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just-here-for-the-moment · 3 years

Text

Word count: 3900+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: It’s Father’s Day again, and you and Whiskey are trying to revive your sex life. Based on the fic “An Unexpected Occasion” with permission from @quica-quica-quica Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x “You” (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: oral sex/M receiving; oral sex/F receiving; unprotected P/V sex in the context of established relationship; use of clitoral vibrator; medium-level bondage/wrists and ankles/F receiving; medium-level impact play (spanking/hands/leather flogger) F receiving; light throat play/hands on neck/F receiving; a smidge of lactation kink; one instance of Jack calling himself “Daddy”; Jack running his FILTHY mouth; mentions of pink champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries

---

Things hadn’t been exactly dead in the bedroom since your daughter was born, just a little slow and awkward. Jack had taken to fatherhood like a champ, cuddling and cradling the baby in his strong hands when she made her appearance just before midnight on New Year’s Eve. You had nothing to complain about, outside of the usual hormonal shifts and new nursing mom adjustments. Your pregnancy had been textbook-healthy, and other than refusing to sleep through the night, your 6-month-old baby was sweet and easy. Her gray irises and peach-fuzz hair had darkened since birth, and now she was a copy of her daddy, all dark eyes and dimples. The only thing you missed from your “before” life was the higher frequency of good-quality sex with Jack.

You knew from your own work with new moms that it sometimes took months for new parents to get back into the swing of things, but it had still been a rude surprise to find that you and Jack were so tired and busy with parenting that it sometimes took a whole week or more for you to find a mutually-agreeable time to get busy. It sucked, and you missed him.

Just like last year, Jack was out on assignment the week leading up to Father's Day. Valentine's Day this year had been a total bust. Both of you were so wiped out that you had spent the evening bickering and then passed out on the couch in front of an action movie at 8:40 p.m. before waking up at midnight for a quick fumble. Your birthday in April had been similar. You had taken the baby to Grandma's for the evening, and instead of having a romantic dinner out, you had gotten into a minor fender-bender and spent the evening with a heating pad on your neck while Jack argued with your auto insurance company's 24-hour hotline.

So you decided that since it was Father's Day and you were feeling a smidge less tired, and a pinch more sexy, you would use Jack's week away to prepare for a mind-blowing weekend. You bought new bed sheets, got your hair and nails done, and ordered some items online that you hoped would spark his interest again and lead to something playful and fun: lengths of soft, specialized bondage rope, a leather flogger, and a new vibrator, shaped like a tongue with a little divot on one side to cup your clit.

A nurse at work had turned you on to the device, claiming that the soft silicone and specialized shape had given her better climaxes than she’d ever experienced with 30 years of bullet vibes. At least that was one good thing about being in the business of having babies; nobody was shy about sex or the human body. You had plugged it in to charge and took the time to read through all of the instructions, holding it against your hand to feel the different levels of vibrations. You wanted to save the test run for Jack’s return; you were eager to see what he thought of it.

You also chose some lingerie that seemed fairly forgiving for your post-baby body: a black babydoll nightgown with hot pink lace, and a sheer robe and slippers to match. As a labor & delivery nurse you knew better than anyone what pregnancy did to women's bodies, but it was still a little upsetting to see the odd bumps and rumples on your torso that didn’t seem to want to shift. You figured (hoped anyway) that when Jack saw the effort you were going to, he wouldn’t care what “flaws” were hiding underneath the gauze and lace. An hour before Jack was due home, you showered and dressed in your new lingerie. A box of chocolate-covered strawberries and a bottle of pink champagne were chilling in the fridge. Now you just had to wait.

Jack arrived home right on time, and you sprang up from the couch to greet him at the front door. He lumbered inside with a groan and dropped his overnight bag in the foyer. You didn’t give him a chance to remove his hat before you were rushing to embrace him. “Jack! Baby, I'm so glad you’re home.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so glad to see you. Where’s the baby?”

You let go of him and stepped back so that he could take in your new outfit. You spun once to give Jack the full view, and then stepped up close to give him a kiss.

“She’s at Grandma’s for the weekend,” you murmured against his lips. “I have champagne in the fridge, and some surprises for you for Father’s Day.”

Jack chuckled and groaned at the same time. “Oh, honeysuckle. That sounds divine, and you look amazing.” He kissed you and slid one hand down to grab your ass. “Is this my surprise?”

You laughed. “Part of it! Come with me, cowboy.”

You led him to the bedroom and made him sit down on the bed. He toed his boots off and started unbuttoning his shirt. You knelt behind him on the bed and rubbed his shoulders as he undressed. “I’m so glad to see you Jack. Are you in the mood to mess around?”

He stood up and turned to you as he removed his pants. “You tell me, sugar.” He slid his tight jeans off and you saw his erection straining against his briefs. He chuckled at you as he stood in his undershirt and hat.

“Oh yeah,” you waggled your eyebrows at him. “I’m so glad you’re home, Jack. We have a lot to catch up on.”

He threw his hat on the dresser and leaned over you to plant kisses to your cheeks and neck and collarbone. You leaned back and he lay on top of you, murmuring against your neck and hair as he nuzzled you. “What’s new, pussycat?”

“Oh, well…” you hummed contentedly. “I did some shopping, got my nails done, bought this new nightie…”

Jack moved down to nuzzle your cleavage. “I see. And what’s underneath? Is that for me, too?”

“Oh, of course Jack. And I got some new toys that I hope you’ll enjoy playing with, too.”

“Is that so?” Jack pulled back and smiled at you. “Can I see?”

You grinned and nodded. “Let me up.”

Jack rolled away from you and you practically bounced over to the closet to retrieve the large gift bag you had put together. He sat up on the edge of the bed and took the bag from you with a raised eyebrow. “Heavy,” he commented.

He reached in and pulled out the leather flogger first, a wicked smile spreading across his face. “Oh, honey, you know just what I like.” He ran his fingers through the leather falls and then slapped it once, lightly against the bedspread. “Well that’s going to be fun.”

You threw your head back and laughed. “Keep going. There’s more in there.”

Jack reached into the bag and pulled out three bundles of soft bondage rope in pearl gray, white, and black. A soft “Ohhh, I see,” fell from his lips. “You need to test my rope skills, keep me fresh? Is that it?”

“Well it never hurts to practice.” You winked at him. “Keep going, there’s one more thing in there.” You clasped your hands together and waited for Jack to set the rope down on the bed. His hand disappeared into the bag one last time and he pulled out a small white satin drawstring bag; the storage bag that the company had included with your new “device.”

Jack frowned as he opened the bag and pulled out the black vibrator. “What’s this?” He cocked an eyebrow at you.

“A new vibrator. Very advanced technology, and it’s rechargeable and waterproof! Seven different vibration patterns and each one has five different levels.” Jack let out a long, low whistle at that.

You wiggled your eyebrows at him again. “You wanna play, cowboy?”

“Oh, honeybee. I thought you’d never ask.” Jack reached an arm out to circle around your waist and pull you closer. You put your hands on his broad shoulders and leaned down to kiss him as his hands cupped your ass.

The two of you melted together and time slowed down. You had missed this, missed him; missed the easy intimacy that you had shared so much of before the baby came. He felt familiar and good and strong under your lips and hands, and you felt like you had all the time in the world to reintroduce yourselves to each other.

Kisses turned into groping, and you stopped Jack only once to remove your robe and heeled slippers. When you stood before him in just the nightgown and the matching G-string, Jack ran his eyes and his hands appreciatively over your body. You suddenly felt silly that you had ever imagined that Jack would care about any postpartum changes. This was a man who was covered in scars and dings of his own from years of a physical job, he wouldn’t care that you were softer in some places and more wrinkly in others. He just wanted to love you.

You leaned over Jack to reach for the white bundle of rope, and offered it to him as you kneeled down between his legs. You tugged at the waistband of his underwear and he lifted his hips to help you get them off. His cock sprang free and you moaned at the sight of it, taking it into your hands and mouth to lavish attention on him. Jack unwound the length of rope as you kissed and caressed him, then he reached down to pull your wrists up above your head. You pulled off and looked up at him with a smile as he expertly wrapped your wrists, palms pressed together in a prayer position.

He looked down at you with a gentle smirk. “I didn’t say you could stop, honey.”

You hummed out a laugh and bent your head down between your elbows, going back to work with your mouth. Jack leaned back slightly to give himself room to finish wrapping your wrists. When he was done he gave it a tug. “Too tight?”

You pulled off long enough to say, “Just right, baby,” before diving back down to try to swallow him all the way to the back of your throat. Jack groaned softly as he put his large hand across the back of your neck. The broadness of his fingers and the warmth against your skin made you shiver. You hummed out a little noise of pleasure and Jack suddenly hissed and moved his hand under your chin to lift you up off of him.

“You keep going like that, honey, and I won’t make it to the good stuff.”

You smiled up at him, lips slick with saliva. “Well, where do you want me, cowboy?”

He put a strong hand under each elbow and helped you stand. “Why don’tcha lie down and I’ll return the favor for a while?”

You nodded and switched places with Jack, lying back on the bedspread and letting him open your legs. He ran one warm hand up your calf and opened your knee, then repeated the movement on the other side. He kneeled on the soft rug next to the bed and leaned his head close to your crotch, flipping the hem of your nightie up and back. He stroked your lace-covered mound with his fingers.

“Oh, baby, you look gorgeous. So pretty for me.” He placed his open mouth on your panties right over your clit, pressing down to make a seal with his lips before he breathed out gently. The sudden warmth of it made you shiver, and you moaned out his name. Goddamn him; he always knew how to ramp things up to 100 when you least expected it.

Jack hooked your G-string to the side and slid two thick fingers into you, crooking them just right to brush against the spongy spot behind your pubic bone. You arched your back and moaned again. “Jack! Jesus, warn a girl first.”

“Oh but that wouldn’t be any fun, honeysuckle.” His voice was low, all honey and velvet. “You got me all these nice surprises. I thought I’d return the favor.”

He crooked his fingers up again and you squealed as your hips bucked. Jack’s free hand came down on the inside of your thigh with a sharp slap, just above the knee. He smoothed the impact with a warm stroke before running his fingers higher to pinch the inside of your thigh, right where you were most ticklish. You groaned out a laugh as the pinch shot sparks of pleasure and gentle pain to your core.

“You better hold still, girl, or I’ll give you something to moan about.” His words made a rush of wetness seep out between your labia. He pinched you again, gentler than before, and followed it with a kiss to the tender spot. His mustache tickled you there, and you gasped out a giggle.

“Oh, yes sir! I’ll be a good girl.”

“Good, that’s what I like to hear. Now stay still while I concentrate.” He removed his fingers and hooked the elastic waistband of your G-string, pulling it down and off before diving back in with his lips and tongue and fingers, working you open. You felt liquid drip down between your crack as he devoured you, his digits pulling more wetness out of your core as his tongue and lips pushed you open and over the edge. You gasped as you came, trying your best to stay still as you clenched around Jack’s thick fingers. The silken ropes around your wrists strained but held tight. He really was good with a rope.

Jack kissed and petted you softly as you came down, murmuring sweet words into your soft folds. “That’s my good girl, so wet for me... I love this pretty pussy… you have no idea… so good for me… you pretty girl, gorgeous girl...” He placed one last, loud, wet kiss on your mound and then stood up. You smiled up at him as he leaned over you, bracing himself on his fists as he lowered his mouth to yours. Jack was all things at once; soft and warm lips under a cold and damp mustache, his own masculine cologne mixing with your scent on his mouth. The combination and the echoes of your climax made you lightheaded.

Jack stood up and wiped his face off with an open palm. “You ready to play, honeysuckle?” He winked.

You nodded and were surprised at how clear your voice sounded, given how fuzzy your head felt. “Yes, please.”

He grinned at you and gripped your upper arm with a firm hand, helping you sit up and scoot back to recline against the pillows. He grabbed the length of black rope and secured your left ankle to the corner of the bed frame, then did the same with the pearl gray rope on your right ankle. Jack’s movements were swift and gentle, and when he was done you gave your legs an experimental tug. You were spread open and secured in place; you weren’t going anywhere.

“Oh, Jack. Have I been a bad girl?” Your voice was high and playful. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Jack smirked at you as he picked up the black vibrator and turned it on. “It’s not what you did, honeybee. It’s what you’re gonna do.”

His words pulled a gasp from your throat and sent a new rush of slick to your pussy. You moaned a low, needy sound as he kneeled on the bed between your legs and brought the vibrator gently to your clit. You bucked and moaned, feeling the silken bands of rope tug against your ankles. Jack put one large palm on your thigh to hold you still. He nestled the flat tip of the vibrator into the folds surrounding your clit and positioned it so that the shallow divot cupped the sensitive bud.

You were suddenly rocketed into another plane of consciousness as a surprise orgasm wracked your body. Chills crept up the backs of your thighs and down over your nipples. The keening, high-pitched wail that reached your ears surprised you; you hadn’t even realized that you had cried out.

Jack petted your thigh softly as he pulled the vibrator away, keeping it pressed feather-light to your outer labia. “That’s my girl. Good girl.”

You came back to yourself slowly, floating back into the room as you opened your eyes. Jack smiled at you with satisfaction that verged on smugness, like he had just solved a puzzle. He turned off the vibrator and tossed it gently on the bed. “You alright, honey? Did that do something for you?”

“Jesus Christ, Jack. Fuck… oh my god… oh, fuck me…”

Jack smirked at you, “That good, huh?”

“I’ve never come like that in my life. Jesus Christ…”

He crawled up over you, pulling your bound wrists above your head as he kissed you. You felt your breathing return to normal as he explored and probed your mouth with his eager tongue. One strong hand held your jaw in place as the other squeezed and groped your breast. You felt something damp and warm trickle out of your nipple.

“Oh, Jack. I’m leaking a little.” You laughed. “Sorry, it’s been a couple of hours since I pumped for her.”

Jack let go of your chin and worked his mouth down to your cleavage. He opened the split cups of your nightgown and cupped one breast while he brought his mouth to the other, talking and murmuring to you between sucks and licks. “You know I don’t mind, sugar… so sweet for me… you like it when Daddy tastes your honey-sweet milk?”

You guffawed. “Don’t call yourself that, please. It’s weird now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honeysuckle. Should I stop?” He looked up at you and winked. “You can call me ‘sir’ again if that feels good.” He worked his way over to the other breast and suckled some more. You felt a spurt of milk leak out as he gently rolled your nipple between his front teeth.

“Hell,” he kept going, laving the stiff bud with the flat of his tongue, “... you can call me all sorts of mean names if you just let me keep tasting you like this.”

You threw your head back and moaned. Jack let go of your nipples and positioned himself at your entrance, lining up and diving in with one swift movement. You both moaned in unison and gasped as he pumped into you. He felt so good, so stiff and heavy inside of you as he rocked you gently with his hips. The ankle restraints tugged gently at your feet, reminding you of the delicious, vulnerable position you were in.

“Jesus, honeybee… you feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock.” Jack grunted as he thrust into you. “You gonna be my good girl? Take my whole load?”

“Yes, Jack! Yes… I’ll be your good girl.”

He thrust up into you harder, pistoning his hips and shaking the whole bed. He pumped a few more times like that and then lifted himself off. “Turn over for me, sugar. Let me spank you with that new whip.”

You nodded enthusiastically. Jack reached down and released each ankle, and then helped you flip over onto your knees. You braced yourself on your elbows with your wrists still bound, and the sight of the bright white ropes against your skin sent a delicious shudder down your nerves, stiffening your nipples and raising goosebumps on your shoulders.

Jack kneeled behind you and spanked your ass cheek experimentally with an open palm, gauging your reaction. You let out a soft, “Oh…” at the first several slaps. He increased the pressure, sending your hips canting forward a few inches as you moaned.

“Oh, Jaaack…” you breathed out the words. “Oh, you’re so good to me.”

Jack picked up the flogger and brought it down on the other cheek. His first whips were soft, barely harder than a tickle. He was waiting for you to guide him. “Harder,” you urged. He smoothed your buttocks with his warm hand and then brought the leather strings down with a crack that sounded sharper than it was. You egged him on, “Harder, I said. Make it count!”

Jack gave you one solid crack and you cried out. His voice was gruff and sandpapery. “Like that, sugar? You like it when I spank you?”

“Yes, Jack. More… please.” You rocked your hips back and lowered your shoulders to raise your butt higher. “Give it to me. Please, sir.”

Jack alternated open-palm slaps against your ass with strikes of the short whip, lashing you until your cries reached a squeaky high pitch. He stopped and smoothed his warm palms over your skin, then leaned down and lavished open-mouthed kisses on the area.

“You nice and wet now, honey? You ready for me again?” He pressed the head of his cock to your slick entrance and paused.

“Yes Jack, yes please. Get inside of me.”

Jack thrust inside of you, hard, and it sent your head reeling. He skated one big, warm, flat palm over your sweetly abused ass, murmuring praises at you as he pounded steadily into you. You raised yourself back up on your elbows for stability.

“You’re my fucking dream girl, you sweet thing. Can’t believe I got so fucking lucky with you…” He gripped your hips with both hands as he pounded into you, then he leaned over to growl into your ear as he wrapped one large hand around the front of your throat.

“You like that, you fucking dirty girl? You filthy little angel? You’re such a sweet girl, letting me fuck you like this.”

You leaned forward just an inch, increasing the pressure on your throat as he continued to grunt into your ear. The sensation of his warm breath on your ear combined with the delicious feeling of his thick fingers around your neck, and you felt yourself clench around his cock.

Jack’s speech started faltering, interspersed with thrusts and groans. You knew he was getting close. “You-” his breath hitched. “Fucking... fucking pretty girl. Fucking-” He groaned again. “...goddamn gorgeous girl… Fuck!”

His hand tightened just a little around your throat and you felt your pussy clench again, sending him over the edge. He let go of your neck and bent over your back, resting his sweaty forehead between your shoulder blades as he rocked into you. You felt him, hot and sticky against your skin as he released into you.

You collapsed onto the bed and he lay on top of you. Your breathing slowed together as you both came back to Earth.

---

“Was that a good welcome home?” You leaned over to Jack’s side of the bed and held a chocolate-covered strawberry up to his lips. He took a bite and moaned. You giggled contentedly and tapped the rim of your champagne flute to his. He nodded at you and swallowed, washing the bite down with a sip of pink champagne.

“Yes, sugar, thank you. That was amazing.” He wrapped his free arm around your shoulders and pulled you close. “I know it’s been a rough year, but I feel like we’re getting back on track in the bedroom. I’ve missed you like this.”

You looked up at him and smiled. “I missed you, too, Jack. Happy Father’s Day.”

--- Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

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#pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent jack whiskey daniels

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watermelonlovershigh · 3 years

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Bisexual Harry (MILD SMUT w/ MOSTLY FLUFF)

ATTENTION- THIS IS STRICKLY FICTIONAL (NOT REAL). I'M FULLY AWARE THAT HARRY HAS NOT CAME OUT AS BISEXUAL AND WANTS TO BE UNLABLED. I ENJOY BI HARRY FANFICS BUT THERE ARE NOT MANY OUT THERE SO I DECIDED TO WRITE ONE. ALSO THE TRAITS I WILL BE CONCIDERING AS BISEXUAL TRAITS ARE FULLY DEPENDENT ON THE INDIVIDUAL. I HATE STEREOTYPING. JUST KEEP IN MIND THAT JUST BECAUSE HARRY DOES THESE THINGS IN THIS STORY THAT IT DOESN'T MAKE SOMEONE BISEXUAL OR EVEN GAY. LASTLY I'D LIKE TO SAY THAT I'M NOT BISEXUAL MYSELF BUT THE IDEA OF BEING WITH A MAN WHO IS, IS A TURN ON. NOT IN A FETISH TYPE WAY. JUST THE VULNERABILITY AND OPENNESS OF ENJOYING EITHER WOMEN OR MEN IS INCREADIBE TO ME. THANK YOU AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY.

Harry told me early on into our relationship that he was bisexual. He was so nervous that I would leave him, but it just made me fall more in love with him. He told me late one night about 6 months into dating, on his couch. The second he told me, Harry broke down into real raw tears. The first time I'd seen Harry actually cry. Yeah I'd seen him cry during sappy movies but this was so much more than that. These tears had fear in them. Fear that I would leave him. They had vulnerability in them for being so open. But also a weight was lifted off his chest, just happy to tell me. I held Harry in my arms and cried with him, telling him how much I loved him and that this doesn't change anything. That I loved him just as much.

Only a few people in Harrys life knew he was bisexual. His close family. His close friends. That was it. If it got out in the media, the internet would have gone wild. Of course there were many rumors about his sexuality. Most of them being that he's gay. For the longest time he actually thought he might be gay. He had a lot of 'gay tendencies': painted nails, feminine clothes, pearl necklaces. But he also had very 'mainly tendencies' like watching football and drinking beer with the lads. Harry was just so conflicted all his life. Not knowing what he was. That's until the age of 18. One of his school friends came out as bisexual and that's when it clicked for him. He liked both male and females and he was okay with that. He excepted that part of him. He was more worried about what others would say or think. His family was very supportive. His friends were too. They never treated Harry differently knowing that they were straight and he was sexually attracted to them. Well not so much them specifically because they were more like brothers, but the male species as a whole.

Being in sexual relationships were on a new level of fear for Harry. Fear that when he was having sex with a guy, that the guy would try and convince him he's actually just gay. Or the fear that any women he had sex with would say he wasn't manly enough for them. Needless to say, Harry kept his sexuality a secret from most of his one night stands or short term relationships. He just didn't feel the need to tell them unless they asked specifically if he was bi or not.

Me and Harry meet at a local club in London a few years back. He was with his bandmates at the time. I was by myself because my boyfriend of 2 years just broke up with me. I was devastated and needed to escape reality. That meant drink until my body went numb. Unfortunately for me though, I wasn't that much of a drinker so my body rejected the alcohol pretty fast. I stumbled onto the London streets trying to get fresh air but ended up puking my guts out in a near by bin. Harry just so happened to be outside at that moment and saw the whole thing before his eyes. He rushed over to me and pulled my hair back to prevent more vomit from getting in it. Then he asked if I was alright and who I was with. I told him I came there alone so he insisted I come back to his place. Because my brain was fuzzy from the alcohol, I didn't hesitate one bit. Harry set up his guest room for me and helped me to bed that night. Something I'm forever grateful for. If it wasn't for him, I could've been kidnapped and raped by a stranger on the streets. When I woke up the next day, I realized who's house I was in. All of the music awards on the shelf in the room I stayed in gave it away. I was never a big fan of One Direction, no reason in particular, so I didn't act like a fangirl would have. Before I left his house, he gave me his number to call if I ever needed someone to talk to. Considering he was an international popstar and all, he sure was the most genuine person I'd ever meet. Taking care of a complete stranger and even giving them his phone number. I never thought I'd actually call him though. Or even see him again, but about a week later, I ran into him at a local coffee shop and we started talking form there. The rest was history.

We hung out all the time. He invited me to a few One Direction concerts. Even had sex a few times. Amazing sex I might add. It truly was great. Even though at the time, I had to remain secret from the public. More so said by Harry then his management. Mainly to keep me safe and out of the media knowing how private I liked to be. Three months of seeing each other and he asked me to be his girlfriend. I was thrilled. Then six months into our relationship, Harry realized how serious our relationship was becoming. That we both had strong feeling for each other. So that's when Harry decided to tell me he was bisexual. On his couch. Late one night. He wanted to get it out of the way so he didn't have to hide that part of himself with me. So he could be himself around me. If I excepted him that was and of course I did.

Approximately two years after dating, Harry purposed. He was basically shitting bricks the whole time, but he did it. I didn't hesitate one second before I said yes. We were in love. At this point, the media had found me and Harry out. Most of his fans adored me. Some said our relationship was fake. And others just flat out said I was keeping Harry closeted, not allowing him to be gay. But I knew the truth. I knew he was bisexual, not gay. I never doubted his sexuality one bit. Especially how he devoured my body when we made love. Any gay person would probably gag at the sight of a women's pussy. Not Harry. It was his favorite part of my body. A year after Harry filmed the movie Dunkirk (2017), we got married. It was a small wedding. Just close family and friends invited. It was perfect.

Now here we are in the current year of 2021 and we're still going strong. A few fights here and there, but because both Harry and I have too big of hearts, we always feel bad after fighting and immediately apologize to one another. The media had tried to split us up multiple times but it's never been successful. Our love for each other is too strong and everlasting.

Just because Harry is in a happy, loving heterosexual relationship, doesn't mean he feels completely secure about his sexuality all the time. In the beginning of our relationship, Harry tried to completely throw away any 'bisexual' tendencies he had even though he knew I supported him. For instance, there was many times Harry wanted to paint his nails but didn't. Or would refrain from gushing over sexy guys in movies we watched together. That's when I noticed he was becoming depressed. He stopped writing music. He would disengage in activities we tried to do together. Even pushed me away when I tried to have sex with him. I felt hopeless. Until one morning I asked him what was wrong, and he spilled everything. How he tries so hard to suppress the bisexual side of his character for me. For our relationship. Harry explained that he had the desire to paint his nails vibrant colors and wanted to wear feminine clothes sometimes. Something that was particularly hard for Harry to confess to me was how he even wanted to try anal. On me or me with a strap on fucking him. Right away I made us an appointment to get our nails done at a salon. Then I told him he could wear a trash bag and he'd still be the most beautiful mainly man I'd ever seen. Lastly, I grabbed my laptop and went online shopping for female strap ons, letting Harry pick the girth and size he wanted. Yes I was a little nervous to actually fuck him, but he assured me he would help me out every step of the way. As for anal on me, I mentioned how I would be nervous but how I also trusted him. Trusted him enough to penetrate me anally. That I knew he would be extra careful with me.

Needless to say, I made Harry more confident. Confident in his sexuality. I got him to come out as bisexual to the public. I let him explore his bisexuality in the bedroom. Though of course he still worshiped my pussy. We had weekly appointments to get our nails painted. Harry even wore a dress out to a date night one night. He was super scared and on edge the whole night but I kept whispering in his ear how I couldn't wait to rip that dress off of him and fuck him in the ass until he cried out of pleasure.

I honestly loved that Harry was bisexual. It was almost like a turn on for me. He was both a gym buff and my little princess. He had thick arm muscles and toned abs, as well as pink nails and pearl necklaces. Anytime he mentioned how hot a guy on tv was, we could gush over him together. Or how sensitive and vulnerable he was at times. A lot of guys hold in their emotions, thinking men can't express their feelings, but not Harry. If he felt the need to cry, he would. Right in front of me. It could be triggered by a sad movie or a animal abuse commercial. Also, on the rare occasions he asks for it, I would fuck him with the strap on in his mouth. Though a rubber penis didn't quite taste like the real thing, salty mixed with sweat, he loved to deepthroat it anyways. Watching him choke and gag around the fake penis made my pussy drip. We even bought a strap on dildo that had a vibrator on the back side of it. That way every time the fake cock would enter his mouth, the vibrator would stimulate me clit, giving me pleasure as well.

No matter how much the media tried to convince Harry he was in fact gay and didn't actually like women, he would ignore the rude comments and prove to me everyday that he in fact loved me. Me as a women. Loved my smile. Loved me eyes. Loved the way my boobs bounced while having sex. Often grabbing them in his hands and stimulating my nipples. Loved the way my tight pussy felt around his dick. Or the way my sweet juices tasted on his tongue when he ate me out. Yes he loved dick. Yes he loved balls. Yes he loved being railed to death from behind. But he also liked vagina and he loved boobs. Harry wanted to make love to me and get me pregnant. Watch my stomach grow. Be there to hold my hand when I deliver the baby. Help change diapers at 3 am when I'm to tired to do so. Teach our kids to love and respect everyone and be themselves. Be open to our kids about his sexuality. Give them knowledge on bisexuality and educate them on the matter. Instead of assuming they are straight by asking his future son if he has a girlfriend yet or asking his daughter if she has a boyfriend, Harry will ask if the have a partner or fancy anyone in particular. Love his children for who they are or who they want to become. Be a role model for them. And live happily ever after with me, his supportive wife, by his side.

MASTERLIST

#bisexual #lgbtq #lgbtq+#bi #biharry #biharrystyles #bifanfiction #smut #fluff #love #married #harrystyles #harry #onedirection #1D #1d #husband #wife

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pinkpurpleblue-writes · 4 years

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You’ve Got Mail (1998)

Summery:

You’ve Got Mail stars Nora Ephron and Tom Hanks as Kathleen Kelly, the owner of an independent children’s bookstore passed down from her mother, and Joe Fox, a member of the Fox family who runs “Fox Books,” a Barnes and Nobles-esque big box retailer. As Fox opens up a new store in New York's Upper West Side, it threatens Kathleen's independent "Shop Around The Corner." While they verbally spar and go head to head, their online personas (ShopGirl and NY152, respectively) are falling in love online through, of all thing, email and AOL instant messenger. About halfway through the movie, ShopGirl and NY152 agree to meet, Joe realizes her real identity, and, instead of revealing what he knows, starts to slowly build a cordial, then friendly, then romantic relationship with Kathleen in real life too. The "Shop Around The Corner" eventually closes down and, at the movie's climax, NY152 and ShopGirl agree to meet again. Joe expresses his feelings towards Kathleen in person on the day of the meeting and, at the meeting spot, they kiss, happy that the people they fell in love with online were the people they fell in love with offline too.

Review:

You've Got Mail is a delight nearly all the way through. Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan have amazing chemistry together, and both actors are extremely emotive throughout, with expressions that show the full range of feelings that each character is going through. The late nineties setting is almost perfect for those seeking escapism nowadays, with the sweet spot in between the end of the Cold War and the beginning of the "Forever Wars." The film is easily broken up into three Acts with a strong structure, divided among the seasons of Autumn, Winter, and Spring.

In between scenes of conversation and action, we see Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks emailing each other, seeing their screens and hearing the content of the emails as voice-over while the recipient reads it over. It's done exceptionally well, especially when contrasted with the problems some modern films have with showing text messaging onscreen. It's much more reminiscent of something like Victorian Era letter exchanges than anything cold and electronic.

The soundtrack is woven into the movie skillfully, with "Signed Sealed Delivered I'm Yours" and "Over the Rainbow" being particularly notable. The costume design is lovely, transporting you into the time period with Meg Ryan's clothes especially. The film touches on themes of relationships, family, and identity, but doesn't delve as far deep as it could have. It also abbreviates the "enemies to friends" part of Hanks and Ryan's relationship too much in my opinion, but the movie was already a decent length.

Politics:

The time period does come with some drawbacks, as the setting and plot allow for some peak 90s neoliberalism that is reminiscent of the first two seasons of "The West Wing," with the core politics of the film muddled at best, seemingly attempting to sidestep it at all costs. The few non-white characters (most prominently Dave Chapelle playing Joe's best friend) have little personality and less screen time, and the only non-straight characters turn out to be the fiancé of Joe Fox's father and the nanny she runs off with, both of whom get about a scene of screen time and a mention of their sexuality near the end. Fox Books brings to mind the Goliath that is Amazon, which itself helped put Borders out of business and has done the same to an immeasurable amount of independent book stores.

The relationship the film has towards capitalism itself is murky, with the most left leaning character (Meg Ryan's boyfriend-turned-ex, Frank) portrayed as a wannabe intellectual, but having Kathleen shoot barbs at Joe about status which he seems to be aware about. All in all, it reads as an attempt to not offend either side too much while still appealing to apathetic nineties twenty- and thirty-somethings who felt disenchanted with all of politics.

The film itself also has some misogynistic points, with Joe Fox's girlfriend, Patricia, being a particularly good example of a double-standard. Frank and Kathleen break up amicably after becoming more distant and are shown to be friendly after. While Frank and Patricia are show in similar lights through much of the movie, the second act has Patricia shown as emotionless and ruthless, seemingly due to her being more career-focused and driven. Some parts also haven't aged well, with a bit too much focus on appearance by the male characters and a scene where Tom Hanks refers to a woman as a "bitch."

Conclusion:

Overall, the letter is a love letter to the mid-to-late nineties, with all the good and bad that brings. I enjoyed it immensely and I still do, but it might vary depending on the level of escapism you're willing to withstand and how much you're willing to excuse due to when it was made.

Selected Quotes:

“Is it infidelity if you're involved with someone on email?”

“Keep those West Side liberal nut pseudo-intellectual bleeding heart-” “Dad...”

“Do I do it because I like it? Or because I haven't been brave?”

“Matt is my father's son, Annabel is my grandfather's daughter. We are… an American family."

“Oh the joys of rent control…”

“Do you ever feel you become the worst version of yourself? That a Pandora's box of all the secret hateful parts -- your arrogance, your spite, your condescension -- has sprung open”

"What is it with Men and the Godfather?"

"I said we were a goddamn Piazza"

"Pride and Prejudice? I bet you read that book every year, I bet you just love that.. Mr. Darcy and your sentimental heart just beats widely at the though that he and um… well, uh, whatever her name is, are truly honestly going to end up together?"

"Oh, you poor sad multimillionaire, I feel so sorry for you" and "You are nothing but a suit"

"Remember when you though Frank might be the Unabomber?"

"I am in… Vancouver"

"He ran Spain"

"Why don't we bomb Fox books"

"…and in a week it will be something really depressing, like a Baby Gap"

“...the astrologer, whose moon turned to be in someone else's house, as I recall."

"I am so sick of that. All that means is it wasn't personal to you. […] What is so wrong with being personal anyway?"

#You've Got Mail #romcom #1990s

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levs-mindspace · 5 years

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Chapter two!!!

Paranoia available on Wattpad now!!

That night has been stuck in my head ever since. I slept the night in the store straight into the opening of the next day after I was too scared to go home.

Yes, this story was strange to someone from the outside, but for a witch in New York? It was a death sentence. Think of this: Teen Found dead with Crosses covering her body after she posts runes reading ad online. Even: 19y/o crucified while burnt with own sage in central park.

Living as a witch lately has been more dangerous than ever. These people never knew what was coming since they were some of the first victims, but there have been over 10 killings in the past six months from what the police think is the same man. They have close to no leads to who it is, but I would pay actual money to say it was the man that came here last night.

Who knows maybe he even is a witch come to exterminate the rest of us and his bad tarot skills were just him playing dumb. He sure as hell knew what card to pull out to make me paranoid about him, that's for sure. After some thinking, I left a complaint with the police about a man in my shop. Hopefully, they can find this guy before he finds me again.

I slowly made my way out of the back of the store and into the actual shop portion. I sell everything from deity sculptures, to blank notebooks, to runes and more. If you need anything spiritual, you will find it at The Inner Light.

When I approach the door to turn on the open sign, I notice someone out front. Actually, they are leaned across the bench, almost waiting it seems. After last night, I wasn't taking any chances with strange visitors. I took one of the heavy glass wands off the shelf and armed myself with it before I checked who it was. I slowly reach the handle and open the door... just to find Sarah, my employee, laying outside, presumably waiting for the shop to open so her shift will start.

As quick as I can, I wake her up, bring her in from the cold, wrap her in a blanket, and sit her down in the back. She is in no shape to work right this minute. Especially since it was my anxiety over this man that caused me to oversleep here and forget to open anyways.

"So," Sarah started off with," you haven't been late opening in months, what caused you to now?" I recanted everything of the last night's events to her in extreme detail, yet I left out which card it was and just told her I forgot to check.

As if just to prove my earlier point Sarah muttered, while trying to warm herself even more with the blanket, "It would be kinda scary if he actually pulled the death card out wouldn't it?" So I felt the need to correct her.

"No actually, most of the time the death card actually stands for breaking off old habits and relationships. It's mostly good, but of course, it depends on the circumstances, like always,"

"Oh. well whatever he pulled, I don't even care if its the seven of hearts..."

"Sarah that's not a tarot card"

" I DON'T CARE, whatever he pulled, you deserve a day off from what that man put you through. You go home and I can handle the store today, look!" she said while pulling off her blanket, "I'm not even cold anymore."

Sarah was a nice girl and all, but was she truly capable of handling the store? I mean I live just upstairs anyway. I practically am home.

"I don't know, what if he comes back?" I questioned. if he came back, especially with a knife again, she would be defenseless. She is only new to our coven as well, she knows close to no defensive spells.

"I may not be as magically inclined as you, but I'm a big 6'1 woman, I think I can handle a little man," she joked and laughed. "Seriously though, I'll be fine."

"I'm really trusting you with this one, and thank you," I told her. It will be a relief at least. Hopefully, that relief will overtake my anxiety.

Eh, hope is overrated anyway.

After packing up from the shop, I decided to do a little 'window shopping.' There are multiple mystic shops in New York, but I've always dreamed of being the one that people would go to first. Right now people only come to me for my fortune telling, not the shop itself. So everyone and a while I go to some different shops, posing as a customer, and see what they have that I don't. It's close to always effective.

I decided that my first shop of the day would be Lucky Lucy's. She specializes in crystals, which I do not. I love studying them and have a few of my own, just I don't sell as much of them.

As I walk in, the strong smell of sage hits my nose right away. I thought I burned strong stuff, I was wrong, so wrong.

The walls were lined with every crystal imaginable: Amethyst, citrine, bismuth. Heck, she even had refrigerated gallium at one point, and that's not even a rock.

I had to say, it was impressive. But no matter how good it was, I wouldn't be able to take any tips from it since I don't sell crystals, so I bought some obsidian for my personal collection and left.

I began walking down the street when I had the sinking feeling I was being followed. Luckily from being a woman in New York, I had previous experience with this feeling so I pulled out my safe button. Basically, if I lift my finger off the button it notifies police and ambulances.

I tried to take a longer route, hoping to lead whoever was following me off track. Yet the feeling stayed with me.

I couldn't sense this person's aura though, which threw me off, was I imagining that there was someone?

CRASH

I jumped so hard I slammed my head into the side of the brick wall next to me.

After I fell, I believe I blacked out for a second, because I felt a small tongue licking my face when I came to. It turns out I was being followed by a small black cat. This would explain why I couldn't sense an aura as well; I was never good at telling Animals.

I know it is stereotypical for a witch to find a black cat, but I feel connected to it somehow. Maybe I finally got myself a familiar? But who knows. It's random chance to actually get a familiar that wasn't passed down through your family. Ever since the Satin Puikus Ragana scandals, familiars have been in hiding, maybe it's far time for them to come out.

The puikus Ragana is the highest form of witch possible, but you only become one after you are chosen by the gods. It's said that they have to bathe in the moon, which causes them to shimmer blue in their hair and eyes. After they bathe, they become immortal and fit to raise a coven. In the '70s though, the gods chose a man who was crazed, Satin Browning. He led up a coven that tried to overtake communities and killed all that did not join him. It was a mess within the witch community. Satin disguised himself as a familiar to gain entry into the covens. He listened to learn their secrets and then killed them. Afterward, most people abandoned or cursed their familiars.

This cat though, I assume is just a stray. Anyways, it deserves a good home, it looks starving. Its ribs are almost popping out of its skin at this point. I pick it up and surprisingly, it lets me. It meows at me softly and purrs the entire way back to my shop. Maybe if I keep her in there, her owner will find her? It's a shot in the dark but if it works?

As I approach my shop, she jumps out of my arms, and for a second I thought she was gone forever. Gone to see her owner somewhere. But she sat at the door waiting for me, Almost as if she knew that's where I was already going.

Maybe I have a familiar after all...

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mybodyliberation · 5 years

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Wed2B Edinburgh Bridal Review

It would be foolish for me to say that every little girl dreams of trying on wedding dresses because that's simply not true; and to be honest it wasnt until I was about 17 that I would lose myself in hour long day dreams about my future husband and my dream dress.

But those day dreams started when that iconic tv show Say Yes The Dress aired and I found myself fascinated and captivated by satin, tulle, ball gowns and boho sheaths.

So needless to say after years of having not so secret pinterest boards I was prepared and exited to embark on the adventure of finding my dream dress.

Now a few pieces of information about me to get the ball rolling and for reference for the rest of the post and future wedding dress posts.

• Leading up to visiting Wed2B Edinburgh, I had never tried on a wedding dress before.

• My everyday clothing size sits between 18/20

• None of this is an AD, gifted or sponsored in anyway.

• All of these views are my own opinion

• I will also have a short vlog series in the next few weeks documenting my my wedding dress shopping experience for both dress and accessories.

Now that we've got that out of the way let's get down to business, obviously not to defeat the huns but in fact to discuss wedding dresses, any Disney nerds with me?

Now I did all of this in my most recent week off from tour and I did that because if it so happened I needed to order a dress from scratch waiting even an extra 6 weeks until I finish tour meant less time for ordering and alternation etc and keep in mind that with a wedding date of 4th April 2020 only 8 months away that doesn't leave as much time as you think.

Depending on the store and the designer you could need an entire year to order to a dress in advance and so really the earlier you look the better.

This isnt to say you could find something with limited time but it also does mean your limited in your options.

If you are planning to leave things a bit later then actually Wed2B could be an option for you. The reasons behind this are to follow.

We visited the Wed2B Edinburgh store on Wednesday 10th July 2019. As I said it was a perfect time to go because it was my week off and it meant we could go during the day.

I honestly can't recommend this enough because truthfully with a set up like Wed2B going later in the evening or at the weekend is guaranteed to be extremely overwhelming.

This is because this is a no appointment system. You turn up, wait to be seen my a stylist and the process begins there. I can imagine that during busy periods it could take hours to be seen, but we arrived at 2pm.

We were greeted by the lovely Esther, who explained a little bit about the store and what would be happening.

I imagine each stores layout will be different but in Edinburgh each rail represented a size and they start from a size 6 to 30. We were told that depending on the style and cut of the dress it could mean you would need to size up so unfortunately if you're a size 30 and up, I dont know how accessible the dresses will be but it's always worth turning up and trying the dresses on to see.

The rail that I needed was one that had the size 18s onwards. It was one singular rail and there actually wasnt that much of choice. I had named to Esther the dresses I specifically wanted to try on because I had seen them online but they were sold out.

That's another thing there is definitely a demand for their collections which has a lot to do with the fact that the quality is actually great and the prices are low and they do cater to a large amount of sizes. This means that brides will be doing their research, finding the store that has the dress they want, tracking it down, trying it on and purchasing it on the day because theres no guarantee that the dress you try on will be there the next day.

They have deliveries every week but it doesn't mean it will be the specific dress you're looking for or your size. Also their limited collections tend to sell out within weeks especially if the design of the dress happens to be what is popular at the moment. For example they have a design that looks very similar to Meghan Markle's wedding dress that was in the shop window, this was sold out and within two weeks and that's that.

When we got to my rail it seemed there wasnt that much in terms and options, and considering three out of four of the dresses I had seen online and wanted to try on weren't available, I wasn't too hopeful but I used this as an opportunity to try on a dress in each style.

You have a four dress try on maximum which seems like it wouldn't be enough but for an first bridal appointment turned out to be perfect. Anything above four dresses for your first time in hindsight would have been way too overwhelming if I'm honest with myself.

So knowing I could pick four dresses I decided to try something in each style. Ballgown with sleeves (my preferred style of choice), A Line, fitted (mermaid), and another ballgown but with off the shoulder straps. I didn't try on any sheaths because there were none in my size but also it felt too far from what I wanted.

Once we picked the dress it was explained that the way it worked we would come back in an hour. You see because it's no appointment, it means that the stylists work with brides on a sort of rolling system. While one bride gets welcomed and makes selections, another bride is trying dresses on with another stylist. It's not a perfect system but we weren't too upset.

Esther took my number and myself and my mum and sisters went to go and have some tea while we waited and there was only one bride in front of me anyway so it didnt seem like the end of the world to wait.

When we came back we were greeted by Esther again and introduced to MC Ruth who ended up being the stylist actually putting dresses on me.

She was such a sweetheart and out the gate asked me how I was and if I had any major concerns which as a bride I think is important but as a plus size bride is even more important because there might be a lot of insecurities and fears at play.

I was blessed to not have any in that particular moment, I was just excited to get trying some on.

As I said they suggested sizing up from your everyday clothes size. So we decided to start with the dress that I liked but they only had in my regular size of 18 (this was star) I wanted to see the off the shoulder style but was also curious to see how small a size 18 in bridal would actually run.

Now we were actually able to get in with not much trouble and I think that honestly had a lot to do with the corest back which gives a lot more room than something with buttons or a zip might have. Though keep in mind if you end up in this situation and loving the dress, you might have to get the panel extended in the back.

I loved the sparkle and the tulle and though the off the shoulder was cute it just wasnt what I envisioned myself walking down the aisle in.

I'm glad I tried it on but it wasnt what I was looking for.

The next two dresses I tried on were the ones completely out of the style I wanted. One satin A Line with with lace embroidery across the waist and then a fitted mermaid dress with rauching across the bodice. Both....were just not what I wanted.

The first A Line dress instantly aged me because of the high neckline and the boxy cut over all. I got in trouble with Pastor J for joking and saying it was like I was a divorcee wanting to get a no fuss dress for a registry. This was probably my super un-PC way of saying it aged me. I felt like someone else entirely in that dress and I honestly couldn't wait to get it off me.

The latter dress was a surprise because in my head I was adamant I wouldn't like a fitted dress for a wedding (though I love them in any other circumstance because I'm here for a bit of body-ody-ody) but I thought I looked great. I just didnt look bridal. In fact it reminded me a lot of one of my costumes from my time in Aladdin and I didn't want to say yes to a dress that reminded me of playing a part.

The last thing you want to feel on you and future bae's special day, is like you're playing a version of yourself you dont feel comfortable with.

NOW the last dress, Kate. That was a contender. It had so many qualities that I had considered. Beautiful lace sleeves, a tulle skirt and the waist line fell in just the place I wanted it to.

When I put it on we all gasped because it was so beautiful. I felt beautiful and bridal and got a bit teary...but I also felt really overwhelmed because as much as I loved it....it just wasn't the one.

I truly felt beautiful and I loved how much my mum and my sisters loved it but in that moment I felt so strongly that it wasnt it. I thought I cant find THE dress is one shopping experience but in hindsight it wasnt what was holding me back, I just didnt feel like myself yet.

It was so so close, close enough for me to put a deposit down, close enough for me to know that if I had to end up tracking it down in my size in a different Wed2B I would....but I felt strong in my gut and my spirit that my search wasn't yet done.

I knew that if I left feeling settled and not second my guess that it wasnt right and that rang true as I got home and looked at the pictures again....the search was still on.

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