#drippin packs

[cakesty]

Olá, meu bem. Pode fazer um mood do minseo do drippin, por favor? 😓🙏🏻

aqui está, espero que goste ❤️‍🩹

Minseo moodboard

drippin moodboard

[stylesonfilms]

drippin' down your body like gold [h.s]

word count: 7.1k

when harry performs in lisbon, he gets an idea to chug a beer on stage. what he doesn't know, is that the sight of his chest dripping makes you feral.

or the one that is based off a post long ago made by @hesbunnies!

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, blowjobs, fingering, daddy kink, slight possessiveness, dressing room smut, concert smut! 18+ only.

Your fingers glided over the sequins of his suit, the fabric shifting beneath your touch like liquid light, catching and reflecting the warm glow of the dressing room bulbs. Each stroke sent a mesmerizing ripple across the dark material, a shimmer of silver and blue dancing under your fingertips. Your gaze trailed downward, drinking in the expanse of his exposed chest, where inked stories curled over golden skin, each tattoo etched into him like constellations against a dusky sky. The faint scent of his cologne—rich, woodsy, laced with something subtly sweet—mingled with the lingering notes of hairspray and fresh linen from his suit.

“Good luck,” you exhaled, the words floating between you like a prayer, your voice tinged with adoration as you tilted your head to meet his gaze. Your heart pounded against your ribs, swelling with something indescribable, eyes glossy with admiration. His responding chuckle was low, honeyed, and melted into the grin that spread across his face—dimples deep, eyes twinkling. His large, calloused hands rose to cup your jaw, warm and steady, thumbs brushing tenderly over your skin. Though he towered over you, nearly a foot taller, he always lowered himself to meet you, his lips finding yours with effortless devotion.

One kiss. Another. Then a longer one, deep and unhurried, the soft pressure igniting a heat in your chest. His lips were plush, intoxicating, leaving behind a warmth that lingered long after he pulled away. His hands dropped, curling around yours, anchoring you against the rapid heartbeat beneath his chest.

“Styles, two minutes! Let’s go, let’s go!”

Beyond the dressing room walls, the world pulsed with electric anticipation. The steady thrum of stomping feet vibrated through the floors, a bassline of excitement shaking the very air around you. Cheers and whistles spiraled through the venue, blending into a symphony of pure, unfiltered devotion. The scent of fog machines and stage lights filtered in, mingling with the adrenaline buzzing through your veins.

“Thank you, love,” he murmured, his voice dipped in fondness as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, then brought your bundled hands to his lips, the heat of his breath spreading across your skin. A shiver ran down your spine—not from cold, but from the quiet intensity in his touch.

“See you out there?”

You beamed up at him, eyes glimmering. “You know it. Now go, go!”

With a parting squeeze of your hands, he turned, broad shoulders disappearing through the door. His jog down the long corridor was brisk, purposeful, the last glimpse of his silhouette swallowed by the glowing stage lights as he vanished beneath the arena.

The moment Harry disappeared down the hallway, you released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your heart still fluttering from the warmth of his lips on your skin. But there was no time to linger in the feeling—he was about to step onto the stage, and you needed to get to your spot.

Slipping out of the dressing room, you navigated through the backstage halls, passing crew members who moved with practiced efficiency. The faint hum of in-ear monitors crackled through radio headsets, and the distant strumming of the band tuning up leaked through the heavy walls. With familiar ease, you found the staircase leading up to the private balcony, a space reserved for family and special guests—a safe haven away from the packed, pulsating crowd below.

As you stepped onto the balcony, the stadium came into full view, and the sheer magnitude of it stole your breath. Lisbon’s fans were nothing short of electric. The entire arena was alive—thousands of bodies swayed, neon signs flickered, and confetti cannons stood at the ready. The stomping of feet vibrated through the air, the deafening roar of the crowd swelling in waves as anticipation thickened.

And then, the lights dropped.

A collective scream pierced the air, shaking the ground beneath your feet as the screen flashed his silhouette. The opening beat of his first song thundered through the speakers, and in an instant, Harry was launched onto the stage, his presence igniting the entire stadium like a bolt of lightning.

He moved effortlessly, energy radiating off him in golden bursts. His sequined suit glittered beneath the beams of colored lights, reflecting off his skin as he jumped, spun, and threw his arms up to hype the crowd. He belted out the first lines of the song, and the audience erupted, their voices merging with his in a harmony of pure devotion.

From your balcony, you watched, utterly mesmerized.

His voice was strong, unwavering, carrying through the vast space as if each note was stitched directly into the hearts of every person in attendance. He laughed between verses, flashing that devastatingly charming grin, occasionally reaching down to clasp the hands of fans pressed against the barricades.

Midway through a song, his eyes scanned the crowd, catching sight of a brightly colored sign that bounced excitedly in the air. Squinting, he leaned forward, trying to make out the words. Then, in between lyrics, he burst into laughter.

“Oh, hold on—what does that say?” he asked, pointing toward the sign, signaling for the camera to zoom in so the whole stadium could see.

The screen flickered, and suddenly, there it was: a massive sign scrawled in bold, glittery letters—

“HARRY, MY BOYFRIEND SAYS HE’LL PROPOSE IF YOU GIVE ME A THUMBS UP!!”

Harry’s mouth dropped open in mock shock, his hand flying to his chest as he stumbled back dramatically. The band kept playing, but he milked the moment, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

“Oh, this is serious,” he said, eyebrows raised. “I mean… the pressure is on, innit?”

The crowd erupted in laughter and cheers.

“Alright, alright. We need to do this properly,” he continued, pacing theatrically across the stage. “What’s his name?”

The girl in the crowd shouted something, but it was lost in the chaos.

Harry cupped his ear. “Sorry, love, I can’t hear a thing—are we calling him Tom? He looks like a Tom, yeah?”

The camera quickly panned to the guy standing beside her, his face burning red as he hid behind his hands.

“Oh, it is Tom!” Harry cackled. “Tom, mate, you’re in deep now. You���ve got about… five thousand witnesses expecting a ring soon.”

The crowd went wild, chanting “TOM! TOM! TOM!” as Harry finally lifted his hand and gave the biggest, most exaggerated thumbs-up imaginable.

“There you go, Tom. It’s out of my hands now, mate. Best of luck!”

He winked at the camera before launching back into the chorus, the moment immortalized in the hearts of everyone watching.

From the balcony, you shook your head, laughing to yourself. He had always had that magic—the ability to make a stadium feel like a living room, to make each person feel like they were the only one in the crowd.

And as you watched him move, effortless and free, you couldn’t help but feel it all over again.

That warm, unshakable feeling that he was yours.

From the balcony, you swayed to the music, singing along, your voice drowned out by the thousands of others filling the stadium. The energy in the air was intoxicating, a tangible force that pulsed through the crowd, through you. Every time Harry twirled across the stage, every playful grin he threw into the audience, every time he leaned into the mic and let his voice soar, pride swelled so fiercely in your chest that it almost hurt.

He was magic.

Your eyes followed him as he bounced from one side of the stage to the other, engaging with the fans, twirling his microphone, pointing to signs, blowing kisses. He was in his element—electric, untouchable, radiating nothing but joy.

Then, the song faded into a bridge, and he took the brief moment to jog over to the back of the stage, grabbing his black bottle for a quick sip of water. He tilted his head back, throat bobbing as he swallowed, before lowering the bottle and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

But just as he turned back to the crowd, a security guard approached the edge of the stage, holding out two plastic cups of beer.

You sat up straighter, watching as Harry’s eyes lit up with mischief. A slow smirk curled his lips before he took a knee near the stage’s edge, reaching out to accept one of the cups. The crowd erupted, their cheers shaking the foundation of the stadium as he stood, beer in hand.

Bringing the cup to his lips, he took two large gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. The excess liquid spilled over, streaming down the corners of his mouth, tracing a slow, golden path down his chin and onto his bare chest. The sight did something to you—your stomach clenched, heat coiling low in your body as you watched, mesmerized. His skin glistened under the stage lights, damp with sweat and now streaked with droplets of beer, a sinful sheen against the inked canvas of his body.

Then, with a final gulp, he pulled the cup away, grinning devilishly before tilting his head back slightly. You knew what was coming before it even happened.

With perfect precision, he pursed his lips and spat the remaining beer into the air, misting it above him in a sparkling, golden arc—his signature ‘whale.’

The audience lost it. The screams were deafening, fists pumping, cameras flashing, the entire stadium roaring in approval.

And you? You could barely breathe.

Your grip tightened on the balcony railing, pulse hammering, unable to tear your gaze away from the sheer presence of him. He was completely in his element—wild, unrestrained, effortlessly captivating. The neon stage lights flickered in shifting hues of gold and blue, catching on the dampness of his skin, highlighting the defined planes of his chest where the beer had trickled down moments before.

Your breath hitched as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning through the remnants of the stunt. His dimples popped, eyes alight with something wicked, something playful. He licked his lips, whether to rid himself of the lingering taste or just to tease the crowd, you didn’t know—but either way, it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Didn’t expect that one, did ya?” he laughed into the mic, voice slightly hoarse from singing, but no less charming. The crowd’s response was deafening, a sea of voices screaming in admiration, chanting his name, some in thick Portuguese accents that made his smile widen.

You found yourself laughing softly, shaking your head in both amusement and sheer disbelief. God, you loved him.

As he turned to move back across the stage, his gaze flickered toward the balcony—the private guest area you were in.

His eyes found yours instantly. And for a split second, despite the thousands of people around him, despite the chaos, the music, the flashing lights, it felt like the two of you were the only ones in the room.

His smirk deepened, something knowing and burning behind his gaze, and he lifted the beer cup in your direction, sending you a subtle wink before tossing it carelessly to the side and diving straight into the next song.

Your heart plummeted. Plummeted so far you could feel a heartbeat between your thighs as your panties remained soaked just from watching the scene unfold.

Gripping the railing even tighter, you bit your lip, feeling everything all at once—love, pride, amusement, and an undeniable heat curling deep within you. Oh, you were so in trouble.

The moment the final notes rang out and Harry took his last bow, you were already on the move. The stadium lights dimmed as the crowd's roaring applause echoed behind you, but your sole focus was on getting back to him—on being the first person he saw after stepping off that stage.

Your heart pounded against your ribcage as you hurried through the dimly lit backstage corridors, your heels clicking against the polished floor. The distant cheers from fans still pulsed through the walls, mixing with the hurried chatter of crew members and the occasional bursts of laughter from passing bandmates. But none of it mattered.

Because the only thing on your mind was him.

The ache between your thighs had been building all night, your body tense with anticipation, wound tight from watching him move the way he did. The way his body swayed and pulsed to the rhythm, how he played with the audience, how he laughed and winked and commanded the entire stadium like it was his playground. The sweat glistening on his golden skin, the way his shirt clung to his damp chest, the audacity of him drinking that beer with such effortless sensuality—it had all set your body ablaze.

By the time you pushed through the door to his dressing room, your breathing was shallow, and your fingers trembled with the need to touch. The space was dimly lit, the air still carrying remnants of his cologne, the warmth from the performance lingering as if the very walls had absorbed the night’s electricity. You paced the floor, your boots barely making a sound over the plush carpet, each passing second stretching unbearably.

Then—footsteps. Heavy, hurried.

The door swung open, and before you could even think, you were moving.

You launched yourself at him with a squeal, and he caught you effortlessly, strong arms locking around your waist like it was second nature. Your legs wrapped around his torso, the firm press of his hands digging into your thighs as he held you up, and you wasted no time—your lips immediately peppering kisses all over his flushed face. His jaw, his cheek, the tip of his nose—anywhere you could reach.

"You were incredible!" you gasped between kisses, feeling the warmth of his laughter vibrate against your lips. "You owned that stage, Harry—God!"

His chuckle was breathless, deep, still high on adrenaline. "That good, huh?"

"That good," you confirmed, pulling back just enough to look at him, to take him in—the damp curls sticking to his forehead, the glow of his skin, the way his eyes burned with something dark, something wanting.

Then, you kissed him.

Hard.

The kind of kiss that left no room for teasing, no room for patience. You pressed yourself into him, your fingers tangling into his damp curls, tugging him closer as his mouth opened beneath yours, eager and hungry. His grip on your thighs tightened, fingers digging into your flesh in a way that made your head spin, the heat between your bodies dizzying.

The sticky remnants of beer and sweat clung between you, his chest still damp, hot beneath your palms as they roamed, exploring, claiming. Your sequined top shimmered under the dressing room light, catching against the heat of his skin, the contrast of rough and soft making him groan into your mouth.

"Fuck," he exhaled, the sound barely audible between fevered kisses, his hands shifting to your ass, kneading, gripping. "This what had you running back here so fast?"

You whimpered against his lips, rolling your hips instinctively, needing more, needing him.

"You have no idea what you did to me out there," you admitted, voice breathless, lips grazing along the corner of his mouth, down to his jaw. "The beer—the sweat—Harry..."

He let out a deep, raspy chuckle, head tipping back slightly as your lips trailed down his throat. "Mm. So you liked that, then?"

"Liked it?" You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers dragging down his chest, feeling the hammering of his heartbeat beneath your touch. "It ruined me."

His eyes darkened, a slow smirk curling at the edges of his mouth. "That so?"

Before you could answer, he was moving. Turning with you in his arms, his pace quick and determined as he pressed you up against the nearest wall. Your breath hitched as your back met the cool surface, your thighs tightening around his waist, your skirt riding up even further.

Harry’s lips ghosted over yours, teasing, taunting, his breath warm against your mouth. "Tell me, love," he murmured, voice dripping with amusement but laced with hunger. "What exactly did I do that got you so worked up?"

You let out a soft whine from the back of your throat, the tone of his voice shooting straight to your core. “You know what you did,” you huffed. 

The man had only chuckled in amusement as his fingers readjusted their hold on your thighs, squeezing into the plush flesh. “I believe I told you to tell me, Y/N.”

Your hands found the sweaty curls at the nape of his neck, threading your fingers through as you puffed out another breath. God, he smelled so good. His cologne still lingered, mixed with the tart scent of beer and sweat. You drew in a deep breath, feeling your back press firm against the wall as he shifted. 

“The beer…,” you murmured, eyes scanning over the features of his face. Deep green eyes, perfect red lips. 

“What about the beer, hm?”

You swallowed. “The… the way you drank it. How it spilt down your chin, your chest..” Your words trailed off as a hand left your boyfriend’s shoulder to slide over the firm curve of his chest, your thumb brushing down his sternum. 

You rolled your hips down to meet him and whined softly. The black mini skirt you wore hitched up over your thighs, bunching up just below your hips. Harry’s lips found yours in a flash. The groan he let out was quickly swallowed in your mouth and you couldn’t help but feel content. Feeling his bulge pressed up against you sent a thrill up your spine to know he felt this way, right now, too. That he needed you as much as you needed him.

Harry's kiss was all-consuming, his lips pressing firmly against yours, demanding more as his hands kneaded the flesh of your thighs. The heat between you two was palpable, thickening the air in the dressing room, mingling with the remnants of his cologne, sweat, and beer. Your fingers tangled in his damp curls, pulling just enough to elicit a low growl from his throat, the vibration traveling straight through your body.

His grip tightened on your thighs as he pressed you harder against the wall, your chest molding against his as his vest gaped open, the sequins glimmering under the dim dressing room lights. The slight stickiness of his skin from the sweat and beer sent a shiver down your spine, adding to the intoxicating mixture of sensations.

His mouth left yours just long enough to ghost down the side of your jaw, lips brushing featherlight over your pulse before he licked a slow, deliberate path along the sensitive skin. The wet heat of his tongue, contrasted by the scrape of his stubble, sent a warm ache pooling in your lower stomach.

“You’re trouble,” he murmured, his voice husky, words fanning against your skin. His fingers slipped under the hem of your mini skirt, palms gliding over the bare expanse of your thighs before they gripped your ass, pulling you flush against him.

You gasped at the contact, your hips instinctively rolling against his, chasing the friction that sent sparks dancing along your nerve endings. He groaned at the movement, his forehead dropping to your shoulder for a moment as his fingers flexed into your skin, grounding himself.

"You drive me mad, darling," he rasped, before tilting his head back up, his darkened green eyes locking onto yours. The hunger in them made your breath hitch.

"Standing there in the balcony, looking like that. Wearing this—" his fingers tugged teasingly at the hem of your sparkly top, his knuckles grazing your stomach "—knowing I couldn’t touch you. And then you look at me like that when I’m on stage?"

You bit your lip, a playful glint in your eyes as your hands smoothed down his chest, nails trailing lightly over his heated skin. "Couldn't help myself," you whispered.

"You looked so good, so in your element. The way you moved, how you drank that beer…" Your words trailed off as you slid your palms lower, fingers grazing over the faint definition of his abs.

Harry’s chest rose and fell heavily, his breathing uneven. He let out a shaky chuckle, his lips quirking up in a smirk even as his jaw clenched with restraint. “That did something to you, huh?”

Instead of answering, you leaned forward, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against his collarbone. His skin tasted of salt and something uniquely him, a flavor you could never tire of.

Your lips traveled downward, slow and deliberate, as your hands splayed over his stomach, fingertips pressing just enough to feel the taut muscles beneath.

A deep groan rumbled from his chest as you let your tongue flick out against his sternum, tasting the remnants of the beer that had trickled down earlier. Your eyes flickered up to meet his, your expression coy as you dragged a slow, flat tongue down the center of his chest, savoring the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

His breath hitched, his fingers twitching against your thighs before they slid further under your skirt, his grip possessive. “Fuck, love,” he exhaled, watching you through heavy-lidded eyes, the green almost swallowed by blown-out pupils.

His hand came up to cup the back of your head, not to stop you, but to feel you, to remind himself that this was real.

As you slowly sank to your knees before him, his grip tightened in your hair, his chest rising and falling in anticipation. Your fingers smoothed over the front of his sequined vest, pushing it further apart, exposing more of the golden skin that shimmered under the dressing room lights.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” Harry murmured, his voice thick with desire, his thumb tracing over your cheek before resting against your bottom lip. His eyes darkened as you let out a soft hum, hands sliding up his sparkly trousers to slip your fingers inside the band of his pants.

Your fingers slid inward under they worked the clasp undone, the sound of Harry’s zipper filling the air. Harry pressed his hands flat against the wall that held you between him and the surface while his green eyes pierced a look of need through you.

You let out a small, innocent giggle before tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, fingers curling around the inside of his briefs and the outside of his slacks as she tugged both the materials down his toned legs.

The tattoos he had on his thighs were canvassed beautifully on his toned, tan legs. The tiger taunted her from its hold on his skin, a reminder from all the times she spent with her pussy attached to it. Your eyes, doe and tainted with something teasing, looked up at him as his cock sprang to life and slapped onto his lower abdomen. You giggled once more to yourself at the blissful sight. 

Harry’s cock was big. Thick and wonderfully above the average that it took four sessions to fully get him inside of you. And the sex you two had that day? The bedroom was wrecked. You couldn’t stop begging for his ‘big, thick cock’ to rip you open, eyes rolling back at the feeling (finally) of his balls slapping against your clit with each giving thrust as you were bent over for him.

His tip was a roaring red, deep in color and a thick swole at the base of his tip. A cooler tone of that same color painted the rest of his dick. Your fingers fluttered down his toned thighs, your eyes too busy being wrapped around his beautiful cock to notice his stare. But you felt it.

After a few mutters of complaint from Harry from your featherlight teases, your dainty hand finally wrapped around the base of your cock. He was warm. Heavy in your hand as your thumb slipped along the underside of his cock to raise it to your lips. Your lips puckered and gave kitten-like kisses and licks from his fierce burnt tip down to his tightening balls.

“Baby, c’mon…” Harry spoke. His voice was tainted with rough edges, holding off using anything above a whisper since he had last spoken. The hand that remained in your hair carded through the soft locks, his nails slightly dragging along your scalp so he could get a soft hum from you when you tilted your head back.

You were under his control, the palms of his very hands. Anything he gave to you, you took like his good girl. “Good girl,” Harry then muttered as if on cue, fond but lust-filled eyes circling your face of content. His touch was always so welcoming, so soothing and it hit every right spot.

When you felt Harry’s hand tighten in your hair to form a proper grip, that's when your tongue gave a flat lick up the underside of his cock. You held his shaft upright, your eyes locked on his heavy green ones as your wet tongue glided over the vein and swirled around his tip. 

When it came to sucking your boyfriend off, you got to work. It was pure bliss for you. You shifted on your knees and felt the wet squelch between your thighs. You were a soaking mess for him and had been since he got on that stage. 

Lips engulfed around his cock, your jaw slacked as you pushed him further down. Once about halfway, you pulled up to wrap your hand around him, delivering strokes to his dick as your eyes scanned his face. Harry never really cared for head before. It was pish-posh to him, it wasn’t something he needed or wanted deeply with a woman.

But when you came along? When you took his cock so far down your throat that you both couldn’t breathe? Harry was whipped. He always voiced how lucky he was to have you on your knees for him, and you thrived on it. You thrived on being the only one he needed.

Your tongue found its place back over his tip, cradling the head of his shaft as your tongue swirled gracefully around. Harry’s brows were furrowed in pleasure, his plump lips wet with his spit from all the times he had licked over them.

“Y/n—”.

Your mouth fully engulfed him before another word left his lips. His dick was heavy on your tongue as it slid further back, hitting the back of your throat. His cock curved to slip down your throat and you moaned, the tip of your nose hitting the patch of hair Harry had kept. 

With a deep inhale through your nose, your eyes fluttered shut. His musk mixed with his cologne made you let out a moan around him. He smelled so damn good.

“Fuck!” Harry groaned, pinching his brows together as he felt the way your throat molded to his cock with tight ease. 

You continued to bob your head, tongue pressing along the vein on the underside of his cock while your hand worked the half that you didn’t take. Your eyes fluttered back up to him.

“Shit, baby,” The man moaned, shaking his head as his eyes shut in pleasure. His jaw was slack, you could tell by the way he tried to clench his teeth. His curls fell across his forehead and the hand at the back of your head encouraged you.

Removing your hand, your throat opened back up for Harry’s cock as he pushed your head further down. His hips stuttered slightly as a gasping moan left his mouth, jaw now completely slack as the tip of his cock felt your warm, fluttering throat.

Harry’s grip on your hair was firm as he yanked you off, pulling his hips back with a gasp. You let out a whine as your lips formed a pout.

“Fucking hell, Y/n,” The man licked his lips with a shaky breath. His chest rose and fell unevenly. Harry’s hand left your hair to card through his and push curls back, hissing slightly as you kissed and licked along his tip. 

He was so wrong to deprive you of his cock in your mouth. You just loved it so much. Who wouldn't? Especially when it came to Harry.

“You… fuck,” He hummed low, eyes closing and head tipping back as your hand cradled his balls and began slow massaging motions. Your tongue slipped between the slit at his tip and under the crown of his dick along with your motions. And just when you think you had him again…

Harry had to pull himself together, snapping his eyes open as he straightened back up. “No,” He hissed, yanking your head back by your hair until you were looking up at him. Your lips were glossed with spit, eyes the same from the pressure in your throat, though a huff passed your lips.

“If you keep doing that, ‘M going to cum. And the only place I want to cum right now,” He grunted, a hand wrapping around your arm to lightly pull you up. As you rose to your feet, you kept your doe eyes on check. 

His green eyes scanned your features for a moment before he cursed under his breath, continuing what he was saying. “Is inside ‘f you. Understood?”

You nodded and bit back a smile as your thighs clenched. Fuck, please? “Yes sir.” 

With that, Harry turned you around in a sharp motion, turning you both. Harry walked you both towards the leather sofa in the middle of the dressing room, his hand landing flat on your back as he gave you an encouraging push.

Your knees hit the leather seat before your hands hit the back, fingers curling around the ledge as you felt your boyfriend press up behind you.

You loved it when he was like this. The manhandling, the telling you what to do. It drove you crazy. Your pussy pulsed between your clenched thighs. You needed him, his thick cock pounding you, bad.

Harry’s large hands landed on the globes of your ass, pulling your cheeks apart as he pressed his cock up against you over the material of your skirt. “Tell me, sugar,” his hands danced their way to your skirt’s hem around your hips and yanked them down to your thighs in one, swift motion. “You’re so wet.” 

“Why?” You could feel Harry’s long fingers graze the inside of your thighs, feathering over where you needed them the most.

You swallowed, arching your back down against the sofa as you turned back to look at him. “You.”

Harry ‘tsk’ed, his green eyes looking up to meet yours as his pointer and middle finger slid between your folds. Thick and silky, wet and warm. You coated his fingers like your life depended on it. “Give me better than that, Peach.”

Peach. He tossed that nickname one random summer when you two went down to help your grandparents on their farm in Georgia. He held you on his shoulders almost the whole way until he collapsed (he says from the sun, you say it was from the two buckets of peaches in his hands) under a shady tree. You two spent the rest of the evening out there soaking in Georgia heat and feeding each other fruit until the sun went down. He carried you all the way back.

“Your cock,” you whimpered at the feeling of his fingers. “I love having your cock in my mouth and—.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, cutting you off as he dipped a finger slowly into you. “You do love having m’cock in your mouth, huh?”

You nodded between a split moan, pussy swallowing his finger with greed. “I do. I do. I do. I love the way it feels, I love the way it tastes, oh—!”

Another finger inside now, pumping at a teasing pace and curling as they stuffed inside of you. It was your turn to moan filth now. You could hear Harry’s fingers inside of you, pumping and curling. That’s how wet you had been for him.

“You’re so wet,” Harry cursed under his breath as he scissored his fingers, his eyes flickering between your blissed look and his fingers that worked between your wetness.

He always loved how wet you got. Not needing to buy lube was fantastic, but the way you tasted and smelled is what got Harry going. He loved watching your thighs string with slick substance, and he loved diving tongue first into your pussy to swallow down as much as he could.

“Is this what you needed? My attention? You’ve been wanting it, hm?”

You nodded with a whine. “Mhm, mhm. Please,” you whimpered, wiggling your ass against him as his fingers curled inside of you once more.

“Been such a good girl during m’show. Waited for me, and then surprised me with a soaked pussy,” Harry grinned, shaking his head to his own amusement as he slipped his long, thick digits out of you.

That same hand of Harry’s returned to your cunt, his fingers collecting the pool of arousal before he wrapped a slick hand around his cock. “Need t’be fucked? I think you do, don’t you? My sweet little girl,” he sighed dramatically, slicking his cock with your wet in careful strokes.

“Yes, yes, please, Harry, just please.” You whimpered in need, wiggling your ass back. You could almost cry at the emptiness inside of you, just wanted to be full of Harry.

You gasped high when a hand came down to smack against your ass. It jiggled from the collision and Harry’s rings left a burn in their place. 

“Try again.” Harry’s green eyes looked up through his lashes. “Not my name, doll.”

You huffed softly, shifting on your knees to spread your legs as you felt Harry’s tip graze along your pussylips. “Please give me your cock, Daddy. Please. I need it.” You begged, soft whimpers in your words as you batted doe eyes at him.

With one swift thrust, Harry’s tip broke past your tight entrance and paved way for his cock to fill you up. You both let out simultaneous gasps as he bottomed out, your ass pressed flush against his hips.

“So fuckin’ tight,” Harry gritted through clenched cheeks while his large hands worked over your hips to get a firm grip. 

He drew his hips back slowly, sinking back into you quickly. Your lips broke out in a moan as the burn of his cock melted into you. It took him three thrusts to balance out, pulling nearly all the way out of you before pounding back into you. 

He was slow at first. Careful and deep. Your eyes couldn't help but flutter shut as your lips parted, his cock shooting thrills of pleasure to your body. Your clit ached with need under his grasp and cock.

Then his pace quickened. His head spun with thoughts of you, how tight you were and how perfect your pussy engulfed him. “Shit,” Harry groaned as he grinded his hips into you, allowing his cock to shift inside before he went back to his quick, even, and hard thrusts.

“That’s it, baby. Take this fucking cock, jus’ like you were made for.”

You were over the moon. Behind your shut eyes were visions of Harry and that beer spilling down his chest over and over and over again.

“Oh,” you whined, your toes curling in your heels as his fingers connected with your clit. “Oh my god, fuck, please, please.”

His two fingers worked your clit at a fast matched pace to his thrusts. Your stomach coiled as each rub and thrust brought you closer and closer to the edge.

Harry’s thrusts turned relentless. The moment he got you up and pressed against his chest, his other hand was reaching down to hook around the back of your knee and pull your leg up. 

“Oh my fuck!,” you cried out in a moan, the new angle allowing his cock to reach deeper. 

“Yeah? Jesus,” Harry grunted as he shifted his hips and replanted his feet. “So damn tight, so wet. Taking my cock like it was made for you.”

“It was,” you whined and nodded quickly, your hands placed over his arm that had you pulled flush against his chest. “Was made just for you,” you slurred, eyes drooping in pleasure as you broke into another whiny moan. 

“That's right,” the man panted, his lips grazing the side of your neck. “Perfect fucking cunt, takes my cock so well— fuck!”

Harry’s jaw fell slack against your shoulder, curls brushing along the side of your neck when he felt your pussy contract around him. Harry’s fingers circled around your clit, pinching and rubbing in all of your wetness. 

The both of you couldn’t stop the rush of moans. You weren’t even sure if the door was locked, but all you could think about right now was Harry.

His eyes broke open, staring down at your chest as your breasts spilled from your loose top. Harry’s hand slid from your waist to the bottom of your tit, cupping the fleshy mound in his hand. “The most perfect fucking body,” he groaned, squeezing your breast as he dug his fingers into your leg from the open hold. 

Harry continued to pound your pussy until you were a screaming, soaked mess. Your chest rose and fell in quick and uneven breaths in between moans and begs. “Please let me cum, please, please, fuck. Please, Daddy,” you whimpered, swallowing thick as his fingers brushed along your nipple. 

Harry groaned into your neck, biting down on the flesh as he continued his deep thrusts inside of you. You could tell he was getting close with the way his thrusts went uneven.

“Yeah? Need t’cum?” Harry taunted, squeezing at your nipple once again before his fingers mound your clit to rub at a quick pace. “Cum f’me, pretty girl.”

His permission was all you needed before your orgasm hit you. You cried out his name, nails digging into his forearm as your pussy clenched and spasmed around his cock. You squirted into the open air, the filthy sounds of your liquid splattering onto the brown leather beneath you two. 

Harry choked out a moan at the sight, jaw falling slack and eyes pinching shut. His own orgasm hit him like a train three thrusts after, pumping you full of thick, hot ropes of his cum. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!,” the man gasped, whimpering as his cock twitched inside of you as he pumped the final spurts of his release inside of you.

Your body trembled as aftershocks rippled through you, every nerve alight with pleasure and exhaustion. Harry's hands were slow and reverent as they traced over your skin, smoothing over your thighs before sliding up to your waist, fingertips pressing gently into your overheated flesh. His touch grounded you, brought you back from the blissful haze that had left you weak-limbed and breathless.

"Good girl," he murmured again, voice deep and rough with the remnants of pleasure, lips grazing the damp skin of your shoulder as he let his forehead rest against your back for a fleeting moment.

The warmth of his breath fanned across your spine, making you shiver despite the heat still radiating between you.

With a soft groan, Harry straightened, slipping away just long enough to grab a few tissues from the nearby table. He moved with that signature confidence, even in his post-high daze, but there was a new tenderness in his actions as he carefully cleaned you both up. His hands, so capable of bringing you to ruin, were equally skilled in their gentleness now—warm, patient, and familiar.

Once satisfied, he tossed the used tissues aside and reached for his duffel bag near the couch, unzipping it to pull out a pair of his soft, worn-in sweats and a shirt for you. The fabric was well-loved, carrying his scent—fresh cedarwood and the faintest trace of lingering cologne, something comforting and inherently him. 

He passed them to you before grabbing his own spare clothes, rummaging until he found a plain black T-shirt and another pair of joggers.

Rolling his shoulders, he started removing the sequin suit still clinging to his skin, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “God, I’m sweaty as hell now,” he groaned, shaking his head with a dramatic grimace. “S’like I ran a bloody marathon.” (wink wink.)

You snorted, tugging his T-shirt over your head and shimmying into his sweatpants. They hung loose on your frame, but that only made them all the more comforting. “You were putting in some serious work there, Styles,” you teased, watching as he peeled off the glitzy fabric and tossed it onto the couch.

Harry scoffed but shot you a smug grin. “’Course I was. Can’t have my girl unsatisfied, now can I?”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks, but you rolled your eyes to play off the effect he still had on you. “Yeah, yeah. Get dressed, loverboy.”

He huffed a small laugh but did as told, slipping into his fresh set of clothes before collapsing onto the couch with a content sigh. His curls were a mess, damp at the edges where sweat had gathered, and there was still a faint flush to his cheeks. He looked comfortable, utterly relaxed—and, as always, completely unfair in how effortlessly beautiful he was.

You stepped closer, nudging his thigh with your knee. “Scoot over.”

Harry cracked one eye open and grinned. “That’s not how you ask nicely.”

You shot him a pointed look. “Harry.”

Chuckling, he lifted his arm in invitation. “C’mere, then.”

That was all you needed. You climbed into his lap, tucking yourself against his chest as he pulled you in securely, arms looping around your waist with ease. The steady thump-thump of his heartbeat filled your ears, a soothing rhythm beneath your cheek. His fingers traced absent-minded patterns along your back, the heat of his palm seeping through the cotton of his shirt.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence was comfortable, wrapped in the afterglow of shared intimacy and the quiet understanding that neither of you wanted to move just yet. Outside the dressing room, the distant hum of activity from the crew still breaking down the concert setup could be heard, but it felt like another world entirely.

After a moment, Harry pressed a lazy kiss to the top of your head. “Y’good?” he murmured, voice thick with lingering exhaustion.

You hummed, nuzzling further into his chest. “Mhm. Perfect.”

He smiled against your hair, holding you a little tighter. “Good.”

“Harry?” You spoke.

“Mhm?”

“When we get back to the hotel,” you started, your finger tracing little circles into his shirt, “I want to be the next thing dripping down your chest.”

“Fucking hell, babe.”

[lascvitae]

need smut with sugar mommy giselle pls! 😵‍💫😵‍💫 thank u, rlly love ur writing😼😼😼

DRIPPIN’ IN DIOR ✵ AERI UCHINAGA.

❀ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ alt. DRIPPIN’ IN DIOR, YOU LIKE IT / I COULD

PUT TEN ON THE FLOOR IF YOU LIKE IT .ᐟ

ᝰ.ᐟ she flew you out for her business trip in paris. you were supposed to behave while she worked — instead, you did the opposite.

ᝰ.ᐟ pairing. sugar mommy!giselle x brat!fem!reader ᝰ.ᐟ genre. smut (18+) ᝰ.ᐟ warning(s). dom!aeri, masturbation, orgasm control, begging, praise && degradation, light choking, spanking, use of toys (dildo), scissoring, mommy kink, pet names (baby, angel, slut), lmk if i missed anything!

ᝰ.ᐟ wc 3.6k

ᝰ.ᐟ katty idk i never been to paris

ᝰ.ᐟ now playing — lose my mind by partynextdoor.

masterlist.

“YOU'RE NOT PACKED.” minjeong’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her hoodie while watching you scroll through outfits like you’re not supposed to be on an international flight in like, three hours.

“i’m packing in my head. help me decide what gives ‘parisian slut.’” you say, holding a silk slip dress up to your body and squinting in the mirror.

“you’re disgusting. you haven’t even printed your boarding pass. do you even know what terminal you’re in?” she mutters, stepping fully into your room.

“minjeong, sweetie. baby. light of my life. when you have a hot, loaded ceo who books everything for you, the only terminal you have to know about it the one that has the nicest lounge.” you toss the dress on the bed and turn to her with a smile.

“so you don’t know.”

“nope.”

she sighs, looking you over. “you’ve packed four outfits and three are lingerie.”

“and two are gifts. one’s got her initials embroidered on the front.” you add.

“you cannot be real.”

“it’s our thing, minjeongie.” you say, holding up a ridiculously tiny set of lacy red panties.

“your thing is you being a slut and her being a simp.”

“exactly.”

minjeong watches as you finally start tossing clothes into your suitcase — some heels, skincare, a leather mini skirt that should probably be used as a crop top. she raises an eyebrow when you toss in a compact pink vibrator… then flat out gags when you follow it with a glittery silicone dildo in a discreet velvet pouch.

“you’re sick.”

“i’m prepared.”

“for what? to make a sex tape?”

“for boredom. she’s in meetings all morning. what am i supposed to do, read?” you reply sweetly.

“you could sightsee.”

“i will. the view from the balcony while i ride this and moan her name like a good little whore.”

“oh my god.”

“relax. it’s not like i’m packing the strap.”

you pause.

“…wait, should i pack the strap?”

“don’t talk to me.” she throws a pillow at you.

you dodge it, grinning. “don’t be jealousss.”

“i’m not! i’m just concerned for your soul.”

“my soul is in paris with my sugar mommy.”

“your soul’s in the dust.”

“same thing.”

   ────────── ౨ৎ──────────

two hours later, she’s the one wheeling your bag through the terminal like an irritated older sibling while you sip an iced coffee and take a blurry photo of your boarding pass for your private story.

“text me when you land. no, actually, text me before you land. and don’t go anywhere alone, and don’t let weird men come near your drink, and don’t—“ minjeong says.

“babe. relax. i’ll be with aeri the whole time.”

“mhm. until you wander off for a selfie and get kidnapped in chanel.”

“if they let me keep the bag it might be worth it.”

minjeong groans. “if you come back with a ring and a french sugar mommy on top of the japanese one, you’re in trouble.”

“no i’m not. you always knew i’d marry rich.”

she smiles despite herself before pulling you in for a quick, tight hug. “have fun. love you. don’t fall in love.”

“too late.” you respond. 

you told her not to pick you up. not because you didn’t want her to — god, no. she offered casually, like it wouldn’t be a big deal, but the idea of minjeong hovering in the background, whispering “slut” under her breath while watching you climb into a luxury car felt a little too real.

“i’ll meet you at the gate. not that serious.” you said.

she only hummed in response. “mm. if you say so.”

which brings you here — walking down the jet bridge towards first class with your sunglasses on, lip gloss recently applied and heart racing for reasons you’re pretending not to examine.

she’s already seated. her blazer is tailored, trousers loose, heels off, one leg crossed over the other. her phone’s in one hand and a glass of champagne is in the other. she glances up when she senses you, and that slow amused smile spreads across her face. 

“you made it.” she says. 

“barely. minjeong was being annoying.” you mutter, slipping into the seat beside her.

“ah. your handler.”

“my emotional support.”

aeri chuckles, passing you the other glass of champagne without asking. you take it, sip, and sigh like you’ve already arrived in paris. 

“i told you i could’ve picked you up.” she says, glancing over.

“yeah, and i told you i didn’t want to make it a thing.”

“this isn’t a thing?”

“this is a trip. you said you had meetings. i said i’d come. that’s all.” you say, adjusting the strap of your top. 

there’s a pause.

her eyes are still on you, calm and steady. “right.”

you shift in your seat, feigning indifference as you stare ahead. “you’re so annoying.”

“you’re here. that’s all that matters.” she murmurs, leaning in slightly.

your fingers tighten just a little around your glass.

   ────────── ౨ৎ──────────

the driver opens the car door before you can even reach for the handle.

aeri steps out first, murmurs something in french to the valet and then reaches back for you without thinking — one hand extended and the other tucking her phone into her coat pocket.

you take it, trying not to look too impressed. but the hotel is gorgeous. pale stone, tall arched windows and a glass awning that makes it look more like a palace than a place people actually stay in.

“this is nice.” you say, because you don’t know how to say holy shit without sounding… lower class.

“better inside.” she replies, guiding you through the gold revolving doors like she’s done this a hundred times. maybe she has.

the lobby smells like something expensive and clean. there’s soft music playing, maybe a piano, and the check in takes less than a minute. aeri doesn’t even have to say her name. they just hand her the key card with a quiet “welcome back, madame.”

you glance over at her. “you’ve stayed here before?”

“once or twice.”

you raise an eyebrow. “how many girls have you brought here?”

she smiles slightly but doesn’t answer.

the elevator ride is quiet. your shoulder brushes hers once. you’re not sure if she notices or if she notices and likes it.

you step into the suite and actually stop. it’s cream and soft gold, a wall of windows showing off a sparkly view of the city, and a little terrace with a bistro table and chairs. the bed is big enough for four people. you want to fall face first into it.

aeri sets her bag down and starts slipping off her coat. “make yourself at home. i have a meeting in two hours.”

“so i get you until then?”

she turns to look at you, amused. “you sound disappointed.”

“i’m not. just saying.”

“hm. don’t get shy now, baby. you’re the one who wanted to come.” she walks over and lightly brushes your arm with her fingers.

“i wasn’t shy.”

“no?”

“no. just overwhelmed.” you say, ignoring the way your face feels a little warm.

“you’ll adjust.”

you hum, dropping onto the edge of the bed and stretching out like you own the place. “you’re gonna come back to find me in a robe with room service and a face mask on.”

“perfect. you’ll look nice all pampered when i come back.” she says, already halfway to the closet.

you stay flopped on the bed while aeri unpacks, stretching out. she’s got her blouse hanging neatly on a velvet hanger, slacks folded over the back of a chair, heels lined up like she’s in a showroom. it’s so her. precise. elegant. a little intimidating.

and you?

you’ve kicked off your shoes and sunk back into the pillows like they were made for you.

“you don’t have to leave yet.” you murmur.

aeri glances over at you from the closet. “i have to look over some slides before i go.”

“you could look them over in bed.”

“you’d make that impossible.”

“exactly.”

she gives you a look — completely amused. “are you always like this when you travel?”

“only when i’m spoiled.”

“so… always.”

you grin. “you love it.”

she doesn’t respond. just walks over to the dresser and opens a small jewelry case then starts putting on her earrings.

you sit up a little straighter, tilting your head. “is that a new necklace?”

“you noticed.”

“hard not to. you know you look really hot in a suit, right?” you lick your lips, watching the way her fingers work the clasp behind her neck.

“i’ve heard.”

“you’ve heard.” you echo, rolling your eyes.

aeri doesn’t answer. she just glances over her shoulder, making sure you’re watching as she smooths her blouse down, buttons her sleeve cuffs, and adjusts her necklace in the mirror.

you are watching. legs crossed at the ankle and lips parted slightly. you don’t even bother to hide it.

“actually, you know. you could cancel the meeting.” you say, voice lazy. 

she lets out an airy laugh. “mhm? and what would i tell the board?”

“tell them you’re busy fucking your favorite.” you respond.

aeri raises an eyebrow but doesn’t look away from the mirror. “my favorite?”

“don’t pretend like i’m not.”

she walks back over to the bed, grabbing her blazer from the chair on the way. she stands right in front of you, one hand slipping into her sleeve and the other brushing lightly under your chin.

“you are. but favorites don’t always get what they want.” she says softly.

you pout, tilting your face into her touch. “i could behave.”

“you could. but you won’t.” she hums, sliding her thumb across your lower lip.

you grin around her finger as she slips it into your mouth. you close your lips slowly, sucking just enough to see her eyes flicker before she pulls away.

“see? so needy.” she says, stepping back.

“you love it. you love how desperate i get for you.” you say, watching her put on her blazer fully.

“i love that you know your place.”

you bite back a smile, letting your legs fall open just a little. “which is?”

“right here. in this room, waiting for me.” she says, nodding toward the bed.

you moan. shamelessly. “mommy.”

her mouth twitches, just barely.

“be good. order room service. be patient.” she says, glancing at the time.

“but what if—”

“be patient. don’t touch yourself. or you’ll be in trouble.” she repeats, eyes sharp now.

you suck in a breath.

she walks to the door and tosses a final look over her shoulder.

“see you soon, angel.”

then she’s gone. leaving you alone with the sound of the clock. 

you don’t know how long it’s been, but it’s quiet. too quiet.

you lay back dramatically against the pillows like you’re in a tragic melodrama. your leg drapes off the edge of the bed and you’ve changed into a robe now. the air conditioning kicks on and the silk sticks to your skin.

you haven’t touched yourself.

yet.

but it’s getting hard.

you flip through the room service menu like it’ll distract you. it doesn’t. every word makes you think of her. you groan and throw the menu across the bed.

you try pacing. you try watching the eiffel tower sparkle through the terrace glass. you try laying back down, hands behind your head, legs spread just a little, just for air, but then—

the robe slips.

your nipple brushes the silk and you gasp.

“fuck.” you mutter, already squirming.

you close your legs. open them again. close them tighter.

you glance at the bedside drawer.

“no.”

you glance again.

“…fuck.”

you drag yourself across the bed and open it like it might explode. it doesn’t. it’s just the toy, tucked neatly in its velvet pouch, waiting like it knows you’re not allowed.

you stare.

your thighs press together instinctively.

she told you not to touch yourself.

you bite your lip. hard.

but you didn’t touch yourself yet. not really. just… thinking.

thinking isn’t a crime.

you lie back, letting the robe fall open, skin flushed with heat. you run your fingertips over your stomach lightly. not lower. not yet. but your clit pulses with every breath.

you squeeze your thighs together again. “mommy…”

you reach between your legs — just to feel. your fingers brush over your folds and your hips jerk.

wet. warm. soaked.

you moan breathlessly.

you spread your legs a little wider and slide your fingers through the mess between your thighs, collecting it and teasing your entrance. not inside. not really.

you don’t notice your other hand slipping up to your chest, rolling your nipple between two fingers until you’re arching into your own touch.

your body aches for her.

your fingers circle your clit once — just once — and you gasp.

you can’t take it.

you sit up. reach for the drawer.

the pouch feels warm in your hands.

you pull the toy out, slow. your mouth is dry. your legs are already shaking and you haven’t even put it in yet.

you bite your lip and whisper to no one: “i’m sorry, mommy,” as you sink back into the pillows and push the tip against your entrance. your hips twitch like your body’s been waiting for it all day.

your cunt is soaked. practically pulling the toy in with every shaky breath.

inch by inch, you sink down, eyes fluttering closed.

“shit.” you whisper, high and soft.

you roll your hips once. then again.

the stretch hits perfect. it’s slow and deep and, muscles clenching around the silicone like you need it. your thighs are trembling already. you try to stay quiet but when your hand slides down to rub your clit, your mouth falls open on instinct.

you fuck yourself slow and desperate, back arching, hand tight in the sheets. you’re dripping and the sound of it — wet, loud, and shameless — fills the whole room.

and then—

click.

you freeze.

your eyes snap open, heart pounding.

the door opens slowly and aeri steps inside. her hair is a little messy like she was pissed and tugged on it in the elevator.

her eyes land on you instantly — and stay there.

you’re flushed, thighs open, toy buried deep, frozen mid thrust.

she shuts the door behind her and you don’t move. then she walks toward the bed.

“look at you. you really couldn’t wait.” she murmurs.

her voice is soft. almost amused, which makes it worse. she moves slowly towards the bed, eyes fixed on the spot where the toy disappears between your thighs.

you stay frozen. breathing heavy. hands still.

“what did i say before i left?” she asks, slipping off her heels and shrugging off her blazer with practiced ease.

you open your mouth. nothing comes out.

her gaze flicks to yours. “answer me.”

“not to touch myself.” your voice is small.

she hums. “and what are you doing now, baby?”

you swallow hard. “touching myself.”

“mm. and why’s that?” she slips her watch off and sets it on the nightstand.

you pause then whimper. “i missed you.”

“you missed mommy so much you couldn’t keep your hands off this needy little cunt? poor baby.” she murmurs, brushing her thumb along your jaw.

you lean into the touch. she pulls away instantly.

“don’t even try. you think you get affection after breaking the rules?” she says flatly.

you whine.

“uh uh. you wanna act like a slut, you get fucked like one.” she cuts you off.

she grabs the toy where it’s still inside you and presses it in deeper, slow and hard until you gasp.

then pulls it out all at once.

you cry out.

“face down.”

you hurry into the position, face burning, hips high in the air. you hear her set the toy on the nightstand and then the sound of her shirt being unbuttoned. the shift of fabric. the bed dips behind you.

you barely have time to breathe before her hand comes down across your ass.

smack.

you yelp. then moan.

“count.”

“one.”

another smack.

“two— fuck—”

“louder.”

“three, mommy—”

she spanks you until your thighs shake and you’re dripping again, cunt pulsing open with every hit. only then does she reach for the toy again.

“you wanted it so bad? then fuck yourself with it. let me see how desperate you really are.” she purrs, trailing the tip along your folds. you hesitate.

“now.”

you push it in, shaky and soaked. aeri watches you from behind, hand tangled in your hair as she drags your head back.

“no cumming without permission. if you do, i’m making you clean it with your tongue.”

you moan — because you want to. because she knows you want to.

your thighs are shaking. you fuck yourself on the toy like she told you, moaning into the pillows, hips rolling in slow, messy circles. but it’s not enough. not without her touching you.

you choke on another moan when her hand finally slips around your waist — not to help, but to drag your hips back, force you to take it deeper.

“fuck— mommy, please—”

“what? this is what you wanted, right? a little attention from me?” her voice is sweet and cruel.

you nod frantically.

“then show me. rub your clit like a good girl.”

you obey immediately, fingers shaky and wet as you start circling your clit.

your eyes roll back. “fuck— fuck— i can’t—”

“you can.”

“mommy—”

“you’re not cumming yet.”

you whine, hips bucking, desperate for more friction. her palm slides over your lower back to keep you still. she leans in, breath hot on your ear.

“not until i say. not until you beg.”

you sob.

“please, mommy. please let me cum— i need it so bad, i’ve been good— i’ll be so good, just let me—”

“not good enough.”

“i’ll do anything. anything, just please—”

she hums, thumb brushing lazily over your clit. the pleasure builds too fast.

“say you’re sorry for touching yourself while i was gone.”

“i’m sorry, mommy— fuck— i’m sorry i was a bad girl, i just missed you—”

“and?”

“and i wanted to cum thinking about you. wanted to fill myself up and pretend it was you—“ you gasp.

“mm. dirty little slut.”

“your slut— i’m yours, please—”

she hums, low and pleased, and finally presses down hard.

you scream.

“cum for me, angel.”

you do. instantly. hips jerking, thighs clenching, voice breaking as the orgasm crashes down and the toy slips out of you with a messy, wet sound. you’re panting. ruined. crying into the sheets.

and then you feel her again. weight shifting on the bed and palm sliding down your spine. slower this time.

“look at this mess. all this for me.” she mumbles, palm sliding down the curve of your ass. 

you tremble, cheek still pressed to the mattress. “all for you…”

her fingers curl around your chin and gently tilt your head. you blink up at her and your breath catches. she’s fully bare now, blouse tossed aside and skin glowing soft gold in the light. her eyes are dark and hungry.

“flip.” she says softly, and you do — letting her flip you onto your back.

“so pretty.” she says, almost to herself.

she leans in close, hand cradling your jaw now. her thumb traces your bottom lip once.

“open wider.” 

you do. tongue out, needy, eyes fluttering. she spits in your mouth and your hips twitch helplessly as you moan around it before you even swallow.

“dirty little thing.” she breathes.

then she shifts, pressing forward until her thigh slides between yours.

you both gasp at the first grind. her pussy glides over yours, swollen and wet. your legs fall open instinctively like you’ve been waiting for this.

“mommy—”

“shh. you’ve had your fun. now be good and let me use you.” she hushes, rolling her hips.

your head falls back. “fuck— yes, please—”

the friction’s dizzying. every drag of her cunt against yours makes you clench and makes her moan.

your hands find her chest and you cup her breasts gently, fingers rubbing her nipples in lazy circles.

“you’re so pretty like this. so fucking hot—“ you whisper, eyes hazy.

her hand wraps around your throat again.

“don’t stop touching me.” she moans, voice shaky.

you don’t. you tweak and roll her nipples as your hips meet hers in rhythm. she grinds down harder now, chasing it. her moans get higher and more desperate.

“fuck, baby— you feel that? see how good you make me feel?” she pants.

you nod. “yes, mommy. fuck, i love it—”

“say you’re mine.”

“i’m yours. i’m all yours, mommy—”

her hand tightens just slightly, her body trembles, and she cums. a soft broken cry leaves her lips as her hips stutter against yours

you follow again seconds later, second orgasm crashing through you as you cling to her. 

neither of you speak at first. there’s only the sound of your breathing, the hum of the city beyond the windows, and the faint creak of the mattress as she shifts just slightly, enough to nuzzle into your neck.

you stay tangled like that for a while. skin hot, chest rising and falling against yours.

eventually she exhales. it’s soft. almost a laugh.

“you’re crazy.” she murmurs, voice still a little shaky.

“you started it.”

“you broke the rules.”

“you always forgive me.”

“do i?”

you turn your head and finally meet her gaze. ”you let me cum twice.”

“mm. weak spot.” she admits, brushing her nose against your cheek.

you smile, tired and real. “don’t go back to work yet.”

“you’re lucky i missed you.” she murmurs against your jaw.

“lucky you’re obsessed with me.” you respond.

she pinches your side and you yelp. then she kisses your jaw.

“can we go shopping now?”

“mm. ten minutes.”

taglist — @saysirhc @m00nqvv @yuyuy90

[whateveriwant]

The 141 being freaky in bed

18+ only. GN!Reader.

I’ll be honest, most of the time I headcanon the guys as pretty vanilla in the bedroom, but I do think they have a few instances where they’ll embrace their nasty freak tendencies.

Ghost

This man is such a freak in his day to day life that, comparatively, I don’t think he’s very freaky in the bedroom

That being said, one thing he does really enjoy is degradation. Things like making you hump his boot while he yawns boredly or leaning against the headboard as you ride him, crossing his arms behind his head, tutting as he mocks, “Y’ call that puttin’ your back into it?” (But he never lets you embarrass yourself for too long before he’s flipping you onto your back to show you how to really fuck)

In a similar vein, he loves to talk to your genitals like they’re their own person, e.g. “Is this needy cunt/cock desperate for me? She’s/He’s drippin’ like she/he is. Tsk, poor thing.” Sometimes he pretends like you’re not even in the room with him – that it’s just him and your holes he can’t wait to stuff

He’s also a big fan of spit play. Whether it’s spitting on your groin as he stares you deep in the eyes or spitting in your mouth while he pries your jaw open, letting out a string of cigarette-flavored drool. He uses it almost like a stake of ownership, not unlike when someone licks their food to stop others from stealing a bite

Above all else though, he likes having control. There’s the usual things like deciding the pace, the position, and so on when you fuck, but then there’s other things he also takes upon himself. Things like carrying you to/from the bed, stripping/dressing you like a doll, bathing you, shaving you. Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry.

Freak-o-meter rating: 3.8/10

Gaz

Don’t let his boy-next-door looks fool you. This man is more than capable of getting down and freaky when he wants to

For example, he’s a deviant for public sex. Doesn’t matter if it’s in the backseat of the car in a packed parking lot, in the bathroom at your family get-together, or even in the stuffy janitor’s closet at base when there’s a meeting happening right next door. For him, the riskier the sex, the better

He also loves to mark you up. Whether it’s a small love bite on your chest or a hand shaped bruise on your ass, he lives for seeing his marks on your skin. But one thing to note – those marks are for his eyes only. Don’t be going around showing them off to everyone. And also, don’t worry about them ever fading. He’ll make sure to apply new ones before the old ones can disappear

Now, some might consider this cheesy, but he really enjoys roleplaying in the bedroom. It can be as subtle as a single word huffed in your ear or it can be as extensive as a stage production – complete with costumes, props, and plot. By far, one of his favorite scenarios to play is the injured soldier being “tended to” by his slutty nurse

Building off that last point, not only is my man a bit of an actor, but he’s also a director because he loves to film you two having sex (Martin Scorsese, eat your heart out). His POV is his preferred angle to film from because it puts him right back in the moment when he watches it again, but really, any angle where he can watch you come apart on his cock is grade-A wank material for him

Freak-o-meter rating: 5.1/10

Price

I think of him almost like a sleeper cell freak. Most of the time he goes about his business very mild and vanilla, but then something will set him off and then all of a sudden he’s going full blown freak

While he is first and foremost a man of obtaining consent, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy a little free use when you permit. Especially if he’s had a long day at work or if he’s just finished a tough mission, having you ready and willing to take him whenever he wants is precisely what he needs to wind down

Say it with me, folks: creampies, creampies, creampies. To him, there’s nothing better in this world than stuffing a nice tight hole full of cum. He loves to dump multiple loads in you and then have you hold it, before pushing it all out in one thick glob. Bonus points if he shoves it back in with his fingers so you can do it over and over again

One nasty habit he has is taking your cum-stained underwear with him whenever he’s away for work. So when he misses you or needs a reminder of home, he holds it up to his nose (or cock) and remembers what he’s got waiting for him. (By the time he gives them back to you, those drawers are so stiff they can stand on their own)

As you’ve probably already guessed, this man has a big scent kink. When you come home after the gym or after doing a double at work, he loves to bury his face in your chest, pits, crotch, etc. and just inhale. That natural tang of your sweat is an aphrodisiac like no other to him. It very much gives Napoleon telling Josephine not to bathe before he returns from war

Freak-o-meter rating: 6.8/10

Soap

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again. This man is a capital-F Freeeeeak!

Foot fetish, ‘nuff said. He likes to admire your feet, pamper them, massage them, kiss them, put his cock between them and fuck them, etc etc. Once, when he was really down bad, he had you don a pair of strappy heels and stomp on him (best night of his life if you ask him)

As long as he can remember, he’s liked to play with his food, and the bedroom is no exception to that practice. Whether it’s feeding you sensual staples like strawberries and champagne or drizzling his cock in chocolate syrup and having you suck it off, he’s not one to shy away from mixing food with sex

However, one kink he does get a little nervous about sharing is his interest in pet play – him being the pet, that is. It’s not that he has any real shame in it, but more so he never knows how the other person will react when he brings it up. If that is something that interests you though, he’ll be absolutely thrilled. There’s nothing he’d like more than to be led around on a leash by you. (And might I say, he looks great on his knees)

But by far, without a doubt the number one thing that gets his rocks off is group sex. There’s just something about getting to share in multiple people’s pleasure simultaneously that excites him beyond comparison. So whether it’s cucking, partner swapping, an orgy, etc. he’s down for it. He’s truly the inspiration for the phrase “guys literally only want one thing and it’s fucking disgusting”

Freak-o-meter rating: 9.99999/10

[weiweific]

jaemin fic recs .₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

ok hello hello this is just a list of my fave jaemin fics in no particular order!

(m) smut | (f) fluff

one shot

i love hot nerds by @domjaehyun | m | 8.7k college au, perverted and nerdy shy boys jaemin & haechan author summary: when your professor pairs you with the two smartest students in your class for a group project, you find yourself making an interesting deal with them. or, alternatively: the one where you have to help two nerds learn to get girls so you can pass your class.

just so you know by @sluttyten | m | 20.9k friends to lovers, poly mmf with jeno and jaemin author summary: you’re kinda with jeno, but when you realize his best friend jaemin is in love with you too, well it complicates things

angel baby by @neopuppy | m | 8k alpha/omega dynamics, pregnant y/n, neighbour jaemin cookie jar by @neopuppy | m | 7k dubcon, stuck in dryer au, jeno & jaemin stepbrothers stepcest

this untitled jaemin oneshot by @haetrack | m | 6.4k pwp, inexperienced y/n

diet pepsi by @mochidoie | f | 10k flirty jaemin, the tensionnnn author summary: Accidentally walking in on your best friend’s hot housemate half naked with a towel around his waist in the bathroom was never in your plans. But maybe, it was in his?

persimmon problems by @starsstuddedsky | f | 18.3k uni/college au author summary: fantasy crushes are all fun and games until it stops being a fantasy and he’s really talking to you. but what are you supposed to do when he invades every part of your life?

hush, hush by @domjaehyun | m | 19.5k foursome ft. jeno, haechan & jaemin

besties (gone sexual) by @tyonfs | m | 43.4k college au, best friends to fwb to lovers author summary: na jaemin, resident playboy and serial heartbreaker on campus, thinks he might have a crush on you. this is concerning because he’s slept with your roommate before, who called him something along the lines of “a waste of a human.” another reason why this is concerning is because you happen to be jaemin’s best friend of seven years, and you know far too much about him to ever consider dating him.

stargirl interlude by @tyonfs | m | 5.9k influencer y/n, strangers to lovers author summary: and i shouldn’t cry, but I love it, starboy / i just wanna see you shine ‘cause i know you are a stargirl

j.crew by @sluttyten | m | 11.4k gangbang ft. johnny, jaehyun, jungwoo, jeno & jaemin

sniff by @guanana | m | 7k sniffing kink, pwp poly!nomin one shot by @jenosbigtoe | m lots of drabbles as well!!! linking their masterlist here

f4 by @starryhyuck | m | 4k+ slight dubcon, featuring mark, jeno, haechan and jaemin as f4 author summary: the most popular guys at school are wanted by everyone and anyone. the problem is… they only want you.

Drippin’ [Dream ‘00 line] by @ncteez '00 line x reader, mild dubcon, birthday sex author summary: “It’s too late to run away, you started this game first.”It was a joke, you swear. Sharing something like that with your group of horny man-friends was definitely a recipe for disaster. That one little tweet sets off a string of events that prevents you from pretending that you wouldn’t fuck your friends. Because you would, and they know it.  or the one where you’re considered a tease with the shit you share privately online, and they’re just about fed up with the way you act innocent and uninterested in what they’re packing. 

series

talk to my skin by @fadedncity | m | 13.8k college au, friends to lovers, fwb + pt. 2 if you let me (18.6k)

strawberry cough by @hazyhae | m | 9.1k plug!jaemin, friends/plug to lovers ahh, weed use author summary: when your longtime bestie and plug moves out of town, he recommends one of his buddies to fill your weed needs. jaemin is glad to deliver that and maybe even more. + pt. 2 sour tangie (6.3k)

quarantine chronicles by @domjaehyun | m | 3 parts | 126.7k featuring jaehyun, johnny, jungwoo, mark, haechan & jeno author summary: fourteen days, five roommates, and five remarkably high sex drives. what could go wrong?

[sevsbunny]

damn . thought of mechanic!sevika fucking you on her work table … fingertips with grease on the ends as she grips onto your thigh, she smears it over your skin

“well would you look at that…” she looks down to where her cock pushes into your cunt, covered in slick. her grip on your thighs tighten, spreading them open wider on the work table.

“slips in so easily,” she mutters as she watches it disappear into your pussy.

you missed her so you came to visit her, and you just so happened to get there right on her lunch break. you packed her something nice, and even though she already ate — she was still hungry for me

“so generous of you to come and give me my dessert, sweetheart.” she grips your hips before slithering her flesh hand up the nape of your spine and to the back of your neck bedrooms she’s cupping it and fucking her hips harder into you

“yo-you’re welcome se-sev…” you’re moaning while talking, not really able to keep up with the small talk when she’s splitting you open on her thick cock

“you jus’ spoil me, ya know that?” she frowns softly as she feels you clench around her, his grinding needlessly into you. her nails dig into the skin on the side of your neck just enough to leave a mark

“gonna have to fill you up baby. let you leave here drippin’ on your drive home.” you groan, grippin the table as you clench her in response

“oh, you’d like that huh? i’m sure baby — i’m sure this greedy pussy would love to have her boyfriends cum fucked deep inside her.” oh my god and she’s groaning against your skin as her arm comes to wrap around the front of your throat and pull you flush to her body — your back on her chest and her pants in your ear

“please sev — fuck please give it to me…” your eyes are rolling in the back of your head when she thrusts into you particularly rough, the blood rushing to your head as you feel her bicep tighten a little more when you beg

“good fuckin’ girl begging for her daddy’s cum…” she pushes you back over the table before your groaning and feeling your orgasm wash over you as she’s moaning and pumping you deep full of her cum

[miwsolovely]

—UGLY KEYCHAINS

𝜗𝜚 — in which, you go souvenir shopping with the one person that makes everything worth it.

KYLE ‘GAZ’ GARRICK x READER kyle my literal heart, kind of a practice piece , fluff all around . requested <3

It was supposed to be a quick stop.

Just a harmless little tourist trap near the marina, tucked between a gelato stand and a shop that only sold sandals. But as soon as Kyle spotted the rack of novelty postcards spinning lazily in the breeze, he turned to you with that look. The one that meant he was about to cause problems on purpose.

“Bet I can find the ugliest keychain in this entire place,” He grinned, already stepping inside.

You followed, rolling your eyes but smiling. You weren’t winning this one—and honestly, you didn’t want to.

The shop was tiny and packed to the ceiling, vibrating with color. Glass wind chimes clinked near the doorway, little bells shaped like lemons and sunflowers swayed from hooks above. The air smelled like incense and old paper, with a hint of sunblock tracked in on the breeze. Trinkets hung everywhere like memories caught in midair—ceramic miniatures, handwoven bracelets, magnets shaped like cartoon pizza slices.

It was chaos. Loud and cluttered and kitschy.

And Kyle loved every second of it. You find yourself following his sun-like smile.

He darted from shelf to shelf with boyish glee (all while holding your hand in his), picking things up just to show you, just to see you laugh.

“Okay, but hear me out—this banana-shaped pen,” He held it aloft like it was treasure. “Executive. Serious. Professional.”

You snorted. “I think if you brought that to mission briefings, Laswell would revoke your clearance.”

“That’s fair,” He said, tossing it gently back in the bin. “Still—makes a statement.”

He was in his element here—soft cotton shirt rolled to his elbows, sunglasses pushed up in his curls, that lazy summer grin that only ever seemed to come out when he was with you. His whole body spoke in laughter, in shoulders nudging yours, in hands reaching instinctively to show you something silly before you even asked.

You paused in front of a tray of rings—cheap metal, most of them, painted enamel hearts and little bands that glittered like they were dipped in sugar.

Kyle came up behind you and slid one onto your finger without asking. It was a pink, oversized thing with a plastic gemstone shaped like a cat.

“There,” He said. “Now everyone knows you’re mine.”

You looked down at it, holding up your hand like it was fine jewelry.

“So tasteful,” You said, smiling up at him. You saw a white cat on a pink ring, Kyle saw how your eyes crinkle at the edges, his toe smile drips sweet honey that he loves.

“Right?” He grinned, looping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “Drippin’ with class.”

His body was warm against yours, sun-soaked and steady. You leaned into him, letting your head rest briefly on his shoulder, eyes drifting over the shelves packed with tiny memories.

“We should get something real,” You murmured.

“Something less cat ring, more…” He trailed off, glancing around. “Meaningful?”

You nodded. “Not for the shelf. For us.”

He quieted a little at that, and you felt the shift in him—not heavy, just tender. He let go of your waist only to reach for a small wooden box tucked into a display of hand-carved trinkets. The lid was etched with curling olive branches, and when he opened it, the inside was lined with a map—faded, sepia-toned, a sketch of the town and the sea that cradled it.

“I like this one,” He said. “Feels personal.”

You ran your fingers over the smooth wood. It felt solid. Lasting.

“Yeah,” You said softly. “Me too.”

He bought it without hesitation, slipping the receipt into his back pocket and handing the bag to you like it meant something more than a keepsake. Like it meant you were here. Together.

Outside, the sun was still high and bright, the light turning his eyes into melted gold as he looked at you, wind playing in his curls. He reached for your hand without thinking, your fingers slipping into place like they were made to find each other.

“Alright,” He said, giving your hand a squeeze. “You hungry, or should we hit one more shop and find you the world’s smallest, most impractical mug?”

“I think I’d rather have the mug.”

“Attagirl.”

And so you kept walking, your footsteps side by side in the cobblestone street, the little bag swinging from your wrist, laughter curling between you like ribbon.

And maybe later, you’d forget the name of the shop, or what you had for lunch that day. But not the way he looked at you in the light. Not the warmth of his fingers brushing yours over carved wood and silly rings.

Some souvenirs didn’t need a shelf.

They lived in moments. In touch. In the way he said mine like it was the most natural word in the world.

©miwsolovely do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my to other platforms . likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3

[myhobari]

Can we get another story about Miles 🤭 where yall are engaged but then things just go down hill over a little argument because both of you feel like neither one of you are focused on the relationship due to work so you take a little break and you move out and ultimately he comes to find you and make things right because who’s leaving Miles??

- make it work

miles caton x black reader

Summary - read the request 😙

**warning** ⛔️ - SMUT SMUT SMUT

a/n: i hope you enjoy this doll, so so good.

masterlist

————————————————————————

It all kicked off with a missed dinner.

Then a call that went unanswered.

After that, you snapped at him for coming home late three nights in a row, and he shot back when you skipped out on his final press panel.

The place you used to share, which was filled with laughter and cozy Sunday mornings, suddenly felt like it was lined with closed doors.

“You’re never really here,” you exclaimed, pacing in sweats. “You’ve got your head buried in your laptop all the time!” he fired back. “What’s the difference?”

Things just spiraled from there. Not because you didn’t love each other, but life had gotten overwhelming. And neither of you knew how to cut through the chaos.

So you packed a bag. Not everything, just the essentials.

You left the ring on the nightstand—not because you wanted to end it, but because you needed some space to remember how it all started.

You moved into a quiet apartment across town. It felt temporary—bare walls, borrowed coffee mugs, and nights that stretched into silence.

You didn’t hear from him for a week.

Then another week.

Then three.

Just when you started to wonder if the space had turned into something bigger, there was a knock on your door.

Not loud. Not frantic.

But certain.

You opened it slowly, and there he was.

Hoodie pulled over his head, chain showing, looking at you like it was the first time he saw you.

“Hi,” he said, voice low.

“Miles…”

“No. Just… let me. Please.”

You moved aside.

He stepped in slowly, like he didn’t want to scare the place. Like maybe if he looked too long, you'd vanish.

“You left your ring,” he said softly.

“I didn’t want to lose it,” you replied quietly.

“You didn’t,” he said, closing the gap. “You still have me.”

Your breath caught.

He was right in front of you now, hands gently holding your face.

“I can’t stand this space,” he murmured. “I hate waking up without you. I can’t stand knowing you’re out there feeling bad and I can’t do anything about it because we’re both too stubborn to talk first.”

“Talk about what?” you asked, your voice shaky.

“That I’m sorry,” he said. “That I want this. That I never stopped wanting you. If work is getting in the way, we’ll figure it out. But please don’t give up on us.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until he kissed the tears away.

His lips were all over you.

Not rushed—just really eager.

Like he’d been craving the warmth of your skin, the sound of your voice, the way your body felt tightening around him. Like every day apart had led up to this very moment.

He dropped to his knees between your legs and looked up at you, eyes dark with something between worship and want.

“Spread ‘em for me,” he murmured, voice so low it cracked through your ribs. “Let me show you I still know exactly how to love you.”

You didn’t hesitate.

He dragged your underwear down so slowly it made your breath hitch. His hands skimmed along your hips as he leaned in, mouth brushing the inside of your thigh, placing a kiss there. And then another. Then his tongue flicked up—

You gasped, back arching.

He groaned at the taste of you, deep and low, like it grounded him. Like you were something he had to sink into to survive.

His tongue moved in slow, practiced circles, teasing that spot he knew made you twitch. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you open like a man determined not to waste a second.

“God, baby,” he mumbled against your heat, “you’re already drippin’ for me… miss this sweet little thing.”

You whined, fingers tugging at his hair, your thighs trembling as he sucked — then flicked — then sucked again.

Then two fingers slid inside you, slow and deep, curling right where you needed them.

You nearly choked on a moan.

“That’s it,” he praised, voice rough. “Let me feel you lose it. I want every single sound I missed.”

You tried to hold on.

Tried to stay quiet, stay cool, maybe drag it out — but his mouth latched onto your clit again, fingers hitting that spot over and over, and—

You shattered.

Your thighs clamped around his face, hips rolling helplessly, breath ripped from your chest as your orgasm hit fast and hard.

He held you through it, mouth never breaking contact, like he wanted your taste on his tongue forever.

By the time he crawled over you, you were shaking, skin flushed, pupils blown.

“Need you,” you whispered, voice hoarse. “Right now.”

He didn’t make you say it twice.

He stripped out of his sweats in one smooth motion — revealing every inch you’d missed — and leaned in, nose brushing yours.

“Look at me.”

You did.

You always would.

He slid in slow. Deep. Letting every inch stretch you, fill you, melt into you like he was meant to live there.

You moaned — loud, wanton — and he kissed you hard.

The pace started gentle. Deep rolls. Long strokes. His hands holding your waist, his mouth against your throat. Then—

You clenched around him just right, and he growled.

“You tryna make me lose it already?”

“You can,” you whispered. “I’m yours.”

And that was it.

He snapped.

Picked up the pace — hips slamming into you, skin on skin, the couch creaking beneath you. Your breath stuttered, moans spilling freely now as he took what had always been his.

“You feel that?” he gritted. “That’s how you’re supposed to be loved. Like this. Deep. Safe. Mine.”

He grabbed your leg, threw it over his shoulder, and hit even deeper. You damn near screamed.

“Miles—!”

“Say it.”

“Yours—God—I’m yours.”

He leaned down, kissed you hard, teeth grazing your bottom lip. His rhythm stuttered.

“You close?” he breathed, voice wrecked.

“So close—don’t stop!”

“Good,” he moaned, thrusts rough now. “Wanna feel you cum on me. Give it to me, baby.”

You cried out, nails digging into his back as you came hard again — tighter, hotter, your whole body pulsing.

That did it.

He hissed your name, hips slamming in once more, deep and perfect, before groaning through his release — eyes locked on you, like even in bliss, you were all he saw.

When he collapsed over you, both of you slick with sweat and breathless, he didn’t move right away.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered.

You looked at him, heart full.

“Only if you put your ring back on, too.”

He reached into his pocket without a word.

And slipped it back where it always belonged.

—

i hope this was to your taste love!

love you guys, muah! 💋

[burntsaltsblog]

happy monday <3

mdni// smut under the cut

“daddy, please,” i begged.

“no. you’ll take what i fuckin’ give you, yeah?” he grunted, emphasizing each word with a harsh thrust.

we had been going at it for hours, but i had yet to come.

it had all started when i began mouthing off to him during a meeting with the rest of the team earlier that evening. butcher hadn’t taken well to being talked back to and promptly hauled me into our shared room.

he waisted no time in yanking me over his knee and pulling down my jeans. i immediately regretted not wearing any panties that day.

butcher spanked me until my skin was raw, throbbing, and red. “y’know this is what happens when you act like a fuckin’ brat. talkin’ back to daddy in front of everyone. you asked for this, sweetheart.”

tears soaked my face, but that didn’t stop him from tugging off the rest of my clothes and positioning me so my face was buried in the bed, but my welted ass was presented high in the air.

butcher quickly entered me from behind and began a punishing pace. his hips grazed the sensitive skin of my ass every time he bottomed out, causing me to whimper loudly and clench around him.

my orgasm approached quickly, but just as i reached the brink of it, butcher pulled out, refusing to offer me the relief i so desperately craved.

“no, please,” i whined, pushing my hips back, attempting to draw the thick head of his cock back into my sopping cunt. but it only earned me a harsh slap on my ass.

“no,” he said sternly. “you’re not coming tonight. and if ya’ keep complaining, you won’t be coming for the rest of the week either.”

“but, daddy-”

“nuh uh, love. y’know you earned this punishment, so be a good girl and let daddy fuck this drippin’ cunt until he’s satisfied.”

butcher finally entered me again, and i appreciated the momentary bliss as he resumed fucking me. his hands gripped my hips, angling me to his precise liking.

but every time my pussy squeezed him especially tight, signaling that i was about to come, butcher immediately withdrew his cock and refused to touch me at all.

we continued at this game of me begging for release and him denying me over and over again until my voice was horse and my eyes burned from crying.

just as my legs began to give out, butcher’s cock twitched inside me, and i felt hot spurts of his seed coating my stretched walls.

both of our moans filled the air as he draped his body over mine, breathing deeply for several moments before he straightened and gently pulled out of my drooling cunt.

“oh, look at that,” he murmured, examining the mess i had made. my arousal thickly coated my ass, legs and even the bed.

“what a needy, little cunt, huh?”

butcher used two fingers to trace the outline of my inflamed pussy, causing me to mewl.

“i know, doll, i know ya’ need it so bad. but this is the only way you’re going to learn.”

the bed creaked as butcher eased off of it, and i didn’t miss the distinct noise of him buckling his belt as he redressed himself.

i slowly curled up into a ball and watched as butcher sat on the rickety chair by the bed and pulled out a pack of cigs from his pocket, lighting one as he studied my deprived form.

“maybe next time you’ll be a good girl and won’t talk back, eh?” he said, inhaling the fumes of the cigarette.

my only answer was a pout as fresh tears streamed down my face and my helpless hole clenched around nothing.

[divisionull]

Ironically, the nastiest one often gets all the nice stuff.

Contents in this post are mostly copied from the post in March. I have packed various things that I thought some people would be interested in. However, it seemed to be seen by fewer people than usual, and I'm feeling shocked. That's why I decided to remake the post. I'm sorry and appreciative for those who already read the former post. The former post is now just hidden for visibility of my blog. To whoever read this for the first time, I'm glad to reach you finally.

Put the mumbo-jumbo aside, let's start one-shot manga‬. I forgot to put the title and panel numbers. Please follow "how to read" below. I hope you enjoy.

You can read Japanese version at pixiv. The post contains several old works too.

The pixiv link☟

👌⚐☠✝‪💧‬ (can you read?)

Thank you for reading!

(Edit): Translation and explanation are bottom of this post!

☝︎Lil' keychain I made. His left eye glows in UV light of 365nm wave length.

☜Gaster10®️ and Gaster (temporary appearance)☞

There's medicine for gastric discomfort, "Gaster10" in Japan. It's registered as a trademark in real life!

By the way, I made this to match with upcoming official capsule toys!

I'll get them asap when it's available at an off-line shop (it'll be near the end of May)☟

I wonder if anyone want my hand made key chain... I'm selling the few items at the lowest price setting. I actually wanted to set it ¥0. However, this is the only shop I know, which has a system that allows me, just an amateur dealer to send items overseas safely and firmly.

The shop link☟

...And more bonus?

☝︎Parody of WORLDWID3 by Femtanyl

☝︎Parody of DINNER! by Femtanyl

☝︎feat. Horrortale. Tastes different?

☝︎A piece of the recent dream. They're sippin' and drippin'. I realized that inside my head, I tend to set up tea parties of two characters from different fandoms whom I find some points in common.

☝︎What if the joker was twin? There are often two jokers in a set of cards. I came up with the red's name Jugel(Juker + Angel + Juggle).

☝︎I gave up drawing the car and so on. I tried to do parody of Paisley Park of jjba I guess.

☝︎Is he even good at baking pi, I mean pie? The answer is quantized for now or forever!?

☝︎It's the post of over an year ago. I've drawn 1-3 episodes of manga so far(idk if I can draw sequence, though). You should check it too if you haven't read it yet☺︎

-------------------‐------------

(edit):

Wingdings translation of bonus pages(to be exact, all letters are actually uppercase):

"Scrapped file

I used DTM as the catalyst to synthesize those two reagents.

One of them worked as the old saying that dust and remains still keep their memories in their lifetime.

The reagent regenerated the body from the corpse.

It was very true to life.

Except one part.

It moves but never alive.

SOULLESS"

Additional explanation of the main story and "scrapped file":

I tried to blend canon facts and my fanon thoughts, so it's kinda confusing. However, I strongly believe you already know UT world well, so you won't mix up them.

You saw he used two types of reagents to accomplish two different goals. They were both synthesized by Gaster. DTM(determination) was used as the catalyst of this reaction. Canonically, DTM can be got from the extractor(huge goat-skull like shape in my opinion) placed in true lab.

The transparent reagent is for initialization. It deals with the memories of the body part in their lifetime. Let's look into canon situations. It seems that Asriel's dust somehow gave the first yellow flower his memory and consciousness. His dust was scattered over the first yellow flower. (And indeed, there's traditional way to mourn for the dead by doing like this amomg monsters of the underground.) Then, the flower was applied DTM by Alphys long after. It results in birthing of Flowey. Back to the main topic, the clear reagent resolves and removes this kind of remaining memories so the body part belongs to no one.

The next is black reagent. It simply regenerate the body part. It enables to generate meat infinitely. However, once it's dropped on the body part before using the clear reagent of initialization, it will reform the figure of the owner's lifetime, which is soulless. So now, you can see why it must be initialized first.

I heard the opinion of using them for medical purposes. Well, can't we imagine he already has another better techs to help people in belief of him being a supremacy of knowledge? It's important to remember that the subject is not to find medical methods, but just to make use of the experimental by-products. In the end of this main story, he suggested new way to interment dead which couldn't turn into dust normally and to serve foods at really cheap cost. Actually, I came up with producing slimy initialized meats from the song "meat factory" and bucket full of slime found in Alphys lab during the gameplay(is it Amalgams' food?)

I also inserted some might-be suggestive things in the story because I was raring to draw weirdly. Why don't you kill time finding them? Welp, no one is so free to spend time for it… And no one's even reading such ridiculously written explanation… Wait, aren't you?

[daisyblog]

Happy Birthday Jacob

Unexpected Love Masterlist Summary: Jacob celebrates his 9th birthday at LOT Wembley night 4.

With permission from YN and Jack, Harry had planned and organised a surprise for Jacob to come out on stage for everyone to sing happy birthday to him at the last Wembley show.

Harry had just finished performing As It Was with Jacob opening the song instead of his prerecorded version.

“Wembley it has been an absolute pleasure to spend the evening with you tonight…we have one more song to sing but before that…today is a special someone’s birthday…Jacob come out here”. Harry waved him over to the stage, once Jacob was standing next to Harry, he continued. “Today is Jacob’s ninth birthday…and this amazing lad has been in my life for nearly four years and it’s been a pleasure…so Wembley can we please sing for Jacob three..two..one..Happy Birthday…”.

The whole stadium began to sing as loud as they could “to you…happy birthday to you…happy birthday dear Jacob…happy birthday to you!”.

Once the cheering began to quieten and Jacob saying ‘thank you’ to the crowd, Harry spoke into his microphone again. “One of Jacob’s favourite songs is Kiwi and I’d like to share the stage with this wonderful little boy”.

The beginning of Kiwi started to play, and Jacob now held his own microphone as he prepared to sing with Harry.

“She worked her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes…Hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect…And all the boys, they were saying they were into it…Such a pretty face on a pretty neck”. They both sung into their mics, both enjoying the moment that they had been waiting for.

“I'm having your baby""It's none of your business…I'm having your baby…It's none of your business…I'm having your baby…It's none of your business…I'm having your baby…It's none of your, it's none of your-“.

“Ow!”. Jacob sang.

Harry and Jacob carried on singing and dancing around the stage together, both wearing a beaming smile.

“She sits beside me like a silhouette…Hard candy drippin' on me till my feet are wet…And now she's all over me, it's like I paid for it…It's like I paid for it, I'm gonna pay for this”.

They shared a knowing smirk, as they both knew how the song was going to end. “Having your baby…It's none of your business…Having your baby…It's none of your business…It's none of your, none of your-“.

“Hey!…my mum said she’s having his baby!”.

---

ynflorist

liked by annetwist, zara_ and 8,762 others

ynflorist I’m having his baby 👶🏼 🥝 🤍 View all 1,324 comments

annetwist I’m over the moon for you👶🏼❤️ ⌞ynflorist ❤️ ⌞harryfan6 Anne’s going to be a nanny🥹

zara_ Eeeeek! So excited😆Congratulations again to you, Harry and Jakey❤️

gemmastyles🤰🏼🥹❤️

jonnyharvey93 This baby only exists because of me😉only joking! A huge congratulations to my best friends❤️

mitchrowland Congrats guys!

benselleymusic Congratulations both! So happy for you x

elladeannemurray I'm so excited!! Thea can't wait for her new cousin x

matty_selley A huge congratulations to you both! Amazing news ❤️

harryfan3 Jacob announcing it at Wembley was the cutest🩵

harryfan4 this means we get more dadrry😍

Taglist:

@ell0ra-br3kk3r @vikiii07-blog @sleutherclaw

[misstiramisssu]

So THIS SONG has been living rent free in my head for the last few days. The start of the interlude has some iconic pronunciation. See: Since 1993... (you'll have to listen to the song for the rest of it, heh)

I've been dropping it conversations. It encapsulates something I love in music: Playing with how syllables are stressed, how this changes the meaning of a phrase, how it relates to other parts of the song... and also genuine silliness and having a good time.

Lyrics (Also below the cut)

[Intro: Buddy] Ayy These motherfuckers, man, yo (Elite, Elite, Elite) Check it Yo, check it out, ayy

[Interlude: Buddy] Since 1993 I've been smoking weed, ask about me Niggas know not to, oh, wait Niggas know not, oh, fuck, ayy

[Chorus: Smino] Roll up and pour me a drink up, let's get fucked up Roll up and pour me a drink up, let's get fucked up Roll up and pour me a drink up, let's get fucked up Roll up

[Verse 1: Smino] Uh, I'm drunk at a party and put down my cup The fuck is my water? I pick the shit up Then drink out the water and threw the shit up It's ash in my cup, I'm mad as a muh', huh I push pack like USPS, you is a bitch

[Interlude: Buddy] Ayy, yo, yo, shut the fuck, ayy Don't even rap, nigga, you Ayy, hold on Hold the fuck up, nigga See rap shows near New York Get tickets as low as $37 You might also like Lucifer Eminem & Sly Pyper Antichrist Eminem LOST FOREVER Travis Scott [Verse 2: Cozz] Tell me why you wanna come get high tonight I only got one reason, I'm top dog tonight I let the broads borrow my room and I got caught tonight Drunken partying, slobbering, 'nother sloppy night Always fight with my mama, but look, I'm Ali, night I'll call her, when I'm a baller, I promise that I'ma spoil you Until then, I'ma ignore you, it's nothing personal (Sorry) I'm just tryna fuck a couple girls and go Can't do that while I'm on the phone I'm not a mother's boy, I'm a motherfucker

[Interlude: Buddy & Smino] Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy, hold on, hold on, nigga Can I smoke? Can I smoke? Can I smoke, nigga? (Oh-oh-oh-oh)

[Chorus: Smino] Roll up and pour me a drink up, let's get fucked up Roll up and pour me a drink up, let's get fucked up Roll up and pour me a drink up, let's get fucked up Roll up

[Verse 3: Doctur Dot] Yeah Sittin' sideways, side steppin' side bitches Side eyes, light skin, need stitches, mind your business I'm slurring my verbiage, surfing, no turfing My girl drippin', dirty whispers in my ear I don't mumble ABC your way up out the convo Lookin' for sluts, oh? I know a couple [Interlude: Buddy & Smino] Bro, bro, bro, bro Ayy, bro, bro, bro, bro Ayy, nigga, come on, like Nigga, stop rapping, start passing (Oh-oh-oh-oh) Like can I? My nigga

[Chorus: Smino & Buddy] Roll up and pour me a drink up, let's get fucked up (Bro, bro) Roll up and pour me a drink up, let's get fucked up Roll up and pour me a drink up, let's get fucked up Roll up

[Verse 4: JID] Look, okay the weed so strong it got me stressed The stress so strong it got me weed (Yeah) I'm so on, it threw me off (Yeah) I'm throwed off, yes indeed I threw up after my threesome On my threads, had to leave the crime scene like criminals do She wanna come to my crib and give me a genital smooch Typical, typical, get the piccolo, skididdle, skedaddle I sling peen like a lasso That mean king save the queen from the castle I grab the saddle Prisoner to prescription, it's changed, jackal, Jack Daniels Shawty tryna tell me [Interlude: Buddy] Motherfucker, ayy, didn't I say? Nigga, ayy We can't rap, nigga, we smoking weed Stop rappin', nigga, this is not a rap session We gettin' high

[Verse 5: J. Cole] If I smoke a blunt right now I'ma be on 285 with my pants pulled down around my ankles Still no stranger to the blunt smoke, gun smoke You niggas don't want smoke No guts like that Swisher we just smoked We cutthroat, niggas ain't…

[Outro: Buddy] Hold, hold on, hold on Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait Hold on, wait, wait, wait, wait, ayy, wait Shh, shh, shh Wait, wait, wait, okay Watson, Watson, stop 'Cause this nigga J. Cole, he done grew some dreads He think he smoke now Pass the blunt, nigga, stop rappin' That's the end of the song, nigga This the end of the session, we goin' home I just called my Lyft I just wanna call the, I mean hit the blunt, I mean Let me try one more time

[heart-full-of-lust]

The Somnophile of Blackpine Hollow

Chapter 1: The Wet Dream Epidemic Blackpine Hollow, 11:47 PM

The town doesn’t just sleep—it suffocates under its own silence. You roll into Main Street past midnight, your ’98 Corolla coughing up exhaust that mingles with the fog clinging to the pines. Blackpine’s buildings sag like rotten teeth: a shuttered diner with “GO HOME” spray-painted across its boarded windows, a gas station selling live bait and VHS porn, a lone streetlamp buzzing like a dying wasp. You’re here for the Sleeping Satyr—a tabloid cryptid story your editor called “niche erotica for Bigfoot fuckers.” But the bartender at The Stag’s Head stares at your voice recorder like it’s a gun.

“Ain’t talkin’ ‘less you buy a round,” he grunts, his eyes darting to your chest. You order whiskey, neat, and unbutton your flannel just enough to show the lace edge of your black bralette. His tongue loosens with the third pour. “First was Maryann Kellogg. Woke up with her nightgown ripped clean off, thighs black an’ blue like she’d been rode by a tractor. Feathers in her hair—black ones. Then Lucy Harte. Found her in the churchyard, ass in the air, babblin’ ‘bout antlers. Pussy swollen shut. Had to drive her to the ER in Bakersfield.” He leans in, reeking of menthols and dread. “They all say the same thing—somethin’ pinned ‘em down, stuffed ‘em full, left ‘em drippin’.”

You’re half-hard writing the draft in your motel room—Room 6, “The Lovers’ Nest,” according to the peeling sign. The carpet smells like mildew and condoms. You set up your gear: a Nikon with night vision, motion sensors, a .38 revolver you bought off a methhead in Pasadena. You slip into your “research uniform”—a red lace nightie you’d never admit you packed—and smear gloss over your smirk in the bathroom mirror. Clickbait writes itself, you think. “I Hunted the Sex Demon Haunting Appalachia—Then It Fucked Me.”

The first noise comes at 3:14 AM—a scrape of claw on windowpane. You pretend to sleep, breath shallow, hand under the pillow gripping the .38. The air turns thick, sweet-rotten, like honeysuckle choking a carcass. Your nipples peak under the lace. It’s just the AC, you lie, but then the mattress dips. A weight settles over you—not human, not beast. Fur brushes your inner thigh, coarse yet electric, and you feel heat radiating from something… grotesquely erect.

“Shhhhh,” it purrs, a voice like oiled hinges. A clawed paw clamps your wrist, pinning the gun to the nightstand. You try to scream, but your body betrays you—lips parting in a moan as a second paw spreads your legs. The thing sniffs you, wet and guttural, its snout nudging your clit through damp lace. “Pretty little liar,” it rumbles. “You wanted me to come.”

You’re frozen, caught between terror and dizzying arousal, as it shreds the nightie with a talon. Its cock—fuck, it’s ridged, knotted, dripping viscous fluid that burns cold against your thigh—prods your entrance. “N-No—” you choke, but it thrusts inside with one brutal snap of its hips. You’re split, stretched, tears streaming as it growls, “Dream. This is a dream.” And somehow, your traitorous body obeys, hips bucking, cunt fluttering around its monstrous girth. It fucks you like it’s carving its name into your womb, your screams muffled by the pillow it shoves over your face.

When you wake at dawn, there’s no blood. No proof. Just sticky thighs, a torn nightie, and the gun still loaded on the nightstand. But as you stagger to the shower, something clatters to the tiles—a jagged shard of antler, obsidian-black and thrumming with warmth. Outside your door, the motel clerk leers, eyeing your limp. “Y’all… enjoy your stay?” he drawls.

You slam the door, press the antler to your nose, and inhale musk that makes your cunt pulse. That night, you leave the gun in the glovebox. Pack a vibrator instead. (should I continue?)

[babynicholas1992]

JACK RETURNS with the ICEDEVIL pt2

❄️ JACK RETURNS with the ICEDEVIL ❄️ | Snow Bros Anthem (Extended Cut)

They thought winter was over.

They thought wrong.

The IceDevil rises from the ashes, fused with the frostbitten soul of Jack Frost himself. This is no jingle bells joyride—this is the Snow Bros Resurrection, where frozen vengeance meets legendary wrath.

🔥 Blood on the ice.

💀 Fire in the sky.

⚡ A storm unlike anything before.

Witness the cold comeback that shatters hellfire and silence alike. This is Jack Returns with the ICEDEVIL—a myth reborn, a monster evolved.

❄️ JACK RETURNS with the ICEDEVIL ❄️

Written and performed by TheIceDevil92

(Snow Bros Anthem – Extended Cut)

Verse 1 IceDevil as Jack

They said he melted buried in flame

But I rose from slush with a bloodstained name

Winters wrath with a jagged grin,

I don’t bring gifts I bring the end.

Scarf soaked red knife in mitt

I slit through throats with holiday grit.

Frostbite soul coalblack eyes

I dont jingle I justify cries

Chorus Hook Style

Jack’s back, colder than sin

Snowstorm heart with a devilish grin

Step too close, youll freeze in fear

When Jack returns, death draws near

Verse 2 IceDevil

I ain’t Frosty bitch Im a blizzard beast

Chillin' your bones while I feast on the weak.

Carrot’s crooked, grins carved wide

Built from hate and homicide.

Each flake a whisper, each gust a scream,

Your silent night? Just a dying dream.

Icicle fingers, sleigh bells toll

Welcome to the North Pole's black soul.

Verse 3 Snow Bros Add-On: “Pissed Off Snow Cone

The world’s a pissed-off snow cone, drippin’ with rage,

Flavor of fury, trapped in a frozen cage.

You make me feel invincible, storm in my chest,

Ice veins pumpin’—ain’t no need for a vest.

Sleet in my soul, I was born in a freeze,

Speak in avalanches, bring gods to their knees.

Jack’s got the grin, I bring the bite,

Together we’re the blizzard that ends the night.

Verse 4 – IceDevil Horror Build

I laugh in the frost, crackle like flame,

Spittin’ black snow with a devil’s name.

Snow globes shake when I stomp through towns,

Kids go missing when I come around.

I write my legacy in icicle scars,

Carve my throne from shattered stars.

Forget the season, forget the cheer—

This snowstorm ends your fuckin’ year.

Verse 5 Jack Possessed Flow

Risen from slumber with coal in my chest,

Vengeance packed in a frozen vest.

I ain’t no myth, I’m your midnight scream,

With murder in my sleigh and death in my dream.

Sick of the songs, sick of the bells,

I brought a new carol straight outta hell.

IceDevil beside me, two kings of snow—

We melt your gods with a single blow.

Bridge – Whispered/Echoed Dual Voice

Do you hear the crunch of frozen bones?

We laugh through blizzards, on frostbitten thrones.

You prayed for winter, now winter prays back

IceDevil and Jack, on a murder-packed track.

Final Chorus Explosive Style

Jacks back with IceDevil lit

Two frozen tyrants that don’t ever quit.

Twist the snow into blades and screams,

Welcome to the land of shattered dreams.

No gifts, no cheer, just cold despair—

Snow Bros ride and death fills the air.

Verse 6 IceDevil Frozen Execution Flow

I came from the black ice where angels drown,

Where snow turns red and the silence is loud.

I sharpen blizzards, carve names in wind,

If death had a church—I’d preach and grin.

I ain’t your savior, I’m the snowman’s sin,

I gut through legends, wear their skin.

Jack lit the fire, but I brought the freeze—

You’ll beg for summer on shattered knees.

Just know your dream is a murderous dream,

Your life’s a shamble, torn at the seams.

Your brain’s scrambled, lost in the swirl I dont play nice I don’t come clean

I’m the frostbite shadow behind every screams.

🎧 Stream it. Fear it. Worship it.

#IceDevil #JackReturns #SnowBrosAnthem #DarkWinter #FrostbiteLegacy #HorrorRap #MythBornAgain #FrozenVengeance #NyxxaApproved #NicholasAaronIce

#WorldsPissedOffSnowCone

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#youtuberlife

[bit3mark-butch]

go to werewolf fantasy is I'm camping. it's night and I need to relax for bed.... I start to touch myself. a werewolf is lured by my scent.. it rips open my tent to find me, putting on a show... I also am a big fan of being taken back to be shared by the pack 😇

oh this is a good one.

camping is lovely this time of year. just starting to feel like the beginning of fall... you book a nice, secluded spot near a lake.

you needed this. some alone time to clear your head. away from your responsibilities. the day passes comfortably as you pitch the tent, gather wood for a little fire, pick blueberries, and take the downtime to read.

you packed far more blankets than strictly necessary, and you think yourself very lucky as a full moon lights your tent enough for you to easily bed down and bundle up into your pile of blankets.

in the warm comfort of your tent your thoughts turn to desire. you think about thrusting. and stroking. kissing and grabbing and holding. you throw off the blankets, already starting to get warm, and grab a little vibrator from your backpack. you take off your undergarments and press it to yourself - already so wet.

you spend the next while working yourself up - but are frustratingly unable to cum. you miss touch and fucking and holding. your head is full of frustrated desire and your hips buck against the air. your cunt screams for relief, your core on fire. but still climax does not come. you start to quietly whimper and your mouth falls open in little gasps.

a twig breaks in the clearing.....

you pause for just a second. quieting the buzzing vibrator. nothing. nothing but also probably something harmless, like a deer or possum. you listen hard for a few seconds, then start the vibe back up. rolling your hips to find relief.

a rustle.... faint. just outside of your hearing. you ignore it, all focus on the task at hand. still no relief in sight for your dripping cunt.

a harsh, tearing sound jolts you from your horny haze. your yelp of fear and dewilderment catches in your throat as a towering, furry creature looms through the hole it rent in the side of your tent.

you behold each other for what feels like an eternity, but you know can only be seconds. it is back-lit by the moon, so the details of its features are lost on you.

your heart pounds as you regard each other, too stunned to cry out, thinking that perhaps this is the kind of wild animal you ought to keep very, very still for....

the creature bends down closer to you and you try not to flinch away. they take two short steps into the tent, tearing it further as they press in. you can make out pointed ears, a long snout. fur that can be made out as shades of light and dark brown in the moonlight. in fact, you find yourself thinking the creature looks downright fluffy.

a low growl comes from them, and you feel the hair all over your body stand on end. canine. wolf. massive. you shrink back to the side of the tent and their ears prick towards you. you can see the faintest shine of their eyes as they fix on you. you, still naked and flushed. the vibrator forgotten.

strangley, they begin to... snuffle. they creep closer to you and swing their head back and forth over you. sniffing you out with rapid breaths. they're barely and inch from you, now. hovering over you. looming in a way they can't help. angling their huge head and still working nose first at your pelvis, then towards your face. their warm breath puffs over you. they give a low growl. your cunt clenches.

they're on you in an instant. you don't struggle or cry out, you just comply. nice and obedient for them. they grab your hips and pull you in closer. you're on your back underneath them. you feel a huge cock touch your stomach and swear you can feel it twitch with need. the werewolf presses their face into the crook of your neck to lick and mouth and you cry out truly for the first time. so warm, so much soft fur. such sharp canines grazing your throat... your already wet cunt is dripping. you whimpered with need in the forest and this is your answer, you'll take it gladly.

they pull back from your throat and grip your hips so hard they could bruise. they pull you in further and line up their cock with your hole. they whine and keen as they twitch their hips forward, grinding the tip of their massive cock against your hole. you gasp and whine with them at the stimulation. they grind in harder and their cock slowly begins to stretch you out.

they go slow. you can tell they're being nice about it, somehow. some shred of restraint lurks within them. with a yell of pleasure and wonderful, perfect stretch the whole things pops in, finally. the werewolf yelps in pleasure - such a lovely, tight hole. they lean down, face back against your neck. they give a primal, deep growl, right in your ear. hilted on their cock, covered and pinned by them completely, they start fucking you in earnest. a punishing pace. theyre pulling out barely an inch at a time, grinding their cock further inside you. with each thrust you yelp out - lost in the sensations, hands fisted into their fur, clinging on for dear life.

they graze their claws down your neck, bite and nibble at your ear, they growl and whine and keen in ecstasy. such a nice hole to be buried in.

you cum so hard you see stars. turns out all you really needed was to be stretched out on big fat werewolf dick. how lucky for you! you gasp and whimper beneath them, the same pace never letting up. they fuck you through your orgasm as it lights you up from the inside. as your hole clenches down they let out a long whine and lean even more of their weight down onto your cunt. your hips get angled up more and their cock reaches as deep as it can go. your post orgasm high hasn't left you yet and you whimper out pitifully as your brain fully seems to turn off. this is the fullest you've ever been, the deepest you've ever been taken. it feels so fucking good and right.

you go limp and only the cutest whimpers and fucked out breaths escape you as the werewolf ruts into its new favorite hole. they lick along your neck and wrap their arms all the way around you as they fuck all the thoughts out of your head.

you are still limp and blissed out when they pull your body up completely. they're holding you fully off the ground, wrapped tightly in their warm, soft arms. you're still speared nice and deep on their cock as they stand up and lean you fully against their chest.

you're being such a good hole. obedient and pliant. your face is pressed into the fur on their chest. your body is being almost cradled in their arms. your cunt is stuffed full of their pulsing cock, still not fully relieved.

they begin to fuck you again, holding you and moving you up and down on their cock. cockdrunk and sleepy, you lean against their chest and whimper as they take your perfect hole.

they get erratic, fucking you fast. jostling you up and down up and down on their length. you start to feel pressure building in your core again. the werewolf grips you tight, claws pricking at your back and sides. they push you down on their cock hard and cum with something that seems half whimper half howl. you feel their cum spurt deep inside you and your eyes roll back with pleasure at the warm, full feeling. they continue to fuck you on their cock like a fleshlight with stuttering jerks as they ride out their orgasm. gradually, their movements slow and they sink back to the ground, carefully setting you down, cock still buried inside you.

you both slowly come back to your senses. they start licking and sniffing you again about the face and neck. you feel their cock soften inside you and with a groan from both of you they slowly pull out.

they flop down back on top of you with a huff. you find yourself once again totally surrounded by their warmth, muscle, and fur.

a twig breaks.... the sound pulls at your sleeping mind. a weight on you shifts away.

you awake with a start and notice that the sky is beginning to turn gray with dawn. you look around in bewilderment. the werewolf. your werewolf was standing over you, a pleased look on their face. and on the edges of the clearing you could see.... how many? two? three? more of them coming into view.

before you could truly make out the newcomer werewolves your werewolf swept you off your feet and held you close to their chest again. the other werewolves approached cautiously. noses working hard, bright eyes examining you.

you all left in a group, heading back for their home. your tent and belongings all abandoned in the clearing. the others eyed you hungrily and you got the distinct feeling that these werewolves were much inclined to sharing their prey.

[foxes-that-run]

Kiwi

Kiwi has similarities to Blank Space in that it considers if something hurtful in a tabloid was true. Harry said Kiwi was one of the first songs written for the album after a rest post-1d, he described it as releasing a lot of pent up creative energy in the Behind the Music (at 15:50). To Radio 1 Harry said it 'started as a joke but now is one of his favorite songs' (at 13:43). Mine too Harry.

Kiwi music video

The girl in the flower suit in a hallway is Harry. A blonde boy at 1:05 (on the Cactus line) represents Bleachella Taylor on April 29, 2016.

The other kids start flinging words then food and eventually the Harry/TS kids get drawn in. Harry himself shows up to release dogs, remind us of Dunkirk by crawling in the food fight.

Possibly my favourite is that it ends on a class photo that the Taylor child is not in, like every time they are together. it's genius.

When was it written

MMIH, Kiwi and Sweet Creature were the first songs written for the album, in LA between February and May 2016. MMIH and Kiwi are in this photo of the album taking shape from before Harry cut his hair for Dunkirk.

There is also a video of Harry singing it with long hair in Behind the Album

Lyrics

[Verse 1] She worked her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes Hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect And all the boys, they were saying they were into it Such a pretty face on a pretty neck

Harry introduces his muse as a smart, pretty woman who smokes and drinks. He has a similar character in Daylight who does cocaine in the kitchen. Harry definitively said on Howard Stern he hates smoking, so while not literal shows Harry's muse is flawed.

[Pre-Chorus] She's driving me crazy, but I'm into it (Oh) But I'm into it (Oh), I'm kinda into it It's getting crazy, I think I'm losing it (Hey!) I think I'm losing it, oh, I think she said

Stockholm Syndrome, has similar messages of enjoying being driven crazy by a paramor.

[Chorus] "I'm having your baby" "It's none of your business"

The way Harry sings this chorus like a tabloid headline. The ‘it’s none of your business’ is directed to the media & listener. Taylor also spoke about serious impacts of these in Miss Americana and sold a parody TS tabloid version of Reputation. The parody tabloid connects that Ready for it? also refers to these, To be so lonely has the line 'I wasn't ready'.

[Verse 2] It's New York, baby, always jacked up (Hey) Holland Tunnel for a nose, it's always backed up When she's alone, she goes home to a cactus (Uh) In a black dress, she's such an actress

The start of Verse 2 links back to Harry's feelings of pent up frustration and creative energy from the year before.

Cactus is a play on words, cactus/prick/CH, however it’s also sung in a way to sound like Cat(us). In the 2015 Grammys red carpet interview Taylor says she’s "going home to the cats".

Taylor was alone, Harry was touring in Australia, the next time they were seen in the same place was the 2015 BBMAs Taylor was with a cactus.

Gorgeous also includes a line about stumbling on home to her cats alone. In May 2018, long after Kiwi was released, Toe confirmed their relationship with matching cactus photos.

[Verse 3] She sits beside me like a silhouette Hard candy drippin' on me till my feet are wet And now she's all over me, it's like I paid for it (Cha-ching!) It's like I paid for it, I'm gonna pay for this (Oh!)

In the final verse is in the aftermath, his connection with his muse is empty, like a silhouette, a reference to Two Ghosts. Ready for it? also refers to them as ghosts.

'Like I paid for it' / 'I'm gonna pay for this' are about a casual hook up with chemistry. This is a Pay for it is a theme in Harry and Taylors songs about each other (like he paid for it), but he still loves them so will emotionally pay for it. Harry uses similar language in other songs, in Grapejuice "I pay for it more than I did back then."