Some platforms brag about thousands of premade characters. I'd trade all of them for one companion I actually built. SweetDream's depth of creation means the single character I made beats any menu.
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Getting myself a Harry styles vibrator this weekend because I don’t manage to get one night only concert tickets and I need to spend my money on soemthing 😋😓
A/N: Because I haven't been around and I couldn't pass up the opportunity of this glorious news, we're so lucky to have gotten!!
Word Count: 5.5k
Warning: Size Kink, Phone Sex, Masturbation, Talk of Sex Toys.
They say distance makes the heart grow fonder. But the only thing distance seemed to bring you was the constant dull ache between your thighs every time you heard Harry’s voice at the other end of another late-night call.
So what was another to add to the longing…
It had been nearly a month without him, and you both were feeling it, you thought as the blue light from your phone screen cut through the darkness of your childhood bedroom, casting shadows across posters you had never bothered to take down. It was past midnight when you last checked the screen, which meant it was early morning in London. But neither of you seemed to care about the time anymore—not when it had been twenty-seven days since you had touched him last.
“Tell me about your day, love,” Harry asked, voice flowing through your earbuds, warm like honey, with that British drawl that still made your stomach flutter every time his deep voice filled your ear. You closed your eyes then, picturing him in the flat you shared, probably sprawled across the sofa, his shorts riding up his thighs, ready to go on that run he kept saying he was going to go on.
“Mom made her famous lasagna. I literally had like three servings…” You whispered, curling deeper into your snug blankets. “You know my Dad asked about you again. Wanted to know when you were going to join me?”
“Soon, love, I’ll book my flight as soon as I finalize everything for this new launch. Which should be in the next few days,” he promised, a smile taking his tone. “Speaking of which... did you get my package?”
Your eyes flitted to the unopened box sitting on your dresser. The FedEx label marked with the Pleasing logo, which you had been saving for your call. “May…be.”
“Maybe?” He asks, his laugh soft, but conspiratorial. “Come on, Darling. Open it.”
“What is it?”
“Something for the new Pleasing line. Need your expert opinion. You know how I always like to run things by you.” Then you rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see you.
Ever since he had expanded beyond nail polish into wellness products, he had been using you as his unofficial focus group, and at this point, you had seen it all. “There was a little weight to it when I set it on the dresser earlier. Is it another meditation candle? Please tell me it’s not patchouli again.”
“Just open it. But—” he interjected quickly, voice dropping lower, “go somewhere private first. Just in case…”
“Harry Edwards—I swear… what did you send me?” With your curiosity stirring, you swung your legs out of bed, and your bare feet met the cold hardwood floor, and you grimaced. “This better be worth getting out of bed for—”
“Trust me.”
“Hmm… Those sound like famous last words,” you murmured, grabbing the box and heading toward the bathroom. “You know, most boyfriends just send flowers when their girlfriends are away.”
“Well… Most boyfriends are boring.”
And you laughed as you locked the bathroom door behind you and set the phone on the counter. “Harry… I’m locked in my childhood bathroom past midnight, about to open a mystery box from my boyfriend…seriously, dude…”
“I said it would be worth it… swear…” Your eyes are trained on the box, but there’s something in his voice—anticipation, maybe, or something more, almost mischievous as he asks. “Are you alone?”
“Unless you count the forty bottles of Bath and Body Works lotions my mom refuses to throw away.” You tell him, while locating scissors from a drawer, and then slice through the tape. “Seriously, this woman never throws anything away.”
“Focus, babe.”
“I am focused. I’m—oh, there’s tissue paper. Fancy. Is this lavender-scented? Very on brand.” As you rustled through the purple paper, your fingers hit something solid wrapped in velvet. “Harry, this presentation is intense. Are you launching jewelry now?”
“Keep going.” He urges.
And you eye the velvet bag that is heavier than expected, arching a brow. “Okay, so it’s definitely not earrings. Unless you’ve gone full avant-garde and—” That’s when the words die in your throat as you pull out the contents, silence now taking way.
“Love? You there?”
But all you can do is stare at the object in your hand, your brain short-circuiting. It’s definitely a gift... very substantial. Very well thought out… realistic, even, and somehow very, very familiar, in a bizarre, twisted way. Suddenly, you’re wondering how the hell you ended up at this point in your life… because just staring at it, on the phone with your famous boyfriend on the other end of this call, which you rarely thought about that part, so it really didn’t matter, but you were thinking about it now, the kind of pull he had in most of life’s situations. Yet, still, even if none of it mattered, this had your brain everywhere, and all you could think was, how fucking random.
“So,” Harry nudged, holding back his laughter, “what do you think of the prototype for the new line?”
“Harry—” You tried, but your voice came out strangled.
“Yes?”
“Oh fuck—is this... wait—did you make a dildo—like this is what you’ll be selling?”
“Yeah, babe. I just told you it’s for the new line, silly. It’s amazing, right? Revolutionary casting technology. Very innovative, they say.”
Your brain was still spinning, barely taking in his words, and you held it up to the light, your face burning at the sight—the size, the slight curve, even the— “Oh my god.” You blurt.
“What?”
“This is you. This is literally you.” Your words tumble out in a shocked whisper. “Like, this is YOUR... Harry, is this a mold of your dick?”
That’s when his laughter exploded through the phone. “Took you less time than I thought. I didn’t think you would recognize it—”
“What? Are you kidding me… after all the time I’ve spent on my knees for you… Babe—I’m more than acquainted with the original model,” you interrupted, then immediately wanted to crawl under the sink, feeling oddly shy. “I can’t believe you did this.” You felt dizzy, the shock still there because how many people were going to get their hands on this? And suddenly all you could picture was this perfect object filling the space between a bounty of legs, giving the boundless pleasure you knew he was so good at giving, and maybe in a squeamish, strange way, there was something about it that was turning you on…
Then Harry was cutting through your thoughts, “Technically, the design team did it. I just provided the, uh, inspiration.”
“Inspiration,” you repeated flatly, then burst out laughing even though you were a tangled mess of emotions and curiosity. “You made a mold of your fucking penis and mailed it across the fucking Atlantic. That’s—that’s actually insane.”
“Is it though? I thought it was quite romantic. Now you won’t have to miss me as much.”
“Romantic? Harry, you sent me a replica of your—” And you gesture wildly even though he can’t see you, accidentally dropping it, and you watch as it hits the tile floor with a thud, wobbling back and forth like an inappropriate metronome made of silicone and girth.
“Oh shit… it just slipped out of my hands!” You narrate, feeling like the thing is taking on a life of its own all of a sudden.
“You dropped my dick? That can’t be a good sign.” He jokes, scandalized, but you could hear him fighting the laughter.
“Technically, I dropped A dick. The jury’s still out on ownership rights.” And you stare down at it on the floor. “Though I have to say, the way it landed was very you. Even your silicone doppelganger has the perfect comedic timing.”
“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”
“Of course you would...” You tell him, bending to pick it up, now testing the weight in your palm, and honestly, it was surprisingly well-made, every vein and ridge there, the attention to detail enough to make you blush. “So this is really going to be in the product line? You’re really going to mass-produce your... cock?”
“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds a bit narcissistic.”
“A bit?” you countered, turning on the tap and running warm water over it without thinking.
“What are you doing?” He asks with interest.
“Cleaning it, obviously. It’s been in a box, traveling internationally. Your dick’s been through customs, Harry. Do you know how many hands have touched this package already?”
“Please don’t phrase it like that.”
“It’s too late. I already have the visual. Dude, your package has been thoroughly handled by government officials.” And you grabbed the closest thing to unscented soap you could find and worked up a lather, stroking up and down. “I hope you declared this properly. ‘One manufactured penis, for personal use.’”
“Commercial use, actually. And I’ll have you know it was all very professional.”
“Professional—yeah—” you repeat, watching soap bubbles slide down the length as a vision of Harry in the shower crosses your mind, bringing back the many times your soapy hands had been wrapped around this very length. “Right. Because nothing says professional like making a mold of your—”
“It’s for sexual wellness,” he interjects, but his voice has gotten lower, raspier. “The describing line is ‘Pleasing yourself like you mean it.’ It’s empowering.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” you asked, gripping the girth as you rinsed it off, then patted it dry with a hand towel, reminiscent of the times you had dried Harry off after a quick fuck. Back then, you wanted to show him how much you appreciated him and all his glory. Now that feeling was returning, a new tension building through your body. “And here I thought you were just missing me.”
“I am missing you.” He pushes, all playfulness gone, leaving you with the same longing that already had your clit aching. “Every day. Every night, and god, baby, especially at night when I want you next to me in bed.”
Fuck, it’s crazy how quickly that longing could turn into wanting, something primal, as the bathroom narrowed with each passing breath, until it was just the glow on the screen and the warmth of your thoughts flooding the space. Here you were, all the way across the sea, leaning against the counter, holding his gift—because that’s what this really was, wasn’t it? The most Harry gift possible: cheeky and sincere in equal measure, yet completely functional.
“Yeah—Twenty-seven days,” you breathed.
“But who’s counting?” you both said it in unison, an old joke that didn’t really feel funny in that moment. Because right now, you needed this man who was whispering to you at the other end of this phone. That’s when the contemplation began as you turned over his gift in your hands, marveling at the weight… the texture. “It’s actually... really well done. The color’s perfect. The size... exact... like scary exact, and now I’m wondering how this ever fit…” You told him, trailing off as heat climbed your neck.
“Exact?” He asked, voice breathy.
“Yeah…” You forced, tone barely above a whisper as you ran a thumb along the edge, remembering everything—every detail, every time he made you come on this brilliant dick. “It’s almost... god, this is weird to say about a sex toy, but it’s almost perfect. Like, if I closed my eyes...”
“If you closed your eyes?”
“Baby…” You whispered, feeling that longing stretch and pull so tight in your chest that it hurt. “I miss you…”
He exhaled, his breath a slow drag in your ear, “I miss you too, baby.”
You smiled, eyes watery, staring at the phone as if he could materialize. Then your eyes flicked to your reflection in the mirror, tracing your flushed cheeks, your teeth sinking into your lower lip, as your hand gripped exactly what you knew would satisfy you. Holy fuck, when had the bathroom gotten this warm—your need for him this intense—growing, and spreading through your body, and echoing to the tips of your fingers.
“It feels so real,” you admit quietly. “The weight of it, the way it fits in my hand. You did such a good job, baby. This is... this is almost good enough to use.”
Neither of you spoke, letting the silence stretch between you, growing more and more taut with the endless possibilities looming before you, like a fucking live wire buzzing in your hands, waiting for one of you to just way it.
“Baby?” he rasped, voice wanting.
“Yeah...” You answered, feeling his wordless ask, because you felt it too, as the decision contracted to a single action in your mind, even though you didn’t think you would be brave enough to go through with it. “Should I try it?”
Harry sucked in a sharp breath. “Will someone hear you?”
The curiosity had started like a hum, then all at once, your pulse started beating in your ears as your heart picked up at the thought. “Everyone’s asleep downstairs. The whole family is practically on the opposite side of the house,” you told him calmly, trying to tamper down the nervous, giddy excitement of trying something new.
“Can I...” he started, then paused, clearing his throat, and you hear him shift, probably sitting up. “Can I please watch?”
For a long bated breath, his request hung between you, that low hum buzzing over your skin. This was crazy, right? You thought. This was absolutely insane. You were in your parents’ house for Christ’s sake, in the bathroom you used to take bubble baths in as a kid, holding a perfect replica of your boyfriend’s gorgeous dick, and actually considering...
“Okay—” you breathed out before you could lose your nerve. “Switching to FaceTime… Give me a sec…”
As your fingers shook with the motion, you were trying not to overthink everything as the call disconnected, and for a heart-studdering moment, you held your breath, watching his face fill the screen before your eyes. He was in bed, shirtless, hair a mess with that look you had seen so many times, as his thumb swiped over his bottom lip. Your gaze roamed over the screen, taking in all the details you had missed as the lamp beamed a golden glow across his tatted chest, highlighting the butterfly tattoo you had traced with your tongue so many times, you had lost count.
“Hi,” he said softly, green eyes dark with a want only you could fulfill.
“Hi…” You answered, timidly, trying to prop the phone against the mirror, hands still shaky, wanting to catch the best angle. “Can you see okay?”
“It’s perfect… You look perfect already, darling,” he whispered, and you observed his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, hand moving below the screen slightly. “I’ve missed your face.”
You smiled then, positioning yourself in frame, feeling very aware of how unsexy your old sleep shirt and disheveled hair must have looked, holding what was essentially him in the palm of your hand. “Is this a good view?”
“Yeah, babe… I can see everything, thank you, baby.” He tells you, and fuck, his voice is so sweet, already taken with your little effort, his hand still moving out of shot. This was the part that made doing these kinds of things so easy. You loved how uncomplicated it was to please him, how you could probably just say a few words, and that would be enough… but this—
This felt exciting, something you guys had never done, something you needed, because there hadn’t been a single day that you hadn’t thought about his dick inside you. Now that need was pulling between your legs, ready to open up in every way that you had never allowed yourself before, at least not like this, not as personal as pleasing yourself before the eyes of someone else.
It was scary, it was vulnerable, it was fucking thrilling, and you were so turned on.
“I’m already so hard.” He confessed.
The confession was like balm to any needling nerves, only amplifying the thrill as it shot straight through you, and pooled at that gnawing pulse low in your belly. You had been apart too long, had wanted each other too desperately, and when you met his eyes through the screen, your decision was made.
“Show me?”
Harry didn’t hesitate. He adjusted the camera without pause, holding the phone steady in one hand, angling it just so. There he was, hard and ready, his fist already curling at the base, his thumb stroking the underside as he watched your reaction with a focus that made your stomach lurch with need. He was always beautiful, but never more than when he was like this, pre-cum glistening like a speck of glitter at the tip, his need already apparent by the way he was stroking his dick.
God, you missed him. Missed that fucking cock, and how it felt inside you, the way it stretched you open and left you shuddering after. The thought had you squeezing your thighs together, hand moving between your legs, ready to relieve the ache as you pressed two fingers against your clit and began to rub a slow, gliding circle over the cotton of your panties. “That looks so good, baby. I miss you. I miss you inside me.”
“You like what you see?” He asked through a gasping breath of pleasure, “You look good too, I bet you’re already getting so wet.”
Your eyes were trained on his hand. Trained on the fluid movement of his grip from top to bottom, stroking the length of his dick with a tender grasp, “Yeah, baby, already so wet. I want you so bad—can feel it through my panties.” You told him, slipping your fingers into your underwear. You let out a breathless sigh as soon as your warm fingers finally met the flesh of your pussy, and you dipped your fingers near your entrance, dragging the wetness up to your center, starting to work it through your folds with a small moan.
“Let me watch you take your panties off, love. I want to see how wet you are for me.”
You stepped back into frame, catching his green eyes as his face filled the screen, and you both locked eyes while you shimmied the soft fabric down your thighs, letting them drop and hit the floor, and when you stepped out of them, you lifted the front of your shirt, giving him a glimpse of your bare pussy. For stability, you pressed your back against the tiled wall behind you, trying to stabilize your shaky stance, because you were doing this, about to put on a show for this man, whom you loved with your entire being, who was an ocean away. You took a deep breath, then swallowed down your nerves, spreading your legs, and reached for the dildo lying on the counter.
“It’s a little chilly… I think I need to warm it up—”
He groaned, then said, “It suctions to the wall. You can use it however you want, love, but I thought that would be fun for the future.” And you laughed, eyes moving over the silicone object in your hand, trying to figure out its legistics.
“Well, you’ve seemed to think of all of our pleasuring needs…” You poked, turning to level his silicone glory with your lower body as you stuck it to the wall. “And since you’ve been so thoughtful, baby, I’m going to give you what you want.”
“Oh fuck, love—That’s already enough to make me come. You’re so fucking hot.” He forced out, watching the torture of your presence steal his features as his hand moved below camera view. But all you could see was the muscles working in his toned arm, and the view was just as hot as his words.
Feeling playful, you clicked your tongue with a chiding scold, “No, no, no, Harry. I get to come first…” You teased, pulling your shirt over your head, then tossed it aside as the chill of the air breezed over your hardening nipples, and you brought your hands up to your boobs, pinching the hard tips between your fingers.
“Darling, I won’t even touch myself… I promise. God—You look amazing. Your body is brilliant in that light. A fucking goddess…” He cooed, building you up and making you feel invincible, as usual.
You bit back your smile, eyes shyly shifting to the erect dick hanging from your wall, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, “Harry, this kind of looks too big—not going to lie.” You confessed, but internally you wanted the stretch, wanted the ache it was sure to bring, and when you spread your legs, backing onto the cold tip of the cock, you closed your thighs around it, trying to warm it up, bringing a hand down to pull it up to your hot center.
“Damn, babe, you’re a natural…” Harry praised, and for a second, you had almost forgotten he was there.
You laughed, “This is interesting…” You clarified, starting to move along the length as you squeezed your thighs for better friction, and as you reached the tip, it caught and pressed into your clit, then you slowly glided yourself back down to the base. You repeated the motion, feeling the slickness of your previous stroke, and closed your eyes.
“How does it feel?” he asked, genuinely curious, even though his tone had a strained edge. “For research purposes…”
“For research purposes?” you repeated on a wave of pleasure, and when you opened your eyes, he was licking his lips, the sight making your mouth go dry.
“For quality purposes… You know I never want to disappoint…” he told you, but all you could say was, “Mmmm…” as the pleasure picked up and you closed your eyes, ready to get lost in it. The chill was disappearing with every stroke of your wet pussy, the soft silicone growing slicker and slicker with your juices as your pace quickened slightly. You were getting antsy, knew you could come just like this, but you wanted to be filled, wanted this cock to push thick against your walls as you came.
“Tell me how it feels, love. You’re making it look incredible.”
Desperation was filling his tone, and you loved it. Loved that his need was as sharp as your want to have him inside you. “It’s…getting warm…” You breathed out on an upward stroke, as the ridge of his tip teased your entrance, catching slightly, and you bit down on your lower lip to suppress the moan building.
“The warmer it’s getting, the more it feels real… soft to the touch, but hard… mmmm… baby, it’s so hard—like you.”
“Fuck…” Was all you heard in a pained gasp as you worked the toy between your legs, because the longer your eyes were closed, the more you were slipping into the fantasy that this might actually be real. Because when your eyes were closed, it felt like him, the best that money could buy, and you could tell that he didn’t skimp, not a single dollar, trying to make this dream come true for you.
As you sank deeper into the mindset, the visions of your past together began to flood you again. Your own desperation was taking over, your mind taking you back to the last time he had fucked you in the shower the morning you left. That whole night, you guys had fucked like rabbits, both of you trying to satiate a need that would never be filled as long as you both were breathing. It was just like this, that moment in the shower—him pressing you into the glass, his dick at the perfect angle, shoved so deep inside you there was no way you weren’t going to come. His arm had been wrapped around your waist, snug and in control, lifting you just enough to hit your spot, and now you wanted to recreate it.
You needed that same penetration; Needed it like the air in your lungs, and as you lifted slightly, forcing the hard cock toward your entrance, you held your breath, your body gearing up for that masterful stretch. Fuck, there it was, you thought as the head stretched you open with a searing burn of delight. A pained moan echoed in the space, and you sealed your lips shut as the moan vibrated at the back of your throat, and you forced yourself back onto the cock, taking it inch by inch, your slick pussy at war with the girth and your tightness.
You hit the wall hard, ass bouncing into the tile as you gasped for breath the second you hit the hilt of the hard silicone. The length was deep, punching into your cervix, with a welcomed ache that had you stilling yourself just long enough to let your walls relax, because you were a pro at taking him, distance or no distance. “So good…” You spoke with a small whimper, holding your breath as the dizzying sensation stole your oxygen.
Then you did it again, lifting yourself to the tips of your toes, and slamming back down, that vision of Harry pounding into you at the forefront of your mind, and fuck, this was a close comparison to that feeling, as close as you were going to get with him being so far away. You were going to seize this moment. It was inevitable, your entire world was blurring and focusing in on that one vision and this feeling, the two now playing in tandem.
Then Harry said, “Just like that…” and you repeated his words, his words playing like a whisper in your ear, and you picked up the pace, as your sweaty palms smacked against the cold tile for more stability. Every time you came up on the tips of your toes, you drove the dick as deep as you could inside you. At times, your hands would slip, and you would lose your balance, but only for a second, only a quick smear—the sound a streaking squeak ricocheting around the bathroom before you would quickly adjust yourself again.
“Just like that,” you said out loud, repeating his words back to him. But they felt like yours now, saying it to him, to yourself, to the silicone that felt like it had a pulse now. It was too much, and you slowed your motions, feeling that familiar knot starting to coil deep in your belly. The depth was pure insanity, enough to satisfy your needs as you controlled the movements of your hips to a steady rock, your wetness making for an easy glide, giving you less work.
He was hitting your spot, the one that had your toes curling, and your teeth aching with a pleasure so deep you felt it in your bones, but you needed more. That’s when your hand moved to your clit, as you began a slow bounce, your hand matching the rhythm of your hips, “Baby, don’t you dare stop,” Harry said, his voice another whisper, another jolt of electricity pulsing to that knot coiling deeper and deeper.
“Harry, it’s so deep… you’re so deep… I won’t stop. I can’t. Fuck don’t stop…” You chanted between breaths, dreamily slipping between pockets of reality with each wave of pleasure that was building, because who knew this could feel so good? Could get this wet? Could slide in and out of you with such ease, the feeling like taking a breath, because this was that breath, this was that air that you needed.
Yes, because you needed this, needed it—needed him, and all it took was one last thrust of your hips, and Harry’s name was spilling out of your mouth as you nearly stilled on the hard mass inside you. You finally forced your eyes open then, as you came—the feeling tripping something in your brain as you came undone. What surprised you most was that your eyes weren’t searching for him; you were searching for yourself, and as they frantically darted to the mirror, taking in the stranger staring back at you, your orgasm hit harder.
It was confusing and liberating all at once, and as you caught your breath, the silence hit like a strange emptiness pressing on your eardrums as the world went quiet around you—the only sounds now were the slow patter of your breathing and the distant, tiny echo of the bathroom vent. You stood there, bewildered, as your world zipped clean open, your entire body bursting with a new light, the feeling splitting into three—you, Harry, and the chasm of space between you, now unfolding in the space of a heartbeat.
For a fleeting moment, you were floored by the cruelty reality had instantly inflicted on you. If it weren’t for the tremble in your legs, you would have thought it was someone else who had just fucked themselves into oblivion, but the proof was in the burn of your thighs, the sharp chill of the tile under your feet, the sweet aftershock clamping down between your legs—all of it was real, yet it still felt fake as the silicone hunk stayed suctioned to the wall.
“You alright, love?” Harry asked, his voice filtering through your thoughts, now just a face on a small screen, hazy and distant as his cautious laughter stitched into his concern.
You peeked up at yourself again, but only for the briefest second, still a stranger to yourself, but slowly morphing back to you, “Well, I think that will definitely sell… but maybe we can negotiate… Because I don’t think I want to share… holy fuck baby—That was…”
“Better than the real deal?” He asked as you walked out of frame laughing, and grabbed your shirt from the ground and slipped it back on, then moved back into the shot. Both of you started laughing as you struggled to get the obscene chunk of silicone off the wall, everything slipping back into normalcy as quickly as it all started.
“Nothing could be better than the real deal… there’s like—something about the warmth… and there’s still a softness even when your dick is really fucking hard—” you gritted out, still struggling with the base suctioned to the wall. When you finally managed to disengage it, there was a loud pop, and you gasped out with a laugh, stumbling backward as your ass hit the counter, and you tossed it in the sink, ready to rid yourself of the overwhelming moment to recenter yourself.
Harry cleared his throat, and your eyes darted to the screen as you turned to face the sink. “I have a confession…” He says, with a broken laugh.
“And what’s that?” you asked, turning on the faucet. “Wait—have you already given the green light to launch it, Harry, and I’m just hearing about it?
“No Love, with a launch like this. You know you would be the first to try it… but…”
“But?” you questioned.
“The truth is, this isn’t the prototype. I just wanted to gauge your reaction… which seemed pretty good on my end—”
“Harry—”
“No—seriously, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life. Hands down. As if I need any more of a reason to be obsessed with you—fuck, I love you so much.”
You smiled and arched a brow at the screen, trying to hide the flush creeping into your cheeks, “So you’re telling me I have the only silicone dildo that was cast from your dick?”
“Well, yes… but I have the patton in case I ever change my mind.”
You glanced at the phone, catching the playful smirk tilting up the corner of his mouth. “Okay, well now I have a confession…” You tell him, while holding up the soapy cock in your hands.
“Wait—are you about to actually tell me it’s better? Because that looked like a really fucking good orgasm… I might be a little jealous.”
“I mean—yes, it was, but no—” you divulged with a laugh. “Hell no, babe, nothing is better than a warm cock, trust me… well, actually, you’re really good with your mouth… and your fingers—but yeah.”
“Okay, good—I guess now I’ll be able to sleep tonight, knowing you’re not replacing me.”
You were eyeing him suspiciously, “Okay… But now that I’ve given you a show, you owe me one…” You demand with a playful grin.
“Oh yeah? That’s fair… Like now or later?”
“God—Later I’m good for now,” you started, “Like way later, like when you come and visit, or when we’re back home… And we have a whole day, you know, like maybe we can continue with this whole experiment, and—”
“And I can fuck you with both dicks?” he said, finishing your train of thought.
“Fuck—you know me so well.” You tell him.
“Oh, love…” He says with a calming sigh, “It’s just one of the many reasons I made it…”
I’m tired of this life. I’m in france in it isn’t like anything shown online or by influencers. It’s hot. It’s dirty. Its boring. Hell even philly was more interesting. I just miss London bcuz I actually felt connected to the 1D fandom . First time in my whole life I felt connected to a fandom that has helped me through such hard times. Next is the whole ‘harry styles anywhere but the studio’ . Imma say . This was the worst fucking idea he could do. Ik his music isnt for little kids but he’ll lose so much respect and listeners. He needs a better PR. And also how the fandom just goes along with it and shames the others like I’m not a prude, I love duplicity, but this idk feels wrong. Mainly bcuz im afraid what my parents will say when they, eventually, find out. This was the community where I felt safe and loved. And now it’s just weird. Not the same. I love harry . The music is still good. The fans are still so kind and warm. I still feel at home. But it’s just this weird feeling of guilt everything I listen to H . Like a little voice saying “you really going to listen to Harry Styles.” I just want it to be normal again. I hope he’s actually making fucking music instead of vibrators and lube now. Bcuz i cant keep defending it. I did it for Taylor Swift during that fuckass album TTPD and i wont do it for a white rich cis straight man.good thing sombr dropped so i can be happy abt something! Ik this weird feeling is temporary but man I just really want to be over now. So i can listen to my goddamn Harry styles in peace. 🥀💔 p.s this was originally a text message to my friend
Sincerely ,
Lizzyldrgrant
Editing me . A special thanks to @rtc-obsessed-gworlie I didn’t think this post would get a like so again thank you pookie wookie
