#you have better things to fucking do!!!!!!

[dollwrites]

ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ ｔｙｐｅ ┊ v-day weekend blurbs ( caleb )

ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ ┊ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, mirror sex, exhibitionism ( filming ), caleb gets rough, size kink, praise kink, stand-fucking, all characters featured are aged 18+

ｉｍｐｏｒｔａｎｔ ┊ i stared at caleb doing one handed pushups for like a minute solid and hit a blinker. here’s the result. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

“Hey, no moving…” you murmur in a pointed, accusatory tone the very moment you feel Caleb’s hips buck forward. your breath caught in your throat as he does; his cock notching another inch into your silken core none-too gently. “I told you to let me do it.” puffing out your lower lip in a childish pout, you cast a glance over your shoulder, peering up at a grinning Caleb, raising both arms, palms out in mock defeat.

you blinked, needing to pause to look over his countenance. sweat-dampened brown tendrils stuck to his forehead and against his temples and the very edges of his cheeks. speaking of his cheeks, there were violet in hue, with diamonds of perspiration glistening against the apples. his jaw slung, swollen lips parted to accommodate his heavy breathing, you could even see the vein on the side of his neck bulge and throb when you clench up, milking his cock in a warm vice.

“What’s the matter? Do I play too rough for your movie?” he challenged with a smile.

“Always,” you reply, squirming on your feet to welcome in his fresh, thick inch. it took some stirring, and a whole lot of primal pleasure as his heavily veined cock rubbed against your sensitive, spongy walls, to find a comfortable enough position for you to keep going. the hand gripping your phone tightens it, and you look back to the mirror, standing less than six feet from it, to ensure the angle was still perfect. you raise the phone just a quarter of an inch higher, and spread your legs wider. “I want it to be… pretty.” you settled on an almost laughable adjective, but it seemed the most fitting, as you glance up at him from the glass. the two of you lock eyes, and you shudder at the eroticism of it all. you were clad in lacy lingerie ( though, however skewed it may be, it still counted ), your makeup done, and you had chosen the best possible setting and position to ensure that you would be able to review the footage while you railed yourself on his cock— looking into the mirror. but, it wasn’t simply for your own vanity, and you remind him of that as you start to move again, pushing your ass back and forth to take the familiar inches. “You know,” you continue, trying to be as casual as possible as you explain, though your sentence is continuously marred by choking gasps and happy moans, “f—for when you’re away in Skyhaven— shhh—shit! — you’ll have something… ahhh… nice to watch…!”

“Sorry, baby girl,” his words were thick and slurred with the ever-so-subtle etching upwards of his mouth in a crooked grin. “Just couldn’t help myself, wanted to get that cute, lil’ yelp outta you. Won’t happen again, promise.” but even as he drew a cross over his heart, you could still see that twinkle of mischief in his eye. one of your brows quirk up, as if to say: i don’t believe you, and Caleb reads it immediately. with a husky chuckle, he shook his head. “Lil’ thing’s so damn suspicious.” however, he still hooked his arms behind his back in submission. widening his own, already imposing stance, you feel like a worm dangling on his hook between the gap he provided. then, he straightened his back, standing at attention. his biceps bulge, the hard and thick muscle pads of his arms dancing beneath his skin as he flexes them, more for you than anything else. it was a silent reminder of his strength— the power he was willingly giving up to you. “There, that better, baby?” he asked, his gaze softening as it roved over your back. the clasp of your bra was still held together, even though the shoulder straps had been discarded, and the weight of your breast spilled out of the loosened cups, swaying hypnotically with every move you make. still, that clasp taunted him, and he had the sudden and wicked urge to lunge forward and unclip it with his teeth rose to the surface of his resolve. he resigned, however, grinding his teeth together as his eyes followed the shape of your spine downward, instead.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he praised quietly, his brows knit close together. your pace was slow enough to frustrate him beyond measure, a steady rhythm that was a sweetly agonizing form of torture he’d only ever endure for you. “Takin’ my big cock just how you want it,” Caleb let out a low growl. against the small of his back, his fingers twitched and jerked with the desire to grip your hips tight enough to leave their shape imprinted in your skin. he shook away the thought, and clenched his fists tightly. “Fuck yourself on me, baby girl, take whatcha need.. Ah-hah, that tight, little cunny ready for another inch? Because I’m dyin’ to give it to her.” Caleb’s thighs tightened, a dull tingle settling against the base of his spine.

“You’re already so deep,” you whine back, glancing down between your legs. your cunt drooled as you speared yourself on to Caleb, over and over, and you use your free hand to dip between your thighs and scrub at their apex, strumming your swollen clit to the same speed of your riding, mewling in pleasure. “I— I can cum, just like this…” you trail off, your eyeline fluttering back to the phone screen. you could see the contortion of pleasure on your own face, and you had to admit, it was sexy to watch yourself get closer and closer. you had no doubt that Caleb would spend many a lonely night, watching this video over again, gripping his greedy cock and wishing to feel your tight cunt instead.

“Lil’ fucking tease…” he growled into your hair on the crown of your hair. the scent of your shampoo still lingered there, and it made his eyelids flutter. “I need more.”

and just like that, your control of the situation, and of Caleb, dissipated. he sucked in a ragged breath, large hands releasing themselves from their subservient position and grope at your thighs, hooking against the backs of your knees to sweep you off your feet.

“Caleb!” yipping in surprise, your phone slips from your grasp and clatters on the floor between his feet. fortunately, with this new angle, the video captures the visage of you, spread open, and Caleb already rutting like a man possessed into you. his balls, though tight with impending orgasm, are still heavy enough to spank against your clit as he pulls your body down to meet his rabid thrusting. “That’s—!”

with your knees dug into your own chest, your eyes follow the shape of your spread legs, and the mesmerizing, helpless flop of your stocking-clad feet in the air. it felt good, really good, to be fucked so animalistically, to be locked against his powerful body, at the mercy of his whims.

“Just hush up and take it now, baby girl. You’ve had your fun,” Caleb chuckles as he lowers you down to meet the upward pounding, his hips snapping against yours. “— made your cutesy, lil’ video, you got to ride for a lil’ bit, but now you get to just sit pretty and take exactly what I’m gonna give ya.” Caleb pulled you flush to his lap, burying himself balls-deep in your weeping cunt with a happy snarl tearing through his throat. his eyes flick to the mirror, “Look how precious you are, all dolled up, gettin’ ruined, all for me?” your gaze follows his, and your cheeks warm as humility rises within them. he’s right, though. even you couldn’t help but be wooed by your fucked-out state, babbling as he bounces you up and down on his cock. then, Caleb chuckles, a rough and strangled sound in comparison to his usual timbre. his gaze had listed downward, to catch the sight of the camera on the floor, capturing your decimation from a most sordid angle. “Oh, fuck yeah, I’m gonna love watchin’ your puffy, lil’ pussy get stuffed full from this angle.”

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Ride

Summary: Javi's a ride you can't resist (aka, it's more PWP LMAO)

Word Count: 1.9K

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings: It's all porn again, sorry- Javi's POV, unprotected p in v (pls do not do, but who am I to say), oral (m receiving), Javi is down BAD for you bouncin' on that thang, idk y'all, make men yearn insatiably 2025 is the motto for the year, I don't make the rules

A/N: Hey, remember when I said I was gonna write this and then didn't? Guess who finally finished this thing 🤠 Shout out to @yxtkiwiyxt for gracing my brain with this idea, and to @gothcsz for being insane about it with me!!! @jolapeno I'm dragging you into this, too heheheh y'all, it seems like it's 24/7 horny hours over here, so apologies about being insufferable for This Man™️ enjoy, before someone eventually (and inevitably) calls animal control on me!! (we're also considering this piece a research project, fellow pillow princesses rise up LMAOOOOOOO)

He doesn’t notice the way the corner of his lip has been turned upward since he left your apartment. The strain in his cheek muscles are the last part of his body he’s concerned about. 

It takes everything in him to pretend like he’s did have to waddle to his desk through the office this morning. While there’s a part of him that curses the fact he can’t handle himself the way he used to as a younger man, he’d be lying out of his goddamn teeth if he said that he’d never been happier to be this sore. 

And he’s only got you to blame. 

It’s safe to say his work efficiency is absolutely fucked today. The only thing he has the mental capacity for is the image of you, straddled across his hips, riding him until he was half way convinced he’d never walk again. 

It had started off innocent enough, your body draped across his on the couch, re-runs of a sitcom he couldn’t be bothered to remember playing in the background. It wasn’t long until you had found a way to crawl into his lap, cute and giggly pecks of your lips shifting into a frantic dance of tongues and teeth, hungry and needy. 

“Let me take care of you, Javi.” 

You had whispered it in his ear like a siren song, the sultry promise of your words making him grow harder by the second beneath you. 

It was a luxury he had forgone for too many years to count, to let someone else take the lead- to work herself slowly into his lap, worship every inch of him, and fuck him in a way he was convinced he’d never be worthy of. 

In Colombia, sex was far from luxurious. Better yet, sex was a survival instinct- a way to gain intel from questionable informants or a chance to finally numb his mind from the pressure and terror of the things he’d endured, even if just for a little while. It simply existed as another need, like food or water, a way to keep him alive in the chaos of a cartel ridden country. 

But now, he’s home. He wakes up in the morning to the soft Laredo sunrise and closes his eyes to the cicadas chirping as the sky shifts to darkness, unburdened by the weight of the world that used to haunt him. Now, he slips into bed next to the warmth and softness of your figure, curled in the sheets next to him. 

Now, the world is different, because he has you.  

Sex is no longer a need. It’s an overwhelming want that stirs his stomach every time he sees you. It’s a desire that burns deep in his chest, an all consuming thought, an itch he just can’t scratch. No matter how hard he tries, he just can’t get enough of you. 

He still doesn’t understand how you can’t get enough of him, either. 

It’s not your words that solidify his belief that he’s worthy of you, even though every time you talk to him, he’s convinced he can’t breathe- He knows you love him from all the things your words can’t say. Your tender touch, gentle kisses on his lips whenever there’s a chance for them to meet, the way you can’t help but let your hands wander his body until they’ve explored every part of him with a fervent promise of desire. 

Perhaps there will always be a part of him convinced he’s not deserving of you, but with the way you have your hands wrapped around his cock, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, it’s all the convincing he needs for right now. 

It’s not long until your hands become your mouth, tongue dragging up and down the length of his shaft, swirling around his tip before sinking down so deep, he can feel the huffs of warm air from your nostrils tickling the hairs at his base. He’s lost in the warmth and wetness, hand tangled in your hair as he cradles the back of your head, gently guiding you up and down while you take him down your throat. 

As if he wasn’t wrecked already, it’s the devilish grin you shoot him with his cock buried deep inside your mouth, split dribbling down the corners of your curled lips, that has him all but whimpering, soft expletives and moans rapidly spilling out of him. 

He’s so drunk on you, eyes closed and head tipped back against the edge of the couch, he’s barely even registered when you’ve stopped, only looking up at you when he feels the way your weight has shifted, one hand bracing yourself against his chest while your hips hover over his cock. 

“You ready for me, cowboy?” 

He swears that one day that smirk will be damn near enough to kill him, but God knows he won’t let today be that day- not with what you’re about to do. 

All he can do is nod, the both of you breathless as you begin to sink down his length. It’s almost painfully slow, the way you’re taking him an inch at a time, teasing him the whole way down until you settle with him stuffing you to the brim, whining as your hips finally flush with his, taking everything he has to give. 

He’s not sure what higher power he needs to thank that you have the mercy to start slow- anything but the later, and he would have had no choice but to finish right then and there. His arms reach around your waist, fingers dipping in the dips of your hips as you roll them, like he’s holding on for dear life. 

Javi wishes his hands could be everywhere as you lean down to kiss him, that they could grope and grab at the plush of your breasts, cup your face, and smack your ass all at once. He needs you in a way that’s all consuming, a way that lets you know how lucky he is to have every part of you be his, and his alone. 

He’s handsy and fumbling like a goddamn teenager- you know it just as well as him. He should be embarrassed by the little giggle you give him in between the muffled moans of your mouths meeting, but he doesn’t care. Instead, for the first time in years, Javi laughs along with you. 

“Handsy, much?” You tease, nostrils crinkling and lips curling. 

“Can’t get enough of you, hermosa. Can never get enough of you.” 

You grant him one last kiss before you pull away, biting down on your lip as you watch his jaw drop at the way you shift your hips, leaning back to drag your cunt up and down his cock, sliding effortlessly with the way it’s drenched with your slick. 

The once forgiving ease of your pace has dissipated, your bottom half rocking as you ride him. He can’t decipher if the sultry smile spread across your face is from your own doing, or from the way he’s looking up at you, entranced and captivated by every movement you make. 

It’s enough of the second to seem to spur you on, bouncing faster on his length as your hands creep up your own chest, cupping your breasts in your hands to hold them as they jiggle. When your fingers slide across your pebbled nipples, tweaking the hardened buds between your index fingers and thumbs, Javi all but short circuits. There’s an extra ache in the way his cock throbs, watching the show you’re putting on for him. 

There’s something harmonious about the way your moans melt with the slap of your hips meeting his. Sure, it’s lewd, but fuck, if it isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever heard, watching you lose yourself in pleasure with the warmth and wet of your pussy wrapped around him. 

“Fuck, baby. Fuck, you’re so perfect. Look so fucking pretty bouncing on my cock.” 

He’s not sure how he even has the capacity to form coherent thoughts anymore, desperate and needy babbles falling from his parted lips like an endless waterfall of praises, just for you.  

“Feels so good, Javi. So fucking good.” 

Your cocky facade is beginning to fade, eyes scrunched shut in focus with every thrust up and down his length. It hasn’t taken him long to recognize the expression now plastered across your face- Javi knows it’s the reflex that tells him you’re close, that it won’t be much longer until you’re clamping down around his cock, the sound of his name hitching in the back of your throat as you cum. 

Your once methodical rhythm has transformed into something fiercely frantic, arching your back so that you can reach behind and brace yourself on his thighs, fingertips digging deep half moons into his skin. 

He’s too all consumed to do anything but watch, to take in the beauty that radiates off of every part of you straddled across his lap. 

He relishes in the melodic symphony of your moans, muffled and mixed with expletives between heavy breaths, lost in the soft sheen of sweat glistening over your skin, shimmering from the way you’ve all but conquered him, hips grinding down on him, taking all of him over and over. 

There’s a selfish war raging in his head amidst his mesmerization- One side wishing he could stay like this forever, keep you perched over his lower half, cock stuffed inside you until your bodies give out. The other prays you cum sooner rather than later- He won’t until you do, and lord knows it’s taking every ounce of self restraint he has left to make sure that happens. 

Fuck, maybe you really are trying to kill him. 

“Oh f-fuck- Fuck, I’m close, Javi.” You whimper, your grip around his thighs growing impossibly tighter as you furrow your brow in focus, not daring to let your pace falter, not when you’ve found the spot where the head of his cock fits perfectly inside you. 

“Use me, baby. Fuck- use me, pretty girl.” 

It’s not much longer until you’ve reached your peak, feeling the way you tighten around him as you soak his length with your slick, the once steady rhythm of your hips faltering as you cum. 

Your head thrusts back, chest heaving as you cry out his name, over and over, a sound he swears he’ll never tire of as long as he’s alive to hear it. Because when it falls from your lips, it stirs something so deep inside him, knowing he’s the reason you feel this way. 

That you’re his. 

There’s only moments until Javi’s following suit, fingers buried in the soft dips of your hips as he takes one final thrust, moaning into the crook of your neck while he cums, letting your pussy milk him of everything he has to give. 

The two of you have become a hot, sweaty mess of limbs, melting into each other’s bodies, unsure of where one starts and the other ends. But even with your head rested against his shoulder, he can feel the way your cheeks tense to house the smile spread between your lips. It’s only then he recognizes the same strain in his face, the subtle smirk he can’t seem to shake whenever he’s with you. 

It’s also then he realizes, as long as he’s with you, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to. 

“What’s that grin for?” You tease, sitting up to plant gentle kisses on his cheeks, brushing away the dark curls dangling over his forehead. 

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy, you know that?”

“Well, good thing I feel the same then, huh?” 

Both your smiles stretch wider as he cups your jaw in his palm, his hand just big enough to let the ends of his fingers wrap around the back of your head, pulling your mouth to his, letting your lips lock for a moment before you break away. 

“Thanks for the ride, cowboy.” 

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[fear-is-truth]

HOW THEY CELEBRATE VALENTINE’S DAY WITH YOU

♡ warnings. — oral sex (f!receiving) ⋆ p in v ⋆ MDNI 18+ ♡ ft. — hwang in-ho (front man) ‧ nam-gyu (124) ‧ choi su-bong (230) ‧ kang dae-ho (388). ♡ jackie’s note. — very rushed; excuse the typos

HWANG IN-HO doesn’t really celebrate valentine’s day, but you’re soft, naive. you care about things like this. so he humours you. he allows you to sit in his lap, kiss him all sweet and eager, all the while grinding down on his cock. you’re wearing nothing but the necklace he bought you—thin rose gold chain, diamond-encrusted pendant nestled against your collarbone. he watches it in a trance, the pendant bouncing on your tits as you move up and down, your cunt warm and tight around him like a glove. his hands rest on your hips, guiding you even though you don’t need it—you’re already pathetically eager to please.

“thought you wanted a romantic night,” he muses, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “this what you had in mind?” you nod breathlessly, nails digging into his shoulders. in-ho likes you like this—so needy, so fucking grateful for the attention. he tilts his head back against the couch, admiring you with an amused smile, as your lips part when you take him deeper. his patience stretches thin when you start to shake, movements getting sloppy. placing both hands on your waist, he shoves you down onto him. “c’mon, you can do better than that,” fingers ghost over your stomach, closing loosely around your throat. feeling the vibrations as your breath stutters. “what, you get tired that quick?” you shake your head no, but you’re so close, squeezing around him. in-ho doesn’t look convinced in the slightest, but he lets you have it—and when you finally go limp in his arms, he strokes your hair, chuckles low against your ear. “happy valentine’s.”

NAM-GYU is far from the romantic type. tonight—valentine’s day—he’s between your legs, which is rare enough that it almost feels like a gift. he takes his sweet time with kitten licks, tongue flicking over your swollen clit before sealing his lips around it, suckling. he’s messy, too. sloppy. doesn’t care if it dribbles down his chin, doesn’t care about the obscene slurping noises. but when you whimper and your hips buck against his mouth, nam-gyu simply pries your thighs further apart. when you’re right there, teetering on the edge, he slows down a bit. lets you tug on his hair as you grind against his face. and when you fall apart, breathless and trembling, he licks his lips, swiping the slick from his chin with his thumb. then he looks up at you—so damn pleased with himself—and smirks. “happy valentine’s.”

CHOI SU-BONG is a busy man. schedules packed, deadlines looming, cameras always on him. but on valentine’s day, he clears everything for you. his team knows better than to even try and book him—he’s off the grid. the day is extravagant. private dining, exclusive shopping, things you’d never let yourself indulge in if it weren’t for him. he buys you everything you so much as glance at. waits for that little flicker of want, whips out his black and it’s yours. but the real gift comes later. back in his penthouse, su-bong lays you out on the bed, fingers tracing the fresh diamond pendant settled against your collarbone. he spares the dirty talk and doesn’t waste any time—not when you’re so wound up. his mouth is hot against your neck, kissing a path down to your collarbone, breasts. he settles between your thighs takes hold of your ankles, placing them over his shoulders. a groan escapes when he sees how ready you are for him.

“p-please. wan’ you.” you manage, and that’s all it takes—his patience snapped (not that he’s a patient man to start with), feeding his cock into you inch by glorious inch. the position has you spread wide, locked in place and unable to squirm away from the way he fills you. “señorita,” a stretched groan deep from his throat, “taking it so fuckin’ good.” each thrust knocks a little sound out of you, breathy and high-pitched. your hands claw at the silk sheets and he chuckles, adjusting his stance to angle another thrust—there, hitting that sweet spot that makes you see sparks. su-bong presses his thumbs into the soft flesh of your thighs, he’s barely getting started, but you’re already falling apart—fucked-out and glassy-eyed, just for him. “happy valentine’s, baby,” he coos, “hope you can still walk tomorrow.”

KANG DAE-HO wakes up before you do. it’s still early, the dark sky outside tinted with pale yellow, but he doesn’t mind. this morning is special. valentine’s day. he’s planned everything—breakfast at your favourite café, a walk along the han river, dinner at a rooftop restaurant. but right now, all he wants is this. you stir when he presses a kiss to your bare shoulder. warm hand drifts under the covers, tracing over your stomach, up to your ribs. his voice is still husky with sleep when he murmurs a “morning, baby.” into the crook of your neck. your eyelids flutter open, a raspy moan escaping your parted lips. his hand is now between your thighs. god, how you love waking up like this.

“you’re so pretty,” he marvels, nuzzling his nose against yours. he rolls you onto your back, hovering over you, trailing kisses down your jaw, the column of your throat before he returns to your lips. there’s no rush—there never is, not with dae-ho. when he finally pushes into you—that glorious stretch, you sigh into his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck. “gonna make today perfect for you,” he promises. and he does. he doesn’t let up until he’s wrung every ounce of pleasure from you, until you’re a soft, boneless mess beneath him, spent and sated. only then does he press a kiss to the tip of your nose, smoothing your hair back. “happy valentine’s, angel,” he smiles as he tucks you against his chest.

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[svgarseason]

 𖹭 cw: suggestive, edgy, mdni

part one | two ‹soon›

You can't say you weren't warned about your big brother's friend sukuna, but nothing could have truly prepared you for him.

"Funny looking how?" You ask, arching an eyebrow.

"Just go to your room while he's here," your brother Toji urges. "Don't need you feeding his ego, goddamnit."

"He's funny looking and somehow my presence will feed his ego?" You deadpan, with zero inclination to forfeit your comfy spot on the couch. "Make it make sense, Toji. Or better yet, fuck off so I can finish this cover letter," you gesture at the open laptop sitting on your thighs. "Faster I can get out of this shithole, the better," you grumble.

Although, your brother's place is far from a shithole, in truth. You know better than to ask how he affords it doing nothing but fucking around with the sinister assortment of thugs he calls friends. In turn, he doesn't ask you about the unfortunate circumstances that landed you in one of his spare rooms... again.

Toji groans. "Yeah he gets off on scaring people. Especially girls. Especially hot girls. And, I suspect, especially girls who are related to me."

"Gross," you say, directing you attention back to the screen. "I'm not scared of your asshole friend and I'm not moving."

Toji opens his mouth to protest further, but too late. There is a loud knock on the door followed by it crashing open and thunderous footsteps coming down the hall.

Despite more than a little curiosity regarding your brother's funny looking friend, you manage to keep your eyes on your work.

Toji is grumbling some weak attempt to direct the visitor toward the "stuff" in the garage when a shadow falls over you. Still, you continue typing.

"Who's this?" A deep voice growls. "Not gonna introduce me?"

"Just my little sister. Leave her alone, Sukuna. She's a bitch anyway."

"Fuck you, Toji. And a preemptive fuck you to you, too, whoever you a- hey, ow!" You exclaim as the newcomer slams the laptop closed on your fingers. "What the h-" the exclamation dies on your lips when you finally raise your eyes to see the largest man you have ever seen looming over you.

He is a lot to take in. You silently curse Toji for not warning you properly. "Kind of funny looking" does not even begin to describe the thing standing before you. Four crimson eyes stare back at you, two of which are set in a twisted mass of keloid scar tissue that takes up most of one side of his tattoed face. Eyes aren't the only anatomical feature he has extra of, you notice. Two sets of muscular arms protrude from the cut off sleeves of his t-shirt.

It takes a lot to render you speechless, but the sight of him does the trick. Although, you can't help but think that the smirking bastard somehow makes the odd look work for him. Yeah. 'Circus sideshow level freak but kinda hot' would've been a better descriptor. Although you manage to hold the man's gaze, you're sure your eyes are as wide as saucers. To your horror, you feel heat creeping up your neck as your lip twitches in search of something - anything - to say that might lessen the humiliation you feel. And Toji was right, this jerk is eating it up.

"Toj said you were ugly, but jesus..." you say, when you finally regain your composure.

Sukuna laughs, flashing a set of pointed canines before he abruptly turns to follow your brother towards the garage.

"I like her," he says, hooking a thumb over his shoulder in your general direction, which, for some reason, makes your heart beat a little too hard.

"No, man." Toji groans. "Just no."

[girlbeatings]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ bff!abby who you hooked up with during your experimental phase in college, giving you for sure the best orgasm of your comphet life, and yet you still fall for a douchbag guy that doesn't treat you as well as you thought he would. poor thing.

⏦ﾟ♡︎ bff!abby that helps you get ready for your wedding with said douchbag, forcing a smile and making sure you looked the part of a future lobotomised, white picket fence house wife. she felt bad for you, you had no idea what you were signing up for by accepting this ring as a sign of your 'love' and 'fidelity'. you'd probably realize way too late in life, maybe late 30s, that this is not what you wanted.

⏦ﾟ♡︎ bff!abby that feels just so sorry for you, that she holds you close and tells you how pretty you look today, the happiest day of your life. "always knew you'd make such a pretty little bride.. i mean, look at you..." her voice trails off as she tilts your chin up to guide your attention to the full length mirror. you did look pretty, the fancy white dress, perfect makeup and hair. perfect.

⏦ﾟ♡︎ bff!abby who stares at you through the reflection and gets an idea. a trip down memory lane, before you walk down the aisle.

"this fucking dress... makes you look so cute," she mumbles, her voice slightly forced as she stares at the lewd scene in the mirror. you pant and tremble, white heels dangling off your toes and the dress bunched up at your hips.

abby groans as she watches your cunt leak around two of her thick fingers, sat between her spread thighs and your back against her chest as you struggle to keep yourself together. "does he fuck you this good, baby? bet his dick isn't as big as mine, huh."

it wasn't, you know that much. abby's fingers with girthy, just two of them made you writhe and squelch, and that fucking strap she whipped out a few years ago had your sexual fantazies in a chokehold. the way you were so soaked that it just slipped in and out of your pussy without any struggle at all, the faux veins rippling against your insides and hitting all the right spots until you couldn't take it— and what did abby do then? she held you down and made you cum over and over.

your fiancé couldn't compare even if he tried, which he didn't. you were lucky if he even looked at your clit, never mind the sort of tricks abby was doing on it now.

"my pretty little girl, all dressed in white..." she murmurs, her fingers tapping firmly on your clit before rubbing in circles, watching your face scrunch up and your hips roll against her hand. "he's such a lucky man."

there's jealousy clear in her tone, because god she wants you. not just your body, she wants your fucking soul. your dna intertwined with her own. but she can't have that, because you don't like girls.

though, your face says different when her fingers stuff you full again. your head's empty at this point, so there's no lame excuse as to why you were happily letting your best friend fuck you minutes before your wedding, your soon to be husband already stood at the altar.

her fingers curl up to find that spot, smiling when your body almost lurches forward off the bed at the singeing pleasure that spikes through you. luckily, abby's arm is locked around your waist, and you stay pressed against her as she finger fucks you just how you remember— maybe even better. she clearly had more experience now. are you jealous?

"gonna fuck every vow out of that empty head." she promises, her thumb starting to abuse your clit in time with her plunging fingers, tears starting to bubble in your eyes as you writhe.

"a-abs, i'm— mmph, abby.."

"i know, wifey... pretty pussy's missed me so much, hasn't she?" she whispers, pressing a kiss to your neck as her hand continues to work perfectly between your spread legs. you know you'd think about this on your honeymoon, you'd think about her when your laid next to your husband, unhappy and yearning for her to come save you. and who knows? maybe after a few glasses of wine with your old college friend, she fucks you until you ruin that marital mattress for good.

happy valentine's day !!

⏦ﾟ♡︎ taglist !

@uhh-lana @pearlcigs @abbyspup @sunrxxyz @graciedollie @starrrcane @lilyyx0 @444fernz @tqlepatia @nvr4getme @2012wannabe @jaywritessometimes @jinxedbambi @tohoko @sapphicloverwlw @shadowmythe @fict1onallyobsessed @pornoangelz @milanyas @powderpinkandsweeet @femmecannibal @aeroti @eatencupcak3 @lils-1979 @sobersonder @dozybunny @fawncritter @nahcala @lesbones @sapphicantichrist @ethereaally @ruelezz @90yearoldbear

[sogoodtoheritsvicious]

in a world of boys, he’s a gentleman

summary: harry sings your praises in a recent interview, and you’re back with new music; leading to a surprising dm.

pairing: harry styles x reader

vicious speaks: happy valentine’s day!! 💞 mr. styles has officially entered the story!! i hope you enjoy chapter 2 <3 i took creative liberty with one of the lyrics, just so they fit the plot!!

series masterlist

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liked by alexandrasaintmleux and others

hsupdates harry gushed about yourusername in an interview today!

“i just think she’s great. she’s an incredible songwriter and seems like a really down to earth person. she’s dealt with a lot recently and handled it with such grace. i can’t wait to see what she does next.” he said. when asked his favorite song by the singer, he said “hope ur okay. it’s so beautiful!” he also got really bashful when the interviewer asked if she’s his celebrity crush and he giggled and said “yeah…yeah, i’d say she is.” what do you think, harries? is a collab in the future?

view all comments

fan1 omgggg i know yn’s off social media but i hope she’s seen this!!

fan2 i hope it’s killing that man knowing one of his favorite artists took yns side in the break up

fan3 omg alexandra in the likes!!

⤷ fan4 alexandrasaintmleux please show our girl this interview!!

fan5 fuck a collab, is a RELATIONSHIP in the future???

fan6 he needs to stay far away from yn before she tries to ruin his reputation too

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux you sound ridiculous

⤷ fan7 alex said keep her wife’s name out your fucking mouth

fan8 i just know ynharrysthird is gonna lose it when she sees this 😭 she’s shipped them for ages

fan9 a ynharry collab would be so powerful

ynharrysthird oh. my. God.

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liked by harrystyles, lilymhe and others

yourusername *taps mic* this thing on? been a minute since you’ve heard from me i know. i had to take a break to focus on healing but i’m back and ready for the next chapter!! you all have been so, so patient and you’ve sent many kind words that have helped me more than you know. as a thank you, i’ve decided to release a lil somethin’…my ep wendy is available everywhere now! 🧚🏼‍♀️

view all comments

fan1 MOTHER IS BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER

yourbff i love you and i’m so proud of you 🥹

⤷ yourusername i love you 🫶🏼

oscarpiastri hey! so this is insane!

⤷ fan2 omg does this mean no one knew about the ep until now???

⤷ yourusername it was top secret 🤫

⤷ yourbff i knew 😌

⤷ oscarpiastri of course you did

⤷ yourbff you hate me cause you ain’t me

⤷ fan3 icon 😭

carlossainz55 do you want me to kill that guy for you, queen?

⤷ yourusername LMFAO

⤷ fan4 CARLOSDKFJGKS

fan5 this ep ruined my entire day but i wouldn’t have it any other way

mclaren 🧡 ♥︎ by author

harrystyles it’s been on repeat all day ❤️ congratulations on a fantastic ep!

⤷ yourusername thank you, harry 🥹

⤷ fan6 HARRY STYLES WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

⤷ fan7 he said he’s a fan in a recent interview! he even admitted that she’s his celebrity crush

⤷ fan8 harry please shoot your shot and show her how a REAL man is supposed to treat a woman

⤷ fan9 do we think she knows about him gushing about her?

⤷ fan11 congrats yourusername on being one of the few people to get harry to comment more than an emoji

alexandrasaintmleux in this house we eat, breathe, and sleep new yn music

⤷ charles_leclerc real

⤷ oscarpiastri real

⤷ lilymhe real

⤷ alex_albon real

⤷ maxverstappen1 real

⤷ danielricciardo real

⤷ logansargeant real

⤷ mclaren real

⤷ francolapinto real

⤷ pierregasly real

⤷ francisca.cgomes real

⤷ lewishamilton real

⤷ f1 real

⤷ fan11 well between carlos’ earlier comment and now this thread, we know who got yn in the breakup 😭

itsaria so. good. 💞

⤷ yourusername 💗

⤷ fan12 what the hell sure

⤷ fan13 dump lando and date each other

⤷ fan14 what in world is going on

fan15 not you making an ep all about lando after saying you’d never talk about what happened again 🙄 keep his name out your mouth!

⤷ yourusername i never said i wouldn’t sing about it. and just so we’re clear, his name doesn’t leave my mouth in a single song, which you’ll know when you secretly stream them later.

⤷ fan16 yn 😭

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yourusername has added to their stories

replies

fan1 omg we’re being fed so well

oscarpiastri running to yt as we speak 🏃

⤷ yourusername my #1 fan

⤷ oscarpiastri think that title belongs to mr harry styles if we’re being real

⤷ yourusername pls 😭

alexandrasaintmleux love seeing my wifey everywhere lately 💕

⤷ yourusername 💞

fan2 it’s been so long since we’ve consistently gotten content that i almost don’t know how to act fkgjfjd

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harrystyles has added to their stories

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fan1 so pretty 💕

fan2 this pic is very you

yourusername 🌸🌸🌸

fan3 don’t be shy, show us your face

fan4 enjoy your day, king 💞

fan5 came back to this after yns story…you two are totally hanging out today omg

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yourusername has added to their stories

replies

lilymhe can’t wait to hear how it’s going!! ♥︎ by author

fan1 pause……harry just posted a similar pic

fan2 omg sad i missed you ☹️ i was at that cafe yesterday!!

fan3 ARE YOU WITH HARRY STYLES RIGHT NOW FKGNVKS

fan4 you and harry linking up was everything i wanted but didn’t think i’d get

carlossainz55 🍿

⤷ yourusername ?

⤷ carlossainz55 don’t mind me, just sitting back with some popcorn to enjoy the show

⤷ yourusername 😭

harrystyles 🌸🌸🌸🌸

fan5 MY PARENTS ARE TOGETHER

fan6 pretty flowers 🥰

oscarpiastri interesting…very interesting 🧐

⤷ yourusername hehehehe

yourbff i would kill to see your dms rn 😭

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taglist: @pansexualdarling @mx13sworld @willowpains @nebarious @daemyratwst @angelluv16 @ggaslyp1 @hi26loveie @kikiki81 @eugene-emt-roe @nichmeddar @callsignwidow @harryssunflower17

[bluemoonscape]

I’m overanalyzing Melissa as a character, but listen, the toxic yuri is calling.

Obviously Melissa and Shauna as a ship is pretty surprising, seeing as Mel hasn’t had very much screen time at all—even Shauna was shocked and appalled to find out she has a personality—but I do like it. A lot. It provides a catalyst for Shauna finally confronting her sexuality in a direct manner on screen and is presumably going to have some lasting effects on the adult timeline too. It’s a Jackieshauna win, at that, because this all but confirms Shauna had feelings for Jackie, and I’m relatively (cautiously) confident that it will be delved into more throughout the season to make it clear? Either way the implication is there.

Melissa herself has a chance to be so interesting in this season now. In S2, we learned very little about her as an individual at all. She was with Gen a lot, we know that. She was one of Lottie’s followers like many of the girls. Now in S3, she’s incredibly drawn to Shauna. Shauna is a powerful figure among the girls—while Nat is their group leader and Lottie is their spiritual leader, Shauna is the girl that you do not fuck with.

Her being surprised by Melissa expressing her opinions and joking around is a funny sort of fourth-wall breaker, but if you’re really delusional like me then there can be more layers to that! Melissa is one of the lesser known girls. She’s quiet and has pretty shy/anxious tendencies these first 2 eps of S3. Of course, most of what we see of her is her with Shauna, so that’s probably amplified by Shauna’s presence in those scenes—but bottom line, Melissa isn’t a powerful figure in the group. She doesn’t have an important role. She’s not one of the big dogs.

But Shauna is.

And notably, Melissa acts on her feelings for her the moment Shauna holds a knife to her throat:

She’s not just drawn to that power, but she actually physically lusts after it. Mari seems somewhat similar based on how she’s seemed to rise in the ranks and butt heads with Shauna between S2 and S3, except Melissa doesn’t push against Shauna to gain that power, but pulls her in with the allure of acceptance.

And Shauna, wow. A major facet of her character and character arc as a whole is her strong tendency towards envy. She had it for Jackie and now she has it for Nat in Jackie’s absence. She always feels inferior to someone and has to exert herself over them in some way to make herself feel better. Equal. Important. Her strategy has thus far been alienation, what with her telling Jackie she might as well leave the cabin, and now trying to oust Nat as the leader and turn the other girls against her.

But now here’s Melissa who subconsciously desires the force of Shauna’s will, is seduced by all the things that make others see her as frightening. Shauna suddenly has control over someone like (or so she perceives) Jackie had control over her. And, like Sophie Nelisse said in this interview, she has complicated feelings for Melissa because she yearns for the acceptance, but also has motive to manipulate Melissa and use her to help her turn the girls against Nat:

So Melissa makes Shauna stronger against Nat and as an individual within the group by backing her as she is in all of these photos, and Shauna makes Melissa feel more empowered, i.e. her telling Melissa “don’t” when Mari tells her to bring her a drink. Telling her “you don’t have to do that, don’t listen to her.” Except Melissa needs somebody to listen to at all times, so it’s not that she’s becoming independent, it’s that she’s turning away from serving others and choosing to serve Shauna instead.

And there’s the fact that Shauna is very likely going to project Jackie onto Melissa whether she realizes it or not BUT that remains to be seen I won’t talk don’t let me talk

Point is, I really like the unhealthy power dynamics that have already been established in Shauna x Melissa (shaulissa? shaunalissa? or just. shaunahat) and I think it’ll be a hell of a toxic yuri ride. Melissa, get behind me, I’ll protect you from the haters

[ditzydoe444]

ok first of all: i’m obsessed with your blog, it’s so beautiful and so well written!!!

but i have to say that i would looove to see more of anal-obsessed jason! like he keeps asking reader to do it again and again and again!

that hole just feels so nice and tight😫. and imagine how cocky he would get making silly little sweetheart come just from getting fucked on her ass - he’s a goner!!!

(and if i could be 🎸 anon that would be lovely!)

MDNI 18+

anal with jason todd

a/n: added anon!!

“fuck,” jason groaned as he entered your tight hole, feeling your walls clench around him as he gripped your ass tightly, your head shoved into the pillows. “jacey, slow down,” you whined at the slight burn, jason was always so eager to fuck you in your ass, and sometimes got carried away with just how hard he was going.

the sight of your puckered hole taking him so damn well was enough to make him come at the sight, and how your pussy was so desperate clenching around nothing. “you want me here too sweetheart?” jason asked lowly as he gently rubbed his fingers along your cunt, shoving them in making you mewl and whine.

jason always got off to the sound of your moans, making him fuck you harder and harder each damn time. he took pride in fucking you dumb, watching you drool all over the pillowcase with tears streaming down your cheeks whilst your whole body went limp. “m-mmph jay,” you moaned as you shut your eyes, the only thing holding your body up was his strong hands.

jason didn’t even hear what you said, his mind completely blank as he fucked you dumb. he watched as your ass ripples with each thrust, the way his cock disappeared into your cheeks. “fuck sweetheart, this view is so good,” he grunted as he spreads your ass cheeks, getting a clearer view of your hole.

you squeaked when he spat on it. his fingers gently rubbing his saliva around your hole, watching your skin glisten. “fucked you dumb have i?” jason teased as you mumbled out a response, barely understanding a single thing.

“this feels so god damn good, even better than that little cunt of yours.”

[teencopandthesourwolf]

now on a3 HERE

.

“Holy crapsticks, Derek! Some sort of warning of your imminent wolfy arrival wouldn't go amiss you know? You do own a cellphone—I've seen it with mine own two eyes!”

Derek goes to close Stiles's window, turning his head first to hide his almost-smirk.

“Hey, are you laughing at me?” Stiles asks, affronted.

Derek obviously hides it badly. Or maybe Stiles is just better at catching him out than most people.

Stiles whips off one of his socks, balls it up, and launches at Derek's head. Derek catches it easily before fully turning back around. He then sniffs at it, eagerly, just to gross Stiles out.

It smells—nice, honestly.

Stiles gags. “Oh my God, you are such an asshole.”

“Takes one to know one,” Derek shrugs.

He kind of can't help himself. It's fun getting snarky with this shithead kid, and it's been a while since he's known what fun looks like.

Derek's an asshole. And he's selfish. Does selfishness makes you an asshole by association? Whatever. He figures he's allowed to be a selfish asshole after everything. He stopped caring about social niceties a while back. Stiles—even if undeserving of a selfish asshole like Derek messing up his life more than it's already messed up—doesn't seem to give two shits about that sort of thing anyway.

There is also something awfully delicious about watching Stiles get riled up. That little jackrabbit heart of his thumping even faster against his frail, human ribcage; those usually pale as the moon cheeks flushing hard as he blushes beautifully from a baby pink through to a deep, blood red.

Selfish Asshole is a pretty good position to be in from where Derek is currently standing, watching a satisfyingly scarlet-faced Stiles flail his skinny arms about like an inflatable tube man outside a cheap car sales room.

He asks Derek what he wants and Derek thinks, you.

It's not exactly a revelation. He's had thoughts. Thoughts he's acted on when he's horny and has a precious few minutes to himself. He'd thought it was just a physical thing, at first.

Until the pool.

He licks at his lips and tastes both Stiles's irritation and his desire.

It's the same for him. Stiles annoys the living crap out of him, but he makes his dick hard too. Plus his heart a little soft, dammit.

It's fucking annoying.

Even more irritating is how there are rules for this shit, ones he actually finds himself wanting to abide by for once. He doesn't really know why but maybe it's because everyone he's been with since the fire has thought he was human, and he doesn't have to pretend with Stiles. Maybe he just likes Stiles more than he thought he did.

He rolls his eyes (not just at Stiles) and shucks Laura's old record bag off his shoulder before opening it and carefully taking out its contents.

“Here, take this.”

Stiles eyes him suspiciously before reaching out and taking the small-ish bundle from Derek's grasp, looking at it as though it might be poisoned. It could be for all Stiles knows, he supposes. The kid sniffs at it with only a fraction of the enthusiasm Derek had for Stiles's sock.

“Dude, why in the name of all that is sacred have you brought me a nosegay? Like, what the fuck is this shit? Looks like a really old Dolmades and smells like, like, I dunno, like somebody shoved a bunch of dead flowers in my Dan-O's jar of Italian Herb seasoning, man. Dear lord,” Stiles complains, holding the homemade smudge stick in the air between a finger and thumb as if it's a dead rat.

…which Derek very much could have gone with instead of an apotropaic charm. To be fair, if he'd chosen an offering as a token of his affections, it probably would've been something a little larger like a rabbit.

Stiles should think himself lucky.

“It's a smudge stick, you idiot,” Derek informs the kid, rolling his eyes again for good measure, and reason. His sockets perpetually ache around this dumbass.

He tosses his bag onto Stiles's desk chair, and himself onto Stiles's bed. Hiding out here a while back left him fairly comfortable around the place.

“Oh! I've read about these a ton on like, magic sites and shit, just—I never actually saw one IRL before.”

Derek scoffs. “Nobody actually says IRL in real life, genius.”

“Well they clearly do, Douchey Mc Dickbag, because I just said it, right here, right now,” Stiles sasses and pulls his tongue out at Derek.

Derek wants to bite and suck on it.

“You don't count. You're not real; you're just one of my recurring nightmares,” he sasses right back because it's fun to.

Selfish asshole.

“Awww, Der-bear! So you not only bring me what is essentially a bunch of flowers on Valentine's Day, but you dream about me too? Honestly, I didn't know you cared, big guy!” Stiles moons, clutching the smudge stick to his chest like a fool.

There's a record scratch moment where Derek has to go back over what Stiles just said.

Valentine's Day?

Before giving himself a chance to panic at the extra pressure this brings, he hears himself saying, “What if I am? And what if I do?” because maybe, actually, thinking about it, this will make it easier for Stiles.

Stiles's heartbeat stutters as he sucks in a big, staccato breath that Derek doesn't think he necessarily meant to take, and he sounds a little incredulous when he whispers, “What?” on the exhale.

Derek gets up off the bed and lopes over to where Stiles is standing, planting himself directly in front of the kid, their noses practically touching. He watches, rapt, as Stiles' cheeks go from moon rocks to rose petals to pools of blood, in a matter of seconds.

“There's white sage and sweetgrass and cedar. And yarrow. Wild indigo. Marigolds, too. And, uh, chamomile and mugwort and rosemary and bay. It's for protection. For you. Because,” he pauses, then thinks fuck it, before barrelling on. “Because I want to protect you, dip-shit,” Derek tells him and hopes, and hopes, and hopes.

I don't know who's gonna protect you from me though, he thinks as Stiles swallows. It sounds like a rock in a lake.

“Oh,” Stiles breathes, batting those long, pretty lashes up at Derek as if he has no idea what effect it has on his predatory nature.

He's never known Stiles to speak in one word sentences before now, and he thinks he very much likes knocking the sass right out of the brat like this.

Stiles squirms a little. “Um, I feel kinda bad, now,” he lies, looking down at the singular sock he's still wearing. He doesn't feel bad at all. He smells of pride and excitement and arousal. “I don't have anything to give you.”

Derek says, “Yeah you do; you started leaving your window open again, ” because they both know that ever since the pool, Stiles wants to trust Derek.

This is not a good idea, he thinks. But Derek is a selfish asshole—remember?

He licks at a canine, and Stiles whimpers.

Fuck, Derek thinks as he says, “Also, you could let me do this,” and licks Stiles from jaw to hairline, before he's nestling his entire face into Stiles's neck with a satisfied growl.

“Oh my fucking fuck, Derek, I am so nosegay for you,” Stiles literally whines, and Derek grins as he nips at the kids throat. “It's Happy Valentine's to the both of us then, I guess,” Stiles practically hums, flinging the smudge stick onto his desk before pushing Derek backwards to fall gracelessly onto his bed.

And for the first time in his life Derek thinks, thank fuck for Saint Valentine's.

.

completely unedited so pls be kind, and a very HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY 💕 — awoooooooo!

[heeluvv]

𝐒𝐇𝐄❜𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ִֶָ☾.

pairing ⏾ sister's bf! lee heeseung x reader

genre ⏾ smut

warnings ⏾ blowjob, p in v, unprotected sex, cheating, etc.

natty's notes ⏾ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

you feel his gaze even when you’re not looking.

it burns into your skin like an open flame, scorching and heavy, even as he sits across the room, his lips locked with your sister’s.

she’s curled up against him on the couch, giggling into his mouth, fingers tangled in his hair as she kisses him like she’s the only one in the world who matters to him.

but you know better.

because even with her pressed against him, even with her whispering sweet things in his ear, he’s not looking at her.

his eyes are on you.

your stomach twists, an icy dread creeping up your spine as you shift in your seat, refusing to meet his stare. but you feel it—deep, piercing, and utterly unashamed.

heeseung doesn’t look at you the way your sister thinks he does. he doesn’t glance, doesn’t spare you a passing acknowledgment like a normal boyfriend would.

he watches.

you hate it.

you hate him.

there’s something wrong with him, something lurking beneath that perfect smile, beneath the charming words and effortless affection he showers your sister with. something that makes your skin crawl.

you tried to tell her once.

you sat her down, voice trembling as you tried to explain the way heeseung’s eyes linger too long, the way his presence feels suffocating whenever you’re alone with him. you told her about the way he always finds an excuse to be near you, how his touches are fleeting but intentional—how you feel like a mouse in a cat’s cage every time he’s around.

but she only scoffs.

“god, you’re so jealous,” she had said, rolling her eyes. “you're so fucking pathetic. you always do this—always trying to ruin things for me just because no one wants you. maybe if you weren't so miserable and desperate for attention, you wouldn't have to make up lies about my boyfriend.”

jealous.

that’s what she called it.

as if the way heeseung’s gaze strips you bare, as if the way he devours you with his eyes, as if the way he makes you feel like you’re being hunted is something as simple as jealousy.

now, as you sit stiffly in the armchair, fists clenched in your lap, you force yourself to ignore the way his fingers grip your sister’s waist—because you know, you just know, that he’s imagining it’s you instead.

your sister pulls away first, breathless, lips swollen from the way heeseung had been kissing her like he was starving. she giggles, murmuring something to him before she turns toward the hallway, her attention stolen as your parents call for her from another room.

and just like that, she’s gone.

leaving you alone with him.

you hear him shift on the couch, the soft creak of the leather as he spreads his legs wide, making himself comfortable like he owns the place. like he owns you.

you don’t dare look at him.

but you feel him.

his gaze is heavy, suffocating, dragging over every inch of your body like an invisible touch. it makes your skin prickle, makes your pulse hammer in your throat.

you try to focus on something—anything—but the weight of his stare is too much, pressing into you like a brand.

then he hums, low and amused.

“why aren’t you looking at me, baby?”

his voice is rough, raspy, laced with something thick and dark that seeps into your bones and coils around your spine.

a shiver racks through you before you can stop it.

heeseung catches it, of course.

he sees everything.

you can hear the smirk in his tone as he tilts his head, his fingers tapping idly against his thigh.

“i know you feel me looking at you…” he murmurs.

his words slither under your skin, wrapping around you, suffocating.

your fingers tighten into fists in your lap, your body rigid as you force yourself to keep your eyes anywhere but on him.

but he doesn’t like that.

heeseung tuts under his breath, shifting forward slightly—close, too close.

“don’t be shy,” he drawls, voice dipping even lower, his gaze burning into your profile. “look at me.”

your stomach twists.

you don’t want to. you can’t.

because if you do, you know exactly what you’ll see.

the hunger in his eyes.

the ownership.

the satisfaction of knowing he already has you exactly where he wants you.

he scoffs, the sound sharp and condescending, like he’s already tired of your defiance.

you don’t have to see him to know he’s annoyed—the air between you feels heavier, thicker, charged with something dangerous.

then comes the tsk, a slow, deliberate sound of irritation, followed by his voice—low, sharp, demanding.

“fucking look at me, y/n.”

you stiffen.

his tone leaves no room for argument. no space to escape.

your breath hitches as your body betrays you, your head slowly turning until your eyes are forced to meet his.

they’re dark, hungry, full of something that shouldn’t be there.

your stomach knots, heat creeping up your neck as his gaze pierces into you, drinking in your every reaction.

“is it that fucking hard to just listen?”

you gulp, your throat dry, fingers clenching against your thighs as your entire body tenses.

you can’t answer. your mouth won’t move.

you shift in your seat, discomfort rolling off you in waves, your gaze flickering toward the hallway—toward the only place that feels safe.

but heeseung sees. he always sees.

and he doesn’t like it.

there’s a low exhale, almost a growl, before he moves.

your heart jumps to your throat as he pushes off the couch, his long strides closing the distance between you before you can even think about moving.

he looms over you, his frame casting a shadow, his eyes scanning every inch of you like he’s starving.

then—he groans. deep. guttural. pained.

your chest tightens.

you don’t understand why until he’s right in front of you, until you finally see it.

the thick strain in his pants.

your breath catches, the realization slamming into you all at once, your entire body going rigid as heeseung reaches out, his fingers threading into your hair—not gentle, not soft, but possessive. claiming.

“this is what you do to me, y/n…”

his voice is husky, dripping with frustration, with need.

your lips part, your mind scrambling for something—anything—to say, but all that comes out is a broken, breathless whisper.

“heeseung… w-what are you doing?”

his fingers tighten, his head tilting slightly as he watches you, drinking in the panic in your eyes, the way your lips tremble, how your thighs press together as if you’re trying to disappear.

but he’s not letting you go.

not now. not ever.

“teaching you a lesson,” he murmurs, his grip firm, his eyes alight with something sick and possessive.

“one you should have learned a long time ago.”

his fingers worked swiftly, unzipping his pants with a harsh, metallic rasp, freeing his hardened length to the cool air. his hands, strong and sure, began to stroke his cock, the soft skin gliding over the steel beneath. a symphony of soft groans escaped his parted lips, each one humming with pent-up desire. you sat rooted to the spot, your feet heavy as stone. even if you wanted to, you couldn't move, frozen in this tableau of tension and forbidden yearning.

a wave of shame crashed over you as you felt a spark of arousal, unbidden and unwanted, kindling within you. it spread like wildfire, fanned by the sight of heeseung stroking himself, his eyes locked onto yours. it was wrong, every fiber of your being screamed it. he was your sister's boyfriend, her trust wrapped around him like a shroud.

he moved closer, his shaft heavy and insistent as it tapped against your lips, leaving a trail of silken warmth. "open up," he commanded, his voice harsh and unyielding, brooking no argument.

"heeseung-" you began, your voice barely a whisper, but it was swiftly muffled as he slid his long, girthy length into your mouth, filling it completely. the world narrowed to this singular act, the taste of him, the feel of him, the raw, primal power of it all.

his moans clawed their way out of his throat, a primal sound he futilely attempted to smother, aware that your family was merely a whisper away, tucked behind thin walls. his hands navigated to the back of your head, fingers digging into your hair like a man possessed, as he guided your mouth onto him. his shaft delved into the depths of your throat, your gag reflex constricting around him, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. he tilted his head back, eyes rolled to the whites, lost in the sensation. "fuck, you're so much better than her, baby…" he groaned softly, his balls beating out a steady rhythm against your chin, punctuating each thrust.

your pleas were stifled by his flesh, his head lolling back as he guided your head down on him. your hands fluttered against his thighs, a desperate morse code of dissent, but to no avail. he was enthralled by the way you felt, you were more than good, you were exquisite.

"oh shit… baby…" he moaned, his eyes now meeting yours as tears welled up and spilled over, tracing silvery paths down your cheeks. "you're so fucking cute… taking my dick so well, baby…" he grunted, his voice a low, primal rumble, like the distant thunder of a storm about to break. his eyes, hooded with lust, bore into yours, and his teeth were bared in a savage grin, a conqueror's smile, as he reveled in your helplessness, in your submission to his carnal desires. the room filled with the raw, primal sounds of his pleasure, a symphony of grunts and groans that seemed to echo off the walls, a brutal, intimate serenade.

he swiftly separates you from him, his hands gliding down to your pants with a sense of urgency, pulling them down in one fluid motion, along with your panties, which are unexpectedly damp against your skin. there's no hesitation as he thrusts his hard length into you, his hand swiftly covering your mouth to stifle the cries that spill from your lips, muffling them into soft, desperate whimpers.

“god, baby…” he groans, his brow knitting together with the intensity of his pleasure. “loosen up for me, baby; you're so fucking tight…” he murmurs, his voice trembling with the overwhelming sensation of your snug warmth enveloping him, his entire body quivering with the exquisite friction.

the narrowness of your walls does little to impede his frenzied rhythm as he slams into you, the couch quaking beneath your combined weight. you're astonished that your sister hasn't returned yet, and even more so that neither of you hear her approaching, given the racket you and heeseung are making. his moans escape in a relentless stream, his lips pressed firmly against your ear, one hand clamped tightly over your mouth to stifle any noise from you because you don't know how to be anything but loud.

"f-fuck, baby…" he growls, his voice a low, husky rumble in your ear. "taking your sister's boyfriend's cock like a good girl, huh?" his taunts are cruel, his pace unyielding. "or are you just a whore for any fucking dick, huh?"

your whines are muffled beneath his hand, but he hears them nonetheless, crystal clear. your eyes are filled with tears, your vision blurred by the salty streams that stain your cheeks. the room is a whirlwind of sensation and sound, your bodies moving in a brutal, desperate dance. the air is thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the couch creaking like a old ship in a storm.

your walls constrict further, echoing the tautness in your stomach that twists and tightens with each passing second. as you clench, electric shocks radiate through heeseung's body, drawing out moans that grow more intense with every breath. "fuck, baby…" he gasps, his voice a ragged whisper, "you’re going to make me cum any second now if you keep clenching on me like that…" his hands, strong and insistent, press your head down into the plush cushions of the couch, while he lifts your lower body, adjusting the angle to plunge deeper into you. the new position amplifies every sensation, every thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

"hm! fuck, heeseung!" you cry out, your voice muffled against the couch cushion, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. "fuck yeah…" he growls, his movements escalating to a primal, relentless rhythm. "fuck yeah, baby, say my name again…" his voice is a low, desperate plea, urging you on as the world around you blurs into a haze of pure, unadulterated sensation.

the scent of your arousal fills the air as heeseung's cock pumps into you. sweat drips from his face and onto your back, rolling down your curves. your hands grip onto the couch, your fingers digging into the fabric. you push back against him with every thrust, your body begging for more.

every sense is heightened, every nerve alight, but guilt is notably absent. all you can do is marvel at the way heeseung's touch ignites something within you, a magic that dances through your body like a spell. your sister's words echo in your mind, and you begin to wonder if she was right. perhaps there was a kernel of jealousy buried deep within you. she never deserved this, never deserved him. heeseung was not the man for her. your thoughts scatter like startled birds as you feel your climax approaching, your body trembling with anticipation.

"shit! hee!" you cry out, your voice muffled against the cushion as waves of pleasure crash over you. your release coats heeseung completely, your body convulsing with the intensity of it all.

he throws his head back, tendons taut against his neck as he grows his own release. "oh fuck, baby…" he groans, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder. he bursts within you, a hot, thick rush that fills you completely, overwhelming your senses. your legs shake as his essence overflows, trickling down your skin like a river of sin.

in that moment, you know you've crossed a line, but you can't find it in you to care. wrong or right, you are intoxicated, addicted to this dance of desire. and you know, with a clarity that is almost cruel, that you won't stop. your fates are intertwined, a tangled web of passion and betrayal, and there's no turning back now.

natty's notes ⏾ okay first of all i wanted to thank y'all for all the support on cramped, i am extremely grateful for it and i honestly can't believe it hit 1K that is unbelievable!! but anyways i have written abt my man so i hope you guys love this just as much as my others, tysmmmmm ilygs !!!

[adventremnant]

tips that aren't the same list from 2006

you know exactly what dumbass list I mean, and none of that shit is practical, it's giving uwu ana butterfly and we all know it

hi, I'm angel, I'm a nutrition major, and here are tips to keep yourself safe and hide your eating habits that actually make sense. this will not be in any particular order, but

avoid ketosis. i know, i know, you heard it burns fat faster! it also makes you smell like a dog rolled in sharpies and makes you stupid. i'm not kidding, you will be slow as fuck. avoid keto at all costs, carbs are better and healthier than being caught and dumb

take electrolytes and pay close attention to your potassium intake. if you neglect this, you will damage your heart and muscles and run the risk of having a heart attack. i use liquid IV because I have POTS and need the extra sodium, but that brand is also good for ED-havers because it has extra b vitamins

take ultra strength prenatal vitamins. they contain extra folate, fish oil, and dha, all of which are necessary to protect your heart and brain when you're not intaking much food.

For other supplements, I recommend Metamucil to keep your bowels going, iron, vitamin c packets (will make the iron absorb better, I personally use the +immunity ones), b-complex, calcium-magnesium-zinc, and vitamin d. Make sure the b-complex contains b-12. Feel free to send me an ask or dm me for dosages because some of these will depend on where you live geographically or what food you are eating.

find a protein shake you like. I'm a muscle milk bitch personally, but fairlife, premier, etc, are all good. make sure it isn't a meal replacement shake, and make sure it contains at least 20g of protein. these contain vitamins beyond protein that will help you stay healthy. the protein will also keep you full. i recommend using it as milk in coffee because the coffee will also suppress hunger and act as a mild laxative without harming the bowels. don't take your iron along with this, as dairy will hinder the absorption of iron.

don't take laxatives. you're going to give yourself IBD. maybe once a month as an extra cleanout you can do a little miralax, but the natural route is always better. regularly drink coffee and drink specifically senna green tea, they're both natural laxatives. the metamucil i recommend will also keep you going. if you need a bigger laxative effect, blend a whole peeled and seeded orange, a few inches of peeled fresh ginger, juice from a whole lemon, add a tsp each of cracked black pepper and turmeric, blend with coconut water until it's a thin smoothie consistency. drink that, you'll be good.

the best thing you can do for yourself is hide your behaviors behind health food gym girlie orthorexic behaviors. nobody takes orthorexia seriously and they encourage those behaviors. you can cut out whatever the hell you want if you're crunchy and healthy about it.

don't go too crazy about it. old tips would tell you to act like you loved food and it's really obvious. being obsessed with food and cooking is weird and obvious. don't talk about food constantly and make it your whole personality to try to hide, it's bizarre and one of the signs they tell parents to look out for. you have to be nonchalant. food is whatever. you like it, you have favorite meals, but you get tired of tastes quickly, you're picky about textures, you don't like it once it gets cold, etc. it's just fuel and it's meaningless to you. you eat for your health, not for pleasure.

high impact workouts like HIIT and running may not be the best idea. some studies show that high impact exercise stimulates hunger hormones in some individuals. pilates, ballet, and yoga are low impact, high results, and give a very desirable aesthetic. they're also quiet and can be done with a yoga mat and maybe a theraband.

get a job. get a hobby. join a sport. being out of your house as much as possible gives you the largest opportunity for excuses. oh my job catered lunch, oh there were snacks at practice, oh so and so brought something to the knitting circle. this can also be an opportunity to earn or save money (or swindle your mom out of cash by obtaining money for concessions at games and then only getting a diet coke)

if you control your own food, maximize your nutrition. salmon, tuna, sardines. kale, chard, spinach. beans, lentils. berries. protein pasta. pasture raised eggs. the fancy filtered fairlife milk. your body will hold out so much longer if you're keeping it fueled with proper vitamins and minerals.

track your food using cronometer - if someone sees it on your phone and asks, you have a perfect built-in excuse. oh, you don't care about the calories, but it tracks vitamin and mineral intake, and you're trying to make sure you're getting enough of those because you have, say, an iron deficiency or you're worried you're not getting enough omega-3s.

anorexic hair is really obvious. it's from malnutrition and stress. absolutely ensure you're getting enough omega-3s and other fats in your diet (avocados, eggs, oily fish, nuts like walnuts) to avoid the anorexia hair and the sallow, dry skin. this is also why i insist you take vitamin d, iron, vitamin c, a b-complex, and a pre-natal with folate and dha, those will also protect your hair and skin health. also make sure you're trimming dead ends, get a deep conditioner and/or bond repair treatment, do scalp massages, and if it does fall out, start using a mousse for volume and get a cut to maximize volume to hide it.

keep up your oral, skin, and nail health, too. these can also be obvious indicators. if you're taking the vitamins and keeping to the foods i'm recommending, it'll help, but make sure you're brushing and flossing, use the nasty brown listerine, a good dry skin lotion like curel, and a nail oil. keep your nails short if they start peeling, but if they're peeling, you need to take more vitamin d and iron, or you could have celiac disease.

there's no such thing as a broken metabolism, and you can't boost or slow down your metabolism. those are myths. the only way to make your bmr higher is to have more muscle.

extra tip: if you start fainting, tell people you have or think you have POTS. work smarter not harder.

[silvershadow1711]

To everybody saying this applies to D.W. from Arthur, it absolutely doesn't.

D.W. is 1000% the kind of person who wants to be the boot and has been from the start. She wants to be the oppressor. She wants the power to make people do what she says, and the power to punish them if they don't fall in line with her wishes (seriously; girl dreamed of becoming a straight-up super villian because she wasn't invited to the birthday party of someone she wasn't even friends with). She will push you, and push you, and push you to the edge, and the second you fight back, she turns on those white woman tears and plays the victim to a T (do y'all remember her "apology" to Arthur after destroying his model? Blaming him/the model- "why would you make a plane that doean't fly"- and playing up her own victimhood- "well I'm just a little girl, how am I supposed to know that the thing you keep telling me not to touch is fragile?" That is not a fucking apology and if she had better parents, they would teach her that).

If that show were still being made in the current age, I have no doubt in my mind that she would call ICE on the Molinas after Vicita beats in her a game or something. That is exactly the level of scheming pettiness I expect from that child, and hearing that she grew up to be a cop was the most in-character ending you could give a character. The only thing that would fit her better is being a CEO, and I mean that as derogatorily as possible

cartoons were wacky for making us believe this trope

[maudie-duan]

Summary: If you love me right, then who knows, I might let you make me Juno...Harry’s is the hot owner of a coffee shop you frequent. What are the odds he’s been dying to get your number??? A/N: Shout out to @howling-wolf97 for the request!! From my new Sabrina Series: Harry One Shots inspired by lyrics from our favorite little icon, Sabrina Carpenter.

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Word Count: 10.2k

Warning: 18+ fluff/smut

Marie: Dude, is that for real? 

Y/N: Yes! Like we were talking, and for some reason, I felt bold and was like, prove it. 

Marie: Wow! Very bold for my prude whittle bb. 

Y/N: Omg, dude, I’m not a prude. I’m just shy, and honestly, I’m so proud of myself. He makes me so freaking nervous. He’s so fuuuuuucking hot. 

Marie: God bless his dad’s genetics! 🍆🍆🍆

Y/N: I know!! The whole package! 

Marie: He’s practically offering it up on a silver platter, bitch. You better hop on that…like for real! That’s the kind of dick for freaky shit…lol. 

Y/N: You’re annoying. Yeah, he seems very sure of himself, like it’s almost intimidating. I feel like there’s no guessing. He hasn’t really pushed the sex thing. That part was just random. That was the first time we talked about it. Do you think I’m objectifying him by sending you that? Fuck, I just got excited.

Marie: Definitely, but only if you tell him you did it, and it sounds like he wants you! Omg! now you have someone to try those pink fuzzy handcuffs with…the ones I bought you for Christmas. 

Y/N: Maybe…who knows? 

Marie: Maybe he was warning you, preparing you for what’s to cuuuummm! And that’s you, girl! 

Y/N: Jesus.

Marie: Just saying…

Y/N: I have to go! I’m about to grab some coffee. I hope his hot ass is working!! 

Marie: Maybe he’ll make you come a latte…

Y/N: I hate you! bye!

Marie: You love me, and I’m happy you finally have someone decent on your radar! I’m sure he adores you, and you’re just overthinking it. Just talk to him. Text me if you see him. I want to know everything! 

You saw him the second you walked into the coffee shop—It only took you ten minutes to hype yourself up enough to walk inside, but here you were. 

In the midst of your prep talk, after you sorted through all the possible scenarios, you decided the best thing you could do was place a mobile order, that way if he wasn’t there, you could be in and out, but as soon as your eyes landed on the mobile counter Harry, your boy wonder barista, was chatting up some cute blonde, her friend standing close by. 

You could relate to the friend, staring doe-eyed, a stargazed smile playing at her mouth, and as you watched, you imagined that if her long hair was freed from her high ponytail, she would be twirling the long strands around her finger, tossing it over her shoulder every time her friend laughed, or Harry’s eyes moved to hers. She had that desperate third-wheel energy, and although you knew the feeling, the second-hand embarrassment gutted you from across the room, your insides crawling up as you witnessed the blonde let out a screechingly high laugh, one that felt way too forced, almost halting you in place as you made your way over to the counter, and you tried not to make a face.

This wasn’t the first time you had noticed pretty stragglers, the girls that lingered a little too long, and being the owner of this shop, he had an effortless way of collecting them, you chalking it up to good customer service because he was always going to need the business. You knew you could never be mad about this part because it was part of his livelihood. 

Especially when, as soon as you were in Harry’s line of sight, his eyes found yours, a broad smile spreading across that gorgeous face, and dammit, if you weren’t dying to follow through with whatever he may have been implying the other night.

Because shit, when he sent you that pic, his rock-hard cock standing tall, and those fucking tattoos marking his v-cut. He had your head spinning. You weren’t even a dick pic, girl, and there you were drooling over the thought of that dick inside you, and honestly, you weren’t even sure why you asked for a picture in the first place—a dick is just a dick in your book, but there was something about just knowing, that horny thought tickling the back of your mind any time you saw him standing behind that coffee bar. 

The strange part was that you hadn’t even talked to him since. That was four days ago, and for some reason, you were too scared to speak to him. I guess there were other reasons: you had been busy with work, starting that new internship—more like a glorified assistant position—the first two days were long and grueling, and it gave you a few extra days to sit on the thought, but then you realized texting back would make it real, right? What kind of response was he expecting? 

It was late when he sent the picture, so it was understandable if you had fallen asleep, but you also weren’t sure if you not responding, pivoted the vibe, and now there was only one way to find out.

Yes, you were, without a doubt, interested, but you had been out of the dating game for a while; you couldn’t even remember the last time you had sex. It would be nice; he could definitely break you in, clear the cobwebs, pick you up, and dust you off because a toy can only do so much, and lately, you’ve only been taking it out on special occasions…whatever that means.

And let’s be real; you’ve been doing anything to justify your barren behavior. Who even needs a special occasion to get off? What were you turning into? You were getting way too comfortable in your independent ways, and while that’s great for most, it was okay to loosen the reigns every once in a while and get your metaphorical “dick sucked” because you deserved it; you deserved this, and as you reach the counter, Harry is pulling your drink toward him, a sly smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, while the blonde talks at him. 

“Unfortunately, I have very little free time these days, but I can definitely ask the crew if they’re interested in any…was it pilate classes?” He asks the blonde as her flirty smile falters ever so slightly, almost giving herself away, and your eyes move back to your drink, now clasped in his hand on the counter.

“Here, why don’t I get your number…I can, like, send you the info or something…” and you have to admit, it was smooth, the perfect segway to land the cute coffee shop owner’s number. 

Then your eyes flick to Harry, who’s patting his pockets, searching for his phone, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head, “You know what? I don’t have my phone…”

And just when you think he’s distracted, you reach forward across the counter, ready to swipe your drink and run, but he’s quick, strangely aware of your presence, and he snatches up the drink, a smile on his face as he says, “Maybe Jen at the register has a pen and paper you can write it down…” Then his eyes sweep to yours, sending you a wink—a fucking wink, and you have to stop your jaw from dropping because as soon as the blonde picks up on the interaction, she scoffs under her breath and looks over at her friend.

“Hi…” He says, giving you his full attention, and from the corner of your eyes, you can see the blonde standing there dumbfounded, maybe rarely getting rejected because you can definitely tell that’s a pilates body, the perfect canvas for her matching Lululemon set, and when her friend tugs on her arm, you bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile.

“I’m here to pick up a mobile order…” you tell him, fainting innocence because, after all, you were the one that never texted him back.

Harry looks down at the drink in his hand, “Hmmm…did you order a grande London Fog with oat milk, no vanilla, sub brown sugar…” and Jesus, the way he says sugar makes you want to lick your lips, the word glazing over his tongue; that British drawl never getting old.

“Embarrassingly enough, yes…but it sounds ridiculous when it’s said out loud like that, shhhhh….” you say, reaching for your drink, but he only pulls it further out of reach. He’s in a playful mood this morning, and you can tell he’s not holding a grudge for your sudden onset of silence because it was kind of sudden.

After you ran into each other at that John Mayer concert, the one your sister forced you to go to—You only remembered a few of his songs from childhood, the ones your sister played to death, so you spent that night drinking, pregaming before the show, you know, being a supportive sister until her boyfriend decided to come at the last minute, making you the tag along.

As soon as the music started playing, it wasn’t that bad. The whole set was acoustic, his smooth voice echoing off the stone mountains, the weather perfect as the stars twinkled above, and really, it was the perfect concert to sit cozied up to your boyfriend so you couldn’t be too mad at your sister because it was nice seeing her this happy. So, when you snuck away to use the bathroom, you weren’t expecting to run into your favorite hot barista, and what are the odds that he would be alone? 

He was standing in line for a drink, and you were just tipsy enough to follow through with a, “Oh hey…Harry, right?” like an idiot because you definitely didn’t know him like that, and surely it was weird on your part, approaching him like you had ever formally introduced yourself. 

Every transaction you guys have ever had was him being friendly because it was his job, right? Like for example, you knew his name only because he wore a name tag, not because you’ve ever taken the time to ask him, and maybe he’s asked you a few questions here and there, but you had seen him do that plenty of time, whether you were waiting in line or sitting in the cafe before you finished school, you know, a friendly shop owner trying to get business and that’s what you thought, but then he called you by name, and this was new because you couldn’t remember if you had actually heard him say it directly to you—you would have remembered the way it fell from his perfect lips as you watched his dimples dip into his cheeks.

And once you got over the initial shock of him knowing your name, him clearing the air, trying to play it down, telling you he sees a lot of regulars out and about, you said, “I guess I thought I flew under the radar…” which was silly, because what the fuck did you mean by that and what did you know about planes, then he laughed and told you:

“I’ve definitely noticed you on many occasions…” As a clever smile turned up the corners of his mouth, you felt it: the heat creeping up your neck, your cheeks warming as his eyes swept over your face, stealing your focus, and it was sudden, his effect as the noise began to fade—a head rush—then the world started slowing down around you, your heart echoing in your ears. When he smiled, he licked his lips, and you watched as that smile spread into a knowing grin, and just like that, you were hooked, like magnets, for the rest of the night.

Then, somehow, it was all smooth sailing, and that’s the part that gets you later when you look back on that night. It was like a miracle from the fucking universe because what were the chances—and when he offered to buy you a drink, and you found out he was there by himself, you felt brave enough to ask if he wanted to join you because fuck being the third wheel when you had a chance to chat up the hot-ass coffee shop owner. 

You couldn’t believe your luck. How many times did Harry lean over and whisper in your ear? His deep voice like velvet brushing down your spine, and each time, Harry inched closer and closer until you were shoulder to shoulder. With every movement he made, you felt him—hyper-aware of everything, all the little detail as John Mayer practically set the mood, him ending the concert with ‘Your Body Is A Wonderland,’ and thank the fucking stars up above because, dammit, if that song hasn’t become Harry’s theme song in your head because nothing else will do because now you would have that moment forever, floating across your memory.

When Harry politely placed his hand on your knee, whispering, “We should exchange numbers….” as John said his thanks, wishing everyone a good night, you sat there wishing you could end this night with Harry’s lips on yours.

Maybe in another universe, Harry would have kissed you goodnight, but you were with your sister, and you had already made plans with her. So when sister tried to play matchmaker and invite him to join you guys after, he graciously declined, telling you guys he had to open in the morning, and that’s when you realized you were actually okay with his not joining. You needed time to digest this evening, mull it over until it was real, and as you floated still on a high from the evening to the car, there you were, sending him a text just before your phone died.

That night, as you crawled into bed hours later, still riding that same high. Harry’s face was fresh on your mind, familiar but in a new light. 

All you could think about were those fleeting moments when you guys traded phones—Both of you entering each other’s numbers as you stole a quick glance at Harry’s shakey fingers, typing away at your keyboard—There was something so vulnerable about the idea of your phone being in his hand, of you holding his, an act of trust right off the bat, you thought as you plugged in your phone— a hazy daydream of Harry’s fingers playing out, picturing his yellow nails, each one marked with a happy face, and it’s exactly how you felt, how he made you feel.

Because how did it happen? And when your phone came back to life, there was his name, Harry Styles, a message setting the tone for all the weeks to follow:

H: Hi, Sorry! I’m passing out soon. The dreadful opening shift is killing me this week. I’m really glad we ran into each other. Kind of crazy, but I’ve been trying to think of ways to get your number for a while. I hope that’s not weird or anything. Thanks for letting me crash your evening with your family. You were definitely a pleasant surprise. See you around.

Fast forward several weeks, and here he was, standing before you, once a stranger but still one of the sexiest guys you had ever seen because let’s not pretend like you haven’t been eyeing him ever since you started coming to this coffee shop. Now, there were numerous possibilities—the looming thought of him being inside you, hanging over your heads, added static building between you, and yes, his flirting right now is solidifying the deal for you because he wants you. You can see it in his eyes, the electricity coursing through your veins when they flit to your mouth, and then he says:

“I was getting worried…I haven’t heard from you,” and he smirks nonchalantly reading the label of your drink as your eyes sweep over his face. 

His playfulness simmers into that casual, relaxed demeanor you’ve grown so fond of, and you can’t help but smile, your body warming at the thought of that last message, the image flashing across your vision, but there’s something different about the interaction, the thought of him more intimate because now you had the pleasure of piece together more details, more things about himself that he’s revealed, and let you kept, collecting bits of Harry that only make you like him more.

“I’m sorry, I started that internship…it was crazy the first few days…” you tell him.

“Oh yeah, I was wondering how that was going…” and this makes you smile. His attentiveness, his genuine curiosity about your life because he really did seem interested this whole time, from the very beginning. “I was hoping I didn’t scare you off—”

“Mmmm…” you nod, getting lost in a trance, his words like a switch, igniting that little flame within. He has a way of sucking you in, making you feel like you’re the only person in the room, the way he holds your gaze, never flinching, never shying away.

“Yeah?” He nudges, a curious look pulling between his brows.

You clamor a nervous laugh, the sound making you stumble over your words, “Yeah—I mean—no—no…not scared…I mean, no, you didn’t scare me off…”

“Not scared…” he laughs

And you squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head, as a smile spreads across your face, “Yeah…whatever that means…” you laugh, this time taking control of your reaction because shit, you are giving yourself away, and it’s no wonder you didn’t text him back because you can’t even keep it together enough to form the right words, let alone a sentence for that matter.

“Mmmmm….” he hums, that sly grin back in full swing, and you don’t even want that hot drink anymore because it’s fucking roasting in here, and you hope with all your might that he’s not picking up on your embarrassment, but then he says:

“Did you want a water?”

“A water?” you ask confused.

“Yeah, you usually get a water…you seem thirsty this morning—”

“Thirsty?” you question, caught up in that smile.

“Yeah, do you want extra ice, maybe cool you down a little bit?”

This is when you finally catch on to his joke, “I think I have to go and never come back, “ you say, turning away slightly.

“No—no—no—no—no—no” He laughs, reaching over the counter to grab your arm, and you feel the blush creeping further, setting your whole body on fire. “I’m just joking… you’re cute when you blush….”

“Oh really? Because now I think I want to die,” you force, hitching your thumb toward the door as he releases your arm.

Harry shakes his head, that smile even more persistent, “I’m only teasing…here…” he says, pushing your drink forward, “I promise I won’t poke anymore fun…” and just as the words fall from his mouth, a random girl walks up, grabbing her drink, her eyes trained on Harry, smiling over to get his attention, but his eyes never leave your face. All you want to do is climb onto this counter and let him take you right then and there—let him claim you, make you his, pray that you’re his one and only because every time you see him, that want, that need to have him. Buries itself deeper inside you—each new day, every new detail only makes you like him more.

“Would you want to come over tonight?” Harry asks, catching you off guard, the question tripping you up again.

“Oh, my roommate is having people over tonight, so I can’t host…” you tell him, unaware that you heard the question wrong because this would be the first time you guys hung out alone, without the safety of a crowded bar or the public eye of his coffee shop.

“No—” he laughs, thoroughly entertained by you this morning, “Would you like to come to mine? I don’t mind hosting…maybe watch a movie or something…”

Or something…you think, something wild, your thoughts spinning as you nod your head up and down, words suddenly hard.

“So is that a yeah?” he pokes.

“Yeah—yeah—yeah—” you confirm, still nodding, “Yup, that sounds good…that sounds really good…” 

And you’re kicking yourself for that last bit, “Really good, huh?” he repeats, really driving it home.

“God, I have to go…” and you fucking giggle like a little schoolgirl, “I think I need caffeine or something…” you tell him backing away.

He chuckles, his eyes dropping to the drink in your hand. “I steamed it extra hot this morning…” 

“Thank you! I—” you tell him, your tone rising as you turn away because you almost walked right into that one, and just as you’re about to push through the door, Harry shouts, “I’ll text you…” and then you’re through the door, gasping in a breath, the cold air filling your lung; a soothing relief. There is no way you can look back, and as you slide into the driver seat, your phone buzzes in your back pocket, and you lift your ass in your seat and peer down at the screen, swiping it open:

H: I’m looking forward to tonight. I’ll start thinking of movie options. Let me know what you think you might be hungry for, and I’ll order food.”

If this had been a weekday, you would have called in. You would have risked the internship because this was monumental—You were going to Harry’s place—This was bound to be a turning point, a change in scenery for you both, more personal, shifting the mood from friendly to possibly sexy, and this you had to prepare for.

You waited until you got home to text him back. You didn’t want to come off as too excited; you wanted to play it cool. I guess, yes, you could have texted him back right then and there, but why not leave some mystery? You already knew you wanted Chinese food; that was a no-brainer, but when he texted you and told you his internet was down. He asked if you had any DVDs, and this made you laugh. You had only kept a few random movies over the years stowed away in a box in your closet, a sparse collection curated specifically for you, especially not for a hot dude you were trying to get with.

And when you pulled your old box of belongings from the dusty top shelf, you laughed the second you opened it. There, sitting on top, were three random DVDs—you were beside yourself because now you were questioning your younger self, wondering why the fuck you would keep any of these movies, store them away like prized gold.

Okay, maybe there was something about the movie ‘Twilight’ that was worth keeping. You could understand that, and as you pulled it from the box, your eyes swept over the cover. You thought about the kind of vibe it would set, and it seemed like a movie you’d make your boyfriend watch when you just wanted a movie to cozy up together, something you knew he would never enjoy but would watch for you because he loved you. Maybe it would be okay if you both had seen it, but if Harry hadn’t seen it. This wasn’t the time, so you placed it on the floor next to you, making it an option.

When you pulled ‘The Notebook’ out, the cover Ryan Gosling and Rachel Mcadams about to embrace in a passionate kiss, you literally laughed out loud because there was no way in hell you wanted to watch this movie with him. It was way too soon. What message would you be sending if you chose that one, maybe you were overthinking this all, but hell, this was a big deal, and you wanted it all to go smoothly. You didn’t want to imply too much this early on, but at the same, the more you thought about it, the more you thought that you could actually see this going somewhere, and maybe it wasn’t just the sex you wanted—it was him.

Everything about him screamed—interested.

It didn’t seem like a facade to get you into bed because if that were the case, you think he would have already acted on it; something about the pace of your interactions meant more than a hookup. You found his genuine curiosity in you endearing, the biggest turn on in a very long time, and if sex came cool—He was already “fucking” your brain with his authenticity because if you really broke it down. None of the boys that have popped up in the last couple of months were ever worth your time. You had been waiting around for a man—a real man, to swoop in, a man that was sure of himself, that had his shit together, that was interested in more than just a casual hook-up because you were over that bullshit, over the feeling of being disposable in somebody else’s roster. 

And while you weren’t fully sure of Harry’s intentions, you bet if you asked, he would tell you. He was busy. He had a business to run, for heaven’s sake, and something told you he didn’t have a lot of time to fuck around, like when he told that pilates instructor he was busy, there was definitely some truth in that. You could tell he was organized with his time by the way he made plans—each hang out thoughtfully procured with your time at the forefront, never flaking or making excuses, never changing the plans at the last minute.

In fact, everything about him so far was a major turn on, and as you skimmed through your underwear drawer, trying to piece together a matching set because you could be a grown-up too, you laughed, your eyes flicking over to the third movie laid out across your floor, Juno—that was the one—That would be the perfect movie. You couldn’t even remember the last time you watched it, at least not as an adult. So you did the polite thing and sent him a picture, the movies lined up in a neat row, and as you sent the picture, you internally wished that he would choose Juno like maybe that would be the universe’s way of saying, “Yeah…you’re on the same page…this ones a keeper…”

H: We should talk about your movie collection later…but without a doubt, Juno for me…but I wouldn’t be opposed to The Notebook either…I’ll let you pick.

You laugh, falling back onto your bed, watching those tiny little dots move at the bottom of the screen.

H: Also, I’m going comfy vibes, like sweatpants and t-shirt kind of night, just a heads up.

Then you’re kicking your feet, that inner school girl rising up again, and now you’re fucking obsessing over this guy, over the fact that he just gets it, like somehow he’s becoming the complete package, like all those late-nights thinking about him was finally starting to pay off.

H: Ordering the food now, see you soon! 

You send him a text, leap off the bed and rush to finish getting dressed; that picture of his dick in the foyer of your mind, and you squeeze your thighs together at the thought, already horny with the idea of just walking through his door, the idea of sitting on the same couch and it’s like you’re a teenager all over again, dying to makeout until your lips are chapped, rub your body against his until the friction has you wet until his hands are roaming your body, needy to explore every inch of you.

This is what you’re thinking as you wait for him to open the door, your heart thudding away in your chest. When you hear the click of the knob and the door creaks open, your stomach twists with butterflies, the flutter seizing your whole body as he reaches out to embrace you in a hug, but your hands are full, and you can only lean into his side, a half-ass hug as he starts collecting each item, kicking the door closed behind you.

“Glad you found it okay,” Harry tosses over his shoulder as you follow him into the living room.

Harry sets your stuff down on the coffee table just as the doorbell chimes, “Ah, that must be the food, be right back, just make yourself at home…” He smiles, his eyes searching your face, and you hope you’re not coming off too nervous because, let’s face it, this is intimidating as fuck. You figured he had his shit together, but his place was amazing, eclectic yet put together like he actually paid full price for his couch, probably brand new, a large fluffy L-shape—you couldn’t help but flop down onto the cushion, exhaling all your self-doubt because what’s the worst that could happen, you think as your eyes flit shut, sinking into the feeling of comfort. 

“I’m going to grab some dishes,” he says, stirring you from your thoughts, and you open your eyes as he releases the sack of food, the boxes making a dull thud as they hit the table.

You push yourself up with a smile, him catching you in the middle of testing out his sofa, “Comfy couch,” you tell him, clearing your throat. 

He laughs, “It really is. If I fall asleep during the movie, you’ll have to wake me.”

“I was literally just thinking the same thing. I drank coffee before I came, so—”

He runs a hand through his hair, “I honestly did the same…I didn’t want to leave a bad impression. I’m notorious for falling asleep early.”

You laugh then, “Well, if I had to get up at the ass crack of dawn to open a coffee shop, I would never have a social life.” 

“My social life is barely functioning…trust me….” He tells you, “I’ll be back in just a second. Are you good with chopsticks, or would you like a fork?” 

“Chopsticks are great, thank you.” You grin, your cheeks squishing into a wide smile.

“What?” he asks, matching your smile.

“Nothing…nothing…I’ll set up the movie,” you offer, needing to look away, needing to look anywhere else because he is so fucking cute, and those sweatpants are so hot on him, hugging the bulge you know is there, and if you stare too long you might start undressing him.

“That would be perfect, thank you.” and his manners make you smile even more as you stand to your feet, slipping your shoes off to get cozy. 

The movie is set, and when he sees the opening menu of Juno, he laughs as the old wood floors creak under his soft footfalls. His presence fills the room in a matter of seconds, drawing you back to the moment, making you all too aware that this is real when he sits closer than you expected, his elbow softly grazing yours, and you can’t seem to find any words, you heart racing, maybe second-guessing if you’re actually ready for this, and really this is just you guys watching a movie. You know it doesn’t have to be anything else, but then there’s the desperate side of you, the side that wants to explore every option because there is something about him that feels safe and open to every prospect.

Getting past the eating part was fine, and as you guys cozied up with your plates and the movie began, it wasn’t even strange that the opening scene was a mild sex scene because you were both adults and honestly, it was barely a sex scene, mostly implied, kind of like this night with Harry.

It was when the eating was done, all the niceties out of the way. There was still an hour of the movie left, the room dark now, only the soft glow of the television casting light over you both. Harry’s knee was casually pressed against yours as the both of you sat cross-legged on the couch. Every time he moved even the slightest, your eyes would drop to your knee, a low hum buzzing up your thigh, and as soon as you brought any attention to the touch in your mind, that feeling of want pulled between your legs, making you suck in a slow, silent breath through your nose, you reminding yourself to breath, trying not to draw any attention to yourself.

Eventually, you relaxed enough to sink into the movie— overly focused on the screen—even when Harry stretched his legs out and slid further down on the couch cushion, his arm stretching across the pillow behind your head. You didn’t even move. You just sat there so quietly and so still, nearly holding your breath, and maybe he must have picked up on this because then he was pausing the movie, suggesting a bathroom break.

And the second he walked out of the room, you felt your whole body decompress, and you filled your lungs with as much oxygen as you could, gulping in air like the second he walked back in the room, he would steal the very air you were breathing. Why were you still nervous? He hadn’t tried anything, he wasn’t being weird or hinting at anything, no hidden expectations floating to the surface because you guys really were just hanging out, but that still didn’t make it feel any easier. Before he left the room, you could feel the tension straining in your shoulders as you sat there, your muscles burning from your rigid posture—you needed to chill; you were the one that needed to get your shit together. 

When you heard his footsteps, you shot up from the couch like a fucking weirdo, almost losing your footing, but you caught yourself before you could fall, a nervous laugh slipping past your lips, and by the way, your face was already starting to burn, you were glad it was too dark to see the flush rising to your cheeks.

“All good?” He asks, a slow smile spreading as his brows knit together.

You nod, forcing an odd laugh, “Is the bathroom that way?” you point in the direction he just came from, and you barely catch his nod as you take the long way around the couch, avoiding any chance of touching or his body brushing yours because it’s obvious you’re being a fucking chicken, because there’s no way a grown man was inviting you over just watch a movie.

 As you shut the door behind you, you exhale, realizing you were holding your breath that entire walk to the bathroom, and then you can’t fill your lungs quick enough as the anxious thoughts rise within, suffocating you, your anxiety trying to get the best of you. You can do this. Everything is okay, you are capable of communicating, you could march in there and just talk, you could ask what the deal is, what it is that he’s looking for because if it’s just to fuck, that is doable that part feels like a piece of cake, you would love to get off, but this was more, you can feel it in your bones, there was knowingly something different about him, and it scared the shit out of you.

And while you wash your hands, you try and avoid the mirror, avoiding your eyes, because you know what they would convey, and you already felt cowardly enough. So, of course, when you walk back into the living room again, you take the long way, not daring to look at Harry. Then you take your spot back next to him without a word, feeling his eyes on you, your body tensing up, and as you stare at the screen waiting for him to unpause the movie, he doesn’t. That’s when you chance a glance over at him, his eyes roam over your face, and then he leans past you to turn on the lamp as you hold your breath, the scent of him lingering in your nose as he settles back onto the cushion, this time facing you, and you look over and try and give him a corky smile, but you know it looks strange because the muscles in your cheeks keep twitching.

God, this is embarrassing, you think, and Harry clears his throat, “Umm…is it cool if we clear the air?”

And without a word, you nod, forcing yourself to face him, sitting up straight because you got this, you can do this, get this part over.

“I guess I just wanted to be clear about…I guess my intentions…I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve dated anyone…and I guess I’m feeling a little rusty. If that makes sense?” He explains, making your heart pick up. 

“Yeah…same,” you mutter, your throat tight, and you swallow down hard.

“I’m still trying to figure out how to navigate this all…you know, like…I don’t know. I really like you, and I was hoping we could like—” 

“What? Have sex—?” You blurt, making him gasp out a laugh, and really, you just wanted to cut right to the chase and figure out what your next move needed to be.

He looks nervous, a funny smile spread across his face as he runs a hand up the back of his head, “I mean—” and he laughs, his nerves visibly getting the best of him, and this makes you smile because you definitely just jumped the gun.

“Is that what you’re wanting?” he asks, looking down at his hands, “I guess I’m trying to figure out what you’re looking for—” He starts

“To be completely transparent, I’m sort of looking for something a little more serious…I mean, sex is great, but—”

You jump in then, “No—yeah, the other…” you clear your throat, “Like something serious…I’m sorry, but you make me so fucking nervous…”

“Am I being too forward?” he asks, his brows furrowed.

And you laugh, “No, I just think I really like you, and it’s just…been a while, you know? It’s also been a while since I’ve dated anyone…or I guess…like had sex…”

“Mmmm…” he hums, and then he laughs, “Not to push the sex narrative, but it has been a while for me, as well….like maybe a year or so. I don’t know. I stopped keeping track. I’ve been really busy with work, and I wasn’t really looking for anything, and then I saw you at the concert…”

Your eyes search his face then, but you know he’s telling you the truth, “So…like, how serious are you thinking? Like someone to exclusively hook up with? Fit into your busy schedule? What are you looking for? I would rather be on the same page.”

“Like dating…like a girlfriend…like maybe this could be something that moves further…”

And for some reason, you narrow your eyes at him, cocking your head to the side, “With me?” you question. 

Harry laughs again, “Well…yeah, you silly.”

Then you had to back up the conversation, “So the other night when you sent me that picture, it wasn’t for the sake of a hook-up?”

“I mean, I’m interested in hooking up, but it doesn’t have to be right now…I don’t know, I guess I just wanted you to know I was interested…” Then he laughs, his eyes shying away from you again, “Like I said, I’m rusty. Was that a weird thing to do? It’s been a while since I’ve done that…actually, I’ve only done that one other time…so—”

“I did ask for it…” you clarified, grabbing his attention.

“Yeah…I guess you did.” Then his eyes drop to your mouth.

And now you’re feeling bold, “I’m very interested…” and when your eyes dart away from his, you feel your face growing hot, laughing to yourself as you contemplate the conversation because you didn’t see it coming, but there was a piece of you that was glad it was happening, maybe even a piece of you realizing you may have a communication kink because you’re definitely getting turned on the clearer his intentions get and when he asks:

“What are you thinking?” That’s when you look over and smile, watching his smile spread across those perfect lips of his, and you bite down on your lower lip, deciding which dirty thought to divulge because there might be too many to choose just one.

Then you bite your lip harder, trying to suppress your smile, but it’s no use, and you say, “I mean…we can wait as long as you want to explore the physical side, but I’m down whenever you are…like so down…” 

This cracks him up, “So, just like whenever?” 

And you match his laughter, falling back against the couch pillows, “I might let you make me Ju—no—” and you can’t even say it with a straight face as you both burst into laughter, all the tension seeming to go with it, and it’s like the room is brighter, the air lighter around you as you suck in a hard breath, almost choking on your own laugh. 

“I’m actually on birth control…so the Juno thing might be out the window,” you tell him, placing a hand on his knee. You’re so caught up in the moment that you don’t even realize it. Then he’s resting his hand on yours, smiling over at you. 

That’s when you feel the pad of his thumb moving back and forth over the top of your hand, and you look down, “Hypothetically speaking…” he says, squeezing your hand, and your heart leaps in your throat as you begin to grip his hand. 

“If I were to ask you if you wanted to stay the night one day… would you be down with that?” Then he grips your hand back, and you loosen your hold, laughing because you keep giving yourself away.

“Honestly? You ask.

And he nods, that cute smile stretching, his dimples sinking into his cheeks, “Can we just like get the first hook-up out of the way…because if I wait any longer, I might psych myself out”

“Fuck…” he breathes, “Yes—I feel the same way…like right here? Or in my bed?” he forces, relief washing over his features, a new air of excitement filling the room.

“Oh…did you want to finish the movie?” he adds right before you tell him:

“Fuck no—” laughing as you squeeze his hand again. 

“You look like someone who would have a comfortable bed…” you tell him, standing to your feet.

Harry rises with you, still holding your hand. “My rooms upstairs—” he says, his eyes flicking to the stairs through the archway.

“Okay…?” he questions, his eyes scanning your face for any hesitation.

“Yes—” you nod as he begins to pull you toward the stairs.

As soon as you reach the landing at the top of the stairs, he turns around, laughing, “Wait—you said I look like someone who has a comfortable bed?”

“Is that really what you’re thinking about…? You laugh.

He shrugs like he’s stalling, or maybe he’s nervous, “I mean… among other things…”

“Harry, are you nervous?” you ask, squeezing his hand again, and honestly, you’re hoping that he says yes because you’re not sure how this is going to go down, but you’ve been horny for him long before he sent you that photo, so you don’t really care about the details; you just want him inside you as soon as possible. 

“Honestly…I don’t think I’ll last long. I just thought I would warn you…”

You smile then, lifting your hand to stroke his cheek, “Then we’re both in the same boat…we’ll just say the first time doesn’t count. Deal?” 

“Deal, " he says, letting out a light laugh. You stand there, taking in his face. A boyish grin setting in, about to push you to the edge, and you practically leap to the tips of your toes, pushing your mouth to his.

At first, he’s stunned, but once you begin to move your mouth, he grabs hold of your face, taking a step back. When he takes another, you break the kiss, excitement coursing through you, and you peek over his shoulder, wondering which door leads to his bedroom. When he realizes what you’re doing, he grabs your hand and pulls you toward the end of the hall, pushes through the door, and it smacks against the wall as Harry tugs you through the doorway.

The first thing you do is grab hold of his shirt, his picture flashing across your vision. You have to see those tattoos in person, and when you begin to pull at the hem, he takes your cue and lifts it over his head. Now you’re the one who’s stunned as a whole series of tattoos come into view, halting you in place. Then your eyes are feasting over the plains of his body, the muscles, the random array of tattoos—since when did coffee shop owners look this fucking hot? Like, what did he do before this? But then you’re driving these thoughts away, your hands already moving over his skin—a palm brushing flat over the butterfly at the center of his chest, and it’s almost too much.

You drop to your knees, at eye level, with the leaves inked into his lower abdomen, and you lick your lips, grabbing hold of his waist, a light touch tracing along one side with the tips of your fingers. “Jesus,” you breathe as the leaves disappear into the band of his sweatpants. Before your eyes move any further, you gaze up at Harry. His eyes are trained on you, a lazy smile spreading on his face, and then he laughs.

“If you put those lips around my dick, I swear I’ll only last two seconds. Your touch has already got me so close…” He tells you, bending at the waist to lift your chin, and when he plants his lips to yours, you breathe him in, working yourself back to standing, your mouth never leaving his.

You pull away from the kiss, pressing your hand flat against his chest, needy, pushing him toward the bed, “I could probably get off just by looking at you…” and you both laugh at this, but you’re serious. Everything about him is working you up, and now you’re so turned on that you feel yourself opening for him, your pussy throbbing the entire time you bound up the stairs.

Harry stumbles back onto the bed, sitting at the edge, and brings you between his legs. When he gives your shirt a playful tug, you lift your arms, giving him permission, and he yanks it up, up, up until he’s standing, pulling until you feel the collar of your shirt wisp over the tips of your fingers, then he tosses it to the ground with a smirk on his face—your red lacy bra on full display in the low light of the moon, casting silver light through the window.

When he sits back down on the bed, he draws you toward him again, his hands on your waist, gripping the meat of flesh, a hunger rising up as he buries his face into the hallow between your breast, and when you run your hands through his hair, Harry lets out a soft groan, a puff of heat fanning over your skin, and you bring your face down to the crown of his head, breathing in the smell of his hair. 

Harry’s hand moves from your waist to the clasp

of your bra, fidgetting with the hook as he nibbles the tip of your hard nipples through your bra; all you can do is watch, a chill running up your spine, a rush surging through you as soon as your bra comes off, and this is happening, this is real, and when Harry looks up and smiles at you, you need him inside of you—now, desperate for it, desperate for him.

You were ready, that consistent ache between your legs tugging at the pit of your stomach. You wanted him fast and deep; you wanted him to open you up, stretch you so that you would remember, a sore reminder later, a feeling that he was there—leave you reeling, craving more—crave him as you crave him now, like a sweet tooth, one bite never enough.

“Now—” you force, “Now—I need it now,” you tell him, your hands on his shoulder, moving down his chest as you’re pushing him back, and Harry laughs, his body following your command, the muscles in his stomach flexing and relaxing as he lays back on the bed. Then your eyes are drifting down, his grey sweatpants marking the outline of his dick, and it’s joy, pure joy, that giddy feeling tightening your chest, adrenaline shakey at the tips of your fingers as you reach for the elastic waist of his pants. 

“I’m so fucking turned on—” he mutters, the words flying out of his mouth, your hands colliding as he helps you ease the pants down, his boxers coming with, catching on his thighs, his dick seconds away from springing free, and harry lifts his leg as you rip off his pants, tossing them across the room with such force, that you can’t help but laugh as Harry’s eyes follow, the pants knocking a picture off the wall, and the frame comes crashing down to the floor with a smash, the sounds of glass shattering fills the room, and Harry doesn’t even flinch because he’s grabbing your face before you can even see the damage. 

Harry stands to his feet, one goal in mind, and that was to get you naked, “Still good?” he asks, but you’re too distracted, his rock-hard cock bobbing between the two of you, and when he laughs, it pulses a slight bounce, and it’s like striking gold, your eyes wide, lit with curiosity, every ounce of excitement you felt before hurrying to your needy hands as you reach for his penis, wrapping your hand around his girth, a gasp slipping past your lips as his warmth seeps into the palm of your hand.

The thought was enough before, but the feeling of him in your hand is even better, drawing that hungry to the surface, your mouth watering, and you swallow hard as you rip your eyes away from the dick filling your hand. When you meet Harry’s eyes, you both smile, sharing a knowing look as you nod your head, a late response bubbling up, and then you lick your lips, smoothing them together, contemplating whether or not you’re going to drop back down to your knees, and then you say, “I need you inside me—” gliding your hand down his shaft as Harry sucks a sharp breath through his teeth, the quick sensation of pleasure too much for you both, and he stops your hand mid stoke, his jaw clenching as he squeezes his eyes shut, and when his head falls back, lips parting—You’re losing it. 

Without thought, your crawling back onto the bed, pulling at the waistband of your yoga pants, too fucking tight for this situation because it’s taking too long, every movement bringing awareness to your wet pussy, the cold air grazing over your newly exposed skin. Then Harry is helping you tear them past your ass, lifting your hips as his knuckles drag down your legs with the rough effort of ripping them past your ankles.

 Never again, you think, never again will you waste time with such a useless fabric as you bring your hand between your thighs, smearing the wetness building within you up your slit, readying yourself. Watching Harry’s mouth gape open when you spread your legs, and god, you are so fucking wet, so fucking horny that you think you’ll explode, and as Harry strokes his dick, his hand moving up and down, you dip your fingers inside, slowly pushing them in, only enough to slick your entrance, then out, and in again, so smooth, open, begging to be filled, to be stretched.

When Harry presses a knee into the edge of the bed, you pull your wet fingers from inside you, making Harry smile. He drops his dick as he climbs onto the bed next to you, him watching as you suck your fingers into your mouth, eliciting a small moan from Harry as he grabs hold of your wrist, your fingers slipping out of your mouth with ease, then Harry is making them his the moment they enter his mouth, his tongue moving over your fingers, then you feel the suction, feel the vibration at the back of his throat when he groans, satisfaction loosening his tight-knit browns.

You can’t take it; that’s when you’re pulling your fingers from his mouth, pushing him back onto the bed, and claiming on top, one swift movement, “Is this okay?” you ask, the thought of asking barely at the forefront of your mind, and when he grabs your hips to line you up, lifting himself to adjusting you both, the answer is evident in the movements because he’s just as desperate, just as needy. 

“Is this how you want it?” he asks, and you nod your head, feeling shy suddenly, heat creeping into your cheeks—the exchange of words slowing things down enough to put things into perspective in just a matter of seconds.

“This is good…” you answer, on the verge of second-guessing yourself.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…” you breathe, straightening your spine, your body relaxing slightly, nervous, but the look on Harry’s face is reassuring you, something telling you he wouldn’t take advantage of the situation.

“Will you tell me if you want to change positions if this is too much…” And he smiles then, a playful smirk as you lean forward, and you press your hand into the bed, next to his head. Your face inches from his. 

You laugh then, “I want it to be too much…” you tell him, confident in the fact that no matter what position, it’s going to hurt, so why not have control? Besides, you wanted to watch him come undone, be the reason he’s calling your name.

“Dammit… you’re dangerous…” he laughs, his tone low, a silky rasp in your ear as you drop your mouth to his neck, pressing your lips to his soft skin, breathing him in as your free hand navigates his dick to your opening, the stretch imitate as his tip dips in, and your breath catching as you shove him inside you. Amazed by the force it takes just to inch him in the smallest amount as Harry exhales a heavy breath into your neck, and holy shit, your lack of sex is finally catching up, you think as you push yourself up, your face hovering over his.

“Fuck—” you breathe with a smile, trying not to laugh, and your eyes sweep over his face, your brain taking mental notes of every look of pleasure that has stolen Harry’s features, saving them for later. 

“We can go slow?” he says, leaning up to grab hold of your face, a harsh breath leaving your mouth as he presses his lips to yours, his dick inching further in with every moment.

You pull away from the kiss, teetering on pain’s edge as you rest your forehead against his, “Just push into me…” you whisper, lifting your head to look him in the eyes.

“What?” He asks, confused, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

“Let’s just rip the bandaid off—” Then it’s happening. Harry gazes up at you; a moment of hesitation, then he grabs your hips and bucks himself deep inside you, the pain ricocheting through your teeth as you bit down hard, sealing your pained moan behind your lips, and you screw your eye shut, sinking your weight into your hips ceasing any further movement.

“…fuuuuuuuuuuck….” you whisper, your head spinning, dizzy with the thought of his cock buried inside you, like he’s splitting you open, carving out a space for himself. There was no going back after this because this is the kind of dick you dreamed of, the kind of dick you wanted to break you in, claim you, make you theirs, and even if there’s pain now, there’s bliss in the thought of knowing.

“Take your time…” he breaths his voice a strained whisper, and you can tell this is just as painful for him, but in a different way, your walls gripping him tight, and as you release a breath, the pain begins to ease with the thought of exploring the onset of pleasure gradually taking way, the exploitation a vice of its own, and it’s just enough.

And when you open your eyes, there he is, Harry, staring back at you, a look somewhere between concern and pleasure, because then you’re moving your hips, slow, getting used to the feeling of him inside you as Harry grips the meat of your hips, exhaling when you lean back down, to kiss his lips, a warm breath filling your mouth, and there’s the pleasure—you and Harry—chest to chest, two hearts beating as one—then he moving you guys along, planting his feet into the bed, and you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. 

Harry lifts his hips, grabs hold of your ass, and pushes into you, easing apart your ass cheeks just enough to open you up more, dipping deeper this time, repeating the motion until you’re bouncing up and down in his dick, both of you pushing moans in out of one another mouth, each one louder than before, the sensation overwhelming every sense of your body. Every thrust drives deeper as you feel your body begins to succumb to the pressure building, a knot tightening in your lower belly, and it’s this, this is what you wanted.

All of it. 

The sound of satisfaction echos around you, the squeak of the bed, the thud of the wooden headboard banging against the wall, both of your effort playing in tandem, the push and pull—a give and taking until the both of you are forming a rhythm, two bodies playing out like a fucking symphony, every moving part a perfect balance. Then you’re crying out his name, pushing up on his chest until your palms are flush with his dewy skin, and when you lock eyes with his, you nod your head, tilting your hips back and forth, your movements growing desperate, faster, and when you say:

“I’m close,” Harry leans up and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you down hard, the friction slowing, each moment deeper and deeper.

“How close are you?” He forces

“I’m close—don’t stop…” you plead.

“Fuck…” He breaths, thrusting hard, “So good—”

“Don’t stop—” you beg. “Don’t you dare fucking stop—”

“I’m so close—” he groans, and you slam your hips down, seconds away; just seconds, that’s all you need.

“I’m gunna come…” you force, stealing your orgasm as you grind your hips into his pelvis, your knees stretching as wide as they can, the position limiting, but it’s just enough, and when Harry drives into you again, yelling out your name, it seals your fate, your whole body buckling, and you collapse, your pussy gripping his dick tighter, seizing around the contour of his hard cock as Harry bursts inside you, his pulsing dick the perfect ending as you ride out our orgasm.

And then you’re both catching your breath. Your bodies pressed together, the thud of his heartbeat racing across your lips, your face buried in the crook of his neck now as you nibble a soft bite into the pulse beating under his skin. Harry lets out a breath laugh, cool air sweeping over your damp shoulder, and you don’t move, his dick still inside you, both of you unwilling to part. 

When you lift your head, taking in the sweaty glow of his face, you sweep a stray curl from his forehead as a soft smile spreads, his dimple dipping. " Hi,” he whispers, his voice dripping like honey from his lip, and it’s so sweet, kindness emanating through every gentle touch, pouring out into the delicate kiss he plants on your lips as you bask in the afterglow of pleasure.

And it’s strange how quickly your mind just switched gears because now you want to beg for forever, have him hold you in his arms just like this, laugh, tell him he just marked his territory because there’s no going back, you think again, really meaning it, your mind in the dizzying aftermath of pure fucking bliss because now you want to make him fall in love, pray that this was a starting point, pick his brain, ask him what he’s thinking as your thoughts spiral.

All of this running through your mind as you deepen the kiss, Harry holding you tighter, then he breaks away, falling back onto the bed, his body relaxing as he crosses his arms behind his head, and then he smiles, face beaming, “Is it too early to think you may have just locked me down…hopefully you’re okay with that.” 

And really, the joke is on him because he doesn’t even know the half of it, so when you send him that sweet little smile, all you can do is laugh, thinking if he only knew, but I guess we’ll find out.

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! Hope you enjoyed!

More I've done<-

Have a request?<-

[httpsserene]

hi can i please send a request for the kink list rating? for franco, oscar, charles, lewis and carlos with begging. also congrats on 3k!

🧽🪣 would you like a complimentary car wash? — send me any five (5) drivers and one (1) kink from this list, and i will rank the drivers in order of who i think is most to least likely to participate/avoid, or love/hate that kink !!! each driver will have a small blurb written xxx

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. this one is a lil shorter but i think it's actually better quality? don't ask mehow i wrote this in the middle of my 9 am lecture...i'm not proud of that either. happy 3k🤍 lovely !!! tysm for requesting xxx

⌕ 3k v-day celly nav | all 3k requests | main nav | table of contents ↻

𝐦𝐭𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 fem!black!reader x cl. 16 | fc. 43 | lh. 44 | cs. 55 | op. 81 cw under the cut.

implied bdsm dynamics. teasing. overstimulation. hinting at the existence of a safeword in carlos'. charles' praise kink. oscar is a lil weird maybe. sir kink for lewis...my fault y'all, i can't help it.

𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭

Franco’s not going to give you what you want until you beg for it. He loves to watch you grow desperate, your voice whiny and eyes watery as he begins to tease you with the faintest brush of his thumb on your clit after he’s been shallowly thrusting two of his fingers within you nowhere near long enough to satisfy himself but for what feels like forever to you. Franco’s aiming to bring you to the point where his name becomes a synonym for please in your thesaurus. The purpose of his teasing behavior is to make you delirious with pleasure when he chooses to give it to you in full force—your orgasms are substantially more satisfying when he makes you earn it.

Carlos thinks there are very few things more attractive than you begging. He finds you endearing as you push at his chest, your voice slurring as you plead for him to give you a break, that you can’t take what he’s giving you. He knows you don’t mean it though, not yet, at least—because while your hands are half-heartedly trying to bat him away, your legs are locked around his waist, keeping him firmly pressed inside of you to disallow him from slipping away. Carlos gathers both of your wrists in one hand, pinning your arms above your head as he continues his deep grinding rhythm, muffling his rumbling groans into the crook of your neck—you know what word to use if you need him to stop. In the meantime, he’ll keep basking under the sound of your overwhelmed begs.

It depends—Charles doesn’t have sex with the intention of having you beg for him most times. Honestly, he prefers to make you forget how to speak during sex, he wants to hear you gasping for breath as he fucks the air out of your lungs. If you are going to say anything, let it satisfy his endless desire for praise. Tell him that he’s doing a good job, that he looks hot with his head between your legs—his praise kink wins over his begging kink any day. Occasionally, there are days where Charles is going to make you ride his thigh and keep you on the edge, your throat will ache from the amount of times you beg for him to let you cum—but, he’s not in the mood for that often.

Oscar doesn’t consider his particular affliction as a begging kink. With him, it’s more of a kink for good manners. It’s not like he’s making you ask his permission to do anything, no—it’s how you stare up at him with deceivingly innocent eyes right before you say, “Can I suck you off, please?” Or, “Oscar, I wanna ride your face, please?” It’s not like any man would deny any of your requests, but it’s how the word please sounds rolling off of your tongue—it has Oscar ready to do anything you ask of him. You think his arousal stemming from politeness fits his personality perfectly; he can only think it’s kind of embarrassing. 

You’re going to be happy with what Lewis gives you. There’s no reason to beg because you know that he has your best interests at heart. Doesn’t he always deliver? You don’t have to worry about what you want because Lewis is going to give you what you need—your focus is to sit pretty while he handles the hard work. Let him eat you out to his heart’s content, let him mold your walls to the shape of his cock through numerous rounds of sex—All he wants to hear from you while he does it is, “Yes, sir,” and, “Thank you, sir.”

𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭

© httpsserene — do not reupload. photos in header from pinterest. mdni divider by @cafekitsune.

[side-by-side-sideblog]

As a butch individual I will not like you, fuck you, talk to you, make friends with you, or entertain you if you hate men, neither will my partner and other butches I know. It is not progressive, man hating isn't queer culture, because men are queer culture. Men are why I am masc, they accepted my masculinity first, lesbians were butch and masculine phobic to me for 8 years till I figured my shit out. I know that isn't the norm, but it isn't rare either.

These people put me back in the closet over and over. They don't support gender or sex being a spectrum, if they do they're showing no signs of it. They think saying men dni will stop guys who harass people but they don't stop because they don't care about consent and a dni doesn't change that. There are plenty of girl bloggers who also don't respect consent and send people gore and threats over minor disagreements. We don't go after them hardly at all in comparison considering we have people who've been doing that since 2016 and earlier that people still reblog and uplift because they're women. Men doing that on here don't get that treatment, because it's rightfully wrong. Most other sites white non queer men do getaway with that more while women don't, the Tumblr user base reversing that isn't progressive, because cis white women here get more slack then anyone else because trans fems, trans mascs, intersex people, and non white people get the "evil" tag over small shit, let alone actual bad things.

We teach in current society that men are incapable of consent, as if it's in their nature. This isn't true, but it sure does create a lot of guys who lack boundaries. That doesn’t mean Man = Bad it means society saying Man = Wild Beast is bad. A man is just whoever identifies as one, and identifying as a man has nothing to do with lack of consent, or toxic masculinity. I sometimes wonder if I identify as butch in a man way, idk, and I don't care, I am who I am, and women are who I spend time with in a queer way. My closeness to masculinity isn't traitor behavior. Femininity isn't Divinity, I do not worship women. Masculinity isn't an Ignominity, I do not criminalize men. Masculinity is also not Divinity, and Femininity isn't an Ignominity. Both can be fallible at times when the conditions are right, but they are neutral markers.

To make man = good we do that by just changing ourselves and our ideas of masculinity being bad, then we teach it to everyone else, including kids, friends, partners, and parents. When people stop the "boys will be boys" then more men will be taught consent.

I have an actual irrational hatred for a character that makes me burst into anger and hour long rants (not joking) because I see him as the epitome of toxic masculinity. Seeing him in a profile picture can ruin my day, but I do not put him in a dni list because I am not going to blame fans of him for my distaste in how the media itself supports his bad actions as good. Just like if I get harassed by men who lack consent, I will not blame all men and put men dni.

Saying "I block ＿" is better anyway.

Plus, how can you know someone's a woman? Not everyone has pronouns listed, gender listed, or just a big neon sign saying "I'm a woman." you will have no idea if people are respecting your frankly outrageous ask of who can follow or reblog your posts.

Men on this site who respect women and reblog posts do exist, and there are a lot of them. Also trans eggs who are on this site are not going to figure themselves out through media like mlp, she-ra, and whatever you post by saying men dni. My trans sister cracked her egg six months ago, so for her blog she would have steered clear of men dni disclaimers and probably blocked them out of respect. Now how does she undo that, go through her entire block list? That would be crazy work for people who wouldn't have respected her pre transition (which they didn't, not even other trans girls or queer gurls in highschool did, only now would they support her. That's what man hating does to people.)

There is no simple solution to keeping people away, oh wait... It's called blocking.

tldr; Having a dni for an entire demographic of people just for the flaws of a few inside doesn't work. It never will. People who don't care about consent will breach it to hurt you.

if you have "cishet men dni" in your bio i, a trans man, will not touch you with a 10 foot pole. i should not be forced to out myself as a trans man just to interact with you. on top of that, cishet men are not inherently evil. stop trying to reinvent bioessentialism with your "girl good, boy bad!" mentality.

[hughesmuse86]

+18 -> smut | Jack finds your Tumblr account (… and you’re reading stories about him 👀🤭)

𝓙𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓗𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓼 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

c/w: pet names, swearing, new relationship, kissing, they have not had sex yet, brief unprotected p in v, fingering, spanking, oral (female receiving), oral (brief; male receiving), praise, teasing, handjob, finger sucking, cum tasting, ownership kink, sex toys, brief rough sex, Jack goes through the reader’s things, thigh-slapping, the reader says she wants to have sex and they agree for round 2 he surprises her by switching the toy with himself

*the red indented text is the Tumblr story*

2.8k

Jack lay sprawled on your bed, his legs were draped off the edge, lazily tossing a practice ball into the air as he waited for you to get out of the shower. The faint hiss of water running in the bathroom had an oddly calming effect, but it did little to take his attention from the nagging temptation right beside him… your phone.

He wasn't the snooping type—or so he’d like to think. You were sweet and trusting, and your relationship was so new. The last thing he wanted was to screw it up by overstepping. But the phone vibrated again, its screen lighting up, and curiosity got the better of him.

"This is fucked," he mutters to himself, glancing toward the bathroom door to make sure you wouldn't catch him nonetheless.

He froze as he unlocked the screen, his jaw falling slack with shock. It wasn’t TikTok or Instagram… It wasn't Pinterest or anything he had seen before. This was something entirely different. “Shit,” he whispers, running his hand over his smirk as he continues to read the porn on the page before him.

Mhmm… Yeah. Sure. Is that why you're wearin’ that set I bought you, pretty? Just wanted to sit around? It’s almost like you wanted this to happen,” he mumbles, calling you out completely as he kicks his bedroom door shut, slamming the lock with a smirk before flicking his backward cap to the side.

"Maybe," you whisper, fighting back a smile as Jack lies on the floor.

His palm slams over his lips as he gasps and chuckles— eyes widening on the page as he reads his name. What the fuck is this? Is this a romance novel? I mean—I guess… He thinks to himself. Not just romantic in the generic sense, but detailed, explicit, and absolutely nothing like what he was expecting his sweet, innocent girlfriend to read.

Jack palms at his cock, already pushing against his pants. Finding him not getting off on the words he was consuming but the woman consuming them. His mind spins with the thought of you reading this with one hand on your phone and the other in your panties, playing with yourself as you read each filthy word about how your boyfriend fucks.

Jack's lips twitch into a grin as he scrolls down a few lines. “No way…” He shakes his head in disbelief, reading a little more.

Goddamn, you're lucky my brother’s not home… Hate for him to hear what a slut you are for me.” He quickly rolls you to your back, your hands still firmly wrapped. The veins in his neck protruded, that same smile still slicked on his lips. He grabs your wrists, pinning them against the carpet with a bruising grip.

The contrast between the innocent image he had of you and the vivid story on your screen sent a rush of warmth through him, his body tingling, heart pumping fast. He even found himself getting a little bashful at the thought of it, turning slightly only to see his blushed cheeks in the reflection of your floor-length mirror.

"Wow," he whispers.

Unable to help himself now, Jack's curiosity grows. He returns the phone to the bed and lets his eyes wander around your room. It’s cozy, filled with little personal touches—string lights, a collection of books, the aroma of your vanilla candle wafting in the air. His eyes fall onto your nightstand, and for just a second, he does hesitate. But he wants to know more.

"C’mon, man. Don't do it," he whispers, scolding himself, already reaching for the handle.

The drawer opens, nothing out of the ordinary: the chapstick he loves, an extra phone charger, a few books.

“Damn…” He freezes again. A pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs from your Halloween costume were tucked to the side, half-hidden by a scarf. He grabs the scarf, pulling it out nice and slow, finding a black satin bag below it.

Jack’s heart races, a mix of surprise and exhilaration coursing through his veins. “Holy shit, princess. What do we have here, huh?” He whispers, grinning like he had just found hidden treasure. He can only imagine what’s inside; he had a couple of ideas based on the silhouettes alone. He never imagined you’d have something like this. Not you, the girl who blushed when he kissed your forehead in public.

“Damnit.” He slams the drawer shut as he hears something, making the contents rattle. He lifts his fingers and runs them through his hair. His heart pounding in his head softens, letting him hear a new sound.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. He looks down at your phone, but the screen is black— no call or alarm coming in. His eyes double as he looks down in the other direction, getting closer to the source. He grabs the handle, pulls the drawer open, and sees the contents inside shifted from how hard he shut it.

He pulls back the scarf, watching the satin bag vibrate and turn slowly. Jack snatches the bag and peers inside, gasping again as he sees your toys. He didn’t recognize two—more familiar with the third. He pulls the rabbit vibrator out of the bag, watching in awe and lust as it swirls and shakes. He snaps himself out of his daze enough to shut it off.

Jack looks down at his body and then toward the door, curiosity getting the better of him. He tosses the bag to the bed and loops his fingers around his grey sweats, tugging them down enough to release his aching cock. His length slaps against his shirt, standing straight with a slight curve.

He lifts the vibrator in one hand, hissing at the contact when he wraps his fist around the other. Jack holds them up next to each other, smiling smugly as he catches all the differences playing in his favor. He could see all the veins and ridges of his cock where the toy was smooth, the girth of his dick wider than the silicone shaft. Jack pumps his dick a few times, feeling the blood pump through it.

He tosses his head back as he drags his hand up a little more, lowering his eyes again to watch the bead of precum that was gathered at his swollen tip roll slowly down the side. Jack looks back at the toy one last time, thinking about your warm, wet cunt swallowing up the smaller silicon tip— your glossy hole fluttering as the shaft vibrated with you.

He rolls out his neck, feeling himself embarrassingly close to cumming at his thoughts alone. Jack puts the toy back in the satin bag carefully, setting it down in its place softly, shutting the drawer slowly, attempting to compose himself as the bathroom door opens.

You step into the room, wrapped in a towel, your wet hair cascading over your shoulders. Jack struggles to sit up, his big body floundering slightly as he attempts to look casual—his usual swagger long gone. His cheeks flush even more; lip, bitten between his teeth to hold back his nervous chuckle, which quickly breaks loose.

"What's so funny?" You ask, cocking an eyebrow as you walk over to your dress, grabbing your lotion from the top.

Jack’s pretty eyes draw to your hands as you spread the creamy white between them, swirling it over your soft skin as a smug smile plays on his perfect lips.

Jack stands up, crossing the room in a couple of strides before wrapping his strong arms around your waist. He tilts down, kissing your forehead, then your nose, lingering on your pillowy lips before tucking himself in your neck, lips dusting your ear. "I found your shit, princess,” he rasps, his voice deep and teasing.

You freeze for a second, your mind racing. "My shit? Wh-What do you mean?”

"The handcuffs, your stories, the—" he pauses, his smile spreading along your warm, dewy skin, "…the toys. And I thought you were a good girl." He pulls away, expecting to see your flustered face, surprised when he catches the twinkle in your eye. Your head tilts slightly, eyes falling into a lusty haze.

"I never said I was."

Jack blinks, caught off guard by your confidence. He lets out a laugh, pulling you in tighter against him. "Goddamn, baby," he teases, his voice warm and hungry.

You set your hands on his chest as you look up at him. "Is that a problem?"

Jack's eyes darken slightly, his laughter softening as he leans in for a kiss. "It’s fuckin’ perfect," he mumbles against your lips, his excitement and affection for you only growing. "You keep surprising me, pretty."

"Could say the same," you counter with a smirk, tugging him in by his shirt. “Lookin’ through my shit like I have something to hide.”

"That’s true," he says, smiling into your kiss, eager to see what other surprises you had in store or what those two other toys were that he’d never seen before. “Let me apologize to you. Hmm?” He asks as his eyes fall to your towel, looking back up at you quickly. You give him a little nod, and he tugs at it fast, watching the fuzzy white material fall around your feet.

His eyes work up your body slowly, hands holding and kneading the fullness of your hips. Jack’s big hands trace your soft skin before cupping your breasts, squeezing, and watching the way your body reacts to his touch.

Grabbing for his white t-shirt, you pull it over his head. Your lips claim his as your fingers dance over the deep indentations of his abs, his cut v-lines disappearing below the band of his sweats. You curl your fingers under the elastic as your tongue slips in his mouth, swirling with his as you tug his pants off.

Jack lifts you off your feet into his arms as your tongues tangle together, your body rolling into his with the cadence of your kiss, the wetness of your soaked pussy transferring to his hot skin.

He lays you down on the bed and crawls on with you— the mischievous grin on his face spreading wider. “Grab your phone,” he hums against your lips. “Open it, princess. Think you have a story you need to finish. Yeah?” he says, stretching his big arms around the back of his head as he relaxes into your pillows. “Were you reading about me?” He asks, trying to hold back his smirk.

“Yeah,” you answer bashfully as he leans in a little closer.

“You obsessed with me, or what?” He teases.

“Is that not obvious–”

“Good,” he mumbles against your lips before kissing you gently. “‘Cause I’m obsessed with you too, pretty.”

Your eyes fall down his perfect body, Jack’s stiff cock trapped between the band of his White Calvin’s and his warm skin, the man incredibly hard. His tip’s messy with precum, pooled on his tip, making you lick your lips. You reach out your finger, pressing it against his swollen head, swirling it slowly, tracing his slit as his mouth falls open. Lifting your finger, you bring it to your lips, sucking down as he watches you close.

"You want me to read it out loud?"

Jack shrugs as he tucks himself into you, kissing along the column of your neck. "Why not? I'm curious,” he hums before sucking down on your sweet spot.

Your heart starts to race a little faster, pussy throbbing as Jack’s large hand traces up your body, squeezing your upper thigh. With a deep breath, you pull up the story again, sliding your finger to the part where you left off.

Jack adjusts his position, turning into you, his head resting on a shared pillow. "C’mon baby, let me have it,” he mumbles as his rough fingers draw along your soft skin.

Your voice comes out steady at first, reading a few lines, though. Looking at the next couple of words, you feel your cheeks warm up, skipping a few, but he stops you with a slap to your inner thigh, making you whimper with pleasure. Jack chuckles lustfully at the sound that pours from your lips, turning slightly to get a better look at your pretty face.

“M’gonna let that slide ‘cause you're so fuckin’ sexy,” he mutters drunkenly, his little punishment doing nothing but revving him up more. “You skipped somethin’, sweetheart. Don't cheat me out of the good parts."

"Okay, baby…” You smile.

He chuckles dizzily and leans in closer. "C'mon, keep going. I like hearing you read,” he praises as his fingers cup your pussy, pushing against your sex, making your head fall back. “Keep readin’,” he hums against your ear.

What?" He snickers. "Think I won. Just claiming my prize." He groans as he clutches his hard cock in his fist, running the tip through your soaked folds–

You try your best to focus, your voice trembling slightly as the story's tension heats up. Jack pushes two long fingers inside you, resting his thumb on your clit. "Don’t stop now… I think I’m gonna fuck you, baby. Shit’s gettin’ really, really good," he murmurs, his voice low and raspy.

You clear your throat, trying to disregard him, but he moves between his thighs, lips landing on your shoulder, soft and warm, tracing upwards.

You scream as he slams his long, thick dick deep. “Fuck!” You wail, mouth hanging open as he circles his hips nice and slow–

Your words stumble, fumbling over the last sentence as he loops his massive arms around your thighs, tugging you to your back.

"Jack…" you say, barely louder than a whisper, the phone trembling in your hands as his warm breath fans over your pussy.

"Mhmm," he replies, definitely enjoying your distraction.

–forcing himself as deep as possible, making you exhale a deep breath.

You manage to get a few more words out, shaky and rushed, as Jack flattens his tongue, licking a line up your slick folds. He chuckles against your skin, his breath hot as he presses a kiss against your clit.

"You're terrible at this, pretty," he teases, his grin infuriatingly smug and devastatingly handsome.

"That's because you're distracting me!" You whimper, tossing your phone down in defeat.

Jack laughs as he crawls towards your lips, kissing you tenderly, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. "I was only tryin’ to help, baby," he whispers innocently before biting and tugging on your bottom lip as he traces up your thigh.

You huff at him playfully, any resolve that may have remained melting as he holds your cheeks in a single hand, puckering your lip. "You're cute when you're flustered," he whispers, kissing your lips.

You gasp as you feel Jack run the tip of something familiar through your glossy folds—too cold to be him, too wide to be his fingers.

“You gonna let me play with you, princess?” Jack asks, letting your cheeks go. You look between your thighs and see your vibrator in his fist, the pink tip glistening with your essence.

You slip your hands down his muscular body as warmth builds in your stomach, rocking your hips as Jack teases you. Wrapping your fingers around Jack’s thick dick, you hear a buzz, feeling the toy tremble, making you squeeze Jack’s cock a little tighter. He moans against your lips, turning it up to the highest setting.

“You can do whatever you want to me, baby,” you pant as he switches his hold, letting the little rabbit's ears flick against your aching pearl.

“Anything?”

“Shit,” you mewl as he drops down to your drooling hole again, letting the swirling head circle your entrance, Jack teasing you with just the tip. “Anything.” Your hips buck up slightly, and Jack pins you down by the hip, holding you in place.

“Mmm... Where are you going, princess?” He asks as your chest rises rapidly, breathing quicker than you were before.

“Fuck, Jack,” you gasp and moan as he stuffs it inside, the toy gliding effortlessly through your wetness. Jack holds it in place, making you squirm and move some more.

“This is just round one…” He whispers against your trembling lips. “You gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy for round two?”

“Yes… Yes, shit. Please fuck me.”

Jack kisses you deeply as he pushes it in and out, making you cry out against his lips, arms drifting around the back of his neck, holding on tight.

"I… Fuck, Jack. I'm gonna cum."

"Tell me when, baby," he breathes through a smile.

"Fuck... Ugh. I'm-" He draws out quickly, plunging his cock inside, robbing you of your breath.

Jack’s big hands grab your hips with a bruising grip as he fucks into you fast and hard, making you see stars. “Jack, Sh-Shit,” you whimper as you cum around his cock, muscles spasming again and again. Jack’s eyes roll into the back of his head as he gives you a few more punishing thrusts, making your breasts bounce as his toned hips smack against you.

You pull him to your lips, kissing him deeply, pushing him to roll yourself on top; his long, thick cock sheathed deep in your cunt still. You whimper at his size, feeling the delicious stretch between your thighs, nails running down his chest as you smile.

“How was that, princess?” He smiles, watching the way your legs tremble, the man gripping your thighs tightly before reaching around, spanking your ass, making your pussy tighten around him.

“So fucking good,” you smile as you throw your head back, rocking your hips, listening to the sounds of your soaked warmth and his deep moans.

Grabbing your phone, you hand it to him with a smile, lifting off his throbbing cock, seeing it sheened with your climax. “We’re not done with the story,” you whisper as you draw backward, slotting yourself between his thighs before running your tongue up his pulsing dick as he looks down at you, half-lidded and desperate.

“You want me to read this while you do that?” He asks dreamily, huffing out a deep, jagged breath as you spit on his tip.

“… C’mon baby, let me have it.”

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙