#Knee Length Skirts For Women | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

healedlover · 2 months ago

Text

EMPTY GAZE ; RUINED WITH LUST

summary: in which the expressionless man finally showed expression during sex pairing: nanami kento x fem!reader cw: nanami is a sex addict and a little perv, oral (m receiving), p in v, make out sesh, dirty talk, clothed sex (f is only wearing her clothes), one night stand a/n: not proof read, first time trying a fic like this haha..spare me..

— 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ —

nanami never had a girlfriend.

he was good looking, that wasn’t the problem. it was the fact he was very expressionless during sex, which made women think he was just using them for his own pleasure.

which was half true, nanami never intended on getting a girlfriend and just decided to use every woman to let his steam out.

currently, he was relaxing against a tree, watching the dark gloomy beach reflect upon him. he had no plans for the night, so he decided to just watch the beach to pass some time before going to bed.

minutes passed and he was getting bored by the second, he didnt know what was going on in his head but he needed something to distract himself with.

nanami glanced around the beach, looking for possibly anyone to let off his boredom with and caught someone standing near the waves. before he could walk up to them, he was interrupted with a small tug on his shirt.

“hello?”

nanami turned around and almost passed out at the sight, he mumbled a quick hello before looking up and down at your outfit.

star struck at the way your breasts sit perfectly in your revealing top, the way your hair contrasted perfectly with your outfit, the way the wind made your skirt flow up and down, he wasn't paying attention to a word you were saying.

"–so yeah, you down?"

"sure." nanami answered with no hesitation, actually--he didnt even care what he agreed to, but he needed to fuck you immediately.

"perfect! follow me, handsome." your fingers wrapped around nanami's large, veiny wrists and you dragged him to one of the beach houses nearby.

"why'd you decide to talk to me?"

"my friend recommended you to me, you know her?" you pull up a picture of one of the women nanami had fucked before, but nanami just shrugs and shakes his head.

"mm, dont remember her."

"weird, anyway, I heard you're very good at sex so I was thinking–"

nanami took a few steps in front of you and pressed you against the wall, his lips was inches away from yours. you could feel his hot breath graze against your skin, and in a blink of a second, he captured your lips in a deep kiss.

both tongues intertwined with each other, nanami nor you didnt want to pull away, nanamis fingers slid through your hair as he sunk himself deeper inside your mouth.

"wai–mngh-"

nanami's teeth sink on your bottom lip and he gives it a light tug before pulling away and staring down at you--yet again, with rarely any expression.

you scoffed at his incompetence and then felt the same rough fingers slip under your skirt, nanami's fingers teased the waistband of your panties and slowly pushed them down, leaving them to rest between your thighs.

"you heard I was good at sex...right?" he asked breathlessly, you nod and he slips his fingers out of your hair, wrapping those same fingers around your wrist. nanami placed your hand on his hard-on.

"then make me feel good...can you do that f'me?"

"yes.." you responded breathlessly, he nodded and you fumble the belt of his pants and after a few failed attempts you finally clink it open. you rip the belt off and quickly unzip his pants, letting them flow down his legs.

you pull down his boxers and was met with his searing hard length, staring daggers at you. sighing, you kneel down on your knees and brush your lips against his creamy mushroom tip, your tongue darting on the head as your lips wrap around his aching cock.

you lowered your head deeper and swore you heard a gasp slip out of nanami's lips, you look up at him–still with half his length shoved inside your mouth–and notice him scoffing at you before turning his head away.

"keep going..ngh"

your fingers grabbed onto his thighs and nanami winced at your grip. nanami's fingers grabbed onto your hair and he pushed your head until you took in his full length. holding back a gag, your nails dig in his thighs until it felt like it was bleeding.

"touch yourself." he demanded, you let go of his thighs and bring your fingers to your raging heat, you slip a finger in your cunt and rapidly stroke yourself as you continued to suck off nanami.

nanami kept pushing your head back and forth, back and forth. your throat started to hurt and your eyes were watering like a waterfall. you slip your fingers out of yourself and glare at nanami through your blurred vision.

"'m gonna cu-ughh"

he pulled himself out of you and white beads spurted all over your face, you sigh and plop against the wall as you look up at him with half lidded eyes and nanami's eyebrows furrowed as his fingers rubbed your eyelid to remove his mess written all over your face.

"where's the bedroom?" nanami asked, looking around the room the two of you were isolated in.

"on the left"

nanami nodded and lifted you off of the ground, carrying you to the bedroom. he stood in front of the door and lightly kicked it open with his foot, nanami then carefully made his way to the bed and threw you on it.

he slid his fingers under the waistband of your panties and swiftly removed them, still keeping your skirt and top on. you watch as he lines himself with your wet cunt, which was practically begging to be used already.

his tip made contact with your soaking entrance and he carefully pushed himself inside you.

"did you even cum yet?"

"I dont...mgh...know" you mutter, shutting your eyes, grabbing onto the bed sheet beneath you. you heard nanami let out a quiet 'tsk' before he thrusted himself into you.

"s' tight...fuck.."

you clench around him and he pushed himself deeper inside you. you let out a whine and flutter open your eyes to see nanami's flushed face and his expression filled with lust, the one thing your friend told you was that he showed little to no expression.

but here he was, taking in your tight cunt, while his face looked like he was a virgin having sex for the first time. the way his eyebrows furrowed together and his eyes were watering with desire.

you didn't mind this view at all.

nanami glanced down at you, and wrapped his hands on your wrists, pinning them down on the bed. he leaned in closer and left a bunch of kisses all over your face.

his fingers slid under your skirt and his eyes kept darting between your tits bouncing in the same rhythm hes pounding you in, and back at your eyes.

"ugh...'m gonna cumm"

"so am i, baby, so am.. mmph- hold it in, can you do that?"

you nod but your body was rejecting you from holding it in, a needy moan slipped out of your lips while your cum spilled out of your hole, with one final thrust he pulled away and came all over your body. nanami plopped on you, absolutely worn out from the best sex he's probably ever had.

his head nuzzled into your neck and he held onto you for the night.

— 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ —

aftercare happened trust

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami #nanami kento #nanami smut #jjk smut #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #jujustsu kaisen x reader #nanami fanfic #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami is so fine #need that #smut

478 notes · View notes

androgynealienfemme · 2 years ago

Text

"We go from store to store, trying to things on and inspecting them. I give my opinions on dresses and shoes, blouses and lipstick colors. Sometimes I say things that make the other women look at me, agape, as though my mouth has been possessed by that flighty queen from Queer Eye even while the rest of my body still looks like any other big dumb boy's. I say that I like a skirt but I wish it were bias-cut instead of A-line, or that I am not fond of the fashion for surplice tops, or that the post-WWII idiom in shoes this season is amusing but rarely looks good on actual feet, or that I like the look of a bolero jacket. I know the names of colors, heliotrope and coral and Nile blue, and I can say without hesitation whether a lipstick might look better matte with a bit of powder.

These other women look at me with wonder, their boyfriends and husbands having made a fetish out of refusing to learn such words under any circumstances, as though merely pronouncing the word "periwinkle" or "princess seam" could easily turn a strong man gay as a box of birds. They say to her, "That's your husband?" in voices that loiter between admiring and disgusted, as though they know that there's no force on earth that could make their men or boys take such interest in their clothing and they think they might really prefer that to the spectacle of me, filling an armchair, legs crossed ankle over knee, looking just right until I say "tea length."

The point is that she wants other girls to see what it looks like to have a boy so cracy in love with you, as I am, that he will spend an afternoon talking about capri pants to have a boy so delighted by you that he never calls you by your name, but addresses you always as "beautiful girl," or "my love" or occasionally and with great fondness, "boss." To have a boy who will happily fetch your next-size-down and carry your bags and charm the salesclerks at the register without flirting overmuch and just generally try to make himself as useful as possible, all for the dizzy and undying pleasure of making you happy. And even though I am not a boy, I look like one, and so I can be complicit with her in this kind of wonderful afternoon, part indulgence of her great beauty and style, part guerilla feminist activism.

Later, when we walk through the mall or down the sidewalk, me laden with packages that are clearly hers, I watch the eyes of the people we pass: the women who look at me with a certain longing, wishing they had their own boys to carry the bags. The men who look at her with an unmistakable hunger, wishing that they had the honor of schlepping for a girl like her, and then look at me with a certain edge of disbelief, not quite clear about why I get to squire this marvelous example of femininity around when they are clearly wealthier, more handsome, better hung. I have learned to meet all of these gazes with a calm kind of sweetness. There's no point in defensiveness or sheepishness or challenge. I'm the one holding her bags."

"Being a Shopping Switch” Butch is a Noun essays by S. Bear Bergman (2006)

#butch is a noun #s. bear bergman #lesbian lit #butch lit #lesbian #lesbianism #butch lesbian #butch 4 femme #butch4femme #butch for femme #femme #butch #femme lesbian #feminism

8K notes · View notes

attapullman · 1 year ago

Text

If Only the Neighbors Knew | Neighbor!Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: A month of stolen kisses culminates in Robert hosting the HOA meeting and getting you on his couch. The ladies of the neighborhood may make him blush, but only you can make your sweet neighbor weak in the knees.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings + Notes: Robert "Bob" Floyd x f!reader, 18+ only folks, swearing, unprotected pinv, oral (f!receiving), self-indulgent as per usual, too many italics. Oh, I am blushing and humbled at all the love that Neighbor!Bob has received! It's exactly a month later and now he's back and making us collectively drop our panties again, as well as all the other women in the neighborhood! But don't worry, he's only got eyes for you ;) Happy Holidays, my dears, thanks for reading!

meet Robert From Next Door here

He’s setting up refreshments in the dining room. The perfect viewpoint to where you perch on his slate gray sectional, making small talk with the neighborhood. Knees primly crossed under your skirt, smile wide as you laugh about the neighbor kids’ shenanigans. And all he can think about was when you walked in, the soft flush in your cheeks when you said, “Hi, Robert,” and gave him the lightest peck on the cheek, as if you did it all the time. As if it didn’t make him weak in the knees.

The only perk of hosting the HOA meeting is that you’re in his home. The fact other people are also here? Not ideal. It’s been a month since he had you straddled on his lap, sweetly moaning into his mouth, and frankly he wants to send everyone home so he can try the same thing on his couch.

But he offered to host because it’s the neighborly thing to do. Swung by the market on the way home from base and grabbed crackers and cheese, mixed nuts, and too many bottles of wine because once someone brings up the length of grass everyone turns to drinking.

He’s replenishing the plastic cups and water jug when he catches your eye. The small quirk of your smile, a silently flirty hi, has him flustered. Time to start this godforsaken meeting so he’s closer to getting you alone.

“So, Lieutenant Floyd, what’s new with you?” Mrs. Jacobs has already helped herself to enough wine by the time he joins the neighborhood in his sitting room. She’s flanked by her cronies - minions in matching sweater sets - and all instantly turn their attention on him. While not someone who normally turns heads, the day Robert Floyd bought his little bungalow with the creaky porch he was instantly the talk of the street. A young single Naval officer? The women could barely believe their luck. They were all married, but shameless flirting had never been out of question.

He takes a slow sip of his iced tea, biding time. On the other side of the room, he can feel your amused smile. The rumor mill would churn violently if anyone found out what was going on with you two. So you had been sneaking around the last few weeks. A few stolen afternoons kissing on the couch, errand trips turned into steaming up his truck’s windows. It’s been the best month of his life.

The WSO is spared answering when the president of the homeowner’s association clears her throat to start the meeting, shushing her grumbling husband. The collection of husbands sat at the back with their beers, arms crossed, giggling like schoolgirls at their comrade’s chiding. Normally Robert sat with them, but felt bold and came to sit near you on the sectional, one large decorative pillow acting as a barrier.

As expected, the meeting is trivially boring. While he tries to focus on repair costs and chimney safety, all he can think about is your hand only inches away. If he only shifted a few inches - only a few, it would be subtle - he could run the tips of his fingers along the back of your soft hands, intertwining your fingers and rubbing his thumb soothingly along your wrist. And if he was that close, he might as well dip his face into the crook of your neck, where the scent of your perfume was strongest and most delicious. While he was there, it would be so easy to press a k-

“Anyone have any questions about this?” He’s abruptly distracted from his daydream by several neighbors raising their hand, disgruntled by potential disruptions to their homes.

You catch his eye, eyebrows raised, curious on his thoughts about filter replacement. Or if he's as bored as you are. But he simply gives you a dazed, shy smile, his eyes lingering just a second too long on your lips.

The meeting adjourns - thank god - and neighbors create their cliques to download. It feels safe to start your own conversation (the first the two of you have spoken since you pressed a kiss to his cheek) and you turn to him eagerly. Just as you’re about to compliment his selection of cheese, a manicured hand reaches past you and touches Robert’s bicep.

Mrs. Jacobs and company have returned. “Lieutenant, before I head out I wanted to thank you again for taking care of my lawn last week. Such a big help.”

The tips of his ears blush pink, the tone of his neighbor’s voice a tad too suggestive for a simple chore. Mr. Jacobs was nearing his sixties and spent most of these meetings complaining about an old sports injury. It seemed the least the young WSO could do was offer landscaping help after all that rain last week. His mower was already out and he’d mown the Jacobs’ lawn without a second thought.

It had helped you had been outside planting bulbs. He liked the eye candy in your slightly too tight jeans.

The women continue to praise him and his generous ways. His cheeks on fire as Mrs. Connelly gushed about how great it was to have a big, strong Navy man in the neighborhood. As much as he wants to look at you, the embarrassment flooding his system has his eyes glued to the hardwood.

“You know,” Mrs. Branaugh began, exchanging an excited glance with her friends, “the city hall fundraiser next month is a little short on volunteers for our auction. Any chance any other lieutenants would be available?” Her eyes shamelessly rake down his chest, practically salivating at the idea of fighter pilots parading around in suits.

You feel the licks of jealousy itch at your palms.

He sputters out words, unsure if they’re agreement or excuses. Robert’s suffocating on his embarrassment. Mrs. Connelly and Mrs. Jacobs delight in his blush. The latter gushes, “I’d be happy to pay any of them to mow my lawn this summer.” She turns to her friends and winks. “Shirtless, of course!”

You nearly spit out your drink. The host of the evening looks moments from passing out. Your middle aged neighbors are cackling, lost in their tipsy fantasies. It’s time for everyone to go home.

Thankfully most of the men are ready to leave the gossip fest and return to their abodes. Gathering up their wives and thanking Lt. Floyd for his hospitality, the neighborhood departs the tidy bungalow, calls of, “Come over for dinner sometime!” thrown over their shoulders.

Amongst those leaving is you, slipping on your winter jacket and adjusting a thick scarf for the short walk. Barely recovered from his neighbors’ lascivious comments, he’s sad to see you go. Wishes you would straggle behind and pretend to help clean up, only to ignore the dishes and catch up in the biblical way. He can practically feel your soft skin in his hands. But you give him that sweet smile of yours and follow Mr. Sampson out the door, the promise of another time.

He’s never hosting these meetings again.

After much coaxing from her husband, the last of his neighbors finally leave and he’s alone in his bungalow again. Finally. The cheerful oxford blue walls, the hand-me-down dining chairs, the framed photo of his squadron above the mantle. Being permanently stationed has its perks.

He makes quick work of cleaning, bringing the remnants of his makeshift cheeseboard to the kitchen before wiping down the dining table and straightening the couch cushions. The multitude of empty wine bottles are taken out to the recycling before turning off the porch light, ready to retire for the night. He’s getting a glass of water when a sound pricks his ear.

The faintest knock. So quiet he would miss it had he been anywhere else in the house. Instantly on the defense, tall, broad frame coming to its full height, he’s prepared for the worst as he approaches the back door that leads to his small yard.

Another timid knock.

The biggest, warmest smile takes over his face as he opens the door and sees his visitor. There you stand, cheeks pink with cold and your lip trapped between your teeth. You sneak.

Robert quickly invites you inside, enveloping you with his warm body once you’ve toed off your boots. The hug has tension escaping every muscle, finally back in each other’s arms as it should be. The secrecy, while necessary, is the worst.

“Did you forget something?” His deep voice mumbles into your hair. You push back to look at his face, but his hands are steadfast on your hips, holding you exactly where he wants you. In the month of shared kisses and lighthearted flirting, he’s never had you alone in his house.

Resigned to resting your cheek against his shoulder, you reply, “Didn’t want anyone suspicious if I stayed behind.”

“Ah, so you did the ol’ double back?" You nod. "And you’re sure no one saw you?” His mischievous smile shows he’s all jokes, but in the back of his mind he’s curious if any of his neighbors saw you in the minute gap between your backyards. The same trek he’s been making for weeks after all the lights on the street are out.

You shake your head against his soft crewneck. It’s been three days since you’ve felt his warmth and you’re melting. The faint smell of sage and citrus - and a tinge of jet fuel - flooding your senses and you’re so glad you risked sneaking over.

Watching him host the HOA meeting with his little refreshment table? So hot.

While you both want to sit down over a cup of cocoa and catch up on how silly your neighbors are, something else is on your minds. It’s been lying dormant for weeks now, awaiting the moment to rear its head. And in the dim lighting of Robert’s house, on a quiet winter Friday night, the moment is just right.

The first kiss is intended to be innocent, lightly brushing his lips against yours to remind you of his affection. Enjoying the plush softness of your glossy lips. But when the softest of moans leaves you, desperation hits.

He needs you.

The two of you have been playing it safe - you are neighbors after all - but as mere mortals there are needs to be met. The softness of your skin. The broadness of his shoulders. The tension that has been building and building since he watched you dunk that tea bag and knew it was now or never.

You tear away from his face, as painful as it is, to rasp against his jaw. “Robert, your house is so nice. Can you show me your bedroom?”

Squeals of delight bounce off the hallway walls as he all but drags you to the other side of the house. His fingertips dig into your hips, a little too eager, his glasses slipping down his nose as he steals kisses. As he showers you in affection, you appreciate his home out of the corner of your eye. The small collection of black-and-white snapshots from different naval bases he’s worked on. A pencil holder that looks handmade. Your heart lurches for this man whose heart is too big for this bungalow.

Feet slow at a doorway, his hands steadying you against the frame. As you look up into his sky blue eyes, nerves shoot down both your spines. The delicious thought pops into your head that you’re finally going to see him naked and you feel lightheaded.

He can’t let himself think about your body or he will pass out.

His bedroom fits him. Lamps cast a cheery glow onto the mahogany dresser where he keeps a majority of the US Navy paraphernalia he’s been collecting since he was a child - little figurines and framed airshow stills. A large wingback chair sits cozily in the corner, laden with a flannel he had debated wearing; you’re glad he stuck with the buttery soft crewneck you can’t help running your palms over. And the main event, against the far wall, looking as inviting and luxurious as anything, is Robert’s king size bed. He prides himself on the curved wood headboard he spent a summer working on.

Tentatively, he takes your hand and invites you over the threshold. Your eyes rake over everything to find any red flags (none found - it’s okay he has a lot of plane figurines and not a lot of houseplants - he’s gone half the year, those plants are gonna die) before you let your fingers brush over the blue gray of his heavy plush comforter. Similar to his living room walls.

“You must like blue.”

Cerulean eyes sparkle. His fingers tangle in the cobalt cashmere of your sweater. “I really like blue.”

This time, your lips brush his. The softest sweep before letting yourself lean into him, greedily running your tongue across his thin lips, begging for entrance. His cheeks the softest mauve as he opens his mouth to groan his pleasure. Despite your new surroundings, it feels like home when your tiny pink tongue finds itself nestled against his.

A bolt of heat travels down your spine and your hands fist in his crewneck, torn between enjoying the soft fabric and wanting it off. While your hands are desperate and needy, running up and down his torso in indecision, he’s so soft and gentle with you. Fingers tracing the delicate slope of your jaw, a warm hand on your hip teasing the skin above your skirt. Sweet noises blown directly into your mouth as he savors your taste.

The past month has built this up. That year of tension? Absolutely nothing compared to the burning heat across your skin every time you see him now. You know how he tastes, how he smells, how he whines when you lick the spot behind his ear. The itch consuming your body needs to be scratched, needs to be tamed. You need him.

He seems to be on the same wavelength as you feel his hands lead your hips toward the bed, legs awkwardly backing up until they hit crisp bedding. The man keeps a tidy bed. You’re hopelessly more attracted to him.

Tenderly Robert lowers the two of you to the bed, your back relaxing against the blanket as your hair frames your face. The tips of his fingers trace your cheek as he appreciates how beautiful you are. Embarrassed by the attention, you pout until he brings his lips to yours again, loving the way his entire body encloses around you, keeping you safe.

Your legs have a mind of their own as they wrap around his hips, arms sliding down his torso. His cheeks heating as he catches onto you, his own hips rolling into yours. The low noises escaping your throat as he grinds against your bare thigh, turning him on even more. Your chest pressed against his, the swell of your breasts as your back arches - it’s heaven. If it weren’t for your grounding presence stroking a hand through his hair he would think Phoenix crashed the jet that afternoon.

Finally too impatient to wait any longer, you tug on the hem of Robert’s crewneck, silently begging for it to go. He sits up - awkward to do when his pelvis is glued against yours - and pinches the neck of it, shrugging it off his solid frame. Knocks his glasses askew a bit. When he turns back to you, white hot desire slaps you in the face. This six foot pilot, shirtless, with smoldering blue eyes behind fogged glasses and mussed hair? There are no words.

Who would have thought peppermint tea would lead to all this?

You lose yourself in his kisses again, running your hands along the smooth expanse of skin now available. Your hips desperately rutting against his for more friction, a pool of arousal settles in your underwear with how fucking good he looks covered in your affection. Your lips find his neck and suck, the sounds emitting from him indecent. His hands settle at the hem of your skirt, brushing the skin of your thighs as he worries the fabric, contemplating his next move.

“Please.” It’s quiet, but your plea nearly echos in the room. His eyes meet yours. “Please touch me.”

There’s no going back anymore. Reluctantly pulling away from your body, he lowers himself to his shins, large hands smoothing over your thighs. As he rubs soft circles into your muscles, the hem of your skirt shifts higher. His heart thuds at the sight of your gorgeous, soft thighs, completely on display for him. Tentatively he presses a kiss to your inner knee. When you don’t shy away, he pecks another slightly higher. His nose skims the thin skin and you whimper. It’s music to his ears.

Your skirt is nearly around your waist, delicate panties in view. Robert’s heart violently slams in his chest and his erection throbs, begging to be freed from his jeans. He can’t help but focus on the spot that conceals your center, your arousal wet and dark.

His lips kiss your inner thigh again, just inches from where you desperately want to feel them. “May I?”

You’re frantically nodding, your fingers crashing into his as you work in tandem to get the offending little piece of lace off. As they come down, his kisses trail up, teasing the skin to elicit tiny whimpers. Hot breath skims your pelvis and it’s torture. He delicately places your knees on his broad shoulders, warm skin on warm skin.

Propping yourself up on one elbow, desperate to see his face, his pretty blue eyes smile at you as he finally, finally licks one broad stripe up your folds.

Your brain effectively short circuits.

Like a broken dam, once he’s had a taste there is no going back. Hot, thick swipes over your wetness, desperate to soak up your sweet arousal. Unintentionally his nose crashes into your clit, his messy tongue work bringing him deeper and deeper within you. Above him, you’re singing his praises, mouth open wantonly. “Right there! Right there!”

The hours he’s spent wondering what you taste like, if you’re even sweeter than your kisses, have paid off. He’s addicted. Wrapping his arms around your gorgeous thighs, obscene sounds squelching from his lewd tongue, he brings a thumb to your clit to draw deliciously tight circles. The way your back arches has him panting.

It’s hard to tell whether it’s the tingle in your toes or the fiery knot in your stomach that grows faster. The way his tongue flicks over that ring of muscle has your head spinning. His lips capture a fold and suck, moaning at how sweet you are for him.

“Taste so good, baby. Knew you would, my sweet girl.”

Your head falls back when a finger prods at your opening, slipping through your silky wetness. If his tongue was good, his fingers are a gift. A thick digit that reaches deep, finding that spongey spot that makes your stomach curl. It works its way back and forth, bringing moans to your lips and entrancing him as he watches you take him so easily. He can barely help himself when he slips in a second, salivating over how effortlessly you stretch for him.

“That’s my girl, so good.”

Two fingers deep and a hot mouth on your clit, the world is careening around you. All sense of direction lost, too hot in your sweater, hips desperately following his lips and fingers. Your hand shoves in his hair, holding him there because it feels so good. He thrusts deeper, stretching his fingers within your tight walls. The pressure against your cervix and clit make your head pound. And then suddenly…

“R-Rob-by!” You wail into the bedroom, voice lost amongst the hot air and salacious sounds coming from between your legs. Thighs tightening around his cheeks, knees buckling as you bring your legs to your torso, curling into yourself as your orgasm blindsides you. Your brain dizzy with pleasure and relief as he keeps working his tongue within you, one hand stroking your stomach soothingly as the other disappears over the edge of the bed.

Time disappears as you lazily ride his tongue until the oversensitivity kicks in. As your hips squirm away, he presses one last kiss to your clit before dragging himself up to stand. Despite only having two brain cells left after your orgasm, you’re instantly wet again watching how he grinds his palm against the thick bulge in his jeans.

“That feel good?” Your eyes droop happily as you nod, a little sheepish. “You are so gorgeous, so good for me. I’m a lucky man.”

As you sit up on boneless limbs, he swoops down to press a kiss on your sweet lips. The tangy linger of your taste coats his mouth. By itself it’s sexy, but then you see the wet smudges and fog of his glasses, askew on his nose from where he pressed so hard into your cunt, and a deep groan escapes as you attach yourself to him again.

Reaching down, your fingers are desperately working the button of his jeans - the need to feel every part of him against you so dire - but he’s stilling your hands, kissing along your neck. A little flushed at how close he is to cumming at the thought of your hands on him.

His lips brush your ear. “Want to enjoy your mouth any other time, but I really need to be inside you. Please.”

You’re both openly moaning out your insatiable hunger as you fall back and scoot toward the pillows, sitting up on your knees to unzip your skirt and discard it and your sweater. His hand dips beneath his jeans as he soaks up your skin, the way your bra just barely covers your nipples. He makes no show of pushing down his jeans, pulling them from around his ankles along with his socks. His mind is carnally focused on getting you completely naked as he tugs the front of his boxer briefs down to relieve the pressure on his cock.

The two fingers suddenly make sense. Robert is a big guy - not quite as big as the rest of his squadron, but naturally takes up space with his broad shoulders and large hands - and you feel silly for not connecting the dots. His cock is thick, veiny and red tipped, balls bulging with cum. You gulp down a thick breath knowing he’s about to cram every inch of it into you. This is what you’ve been waiting for.

Since the moment Robert stood on your stoop and introduced himself, the magnet between you has fought harder and harder to bring you together. Pulling by invisible strings, bidding their time, until they finally snapped and you gave into your desires, hands rushing all over while taking time to learn the curve of each other’s bodies. Finding the freckles on his shoulders. Exploring the dip of your back. And as you lay beneath your next door neighbor, breaths heavy and nervous and excited, you allow the magnets to snap together fully as he slowly thrusts his hips until they mesh into yours.

He’s deliciously thick, stretching every part of you as he pants heavily into your neck. Kisses sooth your skin while your nails mark his. In the low light of the room, he gazes at you, so enamored with the way you look taking him. The obscene wet sounds of his hips meeting yours, slow and steady so he can savor the way you squeeze him. Your whimpered noises spurring him on.

You bring a hand to his cheek, using every ounce of will to focus on his sweet face. “This is…this is even better than I imagined.”

He couldn’t agree more. Paired with the dreamily debauched smile on your face, his hips piston faster, arms squeezing tighter as you moan wildly. Bodies vibrating with pleasure, your legs wrap around his thighs for the leverage to meet his thrusts. He grunts as hands tangle in his hair, pulling lightly. The eye contact is intense, unable to look away as you both feel the build up. God, his eyes are the perfect shade of blue.

Your fingers slip to your clit, ready to propel you to the finish, when his thumb knocks you away. His circles are tight and rough as he gazes at you with desire-dark eyes. “It’s okay, let me help you.”

Your kind and overly helpful neighbor. Who lends you his lawn mower and hangs up Christmas lights. Who always compliments your coffee. Who times his thrust with a harsh push to your clit and has you immediately careening off the cliff, seeing bursts of light as your second orgasm of the night envelopes you.

His mouth attaches to yours, tongue lapping up your taste, as you moan through your aftershocks. His cock is still deep, stroking that spongey wall as he works you through and chases his own pleasure. You’re still so tight around him and he’s ready to cum. Making sure his lips don’t leave yours, he draws back and thrusts deeply, watching the way your body surges with his strength. Once, twice, and your eyes roll back as he lets go, filling you with his spend so you have everything he can give.

A streetlamp flicks on through the window. You’re only just catching your breath when Robert slips from the bed. A tap turns, there’s some rustling, and he returns with a soft cloth to help you clean up. Too tired to speak, the two of you just exchange sweet smiles as he once again comes to your aid.

The bed dips and he’s back against your body, cocooned in his dreamy coverlet, clean-shaven face pressing kisses against yours. His cheeks the lightest pink as he lowly whispers, “Hi.”

You can’t help the wide grin that overtakes your features. “Hi.”

No other words are needed to express the satiated happiness bursting through your hearts and every pore. His arms wrap around your bare shoulders tighter. A full year of pining for you, of making any excuse to help out to be in your presence…so worth it for the way his whole body feels whole when you’re around.

Sleepy eyes flutter up at him, trying so hard to stay awake and enjoy this time together. He presses a kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger on the light layer of sweat his deep thrusts caused. If only his squadron could see him now, his sweet little neighbor half-asleep after a night with him.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he mutters into your hairline as he pulls the blanket around your shoulders. You barely hear him as you begin to dream about a sandy-haired man who brought you the sun, the moon, and the stars.

When the first streams of morning light begin pouring in - because someone was a little too busy doing the deed to close the curtain - two sets of eyes pop open. You’re facing each other, foreheads rested upon the same pillow, eyes half-slits as you adjust to the light. Robert radiates heat, and you curl even closer into him. His lips turn in a satisfied smile as you burrow into his chest.

As the sun rises higher in the sky, the two of you continue chatting in low voices. Legs tangled under the sheets, Robert’s head propped up as he listens to your story about accidentally setting your old kitchen on fire trying to make pancakes. His deep laugh crinkles his eyes, pausing to press the lightest kiss to the corner of your pouting mouth.

You’re just starting to lean into the kisses - hard not to when he looks so kissable - when a grumbly gurgle sounds out from below the covers. Both of your eyes shoot toward your abdomen, a hungry monster in the midst.

“You hungry?” His eyes are so impossibly sweet. You nod slightly, embarrassed at your crass stomach. But he’s already giving you a kind smile and helping you out of the bed, finding a pair of sweatpants and a weathered soft hoodie to keep you warm.

In plaid pajama pants, your neighbor guides you to his kitchen, with the cheery maple cabinets and old-fashioned diner clock, and settles you onto the bench seat in the breakfast nook. “Coffee? Tea…peppermint tea?”

It should actually be illegal how good he looks when he winks at you with that little smirk shirtless.

“Coffee is fine,” you reply, your cheeks hot. He busies himself with coffee and contemplates what he has to constitute for breakfast, and you busy yourself with the day before’s paper. He’s started the sudoku, but abandoned it when his sister called.

Vaguely familiar with the puzzle game, you look at the little scribbled numbers in the boxes to see where he’s left off. Either the mind-blowing sex or lack of caffeine has gotten to you, because you haven’t a clue where to start from.

A steaming mug is placed before you before an arm wraps around your shoulders, looking over your progress. “Yeah, I was stumped too.”

He walks you through his thought process, thick, long fingers tracing over the paper as he points out what should fill out each box. Your eyes stray to him over and over, enjoying how passionate he is about his daily activity. Watching him blush and tilt your head back to the puzzle every time he notices you staring.

You’ve finally gotten a few boxes sorted out when you remember your coffee. Placing a thankful kiss to his cheek, you take a small sip.

“I don’t know how to say this nicely, but this is the worst cup of coffee I’ve ever had in my life.”

Your expression is neutral, trying to keep the disgusted look off your face (unsuccessfully) and he bursts out laughing. Pushing the mug as far as possible from you, missing the delicious imported coffee in your own kitchen, you gladly accept the kiss he presses to your cheek as an apology for the worst thing you have ever consumed.

“How about you are in charge of drinks from now on and I’ll be in charge of food?”

You eye him wearily. “If that’s how you make coffee, I’m scared to see what your cooking skills are like.”

He promises you that his mom requests his lasagna recipe every time he’s back home, and that he’s fairly capable of putting pre-made things in the oven. Good enough for you. Leaning in and molding your mouth to his, the two of you share enough kisses that his bad coffee grows cold.

Turning your attention back to the sudoku puzzle, eager to finish, Robert tightens his grip on your waist. Appreciates the way you look in his clothes after spending the night in his bed. The excited look in your eyes as you solve another box. God, you look so good in his life.

He muses privately that you should just sell your house. He has no plans to ever let you go.

taglist: @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @creatchie8 @hangmanapologist @just-in-case-iloveyou @maryelizabeth13 @petersunderoos96 @rhettsluvr @roosterforme @topherwrites @yuckosworld

join the taglist here

#robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd fic #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fan fiction #robert bob floyd fan fiction #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd smut #top gun maverick smut #top gun maverick fan fiction #robert bob floyd x you #bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #f reader

1K notes · View notes

literaryvein-reblogs · 1 month ago

Text

How to Dress your Character

A Guide to Dress Codes

When attending an event, it's essential to understand the dress code—and know when to bend the rules.

White tie: White tie is a formal dress code typically reserved for galas and state dinners. For men, swap your black tie dinner jacket for a single-breasted tailcoat and a wing-collar white shirt with mother of pearl shirt studs. You'll also need a white bowtie and a white vest. If you want to go ultra-traditional, you can lace up your black patent leather shoes with black ribbon. For women, it's time to break out the floor-length ball gown and long gloves.

Black tie: Black tie is a formal dress code common for formal evening events. Traditional black tie for men entails a single- or double-breasted dinner jacket and matching trousers worn with a pleated white dress shirt with a turndown-collar. It's generally fine to veer slightly from the black tuxedo: More creative black tie options include midnight blue tuxedos and white dinner jackets. Finish the look with cufflinks, a black bow tie, a white pocket square, black patent leather shoes, and black dress socks. Cummerbunds (waist coverings) and vests are optional—just don't wear them together. The black tie dress code for women is a little more flexible: You'll want a knee-length to floor-length evening dress. Accessorize with heels or flat dress shoes, a clutch, and minimal jewelry.

Black tie optional: When an invitation says "black tie optional," the expectation is that you'll either wear black-tie attire or something similar but a little more relaxed—like a dark suit or elegant cocktail dress.

Cocktail attire: Cocktail attire, also known as semi-formal attire, is the style of clothing you'll wear to evening events like fundraisers and weddings. Cocktail dress code involves casual suits and dress shirts for men. Stick to wool suits in dark colors in winter; for summertime and outdoor cocktail events, you can wear a light-colored suit in a breathable material like seersucker or linen. Oxfords, loafers, and brogues are acceptable footwear choices. A cocktail dress is fancier than a sundress but more casual than an evening gown. When in doubt, go for the classic little black dress. Not wearing a dress? Go for a dark suit or dressy separates.

Business casual: Business casual doesn’t necessarily mean casual—what it actually means is that you don’t have to wear a suit and tie. Business casual workwear usually includes a collared shirt (button-up or polo shirt) or sweater on top, and dress pants, khakis, chinos, or a pencil skirt on the bottom. You may also wish to add a blazer or sport coat, but you don’t necessarily need a custom-tailored suit jacket. Shoes should be closed-toe and professional, whether you choose boots, heels, flats, loafers, mules, or oxfords.

Dressy casual: Dressy casual, also known as “smart casual,” is an upgraded version of casualwear, generally more suited to job interviews, client meetings, and casual nighttime events. For a dressy casual dress code, break out trendier pieces, like jumpsuits, blazers, and high-end footwear. Instead of T-shirts, opt for button-downs and blouses.

Casual: Casual attire is the least restrictive dress code, but this doesn’t mean you should dress quite as casually as you would at home. Jeans and T-shirts in solid colors are okay, but stay away from graphic tees, flip-flops, and anything ripped or stained. Depending on the season, you may want to wear full-coverage shorts or a casual sundress. Casual dress codes are typical for low-key and outdoor events.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

#dress code #fashion #writing notes #character development #writeblr #literature #writers on tumblr #writing reference #dark academia #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #writing inspiration #light academia #writing ideas #simeon solomon #writing resources

243 notes · View notes

illubean · 2 months ago

Note

Heyyy, so I’m like reaaaally tall and I wanted to ask if you’d be comfortable with writing headcanons about the Phantome troupe (or just feitan, uvogin and Hisoka) with a tall fem!s/o? Like 6’2 or 6’3 , cuz I really like your other headcanons and I can’t find any of those ANYWHERE… :,)

Phantom Troupe w/ a Tall!Fem!Reader

Characters: Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor, Uvogin Type: Headcanons, Fem!Reader

Haven’t written hxh for a hot minute… replaced Hisoka w/ Chrollo cus I don’t write for him! also reader is intended to be in the 6’0+ range

Warnings: a tad suggestive?

Chrollo Lucilfer

I personally think Chrollo is a certified tall girl lover

never be afraid to wear heels/platforms around him because he’s literally obsessed with you

his favorite thing ever is when you wear shorts/skirts/anything that shows off your legs

if anyone tried giving him shit for having a gf who’s taller than him he doesn’t care because thats little dick energy and Chrollo is NOT part of that club

tall or not he likes having you in his lap, his palms resting on the outside of your thighs or around your waist

who cares if it looks silly to other people? he adores you

he insists on helping you put on/take off your shoes every time, often pressing a kiss to your ankle and telling you how pretty you are GAHHH

touchy touchy man in private, always laying on your lap, caressing your thighs or offering you specifically leg massages

he may or may not be a teeny bit of a perv

he just can’t help it :(( he wants to spoil his tall baby

we already touched on the shorts and skirts thing but this guy goes NUTS if you wear stockings/fishnets/thigh highs etc. like YESSS THANK THE LAWD

he is not above getting on his knees and quite literally worshipping you, kissing up the length of your leg

ok let me stop before i get freaky

Feitan Portor

oh boy

Feitan is already used to being relatively shorter than people, it wasn’t new to him

but he didn’t expect to get with someone DAMN NEAR A WHOLE FOOT TALLER

you guys are like the big and friendly x small and scary ship dynamic except reversed gender role i guess

as previously mentioned in another headcanon post i did similar to this, Feitan likes being shorter than you for 2 main reasons

1. so he can sneak up on you easier and 2. because he’s practically eye level with your chest..

he likes it when you hug him so he can just faceplant into your rack then blame it on the height difference

he likes to sneak up on you and watch you nearly jump out of your skin because you literally didn’t see him coming

he’s not at all insecure about your height difference but he does get annoyed if you or anyone else teases him

if you tried leaning an arm atop his head or something he would dodge you with a scowl and give you the silent treatment for the next 10 minutes because how dare you!?

he is small but mighty, so if you ever try to pick him up or something he WILL fight back

9 times out of 10 you end up splayed out on the floor while he stomps away, a little salty

but he doesn’t mind so much in private

he actually DEMANDS to be the little spoon

he likes the feeling of having your larger form wrapped around him :3

Uvogin

yeah so no matter how tall you are you’re probably never ever going to be taller than this guy soz

he’s like over 8 feet tall

so needless to say your height doesn’t matter much to him..

but I think he probably has a preference for taller women because it just makes things easier for him

also wtf would it look like if this guy was dating someone under 5’4…it would look suspicious even if they’re an adult……..

so yeah he like’s that you’re tall even though you’re still pretty short compared to him

he likes that he has easier access to kiss you instead of having to lean down ridiculously far (even though around 2 feet is still kind of ridiculous…)

another one who likes it when you show your legs off

to be fair, he likes it when you show skin in general but yeah

cannot keep his hands off you ever

he always has an arm slung over your shoulders or if you’re sitting his insanely large hand is resting on your thigh

he doesn’t shy away from pda ever and it kind of annoys some of the other troupe members..

but yeah you guys are giants in love <3

153 notes · View notes

anakinstwinklebunny · 6 months ago

Text

Pairing: dilf!anakin x f!reader

Because what's better than to have mind blowing sex in the car?

The tension between you had been simmering all day. The stolen glances, the teasing brush of his hand against your waist, his voice in your ear telling you to 'wait until later', to both your disappointment and excitement. Were you this desperate to have more than make out session with him? Well, ovulation changes women in all different ways. But now, in the secluded quiet of his parked car, later had finally arrived.

Anakin’s hand gripped the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, instantly seeking entrance to your mouth with his tongue while his fingers threaded through your soft hair. The taste of him flooded your senses, making you dizzy with everything that began running down your body, pooling the spot between your legs. He growled into your mouth, breaking the kiss for a moment, his breath warm against your lips.

“You’ve been teasing me all day, baby,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust. “Do you know how hard it was to keep my hands off you? To just tell you to wait till later?”

You could barely form words, your mind clouded by the heat of his body against yours, the way his hands roamed over your hips, sliding down to cup your ass. You gasped when he squeezed, almost groped at your ass with so much possessiveness.

“Anakin,” you whimpered, already breathless, your heart racing in your chest. “Please…” you waited too long to wait any longer

He smirked at your desperation, that wicked look in his eyes making your stomach flip. He loved having you like this—needy, desperate, practically begging for him. But he wasn’t going to make it easy, obviously.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” His voice was low, teasing, as his hand moved to slipp under your skirt, fingers brushing over the soaked fabric of your panties. “You’re already soaking, baby. You really are my dirty little girl.”

Your breath hitched, your hips instinctively grinding against his hand as you nodded, needing more, needing him to touch you where you craved him most, where it hurt the most.

“Say it,” he demanded, his thumb pressing lightly against your clit through the fabric, just enough to make you moan. “Tell me you're my dirty little girl"

“im your dirty little girl” you gasped, your hands clutching at the car's doors.

"great" he smiled proudly "now tell daddy what you want like a good girl would"

“I want you to fuck me. I need you inside me, please.”

Chuckle left his throat, clearly showing how pleased he was with your begging. “That’s it” he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses when his fingers slipped inside your panties, finally sliding through your clothed slick folds.

You moaned, your head falling back when he began rubbing your clit in slow, teasing circles. It felt divine, to finally have him finger-fuck you in the car. Where people could easily see you moaning for the man who's older than you, yet it drove you absolutely crazy and you wouldn't care if someone saw you..maybe now.

Without warning, Anakin tugged your panties down your legs, leaving them on the gearshift before leaning back in his seat. His eyes raked over you, as if he was a starving beast. “Climb on top of me, baby.”

Your hands trembled as you straddled him, your knees sinking into the leather seats as you positioned yourself over his lap. His hands slid up your thighs, gripping your hips firmly as he pulled you down, grinding your bare pussy against his rock-hard length, still, unfortunately, confined in his pants.

“Feel that?” his voice deliciously raspy “Feel how hard I am for you, baby?”

You nodded, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you rocked your hips, because why not? In your whole life you've never felt more horny than now and all you wanted was more friction, more of him in you. It almost felt like the only dream you've ever truly wanted. He groaned, his grip tightening on your hips, guiding your movements as his cock pressed so amazingly against your clit through the fabric.

“Such a greedy little thing,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear. “You want it that bad? You want Daddy’s cock stretching you out? Making you forget your name?”

“Yes,” you panted “Please, need it so bad…”

With a clench of his jaw, Anakin reached down, unbuckling his belt to free his cock. The sight of him—thick, hard, and already leaking for you—made your mouth water. You positioned yourself over him again, and with one slow, deliberate motion, you sank down onto his length, both of you gasping as he filled you completely.

“Fuck,” Anakin groaned, his brows furrowing at such intense squeeze of your walls around his length “Squeezing me like there's no tomorrow” his hands gripped your hips, the long fingers digging into the flesh of your skin

You whimpered, your hands bracing against his chest as you started to move, your hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles. The feeling of him stretching you, filling you, was almost too much, but you wanted more. You needed more.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he urged, his hands guiding your movements. “Ride me. I want to watch you fuck yourself on my cock.”

You obeyed, lifting yourself up and sinking back down, your pace quickening as the pleasure began building inside you. Every time you slammed down onto him, the head of his cock hit that perfect spot inside you, making stars burst behind your eyes. Was it how heavens feels like?

“Look at you,” he groaned, his eyes dark with need while he watched you ride him, your body moving so desperately against his. “Such a dirty little girl, fucking me in the car. You like it, don’t you? You like being Daddy’s filthy little thing.”

"so much.." the words slipped out from your throat in choked way. The pleasure was building rapidly, your body trembling as you rode him faster, your hands now gripping, squeezing, almost digging your nails, his shoulders for support.

“Should have known I have such a greedy not fulfilled sweetheart by my side..Just begging me to fuck her senseless, fill her up till she's bursting with my seed” he thrusted his hips up to yours, making you feel your climax building - a pressure that felt like a drum that beat across your pelvis “Come for me" he moaned "Want to feel you come on my cock.”

With one final thrust, you came undone, your body tensing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. You cried out his name, your walls clenching around him as your orgasm ripped through you.

"but-more..give me more" you begged again, in this whiny tone he always loved, because he knew this aching feeling shooting your nerves all over

"gonna give you a real reason to scream" he answered to your plea, thrusting harder and faster, the air in the car seemed to disappear, the windows fogging slowly. Your nails digging painfully to his shoulder, yet, he didn't stop you from doing so. Feeling your walls hug his length with so much desperation. Your orgasm surging to the fore, threatening to break free.

Anakin wasn’t far behind. With a deep, guttural groan, he slammed into you one last time, his cock pulsing inside you as he spilled himself deep, his grip on your hips bruising as he held you in place.

You collapsed against his chest, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies still tangled together. His hands slid up and down your back in soothing strokes as you came down from your high, the aftershocks of your orgasm still making your body tremble.

his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass one last time. “Next time, we’ll have to try this in the backseat. More room to really fuck you the way you like.”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentine @sevinax

344 notes · View notes

melanchoire · 18 days ago

Note

secretary yuna who makes everything to tease ceo reader patience to the limit, she foes to work with the shortest skirts ever and almost unbuttoned blouse just to tease you, she knew you were into women, how? she just knew it, one time alone you called her to your office, asking her to be more modest to dress bc she was distracting her coworkers, she getting up from the chair to sit in front of you on your desk and open her legs to touch herself feeling her panties getting wet “distracting them or you?” she teases, she knows you keep staring at her waaaayyy too much and even glancing at her ass when she bends over to pick up something or on a desk to talk with her friends and her skirt lifts up a bit, tired of her bratty behavior you grab her by the throat and give her pussy an spank “you want to be a slut? then i threat you like one”, yuna came multiple times from the amount of spanks on her pussy and then the violent fingering that came after making her squirt, you were so fucking wet as well just by seeing her squirm and hearing her pornographic moans, so you made her kneel to eat you out on your chair, she is so wonderful and skillful with her tongue, you end up squirting on her pretty face ruining her make up, she looked so hot that you pushed her face on your cunt once again, of course you needed more of her after this

cw:

it’s known that yuna’s style is based mostly on short and tight clothing because she loves that type of clothing and is fascinated by how it highlights her curves and the shape of her body! she knows she is hot and anyone who sees her is enchanted by her small waist and the soft curves of her hips, she is too beautiful and knows how to take advantage of it… and of course she would continue to maintain those preferences even if she had a job that required professional and formal clothing for the occasion! she may be a secretary in a sophisticated company where everyone is well dressed and never out of dress code, but tight shirts and pencil skirts are something that are added to the shopping cart of the virtual clothing sites where she buys most of her wardrobe items 🥰

yuna always makes sure to look attractive and beautiful, spending more time than allowed on her break looking at her makeup in the bathroom mirror and touching up her makeup or perfectly styled hair, when you’re in your office waiting for her to come back because you two have an important meeting in less than ten minutes and she is taking forever to “go pee” like she excused herself twenty minutes ago! she was basically trying to play with your patience and make you explode, but you wouldn’t give her the pleasure of making you angry because you couldn’t leave professionalism behind because of a simple hot secretary 😤

and no matter how much you call her attention and ask her in a kind and gentle tone to respect your company’s dress code and please start wearing dress pants or knee–length skirts, it seems that you’re speaking in another language that she does not understand because the day after your warning she appears with a much shorter skirt and a shirt with more buttons undone?? you always smiled when you heard her sweet voice call you as she entered your office with breakfast in hand, only to look up from your computer and find her wearing the shortest, tightest clothes possible… making your smile fade and you feel the need to scold her

she also doesn’t seem to mind when other employees blatantly stare at her ass and ogle her! ughhh yuna completely enjoys the looks she always gets from her coworkers, smiling smugly when she knows she is being looked at from head to toe with hunger in her eyes... and that only encourages her to dress more provocatively 🤗

and one day you finally get fed up with her unacceptable attitude and call her into your office, saying that you hope this is the first and last time you have to go to the trouble of reminding her of the company rules and the dress code that she has to follow and you wouldn’t even have to remind her because it’s more than obvious that she should comply... but apparently, yuna wants to bother you 🥰 as anon said, yuna would sit on top of the desk, spreading her legs and sliding a hand under her skirt, thinking that she can take control of the situation but forgets that you’re the authority here

pussy slapping for yuna :( as twisted as it sounds, she somehow enjoys the slapping?? she even cums because it feels so good… sorry, but painslut yuna 🙏🏻 she may be whimpering and whining every time your palm brutally impacts her pussy, but really, inside she is begging you to please continue 😵‍💫

ending it all by telling her to stop giving you excuses and false apologies and use her mouth for the only thing she's good at, which is being a whore

so yeah, it ends with your dress pants discarded on the floor, legs draped over each of the armrests of the desk chair, having your cute secretary on her knees in front of you and eating your pussy in apology for not respecting company rules and making you angry more than once <3

but even in such a humiliating position you still remain an annoying brat because she would be teasing your clit with the tip of her tongue all the time and slowing down her fingers pounding into your pussy just as you seem to be about to cum :( i’m sorry but she keeps the title of brat son of a bitch who seems to enjoy playing with your patience EVEN THOUGH it’s enough to grab her hair tightly and warn her that you will give her a stronger and more painful punishment if she continues to provoke you in this way, nut no matter how many warnings you give, she will play with your sanity anyway

#yuna #yuna x fem reader #yuna x reader #yuna smut #shin yuna #shin yuna x fem reader #shin yuna x reader #shin yuna smut #itzy #itzy x fem reader #itzy x reader #itzy smut

109 notes · View notes

dark-fics-4-you · 1 year ago

Text

After Hours Lesson

dark!Professor!Coriolanus Snow x f!Reader

A/N: i imagine coryo as being in his late 30s to mid 40s in this fic, but I left his age open to imagination. Reader is 21 and I imagine her as not being a virgin

Warnings: noncon, forced sex, somno, fingering, choking, strangling, drugging, teacher x student relationship, slapping, unprotected sex, creampie, size kink

it wasn’t everyday that one of your university professors invited the entire class out to dinner at a nice restaurant, so of course you wanted to dress your best. looking at yourself in the mirror, you felt that the soft button-down white shirt and grey houndstooth jacket paired well with your pleated grey skirt, knee length white socks and black mary janes, and it was an outfit that would surely impress your professor.

only a couple other students had arrived so far and as soon as you made your way over to the table, you noticed his eyes on you. “y/n! sit by me,” he smiled at you charmingly, gesturing to the empty chair beside him. you nervously complied, shooting him a smile before sliding in to the open chair.

the entire night you could feel him looking over at you, even when he was in conversation with other students, his gaze always seemed to drift over to you.

it was your senior year at university and you had opted to take an elective class with a popular professor, professor coriolanus snow. you were surprised when you walked in on the first day and found that most of the students were women. apparently rumors about professor snow’s good looks had gone around the school, but you hadn’t heard anything about them when you were registering for classes, you just thought the course looked interesting.

“are you going to get a glass of wine?”

his question roused you from your thoughts and you blinked at him before he questioned you again. “well you’re 21, right?”

“i am, but i don’t know if i should drink tonight.” you replied nervously. “i mean, would that be okay?”

you looked around the table, noting that two of your classmates were also drinking.

“of course, y/n.” he told you before addressing the table, “dinner and drinks are on me, i’m paying for it all.”

you smiled at his generosity and thanked him before picking up a menu and browsing the wine list.

even though professor snow was in a conversation with the other students, when he saw you looking unsure about what to order he leaned over and pointed to an expensive vintage red.

“this is one of my absolute favorites. i think you’ll love it.” he caught the eye of a waiter and ordered you a glass before you could even think it over, much less process the price.

the appetizers were brought out to the table quickly, and you were excited to try the array of choices professor snow had ordered for the table.

before you could reach for one of them, coriolanus picked up the plate you had been eyeing and offered to serve you.

“oh, yes please, thank you very much professor snow!” you smiled at him and offered your own plate to him.

he placed two pieces of toasted bread on your plate before grabbing small bowl of the tomato sauce it came with to spoon some onto your plate.

his wrist slipped however and he accidentally dropped a bit of sauce onto the exposed skin of your mid-thigh, just below where your skirt ended.

before you could even react, your professor was apologizing profusely and he grabbed a napkin off the table and gently wiped up the red sauce.

you shivered when you felt his fingers brush against your skin as he cleaned you off and you felt a hot flush rising to your cheeks.

“thanks, i’m gonna um, finish cleaning this up in the bathroom.” you nervously told him, flinching away from his touch and rushing to the restroom.

you quickly locked yourself into a stall, breathing heavily as you tried to calm yourself. he was your professor! you didn’t want to be getting butterflies in your stomach at his touch.

you finished cleaning off the small remnants of the sauce on your leg, taking a deep breath and collecting yourself before going back out to the table.

your wine had arrived, as well as all of the entrees and you took a bite before trying a sip of the wine. it was probably the best drink you had ever tasted in your life and you looked over to see your professor staring at you with a raised eyebrow, as if to say ‘what do you think?’

“wow this wine is amazing!” you told him appreciatively and he grinned back at you.

“i knew you would like it, y/n. young ladies like you usually don’t have such good taste, but i had a feeling you would appreciate it.”

his thoughtful words made your cheeks flush again and you bashfully thanked him for the compliment.

you sipped the wine, enjoying the way it’s flavor profile complimented the dish you got perfectly. it must have been a higher alcohol percentage than usual however, because you were already feeling it’s effects strongly after drinking less than half.

“what are your plans once you graduate, y/n?” the sound of your professor’s voice surprised you and you met his gaze as you answered.

“i’m hoping to go to law school after i graduate.” you responded, pride rising in your chest as you thought of all the hard work you had put in to reaching your goal of law school.

“that makes perfect sense for a bright girl like you. i’m sure you’ll excel there,” he confidently told you.

his focus shifted to the other students and as the night carried on and you drank more of your wine, you found yourself feeling very tipsy.

after professor snow paid the bill and everyone finished up their goodbyes, you stood to leave and you were surprised when the world started tilting beneath your feet.

a firm hand steadied you at your waist, and you turned to see your professor behind you.

“are you okay?” he asked, voice filled with concern.

you tried to stand on your own again, only to nearly fall over a second time. “i don’t think so, i feel kind of drunk,” you slurred.

he frowned and looked at you with worry on his face.

“i don’t think you should drive yourself home right now, y/n. why don’t you let me take you?”

you wanted to argue with him and disagree, but when you tried to stand on your own again and felt so dizzy you could have fainted, you realized he was probably right.

“okay,” you mumbled, allowing him to support you as he walked you to his car.

your professor helped you in to the passenger seat, making sure you had buckled yourself in before going to the driver’s side.

you leaned your head against the cool window, trying to stop your head from spinning as professor snow pulled out of his parking spot and started driving.

you were watching the street lights blur past, struggling to keep your heavy eyelids open, when you realized you hadn’t told him your address.

you opened your mouth to speak, but the next time you blinked, darkness filled your vision and you slipped into unconsciousness.

you woke to the feeling of warm, wet lips enveloping one of your nipples.

when your eyes cracked opened, you were almost too shocked to believe what you were seeing.

your jacket was missing, and your white button up top was split open, exposing your bare breasts. your professor was positioned on top of your, lips attached to your nipple as his hands squeezed and caressed your tits.

you were laying on a large bed, in what was definitely not your house and you felt like an idiot for not realizing that everything was off earlier.

terror filled you chest, lodging itself in you throat, and you tried to squirm away, but your body was frozen in place and your limbs felt so heavy you could barely move.

coriolanus sensed that you had woken up and when he looked down at you with a devilish grin, you shivered in fear.

“don’t try anything, y/n.” your professor’s cool tone made your stomach twist in disgust and a horrible chill passed over you as you realized this was why he had offered to drive you home.

“professor-” his lips smothered yours, cutting off your wavering voice before you could protest. your stomach flipped when he kissed you and your jaw dropped in surprise allowing him to force his tongue into your mouth.

when he finally pulled away, you gasped for breath. you saw stars behind your eyes and you weren’t sure if you were dizzy because of how fast the room was spinning or because of the way he had kissed you.

“you’re so beautiful, y/n, you know that?” he softly breathed. “ever since entered my class that first day, i thought you were perfect.”

your pulse was racing in your ears, anxiety gripping your throat as you helplessly looked up at him. everything was moving too fast, and your brain couldn’t accept the reality you had woken up in.

“and then tonight when you walked in with this innocent little school girl look? fuck, it took all of my self control not to rip this off of you and bend you over the table in front of your classmates,” coriolanus chuckled darkly, eyes scanning your body as he did.

his words were revolting, but even worse was the feeling of his fingers brushing your thighs as he lifted up your skirt. coriolanus situated himself between your legs, greedily admiring the soft skin of your thighs before pushing your skirt up and exposing more of you to his probing eyes.

when he saw the white, lacy panties you were wearing, he paused, tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he took in the view before him. “aw sweetheart, did you wear these just for me?”

your cheeks flushed with shame and embarrassment at his words and he chuckled again at your silence.

the older man traced the lace near your hips before looping his fingers under the soft material and tugging your panties down. you tried to squeeze your legs together to stop him, but your professor easily pushed them open again and dragged your panties off of you.

you flinched when you felt professor snow’s hand nearing your core, and he held down one of your legs in a tight grip.

the tip of his finger traced your slit and you whimpered at the feeling. was this really happening? how had you found yourself drugged out of your mind at the mercy of your professor?

coriolanus watched your face as he slowly slid one finger into your heat. you were already so wet, he didn’t even need to warm you up, and the way you clenched around just one of his fingers had his pants growing tight.

your lips parted in surprise, a small moan crawling out of your throat. his finger curled inside you and tears came to your eyes when you felt yourself squeezing around his finger.

“you’re so wet,” he groaned before sliding his middle finger into you.

you tensed beneath him, whining when the pressure between your legs doubled.

“just relax,” your professor’s voice was a bit shaky as he pumped his fingers in and out of your cunt.

coriolanus’s thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive cluster of nerves. your body was tingling, every sensation was heightened in your fear and you couldn’t stop yourself from loudly moaning as he massaged your inner walls.

you realized you could feel yourself growing wetter and you blinked hot tears from your eyes. you were disgusted by everything that was happening, so why were you shifting your hips to match the thrusts of his fingers?

the twisted pleasure was building in your gut and coriolanus could feel it too. his thumb swirled over your clit and you came undone around his fingers. your thighs quaked as your professor fucked you with his fingers through your orgasm, and your mind felt blank as you numbly sagged against his bed. shame and guilt fogged your mind, and you felt completely betrayed by your body

coriolanus slowly pulled his fingers out of you before pulling them apart slowly and watching your slick juices stick to his spread fingers in thin, pearly strings.

the older man brought his fingers to his lips, licking your juices off of his fingers while gazing at you through half lidded eyes.

“mmm, you taste so sweet, y/n,” he purred and when you realized you got butterflies in your stomach at his words, you felt bile rise in your throat.

he started unbuttoning his shirt and you could feel the room spinning around you. you wanted to look away, but you were weighed down by terror and too scared to even blink.

coriolanus removed his shirt, revealing his muscular, but still lean physique. panic began to really set in when he unbuttoned his pants and removed them and his boxers. your eyes widened at the sight of his erect length. he was bigger than any of the few guys you had been with before, and also unlike your previous experience, coriolanus was determined to take things at his pace.

you felt light-headed and you could barely twitch your muscles, much less move your limbs. that didn’t stop you from trying though, and pure adrenaline gave you the strength to squeeze your legs shut and attempt to prevent what you already knew was coming.

given everything your professor had done to you up until this point— drugging you, kidnapping you, trapping you in his house, and now forcing himself upon you— you would have thought that you wouldn’t be surprised when he slapped you across the face with the back of his hand.

any delusion you may have been desperately clinging to that coriolanus snow was a ‘good’ man shattered then and there.

your head whipped to the side and your field of vision went white for a moment. white hot pain seared into your cheek and when you opened your eyes again, they were blurry with tears.

the sight of you trembling and crying beneath him was a sight that your professor had been secretly fantasizing about for months and now that he was finally witnessing it firsthand, he was eager to make all of his deepest desires a reality.

“don’t fight it, y/n.” his voice was shaking with excitement as he positioned himself between your legs and started lining up the tip of his cock with your slick cunt. you whined when you felt the head slide between your lips and start to push inside of you.

his tip slid past the resistance of your tight grip, but he tilted his hips back to pull out, and you felt confused and hurt when your body wanted more.

professor snow grinned down at you wickedly, relishing the sight of your eyes begging with his and your plump lips parting more when he moved again, sliding the tip of his thick cock into your cunt a second time and earning a heavenly whimper from you.

“you like that, sweetheart?” he asked softly, smugness dripping from his voice like rancid honey. he pushed himself an inch or two deeper, and his arms, which were caging you in beneath him, were shaking slightly as he held himself back from sheathing all of himself in you at once.

your professor grabbed your wrists, holding them above your head tightly as he slowly stretched you out with his cock. his face was so close to yours that your noses were almost touching and he swallowed your noises of protest with messy kisses.

tears were streaming down your face when the tip of his cock nudged your cervix and you tried to shift beneath him to adjust to the intense pressure between your legs, but he pinned you to the bed with just one of his strong arms. his other hand rested on the outside of your thigh, roughly gripping your curves.

you were terrified, completely disgusted with your professor and desperate to escape his iron clad hold on you.

“please no!” you quietly whined, straining to break free of his grasp and failing. “it’s too big!”

coriolanus groaned when you twitched around his cock, and the pathetic way that you tried to resist him was so adorable it almost made him laugh.

he tilted his hips back and started pumping his cock into you. you could sense yourself getting more slick as his length dragged along your walls, and your legs instinctively wrapped around coriolanus’ torso, pulling him in closer to you.

your professor peppered open mouth kisses over any exposed skin he could find, making his way from sucking on your tits to sliding his lips over yours, and you didn’t want to admit to yourself that the sensation made something twist deep in the pit of your stomach.

when you moaned against his lips, his hand captured your jaw, keeping you trapped beneath him as his hips snapped against yours. his cock stretched you out again and again and coriolanus was relishing every sigh and gasp you gave him as he fucked you.

“you’re squeezing me so tight, doll.” professor snow’s voice was strained, his teeth gritted as he began thrusting into you harder. the hand at your jaw traced to your throat, and you looked up at him through your lashes in fear when he started choking you.

“professor!” you forced the word out past the crushing hand at your throat and you swore you felt his cock twitch inside you in response.

his pace was relentless. after feeling tortured by you for an entire semester, coriolanus snow was going to take what he believed he was owed, whether you liked it or not.

the fingers at your throat tightened and your eyes widened in terror when his second hand wrapped around your throat as well.

each stroke of his cock made your sensitive clit tingle with overstimulation and you couldn’t stifle your whines any longer as you were pushed over the edge.

you squeezed your eyes shut when you came, unable to look at your professor after he made you come undone against your will for the second time that night.

his grip on your throat strengthened as you tightened and spasmed around his length, and you hopelessly gasped for air that wouldn’t come. you were beginning to feel lightheaded now, the pain of his hands constricting your neck was making your vision grow fuzzy around the edges.

the blond’s hips snapped against yours furiously, punishingly; and desperately scratching at the hands at your throat only seemed to make him choke you harder.

you were petrified at the thought that if you didn’t do anything to stop him, you were about to die, but his hold on you was so tight that you couldn’t get away. he was so much bigger than you, there was no way you could overpower him.

as your vision slowly faded away, you heard professor snow groan loudly, thrusting into you a few more times before pushing himself as deep as possible and gripping your thighs tightly as he spilled his sticky seed deep into your sore, weeping cunt.

and then everything went black

#coriolanus snow #professor coriolanus snow #professor!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow #dark coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #tbosas #hunger games tbosas #yandere coriolanus snow #after hours lesson

940 notes · View notes

the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 2 years ago

Text

Random Captain John Price headcanons

sfw and nsfw

pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (cod mw)

tags/tw: domestic stuff, afab!reader, masturbation, spanking, hickeys, Price is an ass-man

a/n: inspired by a conversation I had with @melancholyy-hill and just some random thoughts, might do a second part to this, tell me if you want any other characters

John Price MASTERLIST

sfw

-Price has two phones, one for work and a private one, he doesn't like using the same one when he's deployed in countries where there's definitely a chance of it getting hijacked

-he's so tidy, like having a surroundings to calm his mind, make it easier to concentrate for him

-he's also pretty strict with his own cleanliness

-don't get me wrong, Price doesn't mind getting dirty on the field and in bed, would be weird if he did lol, but once at home or base, he takes care of himself

-we talking beard oil, grooming, trimming his nails if they got jagged during deployment and picking out the dirt from beneath them

-not that he dislikes showing you off in public, on the opposite he loves having you by his side, showing others you're his, but he gets uneasy with PDA

-that's why he's such an old-fashioned gentleman with showing you affection around people, those small gestures that make women swoon and telling you that you're found 'a good one, god you're so lucky'

-hand on the small of your back in a crowd is a must, palm resting on your knee when sitting down, you walk on the side furthest from the road, standing/walking behind you on the escalator or stars if you're wearing a skirt, kisses to your hand, temple, forehead or crown

-he always does the bed in the mornings despite you being the one who wakes up last

nsfw below the cut

-he's such a fucking ass man, like he appreciates boobs, thinks your nipples look good poking through a shirt or deliciously teasing in lingerie, but he prefers your ass

-like this man's hand is drawn to the plush flesh of your rear like magnets, just like his eyes

-back turned? eyes down, staring at ass.

-don't get him started at how he folds when watching it jiggle in doggy style or reversed cowgirl

-lowkey struggles not to blatantly stare or grab at you when you're in public and the pants/leggings you're trying on make it look too fucking good for his health

-sometimes you can just be relaxing, laying on your stomach and he comes up from behind, kneading your ass, swatting it to watch it jiggle

-other times, he pulls you on top of him, resting a book against your ass as he reads, one of his hands always groping you, you simply prop a pillow on his legs to get comfortable as you'd gotten used to this request of his

- you've stopped counting the times he'd put down his book and started parting your asscheeks as he massages your rear, in the end Price can't help how his thumb rubs the folds of your covered pussy

-if he gets to know you don't mind spanking, it's over, the man swats your ass constantly around the house,

-he thinks your gasps are adorable as you shoot him a look he ignores bc he knows you like it

-does not whine, not a particularly big moaner either, but the grunts and groans is enough to make up for it

-high-sex drive when he's around you, but during deployment he keeps it under wraps, which leads me to...

-not that big of a masturabator, but once in a while he needs to rid himself of the crawling desire in his spine, simply having to jerk one out to be able to concentrate, probs because he thought about you for too long

-BUT he actually really loves mutual masturbation, started when he walked in on you once when returning unexpectedly early from a mission

-'don't mind me, love, continue' he would husk at your wide eyes following him as walked from the bedroom doorframe to the little seating area you had in front of the bed, sometimes used when you did your makeup or Price would read, sitting down and to your surprise pulling down his pant, jerking his already half-hard cock to full length, waiting expectantly

-he puts on a show as well, using two hands, one to stroke himself in matching speed to how you finger yourself, the other cupping and fondling his balls

-would definitely not shy from throwing his head backwards when reaching his sensitive cocked with palms too rough in comparison to your soft ones

- Price is so fucking sly about where he leaves hickeys

-as previously mentioned, he doesn't really like the public attention it pulls, but a primal part of him swells when seeing the marks he's left during your intimate moments, so he definitely likes to give you little lovebites

-so you can bet your ass you could leave the house in a crop-top and they wouldn't be visible, strategically placed where no one but him and you could see them, meaning the line of your panties, on or around your breast, inner thighs, etc

-the beach might be a problem however, you would never forget the time Soap had cackled like a fucking madman when he'd spotted the marks' inconspicuous placement, leaving absolutely no room to guess what Price had done between your legs

#john price #captain john price #john price call of duty #john price x reader #john price x you #john price cod #john price x fem!reader #john price x female reader #task force 141 #price cod #cod modern warfare #soap cod #cod mw2 #john price smut #john price headcanons #cod headcanons #cod fanfic #cod mw3 #cod mwii

2K notes · View notes

inky-duchess · 3 days ago

Text

Fantasy Guide to 1920s Fashion

A post Pandemic, post war world ruled by billionaires living it up with an economic depression looming - no, not the 2020s, the 1920s. The 1920s was an era known for its bold fashion, where men and women left pre-war fashion behind in order to party it up.

Underwear

Women

Now, you may have heard that women didn't wear corsets in the 1920s. And you're partially right, this was the era Bras became popular. But women still wore corsets even if they weren't as popular as before. Corsets adapted, now instead of giving a lady a waist, it flattened her bosom because flat chests were in fashion. However, some flappers refused to wear corsets at all. Some clubs even had a corset check room, where girls could abandon their corset for their night out. Bras were more like sports bras today as in they were rectangular in shape and held everything down. Both corsets and bras were usually a flesh colour or pale fabric, and popularily made out of silk or rayon. Garter belts were worn around the waist, past the hips and hung with clips to fasten one's stockings so they wouldn't fall down. Under all of this the lady still wore her chemise which was now called a slip, along with a vest and cami knickers. Women would wear stockings, usually sheer or black while young girls would wear socks.

Men

Like women, this was an era of new underwear - the boxer shorts. These were tied by a drawstring but about 1929, elastic waists were becoming more popular. Men would wear vests as well. If your fella doesn't like boxers or a vest, he can wear a union suit which combines the two in one. Socks were also very interesting in this period because mens socks became louder and more patterned. Suspenders held up trousers, either clipped on or buttoned in place.

Day Wear

We all know the basics of what they would have worn on a night out at the club but what did the people of the 1920s actually wear on a day to day basis?

Men

Suits: Men wore 3 piece suits, so trousers, jacket and waist coat. The lapels were wide, the trousers were high rise and cuffed for the Gods. Most of the suits were wool or plaid or tweed and stripes were very popular. For days out at the seaside or in the heat, linen suits were worn sometimes with jaunty pinstripes. The jackets and trousers were looser than their predessor.

Shirts: Shirts were also often striped, the collars either white or matching the shirt. Some would have pockets. with white or matching collars. Dress shirts would have detachable collars but casual shirts usually had them attached.

Sweaters: Sweaters were mainly for sporting pursuits, like fishing or golf. Sweater Vests: Knitted vests worn over shirts.

Women

Dresses: Women were more out and about in the 1920s than they had before so they needed dresses that reflected that. Day dresses were generally looser and had a drop waist. The skirt would fall usually to just below the knees. Day to day dresses could have long sleeves but a lot of 1920s dresses were short sleeved or 3/4 length.

Blouses and Skirts: Blouses and skirts would also be worn, usually of matching fabric and loose fitting much like dresses, also. Skirts were fastened with hooks. This was also the

Coats: Ladies would wear long coats over their ensemble.

Night Out

Women

For the night out in the club or speakeasy, they wore loose dresses, either without any sleeves or cap sleeves (usually sheer). The "flapper" dress was straight up, straight down, knee length and low cut. More formal parties might see a lady drift more to the robe de style, which composed off a wide skirt but without a definitive waist. Bold patterns, beading, statement fabrics were all the rage. Headpieces and headbands were worn instead of hats.

Men

For the guys, the tuxedo was the go to club wear for the upper echelon but the lower classes would still be dapper in their best suits. Men often exchanged their day shirts for penny collar shirts which were far lighter.

Children

Girls wore dresses, usually rather loose like pinafores. The length of the hemlines showed the girls' age, the further the hem line was dropped. Patterned dresses were popular. Peter pan collars and smocking were also popular. For days at the seaside, they might wear sailor dresses often paired with straw hats.

Boys wore shirts and shorts, their shorts would develop into trousers as they grew up. Short sleeved shirts would be worn in summer. Sweater vests were popular too. Blazers were popular too and boys would wear caps when heading out.

Accessories

Spats: Spats are white covers worn over a man's dress shoes.

Hair Accessories: Hair accessories were very au corant in the '20s. Tiaras we're still worn but now across the brow. Headbands were popular, pins, feathers and even Egyptian inspiration headpieces that dripped jewels down the curve of their hair.

Hats: Every man would wear a hat outside. Every man of every rank or class. Flat caps were worn by upper and lower classes, so were fedoras, Derbies, Homburgs, Panamas, and boaters. Straw hats were worn by the seaside. Women also wore hats outside. Clouche hats were popular, made of felt and worn low across the brow. Turbans were worn during the day as night. These were decorated with pins or feathers or fabric flowers.

Shoes: For men, Oxford's were popular with the middle and upper class, sports sneakers were worn while playing sports and lace up boots were worn during winter or at labour intensive jobs. For ladies, heeled pumps were all the rage.

Tie clips: Tie clips were pins worn to keep the tie in place.

Arm rings: Arm rings where worn to hold up the rolled up sleeves of men's shirts.

Make-Up and Hair

Make up was worn in the 1920s. The go to look was a heavy smokey eye, dark lip, bold brows and blush.

Hair is probably what you think of when you think of the 1920s. This was a post war world so women wanted to throw off the shackles of what bound them before starting with their hair. The bob became fashionable. For men, hair was grown out only long enough to be parted and slicked back.

#Fantasy Guide to 1920s Fashion #1920s #The roaring 20s #Fantasy Guide #wtwcommunity #writing #writeblr #writing resources #writing reference #writing advice #writer #spilled words #writer's problems #writer's life #writers on tumblr #Writer guide #writer resources #Historical fiction #Fantasy wardrobe

90 notes · View notes

imyourbratzdoll · 2 years ago

Text

𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇…

hello! sorry for not posting anything in a while, I haven't had any motivation but this is an idea I've been thinking of for about a year now! I hope you all enjoy it.

summary - it's your first day working for the famous weatherman ari levinson, it turned out a lot better than you expected.

warning - smut, voyeurism, recording, daddy kink, choking, fingering, creampie, swearing, degrading, slut shaming, semi-public sex, powerplay.

18+ only please, the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You walk into the building, excitement building with each step. Your knee-length skirt rests tightly on your hips, cupping your arse wonderfully and your tucked-in, light purple blouse hugs your figure, barely containing your breasts from spilling out. Your heels click against the tile, and your heart squeezes inside your chest as you near the room. Your hand shook slightly as you reached for the handle, pushing the door open, your eyes widening as you took in the hustle. Everyone was moving fast, ensuring everything was getting done in time.

Your breath catches in your throat when your eyes land on the infamous weatherman. The man every woman has wet dreams about, the man they’d happily get up early for just to see him on their screen. You watched as women fluttered around him, refreshing his make-up, to make him look perfect for the TV but that was impossible, he was already perfect enough. You felt your knickers dampen, slick gathering between your thighs, cunt throbbing as your eyes connected with his. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, you swear you were on the verge of a panic attack when he smirked, his eyes moving up and down your body slowly before he licked his lips. Ari Levinson was going to be the death of you and all womankind.

“Miss?” You blink, breaking eye contact with a god and shyly look at another man trying to get your attention. “Mr Levinson is ready for you. You will be training alongside him, so he said to meet him in the weather section.” You nod, happily but shyly follow along, keeping your head down so you don’t accidentally catch his eye again. The man stops in the area and shows you where you will be standing. A table is wheeled in and you grow confused, never seeing a table in this part of the news before.

“What is the table for, if it’s not too much to ask?” You stare at it curiously, tilting your head to the side.

The man shrugs before his hand flies to the earphone connected to his ear and he speaks to the person on the other side. He looks at you. “Mr Levinson will be here in a few seconds.” That’s all he says as he turns and leaves you to stand there by yourself. You look around, standing with your hands interlocked in front of you.

You are so busy looking down at your shoes, getting lost in your own world that you don’t notice the man himself has made his way over. His navy blue suit hugged his figure perfectly, his shoes shined, and his medium-length hair was combed and pushed out of his face. “Good morning, Miss L/N” You jump, looking up with wide eyes as you notice he’s neared, standing so close that you can practically smell his cologne. “It’s a pleasure to have you here.” He reaches forward, expecting a handshake.

You stumble, quickly slipping your hand into his, feeling a shiver rush through your body as you make contact, his hand so warm and large. “G–good morning, Mr Levinson! It’s a pleasure to be working with you!” You stutter, spurting out words as you peer up at him through your lashes. Your chest heaving as his blue eyes stare down at you. “I–uh…” You look between him and the table. “May I ask what the table is for? I’ve never seen you use it in one of your reports.” You gulp, hoping that you haven’t disappointed him immediately.

Ari smirks, his hand comes around and rests on your lower back, leading you over to the table in speaking. “I have something special planned for this one. You, my little costar. Will be my special guest.” He smiles down at you, something darker behind his eyes. You didn’t know, but the moment Ari had seen you in the interview, he knew he needed to have you any way he could and he planned something so naughty, so sexual that the whole world would talk about it. “You don’t mind, do you, sweetness?”

“N–no! I don’t mind at all, Mr Levinson! I am just honoured to be working with you! You see, I am a big fan!” You blink up at him, wondering how he could be even more perfect up close. “I will do anything to make this perfect!” Ari’s grin widens, and you shift as he continues to stare. “I–is there something on my face, Mister?”

Ari shakes his head and moves away from you, he runs his hand through his hair and gets in position. “No, sweetness. Now, be a good girl and stand behind the table for me.” He gestures, watching with lustful eyes as you obey immediately. He holds back a groan as his gaze falls to your arse, loving how the skirt hugs it so perfectly. Ari blinks and his face becomes straight, his eyes move from your plump arse to the cameraman, and he gives a slight nod, showing that he is ready. Once he gets the signal, he begins. “Good morning everyone! I am your weatherman Ari Levinson and I have a special guest with me today! Please welcome, Miss Y/n L/n!”

You smile shyly, giving a small wave and you feel your body heat up as Ari takes a step closer to you, brushing up against you. “H–hi!” You clear your throat and straighten your back, wanting to be seen as a professional instead of some shy little girl.

Ari’s hand brushes against your hip, and you swallow down the whimper that threatens to escape. A giddy geek by the name of Jake Jensen stands behind the camera, anticipating what's to come. He was amazed at how Ari could work his looks and money, being able to persuade everyone in the building to leave to let him do the weather announcement without them. He trusts his good friend to stream this live video to the house filled with the other group of friends. All the men gather around the couch, waiting for his friend to bless them with a good show.

Ari presses against you, his bulge resting between your plump cheeks and you let out a small whine. “Why don’t you tell our audience what the weather will be like today, okay, sweetness?” You gulp, blinking a few times as you try and pull yourself back from the fuzziness. His hand comes up and he strokes your cheek with his knuckles, “You there, sweetness?”

You nod, sighing softly. “Y–yes, I’m here. Uh, the weather today is said to be cloudy with a–a…” You stop, eyes widening when you feel Ari begin to grind against you, his hand sliding to the front of you, slowly pulling your skirt up.

He leans forward, whispering in your ear. “Keep going, You wouldn’t want to lose your job on your first day, now would you?”

You immediately shake your head, continuing as he connects with your bare cunt, groaning when he realises you’ve been walking around wearing nothing underneath. “With a chance of rain…” You clear your throat, biting hard on your bottom lip when his finger brushes against your soft, glistening cunt. A squeal escapes you when you are suddenly bent forward, your chest flush against the cold table, nipples hardening and slick gathers between your thighs. “W–what, what are you doing, Mr Levinson?” You whimper, feeling him grind into you.

“Shh, sweetness. This is what’s so special about this one. You should’ve known that I wouldn’t let someone like you slip from my grasp. I had to have you, and so do my friends.” He leans over you, your body practically disappearing with his large build, and Ari looks directly into the camera. “Say hi to them sweetness.” His other hand slides up and tightens around your throat, squeezing when you don’t obey. “I said, say hi to them. Don’t be a disobedient slut.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, a whine passing your lips as he continues to rub your swollen clit. “H–hi, Mr Levinson’s friends!” Your mind felt cloudy, never having felt this much pleasure before. “W–what are you going to do, Mr Levinson?” Your arse pushes back against him as his fingers slip into your hole, pumping fast and hard, curling them into that sweet spot you’ve never been able to reach.

“Call me Daddy, sweetness, and don’t even worry your pretty little head about what I’m going to do.” His cock throbs in his slacks, hardening and straining against the material. Ari presses harder against you, fucking you with his fingers and groaning as you tighten around them. You whine as Ari pulls his fingers out of you, and your orgasm which had been close to the edge, fades away. “You don’t get to cum, sweetness, unless it’s around my cock. You wanna cum on Daddy’s cock?”

You nod rapidly, grinding yourself against him, wanting him buried deep inside of you. “Yes! Please, Daddy, I wanna cum on your cock!” You gasp as his hand moves from your throat, his thumb rests on your plump bottom lip and a groan slips from Ari as you immediately wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking and licking, eyes dazed as his taste fills your mouth.

Ari lifts the fingers that were inside you to his face and sticks them into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you. “Taste so good, sweetness. I can’t wait to be buried between these thighs.” He reaches down, slowly pulling out his thickened cock, smirking as you whine and wiggle in anticipation. “But, I won’t today. I’ll save that for another day. For now, sweetness. You need to be patient, I’ll fuck you in a second.” He growls, smacking your arse, and his cock twitches as he watches it jiggle.

“P–please, Daddy! I’ll be good, please fuck me!” You whimper, pushing your arse against his throbbing cock, and your skirt now rests above your hips. Ari slowly strokes his cock, tapping his leaking tip against your glistening folds, rubbing it through until his head gets caught on your entrance.

“It’s okay, sweetness. Daddy will fuck you now.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head and a strained moan escapes you when he begins to push in, stretching your walls. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, sweetness. I’m never letting you go after this, oh– You’re squeezing my cock so well.” Ari grunts, thrusting fully into your cunt, gripping your hips as he begins to fuck you hard and fast, becoming feral the more his cock drives into you. “Feel good, sweetness?”

“Uh huh, uh huh! So good, so full!” You scream, gripping the table as your body moves up and down with each thrust. “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” Your moans echo throughout the room, your walls tighten around his thick member, and for the first time in your life, your toes curl. The men watching groan, pants tightened as their cocks strain against them. Your knuckles grow white as you grip harder, feeling your walls pulsate around Ari.

“Jesus, fuck! Sweetness, if you continue to squeeze me like that, I’ll finish inside you.” Ari groans as you squeeze him tighter at his words, the thought of him pumping you full causes your whole body to go crazy. “You’re such a slut, sweetness. Your first day on the job and you are already sleeping with your boss while his friends watch. You know how much of a whore that makes you? I bet you want them to be here, passing you around and using you.” You let out a pornographic moan at the thought, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his cock begins to pound into your sweet spot.

“Daddy, I’m cumming! Please let me cum! Can I cum, please?!” You cry out, thrusting your hips back against him, wanting to feel him deeper. Your head feels fuzzy, eyes cloudy and the core inside of you tightens. “Please, please!”

Ari grips your hips tightly, pounding faster and harder, feeling his orgasm approaching rapidly. “Cum for me, sweetness. Milk my cock.” He growls in your ear as he leans forward, fucking you deeper. “C’mon be a good girl and show my friends how well you obey orders.” Your mouth falls open into a silent scream, your walls pulsate like crazy and your juices squirt out of you, coating Ari’s cock with white cream. You sigh, planting your face onto the table as he continues to fuck you. “Fuck, that was so fucking hot, sweetness!”

Ari holds you tighter, hard enough to leave bruises on your soft flesh. “I’m going to pump you full, sweetness, and then carry you home to my friends so they can all have a turn with your sweet body.” He whispers into your ear, grunting as he feels his balls tighten, cock twitching and throbbing before thick spurts of cum shoot out of his thick mushroom tip and into you, filling you to the brim, coating your walls. “Jesus, you feel so good, sweetness. Let’s see how pretty your cunt looks filled with my cum.” Ari groans and you whine as he slowly pulls his softened cock out of your used hole, and squats down. “Oh, sweetness. She’s so beautiful!”

You whimper as his finger connects with your puffy clit, rubbing it gently before he moves down and spreads your lips apart. A groan slips from his lips as he watches his cum slowly begin to leak out of your hole. You gasp as Ari slowly pushes a finger into your hole, pushing his cum back into you, deeper. “You know what the best part of this will be, sweetness?”

You hum, too fucked out to understand. “The fact that you aren’t wearing any knickers, means you’ll be walking out of here with my cum dripping down your thigh.” You let out a little whine, wiggling against him as he continues to finger his cum back into you. Ari stands, straightening his back as he tucks himself back into his slacks and ensures his suit looks perfect. “I hope you had a good show, boys. Now, sweetness. Let’s get you dressed so that I can introduce you to my friends.”

“I’m so tired…” You mumble, nuzzling your face into his neck when he stands you up and spins you around, giving everyone a view of your arse before Jake turns the camera off. Ari grins, pulling your skirt down gently to cover your gorgeous legs. One hand rests on your hip while the other comes up and fixes your shirt. You slowly pull away from his neck and blink tiredly up at him, feeling all tingly and sore between your legs, having never taken someone so large before. “So pretty.”

Ari smiles, tucking a strand of hair that’s come loose behind your ear. “Thank you, sweetness. You’re the most beautiful woman that’s walked this Earth.” His eyes fall to your plump lips, wondering what it would feel like to feel them against his. This man had taken you, yet not once had he stolen a kiss. Your eyes follow suit, flickering down to his lips, willing him to kiss you. A gasp leaves your lips when Ari leans down, holding your chin between his thumb and finger and kisses you, swallowing the soft sounds that escape you. Your hands clutch onto his suit jacket, holding him close to you as your lips move in unison, his taste is so delicious and magical.

You whimper when he pulls away, his and your eyes flutter open and you stare at each other for a short while before you stumble, your mind cloudy from the kiss and legs feel like jelly and Ari smirks. “Why don’t I carry you out, sweetness? It looks like I did a good job, just wait until you get to my house.” You whine at the thought of being filled by multiple different cocks. Ari leans slightly and grabs your thighs, he lifts you and wraps your legs around his hips. “Are you ready, sweetness?”

You nod, nuzzling into him more. “I’m ready.”

With those words, you are off. He carries you out to your new future, one where you will no longer have to work and be worshipped by many men. Fate had a funny way of getting you to meet your soulmates, and a certain cameraman by the name of Jake Jensen was known as a geek, being smart enough to know everything about tech. Except today, he had been so invested in you and your beauty that he didn’t notice he accidentally switched the live recording to broadcast to the world instead of just his buddies.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

1K notes · View notes

omgthatdress · 2 years ago

Text

To get into the first looks that were made for Barbie, we need to understand the beauty and fashion of 1959.

1950s fashion existed under that shadow of World War II. Women of the war era were hardy, hard-working, and practical. Fashion was also extremely practical, using as little rationed material as possible. The silhouette was boxy, masculine and almost military, with big broad shoulders and knee-length skirts. Rationing and austerity continued in the years immediately following the war, but then in 1947, something miraculous happened:

(The Metropolitan Museum of Art)

Christian Dior created “The New Look.” Now okay, fashion in general had been leaning into this new silhouette and Dior was far from the only designer to be working with it, but his was the most copied and most iconic.

“The New Look” was a call back to the sumptuous femininity of the mid-Victorian era, bringing back tiny waists held in place by impossibly tight corsets and big, full skirts with crinolines and hoops.

The silhouette was a return to classic femininity, but the materials garments themselves were pure modernity: a practical ensemble for a wealthy woman-on-the-go who was lunching with her friends in Paris.

Looking back at Barbie’s 1959 looks, Christian Dior’s fingerprints are all over them, but I see plenty of other designers in the mix, as well. It’s actually very easy to find near-matches of almost all of Barbie’s 1959 looks with a cover of Vogue from the 1950s. Barbie from the get-go was an idealized woman who existed in a world that was separate from the middle-class American suburbs that the little girls who played with her lived in.

Looking at classic first-run Barbie, there’s honestly not a whole lot to say about the bathing suit look. I mean, yeah, that’s what fashionable women wore to the beach in the 1950s. Her buxom curvy body fit the idealized standards epitomized by Marilyn Monroe.

Her face has the heavy makeup that was worn by French fashion models of the time.

Arched, heavily-styled brows, eyeshadow, slightly winged eyeliner, mascara, and of course perfect red lips with matching mani and pedi. One of my pet peeves about vintage style is when people wear winged eyeliner as “50s housewife glam.” NO. Your average middle class American Mrs. Homemaker was not wearing that kind of makeup. Winged eyeliner in the 50s only had a small wing that accentuated the eyelashes, and was generally only worn by the high-fashion crowd. Maybe on a special extra glamorous date with Mr. Husband, but not to a church potluck. Anyway, end of rant, but you see that’s what Barbie is trying to emulate.

Her hair, however is different: the poodle hairstyle was one favored by teenage girls. Seen here on the squeaky-clean America’s sweetheart, Debbie Reynolds:

The playful, youthful hair pulls her back and keeps her from being *too* grown-up. It’s the first step in the balancing act that Barbie has always pulled off with aplomb: to represent adulthood without being too far out of reach of children’s imaginations.

#Barbie #1950s

2K notes · View notes

sashiavi · 7 months ago

Text

✧˚·.SashiAvi's Kinktober Day Four.·˚✧

#4|Spanking|#4

Kent x Reader - Word Count - 3.8k

Minor Warnings for : daddy kink & slight ddlg petnames/references | misogyny | Kent being a dick really-

•··········•·············°·············•☆•·············°·············•··········•

Sneaking around behind the crooked spine of a long-term marriage was something truly exhilarating.

At least for Kent.

It was only a matter of time. A battle-broken man who surely wasn’t getting any older, used to the thrills and dangers that came with combat, becoming incredibly ansty with the idea of just.. Sitting at home.

Home had expectations, roles to fill. Like playing ‘Dad’ every night while he sits at the head of the table during dinner time, watching over the spread of food, grumbling a rough mumble for his son to pass over the peas. Or keeping cool and calm, be a mentor for his youngest, be expected to cool it despite the whirlwind of atrocities swirling around like a typhoon in the forefront of his mind. Having to be that emotional rock for his wife, put away his own worries to listen to bitching and moaning about Caroline’s husband or the borderline HOA president attitude Jodi had towards the women living next door.

You had no expectations. Well, not the ones he was avoiding at least. What he had with you was wrong. But Yoba be damned, did it feel right.

It was an easy dance these days, and that fact was a dangerous one. Locking eyes with a knowing look, catching your gaze from the other side of the saloon, a subtle side eye with a raised brow before you turn back to his eldest son and his friends. He can’t help his pants forming a subtle tent each time those orbs grace him from across the bar, flicking down his body, practically fucking him with your eyes while you sink a bite to your bottom lip. The hold on his pint becomes just a little tighter.

It was easy to find yourselves together.

Quickies in the bathroom. With Kent’s thick and calloused palm wrapped over your mouth, clammy and rough on your soft face, pressing fingertips squishing the soft of your cheeks. All while he fucks you over the sink, propping you up, knee bent and resting on the cool and glossy ceramic, the skirt you wore to the bar flipped up for easy access. You planned this, didn’t you? Schemed in the soft innocent light of your bedroom, picking out this outfit just to rile him up? Give him the easy ability to attack your supple cunt with his cock? Yoba, it's your fault ain’t it? He’d remind you of it too, growling low in your ear about how dirty you looked, how those slutty tits bounced in the mirror while his hips clapped on your ass.

How about a quick fuck out in the open? Bending your form over a fence for him to take you. Sure he was supposed to be your little Farm-Hand for the day, this was still ‘helping the Farmer’, right? Thick fingers rubbing mean circles into your clit, teeth threatening to sink into the soft flesh of your neck, poor overalls unbuttoned and hanging off of your hips- Shirt lifted, skin pressed into the old, splintery wood of the fence, hips fucking back on the heavy girth of that experienced cock.

You were an adventure, and you had Kent teetering on the edge of excitement. Even having the gall to take you in his own bed, folding your legs into a dirty mating press while you lay across the width. His warm palms hook under your knees, meanly pressing you into the mattress, fucking down into the gush of your cunt, watching the ring of your hole kiss and wrap around his length. The feet he once had planted to the shag rug on the floor lift, old knees sinking into the springy mattress, on the bed to mount your cunt properly. Squeak, squeak, squeak goes that wretched old thing.

He could be rough with you, take out all those frustrations on the squeezy kiss of your cunt- Not like his own wife; who lays starfish on the sheets and chastises him for being “too much”.

Fooling around with you was fun. Carefree even.

Until it wasn't.

Credit where it was due, his wife was a smart lady. Perceptive enough to have her own suspicions of.. Well, something going on. At times it was a matter of finding strands of hair that didn’t match anyone in the home, or spotting an ominous sock she knew she had never purchased. Other moments felt like a stretch - Or maybe the lady simply didn't want to admit the fact that her husband was coming home later and later into the night, having a lack of an alibi at the Saloon when she asked around. Not that he specifically told her he’d be there, but where else could he be?

Kent knew that she knew he rounded the farm often, occupying his days with farm work to keep his mind off of things, coming home with a grunt on his lips before heading straight to the shower to wash off his day - and the sticky mess left on his crotch, not that Jodi knew that part of it. The woman jumped quickly into her suspicions, silently mulling over the fact for.. Yoba, probably weeks at this point, considering the way she snaps.

And it was all because of you.

Running into her on your way out the door, nearly bumping right into the woman. Of course you squeak out an apology, skittering away with a polite “Ma’am,” and a nod to your head. Samson was not home, that ruled out the first reason you could have been there, that only left Kent. Now, Jodi has seen you hanging around the house, popping out of Sam’s room, making small talk with her and Kent in the kitchen- But a woman’s mind wanders. And this? Well, it was a breaking point.

Sparing the rougher details, Kent surely got a talking to. Voices raised, fingers pointed a few tears even, repetitive comforting, soothing, that ‘home’ act plastered on his person. He’s sorry for being out, feels bad about it even, you know how difficult it is for him right now, Love. The Farmer? You were only here to drop off his lost belongings, he swears.

Up and down, left to right he swears on Yoba.

He makes it up to her, sure. A tender night between his wife’s legs, grinding away gently, lovingly, spouting reassurances from his lying lips. Soft, as affectionate as he could muster up, saying all the things Jodi wanted to hear.

You were in for it now.

The first thwack of his palm clapping against your ass already had you wetly mewling out. Chin jerked with the sound, body tensing up at the hot sting, throat daring to warble a whimper. You cling to him, as best you could, seeking out an ounce of comfort with the tense of your body, curling into his frame. Weren't you such a needy slut, Hmm? Hanging around while his wife was home, getting a little too comfortable?

“It's almost like you wanted this.” The older man teases, watching your thighs squish and squirm, that soft plush squished together, rubbing in a nervous fidget. What a view. Stripped down to your pretty panties. Face down ass up, splayed over the expanse of his lazy man-spread of his legs while his huge palm cups a good handful of your cheeks. “S'that it? Trying to get a rise outta me, Kid?” he squeezes meanly, jiggling the fat of your ass before he lands another striking smack.

You barely respond to him, humming out a pitiful ‘nuh-uh’, hiccuped, croaking in the back of your throat before another spank comes down. Yoba, your whimpers were delicious, the sweetest cries chirped up from the depths of your lungs, wobbly and choked. Yet it's not a sound born out of protest- Whimpered and keening, strung into a high pitch, muffled behind your bitten lips. You were working yourself up more than he was.

“Got me in trouble. Ya know?” Kent grumbles, flexing his fingers into your skin, groping, spreading your legs just that little bit more, rough and calloused fingers grazing against the soft and sensitive, milky texture of your inner thighs. You sigh out, complying with his pushes, spreading your legs for him, feeling the dig of your panties in your bikini line, cupping the swell of your cunt under the tight fabric.

“Don't know the values of Marriage do ya, Hm?” He was one to talk. And yet you shake your head, agreeing with him, another soft, punctuated hum of disapproval parting between your lips as if to say it was all on you. “Clearly. Just a dumb girl, aren'tcha?” He's short with you, voice like gravel before he lands a good few spanks to your ass and thighs, thwacking the skin raw and tender.

You jolt and wiggle in his lap, squirming with each strike of his palm, chirping sweet hiccuped cries, kicking your legs in protest, and yet still trying your best to snuggle into the warmth of his body. Your breaths are huffy, tainted with a whimper every single time you exhale, lip wobbling with the ouchy sting, a murmur coming off of your lips.

“Was’ that? Speak up.” Kent gropes again, fingertips bruisy in your plush flesh, achy with his grip.

“M’ sorry..” Pitiful. Pathetic. Those are the words that flood into the man’s mind, hearing his little birdie chirp out for him like that, nearly begging for his forgiveness. But it was that easy, was it? You should know better.

“You’re sorry?” He marvels, cracking his own sarcastic huff of a laugh, kissing his teeth with a tsk and a scoff. “If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have done it, Kid.” Wouldn’t have stuck around the house all sunk down and riding on his cock that late in the afternoon. A smart girl would have known his wife would have been home, hmm? Shoulda’ been responsible for your own libido. Look at you, dragging him down with ya.

Was it true? It makes the older man feel better about it regardless. It’s easy to blame someone like you. Just too tempting, pretty face and perfect body, keeping up with his stamina both in and out of the bedroom, fucking him rough and hard, taking his cock, giving, pushing back- While you also have the capability of holding a decent conversation with him and providing company that wasn't a nagging yappy voice in his ear, whining about dishes and laundry.

“..M-Make it up to you..?” Your meek voice cuts through his thoughts, bum giving a wiggle, a sniffle on your nose. Kent gives your back a caress, down from your neck all the way to your tailbone, flat palm dragging down your naked skin, thick fingers pinching the waistband of your panties. He hooks his finger under, stretching the elastic before letting the material snap hard into your skin, pinchy and stingy.

“S’pose you can.” There's a grin in his voice, thoroughly amused at the little squeak you give him at the snap of your panties. “Mm.. How’s yer’ countin’ skills, hm?” He traces his fingers over your clothed ass, ticklishly soft, making you all the more squirmy. You respond with a soft and stuttered ‘Good..’ voice choked up behind your tongue.

“Pick a number.”

He feels you tense a little, breathing in a deep breath, filling up your lungs. Your thighs rub, squishing the fat of your pussy between them, hugged by the thin fabric of your panties. Oh, you were excited, weren't you? As if you wanted him to bend you over his knee, wanted to feel the hot sting of his hand come down on your bottom. Weren't you something? Feeding into all the sick and twisted things his heart desired, putting yourself on display for him to use just as he pleased. You were lucky he enjoyed this, loved the toying, the push and pull, feeling the fat of your ass in the palm of his hand, adored the way your cunt dripped a sweet wet patch into your panties.

“T-Ten?” You pipe up, voice tense.

“Ten’s a good number, Darlin’.” He gives you a treat, a taste of sweetness, letting you eat it out of the palm of his hand, that little name saved just for you. He feels your body melt into his lap, sinking into a puddle of giddiness at the barest form of praise. It all makes him want to strike you back into that frigid little thing.

And so he does.

His hand comes down hard, palm flat to spank a harsh hit on your ass, clapping against the fabric of your panties, softening the blow for you even that minuscule little bit. You jolt. He felt the slight pinch on his skin, a lingering ache that was surely going to build as he went on.

“One..” You chirp for him, swallowing down a sigh. Kent soothes the area, warm rubs of his hand, circular motions round and around pressing, massaging lifting-

Yoba the little jump you make when he comes back down to caress, still that soothing motion, teasing you out of your instincts to brace yourself, chuckling in his chest with a mean tilt of his head, analysing you. Thwack, Thwack- No warnings, two sharp spanks, one on each cheek in quick succession, feeling the burn truly start to bloom on his calloused hands. You squeal, bringing your legs up in a tensed attempt at a self-soothing squirmy kick, whining a long noise before you pipe up with your number, a stuttering “Two a-and.. Th-ree..~” Your back arches, voice muffling behind the comfort of your hands, hiding away your face.

Another tut falls from Kent’s lips, his amusement tickled by your reaction. He’s back with the caresses, dipping his fingers under your panties, tugging, pulling, hooking the fabric with his fingers, urging it to the middle of your cheeks, showing off your skin behind the lace. He turns your panties into a makeshift thong, hands brushing over the bare, red-raw skin of your ass, giving pinches here and rubs there. His other hand soothes between your shoulders, tickling at your hairline right on the back of your neck, the calm before the storm.

That hand presses down, a hard pin between your shoulder blades while his palm cracked down against the poor, stingy ache of your skin. Yoba, there's more. The hard sting, the pulsey mush of your cloth-covered cunt being played with, fingers sliding through the hug of your folds. You wiggle against him, both chasing the poking touch while seeking some sort of escape.

“Settle down, Kid.” His thick fingers dare to curl into the weepy spot left on your panties, surely sticky from your hot arousal. You whine again, sobby and sweet out in protest.

“M’ not- Hmmn.. Daddy.. Please.” Kent can hear the pout in your voice, the grip of your tone on your throat when you throw out that sort of name at him. Oh, so that's what you’re thinkin’ about, huh?

“Nawh.. Want to play huh?” Another little game you had, breaking up that home, family man role of his, tainting it with your sweet self, debauching the very word - Daddy - Ruining it for him in any other context, broken down and used for your filthy little self. “Behave and maybe Daddy’ll call ya’ something sweeter.” His tone is stern, falling into his role, adding to the sweet punishment he was gifting you. “Number.”

“F-ourrr~” You sigh, swallowing down a pool of saliva with a clicky gulp, tensing and jolting, wiggling against his prodding fingers. How generous, huh? Rubbing over your slutty pussy, the very thing that had him here in the first place, had you bent over his knee. Sweet, puffy pussy all supple and dangerous, always wrapping around him like a vice, a ring of cream drooling over his base that always had him going absolutely fucking crazy.

Smack, smack, smack! Harder, meaner, clapped on the soft underside of your thighs, quick in succession, catching you off guard, lifting his fingers off of your cunt. They were sticky, leaving little finger pad marks of slick, shiny on your skin, reflective in the light of the room, dotted and streaked with the force of his spanks. He’s quick to nurse his fingers against the bud of your clit, scooping his hand between your legs, roughly twiddling with the poor little thing. Yoba, he basically had a handful of you, pudgy pussy lips and swollen mound cupped nicely in his stinging palm, his pulse pumping with the pressure he pushes to reach at your bead.

You keen into him, letting your hips chase his touch with a crane, humping into the flat fingers, grinding your drooly wet patch into his open palm.

“Five-! SixSeven- Hahh!” You gasp, forcing out your words with a quick spew, immediately falling into a pitfall of moans, whimpery little noises, keening and needy- Staccato hiccups, pornographic “Ah- Ahn.. Ahh’s.” That would otherwise cause him to be irate. Oh but not you, huh? He really lets you get away with so many things.

“You’re sorry now, Darlin’?” He teases, focusing his attentions, rub, rub, rub on that sweet little bud of yours.

“I’m s..sorry-” You at least try to convince him.

“How sorry.” he pushes, rubbing harder, faster, sweeter- Chasing those noises of yours, hitting just the right places - of course he was - completely familiar with the little things that had you squirming for him.

“So so sorry~” You whine. You really do. Higher and higher in pitch, up, up into something of a cry. So breathy, so sweet.

“Mm, I’m not.. Convinced.” The hand on your clit disappears, opting to sink into the fat of the back of your thigh, spreading apart your legs just for him, urging you out of that squirmy, tight press. Nice and on display now, huh? Soaked up palm all tacky on your skin, leaving a nice, sticky mark, showing off more of that cunt with the new position of your legs. He punctuates his sentence. Mean, Mean Kent using the palm once on your back to clap a harsh slap right on the slick covered fabric of your panties, spanking your pussy.

“Daddy~!” You cry, gasping hard, a harsh jolt rupturing your body, thighs making an attempt to close and protect the swell of heat between them- But his grip is too tough.

“Aht.-” He scolds you, fingers tightening into your skin, poking your flesh, that bruising hold on you back once again. He threads his free fingers through your folds, coating them in your mess as well, that little bit of slick that dares to pool up in your panties. You whimper, folding to his affections, murmuring out a small, little ‘Eight..’

“S’not that hard is it, Baby?” There it was. That something sweeter. A name saved just for you. Kent’s lip quirks up at the way your form relaxes, melting down, under the simple utter of such a pet name. You hum a sweet and pitiful ‘Mmhm..’ A wobbly noise bubbling from your chest. “Keep bein’ a Good Girl, yeah?” Okay, now he was teasing. But it works on you nonetheless.

Crack!

Another hard spank to your ass, on the raw and bare skin, stinging even Kent’s hand, a proper pulse of his veins begging for mercy. More squeals, more whines, heck- Maybe even a few tears. Like he’d know, with your face all hidden away like that. Huffy hiccups and a string of mewls have him soothing his palm over your bottom, more of those circles, soothing on the hot burn of your skin, on fire with the stinging claps of his hand.

“N..Nine..” What a wobbly tone, murmured and twinged with the telltale signs of your arousal.

“One more, right?” Kent nearly coddles, slipping his fingers back down, this time, parting the fabric of those panties, showing off the slick of your bare cunt, crying with slick all sicky from your arousal. Look at you, getting off to being spanked raw, having him discipline you, throw you around and treat you rough. It's what he liked about you, right? You just take everything he gives you like a starving stray puppy, yearning for his twisted affection.

“One.. m-more, Daddy..” You agree with him, breathing out a sweet little ‘Oh’ sound, long-winded and dragged out of your chest while you wriggle against his fingers. Sticky, sticky, sticky. So, so sweet, coating over his digits with a thick, creamy mess, cunt clenching, clit throbbing against his fingertips. It's hard to hold back, really. Decadent little thing all drippy just for him.. Just a little press…

Yoba, you were soaked, shlucking wetly on his fingers, a noise so pornographic it has him swallowing down thick pools of saliva that dare to build under his tongue. Whimper, moan and mewl- Cry on his thick fingers while he fucks them into you, working you up and up. So squirmy, babbly and stupid, fucked dumb on his digits, mewling out sobby sounds, chanting that tainted name of his “DaddyDaddyDaddy!” while you hump your clit on his thigh in tandem with the squelch of his fingers.

He holds you open, grip tight, leaving hot indents of his nails in your skin, letting him access your pretty pussy, all puffy wrapped around him like this, he curls his fingers meanly, pressing hard into the sensitive little spot inside of your heart. His hand jackhammers in and out of your core, his warm, heavy palm slaps into your swollen folds, feeling the lovely, kissing squeeze of that tight ring of your cunt. He can’t seem to stop, finger fucking you thoroughly, eliciting the sweetest and filthiest sounds, juicy and wet on his fingers.

Kent leans in close, breath brushing your ear. “Say ‘Thank you Daddy’ for puttin’ me in my place’, Baby.” His tone growls, cutting through the never-ending cries from your throat.

“Thank.. Y-you Daddy! F’putt-in’ me in.. ahnn~. My p-place~!” He feels the squeeze, that telltale kiss of your cunt telling him you were close, so, so fucking close-

You cry, oh you do, sobby and sweet when he yanks his fingers out of you, landing several harsh spanks to your pussy, on your swollen clit, slapping hard and fast. Oh, but you still cum, don’t you? Getting off to the roughness, squirting a hot, juicy mess all over his pants. Thighs squirming, itching to close up with a snap, stuck by the hold of his hand. Pretty throat hiccuping those breathless cries while you scramble to speak, squeaking out pitiful “Ten! T-ten! tententenDaddyyyy,” Itching, stingy, mean thwacks to your puffy cunt, Kent had you making such a mess, sweet juices sputtered and splashed, coating over everything.

The sight of you made it all worth it. Made all the tricky, sticky situations he cared to avoid otherwise so, so worth it.

At least for Kent.

→ Kinktober Masterlist & Taglist ←

Thank you so much for reading! If you have any thoughts please let me know! I'd love to hear them <3 your words spur my heart on!

Property of : SashiAvi

TagList

@madsw9 @the-massive-simp @neetily @wrongdodo @modern-gremlin @blakebearsblog @skelitea @saoirse06 @yumelurve @kiwibyssongg @scrunkle-writings @regalchick33 @sydbeenis @kasasim @cheerupbabie @shinypainterturtle @callinz @jellyfishlord123 @b-lossm @tetatitanica @princesstiti14 @cherryminxx @kyrothehornypuppy @animeandobeymefandom @thecr0w @toorusproblems @joviaschaoticmind @quiruifam @sturniolopowers @hon3yydew @ghost--heart @booitzbellie @skullkroncher @maryenette @asssholeuwu @cowboyweevil @heylisin @its-starlight-farm @cheezydoritos69 @sephreads0 @hitatwiin @avocado-sloth @empressil @loverboykirstein @largarei @wiltedwilloww

213 notes · View notes