made them, i’m sorry i can’t credit the creators. i was listening to mirrorball by taylor swift and glee’s let’s have a kiki/turkey lurkey so... yeah don’t vibe with me this time! happy thanksgiving to everyone who celebrate it! <3

food. this holiday was about food and nobody could tell rapper!jake otherwise.

the mountain of grocery bags and produce in the kitchen proved his point. he was determined to turn into all of those friendly people he watched on food network. you know, the kind eyed grandmas and the men with funky glasses? he even got an aprin. and new oven mits in which his hands actually fit. he had all of the recipes printed out on paper, then taped on the cabinets�� doors. he had the biggest smile on his face.

“when we’ll have kids, imma cook them yummy dinners every night.” he greeted you with this promise when you walked in the kitchen, rubbing your tired eyes.

you checked the clock on the microwave. it was 8: 20 am.

jake caught up on your confusion. “i waited in the parking lot to be the first person there as they open, ordered all the food online last night when you were sleeping. i picked up a cute table center piece on my way back. isn’t it lovely?”

lovely. that’s not a word he used often.who was this man and where was your boyfriend?

you turned your head and found a very autumn looking arrangement of candles and wood and other golden elements. you nodded slowly, approving of his choice.

you turned your heels, ready to go back to bed and ignore the upcoming chaos in the kitchen as lil chef jakey-jake was about to cook for an entire army.

“don’t you wanna be a good girl and help daddy cook for your parents?”

soon enough you two were wearing matching aprins, you had jake’s hands printed in flour on your butt as he fed you slices of apple while putting the pie together.

it was barely two in the afternoon and everything was ready or finishing to cook. jake made sure to let you taste test everything. he didn’t want you to be too full, so he let you snack on some froot loops around lunch time. he couldn’t deal with a hangry hostess, tonight was too special for that!

you started to yawn and get cranky and quite frankly, he was not doing any better.

“let’s nap before we feast like royalty” he suggested.

you cleaned the kitchen at the speed of lightning.

jake grabbed your hand and pulled you upstairs. he tucked you in. you spooned him, hiding your hands under his t-shirt to keep them warm as you too quickly fell asleep. he was too exhausted to laugh at your cold fingers toasting against his skin.

the alarm ran so loud that jake jumped off the bed (he caught himself before falling on the floor).

“wake up, buttercup.”

you earned a kiss on your temple, basically the only corner of skin exposed from under the blankets.

you growled in response, missing the warmth of his body.

“oh, is that so? you’re not gonna let daddy make you feel good in the shower?”

won’t you look at that, your pyjama was tossed on the floor, steam was leaving the glass shower and your back was pressed against the tiles as jake held you up and fucked into you, slow and deep.

“stuffin’ you up so good” jake laughed, as both of you were close to your release.

you exploded in laughter, jake echoing your gleeful giggles. he went to rub your sensitive clit and a few seconds later, you were screaming out his name.

the two of you got dressed. he wore a black shirt. you wore something that matched. you put on light makeup and perfume as jake watched your reflection on the steamy mirror, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“tonight is going to be perfect.” you reassure him, making him grin.

the door bell rang and jake ran down the stairs. he let you fix his rebellious collar and press a kiss on the tip of his nose.

the door slammed open. “mom, dad! so good to see you!” jake greeted your parents, remembering how you introduced them to him the first time.

another wave of laughter. jake noticed that you had the same happy wrinkles at the corner of your eyes as your mother. he loved that new detail about you.

“gather around, the food is ready!” jake said and your mom offered to help him serve the plates. he accepted, thankful for an extra pair of hands.

the table was quickly covered with mashed potatoes, chicken (he didn’t want to roast a whole turkey for the four of you), roasted veggies, salad, gravy, bread and basically everything you could think of (he kept the froot loops on the counter in case you didn’t like his newfound recipes).

jake buttered a slice of bread for you, earning a smile from your father.

you gave him a bite of stuffing and the two of you laughed at his cheesy dirty talk from earlier.

jake leaned closer to your ear, when your parents discussed some encounter with wild turkeys they had on their way home. it was picturesque, but jake’s words snapped you out of this reverie.

“all the food is good, but your pussy’s still my favourite flavour.”

you choked on your sip of hot apple cider for a quick second.

this man had no shame.

rapper!jake started to talk to your dad about the hockey season. and to your mom about the carrot cake recipe he found that he wanted to make with her.

you blinked away a happy tear.

the rest of thanksgiving dinner went smoothly. you guys went to watch television, some old scenes of charlie brown were playing. jake switched to music instead, the smooth jazz of louis armstrong brought your dad to invite you for a slow dance around living room. jake did the same with your mother.

eventually, you tried to switch partners and your dad ended up dancing with jake. they both went all in, suddenly thinking they were in a royal ballroom.

it was after the four of you stopped laughing that your mother suggested they drove back home.

it had started to snow outside, pretty hard.

“why don’t you stay? we have a guest room.”

the we made you feel all happy inside. it was jake’s house, he worked so hard to afford it. yet, he considered it yours too.

“we don’t want to bother the lovebirds!” your mom tried to deny the invitation.

“family is never a reason to be bothered.”

these words came from jake.

the same jake who, not too long ago, didn’t even speak to his own family. he didn’t want to have anything to do with them.

the same jake who was about to break down at the thought of meeting your parents.

the same jake who thought would never have a family of his own.

your parents smiled and thanked the both of you.

jake gave your dad some merch and sweatpants for sleep wear. your mom took your favourite pyjama set.

they were fast asleep.

and you thought jake would be too, after such an exhausting day of running around.

“what are you thinking about, my love?” you asked.

jake shrugged, moving his arm so you could snuggle up against him. you rested your head on his naked chest. the beat of his heart was peaceful, almost enchanting.it was your favourite musi.

“we didn’t say what we were thankful for.” he remembered the essential tradition of thanksgiving.

“then say it now.” you chuckled softly.

“i’m thankful for you,” he poked your nose, making you scrunch it adorably. “thankful i get to see you smile, get to hug you and kiss you, get to sing to you until you sleep...”

he kept going with millions of other details.

“i’m thankful for the wonderful human that you are, jacob.”

strangely, he was both tearing up and getting a boner at the same time. you can’t blame him, there’s something very hot about being open and vulnerable.

you moved on top of him, trailing kisses on his jawline and neck, on that sweet spot that drove him wild right under his ear. you painted his collarbone with more kisses.

your pace slowed down, your body was falling against his.

he wrapped his arms around you, making sure you were safe and sound as he heard you snoring slightly.

he laughed through his nose, not bothering to turn the lamp off.

he opened his mouth one last time that evening, to whisper those three magical words:

“i love you.”

[collecting-stories]

Tattoo - Pope  Heyward

Request: maybe one where pope impulsively gets a tattoo? idk i feel like he would be so funny and then start panicking once he realized what he did

A/N: I really liked writing this and I squeezed in a Heathers reference. 

Outer Banks Masterlist

///

When the acceptance letter came in the mail Pope had almost cried, everything he’d ever worked for was right there in his hands. The question of paying for that future was still up in the air but he’d applied for some many scholarships he was sure he had carpal tunnel from typing up essays.  

“You need to just let yourself be excited.” You scolded when he brought up paying for college again.  

“I am excited.” He replied, spinning in his office chair so that he could face you, “I’m just also being realistic. There’s nothing to be excited about if I can’t go.”

You groaned at him, falling back on his bed and staring up at the ceiling, “enough money talk, let’s do something fun.”

“Like what?” He asked, “everything costs money.”

“You are the worst person to be celebratory with.” You replied, standing up, “but I think I know what we can do.”

“What?”  

“Just come on,” you grabbed his hand, trying to pull him out of his chair so he would follow you.  

“Tell me what it is and that it isn’t illegal.” He said, refusing to move. He wasn’t going with you to try and convince the cashier that you were old enough to buy alcohol or something along those lines.  

“No and no.”  

“No it isn’t illegal or no you won’t tell me if it is or not?” He asked, finally letting you drag him along.  

“No, I won’t tell you.” You replied. “It’s more fun this way.”  

“For who?” Pope asked as he climbed in the passenger seat of your car with little prompting from you. Despite his complaints he willingly did what you asked, following along in your plan to supposedly both celebrate and cheer him up.  

“For you.” You said, “obviously. Because I’m a nice person and I love you.”  

“I feel like you want me to tell you how lucky I am but I’m gonna be totally honest I don’t feel lucky right now.” Pope replied.  

“Unbelievable.” You gasped, looking over at your boyfriend, “here I am, pouring my heart out-”

“Not looking at the road!”

“And you have the nerve to tell me you don’t love me?”

“Seriously,” Pope leaned over, grabbing the wheel and swerving the car, “and I didn’t say I didn’t love you, I said I was unlucky to be stuck with you.”

“Stuck with me?”  

“Do you want me to drive?” He asked as he swerved the car again.  

“We’re almost there!” You smacked his hand away from the steering wheel and glared at him, “stop being a Debbie Downer.”

“Debbie Downer? Okay, grandma.”  

You stuck your tongue out at him as you cut the wheel and turned into the driveway of a house on the cut. Pope recognised the house as your cousins and immediately started shaking his head, knowing already what you were here for.

“No, absolutely not. I am not tattooing my skin!” Pope protested, shaking his head.  

“You don’t have to!” You replied, rolling your eyes at his antics. “I was coming anyway and now you can choose my tattoo.”

“I’m celebrating by choosing the tattoo that you put on your body?”

You got out of the car, coming around to Pope’s side and turning your back to him, pulling your shirt up just enough to show off the small of your back. “I mean I was gonna get a tattoo right here that said Pope’s Bitch but-”

“Stop it!” He laughed, shoving you forward, “that’s terrible.”

“You rile so easy babe,” you look at him over your shoulder as you head in, smiling when he sticks his tongue out at you.  

Inside your cousin had turned his kitchen into a tattoo studio. You had been there with Kiara plenty of times for stick and poke tattoos but this was the first time you’d come with Pope. Your boyfriend was not the spontaneous type and he didn’t do things like tattoos though he would never complain about yours. Once you were all situated in the chair and your cousin was setting up the tattoo gun, Pope looked through some of the sketches he had in a binder.  

“What’s the verdict?” You asked, looking over at him.  

“What’s that thing you like?” Pope replied, still staring at the designs. “That quote?”

“Which quote?”  

“The one from that dumb movie you always make me watch.” He said, grabbing a piece of paper and writing something down. “This?” He asked, holding it up for you to see.

“Yeah, why?”  

He turned to your cousin, showing him the quote, “can you do this? In my handwriting?” He asked.

“Yeah totally, no problem.”

Pope nodded and then handed you the paper and pen, “here.”

“What am I doing?”

“I want the same thing. In your handwriting, on my rib.” He said, unable to stop from smiling as you smiled at him.  

It didn’t take long for your cousin to finish both of you. Four words in your scroll on his ribs and the same four words just below your bikini string in Pope’s handwriting. You were still admiring yours in the mirror when Pope came over, putting his head on your shoulder and meeting your eyes in the mirror.  

“I can’t believe I just did that.” He said, moving so he could see the tattoo.  

“Niether can I.” You laughed, fingers brushing against his ribs, just below the tattoo. “It’s super hot though.”  

“And I’ll be super dead when my dad sees this.” He replied, “I just got into college, I should be more mature not less. How am I supposed to be taken seriously as a professional someday if I’ve got a tattoo?”

“Well, assuming you aren’t whipping your shirt off while you’re working or something-”

“I’m being serious!” Pope said, moving closer to the mirror.  

You pouted, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and kissing his back. “It’s barely noticeable, you’ll be fine. Besides, now when you leave me to go to college everyone will know you’re off limits.”  

“I’m off limits but I’m getting far enough with someone that I have my shirt off?” He asked, tilting his head back.

“I’m assuming you just lift the shirt up.” You replied, peeking around his arm body to look at him in the mirror, “Like you could have this but I’m taken.”  

“Okay, you’re delusional and I’m gonna get murdered when I get home!”

“Chill, your parents are never gonna see it.”

“They will...they’ll see it and I’ll die before I even get the chance to graduate high school.” He replied.

You let go of him only grab his hands and turn him to face you, expert pout on your lips. “Do you really hate it that much?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

Pope sighed, “no. I don’t hate it. I just can’t believe I got a tattoo.” He said, looking down at it. You smiled, glancing down at the matching tattoos yourself. Mirrored on your ribs and his was your favorite line from your favorite movie, that Pope had chosen, unprompted.  

Our love is God.  

-

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[sumeshi-t]

random 1AM horny thots: the boi's reaction when seeing fem!s/o get a food baby after eating too much lol

characters: oikawa and ushijima (for now; might add a few more later on 😙✌🏻)

aksjdjajh pls enjoy my midnight brain vomit. i know this ain't too good and idk if it's been done before or not but oh well, here it goes 🥵

im shy but ackck im gon tag u @seijoh 🥺 i hope u feel better and sleep well tonite

Oikawa Tooru:

you surprised your bf by going to argentina so you could celebrate his birthday together

you asked help from some of his teammates he's told you about, and they were in on the surprise.

the moment you entered the gym where they trained, he hits a powerful serve, fueled by his excitement after just seeing a glimpse of you from the corner of his eyes. he got a service ace from that, even you were sure it was over 110km/h

then this boy just runs up to you, trapping you in his embrace, your feet off the ground and spinning you around

then comes the cake his teammates got him, someone on the side was actually recording all this. he was already peppering your face with kisses and you two just looked so damn happy even the coach was smiling wtf

so anyway, you guys go out that night and eat

oikawa tells you what food he likes, and what he thinks you were gonna like and he's so spot on like he knows you so well he even brings out the 100% out of your tastebuds—

lol

you were so full from all the food, so full from the love, attention, and affection your boyfriend was showering you that you felt "drunk"

trust me that shit happens. y'know, like food coma? yeah, you ate a lot and it feels like you actually got high on sum dr*gzz

it was time to call it a night, you gave the team some japanese souvenirs as a way of thanking them, not just about tooru's bday, but also because they're taking care of your man really well 🥺

oikawa brings you back to his apartment, apologizes for not having cleaned up and you say you didn't mind because really, it wasn't that dirty or like the jungle-type madness but even then, he goes straight up to at least making the place neat for the two of you so he cleans some of his mess

there was a full body mirror on the far wall, it reflects his bed and him moving about behind you. you were checking yourself out and you ended up chuckling

you put a hand on your low back and another to rub your belly. you were wearing such a body-hugging outfit so the food baby was hella obvious

"look tooru, i'm pregante," you laugh at your own joke and continue to rub your belly

oikawa lichrally stops. and just stares. at your smiling face then down to where your hands were placed.

this boy gulps. why was he feeling so thirsty all of a sudden-?

when you didn't hear him respond, you turn to look at him and he was already making his way toward you.

he wraps his arms around you, hands on your belly. there was no music but you two were swaying to the sound of each other's heartbeats.

without a word, his lips went straight for your neck, nipping and sucking; his hot breath tickling your sensitive skin, hands busy touching you everywhere.

you see him smirk while whispering, "seeing you like that babe, it just makes me want to knock you up so bad,"

next thing you know you were both naked on the bed, facing the mirror

you were on your knees, watching yourselves as your boyfriend took you from behind, your back arched against his chest while his hand gripped on your neck and the other firm against your hickey-filled abdomen; cum was already leaking out of your abused hole you actually lost count how many times the two of you came—

this was a fulfilling kind of feeling full.

and sure enough, you were bringing home with you a different kind of surprise when you went back to japan.

Ushijima Wakatoshi:

it was The Grandma Ushijima's 80th birthday

yeah that lady who wanted to correct your boyfriend's left handedness. she's still alive n kicking

yours and ushijima's schedules were freed up for a few days to help out in the celebration and of course, you stay in the Ushijima ancestral home

yes, ancestral home. tatami mats and all. but high quality ones with silk covers and stuff.

his family didn't mind having you two sleep in the same room; bc ngl they've been wanting a great grandchild.

the sooner the better

like fuck marriage, they want to see results first.

in the three days you spent there, you notice how yours and wakatoshi's tea is different, like is that some kinda ginseng floating around there-? type of different

or how they dug up all of his cute baby pics aww, look at his cute bare bottom

i also hc wakatoshi used to thumbsucc the left thumb it b cute and adorable, you were gushing until whoever was talking to you say that they can't wait to see him have a son or a daughter

anyway, the party soon came along

wakatoshi loved it when he saw you playing with the cousins' children, and how much you just fit in with the family

if he could, he'd have gotten on his knee there to propose, though he didn't have a ring... also, he didn't want to steal the spotlight from his grandma

sometimes he wonders if you were actually a long lost relative

bc also goddamn, your cooking is *chef's kiss* top notch, michelin chef, gordon ramsay approved

and what better way to reward yourself for a job well done is to self-appreciate the craft you yourself created

needless to say, your big appetite got yourself a big food baby after dinner

thus it was now bedtime, children were now asleep, other relatives already back in their own homes

this was the last night you two were staying over

you were lying on your side, face to face with wakatoshi; you were the one mostly doing the talking, jumping from family matters to his volleyball career

then your hand idly rested on your belly, rubbing it, and then you laugh, recalling the encounter you had with some of the Ushijima elders and aunts

"toshi, they really want me to get pregnant so bad. do you think they'll stop pestering me if i show myself like this?" you pat your food baby belly and snicker

his eyes wander towards your belly and he just froze in his spot

the sight of and the prospect of you carrying his child in that body of yours just flipped a switch inside of him. he reaches for your face, eyes now locked with yours. you melt under his big, warm hand, unaware of the brewing storm of emotions your boyfriend was having

"y/n"

"hmm?"

"i think the aunts are right,"

"what...?"

"i... want you to have my child, but... do you?"

which basically translates into "i want to fuck your brains out, may i?"

consent is sexy mhhm

he's so gentle, so careful with his movements, he treats your body like a sacred temple, his every kiss a wordless declaration of worship;

this baby bear was honestly just afraid of breaking you because he knows after that night, wakatoshi jr. will be next who's going to stir up your insides to make space for its growth

you really had to beg him, "more, harder!"

you really had to taunt him, "how are you gonna make me pregnant if you don't go deeper–oh,"

wakatoshi let go of the last string of self-control he had, that your face was pushed against the tatami mat, ass in the air, your hips slapping against each other

you oh-so-tried not to make much noise, but you knew how much wakatoshi loved that

you were sure that anyone who happened to pass by that room was gonna be so embarrassed yet so elated at the huge possibility of having another member to The Ushijima clan

[shananigans402]

1-65 will do, please. Thanks fuck face :)

I knew exactly who this was and I was so tempted to not reply, but your punishment is having to read through all my answers and remember them forever or you fail the friend test. To everyone else, please do not click unless you want to be very bored, my answers are not interesting lol

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you? Nope

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you? Assuming 5 is the most, 1. Maybe 2. 

3. The person you would never want to meet? The person who sent me this (jk I’m excited for our eventual meet up where we hit up a strip club first thing 🙏)

4. What is your favorite word? I answered with ‘conniption’ the other day and still have not found a word I like more.

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be? Already answered this, fruit tree! I also like palm trees, maple trees, and willow trees. I know that’s not the question, I’m just saying random shit now.

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought? It took me a long while to remember where I was this morning. I honestly don’t remember, I was rushing to get ready for an early morning meeting.

7. What shirt are you wearing? My Orlando Strong shirt 

8. What do you label yourself as? Lesbian

9. Bright room or dark room? Bright room

10. What were you doing at midnight last night? Sleeping? Possibly checking on a feverish little beeb who was going through it with her second dose of the vaccine.

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far? No idea. I like various ages for different reasons, but this age so far is not bad. 

12. Who told you they loved you last? Probably my sister 🤷‍♀️

13. Your worst enemy? The person who sent this ask.

14. What is your current desktop picture? The apple pic of Catalina island that changes based on time of day (yes it’s the default, don’t judge me)

15. Do you like someone? Lol yeah I hope so 😂

16. The last song you listened to? Pretty Girl by Hayley Kiyoko 

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up? Definitely @raginage

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face? I feel like I can only attack Raginage so many times. Can I pick a fictional character? This week I was real mad at Dave in The Darkness. BaBe!​

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do? Lol no one, you’re talking to a person who feels very uncomfortable with anyone doing anything nice for them.

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional) Not this again. Last time I said eyes? Still no pics, sorry

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do? What would I look like? Do I get to design myself like a sim? I honestly don’t know what I’d do because I doubt the world needs another clueless white man walking around, so maybe just stay at home. 

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it? Nope. And my last answer to this was awful. I do think I have a fantastic ability to annoy my friends but in a way that’s just amusing/endearing enough to make them still want to talk to me 😌

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of? Unique? Uhm well my two big fears are confined spaces and deep water so a submarine is like my worst nightmare.

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal. Oh this is going to sound so odd. To be clear, I’ve had better sandwiches, but my go-to is provolone, turkey, roast beef, and spicy brown mustard or whole grain mustard. Please don’t judge me.

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it? Travel budget for future trips to visit my buds and get into trouble and eat food. I know $100 won’t go far, but it’s something.

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go? Well, after my last answer I want to visit my friends! But there are too many people to visit and I only have one ticket. So change of plans. I’m going on a solo trip to Greece. Or Argentina. Or Iceland. Or Bali. Damn, I’m indecisive. 

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be? Rabble red blend. Just a solid red wine. Also because @viola-lloyds stole my answer the other day (Juneshine; to be fair I asked her this question but whatever) and I don’t want to copy her.

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? Oh I answered this one, something about respecting others. Yeah, a nice rule like that. Want to establish some healthy communication on this island.

29. What is your favorite expletive? It’s still fuck

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno? But what about my PLANTS. Can they count as loved ones? Probably my laptop, I know that’s lame but like...I have a lot of stuff on here. Or the collection of cards I have that my granddad drew little drawings in, I want to get them all framed.

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? To be honest, I don’t know if I’d change big life events in case it altered the trajectory of where I ended up. So idk maybe the ending of Bly, let’s give those lesbians have a happy ending!

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world! Italy! But wait, let’s get back to this sleeping with celebrities and super-powers bit...

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back? Oh that’s a really tough question. I always wanted to meet my great-grandma Olga because she seemed like a really awesome lady. 

34. What was your last dream about? I can’t remember, this is bothering me because I wish I could! I’m sorry. My gf recently had a dream where I kissed a dude right in front of her. It made us both very uncomfy lol

35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]? I hate this question because I can only think of one thing.

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital? For surgery, yeah

37. Have you ever built a snowman? But of course!

38. What is the color of your socks? Not wearing any? I was wearing blue ones earlier. Jfc my answers are so boring.

39. What type of music do you like? Lots! I tend to listen to indie, classic rock, and some pop

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets? Sunsets!

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor? Chocolate or a variant (chocolate peanut butter, chocolate caramel)

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer) LA Rams or Seattle Seahawks. I know they’re in the same division. It’s tough. (Please don’t ask me why these teams)

43. Do you have any scars? Yep, mostly from burning myself on ovens. I simply get too excited for my food.

44. What do you want to be when you graduate? I...have graduated? 

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? Well bestie recently said I have “lesbian hands” and I think that’s code for man hands so maybe that hahaha

46. Are you reliable? I try to be!

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be? How many more times will I watch The Darkness before I learn my lesson? (Related: When does other bestie finally admit to her fetish?)

48. Do you hold grudges? Not typically, no

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create? A dog and an otter? Can we domesticate otters? No, a horse and a large bird, create a pegasus and then free travel.

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had? Oh god. I don’t even know where to start today tbh. Damie and pokemon and cosycon and looming and feet and [redacted] and developing apps for VP. So many fantastic conversations. 

In real life, probably the time I was at a laundromat in Italy and this guy wandered in with a beer, sat next to me and my male roommate, assumed we were a couple, and proceeded to give us bizarre life advice. I wish I could remember more of it, but it was so odd.

51. Are you a good liar? Hmm I’m okay at it I think, that is, I can convince people I’m serious when I’m actually joking. But I don’t like actually lying if it’s not just teasing someone. 

52. How long could you go without talking? Probably a few days if I had to.

53. What has been you worst haircut/style? The haircut I got before studying abroad! It was too short and I was so sad.

54. Have you ever baked your own cake? For a birthday? No. For fun? Absolutely.

55. Can you do any accents other than your own? Not well, no

56. What do you like on your toast? Butter and/or honey and/or jam

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of? My beautiful depiction of a scene of chapter one of Private Dancer. 

58. What would be you dream car? An electric car of some sort. I don’t know enough about cars tbh

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain. Nope but sometimes I’ll play music and dance and maybe softly sing.

60. Do you believe in aliens? Yep! Definitely 

61. Do you often read your horoscope? Almost never unless someone sends it to me.

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet? Already answered, A

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons? Dinosaurs! 🦕

64. What do you think about babies? What do I think about them? They’re pretty cool. Just tiny little humans. 

65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of. I was very nice and let you correct your mistake and submit one after the fact:

In your opinion what is the best thing you can cook, like your speciality? My favorite thing to make is pasta, I started making my own sauce and I’d love to make pasta from scratch sometime.

[greatfay]

since ur answering asks and shit can u explain what u meant by generational differences in communication

Damn it’s like 2015 tumblr when my inbox used to be WET. So if you’re talking about the controversial opinions post, YES, like I totally understand where people are coming from when they say that generational divides aren’t real (because they aren’t, they’re arbitrary) and distract us from real problems and yes they paint past generations as collectively bigoted when Civil Rights protestors in the 60s (who are in their 70s and 80s now) are mirrors to BLM protestors today, who could be of any age, but the most vocal and famous (at least online, especially irt to the founders, like Patrisse Cullors who is 37.

But how we communicate is sooooo different. I really point to the Internet and Social Media as a major influence in how younger millennials (more Tom Hollands and less Seth Rogans—see even there, I feel like there are two different types of Millennials) and Gen Zrs/Zoomers and even Generation Alpha behave and communicate. We live in a world where we grew up either knowing right out the gate or discovering the hard way that what we say and do has permanence, the kind of permanence that prior generations have never experienced until today. The dumb things kids have been saying since forever can now follow them... forever. We have an inherent understanding of how online spaces work. Compare that to, idk, let’s say you posted on your Facebook (for the first time in 18 months) “All these big and bad grown ass Senators going after actual child Greta Gerwig lol ok, you’re so brave for attacking a CHILD over climate change” and then your aunt, who’s turning “forty-fifteen” in May replies to your post with “So happy to see my passionate niece! Much love from us, hope you’re doing well. Paul is doing great, waiting on his screening results. Tell your mom I said we miss her, we need to get together, we forgive her for last Christmas.”

Like... ok there’s a lot going on there, but your hypothetical aunt is oversharing on a publicly accessible post. And even with the most strict of privacy settings, she’s oversharing where your other Facebook friends (which may include classmates, coworkers, etc.) can see. But she’s saying things that would only be appropriate in a 1-on-1 conversation. This Aunt doesn’t have an understanding of such boundaries, she’s not as technologically literate and hasn’t grown up in a world of Virtual Space, she still gets most of her news from TV, she trusts what a reporter on Channel 4 will read off a script more than what actual video footage of an incident might reveal on Twitter, and she has no clue that she’s been sharing her location data with every post she makes.

There’s such a huge difference. I think it even affects how we experience and express stress and frustration. I think growing up partially in online spaces has made me more accustomed to conflict and consequence-free arguing than someone who never had to worry about that. I’ve been exposed so much to harassment and bullying, triangulating and echo chambers in forums and threads, and vastly opposing point of views at such an early age that it’s had an effect on how I see the world. Compare this to a customer I helped two weeks ago who was looking for a specific type of supplement for children. I found it for her, I handed her exactly what she was looking for, even though her description of the product actually matched several different products; to make sure I’d done my job thoroughly and that she leaves happy and satisfied and doesn’t bother me again, I then show her more products that match her description so that she knows she has options. And she proceeds to freak out, saying “NO, NO, I’M LOOKING FOR [X] AND IT HAS TO BE [XYZ]” and when I say freak out, she looked stressed and PANICKED. And being a retail employee wears you down bit by bit, and add COVID on top of it and little shit like this makes you snap, sometimes. So I have to cut her off like “Why are you screaming and freaking out, jfc you’re holding what you said you wanted. It’s in your hands. I gave you what you wanted, I’m just showing you more things.”

That customer is not an exception, she’s not a unique case. She’s representative of a frightening percentage of her generation, the kids who watched Grease and The Breakfast Club and Ghost in theaters when they were originally released. This is how they communicate and process information. She could not, for some reason, register that her need had been fulfilled, and defaulted to an extreme emotional response when given new and different information.

I’ve yet to deal with someone younger than 35 act the same way, the exceptions being the kids of very wealthy people at my new job who reek of privilege I gag when they walk in—but even they are like *shrugs* “ok whatever” and understanding when there’s something I can’t do for them.

Me: “sorry, we are totally out of that one in your size, but I can order it for you, it’s 2-3 day shipping at no cost to you and we ship it straight to your house”

A rich, white, attractive 22-year-old who’s had access to organic food, a rigorous dermatologist, and financial security since she was born: “mmm... sure, I’ll order it”

A 47-year-old of any socioeconomic background, of any race, in the same situation: “AHHHHHHHHHHH”

I just think it’s crazy how three generations of kids and young adults raised in a world where everything moves so much faster, where knowledge and entertainment and communication can be gathered so much faster, are often so much more polite and patient and understanding. Yesterday I told an older man (mid-50s) whose native tongue is the same as mine, as clearly and succinct as possible, that what he’s looking for is “in aisle 4.” He proceeded to repeat back, “Aisle 7?” four time before I dropped everything to show him what he needed in aisle 4, despite his insistence that he didn’t need me to walk him there. 4 and 7 sound nothing alike in English. There’s just something going on up there 🧠 that’s different.

Oh, other generational divides!!! We have different approaches to labor and working. Totally different! I’m a “young” millennial where I’m almost Gen Z, and I’ve noticed an awful trend among my demographic where people actually brag about working 90 hour work weeks. Or brag about how they skip breaks and live on-call to get the job done for “the hustle” like this “hustle, become a millionaire by 30″ culture that’s dominated these kids, idk where tf that came from. Like why are you proud of being a wage slave, getting taken advantage of by your millionaire/billionaire overlords. Compare this to my mother’s generation (she’s a borderline Genius X’er, she and her best friend were a year too young to watch Grease when it came out and had a random older woman buy tickets for her; she went to Prince concerts, took photos of him, then sold the photos on buttons at school, that’s her culture and teenage experience), where she’s insistent on her rights and entitlements as an employee, and these things she instilled me: “whatchu mean they didn’t schedule a break for you and you’re working 12 hrs today? oh no, you’re off, don’t answer your phone cuz you are NOT available!” There are Gen X’ers who entered the workforce at a time that America was drifting toward this corporate world, with more strictly defined regulations, roles, and understandings of labor rights (and also, let’s talk about how the 80s there was so much more attention on workplace harassment, misogyny and gender divides in wage gaps, etc. etc... not that much has changed, but at least it was talked about!). There are young people today who are taken advantage of because they aren’t as informed or don’t feel as secure and valuable enough to claim what belongs to them.

At the same time, those generations (Gen X and older) have a different viewpoint of hierarchies in the workplace and respect irt our direct supervisors. That’s how you get this blurring of boundaries between Work Life and one’s Personal Life that leads to common tropes in media written by their generations, where oh no! I’m having my boss over for dinner and the roast beef is still defrosting :O is such a “relatable thing” for them... meanwhile us younger generations are like I don’t even like that you know where I live, and if I see your 2017 Honda Civic pass my place one day, we’re going to have a problem. I think older generations have a different relationship with the word “Respect” than we do. Like, my grandma, who’s turning 87 (?) this year, and the other seniors in my area, they have a different concept of honor and an expectation of professional boundaries that I, and my mom and her generation, just don’t see (so then there’s something in common with Gen X’ers and the rest of us.) My dad grew up in a world where talking and acting like George Bailey and knocking on someone’s door with a big smile could get you a job, a job that could pay for college and rent no problem. My mom grew up in a world that demanded more prestige, where cover letters and references could get you into some cushy jobs if you’re persistent and ballsy enough. And I grew up in a world where potential employers literally don’t see your face when you apply unless they lurk on any social media profiles you have publicly available and they hold all the cards, and you need all those CVs and reference letters just to make minimum wage... so I feel like I am powerless in the face of such employers.

[amazingmsme]

For the horror ask thing, 3 and 20!

3. you're planning a horror movie marathon with your friends - which movies are you picking? The original Halloween & Nightmare on Elm Street first of all, those are my top faves. Room 1408, A Quiet Place, The Amityville Horror but the one with Ryan Reynolds, Delirium, Silence of the Lambs, What Lies Beneath, Bad Times at the El Royale, Kiss the Girls & probably a lot more that I can’t think of right now, but horror is like my favorite genre of film & I tend to prefer paranormal & psychological stories as well as more realistic ones like people being kidnapped or escaping a killer. Midsommar & The House that Jack Built are also fantastic films but both get extremely fucked up & graphic so I’d have to check with whoever I’m watching with. The Conjuring movies are all great & id probably have a marathon just for them

20. do you have any personal scary stories? something that happened to you or somebody close to you? I have way too many, you’d think being the only people who ever lived in this house would mean no ghosts, but you’d be wrong. But I’ll give some highlights:

-1 time when I was trying to leave my room as a kid, some orange nail polish shot out directly in front of my face & hit the wall before sliding down to the floor. With how fast it was going it 100% should’ve broke but it kind of stayed there for a second before falling down

-my sister heard & felt someone whisper in her ear that was pressed against her pillow

-I saw a tall man in my closet watching me dance in my room, this was around the time I was in middle school. To this day I’m still paranoid that I’ll see him if I go dance in there

-one time as a kid it was freezing outside but I still wanted to go out & play. My grandma was watching me while my mom took my sister to the doctor & I was playing out of sight from any window. My old dog Gabby was super protective & barked at everything, & out of nowhere this young woman appears, I’d say mid to late teens. For reference I was wearing 2 pairs of pants, a long sleeve shirt, a puffy jacket & a hat & gloves. This girl was wearing short shorts, a spaghetti strap tank top & was barefoot with no visible signs that she was cold. I was just frozen staring at her & she looked at me. I think she might’ve said she liked my dog but I can’t really remember. I looked over at Gabby & back at her & she was gone

-a few years ago when I stepped out of the shower, 3 full fingers were pressed into the steam on the mirror, but what’s really odd is that there was no palm mark. Of course I took a picture

-we have a tiny porcelain doll that’s haunted & I’m positive that’s where the little girl came from. She’s chilled out over the years but it used to be every time you talked about it, something would happen about 30 minutes after. Like our drapes would fly open, the tv would turn on, we heard a ringing that wasn’t our doorbell, weird shit like that. The guys my mom used to baby sit were terrified of her

-when I was like 3 I was staring at the cabinet she’s kept in & my mom asked what I was doing. She said I had this strange determined & stern look on my face & said “she needs to be standing up.” I was never a stubborn kid but I was adamant about it. After that the activity lessened by a lot

-also regarding the doll, my sister took some pictures of her on the first step in our pool for her photography class but no matter what, the teacher couldn’t open the files for the doll pictures. She could get the other ones but her computer would act very weird when she tried to see those specific ones

-everyone in my family has seen the little girl & even 1 of my sister’s friends saw her go to my room. I think only my sister & I have seen the man tho & he usually appears as a dark shadow, tho when he was in my closet I could see more detail like clothes, but his facial features were in shadow

-the girl looks like your basic horror movie child ghost, like I’m not shitting you. She’s got long dark hair & wears a white dress & whenever I see her the dress is usually the first thing I notice

-2 years ago my sister & I were at our house while my parents when you a high school reunion. We were chilling out by the pool when the chair sitting next to me scooted away from the table. I saw it happen & it freaked me out & my sister heard it & we were both scared. Idk why but I always just assumed they’d never go outside & so shit like that

-random objects can go missing & then appear right before your eyes, but not before you turn the house upside down first. I think they enjoy seeing us frustrated & it ticks me off

-we will hear people talking sometimes but you can’t really make out what they’re saying. If it’s more than 1 voice then it’s always a guy & girl’s voices

-I get touched by them the most out of my family & I fucking hate it. Get your fake dead hands OFF my body I do not like you. I’ve been touched in my house & a few times when I was hospitalized, & once this year at a guest house on vacation. The weird thing about the times in the hospital were that they all happened on the left side of my body. Hands down the worst part of it is when I can feel the size of the hands so I know if it’s a child or adult. & for some reason, ghosts like to touch you 1 finger at a time, 0/10 would recommend

-in my dad’s old house he said he could feel someone sitting on his bed with him & could even see the indention. He said he thought it was his Papaw. But when we go there I almost always get an unsettling vibe

-I made sure to save the best for last! This is my worst/scariest experience & I really hope my cousin doesn’t see this because it happened when they were here. But the younger one was in my room already asleep so I was just chilling on my phone in the dark. My phone illuminated the room just enough so I could see a few feet around me & I saw the girl at the foot of my bed. She had on that stupid white dress & her dark hair hung over her shoulders & hid her face. Then she grabbed the footboard & acted like she was about to fucking crawl up so I noped the fuck out & turned off my phone & proceeded to hide under the covers. Then I just… went to sleep? I mean I’ve been used to that shit all my life but I have no idea how I slept after that. I knew that if I got my mom then it would wake up my cousin & she’d know that something weird was up so I just ignored it the best I could. But you bet your ass I told Mom the next day

Like I said, I have a lot of stories & there’s still more I could share, but most stuff is pretty insignificant & I forget what exactly happened, but stuff does happen. Lately I’ve been seeing a lot of shadows & I really hope that there’s nothing in my new apartment. But yeah, sorry this got so long!

[fae-fucker]

Review: There's Magic Between Us

by Jillian Maria

A diehard city girl, 16-year-old Lydia Barnes is reluctant to spend a week in her grandma’s small town. But hidden beneath Fairbrooke’s exterior of shoddy diners and empty farms, there’s a forest that calls to her. In it, she meets Eden: blunt, focused, and fascinating. She claims to be hunting fae treasure, and while Lydia laughs it off at first, it quickly becomes obvious that Eden’s not joking—magic is real. Lydia joins the treasure hunt, thrilled by all the things it offers her. Things like endless places in the forest to explore and a friendship with Eden that threatens to blossom into something more. But even as she throws herself into her new adventure, some questions linger. Why did her mom keep magic a secret? Why do most of the townspeople act like the forest is evil? It seems that, as much as Lydia would like to pretend otherwise, not everything in Fairbrooke is as bright and easy as a new crush…

I received a digital copy of the book in exchange for a review.

And here it is! Nearly a month late because I’m bad at time :)

But hey, that means the book is already out and you can go get it! Wee!

Also, here’s my review of Jillian Maria’s other book, The Songbird’s Refrain.

This review contains no spoilers aside from stuff that you can probably assume from the blurb, such as the existence of the fae and magic. Duh. Anyway, onward!

So, I’m gonna be straight with you fam, not that I can be anything else, but to spare any potential author their feelings and maybe prevent them from reading the review, not that that would happen, I hope:

This book was not for me.

Now, that doesn’t mean it was bad. Far from it, I think it’s pretty much exactly what it’s advertised as and anyone who thinks they might enjoy it will defo enjoy it. It’s a polished work of art that’s professionally written and presented, on par with and often above a lot of traditionally published stuff, and if you want a fluffy magical sapphic YA romance, this is for you.

But it wasn’t for me. Or, at least, I don’t think I’m the target audience. I enjoyed reading it, don’t get me wrong, but my enjoyment was always lukewarm, like I wasn’t quite getting the full experience. And that’s more on me than the book.

I won’t structure this review the way I usually do, mainly because I feel like my problems with the book are all intertwined and stem from the same source, which is ... I’m not sure? Genre? Target audience? Intent? All of the above?

The writing still carries the same sort of easy-to-read style that was present in The Songbird’s Refrain, though the main characters’ voices are obviously vastly different.

Overall, I liked the writing on a technical level, and I’m once again impressed with the author’s ability to avoid swear words, though Lydia is a bit more of a potty-mouth than Elizabeth was.

Lydia has a clear personality and voice, and one of my problems is that maybe it was a little too clear at times.

I know how that sounds, but it could be a side-effect of the book’s target audience being teens. Both Lydia and Eden have extremely defined and spelled-out character arcs. Lydia is too reckless and spontaneous and needs to chill, Eden is too chill and calculating and needs to let loose. A fine concept in theory, a good mirroring for a romance, but here, its execution feels a bit like a checklist? It’s basically spelled out for us how one influences the other, the character acknowledge their own flaws and at the end note how the other has changed them for the better, rounded them out. It didn’t feel very natural, and I thought it would’ve been better to leave that stuff implied since it was already pretty obvious.

It doesn’t help that both Lydia and Eden are far, far too mature for any sixteen-year-old I’ve ever met. They both recognize and acknowledge their feelings as irrational and apologize exactly for what they’ve done wrong, which sure, maybe is feel-good and a positive influence upon a teen reading this, but for me just felt a bit unrealistic. My favorite part of the book was when Lydia and Eden had a fight and Lydia stomped off all pissy and Eden refused to apologize later. It showed them being teens, individuals, idiots, flawed people who are growing up and learning to deal with their emotions. And then it’s somewhat undercut by them both having perfect apologies afterward where they know exactly what they did wrong just based on intuition? Like, complete with “here’s what I did wrong and why that was bad of me.” Idk, maybe JM was a better person as a teen than I was.

I really can’t say a lot about the other characters. The heroes of the story were all defined and had motivations and flaws of their own, while the antagonists were either a faceless mob, a faeceless mob (get it?), or just a dude who shows up in the last chapters and then is immediately dealt with. Compared to the antagonists in TSR, these guys felt a little underwhelming. They were set up from earlier in the story, of course, but their inclusion still felt a bit last-minute instead of a natural progression and integration into the fabric of the story.

And, again, I get it. This isn’t about the villains or that conflict. This is about the love story and the familial bonds and everything else comes after. Which is fine, but not something I personally found very compelling.

I think my favorite character was Eden, because she was cranky and awkward and flawed to a degree that felt right. She made mistakes but had her reasons, she was unlikable at times, and she felt grief and remorse.

I also liked Lydia’s mother, who, despite being in fear or pain for a lot of her on-page presence, still loved her daughter fiercely. She felt a lot like a real parent, even if her and Lydia’s relationship was a bit too saccharine for me to fully get behind.

Now let’s talk about the plot, or rather, the pacing, which was my other big problem with the book. The first third is very slow, my dudes. It may have contributed to why it took me so long to finish the book, a lot of it is just Lydia faffing about. The book is very light on magic stuff in the beginning, and it would’ve been fine if it didn’t do a whole 180 at the end and turned into a low-fantasy menacing mystery, complete with the vague threat of a human-fae war. I would’ve liked to have seen less Lydia and Eden faffing about and more of that magic plot, and while I understand that the focus of the first third was character-building, it still could’ve been done with a more balanced spread of plot vs character interaction.

But here’s where my personal tastes cloud my judgment. I’m not a young teen, so maybe I don’t see the value in more compassionate and understanding teen characters who could serve as role models. I’m not a WLW, so maybe I don’t see the value in two girls faffing about looking for a magic stick in the forest. I’m not a fluff-enjoyer (whatever the proper word for that is), so maybe the universally loving and positive characters just don’t land as well for me.

I can’t say that I hated this book, because I didn’t. In fact, I really enjoyed the latter half of it. I thought the fae were cool and interesting and felt disappointed there weren’t more of them in the story. Despite my grumbling, I do still appreciate what the book tried to do with the comfortable and loving family relationships between the characters and their relatives. I can see how this could help other readers and make them feel seen or perhaps soothe them when they don’t have the same thing in their lives.

I can see what this book was going for. I respect it, and I respect the work and effort and love put into it. It oozes from every word like a warm, sweet sludge.

But I’m covered in goop now. And my hands are all sticky.

This wasn’t for me. But maybe it can be for you. If you want to read a sweet, magical and well-written gay YA romance, this is for you. It was specifically made for you, made for someone who craves this but doesn’t see enough of it. This book is important for what it represents and for what it is. And I hope with all my heart you love it as much as it deserves to be loved, as much as it loves you for reading it.

[punchholesinthesky]

I didn't know you could just be a boy

I was listening to a podcast today, about a girl who stood up to her parents at the tender age of four and told them that she was a girl and that she'd chosen a name. I'm in awe of this little girl being so damn sure of herself. I got super emotional listening to it and it got me thinking about my own childhood. It was NPR’s radio ambulante, the episode called “yo nena”.

I knew I was different from a young age but I didnt know how.

I just felt it. And probably cause I visited a lot of doctors and i guess most kids don't do that?

I learned that my brain was different but not the details. I had some vague notion of being adhd. I would not learn it until much later by googling different developmental disorders and learning about being neurodivergent and autistic.

I would later on go on to learn I was queer too, and though I had read the word genderqueer once and thought it fit, I hadn't given it much thought.

I was assigned female at birth, and though I have never liked it, I thought I was stuck with it, that I just had to make the best of it.

I remember wishing to be a boy so many times. Identifiying with male characters, creating ocs and alter-egos, acting the male parts (it was an all-girls school, someone had to), and begging mum to let me cut my hair short, and being so happy when people thought I was a boy.

I never liked traditionally female things, never had a barbie, hated dresses (there's still a photo of a tiny grumpy me being forced into a dress one of my grandmas gave me) and my school uniform was trousers 99% of the time. The other 1% was like official acts, maybe the first and last day of school, stuff like that. I hated it, but at an all-girls catholic school I had much biggers issues that complaining about wearing a skirt a few days out of the year. I remember the gym uniform being a problem. Not sure what the problem was. Something about tights maybe?

I never felt like a girl. But it wasn't something I could properly explain so when I tried to talk about it, with my parents or friends what they usually got out of it was the usual self-steem issues of any girl. Mum tried to help by helping me choose new clothes, telling me how good I looked. And trying to get me to be more feminine, teaching me about 'girly stuff',

But that wasn't it. I understand it better now .

See, it's not that I have self-steem issues about my appearance. I know I'm conventionally good

looking. And if I gave 1/10 of a fuck I can be a very hot girl. I have photos of pasts attempts to prove it. But it never felt right. It never felt like me.

I can put on a bikini and I'm young, thin, fit, I'll look good. But that doesn't mean I'll like what I see in the mirror. I don't feel uncomfortable because I think the person in the mirror looks bad but because I don't know who that is.

I feel exposed. Vulnerable. Bikinis are uncomfortable by design, meant to exploit feminine bodies and for someone who's already uncomfortable having one? A bloody nightmare.

And there's a lot of understand. Why the hell am I being punished for the crime of having a female body by being constantly uncomfortable ? Why are clothes so terrible? Why is so hard to find something basic and decent? Why are bras the worst?? On and on and on. questions I never got the answer to. So much confusion about girl stuff that every other girl i knew seemed capable of navigating.

For a long time I blamed it on me being weird (ie, neurodivergent)

Like, all my friends started caring about boys, parties, romance, alcohol and drugs.

I'd always struggle in school and one year I got literally left behind.

I struggled with depression. I tried hard to fit in and be like them. I tried to be normal, followed their strange rituals. I let my hair grow out, i went on dates with boys, I drank too much and made out with strangers. I got into trouble. I wore a dress to my graduation and invited a boy I'd been talking to.

It was one of the few times I wore a dress voluntarily. Another one was a christmas dinner. And a new year's party. I also wore a skirt to dress up as kate bishop. That's about all I recall. I did buy a dress to cosplay clara oswald but never did it.

I wonder, what if I had told my parents I was a boy and I wanted to be treated like one before? How would they have reacted ?

Laughed it off probably. As they did when I pretended to be a boy for a game as I often did.

I can't imagine them taking it seriously, even now.

I don't know when I found out trans people existed, or who was the first one I heard about.

But I do know I thought it meant you like hated your body or yourself and wanted to be totally different.

And that didnt fit me. I had never hated myself. I hated how the world treated me. I hated arbitrary rules based on gender.

My scout group was mixed-gender, but we were divided in troops and these were single-gender and divided by age.

But we all learned the same things. Whether it was building a fire, tracking, or cooking, we got the same lessons. Sometimes we competed and we slept/bathed separately.

In TECHO it was all mixed-gender. Well, except bathing, but often we'd shared the same bathroom. We slept, cooked, and worked together.

And nobody ever looked down on girls as 'the weaker sex'

That was cool.

My actual education was the opposite. Academically, it is better for a school to be all-girls, at least for girls. But socially, not so much.

As a teenager, I hadn't quite forgotten how much I wanted to be a boy as a kid, but idk I thought I had left it behind me. That what I craved was freedom, independence, the benefits of being a boy, not actually being one.

Later I would discover terms like 'internalized misogyny' and think that was the problem. Cause I liked Lucy and Arya, not Susan and Sansa.

Yet here I stand, years later. Having done a lot  of work. Recognising the value of Susan and Sansa. Appreciating Peggy Carter, in a gay and feminist way, and still not wanting to be a girl.

It just doesn't fit me. It's not a rejection.

I'm a feminist. I think women are great.

I understand there are many ways to be one.

That I don't have to be feminine to be one.

And yet, it just doesn't feel right.

After I learned of what 'gender dysphoria' was I though, 'oh I can't be trans I don't have that'

And then, I learned about 'gender euphoria'

And that finally opened my eyes

Trying to be a girl always felt like an ill-fitting costume, no matter how hard I tried. Like I was playing a part and didn't know my lines.

I remember cutting my hair short, like kstew, and going WOW upon seeing my reflection.. I looked more like myself than I had in ages.

I bought different clothes. Boy's clothes. I'm too small for men's clothes but I can fit just fine in clothes meant for 12 years old boys.

I cut my hair, put on new clothes, bought tight sport bras, and when I looked in the mirror, I wasn't sure who the person staring back was but I really liked how he looked.

My parents, for ages, tried to get me to 'dress nicer' to 'act like a lady' and so on. I cared enough to shower and put on clean clothes. I bought a lot of nerdy shirts which I at least liked. Did some experiments. Occasionally I'd make an effort but otherwise I was pretty basic. Loose-fitting jeans and hoodies.

Family kept gifting me nicer girly things I'd wear once and often ignored later.

It wasn't till I gave myself permission to truly dress how I wanted, and yes to shop in the boy's/men's section that I started to actually care about how I looked and putting more effort in.

I never thought I could be a boy, because I didn't know that was a thing you could do.

if I had been like that little girl and said 'i'm a boy' I think they'd havebeen at a total loss.

would they have asked my shrink? What would he have said?? It felt as though they were always on my case to be more lady-like but I know that's unfair. They were generally pretty okay with me being a tomboy, at least until puberty. And even then it was never that huge a thing. More of a constant annoying issue. There were many more pressing ones.

It's 2019, and I bet most parents would still be at a loss. There's not exactly a lot of rep or info.

I'm a lot happier with how I look now, but I still haven't found the right words to explain myself to my parents. I know I have to eventually, I want to stop hiding, to be visible, to change my name.

[bangtancentricsblog]

the first encounter 

Thank you again to my lovely wife @boymeetsweevil 😍💜💖

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, angst, lots of crying, alcohol consumption, mean Jb, brother sister bonding(?), manhandling, idk what else please let me know if i missed anything!

<< prev - next >>

🖤 (saturday 2:20 AM)

i have a surprise for you 

You stare at your phone, and you have to convince yourself not to panic. It’s the first time since you’ve stopped seeing Yoongi that you feel ready to pick up the pieces of your broken heart and now you’re not sure you even want to try. A sense of dread fills you, what would have once filled you with some sort of comfort now does nothing but wreak havoc on your already distressed heart. How are you going to get out of this, surprise or not, you're absolutely sure you don't want it. Not anymore at least, it's with this that you take a shaky breath noticing the trembling of your hands as they grip the phone tight. You want to call Yoongi, want to hear the soft drawl of his voice as he takes your mind away from all the thoughts swirling in your head. You want to curl up in his bed, in the downy soft of his sheets, and feel his fingers run through your hair. You want to be with Yoongi. You take another breath gaze falling to the message once more, what did it mean? What could JB be planning, you can't begin to imagine what it could be, the tears come quick because you’re not ready. Not ready to face JB, not now, not ever. 

You wipe at your eyes quickly, scrubbing the tears away, because now isn't the time to cry. You’d done enough crying in the last three weeks, had felt worse than you have all your life. Though it's about time you stop feeling so sorry for yourself. Life has its ups and downs and sure you had more downs than ups so far but that doesn't mean you should crumble so easily. It's now that you’ve managed to calm your breathing that you realize this was the end of you and JB. Somehow your brain registers your previous thought, the one involving Yoongi. The one that had your broken heart fluttering instead of filling with anxiety. You don’t think of JB, you push him to the furthest corner of your brain, because tonight you want to be you again. It's been so long since you’ve been the girl you were before JB, before Yoongi but had found yourself slowly finding her again. 

Maybe it's because Yoongi had unknowingly reached into those hidden parts and slowly pulled her to the surface. Pulled her out from the depths of an ocean she had long since been drowning in. It’s been so long, you almost don’t recognize the girl standing in your mirror. She looks better than you had felt in what feels like forever, it's the first time since your break up (if you could call it that) with Yoongi and your time away from JB that you had felt comfortable in your own skin. Had felt beautiful without the low gravel of Yoongi’s voice in your ear, without the possessive and slightly belittling tone JB said it in. It's no wonder Jimin had been hesitant to leave you alone, you’re sure he doesn’t know what you’ve gone through with JB but you’re sure he would be pissed. Maybe his worry had stemmed from when he’d found you in the kitchen two weeks ago eating cupcakes straight from the tin. 

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing." You mumbled cheeks full.

"Are those the cupcakes?"

"No," you paused, carefully unwrapping another cupcake "they’re baby cakes."

"Are you sure you’re okay? You’re crying in front of the fridge stuffing your face with cupcakes at 3 in the morning." Jimin sighed eyes trained on your figure as you lifted the aforementioned cake to your lips. Lips open wide as you pushed the entirety of the pastry into your mouth before closing it and proceeding to chew. ‘That’s disgusting’ he thought, face twisted in disgust watching you basically swallow the cupcake whole as you sobbed silently around a mouthful of cake. 

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Jimin says prying the clear container from your lap and setting it aside, it doesn't help, you already have two cupcakes in your hands. You shake your head still chewing as tears continue their trek across your cheeks.

“Okay, do you mind if I keep you company then?” you shake your head again and he realizes that maybe those few words from earlier is all he’s going to get out of you tonight. You two sit in the relative silence, the fridge light is soft on your features reminding Jimin just how much younger you are than him. He feels his heart clench, the last time he’d found you like this was when your grandma had passed and it had been like living with a complete stranger. You look broken, and Jimin wants to cry, to scream, to be angry because he doesn’t know how to make you feel better. 

"It hurts, it hurts so much. I don't want to hurt anymore." You mumbled arms wrapping around Jimin before pressing your face into his neck and letting out some long suffering sobs. Jimin feels the tears prick at his eyes as he wraps you up in his arms. He’s quiet as he cries because he’s just so frustrated, how could he have let this happen. He’s disappointed in himself for not having noticed your suffering, maybe he should’ve paid closer attention. Yet he’s not sure if you’re feeling the way that you are because of Yoongi or because of something else. He thinks he should go see his friend, maybe he can figure it out if he talks to Yoongi. He doesn’t cry for long, there’s this weird feeling clinging to his shirt and he suddenly feels uncomfortable. 

"Did you just stain my shirt?"

"M'sorry,  it was an accident." You mumbled against the skin of his neck.  He felt your breathing even out and soon enough your arms fall limp around his being. With a heavy sigh and a bit of struggling he managed to stand your form pressed against his as he made his way to your bedroom.

You had felt bad in the morning, eyes puffy and red rimmed from lack of sleep but you had apologized before puking your guts out from all the cupcakes you had eaten. You cringe at the thought, still remembering all that had happened afterwards, but today you feel good. It's time to move on, and if Yoongi never wanted to see you again then so be it. It would hurt but you had mended your heart more times than you could count and Yoongi would be the last person to hurt you. 

There’s a heavy bass coming from the speakers in the living room, the floor is vibrating in tune with the beat and you’ve worked up a sweat with the people who crowd the dance floor. Some of the bodies are dancing and others have taken to bouncing around in a mosh pit like fashion, you’re having fun, but most of all you feel free. Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's the little bit of weed you had smoked from Jimin’s ‘hidden’ stash, you’re not too sure but it feels nice to really have fun. You feel light and the smile hasn’t left your lips since you turned up at this party, you don't think you have anything to worry about. The night is turning out amazing, a girl with dark hair smiles softly at you, her shoulders are bare and you eye her intricate mandala tattoo. It's beautiful with a half moon in the center, you briefly wonder where she got it done, your gaze travels just past the boy's shoulder who stands with her and you feel your knees buckle. 

Steve Aoki’s ‘wake up call’ is ringing in your ears, the chorus deafening because you really want to wake up. This has to be a bad dream, there’s no way it could be possible. Your limbs lock up, body shoved this way and that by the crowd that had once easily embraced you, your eyes widened as you watch JB make his way to you with a smirk. His hair is tied up in a bun and he’s just as handsome as you remember but all you feel is dread. He’s dressed in a black button up tucked into fitted black jeans. Half the buttons are left undone revealing a little too much of his chest, something you loved once, but don’t know how to react to now. He easily makes his way to you wrapping an arm around your waist the other easily tangling in your curls. 

“Missed me baby?” he murmurs pulling you close. Your breath is stuttered as you struggle to give him an answer. He doesn't like the wide eyed look you're sending him, he also doesn't like how much skin you’re showing everyone here. 

“I asked you a question.” he breathes pulling on your hair, making you cry out in pain. Tears prick at your eyes as his grip tightens. 

“Y-yeah, always miss you.” you say voice strained. There’s movement in your peripheral and you chance a glance. 

Yoongi doesn’t know why he’s here, he hasn’t felt in the party mood for a while but he’s already here so he makes the most of it. Maybe he needs this, he could find someone to make him forget. The idea seems more and more appealing with every drink he has, sadly enough he stops at three. He doesn’t like to say it but he’s a sad drunk, likes to pick at old wounds and usually feels worse come morning because even drunk Yoongi was something sober Yoongi remembered. He’d spotted Jungkook some time ago huddled in the corner with a petite girl straddling his thigh. He hadn't gone over because Jungkook quite frankly was a freak, so the kid was a little on the quiet side but he’d done things Yoongi had only ever dreamed of. 

Still he’s itching for a smoke, but besides Jungkook he doesn’t really trust anyone’s weed. The house is packed, bodies filling every room and hallway, he’s almost certain he saw Jimin swapping spit with a redhead near the bathroom. He can see Hoseok dancing with his best friend Luna from his seat near the alcohol and if you asked him they’re a little handsy to just be friends. He doesn’t care all that much though, who is he to judge them? He briefly wonders if Jackson is here, his need for a smoke is too much and even though Jackson’s weed makes him sick he’s willing to make the sacrifice. He’s quick to scan the crowd for that obnoxiously shiny head of hair but instead finds the man from the convenience store the other day. 

There’s a furrow to Yoongi’s brow as he watches this stranger scan the crowd before he seems to find his target. He shouldn't care, especially since he doesn't know this guy to begin with but he follows his line of sight to you. You’re standing in the middle of the dance floor and it's the first time in weeks Yoongi has seen you. He takes some time to study you, your hair is curled hanging around your face making his fingers twitch, but what really gets him is the outfit you’re wearing. The lace bralette crop top and satin mini skirt make his mouth feel dry, he wants to  walk over and beg on his knees for you to let him feel your skin beneath his palms. Wonders if you miss him as much as he missed you, but it’s now that he realizes that you too are gazing back at the other man. He wants to be upset at you but he can’t be, not when he isn't your boyfriend to begin with. Yet somehow, something in him screams to go to you. It’s not like Yoongi can just walk up to you like, ‘hey remember me, we fucked for a bit then i said all that mean shit to you? Yeah i’d love it if you could suck my dick again.” 

He really isn't made for this lovely dovey crap he thinks just about ready to tear his gaze away from the display before him. Though he doesn’t because in the next moment this creep has his hands on you and you don't look to be enjoying it either. You’re standing stiff, arms limp at your sides as the other man embraces you, Yoongi narrows his eyes because he’s not sure but he thinks he can just barely make out the tears in your eyes. Something flares up inside him when he notices the hand knotted in your hair, causing your neck to arch back to gaze up the other man. He shouldn't get involved, for all he knows this could be your thing; but there’s this feeling in the pit of his stomach that says something is wrong. He’s out of his seat before he can stop himself, easily sliding in between the bodies of eager dancers. He’s just about to step in when he makes eye contact with you. Your eyes are swimming with unshed tears, eyes wide and slightly frightened as they meet his. 

“Sweetpea you okay?” he asks, tone full of concern because Yoongi has never seen you look so scared.

“Sweetpea? Why is he calling you that baby?” JB mutters loosening his grip on your hair. His gaze darkens as he takes Yoongi in. 

“It’s nothing, he’s a friend of my brothers.” you hurriedly say eyes darting between both of them. 

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asks again when he sees the twitch of your fingers as he steps closer.  

“M’fine.” you answer and he watches as you shoot a small glance at the other man before shying away, the hand on your waist pulling you into the man’s side. 

“You sure?”

“Look man, she said she was fine.” 

“Yeah and I wasn't asking you.” Yoongi snaps. JB laughs his gaze falling to you and you flinch in his hold.

“Oh I get it, she fucked you. Was he better than me baby, was his cock bigger than mine?” he asks but there’s a dark look in his eyes.

“N-no, no. You’re the best.” you say automatically and Yoongi feels his temper flare. Not because he doubts his sexual prowess but because he can see the pleading look you’re sending his way. 

“Good, now give me a kiss.” Jb says as his thumb and forefinger dig into the meat of your cheeks, tilting your head up so he can kiss you. You seem like a totally different person standing next to this guy whom Yoongi can only assume is your boyfriend. You whimper the sound filling Yoongi’s ears and it's not one that he enjoys because you sound hurt. Yoongi can only watch as you flinch again when JB bites your lower lip, the pale rose flesh blooming with color the moment he pulls away. The tears have begun to fall, smile wobbly as you peak at the other boy under your lashes. 

“Let's get out here baby, wanna show you how much I missed you.” he says eyeing Yoongi with a glare. You don't utter a word only nod slightly before being dragged out of the crowd. It's a last minute thought but yoongi reaches out taking your hand before you can disappear. He doesn't say anything just watches as you turn to him looking every bit as scared as he feels. Your hand grips his tight, but he doesn't know if it's to reassure him or to make yourself feel better. He wants to say something, anything to make sure this is what you want but he can't. Can't find the words to apologize to you, can't seem to form proper sentences because all he can feel is fear, is this the last time he’ll see you? Will you leave when the summer is over like a changing season, will you forget about him? 

His heart aches with the thought, is it for the best? He doesn't think so, but perhaps you’ve already made your choice. He lets go of your hand, doesn't see the way your lips wobble, or the tears that quickly cloud your vision again. Doesn’t see the look of absolute dread on your face as JB pulls you along and out of the crowd.

✧✧✧✧✧

taglist: @bussy-posts​, @peachymochimochi​

[zaymadden-author]

Written by ZAY MADDEN

“Man, this is not how Saturday nights are supposed to go.” With all the shit going on in the world, I’ve been house-bound for a minute, and at this point I’m all TikTok’d out. A couple of my boys and my cousin Terrell pulled up on me around 8 for a couple rounds of 2K 🎮, but you know how Mississippi weather is. Mother Nature randomly decided to do her dirty work and had them staying later than planned, but once the sky stopped roaring, I sent my boys home. It was time for a night cap.

I trailed them outside to make sure they were all gone, and once the last car looped around my driveway, I could finally sit on my porch and think. I had my D’USSÈ 🥃 in one hand and my phone in another, scrolling through my thread of texts to see which girl I could get to bless my night; it was part of my weekend ritual. I had a rule though: never start at the top because most recent pussy tends to be not as interesting unless she really got that 🍑💦 if you know what I’m saying.

So, last I checked, Keisha wit the plump ass moved to Florida, which is unfortunate for me. She had one hell of a mouth piece in bed but never ran her mouth in the streets. I could respect that and that’s why I keep her on standby.

The next on my list, Monica, was on the classy end of the spectrum, but it was like rolling dice with her ass. Most of the time she waits until 7 am to reply. Her brain was still accustomed to her school schedule and she had a day job too, so I respected that. However, it sucked for me though cuz Monica was bad af from head to toe and really would’ve gave me a night to remember. Shit, I still reminisce about our last rendezvous. She had pretty feet and plump lips that felt like pillows with each kiss. And I know it’s weird, but I think it’s a turn on whenever I see her with those scrubs on. It’s just something about a hard-working black woman. (Damn smh.) I decided not even bother her this late.

So I kept scrolling up right, slowly feeling my luck build up, when my phone all of a sudden ding’d. My heart started thumping against my rib cage, and the corners of my mouth shot up. I couldn’t wait to see who this could be.

(I turn my notification banners off for good reason.)

Could it be Ashley? (The one that stayed wayyy out in Clinton). She usually texts when she wants some dick but it takes her forever to get to my place in Madison.

I put my search on pause and immediately made my way to the top to see who it could be. And would you believe it? “She always does this shit bruh. Like fr!”

Lo and fucking behold:

[MOM: Can you take your grandma to the store in the morning? I forgot to tell you earlier. Phone died.]

MAN 😤!! I almost summoned the spirit of Brady and launched $999 worth of iPhone in the damn pond. It’s 12:02 at night. She could’ve just waited until daylight resumed before bothering me with this!

I know that’s my heart and soul, but grandma is not the type of woman I want on my mind right now. But I replied “ok” to avoid any further communication at this hour.

I kept scrolling through my digital black book and I contemplated, but immediately dismissed, the idea of calling Alisha over. She said I be hurting her so she only wanna do oral. “Naw. I’ll pass. I’m good on that tonight.” Nobody else seemed worthy of hitting up at the time, at least this time of night, so I head inside. I locked the door behind me and made my way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I spritzed a little water on my head and brushed my waves into submission before securing it with my DuRag. Staring at this thick-browed, handsome, brown skinned fellow in the mirror, I began to question whether I still had it. “I am only 23 so that’s nowhere near the ‘falling off’ age,” I say to myself. I guess with me working day and night, I didn’t have time to pull ‘em like I used to.

So, I went and plopped on my bed, face towards the ceiling, contemplating my future, when I heard the sound of rocks sloshing under tires. The sound slowly magnified, and to myself I’m thinking that maybe one of my homeboys forgot something in my house. A barcode-like shadow cast on my wall as the luminance of headlights beamed through my blinds. I almost walked to the door empty handed, but the detective Stabler in me wasn’t taking any chances. So, I grabbed my piece in my night stand and asserted my second amendment rights. Tip-toe after tip-toe I was almost to the door when I heard the engine stop. A few seconds later there was this rhythmic chiming noise echoing through the walls. I crept to the front window stealthily, and peeked out the blinds. I could recognize the vehicle but I had to be sure it was who I thought it was, so I flicked on the second outdoor light.

All I saw was curly tresses flowing through the window of a pink Lexus.

“Aaliyah?” ..... “but how did she?”

With a mixture of anxiety and excitement, I snatched open the front door 🚪 to greet her. And when I saw her strut up the walkway with a touch of flair, a second emotion arose: confusion. How did she know I was alone? How did she know there wasn’t another girl here? It’s been two years and I still can’t figure out how this girl knows me so well and I think that’s why she intrigued me so much. It also scared me a little bit too. I usually don’t let a girl come over unannounced.

She would’ve been the first girl I tried to text, but last I checked she was in New York on business.

I shoot commercials for a living and I did one for her boutique. That’s how we came across each other.

But she’s here now so who cares that she popped up. (Maybe that’s just my dick talking 🤷🏾‍♂️... idk)

She had two Raising Cane’s bags, which I’m guessing that, during this pandemic, was the only thing she could come across at this time a night. Everything else was closed, even Taco Bell.

She let out a soft “Hey” as she bat her lashes and I quickly shut the gap in my mouth.

“What’s up?” I then responded.

And for a moment our eyes did a tango before she broke the silence.

“Can I come in? It’s kinda hot out here. ”

[And she wasn’t lying about that.]

We suddenly smiled at each other (each clipped with a note of sensuality), and with a nonverbal response, I helped her carry the drinks in and held open the door, catching a strange whiff of fried chicken and some floral fragrance as she walked by. I sucked my bottom lip as she sashayed towards my couch; those long legs accented by her gold trimmed pumps.

With a quick, smooth swivel of her body, she had positioned herself towards me, carrying a whole conversation with her eyes.

After locking my door I suddenly needed to adjust my boxer briefs. Gazing at those smooth brown legs made me graduate from flaccid to half chub, but my need to feast was urgent. My stomach was growling like a mf.

So I sit down to eat, right. And we get to chatting about her trip to NY ✈️ and how she’s been so stressed out with trying to open up a store out there. The whole time she’s going on and on about her tired body and her hectic work schedule, I’m reading in between the lines. She didn’t come here looking like that just to talk about work.

Aaliyah has never been one to admit what she wants from me, she just drops hints and expects you to go fishing for answers.

After smashing half my chicken box though, she got up like she had no time to waste. With a flick of her ankles she had both shoes flying across the floor. She took one last glance at me before leading the way to my bedroom, first slipping her skirt off in the living room and her shirt slowly draped from her body as she made her way down the hall. To keep up the tempo, I removed whatever she did, and by the time we made it to my room it was nothing but birthday suits.

I was ready for penetration at the door, but baby girl had other plans. She made me sit on the love seat by my window as she put on a show for me. It was an immediate game of teasing and temptation as she watched me slowly stroke my dick to every scene of her performance. First it was the leg play, then the breast tease, and then my favorite of all... something she knows gets me hard as steel.... the pussy play.

I love it when she bends open her thighs and plays with the most anticipated part of her body. Her smooth, brown sugar skin and nude polished nails drew an excellent contrast to that sweet, bright pink center. And she knew I wanted it too. She also knows how much I brag about how tight she is, so she takes her two fingers and spreads it open in full view for me. It was one thing for me to speculate, but when she slid one finger in and out for me, it was proof enough that her coochie still had that snap-back action.

I couldn’t take it anymore. With my dick now towering from my hand, I made my way over to her. She was now in submission as I asserted myself over her, so I pulled her to the the edge of the bed to get ready for my part. I looked down at myself, the tip of my dick head now glistening with anticipation, and said to her “I want you.”

And in the blink of an eye I was down on my knees and I had her hips cradled in my arms; my tongue digging into the flesh of her thigh, roughly gasping for air as I was too focused to remember breathing. With a slow dance of kissing and tongue-groping, I lead a trail up and down her thighs until I heard her say, “OMG.... Sean!”

I swear I felt a drop of pre-cum stream down to my ankle as I made my way to her hot zone 👅 . Like a rollercoaster, I had my tongue going round and round, remembering all the pressure points that made her thrust her pelvis into my face. I was in full control now, and no matter how hard she gripped the sheets, there was no escaping my vice grip.

My tongue was putting in overtime, and right before my clock struck 1:00 🕐 , I felt her first nut. We both laughed (our goofy asses) to try and cut down on all that sexual tension.

I reared my head to get a good look at her sex face, my goatee now dripping in her juices, and I gave her a look that let her know I was ready for that action. I sprinted like hell to my night stand to grab me a “rain coat,” acting as if my dinner was about to get cold or something.

I slid that mf on so quick. I’d been waiting for this all night. Pussy in my mouth was one thing, but BEING in it... whew 😌.

I looked at her again before I engaged in our post-foreplay session. I already had my 🍆💦 on the edge ready for the deep dive. We shared a gaze as I slowly began to make my way inside. She had that “keep going” look on her face, but it was only so long that she could keep her composure. After the head made its way in, baby girl’s eyes began to sync with my slow strokes. They rolled as my hips began to roll, and before she knew it, her neck gave out and she rested her head. I finessed my hips into a slow roll as I reached down and sucked on her neck. Her walls began to relax as her pussy gradually began to invite me in. I kept piping her down, constantly going deeper until her belly felt full. And by then, I knew I had her.

I secured her backside with my arms, careful not to smother her precious body, as she demanded I up the pace. To keep up the demand, I got more comfortable on the bed before I shifted into overdrive. “Nice Sean” was gone and “ZADDY Sean” was on the scene.

I was working that pussy like I was running track, and before long, she had thought twice about what she asked for. She thought she was slick, inching her body away like I didn’t notice. But guess what, I inched right along with her ass. She had a long ways to go on my California King before she could escape this dick.

At this point, her facial expressions were no longer inaudible. She was squeezing out “oooo’s” and “ahhhhh’s” between every attempt to catch her breath.

“Wait baby... ooooooooo wait.” She pleaded, but mercy was no longer on the table. I kept going until her juices soaked my inner thigh.

“OMG Sean!” She utters the mantra again. But this time I give in to her cries. Hell, I needed to catch my breath too. Shit! 🥵

I rolled over for a brief intermission, slowly creeping my way to the top of the bed near my pillow. She followed. We rested for a good little minute, kissing on each other as the clock kept ticking, but I was mentally preparing for the second round. It was late at night so I had only about two good positions left in me.

She took a bathroom break before we resumed.

I had decided it was her turn, so I stayed where I was and used my finger to signal her to come near when she walked back in the room. So, she took a domineering stance right before she climbed into bed and cat walked towards me. Titties just bouncing everywhere. Curls flowing effortlessly in the breeze of my ceiling fan. She knew what she was doing and she got my lil man right back up. ☝🏾

She leaned towards me for a kiss as she saddled my waist, slow grinding to drum up more anticipation. I slapped my meat against her ass cuz I wanted her to stop playing these games. Hell, my dick was damn near shivering in the wind now.

But she took the hint and began to guide it back in. This time I rolled MY eyes as her warm goodies began to cradle me inside. She placed her hands on my chest and made her first move upward, then she put her hips in reverse. She put this same two-step on repeat, bouncing up and down on my shit, going all the way to the base. I’m talking balls deep. With this kinda grip, my dick was on the verge of spittin’ already, but I held back my nut. “This ain’t how I wanna to go out”

I was diggin’ this lil rodeo vibe she had going on, but the more her pussy lips clapped down on me, the more I started edging. I let her take control for a minute, but that minute quickly turned into a second as her hip grinding began to slow down. The batteries in that energizer bunny were at 20%... but thats what Zaddy Sean is here for. 😏

Right as she was on her way up, I stopped her and I kept her right in that position, pounding that 🎂 until all I heard was Mac n cheese stirring.

But shit, at this point it was time to make that Mac n cheese creamy. I got prepared for the finale as we moved into sex position #95.

I had her face on the pillow and I made her spread them cheeks before I dove in back. And for some reason, this position always gets me. Idk if it’s the fluffiness of the ass that gets my rocks off or the fact that the thigh clenching makes everything feel tighter. Who knows. But I didn’t have time to contemplate that.

With a few more strokes I was about to fuckin explode. I grabbed her extra tight, squeezing them titties and pushing extra deep until her moans went from tenor to soprano.

“Only a few more seconds baby,” I said in my head.. “just a few more seconds.”

I put a flex in my hips when I felt that good moment coming, and on my last stroke of edging, when I hit her spot, she squeezed her cheeks extra tight... and that was the extra umph that I needed to let loose.

I wanted to paint her back 💦 but the hooded Kermit in me said “naw, leave that shit in big dawg.” 😏

So, I hit my last pumps like a New Years countdown. 5... 4... 3.... 2... making sure my last hit was the strongest. I held it there as my body spasmed and my perineum pulsated, leaving me temporarily paralytic.

Cuz that’s what good pussy will do to ya.

I took a second to savor the moment because my horny-ness hadn’t completely subsided yet. By the time I was ready to pull out, my jimmy was slowly becoming soft & squishy again.

With the head still sensitive, I slowly abort, careful to keep the condom in tact. She’s about as sleepy as I am now, and as I withdrew, she stole a peek of me staring at all the nut weighing down the tip of my condom.

It was mutually understood that we were both tapping out, but we mustered up enough energy to quickly shower up. The whole time in the shower I’m still mesmerized by her beauty, all horny-ness aside.

We towel off in about ten minutes and return to the room before I quickly throw some fresh sheets on my bed.

She basically invited herself to spend the night and who was I to say “no” to her. Cute ass. She knew she was my Achilles heel. So, as we lay in our resting position before dozing off, the question circled back around in my head...

How the hell did she know I was alone? 🤔