I think people are too worried about returning their library books late and not nearly worried enough about returning their library books fULL oF SAND
I'm glad you had a nice trip to the beach, thank you for sharing it with me and the 30 minutes I have to spend fishing out every last grain from inside the plastic outer jacket!!!!
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living in a kind of tailor made hell where the seaguls are so so fucking loud for so many hours every morning beginning at like 4am but if i close the window i will die of being cooked alive
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"Ah the temperature has dropped down to 27 degrees, finally cool enough to walk my dog! "
*puts on a black waxed cotton Kim Kitsuragi themed bomber jacket*
"I'm still a bit too warm. Oh well. Can't be helped."
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as swimsuits start appearing in stores i want to remind all my bush girlies not to give in. bush hair poking out out of your bottoms is sexy. we WILL take big bikini wax down
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I need more of needy Bucky who loses control from the feeling of being inside your pussy. I need him to fuck me like a rag doll and to carry me over his shoulder around the house like his personal flesh light.
Fuck, this has always been one of my very favourites to write. I really like to imagine that he struggles to last but he can keep going after he finishes 🙈 it's my lil filthy fantasy
But imagine spending the morning in bed with him. You both wake up around 6am and you spend the first little while just touching and chatting before a couple of hours of sex. Now it's maybe around 11am and after lying there together for a while, you're both in the mood for something to eat.
You pull a robe around you and that's just about as much as you manage before Bucky's scooped you up, carrying you to the kitchen.
"You don't need to carry me everywhere!" You tease, remembering that he'd carried you up the stairs to bed last night too.
"I know. But. Carrying you means. I. Can put you. Exactly. Where. I want you." He peppers kisses over your face and neck, tenderly capturing your bottom lip between his before he sets you up on the kitchen countertop.
There's no point arguing with him so you sit there quite happily. He makes up a quick pancake mix, washes some berries from the fridge, preps the coffee machine and sets the little dining table for the two of you.
Somewhere in between, you got a little distracted, perched on the counter scrolling on your phone. You hadn't noticed the way he's looking at you.
He's so caught up in the little things; the way the light hits your shoulder, the curve of your hips, the way the silhouette of your nipples are visible against the satin robe.
"Look at you, sitting there all sweet like your cunt isn't so fucking full of me."
That's got your attention.
You squirm a little, your body fluttering at how shamelessly vulgar he's being but nothing's stopping you from doing the same.
You spread your legs, exposing the slick mess coating your inner thighs. It's a mixture of your own arousal and Bucky's cum, dripping out of your sensitive cunt.
Your fingertips trail lazily over your exposed sex, your skin glistening in the natural light before you bring your fingers to your own lips, sucking them clean, giving him a little bit of a show.
"Tastes amazing, sweetheart." You groan, noticing the growing bulge in his thin pyjama bottoms. "But I lost track of how many times you came inside me this morning. You came so deep, most of your cum won't have dripped out yet. Bet I'm still totally stuffed full."
He sinks to his knees in no time, settling his head between your thighs, breathing in the faint smell of your arousal. His tongue presses flat to your sex, trailing from your hole to your clit and back, gathering as much of your combined release as possible.
He groans, low and pathetic, allowing his tongue to dip inside you as deep as he can bury it. He savours every drop of cum he earns back from your body.
When his tongue alone isn't enough, he slips a finger into you, followed quickly by a second, curling them against your sensitive inner wall.
"Bucky baby, please don't make me cum again." You groan, your fingers tangled in his dark hair but you know he's not giving you that choice. Not when his free hand is furiously stroking his own cock, desperate to ensure that when he's finished licking his cum out of you, he can flood your cunt with another load.
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july side quests:
- buy a peach from a stand by the side of the road. (isn’t it sweeter than anything? i love you.)
- sit in a cool creek on a hot day. let it run over and around and through you.
- grieve.
- say “it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity that’ll get you.”
- get too damn drunk off of something sticky-sweet made for 17 year-olds to swipe at the barbecue, giggling. cry.
- sit out on the porch and watch the thunderstorms as they roll through every day before dinner. (we needed the rain, didn’t we?)
- grieve. it hangs in the air with the steam rising off of the pavement. breathe it in.
- disregard what your mother told you about electricity to stand tallest in an empty field and watch the heat lightning on the horizon. (i’m sorry. i know i shouldn’t. i love you.)
- stare into the night sky until something stares back. (there’s dipper, that’s the only one i could ever find. say hello)
- teach someone you love how to pull apart honeysuckle, petal-pistil-stamen-nectar-tongue.
- grieve. catch a firefly. let it go. (there are fewer of them than there used to be, when we were kids. i love you.)
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