#Harmonizing the body and mind

[jewelsaradia]

You Are A Great Mystery

You Are A Great Mystery

I simply HAD to get out into nature today – to clear my head and come back into my center again. It feels so good to exercise now. I cleansed over the weekend and it felt so good to get a little sun 🌞 and connect with the land again after the Thanksgiving holiday.

It’s my favorite time of year here in Southern California . The contrast between shadow and light has a sharp edge. Shade has that…

[heroesculture]

#SoundBath #NYC. #harmonize #body #mind #spirit #heart #soul #artgallery #NewAgeHipHop #NewAge #HipHop #singer #emcee ##NYC https://www.instagram.com/p/BpgS6YlDZg6/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1p6z1im3pvqgj

[angelmilkdreams]

ʚ♡⃛ɞ How to connect with some of the Angels ʚ♡⃛ɞ

ʚ♡⃛ɞ Ariel - sitting in nature or taking care of plants and animals

ʚ♡⃛ɞ Asariel - sitting by the sea or bodies of water, keeping a cup of water beside or under your bed

ʚ♡⃛ɞ Azrael - helping those who are grieving

ʚ♡⃛ɞ Cassiel - sitting still, being disciplined, temperance (abstinence of any kind), resting

ʚ♡⃛ɞ Chamuel - pursuing your life purpose, retaining a peace of mind

ʚ♡⃛ɞ Gabriel - journaling and domestic activities

ʚ♡⃛ɞ Haniel - practicing Grace and sitting under the full moon

ʚ♡⃛ɞ Jeremiel - practicing forgiveness for yourself and others, releasing old life patterns

ʚ♡⃛ɞ Jophiel - decorating your environment, making art

ʚ♡⃛ɞ Metatron - working with geometry, time management (organizing, prioritizing), and helping adolescents

ʚ♡⃛ɞ Michael - sitting in the sun, practicing courage and confidence, overcoming enemies

ʚ♡⃛ɞ Raguel - harmonizing relationships and interactions with others and with yourself, relationship counseling

ʚ♡⃛ɞ Raphael - being a general healer (physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual)

ʚ♡⃛ɞ Raziel - meditating, dreaming, dream interpretation

ʚ♡⃛ɞ Samael - exercising, courage, standing up for what you believe in, growing a backbone, standing up for yourself

ʚ♡⃛ɞ Sandalphon - listening to and making music

ʚ♡⃛ɞ Uriel - studying and research, intellectual conversations and pursuits, problem solving and brainstorming

ʚ♡⃛ɞ Zadkiel - practicing compassion for yourself and others, being open minded

[diorcities]

pillow baby

paring: jeno x reader.

genre: smut.

content: boyband!jeno, unprotected sex, breeding kink.

masterlist — es ver.

the music coming from the speakers harmonized with jeno's guttural moans. they were melody to your ears. her lips brushed your ear, her warm breath hitting your cheek. “shit, don't stop moaning like that,” he whispered into your ear, as his manhood burrowed into you, expanding to accommodate you. your eyes fluttered at his movements, your head tilted back, resting on his shoulder. “ does it feels good?” you nodded fervently. “feels'o good.” his rhythmic thrusts made you see stars.

you stretched out your arms and groped the air. there was nothing to hold on to. your hands fisted the blanket under his body, but it wasn't enough. the feeling was very strong. very devastating. the knot in your belly growing, about to explode. jeno took her hands off your hips and reached for your arms. “deeper...” you mumbled, feeling overwhelmed by the music and the way his cock was touching your sweet spot.

your body spilled onto the bed when he changed position, your face buried into the mattress, feeling the heat of jeno touching your core. your legs trembled and your lips let out a whimp of surprise. it felt so good. the sound of his growls, his voice filled with pleasure, his hands holding you tight, his thrusts bringing you to a climax, destroying you inside. you wanted to have him inside you forever.

“i'm close,” he warned, and you couldn't agree more. his movements became slopier and faster. your hands went to one of his arms. the carousel of emotions was too much to bear. you were going to collapse. did you want him to stop or did you want him to ruin you? you had no problem, as long as it was like that. “jen-o,” you blurted out, on a hiccup. the knot in your stomach was thought, your legs weakened. the position was perfect for him to fasten his thrusts. each of them makes you feel shots of pleasure, expanding in waves from your core.

jeno sped up his thrusts while holding you tight. the sound of your wetness and his precum, the way he slid in and out, the way your walls pressed against his cock brought you to climax. jeno thrust one last time before you came around him. a small whimper escaped your lips, as you collapsed due to the intense orgasm.

the simple moan made him finally ejaculate, he took you by the waist, his hard grip making marks on your body, while he came inside. his warm cum coating your walls. your pussy tightening and throbbing around his cock. his thrusts slowed, feeling his seed spill deeper. he held you like this til your pussy stopped throbbing, and your breathing became less erratic. he bumped three times more pushing his seed back to your hole, then he leaned toward you and pressed a chaste kiss to the top of your head. “mhm...” you murmured.

he finally let you go. your stomach approaching the surface of the bed. you stayed still when you felt his body leave the mattress. and you were surprised when you felt his lips brush one of your buttocks. “let me clean you up,” he whispered. you gave a short nod and waited for her to finish cleaning the seed from your pussy, dripping out. he disappeared again from your reach. you rolled over to finally look at him, pulling on his jeans. you were still drunk by the arousal of feelings, but you forced yourself to be focused “don't you plan to stay?” you asked. jeno looked at you for a few seconds.

he approached and positioned himself on top of you, brushing your lips. when you thought he was going to kiss you, he pulled away and continued getting dressed. “mark's on his way,” he said. “do you want him to find us like this?” you sat up in the bed. "i wouldn't mind, would you?" jeno looked at you. "he's my best friend," he replied. “it would ruin the band. he must not know,” he added, grabbing his jean jacket and leaving the room at last.

[velvetyh]

day 21 - eric - video games

word count: 4.8k [⚠️]: blowjob, giving head under the desk, dirty talk, praising, facial, implied fem!reader, the reader is a huge tease and likes control, bad smut a/n: i am mentally prepared to get told that i don't know what I'm talking about, because i actually have no idea how to give a bj and I'm actually terrified of it lol. I know the fic is probably super bad, but i don't really see how i could make it better and i don't have the time nor the motivation to rewrite it so enjoy ig... 🤷‍♀️

kinktober masterlist 🖤 general masterlist 🖤

Laying on your bed, phone in hand opened on a shopping app, you sighed as the faint, satisfying clicking of the buttons of a controller served as background noise. Your boyfriend was sprawled on his gaming chair, elbows resting on the armchairs as he was focused on his screen. His raspy voice mumbled tactics signals to his friends, humming or groaning depending on whether he was winning or losing. 

Eric looked so fine clad in comfortable indoor clothes, a black beanie covering his head with a set of gaming headphones on top of them, lips only millimetres away from the small mic. As a mark of concentration, his bottom lip was sometimes sucked in between his teeth, brows slightly furrowed as his fingers rapidly moved on the controller, the clicking intensifying, the nervosity of the gesture making you look up.

His hands were becoming veinier and more tensed as he was clutching on his controller due to a tough situation his character was in, a sight for you to drool on. You knew it sounded really selfish, but they were your weakness, always shivering at how good they felt when they touched whatever part of your body, caressing your cheek or choking you. You couldn’t control it, pairing them up with his bulky arms and his glasses, it was the perfect combo to end you. 

Annoyance painted Eric’s bare face in a pinkish colour as his team wasn’t any near the top 10 as he started commanding his teammates through his mic. From your point of view, it looked extremely hot; you were always turned on when your boyfriend was getting mad, whether it was against you or a video game, the frown on his face and his eyes shooting angry bolts of lighting had you squeezing and rubbing your thighs together, just like you were currently doing on his bed.

To be able to focus more, Eric removed his glasses and threw them on his desk, the frame bothering him. His fingers went back on the controller even before the specs landed on the hard wooden surface. You refrained a strangled squeal when he was grunting and yelling at his friends, his Adam apple going up and down nervously as his eyes focused on the screen. Your body and mind were getting clouded by lust, needing to resist the urge to touch yourself right here on his bed, right behind him.

“Sunwoo-Hyung! Jeez, on your left!” Eric shouted and you managed to hear Sunwoo’s groan in his headset, making you smile at how serious they were taking this video game.

His sudden rise of voice had you placing your phone next to you, crawling to the far edge of the bed to get a closer look at the screen. He briefly looked to the side as you stood up, approaching the back of his chair before looking at the screen again. His tensed jawline was prominent, and, as tempting as it looked, you had to resist the urge to touch it, not wanting to disturb him and make him lose even more. You knew he was someone that could easily lose focus, so you didn’t move, not wanting to be the cause of the frown on his forehead to dig deeper.

The round was becoming so intense that you were also getting fidgety, the clicking of Eric’s fingers on the keys intensifying, harmonizing with your pounding heartbeat. The urge to whisper tactics to your boyfriend was very tempting, but you remained silent, not wanting him to shoo you away to concentrate. 

“Good job!” you mumbled through gritted teeth as he actually shot someone in a tight spot, earning his team a good number of points and new weapons. Eric slightly rose his fist in the air and looked at you, his teeth biting his bottom lip as he cockily grinned. You offered him a gentle smile before pecking the top of his head, earning a smile from him. 

“Let’s go, guys, we’re almost there,” he said as you both looked at the screen again, Eric further discussing with his friends for the rest of the game.

Sighing, you shifted and leaned your hip against his desk as you needed to shift positions, discreetly stealing his glasses. They were blue light blocking ones that you had gifted him last Christmas after he had complained to you many times that his eyes hurt after spending days on end in front of his computer, either playing video games or working on his college assignments. Since then, they never left him when he was at home, always perched on his nose, even if he wasn’t using any device. 

“I just think I look good in them,” he had muttered in your ear once as he walked into the kitchen where you were making brownies, smiling as you giggled at his choice of accessories. It kind of worked with the outfit he had chosen for the day, but it was something that you didn’t imagine him using as a fashion element. Seeing that you were getting back to baking, his smile had quickly turned into a whine and his arms had wrapped around your waist, trying to distract you from focusing your attention on something else than him. After a few attempts and persistence, he managed to get you to the couch and make you ride his thigh.

Eric anxiously hissing in his mic had your wandering mind coming back to reality, your heart running miles per hour at your memory and the sight of his in-game life going dangerously low. You smirked as you seized his glasses, quickly putting them on.

Deciding that it was the perfect opportunity to fulfil the small flower of lust that was gradually blooming within you, you dropped to your knees the following second and crawled under the desk with an idea in mind. Your boyfriend did not notice any of your actions, his knee bouncing under the desk and his legs were spread wide apart. It was his favourite position to play in, and you were glad; it was as if his subconscious approved the dirty idea that you had in mind.  

Eric nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his knee, thinking that you were still beside him, his leg immediately stopped bouncing as you gripped it on top of the fabric of his sweatpants. With a frown, Eric briefly stopped his game and looked under the table, a smirk appearing on his face. The way you were looking at him from above the frame of his specs had his heart skip a beat and blood rush to his dick.

Resting his controller on his crotch in order to shield his growing boner from your curious eyes, he gave you the perfect view of his hands and dexterous fingers rapidly playing with the buttons and joysticks. You bit back a moan as you couldn’t take your eyes off them, wishing that he was toying with your nipples instead of the controller. He had played with them many times before, and you always got a vivid physical memory each time you stared at his hands.

You kept caressing his knee, slowly aiming for his upper leg, fingers teasing him as you went higher at each caress, getting to feel his muscular inner thighs. Eric was getting fidgety and his breath was quickening, a good sign that your plan was working. 

Eric couldn’t deny it, his aim and his clicking were less precise, missing a headshot by just a millisecond. Your hands were so unpredictable and curious that it was getting hard for him to focus, mind too cloudy with dirty fantasies (that were most likely bound to happen if you kept your ministrations going) to even hear what his teammates had to say to him.

“Fuck,” Eric muttered under his breath. Thank god he didn’t moan your name along with the curse, it easily passed as frustration to have missed a shot in-game, not an upcoming dirty favour happening in between his legs.

You gently gripped his knees and applied pressure to make the chair roll slightly backwards, making yourself comfortable with your head on his lap, lovingly looking up at him. Eric was focused on the game, his team was now in a great place but still in danger, so the tension remained the same.  

“Y/N, we’re near top 5 baby, I’m almost done,” Eric mumbled after lifting his mic up in one -hot- swift motion, eyes remaining glued to the screen and following his character’s movements.

“I know how it is,” you retorted, mouth turning into a pout. “You always say that you’re almost done but then I wait for hours on end,” he looked at you for a brief instant, a soft smile growing on his lips at how in love you looked while staring up at him with a pouty look on your face.

“I promise once I’m done with that I’m all yours,” he whispered, caressing your cheek with a distracted hand, retracting it almost immediately as he had to move along with his team. “I promise I’ll fuck you nicely once I’m done,” he smirked with a wink directed to you before readjusting his headset, as well as his mic to communicate with his friends. 

Despite your heart pounding in your ribcage, his words didn’t convince you at all. Eric pressed his index on his mouth, signalling you to keep quiet, scared that his friends could hear you. You knew they were great at persuading and influencing him to play another round, then another, and another, till the sun rose again, leaving you cuddle-deprived, needy, and dry. You weren’t going to let that pass. You were horny for your boyfriend, at this exact moment, and not even his promise was going to make you change your mind.

Eric’s eyes briefly shifted down as you caressed his thighs up and down, each time going closer, his eyes almost fluttering close, but the voices in his headphones reminded him that he had to resume playing and actively talk. He was in a tough situation; he didn’t want to let his friends, or his partner down. He was stuck, he did not know what to do. 

You cockily smirked when Eric’s eyes waved at your touch, your fingers enclosing the hem of his sweatpants, your boyfriend swiftly lifting his thighs for you to pull his pants down, making them pool at his feet before helping him to kick them off.

It went unnoticed by you, but Eric slowly lifted his hoodie, letting the waistband of his boxers be the first thing you would look back at him. The shadow his boner created in his underwear vanished in the darkness of his hoodie and t-shirt underneath, making you lightly gasp as you went to caress his crotch, surprised to feel the growing tent in his boxers. 

“So pretty,” you whispered to yourself as you kept rubbing his lengthy cock on top of the fabric, looking up through your lashes to check his reaction. 

What a fucking sight. 

Eric’s bottom lip was sucked between his teeth, eyes growing with lust as he struggled to keep them open, watching them flicker in utter desire. His hands were clutching the controller, quivering fingers pressing different buttons, his confidence slowly evaporating under your touch. The veins on his forearms were becoming more prominent each second passing by, resisting the urge to feel them under your fingertips. His jaws were clenched in anticipation, apprehending every single one of your moves. 

“Relax, baby,” you mumbled as his knee started bouncing again, yet immediately stopped as you kissed the inner part of his thighs, slowly making your way to his cock. 

He heavily exhaled and blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the lust clouding his iris and focus on his game instead of you, his cock growing hard under your ministrations. He wasn’t going to last long if you kept teasing him like that.

His hips jolted when you pressed vivid kisses on the underside of his clothed cock, hand stroking his balls through the cotton before going back to his thighs that you loved to sit on. You were just obsessed with how comfortable, soft and pleasuring they could get. Eric loved to see you get off on his thigh, looking like an absolute goddess with messy hair and a fucked-out face, desperately riding your swollen clit on his flexing, strong muscles. However, seeing you on your knees right before him, a few seconds away from sucking him off, was just enough to turn his usual steady breathing into a laboured one.

You gently shifted one of the headphones off his ear for him to hear you, Eric immediately lifting his mic as you sat on his lap, leaning your chest against his, your boyfriend refraining a moan at the sensation of your boobs against him.

“Y/N, fuck. Please- do something,” he pleaded, almost out-of-breath, eyes boring into yours. You pouted, wrapping your arms around his neck, Eric quickly kissed your lips as his body relaxed for a second, his game put to the side.

“Can I suck you off?” you requested, and his eyes lingered on your lips, smirk growing and eyes fluttering as he imagined them wrapped around the tip of his cock, teasing him like you always did. 

You did something he adored, and you felt it as you were pretty much sitting on his cock. Looking as innocent – and corruptible – as possible, you opened your eyes widely and slightly raised your eyebrows, blinking in slight fake confusion and pouted, your behaviour making Eric sharply inhale. He loved when you played with him like that, wanting to do nothing but ruin you till you were crying his name out of pleasure. You caressed his cheek and softly smiled when you heard Sunwoo calling for your boyfriend’s name in the headset, his eyes shifting to the computer as he saw Sunwoo’s character dumbly jumping in front of his AFK one. 

Gently, he helped you off his lap to let you rest on your knees like before, cradling your cheek in his hand, thumb rubbing the skin right under your eye.

“Do it, baby,” he said, and you giddily beamed, Eric’s hand wrapping around your chin stopping you in your excitement, “you can do it, but you’re not allowed to make a single noise, okay? I don’t want the boys to make any comment about it.”

“Yes,” you approved, and Eric lightly frowned, his smirk still painted on his face, feeling mischievous. “Yes who?” “Yes, Sir,” you whispered, and he fully kissed your lips, cutting the oxygen in your lungs before going back to his game after bumping your nose with his, as if nothing happened, letting you go back on your knees under the desk.

“Sorry bro, I was talking to Y/N. She wants us to stop playing,” he teased with a slight smirk and a wink as he looked down at you, gesturing you with his eyes to get closer to his cock. He almost added that his baby girl was a needy little slut, but as the possessive man that he is, he decided to keep that thought to himself. He’ll keep the humiliation for a future time. Who knows, maybe you’re going to find it as hot as he does.

Your mouth was salivating as you noticed that Eric’s cock was as hard as a rock. You played with the waistband of his underwear and gently tugged on it, pressing on his pelvic bone as he rose his hips in the air to let you get rid of his undergarments. You shook your head without looking at him, silently telling him that you had everything in control, and he chuckled, letting you do your thing. 

Only the tip of his cock appeared, Eric slightly hissing as the ambient air caressed his sensitive tip. He wished he could command you, telling how he wanted his cock sucked, but the mic was his current biggest enemy, only able to enjoy what actions you chose to satisfy and relieve him from the painful boner that you caused with your horniness.

The underwear waistband was now nicely tucked under his balls, acting like a push-up, making them bigger than they look. His length stood up proudly in front of your eyes, precum dripping from the tip. It made you giggle at how hard he was, also feeling turned on that you were the reason for his erection. 

You looked up at your boyfriend and he briefly looked down at you with a grin, seizing the opportunity of the in-game reducing fight zone to kiss your lips with such a force that his headset almost fell off his head, thumb lingering on your lips as you started sucking on it. 

“Such a good girl for me, so pretty,” he mumbled, and you hummed around his digit, eyes boring into his. 

Oh my god, you looked so fuckable like that. He wished he could do much more to you than letting you suck on his cock.

“Yeah dude?” he said, sighing as he sat back comfortably in his desk chair, readjusting his hips, his cock inching closer to your face. It was so hot of him to play two games at the same time; one second he’s praising you, and the next he acts like nothing’s going on, like he’s alone in his bedroom, chatting and laughing with his friends. 

You smirked, ready to put your plan into action, gathering saliva on your tongue by rubbing your tongue on your palate. You stood straight on your knees, your face now hovering above his angry tip. It was red, sometimes twitching due to his nasty thoughts or your breaths, begging to be touched or sucked. If you wanted to, you could easily start sucking him off right on the spot, but you decided to make him marinate a bit. 

Eric’s mouth slightly fell ajar as he felt your warm spit on his tip, rolling down his veiny length to his balls. His girth twitched around nothing, Eric grinning as you watched it roll down his shaft on its own, soon wrapping your pretty, plump lips around his tip. Your boyfriend exhaled and threw his head back, only for it to bump against the small pillow that was latched to his gaming chair. He bit on his bottom lip hard, trying not to moan out your name to awaken the suspicions of his friends, but it was harder than he had imagined. 

Sucking on his tip like a lollipop, swirling your tongue around it, you gathered a mix of your spit and his precum and went deeper, taking more of his cock inside your mouth. Humming around it so as not to gag too much, you wrapped your hand around the rest of the length that you couldn’t fit past your lips and hollowed your cheeks, Eric letting out a small whine.

“Y-Yeah yeah I’m fine bro, I just stubbed my toe against m-my desk, fuck!” he whispered in his mic, out-of-breath, and you looked up at him with a smirk, your head still bobbing up and down his shaft, taking as much of his as you could without making too many suspicious noises. 

Releasing his cock with a small ‘pop’, Eric slowly felt like ascending to heaven. The situation was so thrilling and forbidden, he loved every second of it. Between the excitement of getting caught by his friends and the suck you were giving him, he was slowly getting overwhelmed, barely focusing on the video game anymore. 

Wrapping your hand around his length, you licked a fat stripe up to his tip while looking at him, feeling it twitch in your hold as you alternated your pace, going fast before slowing down to a painful rhythm, your expert wrist helping your mouth. Eric was so sensitive to your skills, it made you want to touch him till he came all over himself and you, too, just to ruin him. With your tongue, you followed the vein swathed around his shaft down to his balls and started teasing and playing with them, knowing that it never failed to rile him up. 

And you were right. His breaths were getting quicker and more laboured, holding his controller in his left hand as the other was on his face, trying to cover his mouth and facial expressions as much as possible. He just wanted to press down your head to reach the back of your throat, feeling you swallow around him, but he knew just as well as you that it would make too much noise to go unnoticed.

“K-Keep going Y/N, fuck,” he muffled his mic with his palm for a second to moan out your name, your panties getting wetter at the sight that was rolling in front of your eyes and his needy call of your name.

“G-Guys I’m muting myself for a sec, Y/N wants to tell me about her day,” he said and didn’t even wait for his friends to give him an answer and disconnected himself from the Discord server, whispering some profanities as you were sucking him off and he was getting shot in his game. 

“Oh my god Y/N, baby, baby! Your mouth feels like Heaven, fuck! You’re amazing baby, please don’t stop. You’re making me feel so damn great,” he babbled his praising as his veiny hands gripped his controller hard, eyes going back and forth between you between his legs and the computer screen.

“You’re so fucking hot while sucking my cock, Y/N. You’re gonna be the death of me, baby,” he panted, slightly pressing on the back of your head as you moaned around his shaft, Eric resisting the impulsive urge to buck his hips into your mouth to stuff your mouth with his cock more as his moans got suddenly a pitch higher.

Tears started gathering in your eyes as he was deep in your mouth, rubbing against your cheeks, strangled moans erupting from his pretty lips when your throat closed around him over and over again, tongue swirling around the rest of his length, feeling the roughness and irregularity of his cock skin.

Pulling away for air, spit connected your lips to his tip, soon disappearing as you started stroking him up and down at a steady rhythm while catching your breath back. Your movements never faltered as you locked eyes with his ones blown with lust, slowly bending to lick the sides and underside of his shaft, his tip nicely coated with your spit tickling your forehead. 

“Oh my god, baby,” he groaned, making you smirk as you licked his tip, focusing on it like you had your favourite-flavoured lollipop in your mouth. You relaxed your jaw as much as possible, taking him further each time you bobbed your head, hollowing your cheeks when you felt like it, making him whine. 

Gagging around him, tears rolled down your cheeks as you took him the furthest you could, his tip resting at the back of your throat as you tickled his pelvic bone with your nose, Eric’s moans pushing you to pleasure him as much as you could. 

“Look at me baby, look at me, please. You’re- ah! You’re so sexy.” Not able to resist his pleas, you looked up at him through your lashes pearled with tears, Eric throwing his head back at your state. 

He didn’t know how he still hasn’t cummed yet; you looked so damn pretty between his legs with his cock stuffed down your throat, tears wetting your cheeks as the saliva and precum gathered around your mouth rolled down to your chin, soon falling in droplets on the carpeted floor. 

“Just a bit more baby, you’re gonna make me cum soon,” he airily whispered, his hands going in your hair to do a makeshift ponytail.

“I want every drop of it,” you mumbled after pulling away, jerking him off as you licked his balls, staring up at him with a grin, slightly sniffling. You knew how to talk to him, he was now desperate to mess your face and mouth up with his release. 

Even if his cock was already nicely glazed with your spit, you decided to add some more, just for more ease to slide it in your mouth. Now that his mic was turned off, you could make all the noise that you wanted, messily spitting and slurping around his cock as you took him as far as you could, Eric’s moans getting more graphic than before, signalling you that he was close.  

“Are you close, baby,” you asked him while pressing your thumb on his slit, applying pressure on it as your other hand gripped the length. He groaned in pleasure, and you hummed, loving how vocal he could get. Your panties were sticking to your core, you never actually realised how turned on you could get while giving your handsome boyfriend a blowjob.  

“I’m so close, just a bit more, darling, please,” he pleaded, and you nodded, fastening your pace around his cock as you went back to bob your head up and down his veiny length, the slurping noises mixing with his moans and your whiney hums only enhancing the pornographic aspects of the scene. 

“Oh god, oh god, Y/N, baby, just like that, you’re so good at this I swear,” he whispered as your hand wrapped around his shaft and started stroking him harsher than before, feeling throbbing against your tongue. His shaft engorged with blood and lust got harder as he was getting closer and closer to his release each second passing by, his orgasm approaching him like a wild animal hunting its prey, ready to pounce at any good stroke. 

“Right there, right there,” he whined as you rubbed his cock against your inner cheek, mimicking the sensation of your walls. Eric’s chest was heaving up and down rapidly, choking on his own breath as his hand at the back of your head applied pressure to make you take more of his cock. 

“Baby, quick, can I cum down your throat, please?” he asked, and you immediately removed yourself from his cock, Eric feeling his high vanish. He emitted a strangled whine as you devilishly smiled at him, twisting your hand up and down around his shaft, squeezing him just tight enough to drive him crazy. 

“Y/N, I’m gonna cum- ah! Please tell me where!” he begged panicked to cum on or around nothing, - which was for him the synonym of a ruined orgasm - his hands clutching the armrests as his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, making him look absolutely stunning.

He was ruined, and you loved this. You were high on lust just by watching and listening to him.

His moans were getting higher and sorer, his voice soon breaking as he pitifully moaned out your name. It was so hot and satisfying to see how much he was a begging mess just to reach his high. This view opened windows on new kinks, but that was going to wait. 

“Y/N, Y/N, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Look at me, babe,” you ordered before opening your mouth, drawing out your tongue, hand going faster around his shaft, the other messing around with his balls. You squeezed his length, and that was the last straw, his cum erupting from his cock like a geyser, landing on your face, hands and tongue in droplets and small drizzles, Eric buckling his hips in your hand as you helped him to fully ride his orgasm, your name being the only thing that shamelessly rolled off his lustful tongue. 

Once he came down from his high, you clenched around nothing as his dick twitched when his eyes landed on your cum-covered state, noticing how much it turned him on to give you a nice facial.

“That’s even better than down your throat, thank you so much, babe,” he said before bending down to press his lips against yours, his hand wrapping around your throat. 

“Next time it’s gonna be inside me,” you teased, and Eric let out a mix between a chuckle and a moan, resting against his chair, exhausted from his orgasm. He closed his eyes for a second, and you pressed your hands on his thighs and shifted your weight to get up, Eric immediately pulling you on his lap, tired arms wrapping around your waist with his face in the skin of your neck that thankfully remained untouched.

Resting on the side of his keyboard next to his tossed controller, the screen of Eric’s phone lit up, notifying him of a message from Sunwoo.

Sunwoo: “That’s what you meant with “talking about her day”, huh?”

… Wait. What?

Not even a second later, another message popped up.

Sunwoo: “I’m not sure she got a lot of talking done tbh”

Shit.

[alchemist-of-chaos]

morning after

characters: artem, marius, luke, vyn

warnings: implied seggsual behaviour

author's note: i swear this came to me in the middle of the night and i had to literally sit up and write it down so idk what that says about me lmao

artem wing

You stir. While the gentle rays of the sun tickle your eyelids, your languid dream slowly dissolves into nothingness. Slowly stretching, like a cat after a good nap in the sun, you notice the soreness of your body. Nothing uncomfortable, just a slight hum of exhaustion coursing through your veins.

You sit up slowly, your cotton comforter slowly sliding off your body. You take note of the faint marks littering your skin, where his fingers held on a little too desperately, where his lips trailed a little too passionately. You paint over the bruises on your hips with a feathery touch, almost in fear that they may disappear.

After all, Artem Wing was a man of steel and he held onto the distance between you with a determined grip. This will drive him away. Artem is a man married to his job and job only, the little voice in your head uttered.

A gentle smell enters your senses, that’s when you take note of the muffled noise coming from behind your bedroom door. Sounds like pans clicking… Is that the smell of bacon?

With a bated breath you get up, fumbling for something to cover yourself with. Halfway to your dresser you stop, your eyes setting on the neatly folded white shirt on your bedside table. Biting your lip, you almost renounce the idea, but the image of his bewildered expression spurs you forward and you quickly put it on, noting the husky smell that embraced you.

Leaving the bedroom, you are met with a sight that leaves you standing, the doorknob held tightly in your hand.

A gentle humming sounded through the kitchen as Artem slowly busied himself by the counter. A loud sizzling was accompanied by the sound of cutting, rhythm weirdly harmonizing with the low timbre of his voice. The man himself looked peaceful, the sun catching on his lashes. The loose pajama pants hung of his hips and the black t-shirt hugged his stature, his biceps contorting as he gently stirred the pan. Looking at his gentle smile, the doubts that were clouding your mind vanished, carried away by the thrum of his voice. You tiptoe gently, so as to not alert him and gently wrap your arms around his waist. You feel him tense, as if holding his breath, but it all melts away the moment your face is buried into his back. You feel him sigh in delight, his hand coming to rest on your forearm.

“Good morning, love,” he says and you feel your heart jump at the endearment. His feelings for you were no secret to anyone including you, but as the time went on, you feared that they would be buried by his own hand, including your feelings for him.

“Mm, mornin’,” you hum, nuzzling your face into his shoulder.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking the liberty of using your kitchen.” he muses, inclining his head to meet your eyes. You smile gently and shake your head. He smiles in return, bringing up your hand to his face. He holds your gaze as he gently brushes your palm with his lips.

“Go sit, if you want. Breakfast will be taken care of.”

The smile on your face was a force you couldn’t control anymore. Almost skipping, you head to sit yourself at the dining table when it hits you.

“Artem?” you ask, an inquisitive eyebrow lifting. He hums, not looking up from his work on the food. You eye his attire once more.

“Did you bring a change of clothes with you?”

He pauses, eyes sliding slowly to his checkered pajama pants.

“Well…yes? I, uh, wanted to be prepared. Just in case.”

You burst out laughing and he sighs in response, both of you choosing to ignore the reddening of his ears.

marius von hagen

The clanking of the silverware echoed in the spacious dining room. You took your time, absorbing each inch of the living space before you.

Too used to your work routine, you woke up as soon as the clock struck six. You had no doubt that his schedule starts at the same time, even earlier, but the exhaustion must have hit him harder than expected as he didn’t even stir as you got ready, tidying up the mess you both left in your haste to get undressed. You even ventured into his closet, and you hope he doesn’t mind, as a few buttons of your shirt seemed to come off with the force of his ministrations yesterday.

The washed out t-shirt hung loosely to your mid-thigh and as you washed your face after waking up, you eyed the black bruises forming along your collarbone, that will no doubt stay there in their glory for quite a long time.

Your mind wanders back to the sight before you as you carefully place the second place on the glass table standing in the middle of his dining room. The apartment was silent, other than your feet tapping on the hardwood and the rustle from behind the bathroom door.

Your relationship with the man was ambiguous at best. It was on the edge, a never ending struggle of luring the other in, as if testing the waters, and pulling back to tease. The subtle touches, the lingering glances, the scalding words. Weekly meetings of the NXX turned into hours of avoiding each other's gaze while your bodies longed for the other's touch.

You forgot at what point the thrill of the game became a drug to you, and like an addict, you cherished each moment your gaze locked with his and seeing that infuriating smirk of his made you hold your breath in anticipation.

It seems you weren’t the only one full of anticipation, the moment you entered the bathroom to freshen up, you were greeted by what seemed like a gift package on the upper shelf. White fluffy towels, seemingly freshly laundered and a carefully crafted rose-shaped soap still in its careful packaging. You didn’t know how to take it, a taunt or a welcoming gesture, but the sight made a giggle bubble at the back of your throat. It seemed weirdly domestic as well as possessive, after all, the fragrance that filled the bathroom as you showered reminded you of his scent.

The calm of his dining room was interrupted by the bathroom door opening, followed by soft steps in your direction.

“There you were, as I thought.” Marius teases, leaning against the doorframe. With a fluffy black towel in his hand, he was gently ruffling his damp hair. You eyed him in the corner of your eye, shirtless with gray sweatpants and a few droplets of water still cascading on his chest, you knew he wanted a reaction out of you. You didn’t want to give him one but truth to be told, it was pretty hard as you felt your cheeks heating up under the intensity of his gaze.

Gently dropping the used towel on the nearest surface, Marius confidently strides right beside you, elbows leaning on the corner beside the stove, facing you.

“Made yourself at home, didn’t you?” he pokes your cheek gently, your hand playfully slapping it away.

“Well, it seemed to me as if that was your intention.”

“Oh, was it now?”

“Really nice women’s soap you had in store, rose-shaped as well. What a not at all planned coincidence!”

“Hah,” he runs a hand through his hair, not breaking his gaze on you, “Well what did you expect? I always go all in, only the best for my queen.”

You cringe. “Ew.”

Biting his lip, he chuckles dryly: “Ye, scratch that, you didn’t hear me say that at all.” You laugh in response but nod resolutely, choosing to let him dictate the flow of this conversation. The morning seemed to breeze through, the two of you playfully chiding each other, and leaving the apartment, you weren’t sure which one of you was the winner of your never ending game as a key to his apartment lay on the bottom of your purse.

luke pearce

As the sun slowly creeping through the window hits your eyelids, you stir. A quiet laugh fills the silence like a gentle breeze, hands delicately brushing your cheek. You open your eyes, blinking at the smiling face in front of you.

His head supported on his palm, leaning on his elbow, Luke gazed at you gently, his fingers slowly brushing the hair away from your face. You hum, chasing his hand with your face and you sigh as he cups your cheek in response.

His touch has always been something that you sought out, his hands always gentle but firm in their hold of you. No matter how cliche it might sound, one of the places you felt the safest was in his embrace.

You think back to all the times where you found refuge in him. The stormy nights from your childhood, your little feet hastily tapping on the ground below you as you ran, each sound making you jump until your gaze landed on him, already heading your way in search of you. Both of you cuddled on the couch, you with headphones on to block the sound, laughing at the words written on the whiteboard in his hold, trying to make you feel safe and content.

Smiling back at him, you untangle your hand from your covers and reach out to caress his face. Before you have the chance to, he surprises you, lightly nipping your fingers with his teeth.

“Ah!” you flinch back, bewilderment written all over your face. Lukes face lights up, bursting into a fit of giggles. You watch him, realizing how long it’s been since you’ve seen him laugh so freely.

First love is said to be the most painful one. However, there was nothing painful about the way you felt about him. Since you were kids, you two have been by each other’s sides and hand in hand, you’ve walked into adulthood as well. The time he was absent only strengthened the feelings you had for the man.

While his smile slowly slipped from his face, it was still visible in his eyes as his hand slowly drifted over to the dip of your collarbone and slowly snaked its way to yours. His hands were gentle, polar opposite of the sheer fervor they were desperately clutching unto you yesterday. The moment you two connected, his hands were all over you with such passion it felt overwhelming. Now, the touch is light, as if checking if the one before him isn’t just a mirage of his imagination.

“You look pretty…” he whispered, lacing his fingers with yours. The compliment stuns you for a second. His compliments were normally frequent, however they never felt this sincere, as if it was only now you realized how much he actually meant the words he said.

“Come on, I just woke up.” you whine, burying your face into your pillow to avoid his loving gaze.

“Exactly,” he retorts “I’m glad I can see you like this, finally…” he trails off, his eyes scanning over your body buried under the silk sheet.

“What do you mean finally? The amount of time we’ve slept in the same bed-”

“That’s not- That’s different!” he corrects you in a rush and you revel in the sight of his pretty face gaining the red hue that it does. He seems to understand your teasing and huffs, exasperation all over his face. He seems to decide on something and in a second, you're laying flat on your back with his face inches from yours. Your breath hitches and as your eyelids slowly flutter closed in anticipation, you yelp.

“That’s what you get!” Luke taunts you as his fingers jab at your side, you bursting into incessant laughter as he tickles you relentlessly. It seems that even after taking the next step in your relationship, you will always have the ghost of your shared childhood enveloping both of you in a gentle embrace as your laughter echoes together with your memories together.

vyn richter

Your eyes slowly glide over the rows of books right before you. Standing in Vyn's study, you hum softly as you search for an interesting book to pass your time. 

It’s been a few hours since you’ve woken up and you have taken it upon yourself to wander around the house in search of something to entertain yourself with. It’s not as if it was the first time you had the liberty of strolling through his abode and he has made it clear that you are more than welcome to stroll around, very welcoming in entertaining your curiosity in him and his life.

Vyn Richter is a man that has been plaguing your mind since the first time you two have met. His thoughts, his mannerisms, his speech, all of it fascinated you and as time went on, you found yourself spending hours upon hours discussing various topics, going places together, making plans. The man's presence made you feel at peace, his calm translating to you. 

And it seemed that this interest wasn’t one sided at all as he was a man of actions and his actions spoke louder than any words he might have said. The protective arm he hovers beside you every time someone walks too close for comfort, making sure you don’t walk on the outer side of the sidewalk, gently reminding you to get enough sleep. Once, and that is something you will remember forever, upon realizing you have trouble sleeping he has taken it upon himself to call you and make sure you doze off peacefully as he read a book you two have been discussing to you.

You smile as your eyes land on the said book before moving on, choosing an intriguing piece of literature on the shelf below. As you ponder whether to start it now or not, a rustling sounds from the bedroom two doors down. You perk up, hastily putting the book back as you head there. 

Upon entering the room you note that Vyn has in fact still not woken up. Nothing surprising, after all during the many months of knowing each other he has shared his dislike in rising early multiple times. You have in fact managed to go through your normal morning routine without him even jostling around. Alas, you’re getting quite impatient now.

You tiptoe to the bed, slowly inching closer to him. You sink down on the mattress right beside him and bringing your hand up to cup his face, you lean down to kiss his forehead. Before your lips make contact, his eyes shoot open and he tilts his head, slotting his lips on yours. You yelp in surprise but you quickly melt into his embrace, his hand coming to rest at the nape of your neck as your body leans over his.

His steady hand is the same as it was yesterday, holding you together as you melt into a puddle in his hands. As if it belonged to him, your body naturally reacts to his touch and you almost lose yourself in the feeling yet again when he abruptly pulls away, leaning his forehead on yours.

“What a beautiful morning greeting,” he remarks softly, the corner of his lips quirking up softly as he closes his eyes.

“Hmm, it’s almost noon however…” you chime in playfully getting a breathy chuckle in response. 

“Come on, I made breakfast for both of us.” you urge him, extending your hand in invitation while getting up yourself. Vyn doesn’t waste even a second and he grabs your hand firmly, yanking you right back on top of him. Your eyes wide, you stare back at him.

“Let’s stay here for a while, dear.” he hums softly, thumbs gently caressing your hands in his hold. You sigh and lay on his chest, his chin coming to rest on your head in response. The peaceful atmosphere of his bedroom relaxes you and it doesn’t take long for you to doze off once again, Vyn’s embrace seemingly more comfortable than the bed.

[mechat]

HIII i just stumbled onto your blog 🥰 i hope you are well! do you think you can write a few headcanons for glenn hobbs? maybe w a s/o who’s wanting a relationship but is hesitant at first? gender neutral if you dont care <33

hi, sorry for the wait and thank you so much for your request<3

wanting more | glenn hobbs

the only thing that could be heard in the room were your heavy breathing, your skin flushed and your chests heaving up and down

no matter how many times you told him this would be the last time, you kept on coming back. tonight was no exception

he pulled you closer to him again and rested his chin on your shoulder. there was something oddly harmonic about the situation. but you knew you couldn’t stay, you needed to leave before the mood became something more serious. “glenn, i should go..” he sighed, and gripped you tighter.

“cmon, you’re exhausted, just..” he laid down carefully with you still in his arms before continuing “just rest for a while, before you head home”

even though your brain had screamed at you to get dressed and call a cab, your heart clenched at his words. “fine, but just for awhile”

you couldn’t fall asleep though, knowing he was right beside you in the darkness, underneath the same covers, in the same bed, if you just reached your arm towards him…

how much time had passed? with your back turned against him you pretended to sleep, cherishing this moment while it lasted

“i love you, my pretty girl” glenn’s words had made you completely freeze up, your back turned to him. if he had knew you were still awake there’s no way he would have said that, and you had to focus on breathing slowly for him not to notice

he wasn’t alone in his feelings, and a small part of you felt excited, happy, hopeful. but the realistic and cynical part of you quickly blocked those thoughts

even if he thought he felt that way about you, did he even know you? your conversations had been pretty limited to sex and there was a nagging fear that he just wanted to keep your body awhile longer

your mind was fighting with itself, one side wanted to be with him, while the other was scared. scared he would change his mind, that he would lose you

but if you didn’t do anything, you’d lose him anyways right?

even after he had fallen asleep behind you, his arms thrown over you and your head pressed against his chest, you couldn’t relax enough to sleep

eventually your eyelids became too heavy and you fell into unconsciousness. you slept so well, your body comforted by his warmth behind you

waking up the next morning, you had turned around to look for glenn. how could someone be so beautiful? his long eyelashes, his eyes, his jawline, his lips…

studying his face, you were in no rush to leave. the plan to sneak out after an hour of two of sleep long forgotten. if he really meant those words..

you hadn’t even realised how close your faces was till he slowly opened his eyes. glenn’s face seemed shocked to see you there, still with him

before you could spew out an excuse, he had given you a grin. “morning pretty girl” using one of his slender fingers he stroked your cheek

there was no battle in your mind anymore, the feelings you had for him had won. while a small smile made it’s way onto your face, you closed the small gap between you and gave him a soft kiss

[obeymeluv]

Jealous Demon Headcanons [General] (Diavolo, Lucifer, Mammon, Levi)

These are just my personal idea of jealous traits demons might show. This is general and a precursor to the actual jealous demon bros headcanons I'm working on. All under the cut just because I'm not 100% sure what's going to come out of it. Potential for NSFW.

Biggest takeaway: jealous demons are like big angry cats + some aspects of their representative animals (in the case of the bros).

Some bros get individual blurbs, some are together because they express similar traits. Just did what I felt like.

I am aware that Levi is technically represented by a sea serpent but I elected to simply give him serpent traits. 

This got unexpectedly long so I’m making a part 2 right after. That part will have Satan, Asmo, Beel and Belphie.

Note: you will see some of these exact points in the actual ‘Jealous Demon Bros Headcanons’ that I’m working on. I felt like I just have to get some of this general behavior out first for some of those to make sense. 

The jealousy of a demon and the signs they give largely depend on their lineage.

Royal Blood Demons (AKA: Diavolo)

Those of royal blood are especially prone to losing control of any eye- or mind-based magic. This is incredibly dangerous as their royal blood puts them a cut above the rest; they may unconsciously hypnotize the perceived 'threat' into a state of full-body temporary subservience ("zombification") or unleash subtler magic that inspires headaches or seconds-long loss of motor function. Demons of royal lineage may find themselves physically heating up or sweating; those naturally inclined to fire magic will lose control of it or find themselves able to use it without incantation until they feel more in control of the situation.

It is not uncommon for their mouths to flame or spark when they speak. They may also hiss smoke.

The biggest issue for demons of Royal Blood is a decrease in higher-level thinking. Those of Royal Blood are prone to devolving into more feral tendencies so they may engage in sparring and will not be able to contract their claws until they are comforted. They will most likely lose their ability to speak, instead going back to demon tongue. Some have reported self-harmonizing where the demon speaks in three tones at once; this indicates they are deep into feral tendencies as demon tongue eventually evolved into singular tones to emulate human speech. When in a feral state, the demon would much rather just whisk their preferred person (platonic or romantic) away from the perceived threat instead of fight and this is allegedly to preserve whatever that relationship may be and to get that person out of fighting range.

A feral royal is best handled by surrounding them with the scent of their preferred person; romantic partners will be able to quell a demon faster than platonic partners. Favorite items are suggested as they will try to 'hoard' the physical person and may squeeze them a bit too tight once they have them (especially those of naga lineage). Enough time with the scent will eventually calm the demon. If the demon is too wound up, it is in a demon's nature to hunt and one simply has to take an item of their preferred person and sprint to wear them down.

Avian Lineage (AKA: Pride, Greed)

The biggest issue demons with avian lineage experience is wing stiffness. This is usually because they are trying to make a showy display of their wings for the potential mate or to make themselves look ominously bigger to the offending threat. In general, the wings of avian demons are used extensively when jealous. Most jealous demons will bristle or air box with with their wings to indicate they are willing to physically pummel those that make them jealous.

There have been reports (allegedly about the second-born, Avatar of Greed) that they will lure their target into a state of calm and “punch” them with a wing unexpectedly. These are rumors, of course. 

While the Avatar of Pride has never been recorded “wing punching” someone, it is said the rustle and bristle of his feathers can be heard from quite a distance and those who hear would be smart enough to keep their distance. 

When jealous those of avian lineage will have ‘picking’ habits but this may range from pointed comments to physically pinching those they dislike when they think they can get away with it. Lesser demons with avian lineage have been known to ‘pick’ (steal) things from those they hate and hoard them for some unknown satisfaction. It is unclear if the elder Avatars do this.

As they begin to edge into jealous behaviors those of avian lineage may lose their voice or have their speech taken over by “chirps” or “squawks” that still suffice as demon tongue. This speech will remain until they’re calm.

Some demons will make obnoxious noises or go out of their way to talk over those they deem a threat to their potential interest. If a jealous avian-like demon is in a committed relationship, they will wear and show off something of their partner’s to send a message to other interested avian-demons. The partner is expected to do the same.

Other signs of jealousy depend on the specific bird. The Avatars are very private and it is alleged that the Eldest, who is associated with the Peacock, exhibits these behaviors:

Deadly stares that span vast distances and make the target distinctly aware that they are the one being looked at.

He has, on occasion, ‘hoarded’ a brother under a wing to separate them from those he deems questionable. It doesn’t matter how many wings it takes, he will keep them by his side. They have been lightly slapped with said wing if they try to escape before he deems it safe.

Lucifer is prone to isolate himself similar to that of a Peacock and instead wishes those he’s interested in to come to him. Once they give him a private audience, he will be especially engaging and aims to keep them in his area as long as possible

If jealous, it is highly believed he will dart up to the offender and attempt to chase them off or levy a challenge of continuing their intrusion if they best him in combat. If they win, they will be tolerated but are still probably in danger.

The eldest does not peck. He may, however, jab you with a pen or the nearest sharp object if you are the focus of his jealousy

In times of jealousy it is alleged that he lets off steam by clawing up little dummy sacks/dummy bodies. This isn’t abnormal as demons do have tearing tendencies, but no one has seen it in person.

If Lucifer’s jealousy has not yet made him prone to avian behaviors, it is said that he will cast a variety of curses because he is especially proficient in them.  

Signs of jealousy in the Avatar of Greed are a little more known but no one knows for sure how true these are. Such is the nature of Majolish gossip and the world he runs in. Strangely, the brothers will not confirm or deny anything about one another. 

Mammon will dress himself more fashionably or with shinier objects to attract attention

Unlike his elder brother, Mammon does not isolate. Instead he likes to be amongst the people and keep an eye on the target. He heavily enjoys spending time with his ‘precious’, whether it is platonic or romantic.

He doesn’t get especially warm when angry, but he will hiss and squawk more

His impulsiveness and risky behavior may increase at random when he hyperfocuses on his ‘precious’. Some call this a “bird brain” moment. This could result in being silly but more often leads to him making threats of thing that aren’t and causing fights.

Exhibits scratching behaviors; digging his nails into things or writing very hard on papers. Would do well to scratch on something to relieve the tension. May lose control of his claws at times. This may be directly tied to corvid tendencies of attacking with their talons. He is priming his “talons”. 

Serpentine Lineage (Avatar of Envy)

There are not many serpentine demons on the Devildom census. It is unclear whether the breed is dying out or simply refuses to answer the census. They are, allegedly, a very private breed. Jealous behaviors of serpentine demons include:

Being extra clingy with their chosen one, especially if that chosen one is warm blooded. 

If their chosen one also has a tail, they may knot their tails together

When jealous their eyes may taken on a brighter color or change shape. If they get mad enough, they will lose aspects of their vision and instead navigate by heat and smell. It is unclear if they go ‘blind’ at this point or if their eyes look cloudy

Their teeth will elongate and may make speaking difficult or impossible. Serpentine demons are very prone to biting when jealous

When jealous, those capable of producing poison can produce it freely. This gland is overactive in jealousy and they may secrete it without wanting to. It changes the taste in their mouth and causes them to spit/hiss more than they would. The effect of the poison depends on the demon’s lineage.

Jealous demons with serpentine heritage may find their skin drier and may scratch as their jealousy increases

If offended in their jealousy, they will isolate themselves. They may attempt to build a fort they can slither into since it keeps them low to the ground, is narrow, and they can coil as they wish.

Demons with serpentine tendencies don’t usually fight the offender but will if the offender does not back off of what they deem their ‘territory’

Be wary of overactive tails with jealous serpentine demons; when jealous they will have better controls over their tails.

It has also been said their tales ‘have a mind of their own when in anger’, they should not be approached as the reach of their tail is typically far greater than that of their demon limbs.

[l-vingdeadgirlz]

10 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐒 🔮

agate - agate is one of the oldest healing stone around . it promotes balance and harmony . it can also be used to improve concentration , enhances perception and analytical ability . it's said to sooth and heal inner anger , anxiety and aids in strengthening relationships . this is a stone of security and safety .

amethyst - known as an ' all purpose ' stone , amethyst is a stone that is said to help relieve any stresses and anxieties in your life . it can also be used to aid in sleep , as well as meditation . it can be used to soothe irritability , balance out mood swings , dispels anger , fear and anxiety . amethyst activates spiritual awareness , opens your intuition and enhances psychic abilities . it is also known to be a spiritual and emotional protector .

aventurine - aventurine is a stone known for prosperity & bringing in opportunities . this stone is an all-round healer and general harmonizer bringing in well being and emotional calm . this stone establishes what makes you happy & what makes you unhappy .

carnelian - carnelian is a crystal of confidence, vitality , sexuality , action and courage . it's believed that carnelian stones attract good luck , abundance and prosperity . this stone is often used to open up and balence the sacral chakra – this chakra is your creative and sexual energy centre which is associated with the colour orange .

citrine - citrine is the stone of positivity and optimism . this stone can be used to manifest financial abundance & opportunities . citrine attracts wealth , prosperity and success . it brings enthusiasm , joy , wonder and delight . it can also be used to awaken the solar plexus chakra , helping to cultivate confidence and personal power .

fluorite - fluorite is a protection stone that grounds and stabilises energy . this stone heightens intuitive insights and brings mental clarity . it gets energy flowing and dispels stuck stagnant energy . fluorite is also a protective stone that absorbs negative energy , so be sure to cleanse it often .

hematite - hematite is a stone that focuses on the here and now . it's known for it's grounding properties . to live a life well grounded will clear your mind and get the energies flowing throughout the body . this stone will counteract confusion and will help in supporting pragmatic action in order to pursue your highest goals .

howlite - howlite is known as the stone of awareness & is believed to stimulate the desire of knowledge and learning . it encourages emotional expression and is known to be quite a calming and soothing stone . it facilitates spiritual connection and also self awareness .

jade - jade is known to be a very lucky stone that helps create harmony in the mind , body and spirit . it's brings in prosperity and wealth in all aspects of life . with jade , you'll bring in a positive attitude and begin to envision all the opportunities and possibilities for yourself .

jasper - also known as the "supreme nurturer" . it sustains and supports through times of stress and brings a feeling of tranquillity and wholeness . jasper is a protective stone that absorbs negative energy , so remember to cleanse regularly . this stone will bring vitality and a surge of life force energy .

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NOTE : hiiii . . . just wanted to come onto here & thank everyone for the love that is coming through on this account <3 also ,,, that if you have a topic that you would be interested in seeing me cover , my suggestion bar is open . questions are also loved and welcomed .

[bangtangalicious]

fuck me forever | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: smut fuckboy!jungkook bestfriend!jungkook fwb!au college!au

summary: You’re busy studying but kookie wants to play. Really bad. 

warnings: sexual coercion, whiny jungkook...like really whiny. he is OBSESSED with reader’s tits, toxic behavior, manipulation, begging, body worship. a lot of body worship, praise kink, dirty talk, potentially dubcon(?) idk jungkook is being super problematic in this but its subtle, unprotected sex, lots of cursing 

word count: 2k

It had been a busy weekend, filled with late night study sessions, numerous coffee runs, and barely any time to breathe. You reclined on the living room couch of your apartment, typing away busily on your laptop, back against the armrest and legs out in front of you. Your feet rested comfortably in the lap of your best friend, Jeon Jungkook, who absentmindedly was caressing up and down your calves. You didn’t mind. Jungkook and you were quite touchy with one another when it was just the two of you. He was like that though. The campus fuckboy. You knew that neither of you were in a place to be in a proper relationship, and that was perfectly okay with you.  

Jungkook sighed, placing his own computer away. “Let’s take a break” He whined. You ignored him, too engrossed in finishing your assignment. If you had looked up you would have seen him pouting like a baby. He slowly slid under your arms so that he was laying on top of you as you continued to work, his head fitting perfectly in the crook of your neck. His arms wrapped around you tightly as he nuzzled his face into you and then turned to see what you were working on.

“Take a break y/n”

You chuckled.

“I’m on a roll right now Kook. Don’t interrupt me” Jungkook sighed. He knew there was no convincing you. He continued to remain cuddled up against you as more time passed. He began getting impatient, eager for your attention to fall on him.

“You’ve been working so hard” He mumbled into you softly. “I’m really proud of you” This made you smile. It wasn’t something you heard often, so you couldn’t help but feel elated at his words. You stopped typing so that your hand could gently run through Jungkook’s hair as you stared at the screen in front of you.

“Thanks Kook” You took a deep breath before returning to your grind.

Jungkook pressed his lips ever so slightly against your collar, barely leaving a kiss. It tickled, sending almost a shock through your body. His lips were soft and wet, and felt scorching against your exposed skin.

“I know you’re busy, but can I play with your tits?”

You weren’t sure you had heard him right.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me” You felt him smirk against you. “Please, I won’t do anything I just wanna squeeze them”

You sighed. You reasoned that it wouldn’t pose as too much of a distraction for you, and if it would keep him occupied until you finished, you were willing to indulge him.

“Okay” Not a second was waisted before Jungkook’s hand left your waist and harshly groped your breast, the fabric of your shirt crumpling with his touch. He moans softly, so softly that he didn’t think you heard him. But you did. You definitely did.

He props himself up so that he can use both his hands to massage your breasts, laying across you. You peer over his shoulder, attempting to continue focusing. He drags the collar of your shirt down the center of your neck with his finger, watching as the fabric reveals your cleavage slowly, before allowing him access to your bra. He keeps your shirt pulled down as he traces the lacey detail. His hands become softer now, as he uses his thumbs to rub circles on your nipples. He wants nothing more than to suck them. He wants you to suffocate him with them. He wants to feel them squashed around his dick as he pounds into you.

He instead slips his hands under the bra to feel the hot plump skin beneath them. He lets out much louder moan, not even caring that you heard it. He began playing with them roughly again, squeezing them tight, allowing his fingers to stretch and really get a handful of you. He moved them around, wanting to feel something more. His movements were almost painful, but you tried not to pay attention. What broke you was when you glanced down to see his big doe eyes peering up at you from between them, hands tight around your chest like he was holding on for his life, his eyes blasted with lust and yearning.

“Having fun?” You choked slightly as you spoke as his ministrations continued, trying to appear unaffected. He chuckled.

“I love them so much, fuck you have the best tits y/n. I think about them all the time”

“I always took you for more of an ass guy”

Jungkook finally stopped, getting up to put your laptop away. You didn’t try to stop him. You knew you weren’t going to be able to work now. He then dove back into you, this time his hands finding their way behind you and harshly kneading your ass, pushing you up into him slightly. You felt his hardening length press into your stomach ever so slightly, making your heart race. He began licking the top of your chest.

“I love them both.” He groaned, the vibration of his voice in your chest making your legs twitch.  “You’re so perfect. You’re so fucking perfect oh my god” He latched his mouth onto your breast over the fabric of your bra, using his teeth and tongue to get around the fabric so he could suckle you directly.

Now it was your turn to moan, heat pooling between your legs as you unconsciously bucked your hips. His tongue was running rampant against you, the hot sensation driving you insane. He opened his mouth even wider, pulling more of you into his mouth and sucking harshly. His other hand snaked down your body to find your shorts, beginning to pull them down.

With a pop, he left your breast, making you whine at the sudden hit of cold air on your nipples. He helped you undress quickly, then sat upright for a moment, just staring down at you, his eyes moving over your naked body like a vulture. He licked his lips.

“I wanna fuck you” He exhaled.

“Really, I couldn’t tell” Your sarcasm wasn’t cute to him. Not right now. And that only made you want to tease him more. Still fully clothed, he lowers himself back onto you and looks you straight in the eye, face hovering barely inches fro yours.

“Please y/n. Please. Fuck. This is all I want. I don’t want to do anything else. Fuck studying, fuck everything, I just wanna fuck you. Over and over and over again until I can’t anymore. I want to die buried in your sweet sweet pussy. I want you to ride my cock forever” He was panting almost feverishly. His words, while turning you on, were somewhat concerning, but you knew he was probably just really horny.

“Jungkook…not now…I really need to finish my paper. You said you would just play with my tits” You did want to fuck him. But the logical part of your brain was telling you to save rewards for when you deserved them, and right now, you had other things you needed to take care of that were more important than Jungkook’s raging hormones.

Jungkook looked like he was either about to start crying or punch something. His jaw clenched at your refusal, knowing that he had to listen but wanting you so incredibly bad.

“Okay” He exhaled backing away. “Yeah, um” His chest was heaving and you could see sweat forming at his forehead. He tried to look anywhere but at you. He swallowed, trying to get his heart rate to calm down.

But he just couldn’t do it. He pulled his shirt off and wrapped his arms around you again. “Please. Can I just…I’ll be super fast, can I just…a little?” His sentences were incoherent. It was turning you on how bad he wanted you. “Five minutes? Pleaseeee” He whined. You sighed, looking at the boy in front of you. His toned muscles not helping your decision making.

“Y/n I might actually die. Like I will explode if I don’t get to shove myself inside of you right now. Please please please”

You say nothing, moaning slightly as Jungkook kicks off his sweats so you can feel the direct contact of his tip against your wet folds.

“Baby…fuck…you’re so wet baby, I know you want to. I…I’ll be quick okay. Just let me get off this one time”

“Jungkook” You moan again as his hand guides his tip to make circles in your clit.

Something in him snaps, and the next thing you know his hand is around your neck and his dick is entering you.

“Jungkook! What the fuck!”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry” Jungkook was panting. He filled you up completely until he was flush against you. He stilled for a moment, fearfully looking in your eyes for a reaction.

“I’m not a fucking toy you can’t just put your dick inside me because you’re feeling horny” You snapped at him.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry…I just…” He really didn’t have anything to say. You realized then that you were wrong. To him, you were like a toy. Someone there to pound into when he felt the need.

And somehow.

You kinda liked that.

You pushed his hair behind his ear and cupped his cheek softly. His eyes widened as you kissed him softly.

“It’s okay. Take your time. Fuck me as long as you want to”

“A…are you sure?”

You nodded, and to make sure he believed you, you pulled his face down in between your breasts. He groaned, gripping your ass again and starting to move in and out of you slowly. He made sure to savor every second he was in your dripping cunt.

“Do you know” He exhales, “do you even know how fucking HOT you are? Do you know what you do to me?” The obscene sounds of his slow grinding filled the room, harmonizing with both of your soft moans. Your nails scratched against his back as you tilted your head back, basking in the feeling of the way his cock goes in and out and in and out. Jungkook reaches back up to cover your  mouth with his. Kissing you tenderly, like he had all the time in the world.

He breaks away just to gaze at you, stilling his movements. You furrow your brows in confusion. His thumb traces the side of your face as his eyes gleam with adoration.

“I love seeing you like this y/n” He carefully slides out to sit up, kneeling above your body, gazing at your every crevice. “How did I get so lucky” He whispered more to himself than anything.

He stokes himself with one hand while the other finds your clit, driving you to your edge. “I’m gonna cum on your tits. I’m gonna cum all over you because you’re mine. Fucking goddess, you’re the hottest girl in the world. I could just” He lets out an aggressive moan, his hands moving faster, “So fucking pretty. So fucking hot holy shit” He’s going as fast as he can now, words falling apart as he whines towards his release, “So fuck pretty fuck all mine” Just when you think he’s about to cum all over you he shoves himself back into you thrusting furiously.

“Jungkook!” You scream. You weren’t on the pill, and he very much did not have a condom on. “Stop”

“No…no…fuck…you’re so hot. You’re so hot y/n please please. I…I love you…please I need you so bad. Let me please…say it…tell me its okay. tell me you want my cum”

You were so shocked and confused, but his thrusting was preventing you from thinking clearly.

Just give in You think to yourself. You’ll like it more if you stop fucking thinking so much

As if he hears your thoughts, he slows down to a stop and looks at you. “If you really want me to pull out I will” His eyes looked so sincere that you couldn’t possibly deny him. You shook your head.

“You’re right…it’s okay…it’s probably fine”

Jungkook paused, as if a realization just hit him and his demeanor shifted entirely.

“Are you sure?”

You nod.

“Do you like it? Do you feel good?”

You nod. He strokes your face again, tracing your lips before biting him with his own. “Mmm” He moans into your mouth loudly as he hands push your legs up around his waist. “So fucking sweet. I can’t get enough of you” He starts making small thrusts, but forceful ones. It hurt but it felt so good at the same time. He doesn’t leave your lips for a second, as he continued to moan dirty things straight into you.

“You feel so good. So damn good. You don’t even know how many guys would kill for this. Best.” His thrusts get harsher with every word, “Pussy. I’ve. Ever. Fucked. My. Sexy. Little. Whore. All. Mine. Could. Fuck you. Forever.” His words speed up hectically, his body losing control as both of you arrive at your peaks, “FUCK, baby baby baby” He kisses your lips with a smack, “Say it’s mine baby. Say it’s only for me. Only I can fuck you like this.” He cries out in ecstasy. Seeing him so fucked out and gone turns you on and you feel your orgasm wash over you, pussy clenching down tightly, causing him to yelp. “Oh my godddd” You finally notice the way your bead is creaking loudly under Jungkook’s loud moans. His cum shoots inside you, filling you up in a way you had never experienced before. He drops down onto you, his arms on either side of your head and his face in your neck, softly nibbling.

“That was so good” He can barely even get his words out through his heavy breaths. His cock is still inside you, “You’re incredible” He kisses you again, softly, adoringly.

“Kook?”

“Mmhm” He answers between kisses.

“Do you like me?”

“Of course I do baby” He murmurs, clearly not taking much mind to your questions.

“No like, you kept saying I’m yours and things like that” He pauses to look at you.

“You are mine” He kisses your forehead, “I care about you. You know that. But I’m not proud of who I am. And I can’t drag you down with me. God, I would fuck you forever and ever if I could y/n. I would love you, I...I do...but I can’t. I’m pathetic. You deserve better” He sighed. Your heart wrenched. Looking at the boy in front of you now, those comforting eyes who were always there. Your heart swelled with emotion as you realized that maybe there was something more here.

“Do it” You barely whispered, causing Jungkook to tremble at the tone of your voice.

“What..?”

“Fuck me again. And again. Until we can’t stand”

masterlist

[angelisverba]

pink + white

in which harry owns a flower shop and things are going really well with the girl who buys flowers from him because he finally gathered the guts to ask for her number and his best friend won’t stop teasing him about it. 

read part one here

word count: 10.5K+

pairing: florist!h and y/n

warnings: more pining and more love-sickness and maybe some h-word stuff. some cursing, and some light drinking :D enjoy!!! (also, why lie: this isn’t edited. sorry).

*   *   *   *   *   *

For the first time in months, maybe even years, Harry is preparing for a date. 

The word itself sounded so foreign in his mind’s tongue, and his physical one as well because he would occasionally stop what he was doing and mouth the word to himself. 

Date. 

In the middle of humming to himself while stirring the homemade pasta sauce, he realizes that his peppy demeanor is reminiscent of Snow White. All that is missing are the twittering birds and other scurrying creatures bathing in his contagious bliss, helping him hang sliced fettucini on the pasta racks, trying the straps of his apron behind his waist, and harmonizing with his steady, rumble-y, chocolate-y renditions of Otis Redding and The Temptations as they come out of the speaker sitting on his counter.

He’s happy. He’s so fucking happy that he wonders if he’s sleeping and is bound to wake up to grey skies and rain and ice, cold feet. His cheeks are sure to ache by the end of the day because he just cannot stop smiling; it’s the only way to release the bursting joy cramped inside his chest at the thought of meeting with the girl who had been gloriously plaguing his dreams for the past two months. 

A few nights ago, they’d decided on dinner (she’d even said ‘it’s a date!’ and he had bit his lip with a smile while ogling his phone) being that same weekend at Harry’s house. Saturday at six. Y/n was bringing desert, and her sweet self. He was antsy, just as a child on Christmas morning, his train of thought nonsensical and in short spurts, bumping into round cul-de-sacs and dead-end streets that were vandalized with y/n’s face. 

When he wasn’t working, he was scouring the internet for recipes that looked good and had good reviews. Saturday morning he woke early, went to the market and bought the freshest looking vegetables, chicken, and a bag of flour. He even called his buddy who worked at a five-star Italian restaurant and asked if he had any tips on how to make the meal tastier. The floral bordered notepad had two pages worth of notes, his eager scrawl spelling out an entire new recipe for buttered pesto fettucini, a dozen garlic knots, and marinara sauce to dip the bread balls in. Confident enough in his own cooking skills, he’s not worried about a disaster resulting from the step-taking and recipe-following. He knows the food will be good, he just hopes they’re her liking. What if she doesn’t like Italian? 

But, that would be impossible because… who doesn’t like Italian… right? 

Flour dotted his nose and cheeks, contrasting starkly with the light and sparse caramel freckles on his cheeks. The red marks of tomato lingered on the frilly trim of his apron, blending with the tiny strawberries that belted across his angular hips. Harry wasn’t exactly the cleanest cook, but he figured that sacrifices always had to be made, and he would negotiate cleanliness if it meant wondrous faces of approval from the second the prongs of food-filled forks touched tongues. He liked praise. Verbally communicated. Through notes and texts. But his favorite kind was physical. He loved knowing that the subtle changed in poster- the straightening of backs, the widening of eyes- were caused by him (and the uncontrolled moans and writhes that came from his partners in did more for him that the actual sex). Insignificant stains would not stop him from beholding the unconscious demonstrations of indulgence and delight in y/n’s body language. 

At a quarter to five, when all of the lids were placed on pots and pans, buns staying warm in the oven, and his kitchen smells like what he would imagine Italy to smell like, Harry clapped his hands together, untied the neat bow at the small of his back and walked into the shower to freshen up for his special guest. One hour was pushing his ‘get ready’ abilities, but as long as he got out of the shower in thirty minutes, which was a little more than usual, he would make time. The outfit he wanted to wear was pre-selected and ironed the night before, resting on a hanger on the back of his closet door. 

Shucking off his clothes and tossing them into the woven basket at the corner of his bedroom, Harry clicks open Owen’s enclosure and allows his tiny green friend to climb into his fingers. The poor thing had been inside for a large chunk of the day, and would most likely go back inside soon after the mist cleared from the bathroom mirrors. That morning, after a refreshing session of yoga with his owner, Owen was gently placed back into his home with an orange slice and three crickets (one of whom Harry thinks he saw just before picking up Owen for company during his shower). It wasn’t unusual for him to spend so much time locked up, and Harry was sure to open the enclosure to an agitated chameleon after y/n left, his spoiled antics procuring an attitude for the change in his schedule. 

When the water is running in his shower and slow clouds of vapor start to rise from behind the steam-blurred sliding door, Harry sets Owen onto the thick bundle of eucalyptus that hangs around the shower head, careful to make sure he’s out of the stream’s way and settled upon the reader, coiled leaves. He showers in silence in hopes to be out quicker, and uses an expensive coconut and cinnamon scented shampoo meant to enhance your curls!’ that he only brings out on special occasions when he wants to boost the amount of cappuccino springs bouncing off his head. Bubbles trail the path of his mint-green loofa, under his armpits and across his chest, up and down his abdomen and over the taught muscles of his thighs. 

“Hope y’not peeking at my bits, perv,” he chuckles, picking up Owen and twisting the water knob with slippery fingers, soapy moisture from the shea additive lingering between his knuckles, “got the best seat in the house for that.” 

The numbers on his phone- which is frosted over with a blurry sheen of white that turn into water droplets when he swipes at it with his thumb- read 5:26pm, and even though he’s out four minutes earlier than he expected, a sense of hurry settles over him. Speeding to complete the final steps of his routine (a bit of moisturizer that smells sickeningly sweet to keep his hair soft and a dash of hydrating cream on his face because it always got really dry after a shower), Harry’s cursing under his breath in fear of being late to open the door to y/n when she arrived. He’s thinking he should’ve gotten up earlier and skipped yoga to start cooking or something when he steps in front of the mirror. 

Tonight he dons a long-sleeve shirt that matched the hue of coffee with a little too much milk, the two top buttons left undone to display his signature string of pearls perched delicately on his collarbones. Midnight blue pants dotted with small, embroidered silver stars stretch around his thighs and flare softly at his ankles to conceal the heel of his ‘fuck me’ ankle boots that were the same color of his shirt, the heels a chocolate brown tone with rhinestones dotting the bottom edge, spelling out the words. A bit vulgar, considering this was a date with cotton candy, bubblegum, and all things sweet personified herself, but it exposed (if you could even call it that, she’d have to concentrate on the heel of his shoes to see it) the racier side of him only some got to see. Dirty, naughty, smutty. 

Fuzzy pink handcuffs in his nightstand are more than enough evidence to prove that there’s more to him that it seems, but only really, really special people got to see that side of him. People who made him comfortable and confident because sometimes he needs a little push- a little reassurance. 

People who made him want to act in such a way. Men and women who openly embraced the fluctuation of his diverse character, soft and cool one second, and dominating the next. He was versatile and double-sided, like the sexiest presidential portrait on the back of a coin. 

But, he’s getting ahead of himself. Y/n is to be with him in no less than- fuck. Ten minutes. A quick look at the time increased his speed by at least 3 x’s, and resulted with a bruise sure to form on the side of his shin as he banged his leg at the end of his bed while walking out of his room. Long, lean, bambi-like legs made it hard to maneuver a space with efficiency when you were- in Harry’s case- a 6’2 frenzied man bustling around a semi-crowded bedroom. 

y/n <3: hiiiii harry! 

y/n <3: could you send me your address? i’m in my car rn and i just realized i have no idea where i’m going 

God help him. He doesn’t think the letter ‘i’ has ever sent him to a state of near-squealing before, and that’s only because Sarah once sent him a screenshot of a tweet explaining the various ways different vowels and the amounts they came in conveyed how the girl felt about the receiver. And… well, if that was anything to go by- and that’s not saying y/n goes by the same grammatical standards as everyone else, it was just nice to think about- the five i’s and her use of the word ‘hi’ instead of ‘hey’ and even ‘hello’ implied that she was very into him. Lucky, considering he felt the same way. 

But then again, just because it was something that he’d read online doesn’t mean that it’s true or that it applied to her. The excessive use of smile-inspiring letters could be her preferred use of texting, and she could talk to everyone this way, not just to him. 

That though alone slowed his rubber-burning heart by two beats, and so did the realization that he hadn’t told her where he lives. Slimy feelings of insecurity oiled his spine while his brain looped a montage of his guests' faces as they approached the back (sometimes front) entrance of his home. Half-hidden pinches of amusement, doubt, and sometimes even disgust. He would be lying if he said he could handle any of those concealed expressions because it’s his life, but he thinks that what hurt the most are their offensive remarks. As a result of these precarious situations, he’s learned to conceal much of himself from those he doesn’t trust, but it was hard to do that with y/n. 

His ears rang with the echoes of previous lovers. 

“You live in a store?”

“Is this your home? A flower shop?”

“So, what, are you like some kind of homeless person living in a store?”

Harry wasn’t ready for the possibility that any of… feedback could possibly come from his sweet daydream come to life, but he supposed it was way too late to back out now. 

Harry: I live above the flower shop, so just let me know when you’re here :) ! 

Devastating grey bubbles jumped on her corner of the screen, and before he even had time to register his panic, Harry had her response.

y/n: omg ok! I’ll be there in a few minutes then!!! 

Then. 

He panics. 

It’s not that he didn’t time himself correctly. No, he meticulously planned out every detail of this day from the moment they agreed on dinner so that every single detail would be perfect and remarkable. But, what he hadn’t counted on was her estimated time or arrival. Minutes? Minutes? How many fucking minutes? 

A rebel curl escaped from the neat up-do Harry had combed his unruly hair into, nearly remiscenest of the chocolate swoop of a Hershey’s Kiss, and he would have thought so too if he’s taken the time to look into the mirror one last time, but he couldn’t afford to blow his seconds like that. The heels of his shoes clicked and clacked furiously as he raced across into his bedroom, flashing ‘fuck me’s’ over and over again. Slender, ring-clad fingers glittered as they curled around a plastic bag sitting on his bedside table, and crinkled as he turned it over so all of it’s contents spilled on his bed. The red bag was from a local craft store down the street, and Therese, owner of Thistles & Things, had applied an employee discount before he even had the chance to modestly complain. Seven packets of pastel pink flower-shaped tea lights tumbled onto his duvet, and Harry mercilessly tore each one open with excessive force and bared teeth. Three, six, nine, and eventually twenty-one of the small candles landed in an incongruous pile that he scooped up immediately. 

He was halfway out of his room before he remembered that he needed to grab a record, too, and he skittered backwards like a cartoon chased-animal. A hiss steamed from his lips as he slammed the same shin into the same place on his bed. He’d bruise for sure, and as much as he wanted to bend down and sooth the tender skin with a press of his palm, there was no time. 

“Fuck me,” he echoed the statement on his shoes, half-limping into the living room and clamping a hand over the eye-shaped knob to yank the door shut behind him.

Over the last few days, Harry had memorized the placing of every candle that he had bought, and it didn’t take him long to settle them all into their places. The dining table didn’t require any because he had already positioned two golden candelabras at either end of the rectangular oak surface, candle sticks birthing tender pale wisps of light that cascaded over the covered ceramic pots of food. Two plates were already made opposite each other, across the short end of the table, giving Harry the hope of a game of footsie.  

His living room, however, did need lighting. He placed two on every small table, and four lined up in a row across his coffee table, albeit slightly crooked because he feared he was running out of time and his hands weren’t all that steady. The sudden realization that he needed a lighter for it all to work had him rushing back into his kitchen and rapidly pulling open drawers to find the forsaken stick. When he does, he’s sipping back to every flower, delivering fire to their center with fingers that trembled too much to make an easy, smooth process. 

“C’mon,” Harry muttered, shaking his wrist lightly in hopes that the small wicks catch fire sooner. 

With knees that knock together nervously, he straightens at the last candle. His heart is pounding wildly in his chest, and a crazy picture of someone plugging an aux cord over his heart with speakers that blare louder than a vibrating gong flashes quickly through his mind’s eye. He feels like a silly, love struck boy, and as much as it scares him, it also feels good. Because it meant that he was opening himself up for someone, rejection be damned. 

Just as he was settling the needle into the first groove of the record- a classical compilation of soothing pianos and violins- his phone brightened with an incoming message.

y/n: i’m outside!

Harry: I’m on my way down 

A chorus of ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’s’ spewed from his soft mouth, and his shadow was followed by rapid clicks of his boots against the hardwood floor. When he reached the door to the stairs, he turned to inspect his setting one last time and took a deep breath, his cheeks puffing out through the exhale. 

The soft hue of gold glazed the color palette of his ‘princess-home’, as a boy had once labeled it, with strokes of languid romance, softening the atmosphere with the same sweetness as that of a marshmallow. He’s turned the rest of the lights off, leaving the candles as their primary source of light. Though the flame itself was not colored, hues of pink tinged the light that dipped into the wax, making it look like orbs of light the color of Venus’ navel burned serenely around his home, adding to the tender setting Harry tried so hard to create. Vases that so beautifully littered his living room were filled with sprigs of mint, lavender, dahlias (a deep affection),and white roses (new beginnings) favorably polluted the air with the distinct scent of flora and rich herbal life. The heady smells blended with the creamy tones of the Italian food on his table, creating the orgasmic sensory experience that Harry toiled to articulate. 

It wasn’t the time to question his thought-out vision, but the wretched coils of hesitation prompted him to question if his efforts would overwhelm her and possibly scare her off.  Harry had never gone this far for anyone before, at least not really. He always pictured pretty things for people he liked, wanted to lather them in treasures and receive their smiles and words of praises with a blush that painted his face from satisfaction rather than bashfulness, but he’d never brought these visions to fruition… until y/n. 

Well, he thought, it’s too late to back out now. 

Spinning on his heel with purpose and wavering confidence, Harry closed his eyes, steadied himself with an unstable intake of oxygen, and tried very hard not to fall face forward down the stairs in his rush to get to her. His grip on the rail was slippery from the moisture of his palms, and the thunderous impact of his feet against the ground reflected the discordant pumping of his impatient heart. There was no booming music anywhere nearby, but the ghost of rumbling bass echoed at the base of his throat, vibrating against the pearls nestled against his collarbone… or maybe that was also his heart. 

A tugging thought makes him want to hesitate before opening the door, but by some miracle he doesn’t. He’s shoving the second to last barrier between them open with his shoulder, trying to control his breathing with strategies his old therapist had taught him long ago, and striding through a dark flower shop while the flaring fabric of his pants whispering with every step towards… her. 

The singular light hanging above his front door had been purposefully left on past their shut down time because Harry didn’t want her standing- not even for a few seconds- in the dark while she waited for him to welcome her in, and it shone down on her like a spotlight on center stage, highlighting her role as the sweetest love interest. His love interest. Because surely, there was nothing sweeter than her, and there was nothing but feeling in the shape of hearts- both anatomically correct and incorrect. And that made them both Prince and Princess, bound for a happily ever after, did it not? Two coy, blushing youths meeting with gifts and food and whispered words of bashful compliments and a heap of unspoken secrets hidden in their chests. The classic Disney set up. 

Harry’s steps faltered. 

Did she have to be so… so adorable? He thought for a moment that there was a ringing in his ears, but then realized that it was just a pathetic whine coming from the back of his throat at the sight of the angel waiting for him. Y/n truly looked like a tuft of cloud dropped from the sky of the clearest day, clad in a ditzy white summer dress that sprouted from her waist like the bell cap of foxgloves, cutting off elegantly at just below her knees where the smallest sliver of her skin winked at him before disappearing into a pair of go-go boots. A white headband held back the stubborn fringe that still somewhere managed to escape, and….they were wearing matching pearls (this detail ignited an inexplicable flame in the depths of Harry’s loins, and his fingers unconsciously came to rest on top of his own necklace). No ounce of color adorned her person save for the baby blue ceramic container she held in her hands. 

Both of them appeared to be each other’s opposites. Harry in his dark color scheme, y/n in her shade of white. Yin and yang. Strangely, his mind conjured an image that he had seen during one of his late nights scrolling through Pinterest: an art piece depicting Hades, a dark, looming shadow, and Persephone, a small white fairy-looking thing. Their colors, Harry knew, only served to highlight the compatibility of their love, the brightness Persephone brought into the God of the Dead’s life after eons of being alone in his realm of souls. Part of him felt warmth at the romance and poetic nature of the similarities between their relationships, and the other side of him- the ‘fuck me’ side- turned to a much more provocative view of things. 

How delicate could y/n feel in his arms? How… How vulnerable could he make her feel during an act that required physical transparency? He wondered briefly if he would be able to make a small bump at the bottom of her navel with the head of his cock, and instantly felt guilty that his thoughts were so salacious when the night had only just begun. 

Her lips spread into a shy smile the moment he entered the circle of light streaming from the light at the top of the door, and his own expression of pure happiness was a natural- instinctual reaction to hers. A sheepish twist of lips blossomed into a blushing grin, and the gleam of romantic recognition danced around the edges of his irises like the sparkle of light against the condensation of a Coca-Cola bottle. He was hyper-aware of the way she watched him as he turned the already-there key and broke the last barrier between them. 

“Hi,” he squeaked, the greeting breaking against the roof of his mouth. He cleared his throat, and tried again. “Hi. Let me take that for you.” Reaching for the container in her hands and shaking his head when she begins to mumble an argument, he nudges the door back further with the heel of his foot and gives her space to enter, feeling dizzy when the smell of her sweeps over him as she passes through. 

“Hey, you,” are her first official words of the night to him. Y/n folds her hands in front of herself and looks around the store as if she’s looking at it for the first time (and Harry guesses that, at night, it is a completely different place).“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you lived on top of your store, Harry!”

Dread drops down his spine like a tsunami. There it was. The single sentence that usually signaled the night would be underlined with bitter awkwardness. However, the form of delivery was different. Y/n didn’t sound as put off as others usually do, but he couldn’t be too sure. She wasn’t facing him, instead slightly crouched and inspecting a stem up close in the darkness. It was hard to read her, or anyone at all really, when he couldn’t see their faces. His tongue dried, and while blinking back the embarrassing threat of tears, he swallowed and asked, “Y-you don’t think it’s a bit… weird or anythin’?”

“Of course not, silly,” she gasps, spinning on her heels before popping up straight. She sounded confused at the question, the furrow in her brows telling him that she hadn’t expected that, and the relief that floods through him is palpable. The tension that crept up his shoulders dissolves like steam in the air when she makes eye contact with him, a warmth similar to the inner heat that spreads throughout his sternum when he drinks hot chocolate or coffee settles at the base of his spine and he’s tingly. “My favorite book as a little girl was about a toy teddy bear who stayed the night at a mall because his owner forgot him, and he spent the entire time looking for one of the missing buttons on his overalls. This is kinda like that… I think.” 

“Y’talking about Corduroy?” Harry asked. His brain was going a mile a minute, barely able to keep up with the way this conversation was moving, the new direction it was taking, and the imagery of the lost bear from a storybook his mother still has in the attic somewhere, loved and covered in his fingerprints (both young and recent). It didn’t usually go like this. His dates never talked about stuffed bears. His date never talked about something he knew or was familiar with. His dates never continued the conversation with such a non-caring attitude, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do, what was right, and what he should or should not say to make sure nothing got spoiled. Giddy and deadly anxious, he breaks eye contact, eyes downcast, and starts making his way back up the stairs. 

“Yes!” Y/n replied, the tap of her shoes making Harry’s ears prick in awareness, “did you read his story, too?” 

“He was…” He hesitated. Up until now, this sweet angel of a girl had been nothing but kind to him. Her words were not double-edged or traitorous to his feelings, her tone held no stale sarcasm, only genuine interest. Harry could be honest with her, he knew that. Nothing about her pointed to future embarrassment, but that hesitation was second nature to him. Like breathing. Only instead of releasing and taking, he’d constantly been holding back, and this was new. It was good. He cleared his throat, playing off the pause in his sentence, “he was actually my favorite as well.” 

The confession left him on the edge of anticipation, horrified that he would start sweating because he was so set on pleasing her. On making sure that none of what made him him, acted like a fold of carpet, causing her to trip up and leave in a foul mood. He instantly questioned if his comment was ‘weird’. Queer, maybe, but not wierd to him. Y/n, though… she wasn’t him. What if she did think- no. No, Harry couldn’t go there. She was sweeter than every jar of organic honey he’s ever tasted, her shine prettier than the opaque glaze of the amber syrup, and even if she did think something was off about him, Harry knew that she wouldn’t admit it openly. 

Y/n was not like the rest. She had already proved that by not turning up her nose in a visible sign of distaste at his living accommodation. In fact, she had seemed… intrigued. Curious. Maybe even fascinated. 

They’re halfway up the stairs, so he can’t look over his shoulder and risk dropping the pan in his hands while tripping down the stairs to read the emotions on her face while she responds. Both of their legs sync in stride, slicing like a pair of twin scissors as they move up to his open door. A soft chorus of swishing fabrics accompany their slightly bated breaths, hers more than his. 

“Are you just saying that or are you being serious?” Y/n said, the curve of a question mark contorting her breathy words with the cleanest swoop. Sincere. 

“M’being serious!” Now at the entrance of home, Harry can partially twist his upper body so that his eyes can feast on the delicacy of her glorious image. If his eyes were physical entities, and what he was seeing was a frozen, tangible thing, he imagines they would be starving beasts eating for the first time in months, clawed fingers scooping morsel after pink morsel into their irises. Gorging. Consuming. Devouring the heavenly art they so had the privilege of touching, biting. 

Not even the praised masterpiece of the Sistine Chapel could compare to what he was looking at. In the dim lighting of his decorated apartment, y/n’s virginal clothing was bathed in a dusting shade of blush from the pink candles that were placed throughout the place. Color snuggled against the contour of her body, multiplying her tender appeal to surpass the effect of a newborn lamb on wobbly knees. Or the inner veins of a pink rose. So incredibly soft. Her fingers toyed with each other, wiggling amongst themselves as her chin slowly dipped and lifted, her eyes slowly taking in the scene Harry worked so hard to set. They were slightly wider than normal, her mouth parted as her tongue ran along her bottom lip, moistening the skin before they closed and the tendons of her throat contracted around her swallow. 

Her silence was shattering his insides, in a way that Harry could not determine. Would this be the tipping point? Would this be what makes her run away? Did she not like his home? He was filled with questions that piled on top of each other too quickly for processing. The side of his trousers were damp with the sweat that he wiped from the center of his palms, and also to keep from running his hands through his hair and turning it into an unruly, poofy mess like a cartoon electrocuted cat. 

Setting the baby blue container next to the kitchen sink, Harry asked, “you don’t like it?” His words were merely a sound. Meek and feeble. Frail like a defenseless baby. The tremble of a kicked puppy’s shoulders. The heavy vulnerability in his tone makes y/n whip her head in his direction, the same air of confusion coating her features like a thick buttercream frosting, and her first words were a swipe of grabby fingers revealing bread underneath. 

“What?” Her chin digs into her neck in recoil. “No, Harry… no, I love it. You did all this?” She lifts a hand and sweeps it around her in a half circle, the end of her skirt curling upwards and Harry thinks fire ants are biting the apples of his cheeks when his gaze drops down as she moves. Instantly, he feels like a creep for checking her out, and even worse, for allowing his blood to flow in a nether direction. “For me?”

He stutters a response, blushing and grinning like a school kid and mentally kicking himself over it. But he’s so relieved and a little shocked that he allows the tension that’s built up throughout the day to leave his body and decides to just… enjoy himself without overthinking every action. Scratching the back of his neck with one hand and stuffing the other into his pocket, he leans one shoulder against the wall and stares at a candle by her hip.“O-of course, I thought you, um, deserved it.” 

It’s her turn to flush now. They look silly, practically toeing at the ground like cherubs in a vintage Valentine’s card, but just as adorable. Plumes of the finest birds feathers couldn’t match the downy lilt of her voice as she spoke to him. It felt like a caress against his skin. “No one has ever done anything like this for me before.”

I’ll do this a million times over for you and more if y’let me’, Harry thinks. In that moment, every inkling of a future, desire, dream, want, every fantasy solidifies itself and he knows that he wants more with her. He wants it all with her, all because she was nice to him (might as well call him a puppy; a few pets and coos and he’s loyal forever). 

Instead he pushes himself off the wall and backtracks the few steps to the sink, fingering the aluminum covering the casserole she had brought, and answered with more fluidity and confidence that he had ever possessed around a conquest, “It was my pleasure, y/n. What’s in here?” 

Several squares of flaky, buttery looking pastry sit on the inside. A nutty, sweet smell wafts it’s way up to his nose, slinking down the ridged of his throat and dropping down to his stomach, where the aroma pokes a sleeping dragon called Hunger. Harry comes to the realization that he hasn't had anything to eat since breakfast that morning, and even that was just a serving of oatmeal and half a banana. Too busy preparing and thinking, worrying. 

“Baklava,” y/n said, her voice sounding far-away and distant. Harry looks towards her, his heartstrings tugging now that she was further away- now that she didn’t have his full attention- because she was looking around his apartment, her back to him. “Got the recipe from a greek restaurant I ate at every morning when I spent a semester abroad. It’s not as good as the gran’s who taught me, but it’s still pretty g-,” her sentence broke off in a breathy gasp that fueled a rocketship in Harry’s belly, the flames feathering further, below, because it was reminiscent of a surprised pleasure that came after the first thrus- “Is that Matisse?”

There’s a scene in the movie Twilight that illustrates the moment Bella’s heart stops- the crystallization of every blood cell and vein, the freeze of every artery and the hollow within- and Harry imagines that is exactly what is happening inside his body when y/n correctly inquires the name of the artist he loves so much. 

“It is.” Nodding, Harry brings two slender fingers to rub underneath his nose, his closed fist a feeble attempt to hide the smile fighting it’s watch across his mouth. Tens of thousands of hummingbirds tickled the inside of his rib cage every time she spoke, and he had to shift his weight because the bottoms of his feet were sizzling with the emotion that raked his body. He watched her as her head moved slightly up and down, observing the blue silhouette of a curving woman that was framed on his wall. “Y’know Matisse?”

“Mhm, he’s one of my favorites,” her hair bounced in affirmation, then she turned to him, “I love your home, Harry. It’s very pretty.” 

Roses bloomed on his cheeks.“Thank you, love,” twin flowers appeared on the roundness of her face, too, and Harry was satisfied knowing that the nickname he let slip affected her as much as it did him while saying it.“Y’wanna come see what I made for us?” 

“Yes, please!” 

They both took the small steps to the set up kitchen area where an array of pots, food, and arranged plates waited elegantly and poised. The gold accents and shine of ceramic shouldered an enchanting allure underneath the incubating glow of the candelabras perched at the ends of the table. Harry waited for y/n to reach a stand besides him before reaching for the closest lid with a steady hand. Surprisingly steady, given that she was so close to him their arms pressed against each other, creating a bubbly static of electricity between them. Her warmth scorched through layers of clothing and branded his skin, her smell- a unique blend of vanilla, mint, and a flower Harry couldn’t place because his mind was too frazzled- invaded his nostrils with the same flurry of an aggravated hornet. His mind was only y/n, y/n, y/n, while his mouth spewed ornate descriptions of the meal before them. 

The smell of roasted garlic, butter, tomatoes, grated parmesan cheese, and freshly baked bread surrounded them in the form of a large Italian cloud. Clinking dishware twined with the smooth drawl of Harry’s accent that dipped and stuttered whenever he glanced at her and found her already looking at him from the side, the bridge of her nose covered in the lace-like shadow of her eyelashes. His thoughts scattered, and once or twice she had to fill in the final word of his sentence. 

“...and here is homemade garlic and rosemary…”

“Bread?” She suggested.

“Y-yes. Bread. Or, knots. Whichever works.” Setting his hand back down on the back of the chair in front of him, Harry inclined his head towards the food, gesturing his question, “s’what do you think? Ready to eat?”

Y/n nods, smiling up at him with stars in her eyes (really just the reflection of the flames on the table, but Harry attributes them to her inner sun shining through). “Pretty please,” she said. 

“Sit. I’ll serve you.” Pulling out the chair in front of him and motioning for her to sit, Harry tries his best to not look down as she flattens her hands underneath her bum while sitting, emphasizing the curve of her hips. He pretends not to notice, like he isn’t fighting a sweat, like his collar isn’t tightening by the second, and like the statement written on his shoes isn’t repeating over and over in his head. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck. Me. “If I’m serving too much, let me know, okay?”

Y/n shoots him an excited smile and nods quickly, like an eager puppy, and fuck if Harry’s cock isn’t jumping in his pants. He feels so inappropriate. He fears that the word ‘HORNY’ is written in a glittery hot pink across his forehead, and that his semi-hard-on was transparent through his starry pants. Shame makes him even hotter, the angel on his shoulder shunning him for mentally defiling someone so innocent, and yet somehow that only spurred the ache in his groin further. Praying that it was dark enough for shadows and the midnight blue of his pants to conceal his hormonal reaction, Harry began serving her from the closet casserole: basil pesto angel hair pasta.

She doesn’t interrupt his portioning until he reaches for the second garlic knot and a timid squeak leaves her worried lips, “can I just have one, please?” Her hand is outstretched, reaching out towards the plate and her eyes slightly wide and her eyebrows raised. He thought that she looked so cute underneath the dim light, ethereal, and his semi grew closer to full-on hard. Literally. 

“‘Course, love.” The edges of his eyes go soft and downturned like half-crescent moons, and he nods to assure her that her request was well received. “Did y’want any more or is this okay?”

“That’s okay. I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat it all as it is, and I feel bad because it smells and looks really good.” She glances down apologetically at her food. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you plenty of leftovers to take home,” he waves her worries away, and serves himself, bringing out the wine he had for them to share.

They eat in comfortable banter that switches from chat, jokes, and silence everyone in a while, but hidden glances (that aren’t so hidden because they often catch one another) are heavy throughout the meal. So is the ‘accidental’ knocking and nudging of their feet underneath the table. 

Everytime y/n hums about how good the food is, Harry has to pull at his collar, cross and uncross his legs to alleviate his dick, and lower his gaze to his own food to hide the flush that’s heavy on his cheeks. 

When they wrap up their meal, they playfully fight over washing the dishes, and then finally settle on sharing the washing and drying duty (Harry washing of course, because he couldn’t let her take the brunt of it) and ‘accidentally’ bump hips while they stand at the sink. While putting the plates away, Harry boldly stands behind her ‘to place a plate in the cabinet above her head’ and places a hand on her waist to let her know that he was there. But he doesn’t move away right after setting the plate down, and maybe it was the wine he drank because before either of them know it, y/n is tilting her head to the side so that Harry can run his nose down the length of her throat, inhaling her scent as he does so. 

Reaching her shoulder, he presses a kiss there, straightens, and then walks back to his kitchen area to refill both of their wine glasses so they can sit on the couch and converse a while longer. 

They talk about things that Harry can’t concentrate on because he’s staring at her too hard, and he notes that her crossed legs are angled to his, both of their body languages pointing to each other. He remembers reading once that it was an indication of interest, something that our bodies did without notice because it was a procreation survival instinct or some shit. He doesn’t know and he can’t care enough to remember because all he can think about is how pretty she looks in his home. His mind is muddy with cartoon red heart bubbles that blow out of his ears and pop as soon as they’re free, only to be replaced by another. 

And then he can’t take it anymore. He has to tell her. 

“Love, you’re so beautiful it hurts,” he states bluntly, peering up at her with a steady gaze. 

“It’s the wine talking,” she says, brushing off his compliment. 

“No,” Harry shakes his head solemnly. “It’s me talking. Tispy me. This is what sober me thinks all the time, but I don’t have the balls to tell you because I’m afraid you’ll run away from me.” 

She was in the middle of taking a sip of wine, and Harry’s statement made her giggle. 

Some of it slips out of her mouth and down her chin.

Time stops.

Time stops the moment that dainty dollop of white wine slips past her lips and down her chin, glistening like a precious diamond as it marks a wet track down her throat, settling at the delicate hollow of her throat that still vibrates from her bashful laugh. 

Everything around Harry freezes, even her movements, and before he knows it, he’s moving. The low concerto playing on his vinyl record sounds like it’s underwater, drowned by his adrenaline. Somewhere, something in his mind is telling him that this is wrong, that he should get her explicit permission before acting so boldly, but a louder, PSA-level thought is telling him that she wouldn’t push him away. There was more than enough to prove that she felt the same way that he did (the way she froze and her breath hitched when they were putting their dirty dishes into the sink, her eyes fluttering when his nose dipped to smell the curve of her neck). 

Wrapping his long, slender fingers around her wrist to keep the wine steady and away from his line of fire, was okay. Leaning in with the same speed of a cornered cobra- thought this was no prey and predator scenario, because had that ‘time freeze’ effect not muddled his tizzied senses, Harry would have seen that y/n tipped her head back in the slightest centimeter, almost expectant and welcoming of his salacious touch- was okay. The fact that his salivating tongue dropped out of his mouth instinctually to trace the path left by the rebellious wine in reverse, was okay. 

What was even better than that, was the revolutionary flavor that exploded like fireworks across his tongue- the perfect mixture of her, her skin, and the bittersweet bubbly wine- buzzing him all the way down to his toes. The crotch section of his pants becomes uncomfortably tight, and Harry can feel the head of his dick leaking precum onto the  lower section of his abdomen, where the waist of his pants sits just below his belly button. His lips flutter around the vein where her pulse thrums, and continues all the way up to her chin, nibbling on the tender, baby-soft underside. A whimper leaves her when he pinches her skin with his teeth particularly hard, and he moans in response, licking over his assault apologetically, soothing her. 

Leaning back, he takes her in, and fights the urge to rut into the air. 

Her breathing is erratic, her chest heaving as she sucks in loud gulps of breaths, head thrown back. If Harry hadn’t grabbed hold of her hand, that wine would be all over his vintage couch.  She’s flushed, her neck from his abrasions, and her face from- well, he hopes it’s because of him, too. A faint shine decorated the curves of her face, highlighted from the candles on the coffee table, and her lips are shiny and red from her own lips and tongue, a brilliant color of rushing blood coating them as air leaves in soft tufts. Her eyes are closed, but her eyelids and lashes flick and flutter from erratic movement. 

The music slowly comes back into the focus of his eyes, and Harry’s teeth sink painfully into his bottom lip, muffling a noise that’s a mix between a whine and a moan. His ankles cross and uncross nervously, and he begins to detach her fingers from the stem of the wine glass, a task that proves to be more difficult than it should have because y/n’s knuckles are whiter than bone as they clench tightly underneath his hand. Her eyes snap open when he strokes the bumps of her fingers, coaxing her to let go. Gulping, she flexes her fingers, and Harry takes the glass, setting it on the table before taking that same hand and turning it over in his, taking it up to this mouth and gently kissing every finger tip, all while holding eye contact with her. 

“Please,” he whispers hoarsely after her pinky. Her hands, he notices, and trembling, and the endearing notion of her own nerves, makes him press her spread out hand against his chest. “Let me kiss you, darling.” It was a plea and a question all the same. His desperation and adoration were written all over his drawn eyebrows and dilated pupils. Cock stiff and straining against the seam of his pants, he fights off another pitiful whimper as y/n pulls in a ragged breath.

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice shaky like the crunch of broken glass under a boot. Her hand, small within Harry’s, continues to tremble as she continues to speak, her head nodding along with her feeling while her red lips shape around her words.“Yes, I want- want you to kiss me.” 

Swiftly, yet lightly, like the flap of a butterfly’s wings, the pads of Harry’s fingertips map a trail down to her wrist, where he presses a wet kiss against the vulnerable underside, and continues to the crook of her elbow, goosebumps prickling below his wake like paint and a paintbrush.  “Thank you,” he groans, his breath harshly fanning against her skin as he continues up to her bicep, his lips hovering over her skin now that her sleeve creates an offensive barrier. “Thank you, love. Y’such a treasure.”

 The tip of Harry’s nose replaces his lips in a smooth transition, and dips into her collarbone where the movements stall, running back and forth the little hollow in a way that makes her suck in a breath, her hand coming up to sink into his bicep because she’s begun to sink into the couch and away from the affections of Harry, which is something that neither of them can have, so he remedies the situation. 

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he hauls her up and her thighs part without instruction so that she is straddling him, her bum resting on the thick of his thighs. White cloth flares against her thighs, obscenely creeping up high near the juncture of her thighs before swooping back down, and the sight sends a throb down Harry’s cock. He’s sweating now, every inch of his body hot, but he wants to look at her. Drink her. He wanted to worship her, kiss and lick at every crevice of her body and cum from that alone. 

Y/n stared at him, her eyes wide, dazed, and glossy like a doe’s. Lashes fluttering innocently, eyebrows meeting on her forehead almost petulantly. “You’re not kissing me,” she whines. 

Fuck, he thinks. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The words on his shoes burn into his heels, and a smirk teases his lip at her impatience. Old ways, domineering ways, begin to take hold of every thought, action, and word. A side of him that doesn’t really come out unless it’s during sex prowls behind a cage that’s in the process of being opened. Since he first saw her, and even before that, Harry hasn’t had any company in his bed. It didn’t feel right. Nearly three months, and the fire within him was raging, eager for arson. Maybe this was the reason for his teenage-like reactions. Everything about her had his prick swelling. It was ridiculous.

The arm remains around her waist (he wants to drag her closer to him, but it didn’t seem appropriate, yet) and he brushes her hair behind her ear, his finger coming down her jaw to caress the underside of her bottom lip. Y/n is preening at his touch, leaning into his hand as her eyes flutter closed and her breath comes out a little heavier. “Be patient with me, love.” He says, voice husky, “I’ve wanted you for so long, and now that I have you I want t’make it last. Don’t y’want it to be good?”

She nods, her eyes closed and her face tilted up at him expectantly. This won’t do for Harry. He required her full attention, her complete contribution. It was more comfortable for him when there was communication, and he understood that his actions and words could sometimes be a little overwhelming, so he didn’t mind providing an extra command or reminder to be present when it was needed. He takes her chin in his hand and taps his finger against her jaw to make her open her eyes, “Can y’use your words for me, darling? I asked you a question, did I not?”

Her throat nudges Harry’s knuckles as it contracts around a very thick swallow, eyes fluttering open like she’s waking up from a pleasurable dream, “y-you did.”

A pleased look smooths over Harry’s face, the arm around her waist tightening slightly. “Then answer me: don’t you want to feel good? Don’t you want me to make you feel good?”

“I do.Yes, I do Harry. I wanna feel good… please,” y/n whimpers, pouting and twining her hands around his neck so that the tips of her fingers could play with the ends of his hair. That dazed look in her eye was getting heavier at the same rate that Harry’s dick was growing even thicker in his pants because he was enjoying the desperation in her tone. He loved that she trusted him enough to melt in his arms the way she was doing, shuffling forward to try on his lap in a way that showed she was positively itching to be kissed, and noises of his own arousal were fighting, clawing their way up his throat. 

The raspy-ness of his voice has increased by tenfold, adding a devilish gravel to his voice that coaxed a soft mew from her. “Good. That’s much better,” he mutters, praising her. His eyes travel all around her form and snag on her chest, where pebbled points clearly outline her nipples through the fabric of her dress. Harry chews on the inside of his cheek, using every ounce of self-restraint to keep from bucking his hips into the air while she’s patiently waiting, innocently yearning for something that- from him- wasn’t going to be innocent at all.

Tenderly, Harry strokes the pads of her fingers in a line from her cheekbone, to her lips, to her other cheekbone, and back down to her lips, pulling the bottom one down and licking his pink mouth as he watches it spring back out. He meets her eyes while tucking his hand behind her neck, his fingers digging into her hips with more of a bracing force than necessary because he was too tense. Too wound up, and she was droopy like a drizzle of caramel, waiting and falling wherever he led her. Harry needed her calmness because he was afraid all hell would break loose once he tasted her. Thighs flexing beneath her, his abdomen clenched with both heat and nerves, and his heart was beating light-years per millisecond. 

The couch creaked once as Harry shifted his weight forwards, and y/n’s eyes fluttered closed to the beat of the quiet and serene piano keys in the background, her breath puffing out once more before it lodged in her throat, her chest stilling, and he can’t held the endeared smile that inches itself onto his face. “Breathe, baby,” he mumbles, getting close enough that he was inhaling her air, the smell of sweet wine and her shrouding his hyperactive senses, “And you tell me if you want to stop, okay?” 

She responds with a soft, weak, “okay,” and a bob of her head, his previous order on her mind. “Please kiss me, Harry.” Y/n’s eyes are still closed, but her impatience is clear to him when her eyebrows furrow like she’s about to cry and her eyelids crinkle with the pressure she’s putting on them. A rare, mean side of him wants to chuckle, revel in how lax she is for him, but he knows that too much for her right now, and that he shouldn’t tease her anymore. 

“Okay, love. Only because you asked so nicely.”

He’s a little more rough than he needs to be, shutting his eyes while holding her in place by the back of her neck and firmly but slowly sliding their lips together- hers between his-, groaning at the same time that she preens and allows his mouth to move hers, parting her lips and suckling on her top one at a pace that makes her jump right on top of his groin, eager for more and eager to be closer to him. The feeling of their lips meeting feels like running his fingers against silk and lace, or underneath warm bath water that has been sprinkled with velvety lavender salts. 

A cry escaped her when Harry parts from her, panting like he’s just ran a marathon with matching beads of sweat gathering at his temples, distraught from the loss of connection, and her eyes snap open, tears welling quickly, but they only escape when he flicks his wet tongue vertically from her bottom lip to a dainty cupid’s bow, all while keeping eye contact. This makes her yank on the soft chestnut strands of Harry’s hair that were twirled around her fingers, not hard enough for it to even be remotely painful, but the force tilts his head back a little and a drawn out moan ribbons from him. 

Y/n shifts in his lap, arching forward so that the tips of her breasts rub against his chest and while he continues to lick into her mouth, Harry feels that his chest is on fire. Muffled sounds of pleasure interrupt the slicking noises of their lips moving against each other and it’s so obscene that he pulls her tighter against his chest, positioning his feet wider against the ground so he can push his hips off the couch and right into her-

“Fuck me!” Harry groans the words that have been on his mind all night, the same ones etched on his shoes, and rests his forehead against hers, breathing heavily and trying to collect himself. His lower abdomen, just where the head of his cock sits, feels uncomfortably moist, and throbs from the pressure of her pussy that had been sure not even seconds before. It was too much. Too much for him to go through it without embarrassing himself, and just when he’s about to say something, shaking his head defeatedly with a regretful, dull shine in the dark green of his eyes, y/n mewls, restless, and grinds back down onto the thick length begging for release. 

Hissing, Harry’s head falls against the back of the couch and his hands come to grip her hips, stilling her movements. His chest rises and falls rapidly while incoherent thoughts on why he has to stop what’s happening crumble in his mind. “Love,” he pants, “don’t wriggle y’hips like that, s’driving me insane.”

“But I need…” Her words leave her in something less than a whisper and more than a breath, her skin around her neck dotted with perspiration. Attempting to move her hips down again, she’s met with a harsh squeeze from Harry, and both of them know that there will likely be bruises the size and color of graped blooming there in the near future. Her thighs begin to quiver, and she takes her hands out of Harry’s hair to plant them on his shoulders as leverage because the position he has her in is tiring her muscles. 

“What is it, y/n? What d’you need?” The classical music continues, the violins playing a quiet, violent song to match the tone of Harry’s voice, the build-up right before the drop. He knows what she needs, because he needs the same thing, and it’s driving him insane. His balls are tight against the base of his cock, a visible outline of himself protruding against his pants that not even the dark color can hide in the dim, terracotta lighting anymore. With his head still leaning against the back of the couch, his eyelids droop as he speaks to her. “Want to come? Is that it?”

The urgency of her nod makes the headband that was clinging loosely on her head to fall back against the wooden floor with an obtuse clack. Her eyes are wide, glossy. Harry’s spit paints her mouth like a red lip gloss, and his are painted by her saliva, a sparkling champagne. 

Cooing at her, he lets go of her hips and wraps her up in his arms again, pulling her close and nuzzling into her neck as she pushes down on him with no direction, “Oh, angel. All y’had to do was ask.” The warmth of her pussy surpasses the layers between them and shoots straight down to his dick. She lifts herself again, and arches befores sitting again. Having gathered the amount of leverage she wanted, y/n drags her hips forwards, up the thickness of him, and stops just at the swollen head before jerking a bit, a needy moan evaporating on her tongue. Harry clenches his jaw, trying to hold off his orgasm so that he can watch her get herself off while all of their clothes were still on. “S’right baby, use me. Rub y’tight little pussy all over my clothes. Y’gonna come on me? Y’gonna leave your taste on me?” 

Her jaw falls slack at his words. “Yes. God, Harry, yes,” the movement of her hips stutters, delivering a particularly heavy grind over the wet tip so that it presses against the heated skin of his stomach and Harry’s eyes roll to the back of his head, his grip on her hips steady so that he can buck up into her warmth. The crotch of his pants is so wet, and not just from his own precum, but the moisture that has seeped through whatever underwear she’s wearing. And suddenly, suddenly he needs more. Suddenly, he has to see her pussy rubbing down on him. 

“Are you wet f’me, darling?” Hands settling on her lower, exposed thighs in preparation to slide the dress upwards (or away if she doesn’t want to), Harry leans in closer and drags the tip of his nose from her jaw to her ear, where he nibbles on the lobe, suckling it to soothe and particularly hard bite, and whispers into her ear, “can I see?”

“Yeah,” y/n squeaks and looks down at Harry’s large hands and they slowly slide upwards, but never stops moving. Not even as her white thong comes into view, the delicate, pale fabric transparent from her wetness and sticking to her like a second skin. The gift of Harry’s prick slides right between her folds, parting them even through the underwear. A small, pearl-like roundness indicated the location of her clit,  and he understands why her hips jolt everytime they go over the head of his dick. 

Because she’s rubbing her clit against him.  

White spots litter his vision, and by some miracle he doesn’t bust right then and there. Instead he cries out, almost shouting the next time her hips buck against him, but he doesn’t take his off where they meet. The room has become unbearably hot, filled by their sweat, panting and moaning, and jerky, desperate movements. “I’m gonna come, baby, fuck. Let me,” he’s thrusting up, wanting to go in, but knows that it’s not the right time, and so he slips his hand underneath the bunched dress so that he can hold her by the waist and take them both over the edge. Up until that point he had been enjoying watching her use him, take what he needs from him, but now he needs to do it himself because he won’t allow her to orgasm after him. “Let me finish fucking you through y’clothes.”

They move so fast their movements are blurry under the lighting, rutting up and down into each other with a new sense of urgency. Y/n moans every time he nudges her clit, and when he begins to feel a faint pulse coming from her heated center, he grinds against her harder, pulling her down against him in addition to the force of her own movements. He does this once,twice, and then she’s crying, tears actually falling down the side of her face as she jerks in his hold, swiping up and down his crotch in quick, messy moves. 

Her nails cut the skin of his bicep, even through his long sleeve, and the small bit of pain throws him over the edge, his own body convulsing as his balls draw up and that ache that has made his dick stiff exploded into a prickling, liquid heat that shot through him and stained the inside of his pants. Rutting into her a few more times, mindful of her oversensitive whimpers, Harry drags her to his chest and kisses her languidly. It’s messy his tongue tripping on the outer corners of her mouth while her’s is skittish, but it’s okay because they’re both sated and it feels good to be in each other’s arms where they’ve dreamed of being for longer than normal without doing anything about it.

They’re both quiet, catching their breath as the needle trips over and over again at the end of the record, demanding to be turned off. Y/n is nuzzling into Harry’s throat, and a flicker of guilt flashes against his heart, faint apprehension because he knows that they both wanted it, they both spoke consensual words out loud, but he feels he had a little too hard on her. Too rough with his words.  “Fuck, I’m sorry. Was supposed to be a gentleman, but you’re so angel-like and soft, I couldn't stop myself.” He drops his head to the side and kisses her temple, “had to taint you a little bit.” 

Y/n giggles, a response that he wasn’t expecting, fisting his sweater vest in her hand. “Are you always like this?”

He feels that he knows what she’s going to say, but he asks anyway, but to hear her say it.“Like what?” 

“Dunno… um…” her voice decreases in increments, “bossy?”

Harry smirks. “Did you not like me telling y’what to do?”

“I did like it,” she whispers, hiding her face into his neck so that her breath hits his collarbones. Goosebumps are born where her warm air lands, and he chuckles, rubbing her back in slow, comforting circles. 

“That’s all that matters to me. I’m happy I didn’t push you too much.” 

They grow silent again, content. She kisses his neck occasionally, the same spot over and over again until his shoulder hitches up and a breathy laugh leaves him. He leaves one hand on her back and the other trails up and down the hand clenching his shirt, enjoying the way she shivers when he caresses the crease of her elbow. 

Eventually, she sits up straight. “Suppose I should start walking back home,” she mutters, blushing. 

“Walk? Love, you walked here?” He’s shocked, and his grip tightens around her possessively when she mentions leaving. After things went so well? Maybe he was growing attached too fast, but it was hard not to when y/n was so sweet to him, with him. 

She responds like the answer is obvious. “Yeah. I live just down the street remember?” 

Harry shakes his head. “Y’can’t go out there by yourself right now, s’dark and y’have to pass alleyways to get home. I can drive you-” 

“No!” Y/n is quick to interrupt him, shaking her head in denial. “I don’t want you to get up and fuss.”

“Then we’ll stay right here.”

“Okay.” That was easier than I thought, he thinks. He’s not letting her leave tonight, and if he could have it his way, he would like her to spend the night tomorrow as well. 

“And please don’t push me away like that, saying ‘it’s time to go home’. I don’t mind y’being here. I want you to be here more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time, okay?” He pauses so that he can get her understanding (he gets it, in the form of a nod). It pinched his heart knowing that she would be so quick to leave, and he wonders if maybe she had that reaction because she was used to leaving after a hookup (not that this classified as that) and the thought made him sad because he knew firsthand how shitty that was. He didn’t want her to feel that way ever again. “Good. How ‘bout we get out of these clothes and go to sleep, hmm? S’that sound good to you?”

“Yeah,” she says, smiling up at him with stars in her eyes, “yeah, that sounds good.”

And Harry is so full. He’s so full of love and happiness, more than he has been in a long time, and it’s all because of the pretty flower girl in his arms.

******

ngl i had to take several pauses while writing him.... lol....riding.....

anyway, part 3 (the final part) is loading! thank you for being so patient with me and reading! don’t forget to reblog (bc i love reading the tags) and leave any comments you have in my inbox! i love you!!

<3 abigail may

[turningwheeltarot]

Astrological Keywords: The 12 Signs

The signs represent the “how” (while planets represent the “what” and houses represent the “where”)

Aries 

Initiating

Action-oriented

Forward-moving/charges ahead

Strong and brave

Pioneering and futuristic

Desiring

Masculine and penetrating

Instinctive and impulsive

Brash/blunt

Angry

Selfish

Immature

Taurus 

Solid, stable, and reliable

Self-sufficient and resourceful

Persistent/determined and follows through 

Physical and sensual

Beauty- and pleasure-loving

Earthy

Builds/brings into form and maintains

Strong-willed 

Stubborn 

Materialistic

Resistant/fearful of change 

Overindulgent

Gemini 

Fast and active mind

Curious

Communicative/chatty/a writer 

Intellectual/intelligent 

Quick-witted/funny

Busy

Changes and adapts

Learns

Integrates duality

Dishonest

Hyperactive mind

Short-sighted

Cancer

Sensitive and emotional

Caring, loving, and understanding

Nurturing, protective, and supportive

Attuned to inner feelings/needs

Intuitive and empathic 

Seeks emotional safety/security

Creates home/safe space

Sentimental and nostalgic

Moody and highly subjective

Takes things too personally

Childish and/or irresponsible 

Overly attached to past

Leo 

Exuberant and enthusiastic 

Warm and extroverted/engaging

Creative and self-expressive

Playful and fun-loving

Entertainer/performer

Leader

Strong will and presence

Authentic and unique

Seeks recognition and admiration

Self-absorbed

Dramatic and attention/validation-seeking 

Fears rejection

Virgo

Wants to improve/fix/make better

Efficient, productive, and organized

Diligent, thorough, and dedicated

Detail-oriented and analytical

Giving and wants to be of service/use

Tends to the earthly/physical/natural 

Integrates mind, body, and spirit

Purifies and heals 

Perfectionist and control-freak

Overly critical

Neurotic/anxious

Feels guilty and unworthy

Libra

Relationship-oriented/relational 

Peace-seeking and harmonizing

Mediator

Balanced and moderate

Objective 

Starts relationships and conversations

Sympathizing

Shares and connects

Artistic and creative

Indecisive

Out of touch with self/gut

People-pleasing and codependent

Scorpio

Deep and intense

Transforms/evolves

Brings to the surface

Investigates and uncovers

Interdependent

Seeks soul connection/intimacy

Absorbs from/infiltrated by outside forces

Strong emotions/passionate

Power-focused

Secretive and mysterious

Insecure

Overly attached/dependent/obsessive 

Sagittarius

Seeker, journeyer, and aspirer 

Searches for higher meaning and truth 

Freedom-seeking/free-spirited

Philosophical

Adventurous

Expands consciousness

Learns and teaches 

Visionary 

Optimistic

Exaggerative

Dogmatic/self-righteous

Scattered and unfocused 

Capricorn

Responsible, dutiful, and reliable

Seeks material safety/security

Methodical/step-by-step

Hard-working and determined 

Success/achievement-oriented 

Mature

Authoritative/leader

Structures, gives form, and creates boundaries

Traditional/conservative and morality-focused 

Controlling

Cold

Guilty and repressed

Aquarius

Progressive, visionary, and futuristic

Original, unique, and unconventional

Intelligent/genius

Objective and detached

Systemizer, analyzer, and orchestrator 

Freedom-seeking and rebellious/revolutionary 

Collectivist and collaborative 

Recognizes unity underlying diversity 

Cold, overly detached, and impersonal

Know-it-all and elitist

Alienated and misunderstood 

Erratic

Pisces 

Loving, compassionate, and deeply sensitive/empathic

Creative and imaginative/dreamer

Spiritual/mystical and intuitive/psychic

Elusive

Idealist and wants to save/help

Seeks oneness

Surrenders, trusts, and flows

Escapist

Lacks boundaries/naive/pushover

Overly passive

Victim or savior complex

Depressive/despairing and feels unworthy

✨Follow me on Instagram: instagram.com/turningwheel360✨ 

[specialgrades]

hey, do you think you can do a top male reader x sdc dio thats really power dynamic kinky? like, riding crop spanking type of shit. its SO DIFFICULT to find tops x jjba.

bestie i am so sorry for this being a millennia late but i finally got the Juice to write and mind breaking dio is god tier. also reverting back to my ancient ways of third person writing

bottom!dio brando x top!mortal!male reader

warnings: spanking, hair pulling, mindbreak/subspace, kinda ooc dio lol, breeding kink if you squint, reader is a condescending asshat, use of the word cunt, piss kink (self indulgent sorry), breath play, LOTS of degradation, the petname baby used one (1) time, master kink but not how ya think, not proofread lol

word count: 1.2k

dio brando. a man that if nothing else, thought of himself as a god. how did he end up here then?

a lowlife. that's what (name) was. he didn't have a stand nor harmon abilities. dio could easily kill him, suck him dry of his life force to aid his own personal gain. but he didn't. he couldn't. 

“what, have we found something our dear lord dio can't handle?” (name) spat. dio wanted so badly to snap back, but once again he couldn't do it. not when it felt so filthy, so heavenly, so good.

“y-you're just too big.” dio stated dryly. (name) scoffed and dug his nails into dio’s hips. “too big eh? a mortal, too much for you? not very godly of you.” dio sneered over his shoulder, watching (name) with angry eyes. he didn't expect it, but every time (name) would look back at him. most people feared ever looking dio in the eyes; (name) was not most people.

“if it's too much i can stop.” dio let out a muffled whine as (name) halted his movements. “don't you dare.” (name) chuckled darkly and leaned down. “beg fer it then.” he whispered to dio, teeth grazing the shell of his ear.

dio did not beg. he did no such thing. it made him feel disgusting to do so; but he wanted, no, needed (name) to make him feel like heaven.

“beg f’me or i'll leave you here for that damn butler to find ya.” dio held his glare and his tongue. “don't think i will?” (name) asked. he hummed before pulling away from dio’s bent over form. dio held back another whine at this. he hated feeling empty.

he stayed in position and listened to the sound of (name) tugging his clothes on. his hips moved in a silent plea for (name) to return. he heard the door knob twist slightly before speaking. 

“please.” he muttered. (name) stopped, smirking. “what was that, my lord?” he questioned. “please. please fuck me.” (name) groaned. it wasn't much, but asking dio for anything more would be pointless.

“good boy.” 

this time (name) only tugged his pants down enough to free himself before pushing all the way into dio. dio cried out at the sudden intrusion, pushing back against (name)’s hips.

the pace (name) set was gruelling. dio felt his body succumb to subspace as he started moaning more than he did with anyone else. “see? all you had to do was beg f’me to use you like this and you got it.” dio whined in response.

“such a whore. maybe if joestar fucked you like the whore you are we wouldn't be here.” (name) surmised. dio glared at him. “all it takes to get you weak is a cock in yer ass.” dio groaned.

“you're clamping down, baby! like that thought hm? thats all you want, to be stuffed full of cock. if only jonathan knew that.” (name) reached down and gripped dio’s cock. “you were so close, yeah?” dio nodded. “too bad.” (name) thrusted harder and faster, watching dio begin to shake. his other hand reached down as well, pinching dio’s nipple. dio cried out when he felt the cold of (name)’s fingers.

“wonder if your real body was this sensitive.” (name) thought out loud, leaning down to bite around the star on dio’s shoulder. “maybe then i'd split you in two.”

dio began babbling, internally cursing at himself for being reduced to this. as if his own curiosity didn't get him here. so curious about the mortal that didn't fear him or worship him. he babbled something about needing to cum, (name) laughing. “you can cum when i say you can, my lord.”

a dry orgasm wracked dio’s borrowed body, still needing a true release. (name) groaned, loving the feeling of dio clamping down on him like he was trying to hurt him. “need more, don'tcha?” dio grumbled into the pillow his face was pressed into. “don't make me beg again.” he managed, it sounded a lot more sad than it did threatening.

“no, i wouldn't think of it. like i said: you cum when i say you can.”

dio swore he was gonna break. how in the world did (name) start going faster again? abusing dio’s prostate like it was his job. his cock hurt like hell at this point, he needed to cum so bad!

“hm. think you've had enough.” (name) released his grip from dio’s dick, moving to grip his hips like before. “cum.”

one word and dio was gone. his vision went black for a second as he came. (name) stuttered as he felt the orgasm rip through dio, feeling his own end near. first of many as usual, one was never enough for either men.

dio’s body shook as the overstimulation began, (name) still hitting his prostate over and over. “fuck!” he yelled, cock twitching pathetically as the remains of his first orgasm still dribbled out.

“want me to fill ya up, my lord?” (name) at least gave him that courtesy, a choice. dio nodded, desperate to feel even more full. if he could, he'd ask (name) to get him pregnant.

“as ya wish.” a few more thrusts and dio felt (name)’s cum fill his guts, causing him to cum on the spot. “ya love that, slut? came just from that.” dio melted at the breathy tone (name) had during and right after he came.

“shit, i gotta piss now.” (name) said, moving to pull away. dio reached back and grabbed his forearm. “oh?” (name) asked, knowing exactly what dio was asking for.

dio groaned as another wave of warmth flowed through his body. the sigh that left (name) was the cherry on top. dio came again.

(name) laughed. “god, you're even filthier than i thought! came from me pissin’ in ya!” dio jolted when a hand came down on his ass. “whore likes it when i use him like a toilet.” (name) pulled out to watch as the mixture of fluid flowed out of dio’s now gaping hole. another hand came down to smack it. “cunt’s all stretched out and messy.”

dio winced when he got yanked up by his hair. “clean me off, would ya?” dio wasted no time in licking at (name)’s cock. he took the soft appendage in his mouth. he moaned as he felt it began to harden again in his mouth, greedily slurping everything up.

“oh yeah, forgot about this.” dio gagged harshly as (name) pushed him down to the base. “pesky gag reflex.” dio looked up at (name) through his lashes only to have his nose pinched.

“it does feel amazing though.” dio began to sputter and gag more as he struggled for oxygen. (name) groaned as he felt those fangs of dio’s scrape his cock lightly. “you even think of biting me and i'll hand ya over to joestar myself.” 

(name) eventually let go of dio, but not completely. he loved how warm and soft dio’s mouth was, such a contrast to his words. dio thankfully got the memo and bobbed his head, disgusting slurping sounds emitting as he did so.

“fuck, gonna cum.” dio hummed and went faster, hollowing out his cheeks. “wanna paint your face the same as your cunt.” dio moaned again, getting yanked off. “open yer mouth.” dio listened as (name) used his free hand to stroke his cock. he watched hungrily as (name) tossed his head back before cumming all over dio’s face.

“don't even think about resting now, my lord. we're nowhere near done.”

[moonctzeny]

champagne sins

pairing: socialite! johnny x fem! reader

genre: smut

word count: 1,714

warnings: alcohol consumption, slight voyerism, slight degradation

a/n: I blame @sehunniepot for this

general taglist: @naomis-sins , @slightlymore-main , @jjaeyoonoh, @ichbinschnappi, @infnteen , @markresonates , @babyksworld

——————————————————————

You love the way your new designer dress hugs your figure tonight, sparkly fabric reflecting the light and making everything around you glow. You love the way the champagne bubbles tickle your tastebuds with their sour taste, on your third glass already and with no intention of stopping anytime soon. You especially love having Johnny eat you up with his eyes from the other side of the room, his honey-colored stare having an iron grip on you.

Letting your body move on its own accord and with a wobble in your step you walk over to where he’s standing, large body resting sideways on the decorated wall. Johnny’s a socialite, yet if you asked him what he did for a living you’d get a different answer every time. He’s a DJ at the biggest club in town, he’s a reality star, he owns real estate. Maybe he’s one of those pretty boys you pay handsomely to loop your arms around for the rest of the night.

And you don’t blame anyone that would want to have Johnny like this, hard to resist with this combination of tall height, dark locks, and even darker intentions. Tonight, he looks more expensive than all your jewelry combined with those leather pants that melt right over his thighs. He’d left the top button of his satin shirt unfastened, teasing you with his smooth, tanned skin, and you take the first leap of immorality by loosening the second one yourself. You’re endlessly jealous of those pearls for getting to loop around his neck.

“Undressing me before even saying hi?”

“Hi. Now can I do one more?”

He chuckles and you take it as a sign to hook your index on the third buttonhole, revealing the top row of his abs. They’re covered in small glitter particles from last night’s fun and you envision the masterpiece you could create with just some lipstick and your fingernails. A sweet smell hazes your mind further, a mixture of his cologne and that caramel-scented e-cig he likes nursing so much.

He hums while still frustratingly keeping his hands to himself, towering over you with his broad shoulders and crushing the surge of confidence caused by the liquid courage, “What has you so naughty tonight baby girl?”

“You”

He loves having people inflate his ego and you know how to take advantage of this fact very well. He pushes back his long bangs with his hand, wet from the heat in the penthouse and finally pulling you closer with the other. His rings dig right over the dimples on your back, just low enough to toy with what’s considered inappropriate in a room full of people. Not that anyone cares, really; everyone is high on the substance of their choice and Johnny is just simply your favorite of vices.

“Naughty, naughty girl”, he muses and you follow his lips like you’re hypnotized, enjoying the degrading way he kisses his teeth.

“You know, when you pretend to be all righteous it makes me wanna fuck you even more”, you bite back and something changes in his eyes, pupils expanding like a big black hole that’s about to swallow you entirely.

His fingers leave his scalp to now grab onto your jaw, thumb hindering the blood from going to your head and forcing you to look away from the tattoo on his chest. You’re so close now that you notice his tongue is toying with some blue-colored candy, its original spherical shape now being a mere wafer-thin piece of sugar.

“You didn’t have a mouth this dirty last time I saw you”

“I thought you loved my mouth”

He grins at your wits, flashing you the same million-dollar smile that gets him free drinks and pretty people at his feet at all times before finally planting his lips on yours.

You think that out of all Johnny’s beauteous features, his lips have to be your favorite ones. Bow shaped and soft, they beg you to suck, nibble, and bruise them, the other party invitees be damned. His right hand, previously resting on your waist, is now grabbing your ass shamelessly, and he takes advantage of the gasp you let out to press the remaining candy against your own tongue. You’re so preoccupied with the way he twirls in your mouth that you’ve pliantly allowed him to corner you between the wall and his body, and when he starts to lick right over the middle of your throat you don’t know if the room is spinning because of the champagne or him.

“Fuck”, you mutter as your half-lidded eyes stare into the ceiling, a familiar hardness poking the top of your thigh.

“Language”, he scolds you against your skin, with a tone so cold you don’t know how it spreads so much warmth to your body, “Good girls don’t swear”

“What if I want to be bad?”

“Follow me”

“Follow me”

You weed your way between the groups of beautiful people, grabbing a glass of champagne on the way, until you reach what seems to be the door to the party thrower’s office. A big “DON’T ENTER” sign hangs from the knob and Johnny throws it to the confetti-filled floor without the slightest guilt, leading you inside the study.

It’s a spacious room, with full-length windows and a mahogany desk placed in front of a filled bookshelf. You don’t even manage to ask him where he wants you when he starts ravaging your neck again, his big body making you backtrack to the reclining leather chair in the end of the office. Unadulterated arousal pulses through you with every bite he leaves behind, and you push him down onto the seat, momentarily enjoying the view of him sprawled like that just for you.

Impatiently, Johnny grabs the back of your bare thighs, pulling you on top of him, and you quickly start to unfasten his braided black belt. Endlessly entertained by the thought of messing with you, he starts petting over the skimpy fabric of your underwear in an effort to distract you. It works, with your fingers shaking as they try to push his pants below his hips while his own start circling around your swollen clit.

A pitiful sob graces his ears as he pushes your soaked up panties to the side, petting your raw pussy that drips with a mess you’ve made just for him. You move your hand between his thighs in retaliation when he pushes two fingers inside you, working him into his full length as your moans harmonize into the most filthy of tunes.

“Tightest fucking pussy. Dripping wet too. Did I do this, pretty girl? Or was I just your victim for the night?”

“Just for you”, you moan out as you move along with his fingers inside you, your hand gliding easily over his cock with the aid of his precum.

He looks so fucking good like that; all messy and sweaty and all yours that you tug the bottom parts of his shirt away from one another, buttons breaking and dancing all over the floor.

“That was expensive”, he mentions playfully just to tease you, knowing damn well this shirt was nothing compared to Johnny’s net worth.

“And I’m priceless”

You take the glass of champagne that you’d left on the floor and start to spill some of the bubbly liquid over his chest, watching manically as it travels through the lines of his abs. The pale moonlight that seeps through the window kisses the wet skin, making him look irresistible as you lean down to suck the drink from the hollows where his muscles connect. Johnny weaves his fingers through your locks and giggles at the feeling, shivering when you reach his happy trail.

“Had enough of a taste?”

“I need one more thing”, you purr and take a condom out of your purse. He strokes his cock lazily as you open the foil carefully, eyeing you hungrily in the meantime, as if he hasn’t taken a good look at you already. When you’re done slipping the condom over his shaft you line the throbbing member to your opening, mentally preparing yourself for the girth you know is about to come.

A breathy whine leaves your lips when he slips fully inside you, and the way Johnny stretches you out already has you seeing stars.

Languidly but full of pleasure you start to circle your hips over him, enjoying the blinking light of the city that falls to your feet. A fleeting feeling of panic surges through you when you see all the people on the road and the balconies of the lower buildings, feeling even more exposed than you already are.

“Johnny, what if someone sees us?”, you ask him innocently but never once do you stop grinding your hips, making him smile at the empty question.

“I thought you wanted to be bad? Not a good girl anymore?”, he teases and thrusts his hips forward without a warning, making you shriek with how deep he reaches inside you. “A naughty, filthy girl that wants my cock in a party full of guests and with the whole city watching.”

He lifts his hand to drag down the fabric of your top, successfully freeing your chest and exposing you even more, loving the way your boobs look as you ride him.

“You think that just because anyone that happens to look up to see you being all slutty for me I’m not gonna fuck you against every surface in this room?”

You whimper at this promise, and your experience with him vouches that it will soon turn into reality.

“Please”, he scoffs, “you better bounce”

[crystalsenergy]

Edgar Cayce's natal chart: spiritual/psychic abilities - a study

Lilith in 6th house: he is considered the 'father of holistic medicine'. Holistic medicine is an "approach to medical treatment based on the theory that living organisms and the environment work together as an integrated whole". As I’ve already said, Lilith represents hidden powers, abilities, and things that we can have a deep attraction or denial. However, the areas that Lilith touches on represent issues that can be very present in our lives. Lilith in 6th house represents an ability to develop your spirituality in a profound way through the mind, your mind tends to be very spiritual and deeply connected to matters and things that are not seen. Lilith in 6th house also means the possibility of healing people through alternative medicines or mystical knowledge.

Furthermore, Lilith in 6th house brings out a fascination with care and health, making the native feel an interest in knowing the methods of preventing disease, as all the person wants to avoid is having to remedy him/herself.

By doing research on who Edgar Cayce was, we can find a great manifestation of Lilith in 6th house in his life. This website (Association for Research and Enlightenment) states that "Cayce’s precepts on health and the art of keeping in shape are not limited to a diet and regular exercise. For decades, Cayce had already insisted on the role of the mind in people's physical balance and well-being", "Cayce’s readings, annotated between 1901 and 1944, were ahead of his time by mention the influence of attitudes and emotions on health; energy medicine; the importance of prayer; spiritual healing".

"Comprehensive health, according to Cayce, corresponds to the harmonization of the three basic components of the human being: physical, mental and spiritual. The human being must be considered in its totality, body, mind and soul, and not limited to treating diseases for this reason, contemporary holistic medicine is often said to have its origins in the psychic readings of Edgar Cayce."

His Lilith in 6th house was in square to Neptune, which in turn was in the 9th house, creating a great concentration of energy in the area of spirituality. Probably at first, he had difficulties in channeling his psychic energy, his intuition, and knowledge/thoughts about the higher aspects of life, but later this manifested itself better and he managed to add such knowledge (Neptune in 9th house) with his interest in take care of health.

We realize that this interest in health and the conservation of our life is not expressed in the usual way, like a Mercury in 6th house, it is an interest in health and the practical part of our life being expressed with doses of spirituality and deep knowledge about the universe.

Chiron in 9th house trine ascendant in Leo: Initially, we need to say that this placement of Chiron corresponds to a wound and deep discomfort in relation to locating himself in the world. The native may feel that he has never been able to find answers to spiritual, existential questions, which can cause great discomfort. However, as I’ve said in this blog, Chiron also represents where we can heal others and impact their lives. That's because Chiron brings experiences so dense that it makes us aware of certain problems, and even if we can't heal ourselves, ironically, we know how to help others who go through the same or something similar. This aspect of Chiron trine ascendant represents that the questions that Edgar Cayce endured were felt even more intensely about who he was, how he showed himself to the world, and how he saw himself. This aspect of Chiron trine ascendant brings a greater sense of the wounds he had, it means that his Chiron was probably known to him, or he was aware of his issues. Ascendant in Leo made him a prominent figure who received attention when addressing issues relating to Chiron in 9th house.

This aspect (Chiron trine Ascendant) means that Edgar Cayce had Chiron sextile descendant. Therefore, when faced with other people, Edgar Cayce probably felt an even greater desire to seek answers to his inner problems, his existential questions, his dilemmas. As his descendant was in Aquarius, he may have felt a desire to help humanity through his issues with 9th house - spirituality, deeper knowledge about life, spiritual education.

Chiron in 9th house conjunct Neptune: this represents a deep connection with his Neptune placement, which brought him a lot of intuition and interest in existential issues, in the metaphysical, esoteric, spiritual world. Neptune probably helped him a lot on this spiritual journey.

North node in Pisces, South Node in Virgo / North Node in 7th house, South node in 1st house: having the nodes in angular houses tends to mean that the experiences lived during a lifetime involve large areas. It can represent that the native will have a lot of movement and contact with such areas of great importance in our lives. Angular houses are very active houses, which we tend to give more focus and attention to (1st, 4th, 7th, 10th). In the case of Edgar Cayce, he had to learn to have more harmony and to work with his sense of collectivity and otherness.

Since his South Node was in Virgo, we realized that he had a strong disposition in his personality to interpret things in life with a more practical and rational and less spiritual and intuitive look. His task was therefore to become more open to the realm of spirituality and intuition. From what I read about him, I perceive that he achieved this task, and the aura of Virgo did not fail to show itself, because of the strong development of writings, books, that is, knowledge in its practical aspect, practical and material things.

Pluto conjunct midheaven, Pluto square ascendant and Pluto square Uranus. These three aspects with Pluto in 10th house denote that there was a latent potter in his personality that should be placed in his career and life mission. A power to impact people, to change their view of the paths they should take in life from a practical point of view (10th house). Pluto in 10th house was in aspect with two angular houses (AC and MC) and with Uranus, which is a planet strongly linked to collectivity, to social issues.

Pluto conjunct midheaven: this aspect brings a need to make the career a place of transformation, profound changes (Pluto), and such changes tend to be externalized to other people see the results (MC). Pluto in Taurus in the 10th house and Midheaven in Taurus represent this strong desire to achieve an intense change in a certain area, the way the native will live his career tends to be transformative for others. MC in Taurus represents a tact and a sensitivity to be lived in the career. I would say that Taurus is the sign that, precisely because it is connected to the 5 senses, gives natives with Midheaven in this sign the opportunity to work in different areas, because they tend to have a predilection for what involves the 5 senses, sensitivity. Taurus midheaven has a hands-on approach and is more willing to build something solid. In Cayce’s case, his sensitivity represented his ability to channel responses about immortality, health, and reincarnation (Pluto matters).

Pluto square Ascendant: this aspect brings out a very high concentration of energy regarding the way the native sees himself and how he will show himself to others. This aspect represents a possibility of regeneration and changes in personality, in the way of treating and seeing oneself in the physical and mental sense. This aspect brings a lot of possibility to feel deeply the spiritual, psychological issues and simply what was hidden behind what he had contact with, since he had Pluto square descendant.

Pluto square Uranus: very interesting aspect, one of the most interesting aspects of astrology. Two planets with very deep meanings, are extremely strong, bringing up a certain tension, a concentration of energy that needs to be put out but finds difficulties. This aspect brings the fusion of Uranus' desire for freedom, change, critical sense with Pluto’s need to transform and be reborn. Pluto and Uranus together represent this ability to connect with social and human needs, higher mental and critical capacities, and the quest for healing and transformation.

Sun in Pisces in 8th house: very spiritual, intuitive personality, open to the most esoteric and mystical things. Sensitivity, social conscience. Depth, attraction of mystical people and situations, spiritual experiences. Notion of the importance of mental health, empathy, sensitivity. Sun sextile Pluto increases the ability to receive and channel spiritual energy if the person works at it (as he did).

Sun square Jupiter: personality focused on a search for meaning and meaning in life. Person who can be less optimistic. He looks for more practical and logical reasons about things (Jupiter in Capricorn).

[hedgehog-moss]

Good day, Mlle. Hedgehog! If it's no trouble, may I ask for science book recommendations around the tune of Merlin Sheldrake's "Entangled Life"? I've been trying to get back into the sciences after feeling shut off from it bc of my aversion to math, but sparse technical language shuts my brain off like nothing else. This seemed like the place to go. Thank you for your time, and a dozen kisses each to the animal denizens of your farm!

Hello! Kisses have been equitably distributed! And your message reminded me of the C.S. Lewis quote, "I could never have gone far in any science because on the path of every science the lion Mathematics lies in wait for you..."

I have not read Entangled Life, but if you are looking for books about plants / animals / the living world, that give you a new perspective and are instructive but use more conversational (or poetic) prose, here are the first ten titles that came to my mind :)

What a Plant Knows: A Field Guide to the Senses, Daniel Chamovitz

The Lives of a Cell: Notes of a Biology Watcher, Lewis Thomas

If we had better hearing, and could discern the descants of sea birds, the rhythmic tympani of schools of mollusks, or even the distant harmonics of midges hanging over meadows in the sun, the combined sound might lift us off our feet.

Gathering Moss: A Natural and Cultural History of Mosses, Robin Wall Kimmerer

The Intelligence of Flowers, Maurice Maeterlinck (it has one of my favourite Goodreads reviews ever: someone commented “After reading this book, my body feels mulchier and more vegetal.”)

I shall never forget the magnificent example of heroism given to me the other day in Provence, in the wild gorges of the Loup, by a huge centenarian laurel tree. A bird or the wind had carried the seed to the flank of the rock, which was as perpendicular as an iron curtain, and the tree was born there, two hundred yards above the torrent, inaccessible and solitary, among the burning and barren stones. ... The young stem was obliged ... stubbornly to bend its disconcerted trunk in the form of an elbow ... revealing ... the successive solicitudes of a kind of thought. ... What human eye will ever assist at these silent dramas, which are all too long for our short lives?

Beyond Words: What Animals Think and Feel, Carl Safina

The Immense Journey, Loren Eiseley

Every spring in the wet meadows and ditches I hear a little shrilling chrorus which sounds for all the world like an endlessly reiterated “We’re here, we’re here, we’re here.” And so they are, as frogs, of course. Confident little fellows. I suspect that to some greater ear than ours, man’s optimistic pronouncements about his role and destiny may make a similar little ringing sound that travels a small way out into the night. It is only its nearness that is offensive. From the heights of a mountain, or a marsh at evening, it blends, not too badly, with all the other sleepy voices that, in croaks or chirrups, are saying the same thing.

The Hidden Life of Trees, Peter Wohlleben

The Forest Unseen: A Year’s Watch in Nature, David George Haskell

Wild animals enjoying one another and taking pleasure in their world is so immediate and so real, yet this reality is utterly absent from textbooks and academic papers about animals and ecology. There is a truth revealed here, absurd in its simplicity. [...] Nature is not a machine. These animals feel. They are alive; they are our cousins, with the shared experience kinship implies. And they appear to enjoy the sun, a phenomenon that occurs nowhere in the curriculum of modern biology.

Dispatches from Planet 3, Marcia Bartusiak

Boundary Layer: Exploring the Genius Between Worlds, Kem Luther <- haven’t read this one yet, but Robin Wall Kimmerer wrote a positive review and I enjoyed her book Gathering Moss, so I’ve added it to my pile!

If you’re interested at all in cosmology I also recommend Arthur Koestler’s The Sleepwalkers, it’s one of my favourite history of science books; essentially it tells the story of humankind’s evolving understanding of the nature of the universe. The chapter on Galileo’s trial particularly stayed with me.

And on a tangent, this is a book I liked about how maths deserves better and how disastrously it is taught: Paul Lockhart’s A Mathematician's Lament: How School Cheats Us Out of Our Most Fascinating and Imaginative Art Form.

I don’t see how it’s doing society any good to have its members walking around with vague memories of algebraic formulas and geometric diagrams, and clear memories of hating them. It might do some good, though, to show them something beautiful and give them an opportunity to enjoy being creative, flexible, open-minded thinkers . . . You think something practical like compound interest is going to get them excited? People enjoy fantasy, and that is just what mathematics can provide . . . We’re killing people’s interest in circles for god’s sake! . . . Mathematics should be taught as art for art’s sake. These mundane “useful” aspects would follow naturally as a trivial by-product. Beethoven could easily write an advertising jingle, but his motivation for learning music was to create something beautiful. . . . Mathematics is the music of reason.