🍒why so sexy if so dumb?🍒

Grace felt like she just had a knack for falling for guys like her boyfriend. Always so seemingly perfect at first and then their true colors rang through. It didn’t matter if they were the good guys her parents pushed onto her or the misunderstood bad boys she found on her own. It always ended the same. Having an audience for their fight made her just want to crawl in a whole and die from embarrassment. She didn’t want Hayes to be a witness and have him telling people what happened. But it seemed like he wasn’t on his friend’s side, which was surprising since most would stick with their friend and not the girlfriend. “I’d appreciate that.. thanks,” she murmurs, grateful for the offer. One problem was at least solved, which was a bit of a relief, but she was still reeling from it all. His next words cause her to look at him and she’s speechless for a moment, unsure how to respond. “He wasn’t before, at least not this bad,” she admits to him. “I don’t know what to do.” Saying it out loud felt like the weight was lifted off of her in a sense, like she could breathe. She had been trying to just be strong and save face by acting like everything was fine when it really wasn’t. “It’s so exhausting, all the fighting and then making up only to fight again a day later. But he doesn’t want to try and actually fix the real issues. What’s the point of staying with someone when they don’t want to be around you?” She questions out loud, almost curious what he had to say about it.

Hayes looked at Grace with a steadiness that made it clear he wasn’t speaking lightly, his expression firm but not unkind as he tried to choose his words carefully, knowing this wasn’t easy to hear, “You don’t need to put up with him behaving like that around you,” he said, his tone even but laced with quiet conviction, his gaze holding hers to make sure she understood he meant it, not as criticism but concern, “I love you two together, but you also aren’t his mother. You don’t need to put up with his temper tantrums,” he added, a slight shake of his head following as if the thought alone frustrated him, because to him it was simple, respect wasn’t optional in a relationship; he shifted his weight slightly, glancing away for a brief second before looking back at her, softening just enough to take the edge off his bluntness, and as he took in her expression, he gave a small, affirming nod, “I’ve seen toxic relationships before,” he continued, more quietly now, as though drawing from experience rather than assumption, “and him acting like that toward you… it’s not right,” he admitted, exhaling lightly before adding, “I’m sorry for telling you that, but a good boyfriend wouldn’t cause a scene, not in front of people,” his voice steady, not judgmental, just honest, making it clear he wasn’t trying to interfere, just refusing to pretend it was okay.

Admittedly, in the earlier days of their relationship, Nova tested out his jealous streak with purposefully getting a guy here or there to flirt with her. She wanted to see what he did, and she was never disappointed. She wanted him to step in, to show everyone she was his and he was hers. That and perhaps seeing him a bit angry was a turn on, as well, each time ending with her body pressed against his, unable to get enough of his lips, his touch, of him. A slow smile formed on her lips, the kind that showed his words got to her, made her feel good about herself, about them, “Yeah?” she sighed contently, arms wrapped around him, “Me neither. I’m not ashamed to tell you or show you – as you know,” she flirted. “Stop being like that or we won’t make it anywhere but the bedroom,” she joked, returning the soft kiss. “Alright, you know I always keep stuff for you here,” she assured. She liked when he stayed the night so she tried to have some things on hand that suited him. Waiting for him to return, it wasn’t terribly long, eyes scanning over his form – partly checking him out, but also making sure he really was alright. “Absolutely, babe,” she snuggled in close to him, but was careful, not wanting to hurt him. “Are you telling me where we’re headed or is it a surprise?” she asked, making her way to the door with him.

Wyatt knew, somewhere along the line, things had shifted from casual to something far deeper, because now he found himself completely taken by Nova, drawn in a way that felt steady rather than fleeting, the kind of feeling that didn’t leave room for the old habits he used to fall back on, and though he’d once had a reputation for not sticking around, that version of him felt distant now, replaced by someone who genuinely adored her and found quiet satisfaction in the small, intentional ways he showed it; as they stepped out of the apartment, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick, warm squeeze, a natural gesture that carried more meaning than he’d probably say out loud, before guiding her along with him, his hand sliding down her arm to her wrist and then lacing their fingers together like it was the most instinctive thing in the world, and when she questioned him, he just glanced over with a faint, knowing smile, “It’s a surprise. You’ll see soon enough,” keeping his tone light but certain as he led her toward his car, already parked outside, and without breaking that easy rhythm between them, he stepped ahead to open the passenger door for her, one hand resting against it as he looked back at her with a soft, affectionate expression, “In you get, baby,” his voice low and warm, every movement reflecting how much he cared without needing to make a show of it.

“Really? You’re just full of surprises today.” But she couldn’t deny how him wanting to do that for her made her heart skip a bit. Her eyes narrow slightly in a playful manner. “A pinky promise is very serious business,” she states, bringing her hand up to hook her pinky with his. She laughs a bit at his statement. “Fine, deal,” she nods in agreement. Because she did want to go out with him. She wanted to feel special and have someone give her attention for a change instead of having to be the one giving out hers. “But you don’t get to know what’s underneath unless you really impress me.”

Bryn grinned the moment she hooked her pinky finger around his. His expression widening into something more openly amused as her cheeky words landed exactly how she intended; he tilted his head slightly, studying her with a spark of interest, then raised an eyebrow at the challenge she threw his way, clearly intrigued rather than intimidated, the corner of his mouth tugging upward as confidence settled easily into his posture, and he leaned just enough into the moment to make it clear he was all in, his voice carrying that effortless assurance, “I love a challenge. I know I’m going to hit the bar and go beyond,” finishing it off with a quick wink that matched her energy, “Don’t even second guess that, baby,” his tone light but certain, like he fully intended to prove it.

Some nights were better than others, especially since she and Finn moved in together. Even still, nightmares plagued her, at times. With therapy, it was better than it used to be, but far from gone. Sometimes it was a simple nightmare, other times a full blown night terror. The thing Emma was glad for, it was rare for it to be night after night anymore. Sometimes she knew the trigger or could guess at it, other times it felt like it came out of nowhere. She was restless as one of the more violent and awful nights played in her subconscious mind, some events exactly as they went, some different – worse, if that was possible. The feel of Finn’s hand gently shaking her didn’t quite pull her free the way it usually had previously. It was simply part of the events, but harsher. His voice was lost on her, of course, unaware he was talking. Her lips did move, but nothing escaped. Emma didn’t talk, too embarrassed by her stuttering to even try since the day she became fully Deaf. The second attempt to nudge her, stir her worked – between him and the violence of the nightmare, the petite brunette shot up in a bed, gasping, a hand against her chest, moving to her throat as if to try to tell her mind she could breathe. It was instinctive for her hand to grasp onto Finn’s. It took her a few minutes, terrified eyes darting around the room. She wasn’t fully awake as she slipped out of bed, like something instinctive taking over, dropping down to kneel on the floor like her brain was on auto pilot. Shoulders slumped, eyes drawing up and around the room, only then clicking to where she was, who was next to her. “I’m sorry,” she signed to him, in the moment, it was the only thing she could think of to say.

Finn didn’t let go of her hand, following her down to the floor without hesitation but careful not to crowd her, settling beside her with a quiet steadiness he’d learned she needed on nights like this, his thumb brushing slow, grounding circles against the back of her hand as he watched her, waiting for that moment her eyes started to come back to him instead of whatever still lingered in her mind; he said “it’s okay” out of habit, knowing she wouldn’t hear it, then lifted their joined hands slightly to draw her focus and signed instead, deliberate and clear. "no, don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong, shifting so he sat fully on the floor beside her, back against the bed, gently encouraging her out of that rigid, braced posture without forcing it as he caught himself speaking again and instead signed, slower now, more intentional, "breathe with me", exaggerating each inhale and exhale so she could follow, his gaze never leaving hers as he kept the rhythm steady, patient, present, letting the silence work for them rather than against them. Finn had been around around Emma enough to learn what worked and what didn't. His hand gently moved over her back in a soothing motion.

Remy certainly felt like her head was swimming. Everything was blissfully hazy, and all she wanted was to be as close as possible to Hayden. Giggling softly, she nodded with a bit of an exaggerated movement, “Mmhm,” she murmured. It was clear the blonde didn’t really even notice she was signing with her words. It was so automatic that it was natural. She knew, somewhere in her drunken mind, he wasn’t fully fluent, but she was proud of how far he’d come, how he tried, for her and her family, to learn as quickly as possible. Listening to his words, a crooked smile formed, feeling that familiar warmth in her chest that he always brought about, especially when he spoke that way. It was clear the cute pet name was one she liked, too. All of it was really only drifting her mind to one thing – and if she weren’t drunk, she’d remember how important it was to her to wait until their wedding night.

Hayden reached back without hesitation, fingers hooking into the fabric at the nape of his neck before pulling his shirt up and over his head in one smooth motion, the movement easy and practiced as he tossed it carelessly somewhere across the room without a second thought. “Like this? I don’t mind being like this around you,” he admitted, his voice relaxed, almost teasing, but grounded in a quiet confidence that came from knowing exactly who he was. His physique spoke for itself, broad shoulders, defined arms, and a sculpted chest shaped by years of discipline, both from his work as a physical education teacher and the hours he spent pushing himself at the gym. There was nothing accidental about the way he looked; every line and contour reflected effort and consistency, and while he didn’t show off for the sake of it, there was a clear sense of pride in how he carried himself.

The thought flashed in her mind, the two of them out somewhere, both underestimated to the detriment of whomever made such a foolish mistake. It half made her smirk. She was certain he was more charming than her, likely less violent, but it didn’t bother her. Ella wasn’t the best at schmoozing people – leaving the lightness, flirting, and such things to her twin. Their father wanted Ella to get better at that, rubbing elbows at parties, but she truly hated those things. She’d rather deal with a gun aimed at her than a fancy party where she had to play nice. Glancing over at Huddy, she laughed, shaking her head, “Team bonding?” she said the words playfully. “You haven’t felt my hands... yet,” she quirked a brow, hoping she’d understood him correctly. Her English was better than she gave herself credit for, even if she felt lost every now and then.

“I’m sure I’ll feel your hands at some point,” Huddy answered, a small, knowing smirk tugging at his lips as he stepped closer, his tone light but laced with playful confidence, and when he reached her side, he didn’t hesitate to guide her through it, his hands settling over hers as they worked the whisk together in the bowl; his grip was steady, controlled, the motion smooth as he helped her find a rhythm, the soft clink of metal against ceramic filling the space between them while he leaned in just enough to see what she was doing, his presence warm and close without overwhelming her, “see, like that,” he murmured, a quiet chuckle slipping out when she followed along, the mixture slowly evening out under their combined effort, “you weren’t lying,” he added with a grin, amused by how quickly she picked it up with a little guidance, because for him, this had always been second nature, something drilled into him from a young age, long before it ever felt optional; his father had made sure of that, teaching him how to cook, how to clean, how to take care of things properly, and now those habits showed in the ease of his movements, in the way he instinctively kept things tidy as he went, and when she moved to clean herself up, he watched with a shake of his head, amused, “no more help,” he said, his grin widening as he pointed toward the counter, “just sit there and look pretty.”

It was true, there were times Effie felt the weight of the responsibility, but she always tried to shove that to the back of her mind. Without her, she knew the kids would all be taken by DCFS and probably separated. She couldn’t have that happen. They all only had each other in this world, knowing well they couldn’t rely on their parents. The brunette, along with the older kids, had long stopped calling them mom and dad. In fact, Effie had to work with Rio so he wasn’t calling her mom and she was already trying to make sure baby Lola knew she was her big sister, not her mom. The fact was, Effie never expected to have a relationship, never thought she’d find a man who’d accept her crazy situation. She was, essentially, the parent of seven kids, and she did and would do whatever was necessary to take care of them to the best of her ability. She was grateful for Fletcher, though. He’d helped ease some of the burden even in times where he was simply there – playing with the younger kids, helping pack lunches, or even just keeping her company. There were more times than she could count that he helped her feel sane – like tonight. If it weren’t for Fletcher, she might’ve called her older brother, and there was no telling what condition he’d be in at the moment. The last thing she wanted was for the younger kids to be around him when he was high or drunk or both. “You’re pretty amazing,” Effie smiled softly up at him. “I appreciate any time you’re here. And yes, maybe a trip to the park or something, get their minds off everything with Elias and Nola. I gotta work in the evening so it’ll be good, hopefully they’ll be calm for Madison.”

Fletcher understood, maybe more than most, just how much Effie carried on her shoulders day to day, even if she didn’t always say it outright; her world was loud, full, constantly in motion with siblings needing attention, energy bouncing off every wall, and very little space that truly belonged to just her. That was something Fletcher had come to appreciate about his own place, the quiet, the ability to shut the door and exist without expectations when he needed it, but Effie didn’t have that same escape unless she came to him, and that thought alone made him want to give her some kind of relief, even if it was temporary. “I think wearing them out would be a good idea,” he admitted, a small, thoughtful smile forming as he started piecing together a plan, his mind already turning it into something fun rather than chaotic. “We could split them into teams, make it competitive so they actually try to beat each other,” he suggested, a spark of amusement lighting up his expression, already imagining the inevitable arguing and determination that would come with it. “Except the little ones,” he added with a chuckle, shaking his head slightly, “we’ll just chase them around, they’ll be exhausted way before the others,” and there was a playful confidence in his tone, the kind that came from someone who had plenty of energy to burn himself.

Juliette knew he had been, she felt his gaze on her all day long. It had made her squirm in her skin at the way he had been unrelenting, like he was telepathically sending her messages about every little dirty thing he had wanted to do to her. It was enough to drive a woman mad. “You could have if you really wanted to,” she finds herself retorting because she just had to be a smart ass and give him a hard time after the torture she had gone through by not having him all day. Obviously that couldn’t actually happen, but a part of her felt a twinge of excitement at the thought of him doing anything to stake claim to her in front of other people. Even just putting an arm around her to show that they were connecting in some kind of way other than just pretending to be friendly because of her friendship with his sister. Sure, they could be more open when she snuck away to hang out with him and his friends because that group didn’t give a shit. They were cool people and just accepted that she hung around with them. But a part of her wanted that twenty-four/ seven. The idea that she could do that with him up at his college, the fact he wanted to have her come around, made her feel kind of happy. Even if she didn’t want to admit how much she really liked that idea. She watches as he slips the condom on, body practically vibrating with anticipation of what was to come. And it doesn’t disappoint, the blonde kept still and at his mercy as he eased every single inch into her at a painfully slow rate. Her head falls back and she moans, the sound getting slightly louder when he teases at her clit. “Dallas,” she breathes out, her voice deep from need. One hand grips at his forearm, her hips trying to arch in order to force him deeper. She didn’t care about seeming needy. She wanted him and to feel the pleasure only he could provide lately.

Dallas’s smirk only widened as he watched the flash of defiance in Juliette’s eyes, knowing full well she was testing him and enjoying every second of it. The crowded house around them hummed with distant conversation and laughter, voices drifting from the living room and kitchen, a constant reminder that they were far from alone. That was precisely why she kept pushing him. He knew better than to react the way she wanted, at least not here. His friends already adored her, something that had surprised him at first but had quickly become inevitable. Juliette fit effortlessly into every room she entered, charming people without even trying. It was his sister’s opinion that worried him. She noticed everything, asked too many questions, and had a talent for stirring up family drama whenever she sensed something was being kept from her. If she started making assumptions about him and Juliette, his parents would immediately take her side, just as they always had, leaving him frustrated and defensive. He wasn’t prepared to deal with that battle yet. For now, he preferred keeping whatever existed between him and Juliette confined to stolen moments and private conversations. As she lay there, looking entirely too pleased with herself, he leaned closer, closing the small distance between them before pressing a brief kiss to her lips. “Juliette,” he murmured against her mouth, his voice low enough that only she could hear. His grin returned as he pulled back slightly, close enough to catch the sparkle in her eyes. “You need to be quiet.” A soft chuckle escaped him, warm and amused rather than serious. He tilted his head toward the hallway, where footsteps echoed faintly beyond the doorway. “People are down the hall,” he reminded her, though the playful expression on his face suggested that her silence was the very last thing he expected. He thrusted into her faster, starting up a decent pace. His lips moving down to her breast, sucking one nipple between his parted lips. "You're so fucking stunning."

Selene won’t lie and say she wasn’t addicted to the way they would stare at her. It made her feel good knowing that she could grab each of their full attention without even having to try that hard. Which was pretty resounding since they basically had almost every woman thirsting after them around here. But none of them had her boys the way she did. She watches them both as they take her in. Of course she thrived off of their compliments, knowing that she was driving them wild just making her happy. “That goes for you too, Dean,” she counters right back when he insists Garrett behave himself. She really needed to start this project, but their hungry eyes on her was slowly making her want to just let it be for a little bit. It was hard not to feel that way when she had two of the hottest guys on campus naked and looking at her like they wanted to devour her. Any reasonable woman attracted to the opposite sex would be feeling the same way if they were in her position. Lips quirk up ever so slightly as if she’s debating something in her mind. “Ten minutes of fooling around,” she finally states, smiling a bit. “Then we get back to work. Deal?” She offers the compromise for all of their sakes because she knew going back to trying to focus was going to be way too difficult right now.

Kat nods in agreement, willing to try anything at this point. She just wanted to feel better. “I’m cool with that, if it means the headache will ease up. I haven’t even been able to play my guitar for the past week.” She follows him back to the room and she steps inside to look around. She didn’t feel worried or anything. He was really professional and his calming nature made her feel at ease. She listens to his instructions, head turning to look back at him once again. “Okay, sounds easy enough,” she softly jokes. Making her way to the side room, she’s not even sure what to dress down to. Of course she wasn’t going to get naked, that would be weird. So she decides on stripping down to her bra and panties before grabbing for the robe he had waiting back there for her. She slips it on, tying it loosely. Coming back out, she carefully makes her way to the table and gets herself situated like he instructed. She settles on her stomach and places her head in the hole. “Okay,” she tells him, taking a breath as she tries to relax. “This feels weird,” she muses with a laugh, the position of her head in the face hole feeling funny to her. “Do people like talk during these things or am I supposed to just be quiet to relax?” She questions out of curiosity. It was the nerves making her talk and she knew she needed to just let herself mellow out. “I’m sorry.. I’m annoying when I get anxious.” Which she felt like was often. She was always hyper aware of how she acted, worried that she would get on someone’s nerves and that just made her end up more anxious. It was a vicious cycle.

Lawson turned back toward Kat the moment she said she was ready, his expression calm and professional, though there was an easy warmth in the way he approached her, clearly wanting her to feel comfortable before anything began; he paused at a respectful distance, giving her space as he spoke, his tone measured and reassuring, “Different people react different. If you prefer a conversation flowing so there isn’t an awkward silence, I’m happy to talk with you,” offering a small, understanding smile before continuing, “Or if you prefer to have your treatment in silence, I could put some relaxing music on and you can just enjoy the massage,” making it clear the experience would be shaped around her preferences rather than his routine, then adding with a quiet, almost amused honesty, “Personally I prefer a small conversation flowing because the sounds of the oils and stuff that is used can sound funny coming out the bottles, you can’t hear it over conversations,” the comment lightening the atmosphere just enough to ease any lingering tension; he shifted slightly closer then, still careful and respectful, his movements unhurried as he asked, “Can I take the robe off you and replace it with a towel that covers anything I don’t need to see?” ensuring consent before proceeding, his professionalism evident in both his wording and demeanour, and after giving her a moment to respond, he added, “I’m going to work on your back first,” his voice steady and informative, signalling the beginning of the session while maintaining that balance between reassurance and clear communication. "It'll be a little bit of pleasure. Nothing uncomfortable. Just me kneading the tension and knocks out."

Open starter for Sawyer Sullivan (Jacob Elordi fc)

“So you decided to help yourself to whatever in my kitchen,” Nova said, a small, knowing smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned casually against the counter, clearly more amused than annoyed. “Not your own stuff, just the groceries I brought yesterday.” A soft chuckle slipped out, light and teasing rather than sharp. She tilted her head slightly, studying them with playful curiosity. “Does it taste good at least?” she added, her tone warm.

open: f // mutuals & non-mutuals