#The Goals of Offering Skirting

[sauravsharma3489]

Skirting and its various types in construction

What is Skirting?

Skirting is sometimes referred to as baseboards or skirting boards. It passes through the bottom of the interior wall. Its main purpose is to conceal the area between the wall and the floor. Its main function is to conceal the distance between the wall and the floor. Skirting boards make your space appear larger than it is because the eye glides from the floor to the wall, producing a smooth illusion of a transition between the two. This article will discuss the numerous forms of skirting used in buildings.

The Goals of Offering Skirting

To prevent damage to the wall-floor junction.

When washing and mopping the house, keep dirt stains off the walls.

Close the gap between the wall and the floor.

To improve the building's appearance.

Allow some space between the wall and the furnishings.

To prevent stains on the furniture.

To cover any exposed or open cables within.

Keep water away from the walls.

Hide unpleasant stuff on the wall.

Types of Skirting

The following are the several types of skirting used in houses and buildings:

Wooden skirting works well with granite, marble, or tile flooring. They give the structure a classy aspect. Wood skirting is also utilized on ceilings, walls, and light floors. Traditional interiors have wooden skirting. Wooden skirting comes in a wide range of colors, sizes, designs, and shapes. Wooden skirting is visually beautiful and serves aesthetic objectives.

Pencil skirting is a great option for creating a polished and finished look in a space. In addition to providing a gorgeous, polished finish, pencil skirting is used to close the expansion gap. This skirting can be used on plain, textured, or patterned walls. Pencil skirting usually has a rounded top edge.

Metal skirting is manufactured from stainless steel. This type of skirting makes the space appear brighter. One of the most significant disadvantages of stainless steel skirting is how easily it scratches. It has a sleek exterior. Installing this type of skirting needs specialized personnel and is more difficult.

Flush skirting is the best option for matching the level of the plastering surface. Any room will benefit from flush skirting. Unlike other exterior-level tiles, it does not attract dust. The main advantage of this type of skirting over others that remain stretched out of the wall is that it does not easily attract dust. These types of skirting allow the furniture to be positioned to properly compliment the wall while also freeing up floor space.

Double-layered skirting is also referred to as two-toned skirting. These skirting boards serve to make the room's design more complicated.

As the name implies, this type of skirting consists of two components that connect when fitted. The two layers of this skirting can have the same or different levels. The double-layer skirt is a truly unique concept that creates a one-of-a-kind look. Two-layer skirting installation requires experienced labor.

Skirting continues regardless of neighboring buildings, such as stairways or other structures, as the term implies. In an interior environment, it can be used to create color harmony.

Colored skirting involves painting the skirting board with a specific color. MDF (Medium Density Fiberboard) is commonly used instead of HDF (High-Density Fiberboard) since it costs less.

Bullnose skirting enhances the building's current and elegant appearance. Bullnose skirting has the advantage of requiring less maintenance and being easier to clean. It complements any interior design aesthetic. 

Plastering Plaster skirting boards are distinct from other types of skirting. As a result, the walls are improved and appear more sophisticated. The skirting breaks up the smoothness of the wall's plaster and the wooden floor.

Movable floor Skirting is a unique type of floor covering. It fits behind the cabinet and conceals a lockable locker. When closed, the drawers mimic the skirting under the cabinet and may be pushed out to access the storage area beneath them. 

MDF skirting is a product created from compressed fiber. This type of skirting comes in a wide range of colors and designs. MDF skirting comes in two types: pre-finished and pre-finished with primer. It also costs less and lasts longer.

PVC skirting is affixed to the bottom of ground-level separators. PVC skirting sheets can be painted or given a fresh color, making them highly versatile. PVC skirting boards hide the gaps between the floor and the partition. It gives your partitions a completed, beautiful appearance. Furthermore, it provides exceptional protection against dampness, scuffs, scratches, and wetness.

[bluejutdae]

Needy nerd Seungmin x you

warnings: nsfw, sort of public sex

Needy nerd Seungmin who has a crush on you but he’s sure you don’t even know he exists. Jisung drags him to a party and you’re there. He hides behind a corner to look at you dancing with your friends, he’s so focused he doesn’t notice someone slamming into him so suddenly his glasses fall.

Needy nerd Seungmin who’s surprised when, while searching for his glasses, he sees a blurry hand offering him the aforementioned glasses. The moment he puts them on his nose, your face is brought into focus. He’s so embarrassed he just stands still looking at you, mouth agape and blinking rapidly. “Have fun!” you wish him as you leave and he wants to hide.

Needy nerd Seungmin who’s sitting in class and is ready to be an asshole to whoever just sat near him because people talk during class and he hates it, but when he raises his head he sees you and he’s back to the party, motionless save for his eyes that are blinking a bit too fast. You give him a small smile and get ready to listen to your prof.

Needy nerd Seungmin who spends the whole class trying to come up with something to tell you, only to end up speechless when, the moment class is dismissed, you turn to him and ask “Seungmin, right? Do you want to study together?” He can only nod, trying not to make a fool of himself. What he doesn’t know is that you’ve been trying to get his attention for the best part of this semester.

Needy nerd Seungmin sitting near you in a corner of the library, it’s empty and quiet because it’s a Friday night and almost everyone else is partying and living their college lives. He’s only pretending to study because you are wearing a skirt and he can see the skin of your thighs. He wants to know what it’d feel like under his hands, under his mouth.

Needy nerd Seungmin who whines way too loudly when you grab his hand and put it on your thigh, looking at him under your lashes. “You can move your hand a centimeter for each page you’ll actually study.” He’s already hard in his slacks, but now that he has a goal, he's gonna be a very fast student.

Needy nerd Seungmin who whimpers when, hidden behind a bookshelf, you suck on his neck. You touching his cock through his slacks, palming him, is too much for him, and he comes pressing against your hand.

Needy nerd Seungmin who’s like a puppy the moment after he just came:, licking at your neck, nosing at your skin and begging you to let him touch you properly.

[yeollie-plz]

Light The Flame

mbf! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Part 2

Synopsis: Your mom moves the two of you back to Texas and attempts to reignite an old flame. What will happen when she learns his candle now burns for you?

Genre: fluff, angst, and smut! the trifecta!

Warnings: divorced parents, mentions of cheating, no Sarah, no outbreak, drinking, age gap (reader is said to be in college but Joel's exact age isn't stated), Tommy is a bit of a sleaze, kissing, 18+ content, p in v sex, protected sex!, lots of different sexual acts, cursing

Gif credits to owners!

Inspired by this post from @deathsholywaterr ! I hope I did your idea justice!!

Also this shit is long so buckle up!

It had been about three months since your parents' divorce was officially finalized. Your dad had moved out long ago and with no other ties keeping her in California, she decided to move back to her hometown in Texas. And although you would miss your friends and the life you had in LA, you couldn't shake the feeling that you needed (and deserved) a change. Plus, you had just found out your boyfriend was sleeping with your so called best friend. So, yeah, you wanted to get out as soon as possible.

All of your stuff was packed into a moving van and moved across the United States. You knew Texas would be super different, but a welcome change. Not to mention a chance to reinvent yourself. Taking college classes and finding your path in life, that was the goal. But, of course, a girl still needs to have a bit of fun and you and you had heard Texas nightlife was very fun!

That's how you found yourself, perched on a barstool, at a downtown Austin bar, listening to drunk people sing karaoke only hours after unpacking your clothes. You giggled lightly to yourself as a very drunk man hit a way too high note. Rotating the barstool around to place your now empty glass on the counter and just as you were about to motion the bar tender over to order another a man settled in next to you. He leaned against the counter, a bit closer to you than you would've liked.

"Hello gorgeous, how 'bout you let me get you a drink?" His words slurred together as the smell of the beer on his breath wafted towards you. Your nose scrunched in disgust.

"How about no?" Your tone was sweet, but your words were not as you batted your eyelashes at the man. He was cute, but you weren't exactly in the mood for flirting especially with someone as intoxicated as him.

"Come on, one drink. We don't even gotta have a conversation, just wanna know your name. I'm Tommy by the way." He held out his hand, with how close he was it almost hit you in the face. You recoiled.

That's when a different man appeared next to the two of you, he grabbed Tommy by the bicep and yanked his hand back. Then pulled his body a few feet away from you, finally giving you the space you had been wanting the whole time.

"I'm sorry about him, sugar. My brother is an idiot and I'm an idiot for thinking he'd be okay alone for five minutes." He turns to Tommy. "Can't even let me pee, without causing me problems, can you?"

Trying to hold back your smile, you flattened out your skirt, getting rid of the imaginary wrinkles in it. The brother's eyes lock onto your hands, seemingly just now taking you in. He gulps as his eyes glaze over, then clears his throat.

"I really am sorry about him. Here, let me buy you a drink." He says and you almost giggle at how badly the two brothers want to buy you alcohol.

"Don't worry about it! Sadly, I am used to drunk men coming up to me. I appreciate it though, but honestly I should get home." He looks lost in thought, like he's debating offering to drive you home. But just as he opens his mouth Tommy slips and falls, almost taking his brother down with him. Then, who you're assuming is the older one tries to get him back to his feet.

He continues to struggle to get Tommy up, as you stand from your seat after placing a few dollars onto the bar for tip. Tommy drops to the floor again and he sighs. Ruffling through his pocket he pulls out his card and hands it to you.

With a quick, "If you ever want that drink." Before getting Tommy to his feet and pushing him back to where they must have been sitting. You glance at the card wanting to know his name.

Joel

A few days later, you found yourself at the grocery store. You wandered aimlessly through the aisles. Half in an attempt to orientate yourself with the new areas and half just looking for what sounded good. You wanted snacks, just weren't sure what exactly. As you pushed your now pretty full cart down the wine aisle, you saw a familiar face at the other end.

You tracked him with your eyes for a second before his met yours. A smile graced his lips, eyebrows raising in surprise. Honestly you were surprised yourself. Not only did he recognize you, but he was happy to see you.

Making his way towards you, he offered you a small wave, which you returned. Your cheeks heated up slightly, you remembered he was attractive, but now in the bright florescence it showed even more. Glancing down at your outfit, you cursed yourself for not putting in just a bit more effort this morning.

"Hello again." Joel said when he finally made it over to you.

"Hello again," You mirrored his words, "Wasn't sure you would recognize me just now." You cursed yourself at the words you let slip out. Insecurities on full display.

"Of course I would recognize that beautiful face again." He says nonchalantly, like he didn't just openly call you beautiful. Like he didn't just openly flirt with you!

Cheeks flushed, you cleared your throat, "Did...uh...did you and Tommy get home alright?" He smiles like you've said something funny.

"We did, you?" Awkwardly, you shift your weight.

"I did."

He looks at you with the same smile from before, something mischievous now playing in his eyes. Cocking his head at you, he looks like he is trying to get you to say more.

"You never called, don't want that drink, sugar?" Now you are adorning a playful look back. He was scared you weren't going to call him?

"I was getting to it." You say, simply. Not wanting to come off too desperate, but also not letting his hopes get dashed.

"I was really looking forward to seeing you again." Joel takes a step closer to you.

"I might be at the bar sometime this weekend, maybe you will." At your words his eyes darken slightly. He knows you are toying with him.

Taking one more step towards you he leans down, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, "Maybe I will." And he's trying to play back. He smirks at you before offering you another wave and walking off into the depths of the store.

You are left there, blinking and blushing at his retreating figure.

That weekend, you were doing your makeup oh so precisely. The dress you had picked out hugged your figure perfectly. You wore your best heels. Your hair was meticulous. Now to just hope Joel showed.

It's not like the two of you picked a specific day or time so what if he wasn't there? You couldn't think like that, you could only hope for the best and look your best too.

As you pushed open the door of the same bar you had first met Joel at the cool air washed over you, causing you to shiver. That's when your eyes met with his. It was almost like he had his eyes trained onto the door, just waiting for you to arrive. It looked like he chuckled at your shiver as he stood and made his way over to you.

"Cold princess?" His head cocked at you in amusement.

You crossed your arms, "Actually I'm just fine." And with a nod you saunter past him and towards the bar to order a drink.

He follows closely behind him and you just know he's smirking at your response. Joel lets you attempt, and fail, to gain the bartenders attention. Before he places a hand lightly on your shoulder and nods as if to say "watch this".

Bringing his fingers to his lips he blows out a loud whistle, your eyes widen in shock. He smirks down at you before making eye contact with the bar tender who is now staring incredulously at Joel.

"Joe, think you can get my girl here a drink?" My girl? He didn't mean it like that, he couldn't have.

"Only since she's so pretty. But you? I've told you about doing that, Miller. So annoying." The bartender, Joe, mumbles the last part more to himself but both you and Joel hear it. Joel laughs behind you, you feel the rumble of his chest against your back. A shiver runs down your spine.

He leans down, talking into your ear, "Sure you aren't cold?"

You roll your eyes, he knows what he's doing. Actually, he's doing it on purpose. Letting out a scoff, you readjust your position on the stool allowing your body to graze against Joel's a bit more. His hand reaches out to grip the edge of the bar. You can feel his eyes boring into you, his knuckles are turning white. Yep, you know what you're doing as well.

And just as Joel was about to say something else to you, Joe comes back with two drinks in hand. He passes a smaller glass to Joel, with what you assume is scotch in it. Then he passes a taller glass with a mixed drink in it to you. Its the same drink you got the other night you came in and you wonder how Joe remembered. But you brush it off as good customer service and take a sip of your fruity drink.

Joel smirks down at you as you are obviously enjoying your drink ad sips his as well. The ice clinks in his glass when he sits down the half empty vessel next to you.

Once again, he speaks into your ear, "Why don't we find a booth?" Nodding in response, he holds his hand out to you to help you off of the stool. You can't help the blush that rises to your cheeks at how much of a gentleman he is.

The two of you sat and talked for hours. Subtle flirts, learning about each other, anything and everything. Although you weren't sure you were ready for a relationship after the train wreck that was your last one, you enjoyed Joel's company and it seemed like he enjoyed yours. Plus, it didn't hurt to just have a strictly physical relationship, did it?

Thats how you found yourself agreeing to another date with Joel. Thats how you found yourself moving your hips into his on the dance floor. And thats how you found yourself in his bed later that night.

Currently he was sitting on the edge of the bed, your legs straddling his as you kissed fervently. Your hips moved seemingly on their own, grinding your clothed core down onto his jean clad member. He groans into your mouth when you grind down even rougher. Big hands grip onto your hips, stilling your movements.

"Careful princess." His voice is deep as he mutters into your lips before catching them in a deep kiss again. This causes you to now let out a moan. Damnit if you weren't the most turned on you've ever been.

Joel seems to catch onto the faster movements of your hips, knowing you need more. His lips trial down your neck to the juncture of your shoulder, he bits you lightly before licking over the marks. You gasp, bucking your hips forward at the feeling. He smirks against your skin and moves his lips down your exposed chest. Silently thanking yourself for wearing such a low cut top.

Lips ghost against the skin of your breast before he pulls your shirt aside to let one boob out of its constraints. He sucks your nipple into his mouth and that's when you fully loose yourself into the pleasure. If you weren't fucked before, you sure were now. Well...you were going to be soon hopefully.

Pulling off of your bud, his breath fans over the sensitive skin causing a shiver to run down your spine. Something flashes in his eyes as a smirk graces his lips.

"Either you're always cold or I really have an effect on you." He says, craning his neck back towards your lips. You roll your eyes before he's meeting lips with your own and flipping you over to lay on the bed.

Your head lands all but gracefully on the plush surface, his lips never leaving yours. The hands that were on your hips, now explored your body leaving goosebumps in their wake. One massaged your still covered breast, the other slowly made its way up the inside of your thigh. His fingers tentatively crossed over your core and up to the buttons of your pants. Your need to have him inside of you grew stronger as you lifted your hips involuntarily, trying to urge him to take of your pants.

"So desperate." Is all Joel says before he is popping open the first button. Then the next. Then the next. Slowly he unbuttons them all and pulls your pants just as slowly down your legs. The pace makes you whimper out.

He was right, you were desperate. But with how slow he was going, who wouldn't be?

"I want to taste that pretty pussy." Joel says as he finally makes eye contact with your lacy underwear.

"Please, I just want you inside me." He gives you a look at your words, like he wasn't sure you meant it. Or he wasn't sure you were that ready?

"Next time, please Joel just fuck me already."

He seems to contemplate this for a second, but ultimately agrees, "Your wish is my command."

He slips out of his own shirt and quickly slides his jeans off too. Standing there in just his underwear, you swear you could pass out from the view alone. But your head was too cloudy to say anything. Joel seemed to see the lust in your eyes and just shook his head before grabbing a condom from the nightstand.

"Take your shirt off for me, sugar." Its a bit more of a request than a command but you follow it like it was an order. You had to admit it was a bit sexy to be told what to do.

"Good girl, let me see how wet you are." He stands over you while stroking his hardening dick through his underwear. You watch in awe before following his instructions and pull your own panties off of you.

Spreading your legs, you display your pussy to him and he groans at the sight. He strokes himself a bit faster as you slide your fingers through your soaked folds. Fingers dip into your opening and you hold back your reaction, keeping your eyes locked onto his. When your fingers are thoroughly coated in your juice, you trail them up your torso to your mouth. Sucking your fingers in and licking them clean.

Darkness fills Joel's eyes as he decides this is the last straw and he is on top of you in a instant. Pulling your fingers out of your mouth he shoves them into his own, swirling his tongue around your digits.

Quickly he pushes off of you just to take off his underwear and slip the condom onto his painfully hard penis. You gulp at the sight, mouth watering like you've been in a desert for days. You make a note that next time you must also taste him.

But, these thoughts leave your head as quickly as they came because Joel is pushing his member into you. As the tip breaches your entrance, you are gasping and gripping onto his arms for support. You feel his muscles tensing under your fingertips as he begrudgingly paces himself, trying to let you adjust

You almost giggle at the pained look on his face. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you hook your ankles together and pull him the rest of the way inside of you. He has to catch himself from falling on top of you from both a mixture of shock and the forceful nature of your movement.

Eyes meet yours with a shocked look. You just give him a smirk and a shrug in return. Regaining his composure, he pulls out of almost completely. So painfully slowly that you almost keel over. You know its your punishment for what you had done and you were feeling the full force of your actions.

But, the punishing doesn't last long as he enters you again. He thrusts out to his tip again only quicker and rougher. Continuing this action of thrusting in and out of you picking up a tempo.

After letting out another moan when he slams into you particularly hard, you crane you neck slightly to see the look on his face. He seems to have fully lost himself in the pleasure. The teasing is all lost and he is now fully focused on getting you both to your orgasms.

Joel is now fucking into you with no more reservations. He reaches a hand between the two of you, using his thumb to rub your clit. He rubs the bud in circles, trying to work you towards your peak.

"Cum for me, princess." He says with a grunt, gripping your hips roughly. His hips snap into yours roughly.

You feel the beginnings of your orgasm. The coil in your stomach begins to tighten. Your hips buck up at the feeling, needing to orgasm.

"Joel!" You gasp out as you are pushed over the edge. You clench around his cock, pussy urging him to cum as well.

Working you through your orgasm, he continues his motions on your clit. He thrusts are getting a bit out of rhythm as he is also reaching his own peak. Leaning over you he reattaches his lips to yours, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

As his hips stutter into yours he is thrusting into you one last time before spilling his load into the condom. Joel moans into your mouth as he works himself through his orgasm. Hips slow down as his orgasm ends and Joel is plopping down next to you. Wrapping you in his arms as his member is still inside of you.

All that is heard in the room is heavy breathing for a minute as Joel's sweaty body surrounds yours. You look up at him and his eyes meet yours. A smile graces his lips before he is pecking your nose and bringing you even closer to him.

Eventually, he pulls out of you and ties of the condom. Moving to toss it in the en suite before returning just to wrap you back into his warm embrace.

After the first time you and Joel hooked up, the two of you hung out at least three times a week. You would go to the bar, get a few drinks, talk a bit, laugh a bit. But you would always end up back at Joel's place. In his bed. In his arms.

Your mom was also starting to catch onto something going on with you. With you coming home late, giggling on your phone, smiling randomly at the thought of Joel. Not to mention, you were acting a bit shady. Even your friend noticed a change when she called you the other day.

But it was nothing but physical, right? Right...

Pushing open the door as silently as you could, you slightly stumbled into the dark house. Still a little tipsy as well as a bit of jelly legs from your earlier activities. Slipping off your shoes and picking them up so your heels wouldn't echo, you tried to reach the stairs to your room.

The minute your hand grabbed the banister, the lights in the living room flipped on like some movie scene. Your mom sat on the couch, arms crossed staring at you.

Jumping you tried to calmly greet her, "Hey mom."

"Don't 'hey mom' me, where have you been?" She was never this serious, so it scared you slightly.

"Out, I found a bar in town and I've been hanging out there." You didn't want to mention Joel just yet. One because how did you explain to your mom that you had a fuck buddy. And two that that fuck buddy was almost twice your age.

"By yourself?" Shit, she saw right through you.

"I mean, I talk to a few people there. Made friends with the bar tender. Well sort of, he's a bit serious and-"

She held up her hand to stop your rambling. You snapped your mouth shut.

"Who drove you home?" Joel had been driving you home from his house almost every time you guys hung out. He didn't like you taking a taxi that late.

You gulped, "I got a taxi."

"I know that's not true, Y/N. You're seeing someone. I can tell. You're different since we moved here and I think it has to do with someone." Your eyebrows furrow at her confession. Was she mad at you for staying out or mad at you for keeping secrets from her?

"Okay, maybe I am. I'm an adult!" You really weren't sure what she wanted to hear at this moment.

"You are, but I just want to make sure you are responsible."

Now you were rolling your eyes and crossing your arms back at her.

"Responsible? I can assure you I am." What did she think? That you were going around sleeping with randos and not using protection?

"Good," She stood up now and made her way over to you, "I just want to make sure you're okay, sweetie. After all that happened before..." She trailed off when she saw the hurt on your face at the mention of your ex.

She continued, "Anyways, I can see you're happy, so I won't pester you much about it anymore. But, can you at least try to come home earlier. You know I worry." She places a kiss on your forehead and moves past you up the stairs a bit, only turning back to hear your reply.

"I will, I'm sorry you were worried." You smile at her, she returns that smile.

Making her way to her room she shouts back one more thing before closing herself in her room, "And I wanna meet him sometime!"

This has you gulping, breathing cut short, body rigid. How were you going to get out of this one?

The next morning as you sluggishly made your way to the kitchen, you were greeted by your overly excited mother.

"Morning sweetie!" You almost cringe at her loud voice, feeling the effects of your late night.

"Morning." You grumble out, before making your way to the pantry to find something to eat.

She's humming to herself as she cooks some eggs on the stove. At first you don't think much of it, until you notice her almost bouncing on the balls of her feet. It makes you take a pause, she was excited about something and she definitely wanted to tell you about it.

"Why are you so happy?" You ask with a smile in your voice. Leaning against the pantry door, you make eye contact with her. She blushes, smiles, and then looks back down at her eggs.

"Remember how I told you I went out with a group of friends from high school the other night?" You nod recalling how she animatedly told you about that night and all the nostalgia.

"Well, we are all hanging out again tonight. I'm just excited." Now you nod in acknowledgement. But she did seem a bit more excited than just a hang out, eh whatever.

You went back to looking for your cereal, grabbing it and a bowl. While pouring your cereal into your bowl, your mom speaks again.

"Plus, I might have a man too." Jumping slightly at her confession, you almost spill your cereal. You weren't sure you were ready for her to date again. It seemed weird after your parents had just divorced. You'd never seen either of them with anyone else, just strange.

She continues without you saying anything, "We went to school together. Used to have a bit of crush on him back then, but never worked out. Anyway, he was with us that other night and when I tell you he aged well!"

Almost laughing at how your mom was acting like one of your friends. Cute little crush and everything! You still felt a bit weird about hearing something like this from her. First of all, ew! Second of all, was she ready?

"Oh, that's nice." Is all you can manage to say, before taking a bite of your cereal, that you had just finished pouring milk into.

"'That's nice.'" She repeats, setting her spatula down and not making eye contact with you.

"Yeah, mom, that's nice. It will be nice for you, after dad..." You trail off, not sure if this is a sore subject or not. The two of you didn't talk much about the divorce anymore. So you thought it better to tread lightly.

"I think so too." She says, a bit more happier now as she resumes her eggs.

Yep, it will be nice.

After your awkward breakfast with your mom, you returned to your room to text Joel. If your mom was going out, you might as well too, right?

A few minutes later, your phone buzzed with a message. Quickly dropping whatever you were previously doing you crashed down onto your stomach on your bed. Kicking your feet as you unlocked your phone to read the message.

Joel: Sorry, sugar but I have plans tonight. Tomorrow?

You sigh, guess everyone was busy tonight.

You: No worries! See you tomorrow!

Sighing, you flipped onto your back, staring at your ceiling trying to think of what was going to keep you occupied tonight.

You decided to take the time for a self care night. Painted your nails, did a face mask, read a bit, before ultimately ending up in the bath.

The soak felt nice and after weeks of not focusing on yourself enough, it also felt nice to just relax. Plus, if you were glowing the next time you saw Joel, he probably wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of you.

That's how you found yourself, wrapped up in your soft robe propped up at your vanity. Hair wrapped in a towel while you rubbed lotion into your legs.

Just as you were finishing up, the doorbell rang downstairs. Sighing, not really wanting an interruption, but needing to answer it nonetheless. You pushed up from your seat and made your way downstairs. Not even bothering to change out of your robe.

And you would have never expected what you were about to see on the other side of the door as you swung it open.

There stood Joel and another lady, trying to hold up your very drunk mother. Eye immediately lock onto Joel's, an apologetic look on his face as he wasn't sure what to say.

Your mother however saw you and tried to rush at you to hug you. Slurring about this and that. How much fun she had, how pretty you were, anything and everything that came to her inebriated mind.

Joel and the lady held her back, trying to keep her on her feet and off of you. After the initial shock of the moment, you finally realized they were probably trying to get you to let them inside.

"Oh! Um, come in. I'm sorry about her, uh maybe just put her on the couch?" You gesture towards the living room and move aside to let all three of them through. Joel glances back at you as you close the door, eyes also trained onto him.

They try to place your mother onto the couch as carefully as they can, but she falls to the side anyways. You are almost horrified at the situation. Joel, here. Your mom, drunk. Joel with your drunk mom.

Joel clears his throat while the lady is busying herself with your mom, "As you can see, she's a bit tipsy." He states the obvious, you bite your lip as he shuffles from foot to foot nervously.

"A bit." You conclude.

"Yeah, uh, it might have been my idea to play a drinking game. Sorry!" The lady on the couch calls over her shoulder, returning to your mom.

Your eyes never leave Joel's. As the shock subsides, you finally put some pieces together. Your mom was going to see some high school friends. Joel was one of your mom's high school friends. You were hooking up with your mom's friend. Fuck!

Joel tries to read your face, you can see how he wants to go over to you. Wants to apologize properly or explain himself. Anything to make you feel better.

"Sug-Uh, Y/N right?" He almost lets his pet name for you out. You nod, like he doesn't moan out your name nightly.

"'m Joel and that's Linda." You nod again. What then fuck is happening right now?

"Do you think we should take her upstairs?" The lady, Linda, finally turns to look at you. She scans you and you only just now realize what you are wearing. Or lack of what you are wearing. Eyes shift to Joel, who is seemingly now taking in your appearance as well. You notice his Adam's apple bob a bit as he tries to wet his now very dry mouth.

"I mean, she will probably be fine there. One night on the couch isn't so bad." You try to joke but Linda's face stays stern.

"I'll take her up, can you bring her some water?" She looks to you and you nod again, now gulping at how serious she is.

Linda grabs your mom off the couch and surprisingly easily takes your mom up the stairs.

"The door on the left." You call out, realizing you never told her. Linda grunts in acknowledgement before taking your mom into your room. The second the door closes, Joel speaks.

"Linda's a bit serious."

"A bit serious? I was gonna say scary." He laughs at your statement.

"She is, isn't she?" He laughs again, before stopping as his eyes latch onto yours.

"Baby..." He trails off, not sure what to say.

"So, you're friends with my mom?" He nods. You open your mouth once, twice, before closing it again. Also not sure what to say.

"Obviously, I didn't know until she gave me the address tonight. Then I didn't know what I was going to say to you. I couldn't act like I knew you and-" He stops his rambling as you step towards him, placing a hand on his chest.

"It's okay, I know you didn't know. I know you wouldn't keep something like that from me." His hand engulfs yours, pulling it up to his mouth to peck your palm.

"You're so good to me." Taking a step closer, his forehead rests on yours.

You giggle, "You're so good to me."

The two of you sit there in silence for a second before he speaks again.

"You look so pretty right now, angel. I wish I could kiss you."

"You could." You confirm, bringing your face closer to his.

And right as he is about to attach his lips to yours, something crashes up stairs. you jump back from Joel at the sound before the two of you rush upstairs. Just to find Linda and your mom on the floor, laughing. You sigh in relief before noticing the pile of book knocked off the bookshelf.

"What happened?" You ask.

"She fell while trying to put her pants on. Knocked over all these books and me." Linda replies in between laughs. Only a bit shocked by her switch in emotions, you sign again.

"It's okay, you guys have done enough. I'll put her to bed now and clean that up in the morning. Thank you for everything." Linda nods, stands, and dusts herself off. Before looking to Joel who just gestures for her to go first.

Joel glances back at you once last time. Almost taking a step towards you, before shaking his head and following behind Linda.

The front door closes down stairs and your attention returns to your mom who is still sitting on the floor. Her head is slumped over and her breathing is even, like she has fallen asleep just like that.

"Come on, mom, let's get you to bed." You reach under her arms to lift her up. She doesn't help but falls into another giggling fit. Trying so hard not to laugh to you push her down under her seats, tucking her in just like she used to when you were little.

"That was him." She says all of a sudden.

"That was who?" You reply, not fully listening as you pick up one of the books.

"The guy I was telling you about. The one that grew up well. He's hot right?" You stop mid movement of picking up another book. What?

But before you can even say anything else soft snores come from the bed. You stand up and place the book back onto their shelf. Leaving the room silently.

You lean against the door once you shut it, stomach tying into knots.

The guy your mom is interested in is the guy that you are currently seeing. What the fuck?

The next morning it was your mom's turn to come into the kitchen groaning. Holding her head she sits at one of the barstools at the island.

"Morning sunshine." You greet her with a laugh while sipping your coffee.

She just grunts in response, you laugh again. Turning to make her her own mug of coffee, knowing that's exactly what she wants right now.

You slide it over to her, her eyes widen for only a second before lifting the mug to her lips. As soon as the liquid touches her tongue she is smiling into the brim of it.

"Thank you." She says as she places it back onto the counter. You raise your own mug to her in a "you're welcome" gesture. She sighs.

"Did I embarrass myself last night?" Groaning again while rubbing her temples.

You laugh, "Only a little." Holding up a pinching gesture with the hand not holding your coffee.

You take a sip while your mom speaks again, "Oh! But you met Joel right? What do you think?" And that's when you choke. You were kind of hoping she didn't bring up Joel.

"That bad?" Your mom chuckles while you try to recover from your coughing fit.

"Uh...um he didn't seem too bad." You finally say as you recover just enough to let the words out.

Your mom only nods, taking your short answer as enough.

What were you going to do?

You had sent a text earlier in the day to confirm with Joel that the two of you were still on for tonight. Although, you were a bit confused by the whole situation currently. You knew how you felt about Joel and honestly you were tired of hiding it from not only yourself but also him.

Now you could only hope he felt the same. That hope, however, came fully to fruition when the you showed up to Joe's bar and Joel was standing there waiting for you, bouquet in hand. You almost teared up at the gesture.

When you crossed the bar to him, he wrapped an arm around your waist pulling your body into his. He placed a kiss on the top of your head before handing the flowers to you.

"Sorry again about last night." You hit his chest at his statement. He backs up in shock, mouth wide open. His dramatics make you laugh.

"Stop saying sorry, it isn't your fault. My mom should be apologizing to you!"

"Still I should've at least warned you we were coming." Dramatics dropped as he looks down at his feet.

"While you were driving? Joel Miller!" Now you are the one being overdramatic and it makes him laugh like it had made you laugh.

"Fine, but I still feel bad."

You sigh, "Fine, but you're not sitting in this corner all night! Dance with me!" You grab his hand and pull him onto the dance floor.

When you start dancing he is only swaying his hips a bit, not fully into it. But you aren't having any of that, you grab his arms and slide his hands down your sides. Flipping around so your ass makes contact with his crotch. This seems to make him react as he grabs your hips in almost a warning.

Although, of course, this only eggs you on to continue your teasing. Grinding your hips back into his like that very first night the two of you hooked up. You spin back around, hands moving up his stomach and chest finally resting latched behind his neck. Your head is tossed back as you continue to move your hips dangerously close to his own. Neck is on full display for Joel and he takes this as an opportunity to crane down and place a soft kiss there.

His head now rests on your shoulder using his hands to help move your hips in time with his. You smile, he must be feeling a bit better now. So when he raises his head out of the crook of your neck you raise your own to meet eyes.

But you don't see lust there, you see something else. Love? It makes you gulp, goosebumps raising on your skin as he leans down to bring his lips to yours.

And when he pulls away, "I want you." He says, but it isn't in the lustful way he usually says it. Not sure how to reply, you smirk teasingly.

"Then take me."

"Not like that, baby. I-I want you. I-" Words seem to stop at the top of his throat, fearing that they will topple over.

Still unsure, you say the first thing that comes to mind, "You have me. I've been yours for a while, Joel." The look in his eyes sparks almost unnoticeably.

"You're mine?" You nod. "Promise?" Another nod.

"Come home with me?" Instead of answering, you attach your lips to him.

Waking up in Joel's arms felt so much different than all the times you had been in his bed and in his arms before. Something about the intimacy of your conversation from the night before and the intimacy of being in his bed now. You were just so serene. It felt right. There was no other way to describe it.

Obviously, after leaving Joe's you ended up at Joel's place once again. Although this time you had told your mom so she wouldn't worry and you had also, at Joel's request, told her that you weren't going to come home at all tonight.

Of course, like all the nights before Joel and you had ended up fucking, but last night felt different. It was slower, it was intimate, it was like he was making love to you. If you had asked Joel he would tell you that's exactly what he was doing.

Glancing over at Joel, you see that he is still asleep. You try to carefully let yourself out of grip to get out of bed but his strong arms keep you there.

As you try again, he just grips you tighter letting out a groan. He opens his eyes slowly.

"Don't leave me." He says while still waking up.

"I'm not leaving, Joel, I-" He cuts you off by pulling you roughly into his side.

"Joel-" you warn with a squeak as he pushes on your stomach with the heel of hi hand. "-I need to pee."

He still doesn't let you up. Just nuzzles his face into your hair. His breath tickles your neck.

"If you don't let me go, I'll end up peeing in your bed." You try to warn him again and finally he lets you go with a sigh.

But before you can make it fully into the bathroom he is calling out behind you.

"You're mine?" Your eyes roll.

"Yes."

"Promise?"

"Joel." Another warning tone.

"Promise." This time it wasn't a question.

"I promise. Now let me go pee!"

After peeing, you returned to Joel who was still sprawled out in bed. He brought you back into his arms as quickly as he could. The two of you stayed like that for a while, just bathing it each other's warmth.

Until Joel's hands started wandering. First it started with rubbing soothing circles onto your back. Then the circles moved to your thighs. The circles becoming less soothing and more whimper inducing. Then they moved to just above the waistband of your pants (boxers you had borrowed from Joel). Only for them to dip past that waistband just a second later. Now teasing your already dripping slit.

Whimpering out, Joel caught your sound with his lips. Letting his tongue taste yours. The kiss was slow, passionate. No matter how much he wanted you, he was taking it slow.

His fingers continued teasing your pussy lips, collecting your juices before slipping just the tip of fingers past your folds. Gasping, you bit down on his lip, causing him to groan into your mouth. The shock made him loose himself for a second but he recovered quickly and continued teasing you.

He did this for a minute or two never letting his lips leave yours. Bringing his fingers to your clit he rubbed the bud a few times before slipping his hand out of pants. You whined at the loss.

"I need to be inside of you. Can't wait any longer." He says before pushing you to turn around so he was now behind you.

You heard Joel rustling through his nightstand for a second before tearing open a package. Shifting away from your warmth for only a second to slide his underwear down and slip the condom on.

As quickly as he can he is returning to touching you, hand moving up under your shirt. Lips are on your neck nipping and sucking lightly at the sensitive skin.

The hand in your shirt moves up to tease your boob, massaging both of them. The other hand is moving back to the waistband of your pants, slipping them down your legs as much as he can in the position that you are in. You help him by lifting your hips a bit.

Joel slides his dick into you from behind, it being easy from till being a bit stretched out from last night. Not to mention all the teasing and the amount of wetness that is almost dripping down your thighs at this point.

You don't even need to adjust to the stretch, "Please Joel." You breath out. He continues fucking into behind and kissing at your neck.

Hand is still in your shirt, just holding onto your tit. The other is holding your hip in place, like he thinks you'll slip away from him. He is fully seated inside of you when he slowly pulls out of you to hi tip, before fucking back into all the way to the hilt.

He continues his slow and steady pace, just taking his time with your body. Needing to feel all of you. Needing you.

Thrusting his dick in and out of you. Working both of you towards your release. Morning sex with Joel was definitely different than any of the sex you've ever had with him before but you were loving it. You loved how he was taking his time. He didn't want either of you to get overstimulated.

The hand that was on your hip wrapped around to tease your clit. The strokes were as slow as his thrusts. But he strokes once particularly roughly and you are moaning, turning your head to try and meet lips with Joel. He obliges and connects your lips.

This is what sends you hurtling towards your end. The softness of the kiss, the circles on your clit, and the slow yet perfect thrusts. It crashes over you unexpectedly and has you moaning out loudly disconnecting your lips just so you can catch your breath.

And the feeling of your walls clenching onto his member has him closer to his peak quickly as well. He's usually very sensitive in the morning so he isn't very surprised. So when you seemed to have caught your breath and you no longer are jerking with your orgasm, Joel is placing his lips back on yours. Kissing you deeply as he swallows your breathy moans from the overstimulation.

This causes him to reach his peak, cumming into the condom with a throaty moan. Thrusting roughly into you a few times to work himself through his orgasm. When he is finished he is pulling out of you and using your shoulder to turn you back to face him.

He pulls your head into his chest. Breathing is still a bit labored as the two of you just feel the other person. Appreciating the comfort. Breathing in each other's scents, content.

Later that day after a shower, with Joel, he drove you back to your house to drop you off. You didn't have any clothes with you after all, so you at least had to change and because you didn't exactly want to leave Joel yet, when you didn't see your mom's car in the driveway you convinced Joel to come up with you.

He didn't protest much after you promised him your mom would not be returning any time soon. So he followed you through the house and into your room. You ushered him in and watched as he took it all in. Shutting the door behind you two, you made your way across the room to Joel.

Wrapping your arms around him from behind as he looked at some pictures on your desk. You hadn't realized until now but Joel had never seen the way you lived and it was comforting to finally have him in your space.

"That's when I was seven." You said as he picked up a picture of you with a soccer ball in hand, blue jersey hanging on your little torso. "I begged my dad to sign me up for soccer and only did it for about three weeks before I decided I hated it." You laugh at the memory.

He laughs too and places it down, now picking up a picture of you and your friend from prom.

"That feels like ages ago." You muse, "There used to be another girl in this picture but she uh she fucked my boyfriend so I cut her out." You nod into his back before disconnecting your arms and moving across the room to sit on your bed. Playing with your hands, he places the photo down and moves to sit with you.

"I'd never do that to you." He says after a beat of silence.

"Fuck my boyfriend? I hope not." You try to joke but it doesn't fully reach your voice.

Joel grabs your hands, "Cheat on you." He says the thing you weren't sure you wanted to hear. You open your mouth but aren't sure what to say.

So he speaks instead, "You deserve the world and I want you to know that I'm prepared to give it to you." You smile, finally bringing your eyes to his.

"You sound so old!" You jest as you hit his chest. He grabs your wrist using it pull you forward into him. You fall into his chest, Joel uses that as an opportunity to stable you by a hand on your hip.

"If I really was that old, I don't think I could fuck you the way I do." He tone is laced with seduction as he brings his lips to ghost yours. Breath fans over your face, causing you to shiver. He smirks almost bringing up the inside joke of you being cold all the time. But throws this away to instead attach his lips to yours.

The kiss is fiery, not like the ones from this morning that were filled with passion, this one was like he needed to prove something. Prove he would always be yours and you would always be his.

His lips and his hands have you so much in a trance that neither of you hear a car pulling into the driveway. Or the front door opening. Or your mom calling out your name. Or climbing up the stairs. Or opening your door.

But you do hear the gasp and the sound of bags dropping to the floor as your mom sees the two of you. Pulling away quickly both you and Joel jump away from each other like a fire was just lit between you. Your head snaps to look at your mom and then back to Joel and notice she is doing the same thing with the both of you.

"Mom, I-" You try to explain but loose your words and good thing too because they would be falling on deaf ears anyways. With her blinking twice and rushing out of the room, back down the stairs, out of the house, and driving away.

You look back to Joel who has a mortified look on his face, then back to the doorway your mom was just in.

"Shit."

Part 2 !!!!!!!

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

PUT IT ON THE PLASTIC. 18+

tangerine x fem!reader — smut

summary. “the more you spend, the sweeter I fuck you tonight” prompt. requested here by @burneraccountbutiactivelyuseit tangerine wants to buy something for you, but you won’t let him. his offer changes your mind

word count. 1234

warnings. 18+ only! cunnilingus, pinv sex. tan being softly dominant and assertive (aka his best traits) minors dni

made the gif myself, that’s so embarrassing. that’s also why it looks like shit

Spending money isn’t something that comes naturally to you, especially when that said money is coming from the pocket of another. 

Earlier today, you and Tangerine began the quest of shopping – his one goal in mind to treat you. But as the hours pass and the list of available stores grows shorter, your hands are yet to be filled with luxury bags. 

You just didn’t want to spend his money, despite his persistent offerings.

“What about this one?” Tangerine asks from your right, nodding to the fancy shop up ahead. He was clearly exhausted from battling you and being on his feet all day, but he never let that show. He was too busy trying to get you to buy something. “Looks nice in there, no?”

“I don’t know,” you turn to look at him, face contorting in uncertainty. “I’m fine just getting a pretzel and going home.”

He shakes his head sternly. “That ain’t happening,” his palm slips from the small of your back and into your hand, his slight grip steering you into the luxury, high end store. “Let’s just have a little browse around, hm?”

This particular department store was far beyond the others you had stepped inside today – four internal floors filled with bedding, clothes, makeup, you name it. It had everything and it made those other rich, fancy shops look like shit.

“Right, where we going?” he asks, leading you towards the escalator – stepping on first, hand held tight onto yours as he helps you on. He steps down one so he’s behind to your side, his knee bending by yours like he was enclosing you – keeping you safe. “What do you fancy?

That same question he’s asked copious times today – what did you want?

You take a moment, trying to think of the cheapest thing you could buy to get him off your back. The thought of kitchen utensils coming to mind.

“We need a new spatula,” you suggest, looking over your shoulder to him.

“That’s need. Not want. That’s not the same,” he shakes his head at you. “What about some new shoes? A bag?”

“I don’t know what I want.”

“That’s a lie.”

You reach the next floor, and each of you step off – this floor just as extravagant as the one below, maybe even more so. 

He had been hounding you all day to buy something, that by now you were so fed up with shopping. And so, to put yourselves out of the inevitable misery, you guide him over to the rails of clothing and pick out the first thing you see. 

“I want this,” you lie, holding up a skirt that’s far from what you’d usually wear.

His head cocks to the side, eyes narrowing at you for a brief moment before they follow his hands – reaching into his pocket. He pulls out his wallet and steps closer to you, closing the distance. 

“Got a proposition,” he starts, and places his bank card below your chin – hooking it under to lift your face, making you look at him. “The more you spend,” he pauses, leaning in closer to speak against your lips. “The sweeter I fuck you when we get back.”

Your breath hitches at the thought, a small almost gasp muffling into his mouth.

“That’s right,” he smiles ever so faintly against you. He pulls back and picks up your hand, placing his card in the centre of it – wrapping your fingers over the piece of plastic. “What’s mine is yours. Now, knock yourself out, love.”

Before long, you had made up for the whole day of missed purchases, maxing out the transaction limit at the checkout. Filling your hands with bags like he so desperately wanted at the beginning – though, you weren’t allowed to carry them. That was his job.

You held up your end of the deal, now it was his turn.

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Tangerine had you flat on the bed, your knees spread wide to accustom his broad shoulders. His face slotted between the inners of your thighs, tongue lapping leisurely at your cunt as if to prep you further for what's to come. 

He had been at it a while, making out with your pussy, kissing and loving on you in the way you deserved after your long, laborious day of shopping. 

The utter messy, wet state he had made of you purely from his mouth was all evidence of his care. All proof of his attentive nature.

He pulls away from between your thighs, his moustache and chin slick with everything he’s coaxed from you within your multiple orgasms. Placing a final kiss to your clit, he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and sits – adjusting on his knees between your legs.

Thick, large hand reaches into his boxers – his palm wrapping tight around his cock as he pulls it out over the waistband. He gives himself a few precautionary pumps, being careful not to blow his load there and then. Lining his dick with you, he swirls his head around your entrance, circling over your already sensitive cunt. 

He rests the heavy weight of his cock against you as he moves position, leaning over your bare body below, hovering over you in the way you always liked.

“Picked out a lot today,” he whispers to your ear, speaking low and hushed as he guides himself into you – using the tip as a plug almost, letting you accommodate him. “Weren’t so hard now, was it?” he teases, pressing a kiss to the patch of skin below the lobe.

“Thank you,” you murmur, voice wavering –nearing on straining– when he sinks further into you, the feel of him literally knocking the air from your lungs. You loosely wrap your legs around his lower back, ankles hooking at his sides as you tuck your face into the crook of his neck. “For today,” you add, words muffling into his skin. “I really appreciate it.”

He knew you were. You were always so grateful for anything he did for you. Maybe that’s why he loved doing things for you, loved taking care of you – it was always clear of how much it meant. 

“I know,” he hums, littering the length of your neck in soft, fluttery kisses. “You deserve it.”

And as those gentle, loving words leave his lips, he forcefully sinks the rest of himself into you – snatching a deep, breathy moan from the pits of your stomach. Like the act was so juxtaposing to his prior tender confession, that it almost undid his kind words.

He parts from the warmth of your neck, in which you do the same – mirroring his movements. Straightening his neck, he looks down at you below, watching those pretty, tiny microexpressions form across your features: knitted brows, soft eyes, parted lips. All of it ever so truly beautiful.

He bucks his hips experimentally, fucking into you for a brief, rough stroke, and when he sees that face, your face – he knew that’s what you wanted. But he doesn’t give it to you like that just yet, he’d never last. 

So for now, he keeps that same steady pace, cock slowly sliding in and out of you, his face mere inches from yours as if to close any distance. Swallowing each other’s moans and sounds, his hand clasped tightly to the side of your face – keeping you there to never part from your gaze.

so not okay I want him so bad

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter One. Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Thèos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: Sub/Dom, Toxic Behaviour, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Blackmail, Praise Kink, Begging, DubCon, CNC.

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

You were a good girl, and an exemplary student. One who consistently demonstrated exceptional discipline and commitment. Your dedication to academics was unwavering, as you diligently followed the rules and guidelines, never straying from the prescribed path.

Your singular focus was on nurturing your intellectual curiosity, and you showed no interest in indulging in activities that might distract you from your educational pursuits. Your life was calm, quiet, and focused.

Until, one day everything fucking changed.

———

In the enchanted realm of Hogwarts, there resided a studious and exceptionally bright seventh-year Ravenclaw witch, known for her unwavering dedication to academics and her steadfast commitment to the noble pursuit of knowledge. This young sorceress, a paragon of virtue, refrained from the temptations that often lured her peers, steering clear of parties, alcohol, and the haze of smoke that veiled the Ravenclaw common room during clandestine gatherings.

Her life was meticulously ordered, her goals sharply defined. But the universe had a curious sense of humor, for it threw her into an unexpected affiliation with the most notorious bad boy in Slytherin:

Mattheo fucking Riddle.

He, the embodiment of rebellion, was a stark contrast to her pristine existence. Mattheo's reputation preceded him: a Slytherin troublemaker, one who was almost always found in the midst of chaos. His devil-may-care attitude was a challenge to authority, and there was not one singular individual that could tie him down.

Yet, fate had woven their paths together, forcing the astute young witch to confront the complexity of human nature, unraveling layers of his defiance while simultaneously testing the boundaries of her own steadfast resolve.

And that witch; that poor fucking witch--well, that was you.

———

"Please, Riddle...if you'd take a seat," you ran your tongue along the backside of your teeth, straightening your posture in your chair as you tried to contain your irritation. "...I must express my desire to commence our endeavors prior to the conclusion of the academic term."

"Eager, are we?" Mattheo sneered, sauntering toward the desk painfully fucking slow. "You know, Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither is mastery. I'll sit when I'm fuckin' ready to sit."

His voice was low, the sadistic drawl of his tone making your bones ignite with fury. Gods, he certainly fucking loved testing you.

"And I won't tell you again...call me Mattheo."

You inhaled a sharp breath, flattening out your blue uniform skirt against your thighs as you bit your tongue hard enough to make it bleed.

"Rome may not have been built in a day, but it certainly collapsed in one--now, I won't ask again, Riddle..." you looked up, meeting his dark obsidian eyes, fighting back a sadistic smirk of your own as he narrowed his gaze in challenge. "Take. A. Seat."

The words were clipped behind your teeth with an obvious urgency that shut Mattheo up for a few seconds, the gears turning inside his head as he contemplated how he could one up your little jab--a constant occurrence that seemed to happen every single fucking time you met with him.

At this point, your tutor sessions were an easy seventy percent bickering with the remaining thirty being a half-assed session of one-sided discussion where he mostly offers you fleeting blank stares while zoning you out. You hated that you'd agreed to this, but you knew you needed to get on (and remain on) Professor Dumbledores good side if you wanted a career here at the school after you graduated--and you were so fucking hungry for it you'd do almost anything to solidify your fate.

Even if it meant surrendering your sanity to the hands of Mattheo fucking Riddle.

You chose not to let him, of all individuals, tarnish your path. Your reputation, fragile as it may have been, resembled a tinderbox, and he was the combustible element, ready to erupt at any given moment. This resolve became your steadfast anchor, shaping the direction of your choices.

"You know," Mattheo said as he finally slumped down into the chair across from you, his tousled brown hair falling effortlessly over his forehead. "I was under the impression that the brilliant Ravenclaws such as yourself valued intellect over impulsive haste..." he tilted his head, his gaze scanning every movement of your body as you stared at him. "It was my understanding that impatience was more of a Gryffindor trait."

Your fingers trembled with palpable irritation, yet you understood the imperative need to suppress it. You couldn't afford to reveal just how deeply he affected you, realizing that acknowledging it would subject you to endless taunts and jibes, a fate you were determined to avoid at any cost. This restraint became your shield in moments such as these.

"You wish to discuss house values, Riddle?" You tilted your head, straightening out your posture once again. "Because I, in complete honesty, was under the impression that Slytherins were known for their resourcefulness...your reluctance to cooperate suggests a rather curious lack of ambition."

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, his expression growing icier. "Resourcefulness doesn't mean blindly following every stupid instruction thrown at you, and ambition means choosing the battles worth fighting, not wasting time on pathetic, trivial matters."

With a subtle smirk, he leaned back, hooking his arm on the back of his chair as he eyed your discomfort--seemingly undisturbed by your challenge--and you chewed on the inside of your cheek, somehow knowing he wasn't finished.

And of course, he wasn't. "If you really believe this seemingly-stubborn insistence on when or if I sit reflects a lack of ambition, you clearly misunderstand the depths of Slytherin cunning. We pick our battles wisely, and right now, this isn't one of them."

Your blood pressure surged, the crimson currents in your veins reaching their boiling point. Months of enduring relentless bickering and one-upmanship had pushed you to the edge--this man may be an utter degenerate but he certainly knows how to use his mouth when it matters. You could no longer bear the weight of this incessant game, and in a fleeting moment of frustration, you finally succumbed to the pressure.

You knew this was your breaking point.

"I'm just trying to fucking help you." You said, before you even realized you had. You hardly ever cussed, never out loud--that is. "If you don't want to be here, then get out. I promise you, you won't be hurting my feelings if you do."

He huffed, leaning forward and crossing his hands together on top of the desk as he wet his stupidly plush lips, a devilish grin swallowing his cheeks while he revelled in the fact he'd so clearly fucking won. Yet again.

"No," he said. "I don't think I will."

You clucked your tongue, irritated even further at his response, gaze narrowing ever-so-slightly before you rolled your eyes--brushing off his suffocating arrogance and pulling your textbook out of your bag, slamming it down on top of the desk between your bodies.

"The Grimoire of Arcane Relics?" Mattheo read the title out loud, voice laced with a confused, almost offended undertone. "We don't cover this until the middle of second term..."

You cocked an eyebrow. "And?"

"Seems a bit...hasty, to shove this down my throat so early on," his voice carried a sadistic drawl that nearly made you leap across the desk and choke him unconscious. This man knew how to fucking test you. "Would it not be far more beneficial to proceed in the order the books are taught?"

You drew in another swift breath, the fabric of your navy robes clinging to your form, trembling fingers smoothing out any wrinkles on your button-up blouse as you adjusted it.

"I was unaware..." you said, not bothering to look up. "...that the individual I'd be tutoring this term was in fact a professor, and not a seventh year student..." you glimpsed him now, offering him merely but a slight tilt of your head as you watched his jaw tense. "...I must have been ill-informed, do pardon my ignorance."

"A moment of self-awareness? What a fucking breakthrough for you, Raven...pity it took you so long." He was clasping his hands together on top of the desk with enough force to involuntarily crack his knuckles. "Maybe there's hope for you yet, though I wouldn't hold my fucking breath."

"Please don't," you said, teeth gritting. "We wouldn't want to deprive your already-oxygen-starved brain of any more, now would we? It needs all the help it can get."

Mattheo's gaze sharpened, his lips curving into a teasing smirk, highlighting the scars that adorned them. The effect he had on you was undeniable, a sensation you longed to dismiss more than anything. However, with every passing moment in his presence, resisting the pull of attraction became an increasingly futile endeavour--yes, he was suffocatingly arrogant, but Gods, he was fucking attractive.

And he knew it.

"Quite the fucking mouth on you, I'll admit..." he dropped his voice to a low whisper, so deep it practically rattled your bones as it vibrated through you. "Never met a Ravenclaw with such an attitude problem...maybe I could tutor you on how to fix that issue, once we're done here, of course."

Your stomach twisted, heat spreading through your veins like wildfire. Curse him and his painstakingly arrogant charm. Curse him to bloody hell.

"It'd be a cold day in hell before I take any sort of guidance from you, Riddle..." you whispered, your voice accidentally reverberating as a seductive pitch. "And even then, I'd probably still refrain."

"You don't know when to shut the fuck up, do you?..." his eyes darkened, an evil mischief crawling its way through his irises. "What would daddy Dumbledore think about the way you're speaking to me, huh?"

Your heart stalled. "I-"

Your words faltered as Mattheo stood up, moving leisurely like a predatory creature circling its prey, until he was right beside you. His eyes, sharp as daggers, bored into your skull, and he loomed over you, a sadistic smirk twisting his lips into a cruel curve. The sight sent a shiver down your spine, knotting your stomach with an unsettling mix of fear and desire.

He placed a singular hand on your desk, leaning down closer to your level. "Perhaps I pay him a little visit...perhaps I tell him that you've been missing lessons, that you've been extremely unprofessional...perhaps I somehow fail my next exam...perhaps-"

"Okay, okay!" You panicked, cutting him off. "You've made your point, Riddle...I'm sorry, okay?" The words were fucking painful as you forced them past your teeth, and you swallowed your ego, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Let's just get this over with, please?"

Mattheo huffed, gratified by how effortlessly his threats appeared to compel your submission. The gears turned in his head as he grasped the extent of the power he truly wielded over you. He fully understood that your entire post-graduate career almost certainly depended on his decisions, and he was eagerly anticipating taking action.

"I like the way you say please..." his voice was breathless, his dark eyes consumed by something you couldn't really identify as he slumped down in the chair directly next to you, his sight never once leaving yours. "Do it again."

Your body tensed, immobilized as he inched closer, his penetrating eyes scrutinizing your features with intense focus. It was no secret that Mattheo had been oblivious to your existence until he was placed under your guidance--despite being the most popular Slytherin student in the school, you, a practically invisible Ravenclaw, were easy to overlook. It had taken him over three weeks to even remember your name, a fact he never bothered to acknowledge, let alone use.

But within that time frame, within the time you'd been tutoring him; as much as he drove you mentally fucking insane, you couldn't deny that every time he'd show up for lessons with torn knuckles, cut lips and alcohol radiating from his breath--you couldn't help but to feel something in the pit of your stomach.

Whether that sensation was disgust, arousal, or sheer terror, you couldn't quite pinpoint. It was a feeling that whispered in your veins, urging you to surrender to the dominance he held over you. It screamed for you to let him have his way without resistance, because just as he commanded your obedience, he wielded the same control over the entire damn school. The prospect of defying him felt like a dangerous game you weren't willing to play.

"Riddle-"

He tilted his head, his face dangerously close to yours now, his eyes peering into your soul as he stared. As he wet his lips, his breath turning shallow, you felt a feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach, and one between your thighs as well.

"I said, do it again." His voice was a mere breath as it left his lips, his eyes studying you as though you were a page of a textbook. Not that he'd ever read one of those. "Go on, Raven...beg for me..."

Your breath hitched, and you involuntarily clutched the edges of the wooden chair between your fingers with an indescribable force. You didn't want to admit it--not to Mattheo, not to anyone really--but you were a virgin. You'd never even kissed a boy; your entire life was devoted to your studies...so this...this was extremely fucking new to you.

When you remained silent, Mattheo's eyes darkened even further, turning a shade of obsidian so intense they put even the stormiest midnight skies to shame.

"You want me to keep your perfect little reputation intact, hm?" He breathed, leaning closer. "You want me to help you stay on Dumbledores good side?"

Your throat was more arid than the desert, and you nodded, unable to blink--unable to peel your fucking eyes off of him.

"Then do as I say..." he murmured, a large battered hand finding purchase on your thigh, your entire body involuntarily flinching at the foreign contact. "I want to hear you, Raven."

You stared down at his hand resting lazily over the fabric of your blue uniform skirt--it's massive size swallowing up almost the entirety of your thigh, calloused palm catching on the pleats as it slid upwards, agonizingly slowly--and when he paused, stretching his fingers around the diameter of your thigh the best he could, fingers digging into your flesh as he squeezed; you gasped, involuntarily, and he huffed--bringing his lips dangerously close to your ear.

"One more chance..." he purred, and you could practically hear the smirk on his lips. "You won't like what'll happen-"

"Please!" You snapped, squeezing your thighs together out of pure desperation. "Please, Mattheo...please, let's just get this over with..."

"Mm." He hummed in satisfaction, slowly pulling his hand off of you. "That's fucking right..." he murmured, warm breath tickling your ear. "Nothing is sweeter than your submission, Raven."

You swallowed, not daring to look at him, nodding your head frantically in response as he pulled away, slumping back in the chair--not once peeling his eyes off of you, spreading his legs way-too-fucking wide as he made himself comfortable--he was silent, now, watching your chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, watching the way you squirmed in your chair at his sudden dominance--a dominance that had an effect on you that you couldn't even begin to describe.

And then, before you could even realize what was happening, Mattheo leaned back in, his fingers gripping your jaw and tilting your face towards his--and as you meet his dark, intoxicating eyes, your lungs stalled, entire body shrinking in your seat as he stared at you with such intensity that you felt like he could see right through you.

"From now on, I'm in charge here," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "Understand?"

You swallowed the lump of anxiety in your throat, and watched his darkened amber eyes as they glanced over your lips, lingering there for far too long, before returning back up to meet your gaze--something swimming in his irises that made your stomach twist.

When you were silent, he tilted his head, cocking an eyebrow. "Use your words, Raven..."

"Yes." You squeaked, voice barely audible. "I understand."

He hummed, a devilish smirk crawling across his lips, fingers digging into your jaw with added pressure as he pulled you closer, lips so close you'd touch with a deep enough breath.

"Understand, what?" He breathed, eyes dipping over your lips yet again. "Say my fucking name."

"Mattheo..." you couldn't breathe, couldn't move, could only obey his words as though he was controlling you like a puppet on strings. "I understand, Mattheo."

He huffed, smirking. "Good girl, Raven..." his voice was a mere breath as it left his lips, his full lashes fluttering as he blinked, meeting your eyes. "You learn so quickly...I should have done this months ago..."

When he pulled back, slowly releasing you, air slowly returned to your lungs; not enough to rid the dizziness from your brain but just enough to keep you conscious. Mattheo turned toward the desk now, as though nothing even happened, gesturing for you to start the lesson.

And somehow, you did.

—————-

Chapter two->

[ddarker-dreams]

In Life, In Death.

Enver Gortash x F Reader.

Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, obsessive behavior, imbalanced power dynamics, manipulation and brief mentions of blood. Word count: 2k.

Control. 

In all its variations, this word is what you associate most with the tyrant hiding in plain sight — Lord Enver Gortash.

If it’s an art form, then he’s a virtuoso. The invisible score he weaves needn’t hypnotize the listener, no, they are drawn in willingly. Lured by innocuous and diabolical plans, shackled into place by unchecked ambition. Though they may feel unique in their role, to him, they’re little notes that shall fall silent once the page is turned. 

The full vision behind the overture is unknown to even you. From the snippets you’ve overheard, it leaves a sinister impression. Discordant harmonies promise a dark future. 

You thought you’d find satisfaction in stilling his tongue. You dreamt of the day, yearned for it, like a bride one night away from walking down the aisle. From your current vantage point, you should be seconds away from fully realizing this goal. The control he exudes over himself and others can’t be infallible. Nothing is. 

If the gods can bleed, then so can he. 

If the gods can die, then so can he. 

If your fellow man can kill, then so can you. 

“One thing’s for certain, dearest,” he comments, his tongue unfettered as ever, “Our evenings together are never dull.” 

Contrary to your wishes, it’s you who is rendered speechless. 

You are hovering above him, the long skirt of the nicest dress you own rising to accommodate the uncomfortable position. Beneath you lies a man whose dark eyes inspire more trepidation across your features than what’s reflected in his own. A perfect politician’s smile accentuates the bags beneath them. The brief struggle — if it can even be described as such — has left his hair more tousled than usual. It’s splayed out against the wooden floorboards of his study. 

When he speaks, his Adam’s apple rises dangerously close to the blade kissing his skin. This is made riskier by how shaky the implement is in your hands. 

“Breathe, darling,” he instructs, stoking your frustration. Only he would have the audacity to make commands of the person holding him at knifepoint. “You’re seconds shy from passing out in a nervous fit. That would be counterproductive to your designs, I take it?” 

Your nostrils flare. “You want to enter the afterlife making insufferable quips?” 

He considers you for a long moment. 

“The delay’s left me with little else to do.” 

“‘Delay,’” you scoff. Your grip around the hilt tightens. “A self-important egoist to the end.” 

“You’ve made up your mind, then?” 

“Long ago.” 

“Hm,” he hums, the low sound resonating in his chest. “I wonder about that. Fantasizing over my death in your head is a far cry from enacting it out yourself.” 

Your eyes narrow into slits. You want to dismiss this as a petty taunt, but you both know that isn’t the case. It’s why his tone lacks condescension — he’s pointing out a fact. Everything is hitting you simultaneously like you’re being doused in an icy pale of water. The soft smile on his face, the steady rise and fall of his chest, how level-minded he remains despite what should be a looming threat.

Then there’s you. 

Sweat beading down your temples, your breathing erratic and your stomach twisting into knots. You’re acutely aware that outside the heavy mahogany doors stands a legion of Banite fanatics. Some disguised as Flaming Fists, the others choosing not to bother. At Gortash’s command, they’d have no difficulty subduing you. The agonies that’d await afterward… you shake your head, willing the thought from your mind. 

Your eyes flicker to the two golden chalices sitting atop his desk. Wanting to build up courage, you downed most of yours, whereas he nursed his. In retrospect, your uncharacteristic indulgence should’ve warned him that something was off. He, playing the kindly host, always offered a vintage bottle during your tête-à-têtes. You rarely took him up on the offer. Alcohol dulls the senses, which you need to keep razor-sharp in his presence. 

“... You saw this coming, didn’t you?” 

Gortash exhales sharply, his eyes gleaming with entertainment. “I expected some form of retaliation. I am the reason your less clever co-conspirators are idling away in the dungeons instead of scurrying about.” 

This makes you bristle.

“They’re my friends, not ‘co-conspirators,’” you hiss, leaning down to glare at him closer. “And they’ve done nothing to earn such a… a… ridiculous sentence! Libel? Treason? Sedition, of all things? What’s next? Blasphemy?” 

“It could be arranged.” 

“Bastard,” you growl. 

“It’s a jest, dear, a simple jest,” he takes a deep breath when you apply pressure to his solar plexus. His eyebrows pinch together from the pain and he coughs. He strains to speak again, though his cadence is unsettlingly calm. “My girl, there’s a great deal in this world you’re ignorant to. Ironic though it may sound now, there was dissatisfaction over your pacifism. Dissatisfaction that almost gave way to drastic measures.” 

Gortash takes your silence as reason to continue. “The Dark Lord and I are in agreement upon your value. The same cannot be said regarding your… compatriots. They lack your finesse — your practicality. Their single-minded pursuit of ‘justice’ had them poking their nose where it doesn’t belong. I can’t abide by such behavior.” 

You grit your teeth. “Then you should’ve come to me, so I could resolve the problem.” 

His response is immediate, requiring no forethought. 

“You’re soft-hearted. Charitable where you should be strict. Why else would they feel emboldened enough to act against your wishes?” 

“I…!” 

He speaks your name, effectively silencing you.

“Answer me this,” his eyes bely a certain intensity that has you swallowing thickly. “How would you see this city become the shining utopia you long so desperately for it to be? Free of poverty, corruption, and injustice?” 

“That’s never the standard I’ve aspired for,” you reply. “If it was, I never would’ve swallowed my pride and worked alongside you. Progress comes in increments. The ills that plague Baldur’s Gate aren’t chronic, the proper alms can lessen the symptoms. Righting the city’s massive wealth disparity is where I’d start.” 

He smiles at you, his eyes creasing with fondness. “My dear, the rich would sooner surrender their souls than their wealth. It’s intrinsic. When faced with outside pressure, they will exert their own, and it will hurt.” 

“I’m aware of the risks.” 

“Are you, though?” He challenges. His voice grates your ears like a drunkard’s warbling. “Your resolve is commendable — I’ll give you that. I have no doubt you’re every ounce of the bleeding heart you present yourself to be. And therein lies the issue. You can’t quell dissent with a slap on the wrist. The bones are better broken, so the hand can never rise against you again.” 

You roll your eyes. “Spoken like a true tyrant.”  

“Is tyranny so terrible?” Gortash cranes his neck upward, forcing you to move your weapon back, lest it break skin. “When I assume the role of Archduke, I won’t inflict suffering for suffering’s sake. The common folk, when left to their own devices, scramble about like livestock; beholden to superfluous pursuits and preyed on with ease. A little order would serve them well.” 

This song and dance rings familiar. 

In undermining his political aspirations, you found your paths crossing more than you would’ve preferred. It’s these ‘coincidental’ meetings that bore what he labels an alliance. You call it a temporary truce. Funds found themselves in the coffers of almshouses, orphanages, and other charitable programs in exchange for your cooperation. Cooperation being loosely defined as a more subtle subterfuge. 

You wet your lips. When did your mouth go so dry? 

“... Truthfully, I’ve never understood why you let a thorn such as myself remain in your side. These aims of yours would’ve been achieved easier with my death.” 

Outside, a bell tolls, revealing the time to be six in the evening. The window pane behind his desk barely muffles the sound of city life. There’s the clank of metal meeting metal and the thumps of arrows finding their targets as the Flaming Fist train. Children can be heard advertising the latest installment of Baldur's Mouth Gazette. A fellow bard strums his lyre and recounts daring tales from Avernus. 

It’s for these folk that you’ve toiled endlessly. You’ve always held the belief that one can rise beyond the circumstances of their birth, so long as they have the resources available to them. It’s a matter of where they get those resources. Amidst the Mistress of the Revels’ enclave, like you, from the Nine Fingers, or worse, among The Dead Three. The options are infinite yet few are good. 

“The answer’s identical to the doubt plaguing you know — ‘what if I’m offing the lesser evil?’” 

Swifter than you can comprehend, his gauntleted hand seizes your wrist. Before a spell can leave your lips, he brings the blade closer, allowing it to nick his skin. Your eyes widen as droplets of crimson gather and trickle down his neck. The setting sun’s rays reflect against the silver weapon, nearly blinding you. When your eyes readjust, you find something about his expression different. Heavier.

“I’ve seen to it that in the event of my death, no harm would befall you,” he speaks without wincing, despite the blade’s tip penetrating his skin. “My estate, research, and Steel Watch; they’d be yours. Whatever painfully altruistic means you put them to are at your discretion.” 

It feels like the air’s been forcefully squeezed from your body. “A bold lie.” 

“In my desk’s bottom-most right drawer, you’ll find a copy of my will proving the opposite.” 

“To what end?” The question comes out breathless. “You’d throw away your life’s work to— to prove a point?” 

He chuckles darkly. “My girl, your ignorance is as endearing as it is perplexing. You can’t see it? The fascination I hold for you that’d drive me to such extremes? My blatant favoritism?” 

Gortash’s grip around your wrist tightens. 

“A death by these untarnished hands…  I’d claim what remains of your innocence for myself. A prize worth the price of admission into the afterlife.” 

Your head aches, throbbing like your brain itself is being squeezed. You break out into a cold sweat. Favoritism? Is that what this is? Can such debauchery align with the word? It’s painfully obvious now; the amusement your indecision provides him. That, along with someone else. Something foreign. A sweet concept that most spend entire lifetimes chasing, twisted into an omen. 

He says your name with enough reverence to stir envy among the divine.

“What shall it be, darling? My ironclad rule or your fleeting paradise?” 

“...” 

Your hand falls limp. 

You wordlessly move to accommodate as he props himself up. Gortash cleans the blood off your knife with a handkerchief. Next, his ornamented fingers find the hair loosened from your updo during the struggle, tucking the stray pieces behind your ear. The interaction feels like it lasts a lifetime. Warily, you eye the weapon in his non-dominant hand. There’s still a chance that this is a ploy, meant to humiliate you in a final violent act. 

As if sensing your thoughts, he raises an eyebrow. “Out of consideration for our partnership, I’ve never done you any harm, have I?” 

“Physical harm is but a single category,” you murmur, the words notably sluggish. 

“True enough,” is his blasé response. He holds his palm open, as if expecting you to relinquish something. When you remain still, he sternly utters your name. “Give me your hand.” 

You obey his command. 

The gold metal forming his claw-like gauntlet is cold against your skin. He closely scrutinizes your hand, manipulating it so he catches every angle. This dedication reminds you of when he’s tinkering with a new invention. The mental notes he takes, how he maps out dimensions and improvements for future iterations. It could be paranoia, but you swear he studies your ring finger with special interest. 

Slowly, while looking you straight in the eye, he presses an open-mouthed kiss against the bruise forming on your wrist.

“Now that that’s settled… was there anything else on your agenda for the evening?” 

[ash-says]

Being in touch with your sensuality:

On today's episode of ash-says we are going to talk about how to get in touch with your sensuality. Personally it's something I am very passionate about and kind of indulgent too.

Sensuality helps me in feeling alive and in tune with myself. I can't guarantee it for everyone but for me it works wonders. It's like the "Amrut" or "rejuvenating water" (for a lack of better terms) for me. Along with that it's the most healthy way for expressing my sexuality and keeping it in control to not let it affect my day to day functioning.

Here are some ways I incorporated in the last five years of my life to be in touch with my sensuality:

1) Exercise: No matter what I am going to vouch for this always. The way it helps me in expressing the surplus energy and controlling my desires is a chef's kiss. Plus helps in tackling the sluggish feeling.

2) Dance: Especially the slow sensual seductive dance. Not only it's a good outlet but above all that it validates the emotions and creates a space to delve in it to create a beautiful synchronisation with the body movements.

3) Art: Create! Create! Create! Nothing better than creating beautiful art or writing poems, stories,etc to voice your passion for the world and it's offerings.

4) Music: I have playlists on Spotify that specifically cater to my sensual mood. It has all the songs that can set a tone for the bedroom (iykyk). Singing to it or dancing works wonders. It's a magical experience.

5) Meditation: You can meditate on those feelings to internalize it and put all that energy in proper use for achieving a goal,etc. This is something I very rarely do because I am a very active person but putting it out here cause it works for some people.

6)Play Barbie: This is my personal favourite. After all I am just a girl. I put on some makeup, wear a bold sexy outfit or a cute dress (depending on the mood) then spend my time reading a romance novel and listening to sensual songs. It's my kind of therapy🦋🦋

7) Be a model: Being all dressed up but not clicking any photos you got to be kidding me!!! Come on girl! Pose and click! You are not going to be this young again. The best thing I do is this. It literally helps in skyrocketing my confidence. I don't click pictures daily but boy when I do, God forbid!!

8) Unlearn the shame: The basic one. You need to own your body first and appreciate it. I know saying is easy but hey you won't get there if you never start.

9) Imitate things that you find sexy: I will explain this with an example, so I find laying on the bed on my chest with my legs dangling in the air extremely sexy so when I am alone I will lie on the bed in that way as a way of expressing. Secondly, we all know sipping wine while reading a book is incredibly sexy while being dressed all slutty but I don't consume alcoholic beverages so as an alternative I drink pomegranate juice. Plus I find pomegranate as the sexiest fruit for obvious reasons.

10) Invest in things that make you feel sensual and seductive: It doesn't need to be costly. Find your sexy and invest!! For me it's aroma candles, jewellery, deep neck tops, skirts, ribbons, art honestly I have developed a knack to turn any ordinary thing into something seductive atp I feel. Everything works for me. So exploreeee!! If you are experimental enough and don't have parental risks you can try out sex toys too.

That's all for today's show on ash-says. Stay tuned for more illegal tricks and explosive opinions.

[3rachasdomesticbanana]

The Bet | Bang Chan

•Synopsis: After losing a bet with your boyfriend, your penalty is to do whatever he says that night. But what sort of penalty does he have in mind in the middle of a nightclub and why are crotchless panties involved?

Who would've thought losing a bet would be so much fun?

•Pairing: au Bang Chan x Female Reader

•Content Includes: Heavy smut, Established relationship, Public unprotected sex, slight Restricted movement, Soft Dom Chan, Minimal fluff, Crowded area

wc:3k+

an: edited but might still contain some errors

Want more smut? Follow the banana 🍌

“Remember the bet, baby girl.”

Your boyfriend Chan whispers in your ear making you shiver.

You're innocently sitting on his lap in the VIP section of an upscale nightclub somewhere in downtown DC. The club pulses with energy as the heavy bass reverberates through the sleek, dimly-lit space. The air is infused with the scent of expensive perfumes and colognes, mingling with the subtle aroma of alcohol and cigarette smoke.

Smooth leather couches, separated by a red velvet rope line the perimeter of the dance floor, offering cozy spots for groups like our own to relax and chat amidst the excitement. The group of friends you two came with, move with confidence on the dance floor in front of you bathed in hues of deep purples and blues. Hip-hop, EDM, and R&B classics fill every corner of the room. You nod at your boyfriend's words believing he wouldn't go through with the penalty of the bet you lost against him.

Why you bet him that you could deep throat him without gagging wasn't the smartest thing you've done. Chan is far too thick and lengthy to take every inch without gagging even a little when he hits the back of your throat with the swollen head of his cock. Now you wait in a short black leather pleated skirt with a pair of crotchless panties underneath waiting for his command. With every drum his finger plays on your hips you feel your body respond to him. Little touches here and there make you fully aware of all the places his hands and fingers linger on your body. From your back, through the exposed slit down your blouse to your navel. He touches every bit of flesh he can without the movements looking indecent.

There's possibly over a hundred people inside the club and that's just on the floor you're on, there's two other floors below you. You feel certain Chan won't do anything too drastic around all of these people, that he just wants to tease you and keep you on your toes. Though with this man you've been with for years now, you can't ever put anything past him. He's capable of doing so many things others would never dream of doing. If he wants something then nothing will stop him from his goal. It was that way when you met through your boyfriend at the time. He was a toxic asshole and Chris knew he could treat you a thousand times better than he ever could. So he proved it to you every chance he got. Won your heart and eventually your mind, body and soul. You've been happy ever since. Everyday was an adventure with him, full of spontaneity for you, yet carefully thought out in his mind.

So when you feel him lower the zipper of his designer black ripped jeans you're not really surprised. You aren't prepared for him to wrap his arms around your midsection though. In one quick move he pulls you back against his chest and you yelp in surprise. The movement frees his cock from the opening in the front of his boxers. It springs up and out, resting against your ass. Your eyes go wide, your mouth agape and you're at a loss for words. It would take one shift from you for him to slip between your thighs or inside of you. As if he can read your mind, Chan settles his palm flat on your thigh with just enough pressure for you to understand him without words. Doesn't stop him from whispering in your ear though, knowing how his breath on your neck will affect you.

“Don't move baby. Not until I say so. This is a penalty remember… not a reward.” He smirks, proud of himself for this brilliant idea.

Chan is loving this little game of his and he wants to drag it out for as long as he can but the feel of your soft supple ass flushed against his hard length makes him feel like a mad man. He wants to ram himself inside of your sweet slippery walls and plow himself into you until you're creaming all over his cock and dripping down to his balls. He flexes the stiff muscle and grins wickedly when you groan softly. How long can he repeat that move until he feels it inch further and further away from where it rests? until it plops into your needy cunt? He wonders to himself. Maybe if he calculates it right he can make it so his cock doesn't find its way inside of you just yet. He'd love to fuck your thighs for a little bit. Feel you squeeze him with those thick fleshy thighs that he loves.

While you're sitting as still as possible forcing yourself to look as if nothing is wrong, Chan plots behind and underneath you for more ways to tease you like this. Momentarily you're both pulled out of your inner thoughts and intimate bubble when a couple of your friends come over to the table to hydrate and to get you two onto the floor to join them dancing.

“Come on bestie dance with us! Hannie keeps stepping on my feet.” Your best friend exclaims setting down her drink and side eyeing her boyfriend.

“Hey hey that wasn't my fault Minho bumped into me. I'm being framed.” Han puts his hands up in surrender.

You're laughing at the couples playful bickering in front of you but you can feel Chan’s erection twitch again as your laughter rocks your body.

“You two go ahead, you know Chan and I like vibing and watching you guys have fun. We'll join you before the night's over.” You smile in their direction and Chan's does it again.

This time flexing his cock three times making it bounce under you until it slips through your thighs briefly brushing past your clit. Your eyes go wide and you gasp. Very quickly you pretend to sneeze covering your mouth with your hands.

“Bless you baby.” Chan says and you can hear the smile. “Why don't you two show us exactly how to have fun yeah? See if we can compete with you guys later.” He adds over your shoulder and whatever Han sees on his buddies face he's taking your friends hand and pulling her away from the lush VIP area.

He chuckles watching the pair disappear into the crowd and pushes up off the couch as if he's trying to get comfortable but the move only rubs your aching clit with the side of his stiffness. Every vein and ridge brushes the nub making you squeeze your legs together which is exactly what he wanted.

He groans softly before he whispers in your ear, “No moving remember?” and you groan in frustration.

“Please Channie. I'm so wet can't you feel how bad I need you?” You whine, turning your head to look at him.

His coffee colored eyes glitter when they find yours. His full lush lips part and he runs his tongue over them. When you bite down on your own lip you feel him again and you know he's just being stubborn in not giving in and filling you up.

“Because you said please. Slowly scoot up forward to grab your drink off the table and then back down.” He instructs and you nod turning back around.

Your drink, a mix of pineapple and cranberry juice sits in front of you on the oval glass table with beads of condensation dripping down the sides. Stretching your arm out, you slowly inch forward feeling Chan sliding down between your folds becoming slick with your juices. Your hand makes contact with the glass and when you slowly move back to how you were you feel him stretching your cunt wide each inch you push back onto him. The sensation is heavenly and you want to take your time. To enjoy the feeling of him finally inside of you but Chan is an inpatient man and he’s gripping your hips, pulling you back with such force that your drink splashes over the surface and onto the floor. You inhale sharply clutching the glass tighter than you normally would on a normal night out.

If you thought the feeling of Chan inside of you was heavenly, he'll describe it as exquisitely delectable. God he loves it when he bottoms out inside of you, loves it when you take all of him so well. He'll push himself even further though there's no where left for him to go just to hear you whimper the way you are now.

“Shhhh baby, that's it. Fuck. Now no moving no matter what. Good.”

You feel his cock pulsating inside you and keeping a neutral face has never been more difficult than now. If you two weren't surrounded by at least a hundred people right now your ass would be bouncing up and down on him until he was shooting and filling you up but instead you sit still, following his directions and sporting a very natural blush that no makeup brand could ever replicate.

How long could you both sit here like this without needing to cum? How could he even control himself to not thrust. Damn it… he feels too good and you need some stimulation so you ignore what he's told you to do and begin rocking back and forth nodding your head like you're doing nothing more than enjoying the song that the DJ plays. It's enough to make you cum right there but Chan's strong hands stops you with a groan sucking in air between his teeth.

“Hey hey hey.” He says softly. “You were being such a good girl.” His voice his husky and low, it makes your muscles clench around him and when he groans again it does nothing to stop the need you feel.

“Channie.” You whine, not caring about your dignity. “I can't do this. It's too much I need you to fuck me.” You admit squeezing your legs and in the process, squeezing his cock with your cunt.

He curses under his breath fanning your hair at the nape of your neck making you shiver. It's unintentional, completely innocent but you shivering pulls a instinctive thrust from Chan. When you moan he does it again and you have to remember that you're not alone when the urge to arch your back and grind your way into a climax tries to take over. Chan is fighting a battle that he feels he may lose because you just feel too good wrapped around him. Even if you don't move, all you have to do is bear hug his cock and he'll lose his sanity, his composer and unravel.

He didn't think he'd be the one suffering right along with you. As someone who thinks everything through he didn't think of this part. Now he's fighting his compulsions and the impulse to fuck you hard and rough even with an audience. When he makes any sort of sound it only turns you on even more and he knows your walls can't help but clench in response. The way your pussy swallows him up, contracting around him like it's trying to milk him has his brain going fuzzy.

“Fuck, y/n baby. I'm so glad this pussy is mine. If I fucked you right now could you control yourself baby? Or would everyone know that I'm deep inside of you giving you all eight inches of my cock? Hm?” Chan growls gritting his teeth digging his fingertips into your skin.

“Mm- I… I can try baby. I can't make any promises. You've got me too worked up. Please just fuck me though. I don't want to wait until we're home and I definitely don't want you to stop.” You reply sounding breathless as if you two had already been going at it.

“If we're doing this you have to keep still, no moving yeah? You do exactly what I say. If not then we're stopping. This is so we don't get caught okay?”

You nod looking straight ahead, focusing your eyes on the lighting fixtures that hang from the ceiling. They cast subtle patterns on the walls, adding to the ambiance around the club. Occasionally, bursts of colored light sweep across the room, adding to the atmosphere and hypnotizing you when you feel Chan start to move. He's squeezing his legs together like you were doing and bounces his legs to the beat of the song. Each squeeze and bounce creates a tiny thrust, his cock, barely moving in and out but it feels so good you almost close your eyes.

“Dance with me baby. Tap your foot. Fuck- mnh squeeze my cock with your pussy.”

You don't need to be told twice you do as asked without hesitation and the added movement on your part increases the thrusts. He's able to pull out of your cunt further, before snapping back up into you. The music is your focus though you don't hear what's playing, you keep the rhythm Chan has, nodding your head and keeping your breathing even. It's not easy, there's moments where you let slip a moan or a gasp that gets drowned out by the bumping bass. Even Chan can't control the raw uncontrolled sounds that escape him each time your pelvic muscles grip him.

Luckily for you two all your friends are still on the dancefloor but for how long? That thought is all too apparent to Chan and he cannot have anyone interrupting this. It feels too good to stop; he'd be liable to burn the place down in a fit of rage if he was forced to pull out of you before creaming your pussy, breeding you just how you both love. Heads will roll if he doesn't get to finish you both off.

“Need… mmm. Shit baby girl, I need you to cum q- quick can you do that for me?” He asks, his voice strains and his hands snake around your abdomen wrapping you in his arms. You nod in response. It's all you can do, you're afraid that if you try to utter a single word you won't be able to stop the noises that will spill from your lips.

“Good girl, now squeeze me and rock your body to the beat like you were doing before.” He steals your drink from your hand and brings it up to his lips nonchalantly but you hear his moans when you tighten your muscles.

Chan is close; he just needs you to reach your peak so that he can spill himself inside of your greedy cunt. So with his free hand he gently presses his palm down on your stomach just below your belly button. The pressure makes your legs shake and you stutter with your rocking but you find the rhythm again with ease, grateful that the song is a fast paced one.

With his cock throbbing inside of you and the rocking motion of your hips, Chan is now grunting behind you, quietly praising you behind the glass of your drink.

“Oh fuck baby, keep going. Mhm you're close now aren't you y/n? Yeah, I can feel it. So gorgeous when you cum. I can just imagine how you look right now, flushed cheeks, lips parted wanting to scream my name.” He grunts and adds more pressure to your abdomen and bucks his hips once and fast.

He's right you are close and you're more than certain that you're making a mess of the front of his jeans. Neither of you care, your impending shared orgasm on the forefront of your minds. With every rock of your hips you feel Chan's cock bump against that sweet spot nestled deep inside of you that only he can reach. Your walls quiver and you bite down hard on your bottom lip. Your brows crinkle together, making you look angry while you fail to look like nothing is happening other than a happy couple enjoying the music the DJ provides. Behind you Chan is struggling but not for long. With a popping sound, your bottom lip springs out from your teeth and you're gasping like you can't get enough air into your lungs.

“Chan… fuck.” You gasp and that's all that he needs to hear. He understands exactly what you mean.

“Yes…” He hisses, pushing his pelvis hard against you. “That's my girl. Oh fuck,” He gasps along with you. “Cum all over me y/n.” Chan mutters cumming inside of you, shooting hard and deep while the walls of your cunt throb with your own release.

With your movements slightly restricted to stay unnoticed, the orgasm is unlike any others that Chan has coaxed from you. It’s as if you've been plunged into an icy lake and the suddenness takes your breath away. Your body is on pins and needles and fucking hell does it feel unbelievable for both you and Chan. Your cunt devours every bit of his seed, still hungry for more. You're shaking all over and it takes Chan’s strong arms hugging you to slow down your breathing and your body to relax.

“Fuck.” You whisper and he chuckles.

“Mhm, I can't wait to get you home y/n. Hope you've got nothing planned tomorrow. I don't think you'll be able to walk when I'm done with you baby.” He informs you and your pussy reacts clamping down around his slowly softening cock.

“Oh, is someone already ready for another round?”

“Another round? Hell yeah bro let's end the night with a fucking bang!” Felix cheers from seemingly out of nowhere, pulling you and Chan back to the now. The shy giggles you two let out leave everyone confused as they join the table one by one.

After ordering another round for the group you both excuse yourselves and as descritley as possible separate from each other without anyone noticing. The whole way to the restroom laughter erupts from you and Chan.

“I can't believe we did that!” Chan shouts over the music and pulls you into his arms. His lips land on yours kissing you until your head is spinning.

“Keep that up Mr. Bang and I'm pulling you into the bathroom with me.” You scold him playfully. He calls your bluff, kissing you again and grabbing your ass for good measure.

“Go on, I'll be waiting beautiful.” he nods in the direction of the restroom doors.

Once cleaned up you and Chan rejoin your friends. Finally making it to the dancefloor, you dance an entirely different dance than before. Your body still feels lit up and the craving you have for your boyfriend still remains. You'll hold him to his promise when you get home but the one thing you love about him is that he always stays true to his word. You know he'll deliver, he's all action as well as words. Who would've thought losing a bet could be so much fun?

(tag test)

@oddracha

[bitterrfruit]

wild cherries [2]

[masterlist]

Price x f!Reader - tags: modern western AU, cowboy!Price, light sadomasochism, brat taming, spanking, humiliation, chasing, dubcon if you squint 18+ mdni - 7.1k words

Old enough now to change your name When so many love you, is it the same? It's the woman in you That makes you want to play this game

If Mr Price’s goal had been to deter you, he had sorely failed. 

Not his scoldings, nor his threats, nor his blatant distaste for you and your family did anything to discourage your habits. More than anything, he emboldened you. There was something in his voice, you thought, some reflection in his censorious eyes that told you there was more to find. That you needed only summon the bravery to dig deeper. 

You were sent home with the uneaten jam, and when you dumped it on the kitchen counter, Evelyn had scoffed, appalled; “What an asshole.”

When you asked her what she thought was going to happen, she merely sucked her teeth and stormed off to inform Miles of your apparent failure. 

There was more at play than they were willing to share with you, though that wasn’t uncommon. That had even been the case even while your parents were still alive. You’re just away-with-the-fairies, daddy used to tell you, and thus your siblings deemed you ill-prepared; too airheaded to assist them with the supposedly meticulous puzzle of running a family business.

It didn’t bother you, though, not too much. It did hurt when they would exchange unspoken words at your expense, shooting each other a glance when you attempted to wedge yourself into whatever scheme they were working on. But, all the same, you knew that you would hate shouldering that level of responsibility. That you’d bitterly begrudge the weight of generational expectations if they were dropped on you, as they were on them. 

No, as the youngest, silliest sibling, you were given more grace. You were allowed to roam unfettered. Not purposefully, no explicit permission was given to encourage your escapades - instead, not two days after returning home, it was as though they had forgotten that you were there at all. If you kept to yourself, stayed out of trouble, they paid no mind to your capers; there was always something more important that pulled their attention away. 

So, while they were busy ordering around their ranchmen and managing the many industries of your family ranch, you had already slithered through your little broken gate, before the scorching midsummer sun had made it halfway across the sky.

You meandered down the rows of his overgrown cherry trees like they belonged to you. The trees were old, likely fruiting since before you were born, and their trunks were thick and sturdy at the base. They had once been well pruned, so the lower branches were stockier, but years of neglect had allowed skinnier, floppier chutes to grow out from the tops. They were so laden with fruit that they drooped low, and you felt as if they were reaching down to offer their treats directly to you. 

You picked the prettiest, glossiest, reddest ones, and made a basket out of the skirt of your cream-coloured frock; nobody was around to see your bared legs underneath, and so you collected as many as would fit. Popping them behind your teeth and meticulously nibbling the flesh from the pit, you’d spit the cleaned core into the grass as you moved onto the next. Maybe, you thought, the pits you discarded would one day grow into even more trees to succeed the old ones.

You left a trail wherever you ventured. Little wet pits and green tooth-pick stalks in piles around the place; in stables, along pathways, among the cows. Sometimes you’d leave juicy red fingerprints on door frames, on the planks of fences, on horse snouts – perfectly incriminating.  

In scuffing sandals you wandered aimlessly along an old dirt road, long unused; green sprigs of grass and bunches of wildflowers almost covered it entirely. An old route that settlers may have followed state to state, spotted occasionally with two-hundred-year-old milestones, ignored just enough to have been spared from crumbling to dust.  

Shaded by a cottonwood, humming to yourself, you created a little tipi with your cherry stalks on the flat top of a mile marker. Balanced them carefully as you licked sweet flesh from your teeth. And when a gentle breeze blew it over, scattering your creation, you leaned over the stone to pick them from the dry gravel around its base.  

One, two, three, four… 

At the familiar rumble of a truck trundling over dirt, you straighten your spine, palms resting on the edge of the milestone as you look over your shoulder. A dusty Chevy square-body had already coasted to a stop behind you, pale blue paint faded and matte after at least a decade of proper use.  

There he was, the enigmatic man, hanging his elbow out of the open window. John squinted at you through the glare of the afternoon sun, the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes pinching, barely shaded by the cattleman he wore even inside his truck. Your throat bobbed with a swallow as you caught his eye, adrenaline flickered like a flame in your chest. 

With a disapproving suck of his teeth, he grumbled at you, “What’d I tell you, last time I saw you?” 

Plucking the short skirt of your cotton dress downward, to cover where it had ridden up, you spun around to face him demurely.  

“D’you remember?” He insisted, tone richly disparaging. 

“You don’t want trouble,” you answered meekly, through a little smile, shyly scratching the back of one hand with the fingernails of the other. 

“I don’t want trouble,” he repeated, a confirming grunt, as he tapped the metal door with his palm. He flicked his head, gesturing for you to make your way around to the passenger side. “G’on. Get in.”  

Your brows knotted in doubtful confusion. “What for?” 

“I’m takin’ you back to your brother,” he barked, irate and impatient, “I’ve got some words for him, too.” 

You absently kicked the rocky dirt with the heel of your sandal, pouting at him. “What words would those be?”  

With a snort, he rocked his head to glare ahead out of his windshield, then back to you. “To keep a fuckin’ handle on you.”  

“Don’t think there’s anything you could tell him that he hasn’t already tried,” you mumbled, attempting to subtly flick the handful of cherry stalks you had collected to the ground.  

He chuckled at that, breathy and hoarse, a hint of frustration in his throat. “I believe that,” he scoffed. “C’mon. In. Don’t make me ask again.”  

You chewed on your lip, squinting in challenge as you stood up straight. “Or what?”  

Glowering at you, nostrils flared in frustration, he seemed to swallow what must have been an inappropriate retort. Instead, his arm retracted through his window, and following the thud of the handle he swung open the door with his forearm.  

With a hop he landed in the dirt, dust rising from under his well-worn leather boots. Christ, how he towered over you. It may well have been the menacing shadow of his sizzling anger that made him seem so daunting, and yet so delightfully thrilling. You felt the prickles of gooseflesh tingle down the back of your neck as you tilted your head to look up at him, sheepishly watching his steady approach, not yet daring to retreat.  

“You’ll be in more trouble than I will if you lay a hand on me,” you spat, with a faint smirk in your lips.  

He gazed down the bridge of his nose at you, lour combed you from your bare legs to your skittish expression - but, stare caught brazenly on your chest, his sneer sunk quickly into a pout of disapproval.

“Care to explain this?” He queried severely, wide hand reaching for you, you leaned back further against the milestone behind you as if you might evade him. With his fingers he pinched the cream cotton of your blouse, and for a moment you feared he was peering down the gap, blatantly inspecting your bare breasts underneath.  

But, no, he instead curled the light fabric between his fingers to show you the bright red stain dribbled down the front.  

Oops. Your gut reaction was to giggle, yet unsure whether to admit guilt or feign ignorance. 

As you parted your lips to speak, his judging hand moved to your face; a hold of your chin with a thumb and hooked finger. Piercing eyes glued to your lips, his impatient focus withered into ire, shadowed under the brim of his cattleman.  

Your tongue writhed behind your teeth, heart thumping in your throat, as he tilted your head up and to the side. His thumb wiped over your bottom lip, firmly and precisely, from the corner to the centre. Your lips were suddenly hypersensitive, his touch charged, it sent a tingling current through the soft pink flesh and made your mouth all wet. 

“You’re a little thief,” he gritted, dropping your head and peering at the red smear of juice on the pad of his thumb. “Aren’t you.”  

Were you scared of him? 

It was hard to distinguish your fluttering heart rate between terror and thrill – a touch of both. Because you didn’t know him. You couldn’t trust him. You had no basis to assume he wouldn’t club you with a closed fist and throw you in the back of his pickup. But you felt the prickles his touch left behind on your lip. You got stuck on his pinched blue eyes, the glare of the sun reflected off your dress and illuminated them like they glowed from within.  

“No I’m not,” you muttered, readjusting your dress after he left creases in the neckline.  

“And a liar?” He scoffed, as he grabbed one of your wrists – tugging up your hand to reveal the sticky burgundy juice under your fingernails, drips dried in your palm. “You’re covered in evidence, honey.”  

Snatching your hand from him, you crossed your arms in petulance. “It’s not stealing if you don’t use it.”  

“The fuck it isn’t,” he snapped, wiping his juicy thumb off on his denim-blue button down, leaving a stain of red among the blue. He hooked his hands onto his hips. “Now get in the goddamn truck.”  

“I can walk home,” you grumbled, “you’re not the boss of me.”  

Huffing in anger, he leaned forward, looming over you with a domineering scowl. “While you’re on my property – yes I am.”  

Glaring up at him from under your brow, you nibbled at the inside of your lip, pursing your lips. “What’re you gonna do if I don’t go with you. Kidnap me?”  

He tilted his head, shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve got some rope in the truck,” he gruffly warned, “you gonna make me use it?”  

Did you imagine the glint in his eye? Did you make up the lascivious quip in his tone? Whether or not it was dreamt, it plucked a coy smirk in your lips.  

He was daring you, wasn’t he? Goading you to challenge him.  

So with a glistening smile you reached for his cattleman hat – plucked it from his head, and swiftly placed it on your own. Too big to sit properly, you perched it on the back of your head so that you could still see out from under the brim.  

“Hey!” He barked, lunging to snatch it back from you – but you bolted, kicking off your sandals, ducking under his arm and sprinting across the dirt road. Through the field of grass and dry wildflowers, you bounded like a deer. “Fuck’s sake.”  

Holding his hat in place, you peeked over your shoulder in your escape, and he was swiftly in pursuit.  

“God dammit, girl, you get back here!” He roared – already closing the distance. You hadn’t expected a man as bulky as him to sprint as fast as he was, but he charged after you like a grizzly.  

You only giggled, leaping over fallen logs and stray planks of wood, weaving between the trees that littered the outskirts of his prairies.  

“If you get so much as a dent in that hat I’ll fuckin’–”  

“You’ll what?” You squealed through a grin, holding the skirt of your short dress in a fist against your hips, to allow your legs to sprint in full stride.  

You heard him grunt, close to a growl, as he encroached on you. “You’ll be in big fuckin’ trouble!” 

Breathless, panting, you failed to think of any witty response as you dashed towards one of the many stables on his expansive property – this one devoid of horses or livestock, simply a storage building for stacks of haybales and racks of tools. You’d perused it before. He might have found more discarded cherry pits in there. 

He was behind you already, as you barrelled through the ajar stable door, tumbling into the centre of the dishevelled space. Illuminated only by the cracks of glowing sunlight that broke through gaps in the plywood boards, you stood among scattered hay and dust. You turned and faced the entrance, watching in anticipation as he steamed in after you.  

Face burning red in fury and exasperation, he jabbed two angry fingers in your direction. “Give me the hat,” he ordered, throaty and severely – not an ounce of humour left.  

But stubborn as you were, overly enjoying the needless chase, you were not going to capitulate that easily. You stood poised to dash, and with hunched shoulders, he prepared to hound after you.  

“I like it,” you puffed, exhilarated, purposefully impudent. You pinched the brim, pulling it down with a disingenuous hat-tip. “It probably looks better on me.”  

“Even if it does,” he chided through teeth, out of breath, “it’s not yours.”  

You snickered girlishly, pursing your lips. “Maybe it should be.”  

“Give it to me.” He thundered, hand outstretched, your heart flipped within your ribs at the sudden eruption of stern rage.  

So you spun on the ball of your bare foot, before flitting hastily towards the rickety ladder that led up to the hayloft. Clambering up it like a spider, the old wood and rusted nails squealed in dispute of being used for likely the first time in decades.  

But he was blindingly rapid in his chase, and before you made it even halfway up the ladder, his heaving forearm scooped around your waist and hooked you by the stomach.  

“C’mere,” he growled, through a clenched jaw, as he peeled you from the ladder; hoisting you like a small animal, he held your back to his chest with a constricting arm and your feet dangled high off the ground. 

You writhed and kicked, bucking like a goat, still holding his hat tightly to your head to prevent him from snatching it back from you. “Let go of me!” You squeaked, still giggling.  

“No,” he snarled, “I’m taking my fuckin’ hat back, and then I’m taking you back to your big brother so he can knock some goddamn sense into you.” 

You whinged, clutching his thick forearm in an effort to loosen his grip. You dug your nails into his tanned and hairy skin, corded with veins bulging from the exertion of keeping you contained. His body burned like a furnace, pectorals stiffening underneath you as he flexed them while he began hauling you towards the exit.  

“It’s just a hat,” you whined, “you’ve probably got plenty of them.”  

Your obstinance was aimless – no particular interest in the hat, and no true understanding of why you fought so desperately to keep it. Maybe you just wanted to see how far you could push him. Wanted to see what would happen once you went over the edge.  

“It was my father’s,” he griped, anger approaching a boiling point as you continued to squirm around in his grip.  

You groaned in dispute, still holding the leather cattleman tightly to your head. “Well he won’t be needing it, will he?”  

That was a step over the line.  

You knew it immediately, quick to bite down hard on your tongue after the words spat from your lips like poison.  

His retaliation was sudden and severe; dragging you closer to the exit, he tossed you unceremoniously, almost tumbling down with you into the pile of block-shaped haybales that sat by the stable door. You landed face-down against a bale, winded, a squeak jumping from your chest with the impact; and his hat toppled from your head, rolling out of reach.   

He dropped to his knees behind you, leaned his forearm heavy against your lower back, and you were flustered and confused by his haste – skirt hitched up by the fall, he suddenly swung his free hand down with an open palm, smacking against the bare skin of your ass with a thunderous whack. 

“Ah!” You squealed, a shriek, followed quickly by a breathless whine that slipped from your lungs outside of your control. The explosive clap rang in your ears, echoing within the bowels of the stables, loud and shrill. And the sting was sharp, hot and prickling like a brand, no doubt the raised outline of his hand was quick to form in your shivering skin.  

A silence followed, pregnant and heavy, and you dared not move nor breathe too loudly – you inhaled and exhaled with trembling breaths, lips parted and wet, eyes wide as you stared into the packed hay.  

He was dead quiet, too. Panting throatily, he kept you in place - grip of you not easing, though he stayed utterly still. You waited for him to apologise, to express some remorse for his blatant degradation, to beg for you not to tell your family what he did. But he was silent. Almost proud. 

You tilted your head slowly, peering at him doe-eyed over your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you whimpered, close to a whisper, dripping with pleading humiliation.  

“For what?” He growled; voracity burned hot and bright in his otherwise shadowed glower, and you felt yourself shrivel, intimidated into diffident obedience.  

With a whine you turned your head back, facing ahead into the shack wall, you spoke quietly and nervously. “For taking your hat.”  

Followed another swing of his arm, wide hand colliding with your rear in another deafening crack, forcing a laboured squeak from your chest. But there was something more than pain in your throat, wasn’t there? A whisper of thrill, a yelp of delight in your subsequent gasp.  

And he must have heard it, taken it as encouragement. You felt the hand that pinned you down curl into a fist, balling the fabric of your dress tightly in his palm and lifting up the hem even further. You felt the cool air of the stable bite at your stinging skin, your rear entirely exposed to him.  

“Yeah?” He rumbled, gritting teeth, huffing like a beast. “What else?” 

You stared face down into the bale of prickling hay, sipping the turgid air like warm milk and scouring your mind for your next apology. There was a long list of transgressions he could demand an apology for. Would he punish you for every single one? Did you want him to? 

His spread hand hovered over the skin of your ass, a threat – it ghosted over the fine fuzz and triggered ripples of gooseflesh to radiate out from the faint touch. 

“I’m sorry for–” you uttered, barely a croak, “for making you chase me.” 

The second you spoke it, your entire body tensed itself on instinct – girding itself for the discipline that would inevitably follow. Swift and purposeful, he raised his arm, reeling it back like the string of a bow. And he released it just as suddenly, hurling his palm downward rapidly enough to emit a whistle through the air; it collided with your ass in a sharp smack, over the same burning handprint he had already left there. 

The force of it thrusted you forward, knocked a helpless squeal from your throat. You whimpered at the grit and dust grinding under your knees as it rocked you, your hands that had flat on the haybale turned to fists as you desperately squeezed handfuls of straw. 

“Mhm,” he grumbled, grave and deep. “And?” 

You swallowed air through your open mouth, your heart thundered in your ears – out of breath, but too wary to inhale deeply enough to sate it.  

“For…” you hesitated, “for talking bad on your father.” 

Keeping your hips still with his restraining forearm, he raised his free arm once again; you held your breath, squeezed shut your eyes in preparation for the blow. Swing. Smack. 

Each collision of his vicious hand over the same spot burned worse than the last, as though his palm was adorned with barbs that pierced your fevered skin on impact. Yet a quiet moan slithered from your chest, slipped from your tongue, oozed like honey. 

He drew in a grumbling breath, strained as he sucked it deep. Could he hear the pining titillation in your throat, dripping from each yelp? Might he hit you harder for it?  

You winced, shivered, as his wide hand rested against the matching print that only grew more raised and more red by the second, the touch by turn warming and punishing. “Keep goin’.” 

“I’m–” 

Bitten off by a gasp as his fingers pushed in only slightly, they burrowed into the pillowy flesh of your ass as though the squeeze was unintentional – the pressure on your near-broken skin inflicted a sparkling ache that made you whimper. 

“I’m sorry for stealing cherries,” you force out, in a wet mewl. 

He bore his dissatisfaction with a cocksure suck of his teeth. “Whose cherries?” 

“Yours,” you squeaked.  

“Mh,” he nodded, grinded out through a tight jaw. “Mine.” 

Followed quickly your castigation; the swish of his hand hurtling through the air, the ear-splitting crack of his open palm striking beaten flesh, the whine of twisted thrill that squealed out from your lips. 

“My cherries–” he spat, unrelenting; again he lifted his palm, letting it hover in the air for a brief moment before he brought it down with a force.  

Smack. 

“–My orchard–” 

Smack. 

“–My hat–” 

Smack. 

“–My horses–” 

Smack. 

“–My stable–” 

Smack. 

“–My land.” 

Smack. 

The final blow threw a saccharine cry from your heaving lungs, dosed with a shameful squeak of desperation, wet and eager; eyes watering, your head collapsed into the haybale, prickly against your bright red cheek. 

The skin of your rear stung numb, throbbing like a heartbeat, your knees shook with the adrenaline that riddled you from head to toe and turned your muscles to jelly.   

You adjusted your knees to balance yourself after he had knocked you off kilter, and you felt the slick that had seeped from you. With a grimace of ignited humiliation, you realised your cunt was drenched in slippery syrup, the cool air biting cold at the saturated patch of your floral pointelle panties. 

You could only suck your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down in abashment and guilt, self-flagellation for the burning heat that had pooled between your legs; almost as blindingly consuming as the white-hot sting of his hand-shaped brand. 

He leaned back from you, balanced himself with his hand on your ass. Panting like a wolf, he wiped his brow with the back of his hand as though he had overexerted himself, broken a sweat in his outburst. Seemed to pause as he looked over his handiwork – had spanked you hard enough that you wouldn’t doubt how crisp the perfect outline of his hand would have been. Perhaps it was purple, speckled with the spots of broken capillaries and blood seeping under the hot skin. 

But it mustn’t have been the damage he had inflicted that he was stuck on, as you heard his heavy breathing degrade into hoarse, animalistic chuffing; a broken grunt as though he had been kicked in the stomach. 

You felt his thumb, slow and probing as though influenced by an unseen force – creep towards the cleft of your ass, running along the elastic lace hem of your panties. Teased the trim like it might slip underneath, but it didn’t. No, instead, he hovered it over the gusset, barely grazing the sodden fabric. 

Eyes fluttering shut, you inhaled weakly, a quiet whine as he pushed his thumb into the valley of your cunt; wetting the tip with your fluid that soaked the thin cotton, dipping into you as though the single layer of fabric wasn’t the only barrier preventing him from plunging it deeper. 

He must have felt the ring of muscle at your entrance tighten and twitch, an inadvertent reflex to his intrusion – because he pressed the pad of his thumb a little deeper to feel it flutter around him, before he pulled his hand away. You quickly released a sharp and feverish breath, cunt still pulsing around the painful absence of his finger. 

“Alright,” he huffed, through teeth, as he rubbed the back of his head in exasperation. “Reckon you learned your lesson?” 

You squeaked as you felt his pelvis press against yours, weighing against you from behind; as he leaned over you, reaching past you to pick up the cattleman that he had knocked from your head. 

“Huh?” He persisted.  

“Yes,” you croaked, realising his demand, you were quick to follow it. You leaned upright, kneeling still, as you tugged down the skirt of your dress to cover yourself; grimacing as the light fabric brushed over the burning welt on your rear. 

With a hand on his knee he pushed himself to stand, sniffing in vexation as he dusted off his jeans. Bowed his head to put his hat back in its rightful place, pinching the leather crown with a single hand as he gave it a shimmy to adjust it. “Yes what?” 

Through a whimper, you whispered, “Yes sir.” 

“’Atta girl,” he gritted, “learned you some manners.” 

You feebly swept a lock of your dishevelled hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, too poignantly humiliated to think of anything pert to utter. 

“Up y’get.” 

It took you a moment to gather the nerve to stand, breathing carefully as you placed your hand on the edge of the haybale. Impatient, evidently, John bent down to you, slipping his broad hands under your arms in an effort to pick you up. 

You yipped, wriggling away from his grasping hands as he hoisted you upright, and you landed on your feet with a wobble. “I can walk,” you bit. 

“Yeah, right,” he groused, spinning you by the torso before hooking his arm around your waist; you yelped as he tossed you callously over his shoulder like a wet rag. “I ain’t letting you run off again, missy.” 

“I wasn’t gonna run,” you whinged, but you mustered no resistance as he hauled you towards the stable door, kicking it open with his boot. 

He snorted as he adjusted you on his shoulder, carting you out into the scorching midday sun. The hum of the cicadas blared, almost deafening, and there was no cool breeze to alleviate the burn on your rear; only the sun to bake it.  

Trudging through the long grass, no doubt towards his truck, he chided; “D’you expect me to trust you?” 

You bit your tongue, combed your scrambled mind for any retaliation. “I don’t want to get in trouble again,” you mumbled.   

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he sneered, “I think trouble is the only thing you want.”  

The pressure of his thumb lingered against your entrance, a permanent impression that made your heart flutter at the memory. Perhaps he was right.  

“That’s not true.”  

“No?” He questioned scornfully, grasping hand digging into the side of your waist to keep you steady. “Then why’d you come back here, huh?”  

You pouted, staring into the grass, watching the back of his boots rise and fall with each step. Would you tell him it was just to see him? Just to have him find and scold you? Just to toe the line? Long since crossed, wasn’t it.  

“I wanted some cherries,” you lied.  

“Uh-huh,” he scoffed, as the grass began to shorten, bleeding to the rubble and dust of the old road. You heard the deep click of a handle, the rattling of the truck door, the moaning of its old hinges as it swung open. “Was it worth it?” 

You hesitated, gasping as he tossed you into the passenger door of his Chevy – you landed on your back across the worn leather bench seat, bouncing slightly in the fall, head narrowly missing the steering wheel. 

“Yes,” you breathed, to answer his question, and he froze like you had caught him in a bear trap.  

He stood imperiously between your knees as your feet dangled out of the open door, skirt having been rucked up by the landing. He glowered down at you, lips in a thin and admonishing line, but his predacious eyes betrayed his stoicism.  

Glare clawed down your splayed form from your dewy lips to the swell of your breasts, to the bare skin where your thighs met your hips. Catching a glimpse of the mound of your pussy from under the hem, hidden from him by the dainty fabric of your underwear.  

He breathed raggedly through flared nostrils, put a white-knuckled hand against the top of the doorframe, casting a looming shadow over your body. His gaze was pointed, fiery, burned from lidded eyes - you felt the heat of his stare, it made you sweat. Made your cunt ache unbearably for his attention.  

Tongue squirming, too bashful to form a plea; you made your entreaty with a meek hand, tracing your fingertips down your stomach, catching in the pleats and folds of your linen dress. With a hook of your fingers under the hem of your skirt, you coaxed it upwards, coyly exposing yourself bit by bit. Watched cautiously as his lour raptly followed your movements, belying his stone-faced expression.  

But he stopped you, or himself, with a light smack on the outside of your thigh, a scolding. And he ordered, dark and strained;  

“Settle down.”  

With a moan of petulant defeat, you dropped your arm to your side.  

“I’m takin’ you home,” he grumbled, reaching for your skirt – did so with purposeful cruelty, letting his calloused hand graze up your thigh as he grabbed the hem and tugged it downwards to cover your panties.  

He took impatient hold of your knees and swivelled them inside the cab, before shutting the passenger door with a creaking swing and a loud slam. You sat yourself upright, wincing at the painful reminder of the lashings on your rear as it pressed into the firm leather seat. He marched around the truck and hopped in behind the steering wheel, you crossed your arms churlishly as you glared out the passenger window.  

You bounced around in your seat as he started the engine and accelerated off down the deteriorated dirt road, the vibrations of the rolling vehicle doing little to settle the sore throbbing between your legs.  

“I’m telling my brother what you did,” you griped, rich with spite.  

“You can tell ‘im whatever you want,” he scoffed, hanging his arm out his open window, wrenching the steering wheel in the tight grip of his closer hand.  

“I’ll tell him you hit me.”  

“Yeah?” He gibed, “Gonna tell him how worked up you got?”  

Scowling, you felt your cheeks glow red as you stared out the window. “I’m not worked up,” you fibbed.  

“Sure seems like it.” You could hear his smirk without having to look at him.  

You fumed. “Sounds like you’re proud of yourself." 

He only released a quiet huff of scornful laughter in response to that. Nothing snide left to say, now that you’d accused him of purposefully arousing you. But he was right. It was all you could think about, writhing and sizzling in your mind and in your stomach; a fire that he had lit. Now he mocked you for being ablaze.  

You could only sulk, keeping your arms vitriolically crossed and refusing to utter a single word until the truck rolled up your drive, and came to a halt over the raw gravel of the turn-around. 

You spotted Miles in discussion with the foreman by the front steps of your family farmhouse, head bowed as though discussing something of import. But upon seeing John’s truck approaching, he dismissed him with a wave, and adjusted the black pinch-front hat that shaded his face while walking in the truck’s direction. 

John left the engine running and hopped out with a grunt. You sorely begrudged the idea of letting him best you, allowing him to feel like he had been victorious in forcibly taming you. Your cheeks, still pink, burned even hotter at the thought of him scolding you to your brother like you were wayward juvenile. 

So in the brief seconds you had before he stormed around to the passenger side, you slipped your hands under your dress. Tucked your fingertips into the waistband of your panties, bucked your hips as you shimmied them down your legs and plucked them over your feet. And you nestled them behind you, out of sight as John yanked open your door, beckoning with an impatient and commanding hand for you to step out.  

You groaned as you followed his wordless demand, jumping down into the gravel and glaring up at him with a vindictive curl in your lips. You spitefully stayed still, then, not taking a step in any direction of your own volition, wary that he might glance upwards and spot the coquettish little calling card you left in his truck.  

“Move it,” he ordered.   

You only pouted. “You’re such a dick.”  

With an exasperated roll of his eyes, he tugged your shoulder in the direction of your house – then lodged his hand at the back of your neck, under your hair, an authoritative grasp so that he could drive you by it. And he did, you stumbled awkwardly over your bare feet as he nudged you along.  

Miles had his hands on his hips, but crossed his arms dubiously as he came to a stop in front of you.

“Jonathan,” he greeted stiffly, blinking at you with a knit in his brow. “Y’found her.” 

You gave him a look of insolent anger before you glared into the distance, flushed with fervent humiliation, disguising it as malice. You crossed your arms over your chest, hiding the cherry stains from him. 

“Trespassing,” John growled tersely. “Again.” 

Miles hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, squinting at him. You had expected him to put up more of a fuss, to berate the estranged neighbour for being as bold as to put his hand on you, carting you around like one of his cattle. It seemed, though, that he was more interested in maintaining a degree of decorum, keeping the peace, for a reason you could not fathom but were nonetheless grateful for. 

“Fence is on your property, John. S’your problem if she fits through the gaps.”  

“You need to keep a handle on her,” John snarled, thick with derision, fuse running short. He released your neck with a slight shove, then, and you vindictively rolled your shoulder away from his lingering touch.  

Miles snorted. “Looks like y’got a better handle on her than I ever will.”  

Had enough, you stormed away from the condescending rancher, marching with your arms crossed towards the steps.  

“Y’know what happens if I catch you back on my property, don’t you, girl?” John barked after you, a growl in his throat. 

Shoving past your bewildered brother as you trudged up the creaking stairs, you rolled your eyes. Concealed the coy smirk that curled in the corner of your lips, you answered with a grouse;  

“Trouble.”  

-----

John wiped an open hand down his face as he sped along the dirt drive, white-knuckled and stiff. 

The road was clear and bright ahead of him, glowing by virtue of the blinding sun, and yet he could not focus on it. His vision blurred by the image of you standing winsomely among the wildflowers. He was distracted by the sight of the harsh sunlight unveiling you, the thin cotton of your dress failing to conceal the shadows of your soft nipples, blissfully unaware they were revealed to him so vividly. 

His palm still stung red and hot, tingled under his skin like needle pricks in the aftermath of his ruthless discipline. He knew he should feel guilty. That he should be chastising himself for assaulting you, for unleashing his long-caged fury in an eruption of rapacious torment. 

But he didn’t. He felt not an ounce of shame. 

Instead, he felt angry. Angry at the knot that was tight and wrenching in his stomach, at the heat that flared in the back of his neck. Angry that he could still smell you in the cab of his car, your berry-scented shampoo and the animal musk of your frightened sweat, drawn out by the chase. 

Angry that he fell for your bait, that he gave you the satisfaction of retaliation for your insolent behaviour. 

Christ, some satisfaction he gave you. 

Despite all valiant effort he could not dispel the picture of your tiny, frilly knickers. Worn under your sheer frock, so visible in the sunlight, as if to purposefully entice him upon their reveal. The delicate fabric turned so dark where it was sodden, it demanded his attention even if he attempted to ignore it. His compulsion to touch between your legs was undriven, and he could not resist it - he had to check, to know for certain, that such an abasement had filled your cunt with eager nectar, so much of it. That your body responded to its punishment as praise, to its degradation as pleasure. 

Such knowledge ridded him of any guilt, even if it should have done the opposite. But it did little to temper his indignation. Now, he understands what drives you. The fuel for your delinquency. 

Is it a lack of attention, sweetheart? Do you yearn for somebody to notice your misdeeds? For someone to care to penalise you?

Are you so bored, so neglected, that your cunt drives you to self-sabotage? 

He should have guessed it from your persistence, from the frequency of your unwanted visits and the habitual nature of your crimes. From your coy little smiles, the way you’d flutter your pretty eyes at him whenever he scolded you. 

He knew then, conclusively, that in order to deter you, he mustn’t embolden you. Mustn’t satisfy you with his anger or his reprimand, mustn’t indulge your kittenish efforts to provoke him. 

But he heard still your cloying cries ringing loud in his ears, the yelps he forced from your little throat each time he struck the soft, supple flesh of your rear. Still saw the way your skin rippled with the impact, the way your fine hairs stood on end after each lashing. The pretty purple marbling that formed in his handprint, swollen and red. The way your loose hair spread over your shoulders, knotting and picking up bits of straw from where you had landed. The way your toes curled when his touching shifted from punishment to exploration, when his fingertip felt the lips of your soaking pussy through the painfully thin cotton of your panties. 

Fuck. 

It would be far easier said than done. 

Would you get that wet, so wet, if he simply yelled at you? If he chased you once again off his property? If he berated you for helping yourself to his fruits? 

He glanced over his shoulder to where you had sat cross-armed and sulking, where your bare thighs had pressed against the leather of his truck seat. Wondered if your juices might have soaked through your knickers on the drive over, worsened by the bouncing of the truck trundling over raw dirt and loose stones. 

Instead, he was met with a little white handkerchief. Soft woven fabric, and as he tried to peel his eyes from the road to inspect it closer, he saw it was dotted with small and dainty flowers, pink and green. 

He recognised them, in a heartbeat; pulled his truck to a screeching halt and pulled up onto the grassy shoulder, next to the poplar windbreak that lined his fence. He reached over to snatch up the little white bundle, eyes squinting in disbelief as he felt the gentle fabric between his fingers, still warm from where it had been tight against your skin.

Unfurled them in his hands, and the air escaped his lungs in a jagged breath. 

“Fuck’s sake,” he growled hoarsely to himself, and he felt his scruples boil away, dissolving into steam.

Your panties. Left for him in the passenger seat like some salacious memento, a token to remind him of his depravity. Were you mocking him with them? 

He unconsciously rubbed the fabric in his fingers, finding the spot that sat flush with your cunt; still wet, cold in his hands, glistening with your syrup. He let out a defeated huff as he balled up the knickers in a tight fist, now powerless to the urge; raised your favour to his face and buried his nose in the bunched up fabric. 

The elasticated cotton was warm and soft on his skin, and he breathed in your scent deep and slow. It filled his chest and sinuses like smoke; your aroma was subtle, delectable, something utterly primal. The smell of sex and balsam, it made him grunt into the muffling fabric, made his thumping blood flood into his cock like the breaking of a damn.  

Might you taste as good as you smell, sweetheart? 

He scented you and his mouth watered like it was your cunt he was buried in, like the folds of the soft cotton brushing his skin were the petals of your pussy, and he wanted nothing more than to taste you. He grinded his palm against his length; rigid, twitching, straining in his trousers - tranced, he ripped at his button fly, shoving a hungry hand into his chequered boxers and taking his thick cock in a fist. 

His grip of his shaft was tight and hasty, he ran his fist up and down the length of it, rolling his foreskin over the sensitive head; to bring himself some reprieve, he told himself, to alleviate the ravening fury that pervaded him since you arrived at his doorstep. 

But the raucous thunder of an incoming truck knocked him quickly out of his delusion, and he swore at himself. Slammed the steering wheel with an exasperated palm. He resentfully tucked his throbbing cock back into his boxers, did up each of the labouring buttons of his fly, and adjusted himself in his seat as if he could ever find comfort. He stomped a frustrated boot into the accelerator and veered back onto the dirt road, faster than necessary, homeward bound once again. 

He stuffed your panties into his pocket, and rubbed his jaw with a rigid hand. Gritted his teeth for the entirety of the short drive home. 

Get a fucking grip.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Academia

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, smut, fingering, edging, oral, p in v,

You guys have been in the same program for a year now. Being who he was and having the skills, family, and privilege he had, Damian was used to getting what he wanted. He could tell you wanted him too. There were the obvious signs like the pink blush under your glasses coloring your cheeks whenever he'd challenge a point you raised during your physics lecture. Then there were some hidden signs like the way your breathing would pick up whenever he made his presence known. To any clueless passerby wouldn't think twice of it, but for someone like him who'd trained in the art of detective work - you were practically panting.

Every day, you came into your lab dressed pristine like you were in some prep school. Today, you wore a white button-up tucked into a plaid skirt, dark leggings, and some leather shoes that looked like they belonged on a doll. Damian grinded his teeth, grasping at his bicep as he watched you make your way to your seat, ignoring something his friend, Felix, was saying about their previous night's escapades. So prim and proper. Always. He wanted to tear that skirt off you. He wanted to untie the bow, holding your hair in a ponytail. He'd let you keep your glasses, thinking they made you look so, so cute. He wanted to see how much cuter you would be disheveled and writhing under him.

"Are you boys coming to tonight's kegger?" A feminine voice spoke up, and his view of you was disrupted by a pair of women taking their seat at the table in front of Damian and Felix.

"Kappa is hosting!" One of the girls, Joanna excitedly spoke. "It's gonna be fun! Damian?"

"Hmm?" Damian raised a brow distractedly before remembering what was just said at him. "Oh, sure. I might need to leave early, but I'll drop by."

The second girl, Marcy, tisked, pursing her lips in mock dissappointnent. "You always leave the parties early! I swear to God you're like the only college freshmen I know who's bedtime is at 10 pm!"

Sure, he was fine with them thinking that. Most nights, Damian went off to patrol gotham with his brothers and father. Sometimes, he went to meet with his mother and granfather. But he still wanted the campus experience. He still made an effort to show up.

"Yeah, Wayne tech isn't going to run itself when Daddy retires." Felix jabs, leaning back and giving Damian a cocky sideways glance.

Damian turns to him, unbothers and winks. "You know it won't."

Joanna and Marcy both flush red in their cheeks. Damian presumes it has something to do with the reminder of his bloodline and power, which Felix just provided, in an attempt to put him down. From his peripheral vision he can see Felix's shoulders slump as the man realized he fumbled his goal. It's okay, tiger, there's always next time.

"Is y/n going?"

Marcy tilts her head. "Who?"

Damian nods towards you, sitting a couple rows below them and reviewing your notes. From where he sat, he could see your writing was organized but not neat at all. You were in the wrong major.

The girls follow his gaze to you and share a look.

"We didn't ask everyone yet." Marcy nudges Joanna, who goes down to talk to you.

Damian watches as you look up from your notes as Joanna talks to you, nodding along with what she's saying before politely smiling and shaking your head before turning back to your notes. Joanna nodded and walked back up to rejoin the group. She opened her mouth to speak, Damian was eager to hear the excuse you offered, but at that moment, your professor walked into the lecture hall.

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"Y/n,"

You turned away from your phone and towards the source of the masculine voice that's just spoken to you. A tall, broad shouldered freshmen who you came to know by now strutted out of your lecture hall, hand clutching the strap of his bag while the other was in his jean pocket.

Damian wayne had caught your eye fairly easily - as you're sure he did with everyone else. For starters, he was the only man in your engineering major who didn't come to class everyday in sweatpants.

You detested the inequality you saw each day, where girls put an effort to dress nice, no matter how they felt and guys just gave up. We were representing the future of our country, you once thought while cringing at your freshmen year gathering, if we cant even dress ourselves well, how are we supposed to inherit our responsibilities well.

Damian was a breath of fresh air. He typically wore some variation of neat button ups or golf tees tucked into his jeans, and the sleeves usually rolled up, emphasizing muscular, tattooed forearms The top button was typically undone, showcasing his necklace, the symbol of which you were unsuccessful in spotting, above a hard muscle chest. Sometimes, he wore his signature leather jacket, creating an image that had popped up more than once in your head before falling asleep. He also smelled like some sage.

Today, Damian went the casual route with a Gotham University hoodie and jeans falling into classic black Converse. He exceled at his rugged look. Facial features sharp as usual, with angular eyebrows that often give him a serious, brooding expression, like his father often held in conferences. Black hair swept slightly forward. His green eyes were always striking. They mesmerized you when you first met him, and they mesmerized you still.

"Damian, hi." You said, gathering your textbooks in your arms. "How are you?"

"I heard you're not coming to today's kegger at Kappa." He didn't answer your question.

"No, I can't tonight." Or any other night, until I graduate, you wanted to add.

"I haven't been seeing you much around lately," he raised a sharp brow.

You grasped your textbook against your chest, chuckling nervously. "Yeah, I went and got myself the idea of doing a double major. And now since we're sophomores, I have a whole year to catch up on. So I spend most of my free time studying."

"What's the other major?"

"Math. Statistics and probability." You said, then opened your mouth to tell him you'll see him around.

"How come?" He beat you to it. Students and faculty were making their way past you in the hall, and you made sure to get out of their way. Damian hadn't moved an inch.

"Uhm, it's kind of a long story."

In truth, interning at Wayne Tech for the summer has been eye-opening. You loved getting to work with the engineers developing weapons and defense systems, but you also found yourself constantly curious about the work the data analysts did. It didn't take long to realize you found their skills and knowledge in predicting contingencies to every possible outcome really cool and wanting some of it for yourself. The next week, you went to your academic advisor and asked how you could do a double major.

"Come to the party tonight." He ordered. "We'll have plenty of time."

"I..." you rushed to refuse but his gaze wasn't leaving room for argument.

"Come to the party. And tell me what possibly inspired you to take up maths and physics simultaneously." He took a step closer to you, crowding your space. You swallowed nervously, looking around to see if anyone was watching you. He gazed down at you.

You nodded, swallowing nervously, then something caught your eye. There was a bandage on his neck, just below his ear. "What happened to your neck?"

"I'll see you tonight." He brushed past you and kept walking to his next class.

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Damian dropped his gym bag in the trunk of his Camaro and slamed it shut before making his way up the busy street on frat row. It was still early in the night, but Kappa's party was already in full swing. People were out on the lawn, on the porch, and the muffled music from inside the house could be heard down the street.

Someone offered Damian a drink, which he politely waved off as his keen eyes searched the first floor for a particular person. It didn't take long, surely enough he zeroed in on you, standing with your drink awkwardly linking hands with a girl he remembered to be your roommate, Alice. You exchanged your sweater and skirt for a t-shirt over a maroon colord silk dress. You let your hairdown, styled in perfect curls, one side pinned up by a maroon pin. Ever the color coordinating type, Damian snorted.

"You came," he approached you slowly.

You offered him a timid smile. "To be honest, you intimidated me into thinking I had to."

He raised a brow, pursing his lips. "Good."

He then turned to your roommate, tilting his head towards you. "Mind if I take her for a moment?"

Beside you, Alice gave you both a knowing look. "Take her for longer than that." Before gently unlinking your hands and walking off somewhere.

Damian tilted his head towards the window behind you. "It's nice out, wanna go for a drive?"

You followed his gaze to a black, shiny Camaro parked out front, and you felt your face flush. Did you just get offered a ride in Damian Wayne's muscle car?

"Umm, I wasn't planning on staying long -" you began.

"Just long enough to tell me why you changed your major."

"I didn't change it, I'm doing an additional -"

"Tell me in the car," he says and takes you by the hand, leading you to some cheers and hollers from your classmates and fellow program students. Some are patting Damian on the back, others are catcalling the two of you for being the "fist fuck of the night". You're in disbelief that even in college, people behave like they're in high-school. Damian mostly ignores them. You avoid eye contact as much as you can.

When you two are seated and on the road, you're still as tense as always. You turned to look at him in the drivers seat. Always so at ease, with one hand on the wheel, the other resting between your seats, ringed fingers tracing a pattern on the skirt of your dress.

"Where are we going?" You ask.

He doesn't meet your eyes, watching the highway intently. "My place."

"Oh, umm." Your heart picks up and you feel a tingle between your legs and especially on that spot where his finger is fidgeting. "I'm - Damian I think you're really nice. Definitely attractive," you babble nervously.

"Thank you."

"And what's more is you're smart, and that ticks off a lot of boxes." You continue.

"Does it?"

"And from a well off family."

"Very much."

You go on, unable to stop yourself. "I mean, I'm so flattered. I could do so much worse."

"So much worse." He supplies.

"But I'm just in a state in my life where I'm not really looking for a relationship." You scratch behind your ear. "Which is true, I'm not just saying it to you, I said the same to another guy who asked me out last week."

"Who asked you out last week?"

You saw his hand tense around the wheel, and your eyes widened. "No one! It doesn't matter since I'm not really dating right now."

"Who said anything about dating?" He asked.

You blinked at him. "Huh?"

"Sweetheart," he turns to face you, the speedometer showing the speed excelerating as you two merge onto the highway. "I'm not interested in dating you either."

"Damian, watch the road, please." Your hand shoots to the handle bard as your breathing speeds up. "A- and then why are we going to yours?"

You turn away from the highway and back to face him only to see the smirk he's giving you. "What?"

"Why do you think?"

You turn away, unable to hold his heated gaze. "Well..."

"Y/n, I want you. And I know you want me. In order for us to move on happily with our lives, we need to get each other out of our systems. Capiche?"

Not expecting such blunt honesty, even though your should be used to it by now, whitnessing it in your joint lecture halls for three semesters now. Your gaze travels down to where his hand is now holding your thigh. Your skin is so warm there. "I... yes. Capiche, I mean."

He grins, turning back to the road. "Good."

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Damian's building was in the upper side of Gotham, where most of the upper class resided. His elevator led straight into the penthouse suite. You followed him into the big room, taking tentative steps and looking around. Like his wardrobe, his apartment was clean and crisp. Every item was organized or folded in its dedicated spot.

"You have a nice place."

"Nicer than the Gotham U dorm room?" He asked from the kitchen, making you snort, covering your mouth.

"You want something to drink?" He asked from the kitchen island.

"No thanks, I'm good." You shook your head.

"Perfect." It took him three strides to reach you. He cupped your face in his hands, lowering to kiss you.

Surprised by his dedication not to wasting time, you were too overwhelmed to resist as he walked you back into a wall, all while his lips never leaving yours. His kisses ranged from playful bites of your lips to long licks against your tongue as he tilted his head to fit you against each other like two puzzle pieces.

One of his hands left its place on your cheek to travel down to your shoulder, lowering the strap of your dress and reaching in to lift the t-shirt under it, exposing your maroon colored bralette. Your hands slowly brought themselves to his hair as he moved the cup of your bralette aside, circling your exposed nipple with his finger. You let's out a breathy moan against his lips, and he drew back to assess the "damage."

There you stood, leaning against the wall, panting. Your parted pink lips were shiny with saliva, and your pupils were wide, gazing up at him with a glazed look. The left strap of your dress hung off your shoulder, the left side of your shirt lifted, and your cute breast was exposed, pretty nipple raised in excitement.

Damian felt a surge of extasy gazing at your mouth. "I wanted to mess up that lipstick all day."

Your knees buckled, and you were afraid you were going to fall, only to look down in surprise to see his knee had wedged itself between your thighs. "Why did you stop?"

"I just wanted to see what else I could mess up about your perfect look." He said before his hand traveled to your panties under your dress. "Are you wearing a matching set?"

"Yes," you panted.

Damian raised his brows. "For who?"

"For- ah!" You moaned as his finger found your clit, rubbing slow circles on it. "For me."

He lowered himself onto his knees in front of you and lifted your dress, then you heard a tear and realized he'd just ripped off your panties. You gasped. "Damian! They're expensive!"

"Oh no!" He whined, mimicking you. "Feel free to charge me for your troubles."

"That's not funny - oh!" You tilted your head back as he licked circles around your clit. "I won't forget this." You struggled to say.

"I wasn't kidding." He wispered against your pussy, licking eagerly. "I'll buy you a new pair."

You whimpered, your fingers tightening around his hair as he ate your pussy. "Fine,"

You arched your back, feeling the familiar tremors of orgasm start in your core. "Oh!"

Suddenly, he pulled away before you could reach your climax.

You tanned, looking down at him. "I was close! Why did you stop?"

He gave you a shit-eating grin and shrugged, those green eyes shining with mischief. "I wanted to see your reaction."

You didn't understand him. "Well, umm could you... please..."

"Please...?"

"...Make me come?"

He shrugged again, as if to say 'well see' before spreading your legs and diving in to lick your pussy again.

He eged you three more times. Each time, he stopped just as you were about to climax. You let out a frustrated whine, pouting. "Damian!"

"Y/n!"

"Why are you doing this?"

He stood up to wisper in your ear. "Because you like it."

He lifted you up with ease and carried you to his bedroom, laying you down on his massive bed. Your mind was swimming on oversensitivity and overstimulation that you'd barely registered him taking off his clothes and positioning himself at your entrance. Only when he was on top of you again did you have time to take in his glorious physique. Muscles upon muscles from his arms to his shoulders to his back and his abdomen. When he finally entered you, all of the edging you'd experienced until then made you nearly come simply from the first penetration.

You moaned, arching as your hands grasped against the black silk bedsheets.

Damian groaned above you, causing your ears to vibrate with the erotic sound. You gazed down at you. "You look perfect. Just like this."

You bit your lip, whispering. "Wait, please give me a moment."

"No." He began thrusting slowly.

"Damian, its too much-"

"You can take it. You excel in everything." He let out a sound which was a mix between a moan and a chuckle. "My little perfectionist."

You arched your back, feeling him fill you up. "I'm close again!"

"I know." He smirked, grinding in and out of you. "I know. You're so good, baby. Come for me again."

His hips increased their speed against you. The both of you moaning with each movement. Your nails clawed on his back as you felt him hit your g spot.

"Please, don't stop!" You begged.

"I won't," he panted. "Kiss me," he ordered.

You lifted yourself to meet his lips as he sped up, his finger back on your clit, making you whimper into his mouth, the two of you reaching your orgasm.

That was the last thing you remembered before falling asleep.

[brayneworms]

and teary faces know the craft | lyney

kinktober day one: lingerie

word count. 1.8k

content. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, lingerie, making out, both lyney + reader getting blueballed, allusions to jealousy + insecurity, somewhat established relationship, lyney is a bratttt, gender neutral reader

♪ death kink - fontaines d.c.

notes. call that lyngerie

kinktober 2024 m.list | regular m.list

He's a tease. 

You should more than likely stop being surprised by it; like the owl is wise and the bake-danuki is curious, it's simply in his nature. The coy flutter of a lash, the point of a toned leg, the briefest catching of his amethyst eyes on yours at something that could be construed as innuendo. A flash like the white spark of a kamera bulb, and then gone again, retreating into shadow like it was never there in the first place. 

Backstage smells like pine wood and wax. The stage squeaks with each turn of Lyney's boot upon the shining floor. In around an hour, the Opera Epiclese will be seething with audience members, packed in and huddled tight for the show. For now, it is only a palimpsest; the only people in the seats for now are you and Freminet, who maintains a shy distance a couple rows in front of you, fiddling with his little robotic penguin. You think he's started to grow used to your presence—and he's pretty sharp beneath the sandy bangs, his eyes snagging on little things others might gloss right over.

You suppose Lyney and Lynette are similar, though; beneath different veneers, all of Arlecchino's children are remiss to let any small detail slip by them. 

You suppose it's a mark of the Hearth, that inclination towards neuroticism. 

"And voila!" The twins' routine finishes with a swish of Lynette's skirt and Lyney's arms raised towards the domed ceiling. "What did you think?"

Freminet raises his head. "It was great," he mutters. "As always. The bit with the water tank is new, right?"

"It's merely a spruce-up of our old bit with the box," Lyney smiles. "But yes, essentially, it's new."

Freminet hums. "Well... be careful, is all. I liked it though."

Lyney beams. It's an inevitability that his gaze turns to you then, hunched a little further back. "And you, our dear guest? Do you concur?"

You raise your chin. "I think... it's your best work yet." 

The smile Lyney offers is beatific—and genuine, you know, only because your own praise is such. As someone who lives a life half behind a mask, Lyney has become well-tuned to the frequency of other people's lies; it's why, you often think, he's so enamoured with you. Because you don't lie to him. 

"Does that mean we can take a small break?" Lynette asks, fiddling with a glove. "I'd like a chance to refresh before the real show."

"Of course, of course. I would say we've more than earned it." As Lynette makes her way offstage, probably on the hunt for a teahouse, Freminet trails after her and Lyney catches your eye. You approach up the centre aisle that runs through the middle like a parting through a scalp, up to the edge of the stage. It’s so tall that it comes up to your chin, and Lyney extends a hand down to help you haul yourself up. It smells like rosewood and wax up here, settling pleasantly in your nose. Lyney watches you, eyes wide, earnest. He has such a sweet face, if you can learn to ignore the gleam in his eye. 

“Want to help me get ready?” he asks casually. You bite back the urge to raise a brow; he looks stage-perfect already, down to the outfit. He doesn’t need help with a damn thing.

All you say is, “Sure,” and he leads you happily through the maze of corridors backstage to his dressing room. He and Lynette have separate ones here, which is nice; neither of them particularly like sharing space. Lynette keeps her things organised, and Lyney… decidedly doesn’t. He’s not a messy person by metric, but he does tend to charge forward toward the goal without realising the trail he was leaving in his wake. 

The dressing room is modestly sized, draped in swaths of red and gold cloth that make it feel heady and hot and close. A sparkling mirror edged in something that glows lurid and blue-white, throwing your features into sharp relief; and a complimentary basket of local Fontainian specialities which you pick through with interest, coming up with foreign titian fruits and crystal bottles of fizzy alcohol.

“So…” Lyney hovers at your shoulder, watching you pick through the cellophane-wrapped morsels. “You really liked the show?”

“I did.” You put back some fancy chocolate thing and turn to face him; he doesn’t back off, watching with his hands twisting like snakes before him. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was nervous. “You’re really getting into it. Lynette’s working very hard.”

It’s a prod, a careful poke—and as you guessed, Lyney pouts. If he had ears like his sister, they’d probably be pinned back against his head right now. “Only Lynette?” 

 A slow grin spreads over your face like molasses. “Oh, I see. You’re fishing for something.”

“Ahaha… I don’t fish.” He crosses his arms over his chest, chin jutting petulantly. “But when you go out of your way not to compliment me, you can’t blame me for thinking the worst. Perhaps my loveliest guest of all is losing interest?”

“Perhaps,” you say mildly, then backtrack as soon as his expression falters. “Oh, come on. You know what I think of you. Must I say it every time.”

“You could stand to say it more.”

“I bought you that lovely gift only a few days ago.”

Lyney’s eyes flash; that gleam, like the side of a cut amethyst. “Oh, I remember,” he says coyly. “I’ve grown quite familiar with it, in fact.”

The notion makes heat flare in your gut. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm.” He pauses, smiles—catlike, just a hint of sharp teeth between the plush peach of his lip. “You might say I’m familiar with it right this second, actually.”

You blink. Your mouth is as dry as the Great Red Sand. “Are you trying to tell me—”

Tease. It’s in the way Lyney’s face slips into an innocent little smile as he hooks a finger over the cuffed edge of his shorts and yanks it up enough to expose a glimpse of rouge lace. Unable to stop yourself, your hand flies out, keeping it there. You stare from it to him. 

“Are you serious?” you whisper. 

Lyney giggles. “I take this to mean you’re not losing interest, then?”

“I’ll kill you.” You sound too hoarse. “Show me.”

Lyney casts a slow, obvious look at the ornate clock hung open the wall. “Y’know, I’m just not entirely sure we have time right now, dearest.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” you mutter, fingers hooking onto his stupid bodysuit and fumbling at the buttons. You can feel his stomach flex with silent laughter at your obvious eagerness; usually you’d be trying to reign it in—the last thing a tease like him needs is more fire to stoke the fuel of his ego—but sue you. He knows what buttons to press. He has way too much power in his sleek gloved hand. 

You get a handle on the suit and yank it down with difficulty to his knees. What you’d seen a glimpse of were two thin silky garters, encircling the plush of his pale thighs, just about hidden by the hem of his shorts. One wrong move and they’d slip out from under the black leather, glaringly visible to everyone. The idea makes you feverish with anger and also so turned on you can barely see straight. 

The garters clip onto dusky pink underwear, arching gracefully over his pubic bone to encircle the triangle of his waist. When you lift a trembling hand to lift his shirt, you see a matching bralette, satiny cups tight against the soft swells of his pectorals. You can see straight through the gauzy fabric, coffee-coloured nipples pebbled under your attention. 

“I hate you,” is the first thing that come out of your mouth. The sight of him in this sparkling pink-red set makes you want to do unspeakable things. You want to ruin that fabric forever and buy him a new one. A dozen new ones in hundreds of different shades, ruin them systematically, rinse, repeat. 

He laughs again, but even his facade has its limits; he sounds slightly breathless, and you can see the faint pink blush on his cheeks starting to crawl down his chest. His collarbones gleam like cut diamonds, archons you wish you could bite them. “I take it you approve?”

Your answer is as animalistic as you feel, the rough crush of your lips over his. You’re rewarded with a muffled mmphf?! as your weight pushes the both of you back against the table, sending the cute basket of edible arrangements sprawling in a mosaic upon the floor. You muscle your way between Lyney’s legs, the press of his stiffening cock so close through only the wisp of organza, hot and insistent as a brand mark. Your hand tangles in his hair, dragging him impossibly closer as your lips duck to press against his butter-soft skin, his jaw, his neck—

“N-no marks!” he gasps, even as he presses his hips against yours with a moan. “Dearest, lovely, mon chérie, please—”

“You’re so pathetic,” you whisper into his neck, feel the buzz of your words sink into the soft skin of his throat. Lyney shudders and whines his protest. “No time, remember? Whose fault is that?”

“I just wanted—you to look at me,” he grits out, legs locked around your waist. It occurs to you that his fears of you losing interest are likely to be grounded in reality, dressed up with a lilting voice and wave of a hand. Your heart twitches. 

“I’m always looking at you, stupid.” 

Lyney’s cheeks darken, brows coming together as a sort of glaze slides over his eyes. This look you’re familiar with; it makes your breath hitch. He leans forwards, lips parted—

Three sharp knocks at the door. “We’re on in fifteen minutes, brother.”

Lyney’s whole body scrunches up, a cold disappointment stealing over his face. He looks to you desperately, but you can only shrug. “Answer your sister.”

He droops like a wilting flower. “I… I’ll be right out, Lynette.”

There’s a pause, a deeply disappointed sigh, and you hear her heels clicking neatly back down the corridor. Lyney scrubs a hand down his face and awkwardly gets down from the desk, fumbling to right his clothes. His whole body shivers as he does his bodysuit back up, having to readjust it several times in wake of his hardness. He looks down unhappily at the result.

As he goes to leave, he pauses, hand on the doorknob. “You’ll stay for the show?”

You see the question for what it is, and smile. “Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll wait for you after, too.”

Lyney tucks his head away, but you fancy you can see his giddy smile anyways. “I’ll try not to make you wait too long,” he murmurs; one hand reaches down, adjusts the cuff of his shorts just so you get the briefest flash of red-pink. And then he’s gone, out the door and down the corridor to the stage.

You lean against the table, heave a sigh. Start picking up the spilled complimentaries from the basket. You have a feeling, later tonight, that you’re both going to need the sustenance. 

[hearts4chriss]

Princess.

bad boy! Chris x nerd! Poc reader

prompt: Chris notices you, just a regular girl, pretty nerd, focused on her studies and nothing else, Chris has this attraction to you, his goal is to get ur attention and absolutely destroy you and ur innocence all together, a school project just might be his trick

inspired by: @luv4kozume my mama and talented queen go read her shit now

Part 7

warnings: reader is on BC!! overstimulation, rough sex ( p in v ), degrading, hair pulling, use of pet names ( good girl, sweetheart, baby ), ass slapping, teasing, manipulation ??, aftercare tho!!

“Fucking hell” I say to myself, I had a project with the nerd. Now ur probably like “Chris she’s just a nerd come on” She’s not ur regular nerd, she’s just innocent as shit, never had sex, never received head or pleasure from anyone focussed on her studies but I’ve heard her talk to her friends, she’s got a dirty mouth one i'd love to put to good use.

the second we got assigned partners for a chemistry project a smirk curved across my lips. I see her turn back to me and give me an innocent welcoming smile. fuck that was enough to make cum in my pants. the way her clear glasses sit on her cute little nose, her plump lips with a layer of gloss on them. and damn that uniform on her.

the way her skirt rides up when she sits down allowing me to get a good look at her ass, I see her light purple panties from here just a bit. Nobody else was looking at her, more focused on the basic ass bitches whose asses were purposely exposed. whores.

Fuck I couldn't take my eyes off her, the way she pulled her skirt down in the back, she could bare the fact the school's skirts were so short her ass was poking out. Her stockings climb up her thighs and her dress shoes dangle off her feet, the blazer fits perfectly around her skirt, and the white button-up shirt school rules top two buttons for all girls must be undone, Fuck- her tits sat so perfectly in it,

And then shit don't get me started on the tie. I've always pictured me putting mine around her pulling it as I fucked her. She was so damn innocent, the way she'd look back every now and then to see me because we were partners and give me that same smile innocent smile, as I was thinking about ruining her pussy. The only thing stopping me was the fact we were in class, but shit- I swear when I have her alone I was gonna fuck her so good, ruin her innocence entirely.

Eventually class was over and so was school, which meant It was about to just us.

Your Pov now

I got up from my seat and made my way out of class to wait for chris, I readjust my glasses and apply some more lip gloss.

The boy walks out and I give him a small smile and he gives me a smirk looking down at me and biting his lip, I just shrug it off and he opens his car door for me and we start driving back to his house

"Are you excited about our project Chris?" I asked him softly trying to kill the silence

Fuck her voice, it was so soft and sweet. just imaging her moaning was even better, I let out a soft groan feeling my dick press against my pants before I respond to her.

“Oh yeah for sure I cant wait.” to fuck ur brains out till you can't take it anymore.

We arrived at his house and we walked inside and his parents weren't home so he offered to work in his room and I nodded and we walked. upstairs into it and sat on his bed.

I smiled and took my computer out and laid on my stomach and began to start a slide show.

Fuck- does she know what she's doing? I felt my dick get even harder a small wet spot appearing on my pants.

I sat and watched this hot nerd on my bed and realized.

We were not gonna get anything done tonight.

I began to un do my belt and slip my pants and boxers down, I tossed my blazer on the floor and my shirt and tie approaching her.

I slowly lifted up her skirt and pull her light purple panties down staring at her bare ass, she had no idea. Fuck the surprise she was in for.

I press my dick against her sliding into her as she let out a moan fuck she was so tight.

“Chris- wh- o-oh god”- she moaned, it rang in my ears.

“is this okay?” I asked, I wanted to make sure she was okay with what I was about to do to her.

“mmph- y-yes- she stutters” I could hear her struggling it was pretty cute.

I took her skirt off and blazer allowing me to grip her hips and thrust in her quickly, her moans growing louder as I moved her computer to my nightstand.

“Ur pussy's so tight baby fuck-“ I groan as her wetness coated my dick allowing me to start pounding into her, her moans got louder as she moans my name and fuck did it turn me.

“Fuck c'mere-“I say impatiently arching her back and pushing her face into the pillow before pounding into her again.

“C-chris o-oh god-“ she cries out gripping my sheets as I saw her glasses fogging up from her heavy breathing, I knew this was probably a lot for her but I was dying to fuck her.

My hips snapping with hers sounded euphoric as she cried out my name, I did what she least expected.

I pulled her hair and thrusted into her harshly my hips snapped harshly on her ass and she squealed at the sudden roughness.

“Oh God- I-chris-“ She cries out and I decide to opt for slower and deep thrusts knocking the wind out of her lunges.

“Not so innocent now are you sweetheart.” I said with a smirk getting impatient at the pace so I shoved her face into the pillow starting to pound in her again the moans and heavy breathing of this innocent girl grew louder again.

“Shit shit shit-“ curses leave her mouth and I chuckle darkly

“hm, you've got a dirty mouth, don't you?” I whisper into her ear and she moans in response, she sounds so beautiful like this.

she fits so snug around me. I felt her squeeze tightly around my dick and I groan in response at how quickly I was about to make her cum and me as well as I twitch inside her.

“You on the pill baby?” I asked her and she nodded and I pull her hair roughly

“Use ur words princess.” I say still pounding into her.

“I-I-am- f-fuck-“ she stutters out and moans my lips curling into a playful smile.

“Good girl, you can cum now.l I say as I harshly snap my hips feeling her cum on my cock and I release inside of her.

I pulled out watching our cum drip out of her pussy thats when I realized, I was nowhere near finished with her.

“On ur stomach for me?” i asked her and she immediately complied.

I unbottoned her shirt leaving her tie on seeing her fully naked wearing just a tie makes my dick perk up again.

I slap my tip on her folds and she whimpered.

I spread her legs pushing them against her chest and slip inside her easily and she cries out at me pounding into her with force rocking her small body on the bed.

watched her stomach seeing my bulge and I chuckled seeing her eyes squeeze shut and her glasses start slipping from her face.

“Ugh F-fuck- my glasses-“ she cries out as they started falling off onto her body from how hard I was fucking her.

“fuck- push em up for me yeah?” I sighed deeply and she reached a shaken hand pushing the frames back on her face.

She looks so hot like this, all fucked out on my bed for me and she has no idea this was only the beginning

“C-Chris ngh- I-c-can’t-“ she stutters as I watch the tears form in her eyes from the overwhelming pleasure I was giving her, the way her tits were pressed up against her body as I held her legs up easily slipping in and out of her wet pussy.

“come on baby, your taking me so well- shit-“ I grunted angling my hips to come in contact with hers more quickly and harshly and hearing her whimpers was so fucking hot.

I attach my thumb to her clit rubbing it in circles and she squealed at the sudden contact from her sensitivity.

“Shit Chris- I-t-the project!” She screams out my name and I smirk at her innocence, I had never thought about the damn project.

“oh princess you really think that’s what I care about?” I say snapping my hips with hers once more pounding her pretty pussy and she curses my name.

“I’ve only been thinking about fucking that pretty ass of yours for days, shit you and that skirt-“ I chuckle drawing figure 8s on her swollen clit and her thighs tremble in my hands.

“Fuck- mphm oh g-god-“ she cries out, her body trembling in my hands her body covered in a thin layer of sweat, her cute classes now discarded.

“Hm? What was that sweetheart?” I smirk pulling her tie making her gulp and her eyes widen as I pull it and thrust into her roughly, the sounds of my hips and her thighs slapping fuck- I could’ve cum right there.

“CHRIS- p-please-“ she stutters gripping the sheets and my finger tips needing her plush thighs as she begs for an orgasm.

“You need to cum?” I say leaning over in her ear.

“Y-yes god-“ she whimpers arching her back.

I decided I would let her cum under one condition.

“princess I’m the only one who’s aloud to fuck you from now on got it?” I say placing my tongue around her nipple sucking softly and she groans.

“Y-yes I-i got it-“ she cries out and I rocked her body harder rubbing her clit and she tightens around me before beginning to squirt, she didn’t stop.

“Fuck you just squirted all over me-“ I chuckle slowing my thrusts.

“Mmph- I’m sorry- I-“ she stutters and I shake my head and chuckle.

“It’s okay honey I’ll take care of you”. I smile and pull out of her smirking seeing proudly at the mess I made of this girl, her thighs shake a bit, our cum dripping out of her and the wet patch on my sheets from her squirting just now. Her face a little teary and fuck she looked so hot all fucked out for me.

I picked up her body and ran her a bath and sat her on the counter for a second

“Spread ur legs for me mama.” I ask her calmly and she does so and I take a warm cloth and rub slowly between her legs and she winces.

“S-sensitive”- she whimpers and I stop and place her in the warm water

“Sorry.” I smile putting her braids in a bun and she sighs in the water.

“thank you for taking care me-“ she sighs smiling at me innocently.

the rest of the night consists of me making sure she was okay

Oh and the project? She, yes ms nerdy herself, asked for an extension

tag list !

@mattsleftnipple03 @bernardsleftbootycheek @sturniolopowers @gdsvhtwa @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @alexoslurr @worldlxvlys @chrisslut25 @princessbetsy123-blog @mattslolita @guccifrog @blahbel668 @mattsneezing @trickywritters @hearts4chris

@nonamegirlxsturniolo @luvmxtt @theyluv-meee @mattsnymphette @hoesformatt @luv4kozume @iiheartstef @kikisturnioloo @itzdarling @pepsiimaxx @babyddolly @junnniiieee07 @st7rnioioss

[strwberri-milk]

Hello!!! Hope you’re having a good day/night!

May I be so bold as to request a Diluc, Wanderer, and Neuvillette with a crush who is scared of marriage as a result of parental trauma. 🙃✨

How do you think they’d react?

you mean me - also dilucs is really long bc tbh i think hes the only one who might have a stronger opinion than the others lol

Diluc has never had an active model of what a happy marriage is but he knows his parents did have a happy marriage. His father spoke of his mother's memory fondly, his grief never weighing down the affection he had for his son. Diluc knows what love looks like from the love his father gave him, and the way his father honoured his mother's memory.

He definitely has always wanted to marry you since he fell in love with you, occasionally allowing himself to imagine what your wedding would look like. He talks to you about these ideas of his once in a while so you're aware that marriage is most definitely a goal of his. You try not to shoot his dreams down right away, nodding around and offering your opinions as well.

However, he does figure out that something's off and he asks you what's on your mind. You hesitate to tell him about your reservations, worried that you'd ruin his ideal future with you and that he'd leave you. It takes a lot of him reassuring you that things will be okay and he's just trying to understand you better.

When you tell him that you're not sure about marriage right now because of your family he apologises for making you uncomfortable. He reassures you that marriage doesn't need to happen right away - even if the two of you just entered a sort of common law relationship where you allowed him to call you his spouse without it being legal on paper that would make him just as happy. He offers that as a compromise - it allows you guys to do things as though you're married but you aren't legally bound to each other which allows you to leave easier than if the two of you are married.

He tells you you don't need to make a decision right away but it's something that could work out for the two of you. He really hopes that it's something you're okay with, willing not to be legally married to you if it means the two of you are socially married for the most part. He would never want to hold you hostage but if the two of you are going to spend the rest of your lives together it'd be nice to introduce you as his spouse when you're comfortable with it, regardless of your legal status.

Wanderer doesn't really care. He understands that marriage is a big deal to humans but as someone who's not really human and spends most of his time alone he doesn't fully understand the need for some people to be married. To him, as long as the two of you are devoted to each other and stay committed that's all that matters.

He'll listen to your concerns, brought about when you randomly asked him how he feels about marriage. You weren't sure what he'd say in response, knowing that he's got a pretty flippant attitude toward a lot of human experiences if he doesn't understand them. He just told you it's not something he cares much for but if you want to get married then he'd revisit it closer to when you actually want to have a wedding.

Neuvillete was under the assumption that you would want to get married. It's seen as the min goal for human relationships after all and he wants to give you the world. He'll ask you about it one day if you don't mention it after a while, other people around him asking when the two of you are going to get married.

You skirt around the topic for a bit, not sure how to tell him that you don't want to be married. You don't want him to think that it's anything he's done, elaborating to him as he listens to you paitiently. He understands that if that's how you feel then that's okay - he wants to be with you and human marriage not being on your horizon isn't going to be a deal breaker to him.

He might ask if you want to partake in any mating rituals that dragons have instead. They're not going to weigh as much on him since he hasn't exactly been spending too much time with other dragons as of late. It's just something that he thinks could be nice to do, and another way for the two of you to show commitment to each other.

[oikasugayama]

Could I ask for chuuya and dazai (separately) x fem reader where the reader wears a low skirt at work and bends down to get something and how the guys would react? Nsfw ofc

I only did Dazai because I got really carried away, oops. Have 2.3k of unedited, filthy dazai + coworker!reader smut. MDNI!!

You’ve wanted Dazai for quite a while. He’s so hot, and he’s silly, and sometimes he can be really nice and suave. The fact that his eyes linger on you heavily every time you wear a short skirt or a low-cut blouse only make you want him more because it sure seems like he might be interested in you too. You don’t talk to him a lot unfortunately given that he’s not in the office every day, and you’re Kunikida’s secretary, but sometimes he does linger by your desk and chat with you (until Kunikida runs him off), or when the whole office goes out for lunch he’ll sit at your table with you, Naomi, and Junichiro. Once when you were sitting across from each other you even swore that he had to have known that his leg was against yours, forcing your legs slightly wider apart as he slid his further and further toward the outside of the booth. Any time you looked at him while he did this, he would just quirk the corner of his lip up in a smile and turn back to the conversation. There was sexual tension between the two of you, there had to be.

One day you’d had enough of being the shocked one, you wanted to be bold to see if you could get him to break and finally invite you back to his place after work. You put on a button-up blouse that “accidentally” lost its top two buttons, your shortest skirt, a red silk thong that was definitely part of a lingerie set, and you made sure to put on some extra perfume so he’d smell it any time you got near him. Now you just needed the opportunity to get his attention. 

He was late to the office, as always. He casually walked in, hands in his pockets, a smirk on his face as usual 45 minutes after he was supposed to be there. You say nothing to him, as usual, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention. Kunikida already gave you an uncomfortable glance-over this morning and offered to sew your buttons back on if you still had them--you couldn’t risk him looking at you and seeing the sultry look in your eye when you greeted Dazai.

He saw you, though. Dazai. His eyes locked onto yours as he took his jacket off and slung it over the back of his chair. He very obviously trailed his eyes down to your chest, and you sat up straighter and tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, watching him watch you. You weren’t backing down, and he noticed.

Maybe that’s why he declined the offer to go to lunch with the group later that afternoon. You also declined, telling a little while lie to Kunikida that you had plans with friends at a different restaurant, so you’d be leaving in a few minutes to go your own way. Kunikida is sharp, but Dazai is sneaky, and you’d never mentioned to your boss how Dazai’s eyes defile you every time you show a bit of skin. If he’d known, he wouldn’t have ever left you two alone in the office. 

A couple of minutes after everyone was gone, you got up and crossed the room to Dazai’s desk pod under the guise of putting something on Atsushi’s nearby desk. As you approached, Dazai “accidentally” swiped a pencil off the edge of his desk right into your path.

“Oops,” he said lowly. You glance at him over your shoulder and give him a half smile.

“I got it.” Normally you’d squat or crouch down to prevent anyone from seeing your butt, but that’s not the goal today. You have an objective.

You slowly bend over at the waist, reaching for the pencil with your fingertips. You can tell the exact second your panties become visible, because Dazai hisses and leans back in his chair.

“Fuck,” he sighs. Before you’ve even stood back up, his hand is on your ass, pushing the curve of it up from the bottom to make it jiggle.

“Dazai-san,” you say sweetly as you fully stand and turn toward him. You hold the pencil out toward him and he grabs it quickly, throwing it onto the desk. His hands are on your hips then, pulling your skirt up so he can feel your soft, supple skin.

“Tell me you want me,” he demands, stilling his hands but holding you in place.

“You first,” you say, reaching out to trace your fingertips along his jaw. There’s a look in his eye you’ve never seen before. A type of hunger you’ve only dreamed about him having for you.

“I’ll fuck you on this desk right now,” he swears in that low, calm voice. It makes you wet just to hear him say such a lewd thing to you.

“You can cum inside,” you coo, and that’s what does it. He stands so suddenly that his chair is knocked backwards with a loud crashing noise. His lips are on yours, kissing you hard and fast and desperate. His hands grope your ass, squeezing and massaging and using the leverage to force you against his body, to feel his hard-on though his pants.

You waste no time fumbling with the bottom of his shirt, pulling it loose from his pants. You unbuckle his belt, unzip his fly, and shove your hand inside, feeling his cock straining against his underwear. He moans against your mouth, and you let out an involuntary whine. You’ve wanted to hear that sound for so long.

“I’m surprised Kunikida left you alone with me,” Dazai mumbles, pushing you back just a little until you hit his desk and sit on it. He spreads your thighs so he can stand between them, then he starts teasing his long, deft fingers over your clothed heat. “He’s always on my ass telling me not to be inappropriate with you.”

“Oh?” you ask shakily, still trying to feel him up though he’s got you distracted now with his feather-light touches.

“Mmm,” he hums, taking his hands away from you. He pushes his pants and boxers down enough to free his cock, and you can’t help but to stare at it. You hoped it would be big, maybe even taken a few long glances at his crotch while he slept unknowingly on the breakroom couch. But it’s even bigger than you expected, and your pussy flutters with anticipation. “I think Kunikida wants to make a proper lady out of you.”

“Proper ladies don’t fuck their coworkers in the office,” you say, pulling your panties to the side. Dazai watches you and licks his lips, giving his cock a few strokes. He reaches forward, slides two of his fingers up your slit and groans.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

“I wanna fuck you so bad,” you admit, leaning back onto your hands. You both moan to some degree when his fingers slide into you.

“The feeling is mutual,” he mumbles back. He gives a few pumps, a few twists, before pulling back out and smearing your slick wetness all over the head of his cock. Then, with urgency, he lines his tip up with your pussy and teases for just a few seconds, collecting more of your natural lube so he can slide in smoothly. 

“Dazai,” you whine, squirming, trying to get closer. He says nothing as he pushes forward slowly, pulling out just a bit, then continuing in until he’s almost completely buried in you.

“Fuck,” he moans, dropping his head down. He can’t stop looking at your pussy taking his cock in. “You’re so fucking hot. God, this pussy is so tight.” You whine and moan, leaning back more until you bump into his computer.

“Get this shit out of the way,” he mumbles, annoyed, as he reaches behind you and shoves stacks of papers and his computer monitor to the side with reckless abandon until you have room to lay on his desk and pull your knees up and to the side. You’re at the perfect level now for him to start drilling you, and oh does he.

The once quiet office is filled with wet squelches and skin slapping skin as he fucks you, holding you by the hips so you can’t slide away from him. He fucks you hard and quick and dirty. He fucks you all the way to the hilt, stuffing you full and letting his balls smack against your ass. You’re so wet that it covers his cock all the way to the base and starts to make a sticky ring against his body. 

“Oh, Dazai,” you moan. “Shit-- Fuck-- oh, you’re so fucking big.” 

“Good fucking pussy,” he huffs out. He reaches up with one hand and starts palming your tit, massaging and squeezing. “I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. You’re gonna like that, huh? Gonna sit at your desk all day doing work for Kunikida with my cum in your pussy.”

“Yeah,” you whine loudly. You manage to pull another two buttons free and Dazai takes advantage, reaching inside to knead your boob and pinch your nipple, making you moan even more. “Fuck me so good, Dazai. Make me cum, please.”

“Oh, I’ll make you cum, baby, but I’m not done with you yet.”

He pulls out of you then and you whine at the loss of his thick cock buried deep in you. He leans down, pushing your shirt and bra to the side to suck on your tits. He swirls his tongue around, suckling and nipping with his teeth while his other hand tweaks your nipple and massages. After a minute he switches, giving equal attention to the other breast. You take the opportunity to run your hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp and pulling on his hair.

“They’ll be back in fifteen,” you warn him. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Mmm, but there’s so much fun to be had,” he sighs, resting his face in the valley between your breasts. “Do you live in the ADA dorms?”

“No, I have a roommate across town.”

“Tell them you’re staying with a friend tonight.”

He stands up and takes your hands, pulling you up too. You’re afraid he’s gonna stop here, but instead he turns you around, kisses down your neck, and then firmly pushes your shoulders down so you’re bent over his desk. Without another word he lines up with your hole again and enters you quickly. He sets a brutal pace, utilizing long, hard thrusts to make you feel the full extent of his cock. It’s so long and such a nice girth that it fills you completely, stretching your walls so nicely and thrumming against your cervix with every thrust. Once again the office is full of the sounds of skin slapping skin, your pussy squelching every time he enters you, and a steady stream of moans and curses from both of you.

“You’re gonna cum with me,” he says after a few minutes reaching around your hip to feel you up. He finds your clit in only a few seconds and rubs it frantically while still fucking you hard, trying to suddenly overwhelm your nerves to make you cum hard, and fuck does it work.

“Dazai,” you call his name loudly as a warning, whimpering and whining while pushing back against him. “I’m gonna cum, Dazai, fuck, I can’t stop--”

“--Cum,” he commands. “Cum all over this fat cock, princess.”

Your orgasm wracks your body, making your knees shake and your thighs tremble. You cum, slightly squirting, making even more juices squish out of your pussy as he fucks you through your orgasm. The pulsing of your walls as you cum squeezes Dazai’s cock so good, making him cum too, spurting ropes of his seed deep into you. He stays buried to the hilt, grinding against you, for several seconds after you’ve both worked through your orgasms. When he finally pulls back, he holds you down by your hips so he can watch cum drip out of your pussy and onto the floor. He swipes some of it onto his fingers and reaches around, holding it in front of your lips.

“Open,” he says, and you do, sticking your tongue out and taking his fingers in, sucking the cum and other fluids off his fingers. “Good girl,” he says, rubbing his other hand on your ass. After he finally pulls his fingers out of your mouth, he readjusts your panties so they cover your abused cunt.

“You’re gonna leak through your panties,” he says, finally allowing you to stand back up. “Gonna leave a damp spot on your chair by the end of the day so you have a reminder of me.”

“Good,” you say, buttoning your blouse again. “And I’d love to come over tonight, by the way. I’ll tell my roommate not to expect me until late.”

Dazai smiles and finishes tucking himself back into his pants. He also kneels down and uses a tissue to wipe the cum off the floor.

“Only a few minutes left,” he says when he stands back up. “Clean yourself up and get ready.”

“What about your desk? We really messed it up.”

“Don’t worry about it, just go sit at your desk like a good girl.” He presses a firm kiss to your lips then pats your ass so you’ll get moving. He sighs wistfully, climbs on top of his desk, and lays over it, draping himself all the way across Atsushi’s desk as well. Now the mess looks like another dramatic Dazai performance that no one even questions when they come back from lunch.

[cissa-calls]

The verse was not featured in the episode, but on the recorded version of Rock Ballad of the Witches Road, Rio sings:

"The road is wild and wicked,

Winding out of time.

Still we face our fortune,

Chasing the sublime.

What's lost is found,

What's fierce is bound,

We're broken and we're burned.

But take a breath,

And dance with death.

My love cannot be turned."

-

“Winding out of time”

Could be interpreted as either that the road exists in its own pocket of time and reality, or that the witches walking the road are running out of time (as they are being chased by misfortune, Alice with a generational curse that is slowing killing her, Agatha who is being pursued by the Salem Seven, or death in general, as the road is dangerous).

“Still we face our fortune, chasing the sublime.”

Still the coven faces their fate (perhaps predicted by Lilia) in pursuit of their goals to achieve divine rewards of knowledge or abilities.

“What’s lost is found.” This is perhaps the lyric most open to interpretation, especially as the series goes on. It could apply to a number of things. The real name and identity of teen? Agatha’s and Rio’s love? Agatha’s son? Agatha’s powers? Even Jennifer’s powers or Alice’s relationship with her mother?

“What’s fierce is bound”

Agatha’s magic. Jennifer’s abilities. Alice’s confidence and memories of her mother. Lilia’s visions. The teens possible powers. Though most likely it is meant specially for Agatha, it could apply to all of them, disenfranchised and desperate to flourish behind their restraints with what makes them powerful. Spell casting. Potions. Magic…perhaps even the detested camaraderie and strength of covenhood.

“We’re broken and we’re burned”

The meaning is pretty obvious, each of them has literal and metaphorical wounds and scars. As witches, being targeted and prosecuted is something intrinsic to the craft (which Lilia has a moment when she views the glass mosaics along the hallway to remember and grieve that). But also on a personal level, each have been broken and burned by love and trust.

“But take a breath, and dance with death.”

There are two possibilities: They all must take a breath, steady their nerves, and risk themselves during these trials. To win, you have to skirt with danger and flaunt with living. In the first trial, Agatha tried to cheat, but to participate in the trials, you have to offer your life up freely.

The other, emphasized by the fact that Rio is the one singing it, refers to the theory that she is death, and is asking them (specifically Agatha) to entangle with her.

“My love cannot be turned”

In the original context of this song, which was sung by Lorna as a protection spell for Alice, this is her declaring how despite their estrangement, despite her death, Lorna will have an enduring love of her daughter that cannot be swayed.

Of course for Rio, this may be her proclaiming to Agatha that despite their past quarrels, pain, and time apart, her love for the other has not diminished. She is still here, and her love is uncompromising.

[darknesscreepin]

haku shota | h.st

warnings: perv!shota, breeding kink, cumming in pants, little bit of exhibitionism.

perv!shota who has been obsessed with you since you let him borrow a pencil in class one day. turning around to hand him the utensil with a kind smile on your face, your hand accidentally grazing his in the process. he immediately was enraptured by your every move.

perv!shota who was so happy that he sat behind you because the smell of your perfume would waft directly in his direction— “thank god for the air conditioning.” he would think to himself as he inhaled your air. he would purposely make his way to class faster so he could smell your scent when you sat down. it was most prominent then.

perv!shota who made it his goal to befriend you. you were a little wary of him at first— i mean the kid had no friends. he was always making weird, unintelligible noises that made people look at him sideways, but with time you found his quirks adorable. the little alien language he sometimes communicated in, always pulled a laugh from you and shota’s heart would race. sometimes he would purposely exaggerate the things he did just to hear you giggle.

perv!shota that made sure to stay near you during your shared graduation party. you had suggested the idea after hearing he was going to play games after the big day. “come on sho, you can’t spend all day playing minecraft! let’s just merge the day for us, it’s fine i swear. it’ll be so fun!” all shota registered was us he was immediately on board. throughout the party he would follow you around, extremely close behind you that he’d have to stop himself from tripping. he just wanted to feel the curve of your ass graze against his clothed dick. you were so busy greeting everyone with a smile on your face, that you didn’t feel the sensation of the bleach haired boy just barely grinding against you.

perv!shota that invited you out for ice cream and you happily accepted. it was a sweltering day and you were finally free, it had been so long since you had seen your friend. did shota intentionally wait to call you to hang out on one of the hottest days of the week? yes. he knew you’d wear something more revealing to avoid being unnecessarily hot—and you did. a baby blue maxi skirt falling against your legs, and a black tank top that hugged your tits so nicely. how could shota not stare?

perv!shota who insisted on sitting outside in the blistering heat. “it’s such a nice day, y/n, c’mon!” you reluctantly agreed and the two of you made your way to a table. shota would offer you a taste of his ice cream in a cup. the spoon making it’s way into your mouth made shota breathe heavier. he hurriedly took the utensil from you, taking another bite so he could have your leftover saliva from the spoon is his mouth. you did the friendly thing and also motioned your ice cream cone towards the boy. he felt his cock twitch in his pants. holding the cold treat to his mouth, he took a few meekish licks and handed it back to you. he also made sure to film a video of you licking the rapidly melting ice cream from your arm, because it was “so funny.” little did you know he’d cum untouched to the video that night, imagining your arm was his cock and you were licking cum from it.

perv!shota who would regularly find himself on your insta, palming himself through his boxers. he was currently looking at an innocent photo of you clinking your glass with a friend’s. to shota it was so much more. his favorite trait of yours, your breasts, were perfectly exposed in the pastel yellow sundress you wore. he wanted to have your hard nipples in front of him, and wrap his pretty pink lips around your huge tits. the thought made the sick boy slide his hand under his briefs and firmly grip his leaking dick. so much precum dripping from his mushroom head. the image of your lips being smeared in the substance oftentimes made it’s way into shota’s head, you wearing it like a lipgloss. he slicked his length with the man made lube and he barely lasted a minute. cum leaking through his boxers, only getting in five proper strokes.

perv!shota who watched too much hentai. he had adapted such vulgar kinks from the porn. one of his favorite things was imagining breeding your cunt. filling you up with so much of his cum—he had so much of it to give, and he only wanted to share it with you. trying his best to place your face in his mind as he watched cum leak from an animated character’s pussy. oh how he wished he could do those things with you.

perv!shota who would rut against his pillow and loudly moan, not a care in the world. his room smelled just like you and he was getting high off the smell. last time he visited your house, he made sure to snatch one of your perfumes. spritzing it around his room before he straddled the cotton filled pillow. his cock would just leak and he wondered if you would let him cum or not. wondered if you’d stop being his friend if you ever found out how much of a slut he was for you. you’d probably look at him in so much disgust, that only turned him on more, leading to his orgasm. “sorry y/n.” he whispers as he slowly continued to grind his hips, riding out his high.

perv!shota who was such a pervert for you, couldn’t help but want to be your boyfriend. he knew you would never want to be associated with him if you ever knew what he was really like.