#arranged by broad category

[pinteresttransfer777]

Relationship advice: play a video game

If you wanna know if they're the one, start an open-world videogame together. Doesn't matter which one, stardew valley, minecraft, astroneer, whatever as long as it has multiplayer, resource management, and things that can kill you. this works cuz guess what?

all the shit they do and all the habits they have in the beep-boop world? that's shit they do in real life.

my spouse was never able to put fuckall away in minecraft back when we were dating and today i found the kitchen scissors in the pantry sitting on our unopened beans

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Enemies vs cowards

With few exceptions, it is more accurate to divide most politicians into two broad categories: Enemies, and Cowards. The enemies are those politicians who are legitimately opposed to your policy goals. The cowards are those politicians who may agree with your policy goals, but will sell you out if they must in order to protect their own interests. Embrace the idea that we are simply pushing to elect the cowards, rather than the enemies. Why? Because the true work of political action is not to identify idealized superheroes to run for office. It is, instead, to create the conditions in the world that make it safe for the cowards to vote the right way. Under this framework, you can set aside the tedious feelings of disappointment that come with holding moral views while also supporting any politician. Will your favorite candidate do something bad? Almost certainly. After all, they are cowards. The onus is on us to give the cowards a soft path to the moral choice. The education necessary to equip citizens with the facts; the persuasion necessary to move public opinion to the right place; the organizing necessary to mobilize people to fight for the right thing. These things are the substance of “politics.” Elections can be seen as just another organizing task, one in an endless procession of efforts necessary to arrange the chess pieces of power in a way that will, eventually, produce the righteous outcome.

-Hamilton Nolan

[ladamedusoif]

20/20 - no outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

(gif by @nicolethered)

Summary: After months of pestering from Sarah, Joel finally concedes that he might need to get his eyesight checked and makes an appointment at your optometrist practice. He really doesn’t want glasses, though.

Pairing: No Outbreak!Joel Miller x Optometrist F!Reader

Content/Warnings: MDNI; 18+; not explicit as such but implied; no outbreak AU; Joel and reader are broadly around the same age; fluff; Joel in glasses is his own warning; me making stuff up about eye exams

Word Count: 1600 (this was supposed to be a drabble)

Notes: So @lunapascal and @julesonrecord decided I needed to atone for being incredibly thirsty for the sight of a certain someone putting on a pair of glasses. And voilà, a “glasses are hot” one-shot and my first attempt at Mr Miller.

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. But they’re also fascinating little machines in their own right, and you should know: you’ve been running your own vision care clinic in Austin for almost twenty years, after qualifying as an optometrist and gaining experience for a couple of years at various chains.

Some people love finding out they’re going to get to wear glasses. Others? Not so much.

Your last customer of the day definitely falls into the latter category. 

“Mr Miller?”

He looks around him in the empty waiting area, sighs, and stands up to join you in the testing suite. He looks like he’s being sent to the rack, not going for a routine eye examination. You introduce yourself and gesture towards the seat in front of your desk.

“So, Mr Miller -”

“Joel.”

“Joel. What brings you to the clinic today? You’re a new customer, have you just moved to the area?”

Joel looks uncomfortable, shifting in the seat. You guess he’s in his early fifties or so, salt-and-pepper hair and a patchy beard. He’s broad, still evidently a strong and well-built man. His denim shirt, embroidered with a logo that reads Miller Family Contractors, fits snugly but perfectly over his frame. 

“No, not new to Austin. Been here my whole life. Just…new to the eye doctor.”

“I see.” You pull up his file on the computer system and note his age. “If you don’t mind me saying, Joel, you’ve done pretty well getting to this stage in life without needing some kind of sight correction. What’s changed?”

He exhales, and for the first time since he sat down he actually makes eye contact with you.

Holy shit. You look at irises and pupils and corneas all damn day. You admire and respect the human eye, but you didn’t think it had the same power of attraction over you. Turns out, it had just been a while since you’d seen eyes as beautiful as his.

Even in the shitty artificial light of the testing suite, you can see that Joel Miller’s eyes are a perfect dark brown: at times like black coffee, at times like fine whiskey, depending on the light. They’re warm and enticing, even without him trying. You notice, too, the laughter lines and wrinkles around those extraordinary eyes - here, despite his stern exterior and manner, is a man who smiles and laughs. Who knows happiness.

“My daughter… she made me. Said she was gettin’ sick of me holdin’ up my phone so I could see the screen, and of missin’ half the stuff in my shows because I was squintin’.”

“Ah, she sounds like a wise person. Well, Joel, let’s get going.”

You conduct the retinal exam and the glaucoma test, Joel flinching as the puffs of air hit each eye. When he almost drags himself off the stool to move over for the pupil reactions and visual acuity testing, you decide to just ask.

“Joel, is everything okay? Are you comfortable with the procedures I’m doing?”

He arranges himself in the chair, his broadness making the equipment look comically small. He flashes you another look with those big brown eyes.

“I…I don’t want glasses.”

It’s not the first time you’ve heard this. “It’s okay, Joel. If you need vision correction we can look at contacts, or even laser surgery if you think that might be an option.”

He grimaces.

“I don’t want pokin’ in my eyes, either. Or lasers pointed at them. Absolutely not.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Well, let’s hope you don’t need glasses, then, Joel Miller.”

You have to get up close to him for parts of the eye test, as normal. To your horror, you realise that every time you do so, you get a surge of desire. He smells of shaved wood, of pine soap, of peppermint, and of leather. You notice the smattering of freckles across the tan skin exposed by the snaps left open on his shirt. You can’t take your own eyes off his hands: big, broad, long, and strong. 

Your mind immediately wanders to thinking about what those hands could do to you. Where they could go that you can’t reach with your own fingers, how they’d feel against your skin, reaching for you, groping at your tits as you - 

You clear your throat and turn back to the lens unit, away from Joel, lest he see how flustered you are becoming. He’s got a daughter, you remind yourself. He’s got a wife, or a partner.

“Everythin’ okay?”

“Sure, yes, fine, Joel. Sorry, just trying a new lens combination.”

***

Of course he needs glasses. It’s not a very strong prescription, but he seems crestfallen as you talk him through it.

“Joel, I don’t want to be condescending but glasses are a minor hardship when you think of being able to see clearly again.”

For the first time, he cracks a smile. “I know, I know. I just - I dunno. I feel like I’m an old man now, with my glasses and my stiff knees and my tight back. That’s why I didn’t want them, I - vanity, I guess. Didn’t want to admit I was old.”

You smile in return, noting how kind and warm his expression was. “You’re not old, Joel. You look great.”

That was unprofessional.

He blushes. “Until I put the specs on, that is.”

You point to yourself. “I’m wearing contacts today so it’s easier for me to do my job, but in my downtime - I’m glasses all the way.”

He scoffs. “Different for you, though, you’d look pretty no matter what.” 

“Pretty?” 

Joel looks up at you from under his lashes. “I mean…yeah, you are. Probably even prettier in your glasses, too.”

It’s your turn for the heat to rise to your cheeks, but you can’t help smiling. “Let’s just double-check the last of the personal contact details before we go look at some frames. Says here your emergency contact is Sarah Miller but there’s no description of your relationship - is she your wi-“

“Daughter. Sarah’s my adult daughter. No wife, no girlfriend.”

You try not to smile too obviously. “My emergency contact is my younger sister. Same reason.”

As you print out Joel’s new prescription, there’s a knock on the door - Meghan, your assistant who usually looks after customers when they choose their frames.

“It’s closing time… you want me to stay late?”

You shake your head. “Of course not, Meghan. I think I’ll be able to help Mr Miller choose his new frames. If that’s okay with you, Joel?”

He smiles and turns to Meghan. “I think I’m in good hands.”

***

Joel studies the selection of frames on display in the main public area of the clinic, looking completely overwhelmed. He turns to you, shrugging helplessly.

“I don’t even know where to start. What would you suggest? You’re the expert.”

You move closer to study his features, taking in the size and shape of his face, the firm set of his jaw, the strong line of his nose, the softness of his lips. 

Fuck, this is a beautiful man.

You catch your breath momentarily. “Many men who don’t want glasses choose the invisible frames, like these.” You hold up a pair of the lightweight style, placing them gingerly on Joel’s handsome face.

He studies himself in the mirror. “Not bad. Can’t even tell.”

“If I might suggest something, though?”

He nods. “You’re the expert, like I said.”

“I think your features could carry something a little stronger. More definite, more distinguished. Can I show you?”

You pick a couple of acetate frames from the rack, one in a dark caramel brown, the other in a sort of charcoal grey. You hold them out to Joel. 

He wavers, and settles on the caramel pair. You watch as he examines the frames, before gently putting them on.

That’s when you give yourself away. The sight of that man putting on those glasses is so devastatingly sexy that you let out a tiny moan. Joel turns, the frames beautifully complementing his colouring and the darkness of his eyes, and it’s all you can do not to moan again.

“You okay?”

“I’m…I’m fine. You just look…very…”

He moves closer, a little smile on his face. “You sayin’ the glasses are doin’ it for you?”

You nod. “That pair, yes. Yes, I think they might be. I’m sorry, this is horribly unprofessional of me.”

He grins. “Can you explain what it is you like about them?”

You swallow hard, turning him to see himself alongside you in a mirror. “They’re stylish. They are strong. They’re distinguished. They’re very…masculine.” You let the next words slip before you can stop yourself. “In other words, they’re very you.”

Joel turns his back to the mirror, focusing on you. “Only because you found them for me. I’d never have tried somethin’ like this.”

“You glad you did?”

“I am. And I’m glad I came in to get my old eyes checked out by the prettiest optometrist in all Texas.” 

You laugh, and he catches your hand to pull you in. Your fingers rest lightly on the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the taut denim underneath. You look at him expectantly.

“I know this is probably mighty unprofessional, but…”

You nod. “But I’ve already gone over the line, so…”

Joel leans in, frames still on, and kisses you: hot, hungry, deeply. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, returning his kiss with the same intensity. When you break away, you take his hand and lead him back towards the testing suite.

“More tests, darlin’?”

You arch an eyebrow as you pull him inside and close the door. “I suspect you’ll pass these with flying colours, Joel Miller. You don’t need 20/20 vision for what I’ve got in mind.”

[specterthief]

Definitions and Classifications of Yuri (Third Revision) - yuri315

(This is a translation of a 2018 blog post by the user yuri315 on hatenablog, originally found here. I find this author's system incredibly thorough and interesting, as well as the examples they provide of most of the relationship types, so I wanted to translate it and share it with other yuri fans on Tumblr. I included notes on important information that I thought required additional context, and provided links to all of the manga and anime mentioned, in English when possible and in Japanese when no English was available.)

At present, in order to roughly group together a great variety of relationships as "yuri", the question of where the line is on what can be considered yuri, whether a certain work can be called yuri, and other such unproductive arguments happen frequently. The purpose of this article is to create a general classification of the contents of yuri as a genre, in hopes of shifting the conversation from "is this yuri?" to "what kind of yuri do I enjoy?"

Of course, it can't be denied that the ambiguity of the definition of yuri, combining works following a variety of tastes and trends into a single genre, has been an aspect of the boom that's revitalized the genre. Understandably, there are concerns that clumsily subdividing the classification of yuri will cause a lack of cohesion and lead to the boom stalling and collapsing, when as it is now it hasn't even received a genre code at Comiket.* However, for the general public and new fans who don't share these assumptions, it may be difficult for them to understand situations where it isn't clear whether something is yuri, and they may not be influenced or restricted by those saying "X isn't yuri." Therefore, it is the author's belief that it would be significant for the yuri genre to have some form of comprehensive definition or classification.

Let's start with a provisional definition of yuri. Yuri can be described as "relationships between two or more women, and the genre of works that depicts those relationships." By analyzing what feelings and behaviors these "relationships" are based on, the contents of the yuri genre can be classified. In the following article, we will divide yuri into three broad categories: "Romantic Relationships", "Special Relationships" and "Friendly Relationships", and then establish a more detailed typology of how these relationships form and how they may be portrayed in each category. These designations are for convenience only, and the author is currently experimenting to find a better system.

(*TL note: Genre codes at Comiket—Comic Market, a doujinshi convention and the largest fan convention in the world—are used for attending artists/circles to categorize their work. Circles exhibiting works in the same genre code are grouped together in the convention space; there are currently no genre codes for yuri like there are for BL, even now, five years after this article was written.)

1. Romantic Relationships

Romantic and/or sexual relationships between women. This category includes relationships where there is a clear declaration of romantic love, or the relationship can be clearly understood to be romantic despite a lack of an explicit declaration.

1-1. Escape and Compensation

The story depicts indulging in a homosexual relationship as a compensatory act in order for a woman to escape, temporarily or permanently, from a situation in which her right to self-determination is threatened by coercive heterosexuality, such as arranged or forced marriages or betrothals.

1-2. Temptation and Conflict

The story depicts a woman being seduced into a homosexual relationship by another attractive woman, despite the conflict of their "forbidden love." The seducer is typically portrayed as leading the protagonist into an unknown world, often with tragic consequences. This is nearly synonymous with the "Crimson Rose and Candy" archetype defined by Yukari Fujimoto.* *(TL Note: "Crimson Rose and Candy" is an extremely prevalent archetype in early yuri, originally depicted in Shiroi Heya no Futari, what is generally considered the first yuri manga. Despite its origins and association with yuri, due to the overlap in the genres and authors in the Year 24 Group, it's an archetype that was present in contemporary M/F shoujo and BL, notably Gilbert and Serge in Kaze to Ki no Uta.)

1-3. Self-Awareness and Confession

The story depicts adolescent girls becoming self-aware of their feelings and fluctuations in their sexuality, and, through confessing, beginning romantic relationships. Coming-of-age stories in school settings where the girls face problems particular to puberty are especially common. Examples: - Akira Okudaira x Fumi Manjome (Sweet Blue Flowers by Takako Shimura) - Mariko Kumakura x Akiko Oohashi (GIRL FRIENDS by Milk Morinaga) - Tsubaki Kureha x Ginko Yurishiro (Yurikuma Arashi)

1-4. Negotiation and Dialog

The story depicts a romantic relationship between women who are equal individuals. They are typically emotionally mature to some degree, and already aware of their own sexuality. Negotiations between them occur as necessary as the relationship progresses, and if problems or obstacles arise, they're resolved through dialog between the characters. Examples: - Momoko Naitou x Shinobu Handa x others (Shoujo Sect by Kenn Kurogane) - Yukino Miyashita x Setsuko Iwai (Octave by Haru Akiyama) - Tsukasa Shiratori x Mikage Kotooka x Nadeshiko Washio (Nameless Asterism by Kina Kobayashi)

1-5. Continuation and Stability

The story depicts women who are already dating or living together as a couple. The focus is on the continuation of an established relationship and its stability into the future, and concerns such as living arrangements or coming out to those around them. Most yuri of this type features working adults, and typically include sex or similar acts. Examples: - Maya Nagumo x Michiru Amamiya (Ohana Holoholo by Shino Torino) - Arisa Suzuki x Mari Satou (Akarui Kioku Soushitsu by Oku Tamamushi)

1-6. One-sided Love

The story depicts one woman having unrequited feelings for another woman. This includes stories where these feelings remain hidden for the entirety of the work, or where she confesses and is rejected. Examples: Tomoyo Daidouji → Sakura Kinomoto (Cardcaptor Sakura)

2. Special Relationships

Relationships where the feelings between the characters are ambiguous but special, and can't be constrained by the definitions of either friendship or love. Regardless of the nature of the relationship, the common point is a sense of awareness that "this person is special to me." In most cases, the relationship isn't explicitly stated to be one of romantic love, but can still be said to be nearly a romantic relationship, or a pseudo-romantic relationship.

2-1. Magnetic Attraction

The story depicts an intense relationship in which the characters mutually resonate with one another on an existential or spiritual level, and are irresistibly and strongly attracted to one another, as if by magnetism or gravity. The invention of the term "magnetic attraction" is the greatest achievement of Sound! Euphonium and can be considered a major event in the world of yuri. Examples: - Kumiko Oumae x Reina Kousaka (Sound! Euphonium) - Ange x Princess (Princess Principal)

2-2. Partners

The story depicts characters who become involved with one another in a half-formed way through fate or various other inevitable circumstances, and later develop a strong physical or emotional bond. It's a similar concept to "Forced Yuri", the tagline of MekiMeki's Only☆You ~Anata to Watashi no Futari Bocchi Keikaku~. Examples: - Haruka Tenou x Michiru Kaiou (Sailor Moon S) - Papika x Cocona (Flip Flappers) - Sara Ayafuji x Iris Kazari (Vampire-chan x Kouhai-chan by Sakaki Yoshioka)

2-3. Shelter

The story depicts a relationship that serves as a refuge from existential anxiety, miscommunication and societal oppression. There are similarities to 1-1 "Escape and Compensation", but instead of simple escapism, this type has the positive connotation of bonds between women facilitating healing, self-examination, and rebuilding one's way of life and relationships with other people in order to grow as a human being. Examples: - Utena Tenjou x Anthy Himemiya (Revolutionary Girl Utena) - Rakka x Reki (Haibane Renmei) - You Aizawa x Hana Kojima (I Want To Make You Cry by Bunbi Bun)

2-4. Buddies

The story depicts a relationship in which the characters act together to achieve a specific goal, and are connected by a strong bond of trust. Unlike 2-2 "Partners", these are often somewhat passive relationships where the characters' partnership is necessary to achieve their objectives, but over time they may realize their importance to each other and prioritize being together. Aside from truly equal "buddies", this can also include asymmetrical relationships like master-and-servant yuri. Examples: - Mireille Bouquet x Kirika Yuumura (NOIR) - Sora Naegino x Layla Hamilton (Kaleido Star) - Arika Yumemiya x Mashiro Blan de Windbloom (My-Otome)

2-5. Huge Unclear Emotions

The story depicts at least one of the women feeling incredibly intense emotions toward another woman. Specifically, there are three main types: evaluative emotions, such as good will, respect, admiration, envy or worship, obsessive emotions, such as possessiveness, protectiveness, dependence, or sadistic or masochistic desire, and hostile emotions, such as rivalry, jealousy, hatred, or a desire to kill. However, various emotions are often intricately interwoven in a way that is difficult to describe in one or two words. Examples: - Mamina x Roatreamon (Simoun) - Madoka Kaname x Homura Akemi (Puella Magi Madoka Magica) - Chariot du Nord x Croix Meridies (Little Witch Academia)

2-6. Closeness

The story depicts a slow awareness of one another in an intimate relationship. It involves the characters feeling safe when they're together, or having the feeling that they belong by one another's side. Examples: - Shino Kishibe x Nozomi Kishibe (I Live With My Brother's Wife. by Kuzushiro)

3. Friendly Relationships

Relationships that aren't particularly special, but are nonetheless amiable and intimate. This can include a huge range of relationships, from deep camaraderie and familial relationships to simple playful friendship between girls.

Of the above, 1. "Romantic Relationships" can be considered "true yuri", while 2. "Special Relationships" and 3. "Friendly Relationships" could be called "soft yuri."

[absurdthirst]

Religious Corruption: No Sweeter Innocence

Professor!Dave York x Virgin!F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 27.8k

Warnings: Religion kink, corruption kink, innocence kink, age gap, unbalanced power dynamic, grooming (?), professor/student relationship, blasphemy, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), panty kink, exhibitionist kink(?), oral sex (make receiving), filthiness with rosary beads, desecration of Holy spaces, daddy kink, baby/little girl pet names, spanking, orgasm denial, loss of virginity, explicit photo without consent, vaginal sex, cum swallowing, mentions of analingus, face sitting, pussy spanking, unprotected sex, angst, heartbreak, controlling parents, arranged marriage, children, mentions of pregnancy.

Comments: Incoming freshmen are innocent, especially at St. Brennans Catholic College. Religious Studies with a handsome professor proves distracting. A man who enjoys your innocence and has every intention of corrupting you.

Co-written with @pedropascalsx

!!Additional Warning!! - There are themes in this fic that might be disturbing to some. Religion/Power Dynamics/Age Gap - consume at your own risk.

|| MasterList || Religious Corruption MasterList ||

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You brush the front of your blazer and fix the hemline of your skirt. Fighting the temptation to check with a ruler that it’s at least two inches before the knees as required.

It had been a long summer, and you were ready to start your first year at college and dive into your classes.

And whilst St. Brennans Catholic College wasn’t your first choice, you knew your parents were making the right one by insisting you went there. Following in their footsteps and hopefully meeting your future husband in bible study as your parents did many years before.

A new year. Fresh minds to educate, to mould. Dave watches with an amused eye as nervous students file into his lecture hall, skittish and unused to the freedoms that they are now experiencing. Some of them are away from home and hearth for the first time. Narrowing his gaze on a few as he predicts who will be the troublemakers and who will ultimately drop the class before midterms.

You shuffle into the hall with your head buried in the textbook you had been instructed to buy for this class.

Religious Studies with Professor D. York. 

You take the first seat you can find and settle down as comfortably as you can, before reaching into your bag and pulling out your notebook and pencil case. The sound of shoes scuffing against the polished hardwood floor makes you shudder, before the sound of a throat being cleared echoes throughout the hall. And that’s when you look up and see him.

The first day of class is always daunting for some, exciting for others. It's always interesting to see who falls into which category. The ones that are already prepared make him smirk slightly, twisting to point back at the large whiteboard the department had insisted on replacing his chalk board with. "This is Religious Studies and I am Dave York." He announces in a clear voice, wanting those on the back row to hear him. "If you are not supposed to be here, leave now." Silence amplifies the shuffling of papers and the creaking of chairs as they all try to get comfortable. 

"Good." He huffs, clicking on the projector so that the introduction slide comes up. "My office hours are Monday through-"

You listen as he starts to talk and you feel a flood of guilt course through your veins as you find yourself focusing less on what he’s saying and more on the way his broad shoulders strain the material of his shirt.

You feel your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you force your eyes away from his frame,  and that’s when he catches your line of sight. You’re not sure if you imagined it or not but you swore he was looking deep into your soul and you could feel the moment your heart stuttered in your chest. And then he simply cleared his throat, looked away and continued on…

Leaving you sitting there flustered and unaware of if you imagined the whole thing. Your eyes flicker around the room as you try to gauge if anyone was looking at you or seemed just as taken back as you currently were.

But everyone was either staring directly at him or desperately scrambling to note down every world that was spilling out of his mouth.

Dave smirks slightly, watching her squirm in her seat, sensing immediately that she's innocent. Perfect and untouched. Her flustered expression amuses him and he can imagine those eyes wide and glassy as she looks up at him, leaning into his hand at her jaw. 

"Everyone fill out your survey that is at your seat. It's that you remember to put your school email not whatever gmail - 'pimp4life' account you use." There is a nervous round of chuckling and he lifts a brow. "I'm serious. That was one student's email that he wanted to use. Needless to say, he transferred out."

You write down your assigned email address as neatly as you can. Focusing on anything and everything but the man stood in front of you and the other 50 people in your class. 

‘Shoot’ you think to yourself as you realise that you’re going to be spending 2 hours a day 5 times a week in this room staring at him.

Dave drones on, talking about the course material and the syllabus, watching as some students frantically scribble and others are lost to the haze of realising ‘how much work’ is involved with college. Still, his eyes come back to her. Watching, assessing.

Every time he looks in your direction, you swear you can feel him everywhere. The intense gaze of his eyes seems to burrow under your skin and spread throughout your body.

You try to ignore the way you feel a pulse down there, but the more he looks your way the stronger it grows.

You gently clutch at the cross draped around your neck and silently chide yourself and will yourself to be a good girl.

She’s the one. Dave hums to himself when he sees her flutter her lashes and look down at the paper in front of her. Close enough that he can see the way her thighs squeeze together. “We’re going to start out with the seven deadly sins.” He announces with a grin. “Starting with everyone’s favourite. Lust.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as the word lingers in the air ‘lust,’ that's exactly what this is you tell yourself.

Just a silly school girl crush. You’re in a new town filled with people you don’t know and this is just a silly little crush that you’ll be over by next period.

The rest of the time goes smoothly, his eyes flickering back to her several more times as he lectures. He checks his watch and sighs. “For tonight. Your homework -“ he holds up his hand as a collective groan rolls through the room. “Your assignment is to write about what you think lust is. Give an example of it. A book, a movie - not 50 Shades of Grey. Give me good examples of displays of lust.” He raises his voice higher to be heard as people start to shuffle.

You feel heat rise in your chest as he announces the assignment. ‘An example of a display of lust’… “Shit,” you mutter under your breath before internally scolding yourself for cursing. How could you possibly turn in this assignment when you’ve never in your life seen a movie that wasn’t ‘G’ or ‘PG’ rated. 

Every reading material you’ve ever read has been approved of by your parents and the parental controls on your cell phone have prevented you from ever accidentally stumbling across something you shouldn’t.

“If you have any questions or concerns, stop by my office in Eaton Hall.” Dave reminds them as the bell rings and he watches the mass of bodies swell towards the door.

You quickly gather up your things but not before jotting down the location of his office in your diary.

He hadn’t shared his school email address with the class yet, so you’d have to swing by and ask him for it. You allow yourself one last glance in his direction before heading to the door, by the end of next period you’ll be laughing at yourself for being so affected by him.

Your next class goes by a lot smoother, you really like your English literature professor and you even consider going down and asking for her suggestions on some material that could help for Professor York’s assignment before deciding otherwise. 

And ultimately you decide to skip swinging by his office as well.  Instead you make your way to the school library. You’re more than capable of finding something with a good example of ‘lust’ in the library.  You don’t need your parents approval, you can simply go in and find something appropriate with a steamy kiss.

*

You find yourself pulling at your blazer as you stand outside his office, ‘what was I thinking?’ you think to yourself after your failed visit to the library.

A book with a ‘good example of lust’ in a library of a privately owned catholic college? You take a deep breath before finally knocking on the large wooden door in front of you, the plaque bearing his name right in your eye line as you do so.

“Come in.” Dave calls, reading through the scriptures that he had pulled for the lecture. Looking up, there’s an immense sense of satisfaction in seeing you poke your head through the door. “Come in.” He waves his hand to motion you inside.

“Hello, Professor York,” you manage to stutter out. You purposely avoid making eye contact with him and instead find yourself focusing on the large wooden globe situated at the end of his desk, “I was hoping to get your email address, I have a few things that I need to discuss with you in regards to the assignment you set earlier.”

You continue to tug on the sleeve of your blazer, the feeling of his dark eyes burn into you sending a shiver down your spine.

“Sit down.” His nostrils flare slightly but he looks welcoming and he leans towards you over his desk. “What are your concerns?” He asks, reaching for a card with his email address and phone numbers on it to push across the grain of the wood.

“Oh, I don’t want to take up too much of your time,” you shrug before giving him a shy smile, “I can just email you.”

“Sit.” His voice deepens slightly, taking on a sterner tone. The smile makes his cock twitch but he ignores it for now.

You nod your head and take a seat, making sure to cross your legs as tightly as you can as you do so. “I am just… unsure of what material to use for your assignment,” you say, your voice thick with innocence as you attempt to keep your composure. 

You stare down at your hands that are resting in your lap, “I-uh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything and I’ve never read anything that would be suitable… and we didn’t have cable growing up so I can’t think of a TV show either.”

Dave’s eyes widen slightly and he hums as he leans back in his chair. Perfect. “Sheltered, hmm?” He asks, tilting his head. “You never read or watched anything when you slept over at someone’s house?”

“I wasn’t allowed to have or go to slumber parties,” you admit with a shrug, “My parents had me lead bible study at weekends.”

His eye twitches and his hand flexes slightly. “Nothing at all.” He muses to himself and his eyes drag up and down your frame as he watches you.

You feel yourself growing more and more embarrassed as he stares down at you. “Maybe you could suggest something? I have two free periods after lunch so I could go to the bookstore or rent a movie?”

His lips curl up slightly and he lifts a brow at your brashness. Not what he expected from the daughter of the cloth. “I can lend you something.” He decides, pushing his chair back from the desk and standing to move past you to the bookshelf that lines the northern wall of his office.

“Thank you,” you mumble as you watch him approach the bookshelf, he’s quiet and he picks up a few books, studies them before putting them back down. Slowly he turns around and looks you up and down with a smirk spreading across his face.

Rubbing the cover of the book, he walks over to you to lean on the edge of his desk and hands it to you. “This should be familiar to you.” He offers, watching as you take the book and read the cover.

You read the title out loud and shake your head, “I’m sorry, sir, I’ve never read this one,” you say innocently.

He chuckles before reaching out and turning the book in your hands and you whisper the title out loud “The Art of Masturbation.”

“The concept. Not the book itself.” Dave huffs, amused at how you are pressing your knees together and your fingers fidget around the spine of the book.

“I-uh, I…” you stammer before shaking your head and thrusting the book back towards him. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I don’t know about any of that.”

“Well I’ll be…” Dave breaks off the curse, his entire body lighting up and he pushes the book back towards you. “Take it back to your room and read it.” He insists, his voice low as he rumbles out the words.

Your fingers linger in mid air for a few seconds as you contemplate rejecting his offer and asking for something different, but the way he looks at you, stirs something up inside of you that makes you want to please him. So you reach out and you take it, giving him a soft smile and an appreciative ‘thank you’.

Dave watches you for another moment and nods. “Do you have any more questions?” He asks you softly.

“No thank you,” you say before putting the book and his business card in your backpack, “Thank you again. I’ll read it tonight.”

You stand up and walk to the door, reaching for the handle before he calls your name. You turn around and blink innocently at him. “Bring the book back tomorrow during office hours.” He tells you, pinning you with another stare.

“Yes, sir,” you reply with a nod, giving him another polite smile before slinking out of the door.

The second the door closes behind you, you let out the inhale you didn’t realize you were holding in. You slowly pull on the straps of your backpack, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that everyone somehow knows what’s nestled in there. 

You walk as fast as you can back to your dorm, deciding that you’ll just make a sandwich once you’re home and feeling grateful that you have no more classes until tomorrow.

Dave watches the door long after you’ve gone. He had pulled your introduction paper as soon as you had dropped it on his desk after the lecture and looked at your file. Learning that you were the daughter of clergy. Not Catholic of course, but you had been raised in the church. So it makes sense that you are as innocent as you appear. Which makes you exactly what he’s looking for.

The moment you get back into your dorm, you free yourself of your backpack and go straight towards your mini fridge. Pulling out a water and the ingredients to fix yourself a sandwich. 

Armed with your water and your sandwich you make your way towards your bed, your eyes immediately landing on your backpack.

You make yourself comfortable and pull open your bag, reaching in and pulling out the book Professor York had just loaned you and you slowly open the cover. Taking a deep breath before reading the first page.

*

Dave waits for you to come into the classroom, sensing when someone opens the door and files inside. Eyes flickering over to see if it’s you before looking back down at his lesson notes. He wants to see your reaction, to see how you had absorbed the book he had given you.

You watch every step you take as you enter the room, making your way towards the same seat you had been sitting in 24 hours before. 

Reaching down you pull out your notebook and pencil case from your backpack, your fingertips grazing the book he’d loaned you as you do so and you find yourself whipping your head around to make sure no one could see into you bag and see the material that had made you drip your arousal into your panties.

The book that has made you push your fingers into your plain white cotton panties and press them against that spot that you know you shouldn’t touch, lingering there for a few seconds before you came to your senses and pulled it away. Hearing the sound of your mother telling you that ‘the lord is always watching’ ring out continuously in your ears as you attempt to push away the guilt.

There’s a sense of extreme satisfaction in your demure, flustered appearance today. His cock is half hard as he imagines you touching yourself while reading. Or maybe you had put the book away and huddled under your covers while you had your hand in your panties. Wondering if they are wet right now. Clearing his throat, he gathers the class’s attention. “What is lust?” He asks, looking around expectantly.

“What is lust?” His words feel like a punch to the throat. 

You find yourself sinking into your seat, desperate to shrink yourself and finding yourself praying to the lord he doesn’t call on you.

It's your second day of college and you feel as though you’ve committed more sin in the past 24 hours than you have in your whole life.

‘What is lust?’ you think again to yourself. Lust is staring at the wide expanse of your professors shoulders and wanting nothing more than to feel the warm skin that covers them. Lust is wanting to put the same lips you use dutifully in prayer on his and taste his mouth. Lust is wanting to put the same hands that you use to recite the rosary on the beads you carry everywhere with you on his body. Lust is sitting in a room full of people and feeling the small damp patch on your panties grow larger and wetter as the seconds tick by.

No one answers the question so Dave continues. “The dictionary defines lust as a ‘very strong sexual desire’.” He lectures. “But what does religion tell us about lust?”

“It’s a sin,” someone calls out from behind you and you fight the urge to chuckle.

“In most western religions, yes.” Dave answers, chuckling slightly. “But why Is it a sin? Can anyone answer that? According to the Bible?”

“It’s immoral,” you answer, surprising yourself as the sound of your own voice fills the room, “It defiles you. Leads you towards the temptations that strip you of your virtue, the ones that can make you impure.”

“Virtue, purity, defilement.” Dave hums looking around the hall and waiting for anyone else to pitch their theories. “Lust is a sin because it is selfish. It is greedy.” He lectures. “To lust is to solely focus on the desires of you alone.”

You swallow the lump forming in your throat as you start to scribble down his words. You desperately avoid looking directly at him and you find yourself squeezing your thighs  together so tightly that it hurts. ‘Why would he start with this?’ you think. It feels like a form of torture.

“Sexual desire is natural, so what is the difference between lust and attraction?” Dave poses, watching you bend over your notebook and write furiously. “Because if attraction is the same as lust, we are all damned.”

You look up from your notepad and find your eyes immediately burning into his. A heat floods your body as you feel your breath hitch.

It’s only the second day, and you’re so screwed.

The lecture goes on, Dave posing questions, encouraging the class to engage. To talk and debate. Still he watches you, enjoying the way that your breathing hitches and your eyes widen every time he looks at you. He continues on until the bell rings. “Turn in the papers on my desk!” He calls out.

You steady your breath as you walk down the stairs towards his desk, placing the paper upside on the already large stack on his desk. You sneak a glance at him engaging in conversation with another student before following the rest of your peers out of the room.

Your next class is only a few minutes from the lecture hall he teaches in so you make a beeline towards the bathrooms, hastily slamming the door behind you and heading into the first empty stall.

You cringe as you see your slick coating your thighs, and hastily clean yourself up the best you can before heading over to the sink and splashing cold water on your face.

“Pull yourself together,” you murmur into the mirror before heading out to your next class. In just over an hour you’ll need to swing by his office and return his book and you’re determined to not let him show how much he affects you.

Dave sits in his office, waiting. He’s read through the papers and some of them are laughable, making him wonder what kind of education these kids receive. He’s always argued against sheltering, because they are unprepared when they step out into the world. An oxymoron when he stops to think about it. 

Dave likes innocence. Loves it.  Craves corrupting it like the serpent in the Garden of Eden. Enjoys the moulding of someone pure and innocent and exposing them to pleasure. It was a sin, yes, but he wasn’t a priest. 

Your paper was saved for last. Savouring it as he reads your innocent words. Imagining you writing them while your panties are getting wet. You had shifted today and he had seen a flash of white. The symbol of purity and chastity. Making him imagine them covered in your sweet arousal as you rub your thighs together in class. 

Reaching down, he adjusts his cock, pushing his erection under his waistband. Looking at the clock, he smirks when there is a timid knock. “Enter.”

You push away the anxiety rising in your chest as you reach down to touch the brass doorknob and slowly begin to turn it.

You don’t make eye contact with him, instead you immediately pull your backpack off your shoulders and start to rummage through it and pull out the book he had loaned you. 

You take a few tentative steps towards his large oak desk and place the book down and slide it towards him, “Thank you, Sir,” you say before looking up at him, “I hope the essay was up to your standard.”

Dave looks at the book and then he slides his eyes up your body to look into yours. Embarrassment and shame shine in them, like a beacon to anyone who knows what to look for. His brow lifts and he taps the cover. “Did you find anything useful in there?” He asks huskily.

You take a small step backwards and give him a slight nod, “Yes, Professor York,” you say quietly before thanking him for loaning you the book.

He huffs, shaking his head and leans back in his chair, rocking it slightly. “Call me Dave.” He orders. “You can talk to me about anything here. You had said you are…sheltered.”

“I-uh, grew up in the church,” you say before pulling on your sleeve, “My father is a clergyman and my Mom met him through bible study here at St Brennans.”

You sit down on the seat next to you and continue pulling at your sleeves, “Hard not to be sheltered when your parents don’t let you think for yourself.”

“Hmmmm.” Dave nods, aware of your background and he tilts his head down so that he looks at you from under his lids. “And after reading the book last night, did you touch yourself?”

You feel heat rising in your cheeks at his question, the urge to run for the door and back to your dorm flooded through you before you finally gave a noncommittal shrug.

With your eyes focusing solely on your hands in your lap and your voice barely higher than a whisper you reply, “I… I tried.”

“You….tried…” Dave huffs and shakes his head, enjoying your frustration. He waits a beat and lets you stew. “Spread your legs. Right now.” He orders you. “Show me your panties.”

A shocked giggle falls from your lips, “Sorry?” you ask, convinced you must have misheard what he said… there is no way.

Dave huffs again, leaning forward and bracing his arm on his desk. “Show. Me. Your. Panties.” He orders slowly. “Now.” He can tell you heard him the first time, but he’s enjoying the way your eyes widen with shock. No one has ever told you to spread your legs before and he likes that.

You know he heard it, the way your breath hitched before you swallowed hard. You don’t know why but you can’t bring yourself to say no to this man, all you want to do is please him. 

So you slowly reach down and wrap your fingertips down on your hemline, slowly pulling up your regulated uniform skirt, inch by inch.

His eyes darken, pupils expanding as you slip your skirt up over your skin. Revealing the innocent white of the plain cotton panties. “Spread your legs.” He orders, voice deeper - almost growling.

You immediately comply, your hands coming down and resting on your thighs as you pray he can’t see the damp patch on your panties.

You feel yourself squirm against the seat as your professor silently stares at you from across his desk.

His cock presses against his trousers and he breathes out slowly, feeling the tension mounting in the room as you wait for him to react. “You’re wet, aren’t you, little girl?”

The word gets lodged in your throat and you can only just bring yourself to nod. Heat courses through your veins as you get more and more flustered under his stare.

“Mmmhmmm.” Dave lets the silence settle, listening to you breathe. Letting you watch him stare at your panties, imagining the sweet, untouched cunt underneath. He wonders if you shave or trim. Probably think it’s sinful to do so. His eyes flicker back up to your wide ones. “Come here.”

A shaky breath fills the room as you slowly stand up, the material of your skirt falling back down beneath your knees as you take a very slow step towards him. Each step feels heavy with anticipation as you round his desk and make your way in front of him.

“Good girl.” He can see the way that your skin is raised in goosebumps and he turns in his chair to face you, to let you see the bulge in his slacks where he is straining against them. “Since you couldn’t finish yourself-“ Dave smirks and glances down at your now covered panties. “Do you want me to show you how? To touch yourself, how you should be touched?” He asks softly. “To see how you should be creaming those panties of yours?”

Your thighs press tightly against each other as you squeeze your eyes shut. Each word dripping from his mouth seems to go straight to that bundle of nerves that you briefly touched last night.

His words replay over in your head, as a whole bunch more from other people crash into the forefront of your brain, ‘satan's doorbell… god is ALWAYS watching… it’s a test from the lord himself, one he gave us all to see if we could resist temptation and remain on the path with the righteous…’

You were a good girl, you knew what path your parents expected you to take and you knew that you were at this specific college for a specific reason but you couldn’t help it, the word drifted from your lips so effortlessly, it put up no resistance and it bounced off the walls so perfectly, “yes.”

Exhaling slowly, a grin of triumph crosses his face, reaching out slowly and taking hold of your side to pull you towards him. Spreading his legs wide to let you step between them, he savours the moment. Right now you are still innocent. Never having felt the touch of a man and it will be him that touches you. “Good girl.” He groans. “I’m going to teach you to enjoy it. It’s going to feel so good, baby girl. Show me your panties again.”

You begin to inch up your skirt again, quicker this time, your hands trembling with nerves as you bunch the plaid material up just above the little pink bow on the front of your panties.

Dave hums, his fingers sliding over your waist to grip it and he leans forward, pressing his aquiline nose against your untouched cunt and inhales, drinking in the scent of your arousal.

You gasp as you feel the heat of his breath coat your panties, your hands grip the edge of his desk as you attempt to hold yourself still. 

You look down at him and see his eyes burning up into yours as a devilish smirk engulfs his face, without another word he takes a deep inhale.

“Innocent.” He murmurs to himself. “You should always wear white panties.” He says louder, sliding his finger along the edge. “Only white.”

“I would do anything you say,” you reply, lost in the haze and the spell he has you under.

For the first time in your life, you are letting the want that you had become an expert in repressing free. Your mouth wasn’t echoing the words that had been placed there by other people, it was freeing the ‘yeses’ and the soft sweet noises that always threatened to choke you as you swallowed them down dry.

Dave is pleased, turning you around and pulling you down onto his lap. Letting the hardness of his cock press against your ass. “Good girl.” He coos into your ear, hands sliding up your thighs. “Open for me, little girl. Let daddy rub your clit for you.”

You’re so pliant for him, and you let him mould your body onto his. You feel yourself flush when you feel the hardness of his cock against your ass, you wonder what it looks like… whether he’ll show you or tell you to touch it.

You spread your legs and bury your teeth into your bottom lip as his fingers brush against the waistband of your panties.

“Hmmm so warm.” He teases, feeling the heat radiating off of you. He knows you’ve stared at his hands, he watched you today in class. So you are visualising it as your eyes close. “Ah, ah, ah.” He chides. “Eyes open for daddy, little girl. You enjoy me touching your little pussy.”

You open your eyes and look down at his fingers pushing into your panties, your legs widening as he pushes lower. Arousal is dripping out of your slit and down your legs and part of you is nervous about how he’ll react to just how wet you already are.

Dave groans into your ear, fingers sliding through your shorter curls and he cups your cunt possessively, feeling how you soak his palm. Your little mewl of bewilderment and pleasure spurs him on. “You should have called me last night.” He whispers into your ear, circling your folds with his finger. “I would have shown you then so you didn’t have to go to bed so worked up. Poor, innocent thing. Daddy would have taken care of you.”

Words continue to fail you as soft moans slip out through your pretty mouth, you can’t put into words how good it feels but you know you never want him to stop. 

You never knew it could feel this good, you had allowed yourself to gently press your fingers across your clit a few times but it never felt this good.

Dave moans in your ear when he finally touches your clit. That responsive little button that makes you jump in his arms and a soft moan pour out of your lips. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” He hums, his hand moving your panties as he starts rubbing your clit.

“Don’t stop,” you whimper as he lights the most delicious flame in your core, his thick digits getting to know your body better than you do, better than you ever have.

“I’m not going to.” He chuckles in your ear. “Not until this pussy is spasming for me. Cumming all over these panties.”

Your hips start rocking as his fingers rub perfect circles into your clit, your neck rolls back as pleasure pumps throughout your whole body. You feel your nipples harden and your pelvic muscles clench as he continues his delicious assault on your body. 

“Please,” you start to murmur over and over again, not quite surely what you’re begging for but finding yourself unable to stop.

“Shhhhhhh shhhhhh.” Dave shushes you, knowing that the school wouldn’t be happy if he was found with his hand in a student’s panties. Although that was some of the thrill. “Just let daddy take care of you. You’re gonna cum, sweet girl. All over my hand, aren’t you? Your pussy’s gonna feel so good.”

His finger presses harder, makes tighter circles and he wants to cup your tits but there’s time for that later. He’ll show you how to play with your tits and soak your panties from playing with your nipples alone. He has so many plans for you.

You feel something glorious build inside of you, it’s almost overwhelming but at the same time you want more. The metallic taste of blood floods your tastebuds and you dig your teeth so hard into your lower lip that it draws blood.

He plays your body so effortlessly, ripping pleasure from you like it was what he was made to do. Soft whimpers escape you and the sound of his fingers rubbing against yours soaking wet pussy fills the room. 

“Do you hear that?” he grunts in your ear and you just moan his name in response, “Daaave.”

His pace on your clit becomes faster and faster as your moans become breathier and breathier, “Oh my G—” you start to gasp, but he grabs you by the jaw and silences you, gritting in your ear that the only person's name you’re allowed to moan is his.

Dave watches you, keeping his fingers moving over your clit. “You gonna cum for me?” He asks harshly.

You whimper a small moan in response, feeling the band you didn’t know that existed inside of you grow more and more taunt; the band ready to snap inside of you.

And then he stops… “Use. Your. Words.” He punches out in short sharp breaths.

“Yes sir,” You moan out, ready to beg him to move his fingers again.

Dave waits a few beats, letting you calm down to the point where he will have to wind you up again. You whimper and he chuckles, starting to rub your clit again slowly.

Your thighs start to shake, and you start to tremble as you chant his name. “I’m gon- I think- I” you stutter out before your body begins to convulse, his words become incoherent as white explodes behind your eyes and pleasure rips throughout your body.

His fingers keep rubbing those perfect circles into you as you come down from your high, the overstimulation makes you wince and you place your hand over the top of his, “Dave,” you murmur, unsure what you’re trying to say.

His cock is throbbing against your ass and he hums, finally taking mercy on you and pulling his fingers out of your panties. His finger is coated in your slick and he smirks, knowing you will be scandalized when he tastes you.

You watch with wide eyes as he sinks his fingers that are dripping with your arousal in his mouth. ‘Oh’ you mumble as he closes his eyes as he sucks every last drop of your arousal clean from his fingers.

“How do I taste?” you whisper as he opens his eyes and slowly removes his fingers with a loud pop.

“Sweet.” Dave smirks, sliding his hand back into your panties to gather more. “Like honey. Do you want to taste, little girl? Taste your own pussy?”

You shake your head, “I-uh- I should go.”

Frowning, Dave pulls back slightly and pins you with a searching stare. “You don’t have to go.” He is annoyed that you want to leave and his hand cups your cunt again. “Stay.”

“I can’t,” you whisper, looking away from and trying to keep the shame that’s threatening to consume you at bay, “I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Dave huffs, pulling his hand out of your panties and he drops his other from your waist. “Fine.” His tone drops flat, no emotion in it.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur as you scramble to your feet.

Dave calls your name sharply. Watching as you slowly turn around and face him. Mortification is written on your face and he lifts a brow. “Leave your panties.”

“What?” you choke out, “What do you mean?” you feel yourself getting flustered under his stare, “I have my first bible study in a half hour… I don’t have time to go back to my dorm and get another pair.” 

“Then go without.” Dave tells you, smirking slightly.

“You want me to… to give you my panties?” you ask again.

“Yes.” He frowns at you. “Are you having a hard time understanding me? Take off your panties and put them in my hand.”

You nod your head a few times before hiking up your skirt and gripping on the waistband of your panties, your fingers linger against the elastic for a few seconds before you begin to roll them down past your thighs and push them down until they pool at your feet. You step out of them and quickly bend down to collect them, your fingers brushing against the damp patch as you begin walking back over to Dave and placing them in his outstretched hand.

“Good girl.” Dave coos, rubbing his thumb over the wet spot and looking down to see the cream you’ve smeared over the liner. “Now you can go.”

“Oh-okay,” you stutter as you stumble towards the door, “Goodbye Mr Yo— Dave.”

You close the door behind you, and you swallow hard. Trying not to draw any attention to yourself as you make your way through the busy hall and onto your bible study session.

The urge to keep walking past the door as you approach the library that your study is being held in boils in your tummy, but you figure that it’s best not to miss your first session. So you brush down your uniform and plaster your kindest smile across your face as you make your way over to the table that has your study group number on it.

A few students are already sitting on the table, engaging in small talk as you approach. You wait until they’ve finished chatting before telling them your name and taking a seat. Pressing your legs together as tightly as you can as you pull your chair under the table. 

The session goes by pretty quickly. One of the girls insisted that everyone share their favourite passages and then quizzed them as to why. You fight the urge to roll your eyes at her, you recognize her as the overeager girl from Professor York's class.

You say your goodbyes as the session nears an end but not before scribbling down the proposed date of your next meeting.

Just as you start to head out you hear her call your name and this time you do roll your eyes.

“You’re in Professor York's class right?” she asks whilst looking you up and down, “He’s a little… intense, right? I heard that as the weeks go on the amount of people that survive his teaching method gets smaller and smaller.”

“Oh,” you reply, attempting to sound interested, “Good to know I guess.” 

“Yeah,” she says with a smirk, “I just think sometimes it’s best for certain people to drop out before it becomes clear when a professor is clearly too… blunt for what they can handle. Just some friendly advice. See you Friday.”

You scoff at her as she pushes on ahead of you and you shake your head thankful the day is over and feeling ready to get back to your dorm, eat dinner and have an early night. 

It has been an interesting day to say the least.

*

Dave picks up his phone, reaching up to take his reading glasses off and give his eyes a break as he sees the notification from a number already programmed into his phone. Your number. 

Opening the text, he smirks. It’s a picture. One that was obviously taken by someone who isn’t used to shoving a phone between their thighs. A skirt is rolled up, showing off the wet and glistening lips of a sweet pussy, clit engorged. Groaning, Dave reaches down and palms his cock, knowing he will jerk off to it later. 

Fingers hovering over the keyboard to text back, he pauses. You had disappointed him today. So there will be no reply to the pretty little picture he got.

*

You wake with a groan, you had spent half the night tossing and turning and checking your phone to see if you had a response to the phone you made the rash decision to send. 

You didn’t get one last night and the only notification on your display was a text from Mom with some random bible quote on a sunset background.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to wallow in the guilt that kept attempting to rear its ugly head and you knew that by responding to her message that you wouldn’t be able to repress those feelings, so you elected to ignore it and get ready for a shower.

The breakfast hall was bustling, you were running late after having an extra long shower and made the decision to swing by and grab a to go coffee and muffin to fuel you until lunch.

For the second time in your life you were fighting the urge to skip, yesterday bible study and today Dave's lecture.

It was clear he wasn’t happy with you after leaving yesterday, and the lack of response to the photograph makes you think that he wasn’t impressed with that either.

Dave wonders what you are thinking, what you are doing, as he gathers his papers from his office to make his way across campus to his lecture hall. Stepping out into the hall and pulling the door closed, he has his key in the lock. “Professor York!” He groans to himself as the sound of the perky and high pitched voice of the blonde in the same class as you. “Professor York, so glad I caught you!”

Turning, Dave plasters a smile on his face. Trying to place a name to her and blanking for a few moments before it comes to him. “Deandra Hall, right?” Her giggle makes him nearly roll his eyes but he lets himself seem happy in her response. “What can I do for you?”

“I have a few questions that I was hoping to get answers for before your lecture today.” The laughably coy attempt to flutter her lashes at him is almost insulting but Dave is struck by inspiration. 

“Walk with me to class and we can talk.” He suggests, finishing locking the door to his office and slipping the key into his pocket. If this goes well, he should be in for an entertaining class today.

*

You sip your coffee as you round the corner on your way to class, keeping the pace with your fellow peers and trying to remain cool about seeing Dave for the first time since the… incident.

And then you spot them. 

Dave and little miss ‘friendly advice’ walking together, clearly engaged in conversation and it makes you feel sick. She makes no effort to conceal the way she’s batting her eyelashes at him, her hand resting on his arm as they walk into the room together.

You linger for a few moments before deciding to enter the lecture hall, hoping that the room was already filling up with your classmates and he’d be addressing everyone and not still engaging in chat with… her.

Dave knows the moment you walk in, but he doesn’t look up. Making it appear like he is engaged in a very involved conversation. Even though he is barely able to keep himself from asking her to go to her seat. 

She’s flirting. He realised that about five seconds after they had started walking to the lecture hall. She has a crush on him and is trying to figure out how to get close. 

He’s not interested. At all. The only reason he was still talking to her is because it would be rude to cut her off when she’s asking questions about class. That and to see how you react.

Jealousy is not a feeling that you’re used to. You’d grown accustomed to the fact that some things were just not meant for you. At a young age you’d learned that there was no point crying over not receiving the barbie doll that you’d been eyeing up in the store on Christmas day because that’s how life worked. Sure it stung when you were the only girl in your class not able to join in with the games they played but you learned to keep envy locked away in a box. 

But you could feel the way it burned on your face, the green eyed monster that you were sure you had locked up in a box with the key nowhere to ever be found; had not only made an appearance but had twisted itself around you and made itself well known from the expression on your face alone.

So you made the decision to sit in a different spot than you had in the past few days and hoped the cover of darkness would mean that Professor York wouldn’t be able to see how irritated you were.

Throughout the lesson you sat and stewed, wondering if you really had any right to be jealous at all, as he’d never offered you anything other than an orgasm. One he gave to you in the most spectacular fashion, but you don’t know what this is, you weren’t even sure if this was something at all.

Dave smiles after he suggests that Deandra takes her seat, finally getting her to shut up for a moment and looks around the hall. 

At first he doesn’t spot you, the seat you had chosen empty and he rocks his jaw before he looks up towards the back. Finding you huddled into a corner and staring down at your notebook like it was the focus of your ire. Good.

“Envy.” He announces loudly, making your head pop up. “Tell me about it.”

You groan and sink down into your seat, ‘Of course,’ you think to yourself as you start scribbling in your notebook.

The room starts to fill with the sounds of multiple students offering up their answers and examples.

Dave is amused looking around the room and noticing how you will not look up. Someone is jealous. 

“Envy comes in many forms. Coveting or greatly desiring someone’s possession. Even their time.” He lectures. “Being jealous of your friend or boyfriend spending time with others is envy.” He smirks as he looks at the shocked faces around the lecture hall as they absorb that information.

You refuse to look up, you refuse to give him a prime example of envy by the expression etched across your face alone. ‘Is it too late to transfer to another class?’ you think to yourself as he engages in a back and forth with a student about why they’re convincing envy with something else.

“Deandra, you have something to add?” Dave barely keeps from rolling his eyes at the insistent girl waving her arm to be recognized like she is still in grade-school, but he acknowledges her.

“Yes, Professor,” she remarks and you can hear the smugness in her voice, “Envy can manifest itself in many ways. Jealousy being most common… like someone maybe noticing an obvious attraction between two peo—” he cuts her off with a shake of his head and asks the class for an example that hasn’t already been shared.

He looks around, eyes settling on you and he calls your name. You have barely looked up but now every head in the hall turns towards you. “You had some good insight with lust.” He says mildly. “What are your thoughts on envy?”

He knows you know what he is doing and there is a challenge in his eyes as he waits.

“I-uh, well.. it’s a sin… obviously,” you say after staring at him silently for a few seconds, “But it’s also an emotion. Something we are all capable of expressing and in my personal opinion the hardest of the sins to not commit. We are not always in charge of how we are feeling and how others make us feel.” You put an emphasis behind the word and end the sentence by slightly raising your eyebrow.

After a few seconds of silence, you decide to add a final thought… “But my personal honest thoughts on envy? I don’t believe something we are unable to control, like an emotion, should be considered a sin.”

“Interesting.” Dave praises, nodding in agreement as he holds eye contact with you for another moment before looking around the hall. “Everyone agree? Envy is an emotion that is uncontrollable?”

“No,” comes out of the shrillest voice in the room, “I disagree, Professor York. If we all exhibit the restraint the Lord has blessed us with, we can control anything.”

You scoff loudly, and feel every eye in the room find its way on you, “Really, Deandra? You think that you can pray away emotional responses?”

Dave tsks, shaking his head. “Even thinking about it would be considered a sin by the scriptures, wouldn’t you agree? So involuntarily the sin is committed.”

“We all sin.” Deandra intones piously. “The point is that we should strive to realise that none of us belong to this place. We are of God.”

You roll your eyes at her righteousness and take a little bit too much enjoyment in Dave’s obvious lack of patience with her.

“Except no one can be God.” Dave reminds her. “To suggest that is blasphemy and sin itself. We are discussing these things now to have a better understanding later on in the semester. Not to start tallying ‘Hail Marys’ in confession.”

‘No one can be God’… his words repeat in your head over and over as your mind drifts back to what he did to you less than 24 hours ago.

You suppress a chuckle as you look down at the man in front of you. He’s right. ‘No one can be a God’, but he’s taught you that people are capable of making you feel godly things. 

During the remainder of the lesson and the way you hear him discuss sin with such nonchalance, you realise that he’s definitely not a God fearing man.

And this realisation makes you fear that he’s capable of things that’ll make you test your faith in the man himself. And with all the discussion of sin going on around you, you think that might be the biggest sin you could ever commit.

The lecture winds down and Dave grins when he notices the range of emotions on the faces of his students. Making them think beyond Bible verses or catechisms is what he is paid to do, although he pushes the boundaries of what the college had in mind when they created his department. “Tonight, your assignment is to write about envy. Personal experience and what you did about it.”

You scribble down the assignment, you weren’t sure what you were going to write, but you had a feeling that you could cook something up without going to him for help this time.

Still you linger for a few moments after your classmates start to exit the hall. Hoping that he’ll call you down for a talk, maybe discuss the photo from last night… or touch you again. But he doesn’t, you watch as he doesn’t throw a second glance in your direction and simply walks out.

Dave can feel your eyes on his back as he walks out. Wondering if he will get a visit from you during office hours but he doubts it. He’s sure you will be stubborn  and he hums to himself as he swings his keys in his hand. He would rather have you in his lap again, making another mess of your panties while he makes you cum.

*

The rest of the day goes by in a bit of a blur, you had two double periods and you made the effort to eat at the cafeteria rather than alone before popping out to buy some essentials and a few bits to make your dorm feel a little more homely. 

You finally make it back to your room and immediately get to work on a few assignments, purposely leaving the one for Professor York's class until last.

With a warm cup of hot chocolate in your hand you open up your diary to the page with Dave’s assignment scribbled down. 

‘A personal experience with envy’ - you had many but it was the next part that you struggled with ‘and what you did about it.’

‘Mhmm,’ you sigh out loud as you recount a few times where you felt envious for a moment before you put it in that box and moved on. But that’s not what he’d want to hear. You know he’d find that boring, you know that he wouldn’t be impressed or he’d make you rewrite it. So you thought for a little longer, going as far to jot down a few ideas… maybe you could write about something you’d wanted to do? Before you stored it away. No. He’d see right through that. 

Your mind drifts back to him and how good he looked today, wearing a light grey suit; light enough that if you were to have been touched again by him that your arousal would have left an obvious wet patch on his pants.

'Ugh’, you grumble again. You think of the way your heart stopped when you saw him round that corner… and saw her obviously trying to gain his attention in more ways than just one… by batting her lashes and running her fingers up one of his arms as they walked together. 

You wonder if he’d touch her like he touched you yesterday, you wonder if he touched her instead of you today and you feel sick at the thought of it. You feel jealousy bubble up in your stomach and consume your entire body. 

‘Fuck,’ you curse as you slam the lid of your laptop down, ‘I wonder if she’d still be giving me friendly advice to drop out of his class if she knew…’

And that’s when it hits you. The little button of pleasure roaring to life with a pulse that you couldn’t ignore. 

You hitch your skirt up over your waist and start pulling your panties down without a second's hesitation, before you start desperately trying to mimic the movements he made on the day previous. It feels good, you can’t deny it, but it doesn’t feel as good as he made you feel.

‘Dave,’ you mumble as you squeeze your eyes shut, imagining it’s his thick digits playing that part of you so effortlessly and having you whimper and gasp for air as he pulls something glorious from you. And then you imagine her, stone faced and furious, sitting across his desk as he takes you to a whole new level of pleasure as she desperately tries to steal his attention from you.

“Good girl,” he’d whisper over and over in your ear, drowning out her incessant pleas for him to notice her with every drip of praise he covered you in. She’d only shut her mouth and get up and leave after realising you’re all that he can see, and after watching him clean his fingers with his tongue as you attempt to regain your composure after he makes you cum with a loud scream of his name.

…And that’s when a burst of hot white pleasure explodes behind your eyes, and for the first time ever, you’d reached completion with your own sinful hands.

You lay there for a few minutes listening to your own shaky breaths, before sitting up and pulling your laptop open; before you have time to change your mind you start to type out ‘a personal experience with envy’, one that would end up with your fingers dripping in arousal.

*

In his own home, Dave taps his pen against the stack of papers as he looks at his phone. Like he had predicted, you hadn’t shown up for office hours. Leaving him to look at the panties you had soiled yesterday and open his phone to look at the picture of your sweet little pussy again. 

His cock twitches as he imagines if you had come. Making you sit on his desk and spread your legs so he could taste you. Watch your eyes flutter while you have your pussy licked for the first time.  Pulling his aching cock out of his pants and watching your eyes widen in curiosity and fear. You would want to touch him but be resistant. 

Blowing out a breath, he snatches up the phone and starts typing. ‘No visual aids tonight?’

*

The sound of your phone buzzing on your nightstand makes you jump, you pick it up and your jaw drops at the notification on your homepage. 

You open the message and read it back a few times, contemplating what to say or whether to send him another picture. 

‘Didn’t think they were your thing.’ You punch back before hitting send.

Dave smirks, admiring the sass you seem to have with the impersonality of a phone between you. Chuckling, he types out a response. ‘Why would you think that?’

'Lack of response? You acting like it never happened? You flirting with Little Miss Southern Belle. Thought maybe she had stolen your attention... Should I keep going?’ You type back with a grin on your face.

Shaking his head, Dave feels the thrill of victory flooding his veins, making his cock even harder. ‘There’s jealousy in those words, little girl. And here I thought you would have come to me for help since you are a good girl.’

You scoff at his audacity. ‘For help? Do you mean for the essay that I have already completed?’

Part of you is tempted to take a photo of your glistening pussy, your cum has made your pussy lips and the tops of thighs shine. 

Just as you get ready to start spreading your legs to snap a shot for his eyes only, you see the text bubble appear on your screen.

‘Send it to me now.’

Dave sits back and unbuckles his belt, needing relief. His cock is throbbing and he’s got your panties laying on his desk, taunting him.

‘Dave, I haven’t edited it yet…’ you reply, a white lie but you’re not 100% sure you were actually ever going to hand this one in.

‘I don’t give a shit about grammar and spelling.’ Dave immediately sends back, eager to see your envy.

‘Oh,’ you groan before immediately attaching the file and sending it to him.

You’re unsure whether to switch off your phone and run from what you’ve done or be brave and wait out a reply… if one comes.

Dave smirks when his email pings and he sets his phone down to pick up his glasses. Wondering if you will squirm as you wait for his response.

Starting to read it his cock throbs, aching for relief as he visualises your words. Bringing the scene to life.

He gives in, pushing back from his desk just enough so he can pull his cock out and spits in his hand. Needing to find some relief since you will not come over and let him touch you like he wants.

‘What is taking so long?’ you think to yourself as the seconds stretch into minutes and time seemingly comes to a standstill.

Dave smirks as he sends the message to you. Wondering what you will think when you get the picture he had just taken, he stands up to go wash his hands.

‘Oh my,’ you mumble as you look at the picture on your screen.  The same thick digits that were pressed against you yesterday, covered in a pearly white liquid. ‘Is that your seed?’ you text back feeling slightly flushed. With a weird feeling in your stomach making want to taste the shiny liquid.,

Seed. He snorts when he reads the word and imagines how flustered you look right now. ‘Yes. It’s my cum. Or ‘seed’ as you call it. Had to jerk off thinking about your paper and looking at the picture of your pretty pussy.’

You feel heat flush in your face, ‘Can I see a photo of you? Your…?’ You type back quickly and wonder how he’ll react or if he’ll even reply.

He considers it. He really does. Even soft now that he’s cum, he’s still impressive as far as most men go. He can imagine you would gasp and wonder how he would look when he’s hard, but then he wants to see that. Wants to witness the curiosity being fulfilled. Instead of snapping a picture, Dave sends you a message back. ‘I’ll show you in person tomorrow. My office.’

‘Before or after class?’ you reply quickly, a little anxious that you sound overeager.

Smirking, Dave hesitates as he thinks about what would be best. ‘After. More time to….explore.’

‘See you then, Sir.’ You reply before plugging your phone into your charger and settling down to sleep.

*

The next morning, Dave dresses with care, shaving his face smooth and making sure that he had trimmed his pubic hair nearly. Knowing that you are going to see a man’s penis for the first time has him eager to get through the class and to his office hours. 

Humming to himself as he dresses and puts on his favourite cologne. He wonders if you slept last night or if you touched yourself again. He has no doubt that your paper was real. You had made yourself cum and he chuckles to himself. He will have to ask you which one you preferred. His fingers or yours.

*

The morning begins with a phone call from your Mom, guilt dripping from your face as you watch the phone ring out.

You promise yourself you’ll call your parents at the weekend before climbing out of bed and making your way to the showers. 

You make an extra effort this morning and whilst you may have been shielded from certain things, you know how to keep yourself tidy and fresh. You wonder if today he’ll touch you again, or if it’ll be your turn to touch him. 

You think about the pearly liquid from the photo he sent you and wonder how it feels… how it tastes before chiding yourself and throwing yourself into getting ready for the day. 

You remember what he said about the white panties and reach for a new pair, cotton with some frill around the edges.

*

Every morning Dave stops for coffee on his way to his lecture hall. The cart in the quad makes a roast that he enjoys and despite what people might think of him, he likes his coffee sweet. Three pumps vanilla, one pump salted caramel with sweet cream foam. He smirks to himself as he purchases another one for a lucky student and whistles as he walks through the hustling students.

The lecture hall is almost full when you arrive, you settle down in your original seat and get your things ready.

You glance around the room and notice that Professor York still hasn’t arrived.

You notice that a few seats near the front of the class are open and consider moving closer but don’t want to look too desperate, so you decide to stay where you are.

The room continues to fill as you wait for your professor to arrive, anticipation building up in your stomach as the seconds tick by.

Dave strolls into the lecture hall and sets the coffee cup directly in the middle of his desk and looks up at the students, making sure that he doesn’t make eye contact with you. 

“The first one who recites First Corinthians, Chapter 3 Verse 3 gets this coffee.” He tells the calls. “It’s exactly how I drink my coffee everyday and it’s delicious.”

About twelve hands including yours immediately shoot up, waiting for him to call on one of you. You watch as he scours the room, seemingly taking in everyone but you.

It’s tempting to call on Deandra, not because he actually wants to hear her voice but to watch you seethe in jealousy. In the end, he doesn’t and chooses a boy who looks like he’s probably never gotten laid before. “You- blue shirt, red hat. What’s your name?”

“Patrick,” he stutters before going ahead and attempting to recite the verse, Daves intense stare boring into him is enough to make him lose focus and fuck it up spectacularly.

You raise your hand again as Dave gives Patrick a small nod, and looks around for the next person to call on.

“You, third row.” He calls out to a pretty brunette. She’s not his type, but he’s pretty damn sure you don’t know what his type is. “Snoopy T-shirt.”

“Sarah,” she responds quickly, she perfectly recites the verse without so much as a stutter and you hate the way he immediately floods her with praise. Your stomach knotting at the way he calls her a good girl and inviting her out of her seat to collect her coffee. He says something so only she can hear and you feel blinded with jealousy.

“Does anyone understand what that means?” Dave asks, looking around the room and barely glancing at you before he’s on to another person.

You can’t help the way your mouth twists at him overlooking you for a second time, you’re certain he peered in your direction this time, so you’re unsure why he completely dismissed you.

“Anyone?” Dave looks disappointed in the class and tsks quietly. “Okay then, switching topics. Someone tell me their story of envy. We aren’t in confession, self reflection is good for the soul.”

You slowly lower your still raised hand as he looks around the room for people to offer up their stories and you know that there is no way you can share yours, so you sink down into your seat and start to second guess whether he wants to see you afterwards or not.

Dave calls on a boy who introduces himself as David, sounding proud of the fact that he has the same name as his professor. Boring Dave to death with a story about some action figure he had wanted as a boy that all of his friends got for Christmas but his own parents denied him and lectured him on Christmas Day for being disappointed or covetous. He had 'borrowed' the figure from a friend to play with after going back to school and it had caused him to be jealous and resentful. 

"Okay. Good story." This class is very sheltered and Dave reminds himself that he is supposed to be accepting of that fact. He moves into the other religious uses of envy throughout the Bible and other texts. The college doesn't like him teaching anything but Christianity at a Catholic college but it is used to reinforce the 'envy is bad' theory that he is teaching.

The rest of the class drags by unbelievably slowly, Dave seemingly boring himself as he recites and instructs people to read from the required textbooks now in front of you all.

You find yourself intensely watching the clock and rolling your eyes at how painfully slow it ticks by.

When you aren’t looking, Dave studies you. Watching as you try to concentrate but it’s clear that you are thinking about something else.

The butterflies in your tummy are getting harder and harder to ignore as the end of lesson approaches, he has gone out of his way to ignore you this whole lesson. ‘Maybe he’s changed his mind’ you think to yourself, maybe he wants someone more experienced.

The rest of the lesson is spent on a quick quiz and jotting down the texts Professor York expects us to memorise for tomorrow's lesson. He asks for the papers on envy to be turned in and seeing as you emailed yours, you didn’t have a physical copy to hand. You loiter for a few moments, noticing how he doesn’t even glance in the direction you’re in and you feel another stroke of unease flood through you.

Dave waits until you leave before he starts to gather up his papers, shoving them in the leather satchel he carries and quickly makes his way out of the lecture hall. Eager to get to his office and have you arrive.

You don’t know whether to make your way to his office, or just slip back to your room. You find yourself slowly making your way down the hallway, stopping at every cabinet or plaque. The temptation to run to your dorm room and hide under the safety of your blankets grows stronger, but the desperation to feel his fingers on your skin and his breath of neck beats it out.

You stand silently for a few moments, weighing up the options in your head and then you feel the vibrations of your phone in your skirt pocket.

Dave frowns down at his phone, he had halfway expected to have you waiting outside his office. ‘I don’t like to be kept waiting.’

‘Fuck’ you mouth, as you quickly punch out ‘I’m coming’ and make your way as quickly as you can to his office without actually running.

Your hand forms a fist the second his door is in sight and you as soon as you can reach it, you gently knock the door three times.

Dave takes a minute before he calls for you to enter. He knows it’s you. Watching you slip inside, he smirks. “Lock the door behind you.”

Your heart is in your stomach and somehow your stomach is in your throat. You can’t find the words to greet him, so instead you politely nod and turn back to lock the door.

With shaky fingers you fumble with the lock before slowly turning back around and straightening out the front of your uniform.

Something tells you to stay still and wait to be called over. Like an unspoken rule that as soon as the lock has clicked shut that he is in control.

“Show me your panties.” Dave smirks slightly, repeating the last time you were in this office. “Are they wet, or are you unaffected today?”

You stay rooted to the spot, reaching down to pull on your skirt, hoisting them up just over the elastic on your panties. You know he can see your thighs shiny with your arousal, so you don’t need to answer his question verbally.

“Interesting.” Dave tears his eyes away from your thighs to drag them up to your embarrassed orbs. He sees curiosity fighting to get through, under the layers of repressed religion. “Did you touch yourself thinking about my cum?” He asks, leaning back and watching you.

“No,” you admit honestly, “I almost did it in the shower this morning, but it doesn’t feel as good as when you did it.”

He chuckles at your admission, nodding as if he knew that would be the case. “I’ll make sure you feel good any time you want.” He promises. “There are so many other ways to feel even better. So many ways.”

“Yeah?” you ask quietly, still waiting for him to give you permission to move closer or take a seat, “How so?”

“My fingers inside you.” He lifts his hand and curls two fingers slowly. “My tongue on your pretty pussy. My cock.”

You feel your cheeks burn at the gesture he makes, as well as the filth he so effortlessly speaks. Your thighs automatically squeeze together and your clit pulses at the thought of his tongue on you, you had heard about this before in a magazine you had once taken a glance in at the doctors office. Your mother had seen the title of the magazine in your hand a few minutes later and immediately ripped it from you.

“Can… Can I see it?” you whisper.

Dave drops one finger and crooks the remaining one towards you, motioning for you to come to him. “You want to see a man’s cock, little girl? My cock?” The cock in question twitches under his slacks when you nod shyly and he loves the way you shuffle forward as if you are pacing yourself. The innocence. “If you want to see it, you need to pull it out.” He challenges, just to see what you would do.

A little gasp breaks free of your lips as you realise what he’s asking you to do. You take a tentative step towards him and feel a mixture of guilt and excitement stir up in your tummy. 

A few seconds later you’re standing expectantly in front of him, you’re not sure if he wants you to do it with him sitting down or if he’ll stand. So you wait for instruction, your eyes flicking between the large bulge in his pants and his dark eyes.

“Nervous?” He rocks forward and stands, reaching out to cup your cheek. “Do you not want to? Should I show you this one time?”

“I want to,” you say innocently, “I just need some guidance.”

“I’ll make it easy on you.” Dave decides, dropping his hand from your cheek to his belt. There is the clinking of his buckle as he undoes it and flicks the button of his slacks open. “All you have to do is unzip.” He murmurs, having decided to not wear underwear today to shock your virgin sensibilities.

You try to hide the way your hand is trembling with nerves and anticipation, you slowly reach forward and let your fingers brush the material of his pants before you take one last look at him and gently reach for the zipper, slowly pulling it down.

You gasp loudly as his cock springs free, no underwear to contain it.

He’s hard, the head flushed to a deep red and there is just the beginnings of precum built up on the tip. It’s a silly thing to be proud of, but whatever doctor had done his circumcision at the hospital had done a good job. The head mushrooms perfectly and he bobs slightly under the weight now that he’s not confined.

A little moan escapes you as you look at it. The thickness makes your pussy clench as you wonder how something that thick could ever fit inside of you. The urge to reach out and touch it grows stronger the longer you look, but still you wait for instruction, unsure what he’s wanting you to do.

Dave wants to bite your bottom lip, take over nibbling on it. “You can touch it.” He urges, wanting to feel your hand around him. To be the first cock you touch.

Your eyes burn into his before you gently reach out and brush your fingertips over the length, before pulling away, embarrassment flooding you as you’re unsure exactly how to touch it.

Dave reaches out, grabbing your hand gently and opening your fingers so they wrap around him when he pulls it to his cock. Groaning when you curl your fingers around him and his cock pulses harshly in your grip. “That’s good, just like that.” He pants.

“Oh,” you gasp, “Show me how to make you feel good, Sir.”

His chuckle is dirty and he keeps his hand around yours as he starts to guide you. Helping you and watching your eyes widen as you feel the smooth skin move over the hardness beneath. “There you go.”

You keep your motions as steady as you can, flicking your wrist up and down and focusing on the way his breaths get slightly shakier as you keep going. You’re kneeling between his legs, crouched in a position that’s extremely familiar to you, but performing an act of depravity that you’d never imagined yourself doing less than a week after starting college.

“Stop.” Dave doesn’t want to cum from your hand, not just yet. You immediately stop and he flicks a bead of his precum off the tip and holds it up on his finger. “See what you do to me?”

The words leave your mouth before you have time to process you’re saying them, “I want to taste it.”

Dave smiles approvingly, like you just answered a question in class correctly. “Stick out your tongue, little girl.” He orders, wanting to stick his cock on your tongue, but his fluids will do for now.

You ignore the guilt rising in your stomach like bile for your role is the debauchery, and do as you’re commanded, shuffling forward and obediently sticking your tongue up, looking up at him through your lashes.

He hums, smearing his precum on your tongue and groaning when he pulls his finger away. Watching you as the taste expands on your tastebuds and he wants to give you more.

You let out a satisfied hum and squeeze your eyes shut as the taste of him explodes on your tongue, salty and a little bitter. You squeeze your thighs together as you feel your pussy start to drip with excitement.

“Sit on my desk.” Dave orders, wrapping his hand around his cock as he slowly starts to stroke himself again. “You want more, don’t you little girl?

“Yes, please,” you ask, with the same kind of politeness that falls from you as you’re standing in line for a sip of wine and a wafer at church. But this time desperately for something else to grace your lips.

He continues to stroke himself as you climb to your feet, turning around and pushing your butt onto the desk and pressing your knees together like a good girl. Standing, Dave lets go of his cock and uses his hand to spread your legs wide enough for him to stand between. “Close your eyes.” He orders, waiting until you’ve compiled to lean in, licking his lips before he presses them to yours.

The unexpected intrusion is not what you imagined, but you feel like you might cry if he pulls his lips from yours. He’s gentler than you’d expected, one hand resting on your thigh whilst the other gently grips the bottom of your jaw and guides your mouth.

Keeping it light for a long moment, he feels your surprise, then delight in the soft kiss. Feeling any resistance give way, Dave waits for the moment your lips part on a sigh to slowly slide his tongue into your mouth.

You breathe moans into his mouth as his lips envelope yours, his tongue dances across yours as his hold on your gets tighter. You follow his lead and gently press your tongue against his, before reaching up to touch his face as he continues to kiss and lick into your mouth.

He admits that he might have pushed it. Take the kiss too deep. Growling hungrily into your mouth and stroking your tongue with his harder makes you gasp and pull away. Leaving him breathing heavily and reminding himself that you are not used to this type of kissing.

“Sorry,” you murmur, worried you’d upset him by pulling back, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” Dave shakes his head and his hand comes back to your cheek, cupping it and giving you another moment. “I’m sure no one has kissed you like that before.”

“No one has ever… kissed me before,” you admit shyly, convinced the revelation is going to have you sent out of his office.

“Oh you innocent little thing.” Dave breathes out, cock twitching against your thigh and he just stares at you in wonder. You are perfect. Completely innocent and unbroken. “Did you like it?”

“I really liked it,” you say, unable to suppress the smile that’s spreading across your face, “I never imagined… I’d ever be doing this, but I can’t stay away.”

“Do you want me to kiss your lips?” Dave asks, a small smirk on his face.

“Yes, please,” you reply instantaneously.

Dave chuckles, leaning in and pressing his lips against yours briefly before he pulls back. “But I didn’t say which lips, little girl.” He teases. “Should I kiss your pussy? Make you feel even better than before?”

“Yes,” you choke out, “Yes I want you to tas—” Heat flooding your cheeks as you cut yourself off.

You take a deep breath and look him in the eye, taking in the amused look etched across his face, “I want you to taste my uh… my pussy,” you say with as much confidence as you can muster.

“Good girl.” Dave praises, giving you another kiss before he slides his hands up your thighs. “Lift your hips for me.” He urges, eager to get your panties off so he can debauch you further.

You lift your hips and he wastes no time freeing you off your panties. “Dave,” you moan as you feel his hot breath on your exposed core.

Chuckling, he turns his head and presses his tongue to the inner band of your thigh, just shy of your pussy but it allows his shaved smooth cheek to graze your swollen clit.

The noise that leaves you is drenched in sin, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from begging for more.

The answering sound is one meant to soothe you, making you wait while he explores. His eyes drinking in the sight of your pussy lips, soaked and your hair is trimmed. “Someone freshened up.” He coos teasingly, using his fingers to spread your lips wide. “So pretty.”

“For you,” you gasp out, somehow feeling his touch everywhere.

“Let me thank you then, baby girl.” He looks up at your eyes, wide with wonder when he lowers his mouth to your pussy.

“Ohhhhh,” you moan at feeling of his mouth on you, he starts gentle, his tongue gently lapping at your clit as you bring your hands up to cover your face.

Dave tuts, pulling his tongue away from your clit and you whine. “Let me see your face while I lick your pussy, little girl.” He orders quietly.

You groan at the loss of his mouth on you, before removing your hands from your face and letting them rest on the desk, wanting to tangle them in his hair.

“Good girl.” He winks at you. “Good girls get to cum on daddy’s face.”

“Oh, god,” you gasp out at him, “Yes, yes, please.”

“Yes please what?” He teases, loving how sweet you sound when you beg.

“Yes, please, daddy,” you reply barely above a whisper.

Dave huffs, pleased with the mixture of innocence and demand in your whispered plea. You have no idea how good it can feel but you want it. “Pull on my hair, baby girl. Daddy’s gonna take care of you.” He promises, diving back into your folds.

You want to scream out with how good it feels, his tongue ravishing your folds as he goes between sucking and licking you. 

“Oh, Dave,” you moan out as your fingers tangle up in his hair, pulling his face closer to your dripping pussy as you feel something extraordinary start to build up inside of you.

Dave curls his tongue around your clit and pulls the little bud into his mouth to suck on it. Groaning into you like a starved animal as the passes of his tongue get faster and more frantic.

The mouth is one of the wonders of the world you decide, as with every lap of his tongue he coaxes you into the kind of paradise that you’d been told only existed for the purest of hearts.

He spends a few moments concentrating solely on your clit and you feel your thighs begin to shake uncontrollably, every muscle and nerve ending inside of you suddenly becomes enriched with pleasure and then he groans… his arms wrapping around your thighs either tighter and the sounds coming deep from within his throat making it 10x more intense, you think you might stop breathing, you think you might scream… and then he stops. Lowering his mouth to lap up every drop of the arousal dripping from you.

He can hear the frustration in your gasp, smirking to himself as he licks his lips and spreads your thighs wider to watch your pussy pulse while your orgasm slowly fades away. “Give it a second.” He murmurs, feeling that you are about to ask a question.

“Please,” you beg mindlessly, repeating the word over and over continues to edge you. Bringing you closer and closer everything before releasing your clit from from his lips, “I-I can’t,” you whimper as he slowly moves his tongue back down to your entrance, this time slowly pushing it in and out, his groan reverberating against your core as you start to ache your back off of his desk.

It’s deliberate, the in and out of his tongue mimicking what his cock will do to your little pussy. Except he cannot get as deep as he would want to. His nose is butting up against your clit and he breathes into you, absorbing every little flutter your cunt makes, groaning when your walls start to pulse around his tongue. “Cum for daddy, little girl.” He pulls away to order before he plunges his tongue back into your velvety softness.

Your fingers entwined in his hair are almost vice-like, gripping so hard that you’re certain it must hurt. But you can’t do anything but shake and whimper as the coil inside of you finally snaps. You whimper and moan his name in a breathless chant as your whole body is flooded with what you can only describe as something euphoric. Each one of your senses is heightened and your body knows nothing but pleasure in that moment. He continues eating you like a man starved throughout your high, refusing to let up or reduce his ministrations.

Your breathy whimpers feed into him, making him throb as he licks and sucks up every drop of arousal that weeps from your pussy. He knows he’s stained the trousers he’s wearing and he doesn’t care, enraptured with your taste. This is true heaven, and he’s taken you there for the first time.

You gently push away his face, the overstimulation being too much as you catch your breath. He peppers a few kisses on your trembling thighs before standing up and over you.

Dave kisses you again, giving you the taste of yourself from his lips as he moves between your thighs, wanting to feel your slickness against his cock. Maybe even jerk off right there. Splattering his cum against your still virgin pussy. He groans as the first touch of his length against your puffy lips feels exquisite.

You feel your body seize up as he drags his cock through your folds, oh no you think to yourself as you imagine losing your virginity on the desk of a man who you’ve barely spoken to. A man who clearly doesn’t value the promises you made to God… “Oh,” you mumble out loud, “I can’t… We can’t do this,” you say as you push him away.

He says something to you that you can’t quite make out, you find yourself apologising profusely as you pull your skirt back down, grab your backpack and run towards the door, unlocking it without looking back and practically running down the hall, keeping the same pace all the way back to your dorm.

Dave stares at the door for a long moment after you’ve left. In your panicked state, you’ve left behind another pair of panties and apparently didn’t hear him when he said he wasn’t going to take your virginity. Huffing to himself, he grabs your panties and wraps them around his fist, sitting down in his chair again to jerk off.

You kick off your shoes and set the chain on your door before throwing yourself under your covers. It hasn’t even been a week since you left home and you’re already unrecognisable to yourself.

You know your parents are mad at you after glancing through the family group chat and seeing that they’ve been informed that you���ve not gone to evening mass once since arriving at college. You should have figured they’d have been in contact with the local priest and checking up on you.

After spending an hour considering going to church and repenting or reading through your favourite passages for respite, you decide that what you really need is a nap. So you snuggle down, and get comfortable in bed.

Switching your phone off and letting yourself have a much needed cry before drifting off to sleep.

Dave works, checking his phone and he considers texting you, but he doesn’t. Sensing that it would be the wrong move, he wonders if he was mistaken. If you were too innocent. It didn’t seem like you were when you were flooding his tongue with your cum. 

Finally, around 7pm, he still hasn’t heard from you so he decides to send you a text. ‘Make sure you eat tonight.’

Your one hour nap turns into several. And you wake up and see that it’s already dark outside, you reach over and switch on your phone. It’s past 8pm and you have a text from Dave and a few missed calls from your parents.

You open his text and feel a bit of relief that he doesn’t seem too angry with you, you punch out a simple reply before snuggling back into your blankets.

‘I will. Thank you.’

Dave frowns at the message. Will? What the fuck do you mean by will? You should have already eaten by now. Tucked back into your dorm room safe and sound. The urge to get in his car and drive over to you is nearly overwhelming but he knows it will raise eyebrows. A professor coming to a student dorm hall is not usual. ‘Will? You haven’t eaten yet, little girl?’

How does everything he says to you go straight… there? You think to yourself. 

'I took a nap, and I've only just woken up. About to make a PB&J.'

‘You need something better than that.’ Dave immediately sends back. Before sending a  second text. ‘Scramble some eggs and have some toast. Breakfast for dinner is a college staple.’

‘You’re very bossy, did you know that professor York? I have bread, peanut butter, jelly, chips and oreos. I will survive.’

Dave growls at your answer, unhappy with your dietary choices. You can’t function on that. 

‘I AM bossy, but I want you to take care of yourself.’

You feel your chest get all warm at his admission, almost too soft for the way he’s bossing you around. ‘I promise I will have a super hearty breakfast in the morning… pancakes AND waffles. Dave… are you mad at me for leaving earlier?’

Dave stares at the message, frowning at the idea that you think he’s mad at you. ‘Do you want me to show you proof I’m not mad at you, sweetheart?’ You really are innocent, and he is enjoying the sweetness of your soul.

You take a bite into your hastily made sandwich before raising your eyebrow at his text? ‘Show me?’ you say out loud not sure what he means… ‘I’d like you to show me.’

He smirks at your admission. ‘I’m not mad at you. But I want you to know that I would never take what wasn’t offered.’ He promises before he sends the picture he had taken earlier.

You moan out loud at the photo that flashes up on your phone. It’s your new panties covered in his cum, a brief flashback of the salty tangy taste of him floods your tastebuds.

‘Seems like such a waste to have it somewhere I can’t taste it.’ You punch back.

‘I was going to coat your pretty pussy in it.’ Dave admits, chuckling to himself at your bravado over text. ‘But plans changed. It happens.’

‘I thought you were going to put it inside. I’m sorry for freaking out… I would have liked that. I would have liked to see you cum.’ You reply, your fingers digging into the meat of your thigh as you curse yourself for panicking.

‘I will NEVER do that without your permission.’ Dave knows he’s a lot of things. He’s definitely going to hell despite everyone believing there is salvation with prayer, but that is a line he would not cross. ‘Not until I hear the words come out of your mouth.’

You bite your lip and feel a little guilty for not telling him you weren’t ready and just running out, ‘I think that if anyone could make me say those words… it would be you.’

Dave decides that virginal hysterics are not that big of a deal and decides to reward you with a little something so you can go to sleep with him and only him on your mind. He selects a video and sends it to you. ‘Sweet dreams, little girl. Remember to eat.’

‘Holy shit,’ you say out loud as a video of him finishing flashes up on your screen, you watch it back a few times, moaning at the way your pussy clenches with need every time. 

‘I would like you to show me how to make you do that, if that’s ok? I ate. Goodnight, Dave.’

*

You wake with a jump, the sound of your phone vibrating incessantly on your nightstand makes you groan as you reach out to grab it. 

** INCOMING CALL: MOM**

You want to ignore it and let it ring out but you fear that at this point your parents might just turn up and hunt you down.

You groan one last time before clicking the green button to accept her call. 

‘Hi Mom,’ you say sheepishly knowing you’re in for a telling off, ‘I was going to phone you tonight.’

She doesn’t bother saying hello, instead she just scoffs, and begins her lecture. ‘We haven’t heard from you in days. Priest Vickers has informed us that he’s yet to meet you and The Pritchards have told us that their son has only seen you in ONE bible study… What exactly are you doing there?’ 

‘It’s been less than week, i’m just trying to find my foot—” 

“We put the Lord above else,’ she all but screams down the phone, ‘If everyone else can find time… so can you. Your father is livid, he’s so angry that he considered coming to your dorm last night and checking on you in person. You are to be calling us EVERYDAY.’ 

You shake your head and she continues ranting and raving at you down the phone before glancing at the time, you promised Dave that you’d get a decent breakfast today and you still hadn’t showered so you take a deep breath and interrupt her ranting.

“Mom, I have an early class, I need to shower and brush my teeth and eat. I’ll call you later. Goodbye.”

After ending the call you see her number flash up on your phone again and you roll your eyes, leaving your phone on the nightstand as you lock the door and make your way to the bathroom. You’ll deal with it all later.

After showering and getting ready for the day, you skip off towards the cafeteria. As you approach the large hall you have the urge to check you have your card on your person, and as you dig through your bag, you see something that makes you stop in your tracks.

The brand new rosary your father had gifted you the day you left for college. ‘Who are you?’ you think to yourself as your fingertips brush the rosary. This isn’t you. This isn’t who you’re supposed to be… You fill tears sting your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks as you stare into your bag at the rosary. 

You know what you have to do, you know where you have to go. You immediately spin on your heels and talk towards the exit.

*

The next morning has Dave up early. Ready and out the door to head to campus with the purpose of running into you on the way to the cafeteria and making sure that you eat properly. Completely coincidental, of course. Your last text had him burning, imagining you stroking his cock or even better, sucking his cock until he spills down your throat and you swallow every sticky drop.

He is just coming towards the coffee cart when he sees you dart out of the cafeteria and practically sprint towards the chapel. Dave grunts, knowing the priest won’t be awake yet, the old codger never gets into the confessional booth before 11am. 

Changing directions, Dave follows you. Wanting to make sure that you are alright and wondering why you are not eating like you told him you would.

*

You breathe a sigh of relief when you notice the chapel is empty, no one waiting to confess their sins or engaging in morning prayer. Heading straight to the confessional booth, you shut it behind you and take a deep breath before sitting and waiting for the priest to speak.

Dave opens the door to the chapel, finding it deserted and he knows you have to be in the confessional. His steps are light, quickly walking towards the box where all confess their sins before God and slips into the priest’s seat sliding the first window open to keep the privacy barrier between you.

You begin by completing the sign of the cross.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was 3 months and 17 days ago.”

You take a deep breath and bite down on your lip before speaking again.

“I have engaged in… improper activities with a man. A man who I can’t get out of my head, I allowed him to… touch me, and I-I-uh want him to touch me again. He is all I think about,” you admit with a sigh, “I have known him less than a week and I have been more intimate with him than I have anyone else. I have neglected prayer, and I have avoided speaking to my family. All because I don’t want to say anything that’ll risk me being pulled away from here… from him.”

Dave hums, heat filling his chest and it makes his cock start to harden as he listens to you confess your sins to him. He doesn’t say anything yet, knowing you will discover it’s him so he waits for you to continue.

“I-uh, I don’t think I could say no to this man,” you admit blissfully unaware you’re admitting this to dave, “I want to please him. I want to see his face contorted in pleasure as I sin with him. Before this weekend, I had never known the pleasure that my body is capable of… and now all I think about is him drawing it out of me… What should I do, Father?”

Dave contemplates several answers, some of them demure, fitting with a priest. Others are immoral and make his hard cock twitch. “You should follow your heart, little girl.” He murmurs softly. “Make this man’s face contort in pleasure like you wish. Right now.”

“Dave,” you gasp out, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.” Dave retorts. “Didn’t you promise me you were going to eat a hearty breakfast?” He asks. “Confession isn’t in the cafeteria.”

“I was on my way but I,” you reply, “I saw my rosary. And I spoke to my Mom this morning and I just keep letting everyone down. So I came here.”

“Why are you letting everyone down?” Dave asks, annoyed at the way you sound frantic and upset. “Forget everyone for a second. Are you letting yourself down?”

“I don’t know,” you reply softly, “I don’t know how I am supposed to feel. But I know that I barely know you, in fact I know nothing about you, but what I do know is that I want to make you feel good.”

“Then make me feel good.” Dave tells you, as if it’s the most simple thing in the world. “Right here.”

The idea of desecrating the confessional has Dave about to burst his jeans, cock throbbing as he slides the divider out of the way and looks at you without the screen. “Right now.”

“Tell me what I need to do,” you say before shifting towards him, kneeling down as he feeds his rock hard cock through the window.

Dave groans at the lewdness of this. The sin of lust and fornication being committed right here in a sanctuary of God. The confessional booth where sins have been expunged will be stained with the sacrilege. “Wrap your rosary around the base of my cock.” He’s panting as he orders you to mark the beads with this act, knowing every time you pray and rub them, you will remember how you had violated them.

The words feel like a bucket of ice water being poured directly over you, but you still reach into your bag and pull it out. Doing exactly what he instructed and feeling your panties get soaked as you do so.

His cock bounces in your face from the way he reacts, twitching and a bead of precum leaks from the head to gather and nearly drip off of his length. "Now, open your mouth, pretty girl. Put it on your tongue."

You moan in response, one hand lightly wrapping around the base and rosary, before opening your mouth and pressing your tongue to the tip, you look up at him, eyes wide and awaiting your next instruction.

Dave can see your face through the slot, moaning softly at the sight of his cock on your innocent little tongue. “Close your mouth around it and suck.” He groans when your lips immediately latch onto his skin. “Good girl. Slowly start to take it deeper.”

You follow his commands, wrapping your mouth around his thick length, you’re not sure how much you’ll be able to take.

His eyes threaten to close but he forces himself to keep them open. Not wanting to miss a second of this. Slowly, his hands come through the slot to cup your cheeks, pulling you gently towards him as his hips push forward. “Like this.”

“Mhmmm,” you hum out around his dick, the quiet groans he occasionally lets slip spurring you on. He starts rocking on his heels, gently fucking into your mouth.

He shudders when your tongue moves, curling around his shaft and pressing against the head when he pulls his hips back. “Fuck.” He whispers so he doesn’t echo the curse through the church.

The urge to use the hand that’s not wrapped around the base of his cock to relieve some of the pressure pulsating in your clit is almost impossible to ignore. You can keep your arousal seeping out, coating your core and pussy lips, pooling in the middle of your panties.

You accidentally let a loud moan slip out as he increases his pace, fucking your mouth a little faster with each thrust, you hear him tell you to be quiet and to swallow around him as he pushes deeper and deeper.

It’s impossible to keep this up for long. The way your mouth sucks at his cock and the entire scene has him throbbing and poised on the threshold of pleasure. Your confession turning into the biggest sin so far and he’s loving it. 

Rocking his hips faster, he curls his fingers around the edge of your jaw. The beads keep him from plunging too deep and choking you, butting up against your lips. “When- when I tell you, start swallowing.” He grunts quietly.

You wonder what you must look like right now, your eyes watering and you’re pretty sure the drug store mascara you’re wearing isn’t waterproof and you can feel your spit and saliva coating your chin. He lightly taps your cheek as you moan around him again, ‘would he be ok with you touching yourself?’ You think. Needing to do something.

“Fuck.” He moans quietly. “Are you touching yourself, little girl? Praying to my cock while on your knees with your hand between your thighs?” He can’t see your other hand but he wishes he could. Wants to see how wet you are, watch you touch yourself in this booth.

You show him your free hand, and look up at him, waiting for his permission to slide your free hand into your panties. You suck on his cock a little harder as he presses it deeper, past your tonsils and almost to the back of your throat. You feel as though you’re about to choke and you start to pull back.

“Touch yourself.” Dave orders quietly, knowing he’s not going to last much longer. “Fuck, slide your fingers inside your pussy.”

You briefly drop your hold on his cock, using both hands to hoist up your skirt and rip your panties down just past your thighs. You slide in hand between your legs and resume your grip on his cock with the other, you rub your clit, trying to replicate the feeling of his fingers on you.

You bob your head on his cock a little faster, your form sloppier than he’s used to and you start to gag around his length.

“Don’t choke yourself.” Dave chides, the last thing he wants is to have you vomit in the confessional. “We’ll get there. I’m gonna cum.”

You slow the motions on your clit and return your focus on sucking his cock, you’ve given yourself a little relief and now you want to focus on making him cum. You tighten to grip on the base of his cock, careful not to painfully press the rosary against him too hard and suck a little harder, taking him deeper and breathing through your nose as he just instructed. His grip on your face tightens and his strokes get a little sloppier as he rocks in and out of your mouth.

“Gonna- fuck, gonna cum.” He warns you, feeling the edge of his orgasm starting to build up. “When- when my cock starts to throb, start swallowing.” He instructs as he pushes his hips forward again and again until he feels it. His balls draw up tight against his body. “N-now.” He groans, your name coming out of his mouth on a low growl as he starts to flood your mouth.

The sound of him groaning you name unlocks something primal in you and the need to please him grows stronger than ever. You swallow the best you can as your mouth becomes coated in his cum, the saltiness of him consuming your tastebuds and sliding down the back of your throat. You take as much as you can, but you feel some dripping out the corners of your mouth.

It seems to last forever. Spurt after spurt of his cum pumping onto your tongue. He groans when he feels the last of it work out of his cock and he twitches in your mouth, panting quietly. “Shit.”

Slowly you move off of him, letting your hands fall into your lap as you stare up at his dark eyes, your chin shiny with your saliva and his cum, mascara running down your cheeks and your hair ruffled from his hands in it. You must look horrendous, you think to yourself. 

“Did I do okay?” you ask and even you can’t hide from the innocence drowning each word.

“Perfect.” Dave coos, his hand coming back through the slot to cup your cheek and he kneels down to look at you through the access. His eyes light up when he sees how debauched you look and his thumb swipes through some of the cum to smear it into your skin. “You did perfect, little girl.” He licks his lips and smiles. “You look so pretty like this.”

“I must look a mess,” you reply meekly, “Can I do that again? When you’re ready?”

Dave groans, happy that you are wanting to do it again. “Go to my office.” Dave tells you, reaching in his pocket and handing you a key. “I will meet you there.”

“Wait,” you say before leaving. You dig into your bag and pull out some makeup wipes and start dabbing your face, somehow missing every stream of mascara lacing your cheeks, “Did I get it all?”

He chuckles quietly and takes a wipe from your hand to finish cleaning your face up. Wiping away all visible evidence of your sin. “Go wait for me, little girl.” He orders. “But don’t make yourself cum, yet. I’ll make you feel good.”

You make your way out of the chapel and down the hall, weaving your way through the crowd of people and towards his door. As you approach you see Deandra sighing as she waits outside his door and you can’t help but feel a little smug as she gives up and walks away.

When the hall clears you unlock the door and let yourself in, taking a few minutes to look at his bookshelf, before making your way around to his chair. 

Your fingertips trace the soft leather, before you pull it out and take a seat. Making yourself comfortable whilst you wait for him.

Dave is about ten minutes behind you. He had sent out an email cancelling the class for the day and had stopped by the cafeteria and picked up food for both of you. He opens the door and smirks as he sees you sprawled on his  chair. “Comfortable, little girl?”

“Yep,” you reply sweetly with a little shrug, “You know it’s not going to look good if I turn up to your class late, if you’re planning on making me a feast,” you say gesturing to the food in his hands. Unaware that class is cancelled.

He snorts and sets the bag down on the desk before he turns towards you again. “Good thing you aren’t going to class.” He murmurs before he crooks his finger at you. “Come here.”

“But I’m comfortable here,” you say feeling a little braver than usual, “Why don’t you come here?”

He chuckles at your moxy, deciding to indulge you since you had just sucked his cock. Striding around the desk, he holds the back of it while he takes your chin and lifts it, stretching your neck out as he lowers his head for a kiss. Eager to taste his cum on your tongue.

For the second day in a row he has taken you by surprise with a kiss, you let him take the lead as you get it used to the soft dexterous heat, before realising that he didn’t lock the door and it’s likely a certain visitor is on her way back to his office following the news that class was cancelled. 

You pull back and rest your forehead on his, “Deandra was looking for you, we should probably lock the door unless you want her to waltz in.”

Standing straight, Dave walks towards the door and flips the lock, closing you both inside his office once again. “Open the bag.” He tells you as he turns around. “You need to eat.”

“You’re bossy, have I ever told you that?” you say as you reach into the bag and pull out some fruit cups, eggs, bacon, pancakes and waffles. “This isn’t all for me right?” you ask as you spread the boxes out across his desk, still comfortably nestled in his seat.

“I was looking for you when I saw you going to church.” Dave has no issue with you being in his chair and settles down in the seat across the desk and shrugs. “Was going to make sure you ate properly.” He ignores the bossy comment because he knows he is, and that you secretly like it.

“Mhmm,” you say as you take a bite of eggs, “I mean technically you gave me a meal in the church.”

Dave stares at you for a second, speechless at the dirty comment that just came out of your innocent mouth before he barks out a laugh. “Yes, I did.” He hums.

“Sorry,” you say after a few seconds, “Sometimes I forget to engage my brain before I speak. One of the perks of a lonely childhood  I suppose.” You push over a little tray you’ve made for him, before taking a large bite of a waffle.

“Stop apologizing to me.” Dave tells you mildly as he leans forward and takes the tray. “I was admiring how dirty it sounded coming from that innocent - well, not innocent anymore - mouth of yours.” His smirk is smug and he winks when you look at him.

You breathe out a little giggle and you wiggle down in his chair, “How long have you worked here?” you ask, wanting to know him a little better.

"Nearly ten years." Dave tells you, figuring he deserves to tell you something of his background. "This was my alma mater too."

“Really?” you say not meaning to sound so stunned by his admission. “Don’t tell me, you’re the son of a clergyman too?” You say with another giggle.

"No." Dave chuckles and leans back in his chair, raising his brow at you. "I was actually headed to Seminary." He admits.

“Mhm,” you say back, “I can’t imagine they taught you to… do that,” you say in reference to your dalliance in the confessional, “there.”

"No, but after figuring out that I wasn't one for the rules and restrictions of the cloth, it became intriguing." Dave chuckles, watching the embarrassment bloom over your face.

“Oh,” you say before digging into some pineapple, “Can I ask you something else?”

"Sure." He takes a bite of his own meal, pleased that you are eating vigorously and not being shy about it. He hates when someone thinks that eating heartily is a bad thing.

“There are so many… gorgeous girls in our class,” you say, avoiding eye contact, “Why me?”

"You aren't gorgeous?" He asks, his tone making it clear that he doesn't believe that at all.

You roll your eyes at him and start picking at your food again, ignoring his question.

Dave harrumphs, not liking your non answer and decides to turn it around on you. "Why not you?" He asks. "Or better yet, why me?"

You can’t contain the giggle that escapes your mouth as you look up at him, “You’re… you’re kind of the most attractive human being i’ve ever seen. And I just… feel like I don’t want to disappoint you.”

He can't deny that it boosts his ego when you say that you find him wildly attractive. "How would you disappoint me?" He asks, tilting his head at you in confusion.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing, you say with a shrug.” I worry I’ll do it wrong or I'll be boring… I don’t know.” You attempt to change the subject with another question, “Do you have siblings?”

"It's my job to teach you how, little girl." Dave reminds you, not bringing up the very real fact that you could say no at any point in time. That you could go to the school administration and get him in trouble. You don't seem to understand the power that you hold. But he moves on to your other question. "I have an older sister."

“Will you teach me more?” you ask quietly, “Is she in the church?”

"I'll teach you as much as you want." Dave promises with a wicked smirk. "Soon you'll be sitting on my cock in that chair while you recite your catechism." He doesn't wait for your scandalised expression before he moves on. "She's a nurse."

Your face burns at the casual way he speaks, you want to ask if they’ll be anyone else, he’ll be teaching. But instead ask something else, “Will I lose… will you take my virginity in here?” you ask with wide eyes.

Dave snorts, but he doesn't ridicule you for that question. Most of your sexual experience has been in this office but he finds he doesn’t want to take you here. "I would prefer to take your virginity in a bed." He sets the tray down and spreads his legs as he speaks. "You should be spread out on a bed and every inch of your body kissed and licked before I take your innocence." The fact that you are speaking like it's a foregone conclusion bodes well for him and he is eager to find out when that will happen.

Heat floods throughout your body at his words, ‘Are you really considering giving your virginity to this man? Are you really considering giving away your virtue to a man you’re sure has no interest in ever marrying you… of ever loving you?’ your teeth find your lower lip again as you brain bombards you with a final question, ‘Are you really considering disappointing your parents and going down a road they spent years blocking with bible studies, mass every evening, making sure your weekends and after school activities were revolved around the church?’ And then the words leave your mouth and linger in the air, “When… and where?”

"My house." Dave decides immediately, knowing it would not be good in a college dorm bed. They are too narrow and uncomfortable for him. His bed is where he wants you. His sheets stained with your innocence if you bleed. "When is.... up to you." He had meant what he said, he wouldn't force you into something you didn't ask for. The point was to get you to give yourself to him, not to take.

“Your house?” you repeat, “I’d like that.” You take a deep breath before nibbling on some more fruit, “I’m not sure when though.”

Dave shrugs, disappointed but he knew this wasn't going to be a quick conquest. "You'll let me know when you are ready." He tells you lightly, like it's the easiest thing in the world. "And I'll make it amazing for you."

“And we can still do other things in the meantime?” you ask as the pulsating between your legs grows stronger.

The slow smirk blooms on his face and Dave nods. "Of course we can, little girl. I still have to finger you, eat your pretty little asshole, rub my cock through your folds, cum on your pussy, have you suck my cock while I eat your pussy. So many other things to do."

“I liked it when you tasted me,” you admit, “I’d like to try that other stuff… but i’d like you to keep doing that as well.”

"Of course you would." Dave chuckles, well aware of how good oral sex is. "No one turns down head." He thinks about it for a moment and stands up. "I'll give you a choice, little girl. I can eat your pussy while you finish your food. Or we can go back to my house and I'll show you how to suck my cock while you have your pussy eaten."

“The latter,” you say far too quickly and internally chide yourself for appearing so desperately.

"Good choice." Dave smiles in approval and picks up his tray again. "Eat up, little girl. You will need your strength."

You eat the rest of your breakfast in silence, occasionally stealing a glance at Dave who’s finishing off his own. You take a step out of his chair and start to clean up the empty containers.

"I'll clean this up." Dave waves you off and stands up. "You need to change out of your uniform. Put on something comfortable.....and easy to take off." He smirks, imagining you naked and sitting on his face.

“Okay,” you say with a small smile, thinking about that sundress you have hidden at the bottom of your suitcase, “Meet you in about twenty minutes?”

Dave hums, looking down at his task as he agrees. "Little girl?" He calls you back right as you reach the door to leave. "Don't change your panties." He orders as he looks up. "I want to feel how wet sucking my cock got you."

The second you’re in your room, you start to strip out of your uniform, a twang or guilt rearing its ugly head at the fact you’re about to skip the other two lessons you have today. 

You dive into your suitcase and pull out the yellow sundress you bought in secret a few days ago. Carefully cutting off the tags and sliding it on, you freshen yourself up the best you can before taking a few seconds to have a look at your panties.

White of course, just as Dave likes them, and with an obvious patch of wetness that you know he’s going to tease you over.

You shake off the nerves bubbling in your tummy, grab your phone, keys and bag before bouncing down to the spot he told you to meet him.

Dave takes his time, picking up the trash and shoving it back in the bag so he can throw it away on the way to his car. He'll drive over to your dorm and pick you up before he takes you to his house. When he opens the door, he rocks back when he comes face to face with Deandra. "Class is cancelled." He tells her, not willing to dawdle.

You don’t see his car when you get to the spot and take a seat on one of the benches, punching out a quick text to let him know where you are. The breeze makes you shiver a little and second guess your choice of outfit, but you figure you’ll be wearing a lot less very soon.

Deandra pouts for a second, glancing down at the bag in his hand and turns on a smile. "I- I was hoping to talk to you about our last assignment?" She asks hopefully. 

Shaking his head, Dave pulls his keys out of his pocket. "You can email me." He tells her as he locks up. "Office hours were also cancelled in the email. I'm going home."

After a few minutes you see his car pull up and you climb into the passenger side. “Hey,” you greet him, fighting the urge to lean over and kiss him.

"Sorry, baby girl." Dave reaches over and squeezes your knee as he pulls away from the curb. "Deandra came up to me when I was coming out of the office and it took a few minutes to shoo her away."

“If I look away too long, she’s likely to get those acrylics into you, Professor,” you say with a giggle, “Also… baby girl… I like that.”

"You like that better than 'little girl'?" Dave asks with a smirk. You might not have noticed the possessive tone to your voice, but he did.

“I like them both,” you say with a shrug, “and don’t think I missed you ignoring the first thing I said.”

"What?" Dave looks over at you for a moment before he looks back at the road as he navigates off campus and towards his house. "Her sinking her claws into me? Not going to happen." He knows what type of girl she is and he's not interested.

“Good,” you say with a slightly smug tone, “How far do you live from here?”

"Only about ten minutes." Dave tells you, having bought a house years ago when he was first hired on to the college. He hadn't seen a reason to rent and it had paid off to have a place away from campus.

“Nice,” you reply sweetly, playing with your hands in your lap.

"You seem nervous, baby girl." Dave hums. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

“I’m not nervous,” you admit, “I just need to… never mind.” Embarrassment floods through you as you nearly admit how desperate you are for him to touch you, how the ache in the middle of your legs is growing stronger and almost painful.

"You need to do what?" Dave asks, looking back over at you again. "Tell me what you need."

“It hurts,” you say as he drives out of view of campus, your hands snaking up your thighs and under your dress, “Like if I don’t touch it, it’s gonna explode.”

You're turned on. Dave grunts in understanding and bites his lip as he contemplates what you should do. Finally, he reaches out and puts his hand on your thigh. "Put my hand on your clit, baby girl." He orders, wanting you to use his fingers. "In your clit or inside your pussy."

You place your hand on top of his and slowly lead it up your legs, opening them wider as you do. Leading it down to feel the wet patch on your panties before pulling your panties to the side and putting his hand on your clit.

“Jesus, little girl.” Dave groans, wanting to push his fingers inside you but you had brought him to your clit. He quickly turns his wrist so he can start rubbing it for you. “Want to cum?” He asks, knowing you do.

“Yes please,” you beg, desperate for something to ease that ache.

“Close your eyes.” Dave orders. “Just feel my finger on your clit.”

“Yes, Dave,” you breathe out as you do what he says, “Please.”

He makes slow, tight circles on your clit, keeping firm pressure on it as he drives. Feeling it throb against his digit as your chest heaves and your hips start to grind down subtly.

An endless stream of moans pour from your lips as he works something spectacular from you. “Oh, Daddy,” you moan without realising what you’re saying until it’s floating midair.

He chuckles, sliding a finger down through your folds to wet it even more before moving back to the bundle of nerves.

It doesn’t take long until you’re hanging over that edge, whimpering uncontrollably in your seat.

“That’s it, baby girl.” He coos, close to the house and his fingers speed up. “Cum for daddy.”

You cum hard and with another moan of his name, “I think you’re trying to kill me, Professor York.”

Dave huffs, pulling his fingers out of your panties and turns the wheel to turn onto his street. “So I should take you back to campus?” He asks teasingly. “Give you a break?”

“Don’t you dare,” you say with a loud giggle.

It’s only another few moments before he is pulling into the driveway of his house, opening the garage door as he pulls up so he can drive right in. “Too late now.” He grins as he winks at you. “I’ve got you home.”

His house is beautiful. The front yard is perfectly maintained and the house perfectly painted. “Wow,” you say, “This is… gorgeous.”

“Thank you. It was rundown when I bought it, but it’s been slowly improving.” Dave pulls into the garage and closes the door as he parks and shuts off the engine.

“You did this?” you ask in shock.

Dave smirks as he gets out of the car. “My parents were poor, I paid my way through college working for a construction crew building houses whenever I wasn’t in class.”

“You truly do have magical hands,” you say as you step out of the car, “It really is a beautiful home.”

“Thank you.” He motions you over to the door into the house. “It was college working my ass off and a partial scholarship, or the military.”

“Your parents must be super proud of you,” you say, reaching out and gently touching his elbow.

“They disowned me when I didn’t go to seminary.” Dave tells you matter of factly. There was nothing he could do about his parents' views, so he didn’t dwell on them.

Your stomach drops at his revelation, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“You didn’t.” Dave assures you. “It’s their loss. I don’t let it affect me.” He guides you into the house and the kitchen. “What do you want to drink? Water, juice, tea, soda?”

“Water would be nice, thank you,” you say, “And your house is just as beautiful inside as it is outside.”

“Doesn’t look like a bachelor pad, you mean?” Dave jokes, opening the cabinet and pulls out a glass to get you some water.

“I can’t say I’d know what one of them looks like, so I'll just have to take your word for it,” you say, reaching out to take the water and thanking him.

It reminds him again of how sheltered you have been. “Do you want to look around? Take the tour?”

“Lead the way, Sir.”

It’s important for you to feel comfortable, so he takes his time. Slowly wandering through the house with you, telling you about the house and what he had done before guiding you to the master bedroom. The door is open and his bed is made, so Dave stands in the doorway and gestures for you to enter if you want.

You smile at him before pushing past him and walking over to the bed, and perching yourself on the edge. He’s still standing in the doorway, as you run your hands across the soft duvet. “How do you want me?”

“That’s a loaded question, baby girl.” Dave admits, still not moving from his spot. “How I want you, is naked and filled with my cock. How I get you, is up to you.”

“How about we start with the naked part and go from there?” you ask as you stand up and slip the straps of your dress off your shoulders, before letting the whole thing fall down and pool at your feet.

Dave groans, drinking in the sight of you in your pretty white bra and panties, looking innocent but your face is filled with dirty thoughts. “That sounds good.” Dave reaches for his own button down and starts unbuttoning it, shrugging it off his shoulders and tosses it down. Both of your shoes are by the kitchen door and he reaches for his jeans.

The sight of him without a shirt makes your breath hitch, the wide expanse of his strong shoulders making you feel like you might drool. “Should I take my bra and panties off now, Daddy?”

“Take your bra off.” He orders, lowering the zipper of his jeans and starting to push them down his hips. He’s wearing boxers today and they are already starting to tent as he watches you remove your bra and reveal your breasts to him.

You let your bra drop down on the floor, saying nothing as you notice the large bulge in his boxers. “Tell me what you want to do to me,” you say in a whisper.

“Lay down on the bed and spread your legs, baby girl.” He kicks off his jeans and smirks as he does. “I want to see the wet spot over your pussy.”

You immediately climb back on the bed, making yourself comfortable before spreading your legs, eager to feel him touch you somehow.

The last thing is for his boxers to come off. Despite you sucking his cock, you’ve not seen him naked, probably never seen a naked man before right now as he pushes his boxers down, cock bobbing as he kicks them off and stands straight for you to look your fill.

“Holy fuck,” you curse before scolding yourself internally, “I-uh, I need you.” Your eyes flick up and down his bare form, you want to kiss every inch of him, you want to feel every part of him and you want him to do whatever he wants to you.

“What do you need, baby girl?” Dave asks, starting to walk towards you slowly, eyes fixed to the soaking wet patch of fabric over your pussy. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“I need you to touch me, kiss me… use me,” you admit sheepishly, “Whatever you want to do.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to say, little girl.” There is a growl to his voice and his cock twitches. “You know what I want.”

“Tell me,” you beg, wanting to hear the depravity fall from his lips.

“I want to suck on your tits.” Dave murmurs, “until you are squirming and begging me to lick your pussy. Then I want to lick your pussy until you cum all over my face like a messy little girl.” Dave sets one knee on the bed and leans in, cock hanging between his legs. “Then, I want to kiss up your body and slide my cock into the tightest, sweetest pussy I will ever have. Fill you with every inch of this.” His other hand wraps around his cock and he squeezes himself, groaning quietly. “After you cum on my cock and I’m about to cum, I want to pull out and paint your skin, your soft, untouched skin with ropes of my cum.”

“Yes,” you say as you rub your fingers between your legs, “Do it. Do it now.”

Euphoric victory hums through his veins and he nods. “Whatever you want, baby girl.” He had permission, he can taint you, deflower you. Soil you for any other and know that he was the first. He crawls up the bed and hovers over you, leaning in and pressing his lips to your gently before he ducks down and wraps his mouth around one of your tight nipples.

It comes to no surprise to you how responsive your body is to him, you gently gasp as he sucks hard on your nipple, your hand coming up to entangle in his hair. Your soft moans fill the air as you realise that you don’t need to hold back, “I’m all yours to do whatever you want with,” you whisper as he continues to tease your nipple with his tongue.

“Naughty girl.” He teases, switching to the other breast. “Sinful.”

“Should I start to repent?” you ask with a moan as his teeth graze you.

“Maybe you should.” Dave grins up at you. “Pray while I’m fucking you.”

“Pray for salvation as you send me towards damnation?” you say with another giggle, “Ruin me for whoever my parents make me marry.”

“Fuck.” Dave hisses, frowning as he pops off your tit. “You marry who you want.” He growls, suddenly pissed off at the idea of you being married off to some virginal twat who doesn’t know shit about pleasure.

You giggle again, “I’m pretty sure that my parents have already chosen someone for me, I’ll just need to cross the T’s and dot the I’s. My mom will have reassured his mom that my pussy is untouched, my lips unkissed, but they don’t need to know. They’ll never know I let the first and only man -ohh just like that- I've wanted to use me as he wishes.”

He has to stop talking about it or it will piss him off. Instead of answering, he bites down on your tit, just above your nipple to make you gasp out before he sucks on your tit again like you asked him to.

“Mark me up,” you beg, “Please.”

You love the way his mouth feels on your sensitive bud, the little streaks of pain when he drags his teeth across it. Every movement feels like it’s dripping with sin, and your body craves more.

He does as you ask, until your skin is littered in impressions of his teeth, making him smirk at the sight.

“Taste me,” you begin to plead over and over, “I need your tongue.”

You squirm under him on the bed, looking down at his handiwork. The bruises and teeth impressions making you gasp, “Make me yours,” you moan out as you trace your fingers on a particularly prominent mark.

Dave groans, moving back up and kisses your lips before he winks and starts to kiss down your body. Every inch is covered with his lips and he bites your hip playfully.

You groan at his ministrations, loving the way he’s teasing you, but also wanting to feel his mouth on you.

He's eaten you out, he had tasted you yesterday but this time there is a purpose. He wants to make it good for you, to get you wet enough that you don't hurt when he takes your virginity. His cock throbs in anticipation as he pulls your panties off and settles between your thighs to hook your legs up over his shoulders so he can spread you wide and spear his tongue into your core.

“Make me feel good,” you ask as sweetly as you can, watching the way he’s licking his lips as he stares at your glistening pussy.

It is the easiest order that he would ever follow, smirking and nodding. His eyes are fixed on yours while he lowers his mouth to your pussy and he groans at the tangy taste of your cum bursting on his tongue as he slides it though your folds and flicks it over your clit.

You fight the urge to squeeze your eyes shut, knowing he won’t like that. So you keep yours locked with his as he begins lapping at your clit, “Dave,” you moan, repeating his name over and over like it’s the only word you’ll ever speak again.

He takes his time, he has all the time in the world right now. His classes are cancelled, the doors are locked and his phone is on silent. Right now all that matters is you right here in his bed. He smirks and pulls his mouth away from your throbbing clit. "Recite the Divine prayers, baby girl." He orders you before taking your clit back into his mouth.

You make the Make in the Sign of the Cross, before reciting The Chaplet, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. - Mhmmm, oh Dave - Amen.” You smirk as you begin to recite St. Faustina’s Prayer for Sinners, “O Jesus, eternal Truth, our Life, I call upon You and I beg Your mercy for poor sinners. O sweetest Heart of my Lord, full of pity and unfathomable mercy, I plead with You for poor sinners. - Oh god, Please, Dave -” you cut yourself off with a loud gasp as he does something magnificent with your clit, words failing you as your thighs start to shake uncontrollably and your breaths become more shallow.

Every swipe of his tongue matches your words. Keeping tempo as you recite the prayer while his tongue sins. He groans into your pussy, loving how your breath hitches when his tongue flicks and your voice pitches higher when he sucks on the bundle of nerves. He wants you to cum, he needs you to cum and he doubles down on his ministrations to make that happen.

You cum hard and fast, your orgasm ravishing your whole body, making you scream his name and unconsciously pull his face even closer to your pussy as you ride out your high.

His scalp burns as you pull on his hair, making him moan and your juices flooding his mouth. His tongue is still moving while your thighs are squeezing his head and shaking around his ears.

“Kiss me,” you beg as you finally regain your composure, vaguely aware of him somewhere between your thighs, “Kiss me and fill me up with your cock.”

It's music to his ears and he swears that he could cum right now. His own breath shaky with excitement and anticipation as he crawls back up your body and his thighs slide between yours. His cock rests against your belly while he presses his wet mouth to yours, immediately sliding his tongue into your mouth and feeding your taste to you.

You kiss him with all the strength you can muster, getting braver with every kiss, feeling more confident and licking your way into his mouth. You feel his cock twitch against your stomach, and you shiver with anticipation.

There is a moment where he waits, still kissing you. Giving you a chance to change your mind if you want. Giving you the chance to keep your virginity for now if you wish to keep it. Wanting to hear you tell him yes one more time.

You can see the way his dark eyes soften for a few seconds, “I want this,” you whisper, “I’ve spent my whole life letting people make decisions for me. And unless you don’t want to… I want you to fuck me.”

"Baby girl...." Dave nudges your nose with his and kisses you again. "I want nothing more." He promises, cock twitching. 

He slowly lifts his hips and gives you enough space between your bodies to look while he reaches down and takes himself in hand. Sliding the head of his cock through your slick and puffy folds and teases the entrance of your pussy by circling it several times before he positions himself. 

Staring into your eyes, Dave lowers his body to yours to press you into the bed, his hips nudging slowly forward until the head of his cock slips into your heat and he starts to feel you.

You wince a little at the stretch of him, he takes his time, pushing in inch by inch, one of your hands wraps around his left shoulder and squeezes a little.

"It's okay....it's okay, baby girl." He stops when he feels it. The tiniest amount of resistance and he gives you a moment. Knowing that with a push of his hips, you will be considered tarnished. He kisses you softly. "Are you ready?" He whispers.

“Yes,” you say with a little smile, “I’m ready, Dave.”

He breathes in your cry when his hips snap forward, breaking through the barrier of your innocence and planting himself fully inside your walls.

You whimper into his mouth as he plants his lips firmly over yours, it stings, the stretch of him almost indescribable as he splits you open.

You’re not sure if it’s overwhelming, or not enough. You feel completely consumed by him, not able to form a coherent thought as he takes over all your senses.

"You're doing so good, baby girl, you feel so good." He whispers when he pulls his lips back and starts to kiss across your cheeks and your nose, giving you another minute to adjust to him.

“Do you… do you need to move?” you ask as you let your fingertips trail up and down his back.

"When you're ready for me to." He twitches inside you and pulls back so he can look into your eyes. "You tell me when you want to feel more, baby girl."

Your lip trembles at how soft he’s being with you, so soft that you could almost imagine him really caring for you, you quickly push that thought away and whisper for him to ‘move.’

Dave groans when he pulls his hips back, withdrawing from the heat of your body and hating how he doesn't have the tight squeeze of your walls around him before he slowly pushes back in. Feeling the way your walls yield as he fills you again so smoothly.

His thrusts are slow and calculated, he takes his time with each one, concentrating intently until he finds that spot inside of you that makes you yelp out loud.

"Good, baby girl?" He pants out, sliding his hands under your shoulder blades and he groans when you squeeze him tight. "You like that?"

“Yes,” you manage to choke out, “Keep moving.” You plead. “Please, Dave.” Words fail you as he continues to thrust in and out of you, the pain reducing with each drag of his cock and the pleasure increasing as you adapt to the girth of him.

Rocking his hips, Dave keeps his pace steady and the angle the same that had made you cry out. Wanting to make you feel good and cum on his cock. "Gonna- fuck, baby, you're so good."

“I think I’m gonna cum,” you pant seconds before your clamping down around his thick cock, and flooding him with your cum, it takes you by surprise how intense it feels and you find yourself digging your fingernails into his back as it all becomes a little too much.

He moans with you, gritting his teeth so he doesn’t fill you up, knowing that your pretty, untouched pussy isn’t protected against pregnancy. He has to pull out and he wants to feel every second of your pleasure. “Good girl, fuck, good girl.” He praises you, kissing along your jaw and down your neck.

Soft whimpers fill the room as he frees himself from you, you feel exhausted, unable to move from the spot your laying it, just basking in the soft attention he continues to pay you whilst you come back down, you feel the tip of him nudge against your clit before the sound of him aggressively stroking his cock floods your ears.

Dave’s teeth are buried in his bottom lip, barely suppressing a grunt as he works his cock. The slick of your cum coating him along with the thin strings of blood from your innocence. Marking him with your virginity and making him burn. His eyes are nearly black as his body trembles, jerking slightly as he hovers over you. “Fuck, fuck.” He hisses, your name grunted out right before he starts to cum.

You moan as you feel the warm spurts of his thick seed coat your pussy, and drip down through your folds, it feels like he cums forever. You whimper softly as your cunt clenches hard every time he lets a raspy grunt free and occasionally lets your name break free from his lips.

When he is done, your skin is covered in him. Thick ropes of cum splattered on your skin and glistening under the light. You look like an angel, dragged down to hell and he wants to take a picture to immortalise it but he doesn’t think that would be allowed. Instead he pants over you, his hand holding your knee and he looks over you like a priceless work of art.

“How was I?” you ask as you look up at him studying you, “Did I make you feel good?”

Dave chuckles, enjoying your eager expression. “You were amazing. You should see how you look right now, covered in me.”

“Show me,” you say, gesturing to your phone on the chest of drawers, “I want to see.”

His grin is immediately as he reaches for your phone. “I’ll delete it after I show you.” He promises, holding it out to you to unlock.

You punch in the key code quickly and then let your exhausted arms rest at your sides, “Show me,” you whisper again as he begins to angle your camera.

Dave snaps several pictures, quickly sending one of them to his phone before he turns it around and shows you the pictures he had taken.

“Oh wow,” you gasp, barely recognising the girl in the photo, before yawning loudly and looking away, “I feel exhausted.”

Dave smirks and takes the phone back from you to delete the photos like he had promised and sets it down on the nightstand. “Why don’t you pray while I clean you up and then we will take a nap?” He suggests.

“I don’t wanna pray right now,” you whisper, “But a nap sounds good.”

Nodding, he leans down and kisses your forehead. “I’ll go get a wash rag.”

You’re already asleep by the time he returns with the rag, you don’t feel him gently clean you up or feel him climb into bed beside you.

Dave pulls you against him, enormously pleased when you curl into his chest and sigh, settling into his arms. There is a blood stain on the sheets and he has quite a bit to write about tomorrow.

[Six Months Later]

He whispers in your ear to ssshhhh as the door to his office is knocked a few more times. You’re thankful you’re the one who locked it today, confident that no one will be able to come in and find you sitting on his lap. Your uniform skirt hitched about around your hips, sitting on his cock whilst he draws lazy circles on your clit with one hand and makes papers with the other. 

Your confidence had grown since Christmas break, and going back home to find out that your suspicions were founded. Your parents had been talking to one of the elders who had a grandson your age, a few years ahead of you at St Brennans that they were expecting you to marry. Your mother had gushed about how he’d seen you in the hall a few times and felt that you would indeed make a suitable wife, it took everything in you to ask if he’d still find you suitable if they all knew that Dave had developed a few hobby that involved bending you over his legs and spanking you as you recited the verses that were bled into your skin as a child. 

The very next day you found yourself driving back to your dorm but instead of stopping in front of your building you kept driving, until you arrived at your Professor's house.

Unable to spill your guts and tell him what was upsetting you, the second he shut the front door, you ripped off your jeans and bent yourself over the back of his couch and begged him to make you forget.

He proceeded to drop to his knees and lightly tease your clit for a few minutes before dragging his tongue up and burying it in your ass. You can still feel the way your body tensed up as he took you by surprise, never having touched you there before, only briefly mentioning he’d wanted to.

He stuck two thick digits inside of you whilst making you squirm and whimper on his tongue. Seconds after you came he sheathed his cock inside of you, filling you the hilt and pulling hard on your hips, fucking you harder than ever before and making you scream that you were his.

After then you found yourself more and more pliant, always ready and willing for him to use your body however he wanted, all whilst trying to push away the obvious feelings you were getting for him.

“Don’t cum,” he orders as he feels your walls flutter around him, “If you cum, I’ll bend you over this desk and you’ll spend the rest of the day unable to sit down. And that just wouldn’t look good to your bible study pals now, would it?”

You groan as the circles he’s drawing on your clit get more precise and make you squirm even more. He knows what he’s doing, he wants you to soak his cock and say his name like a desperate little prayer as he works you towards heaven. As you tremble more and more, he drops his pen and sneaks his now free under your sweater and starts to massage and squeeze your tit, ‘Don’t cum’ he warns again, knowing you have no way of stopping yourself and you’re definitely about to defy his orders.

His cock twitches inside of you as you flood his lap, cumming around him hard as he tuts throughout your high, still refusing to let up on the way he’s working your clit.

You hear him say something about you being a naughty girl, before he’s pushing you off of his lap and over the stacks of papers on his desk. “How many this time?” he says out loud as he admires the view, his hand coming down to knead to flesh of your ass, “At least 5 for defying my orders and I can’t ignore this now, can I?” he says whilst grabbing at your skirt, “The rule is 2 inches below the knee at the very minimum, yes? And you’ve got your pretty little pussy out on full display for me… so that’s got to be at least another 15 more.” He coos mockingly as you groan on his desk, “Oh I know poor baby, but you’ve got to follow the rules.”

Dave smirks at how filthy you are now, begging for his cock and anything that he will do to you. “Get your rosary beads out.” He orders, rubbing your ass and warming up your skin before he lands the first strike on your ass.

He’s done what he wants with you and he loves it, loves how you take everything and beg for more. How’s he’s turned you from a sweet, innocent little girl and turned you into a cock hungry little whore. Leaving your Bible study to come suck his cock and let him cum on your face.

His secret stash of photos has grown. Password protected and for his eyes only, he has dozens of photos of your body covered in his cum, filled with his cock. On your knees with your innocent eyes looking up at him or your pussy stuffed full. He loves it.

You reach into your bag and pick out your rosary as he instructed, “I’ve got it,” you say as innocently as you can, knowing that he’s about to mark you up in his favourite way.

“I want you to count out the licks.” He leans over and coos into your ear. “Then you are going to use your rosary in prayer while you sit on my cock again. And you don’t cum.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond as a mixture of anticipation and excitement courses throughout your veins.

Sir. You know he loves it when you acknowledge the power imbalance between you. Sir or daddy being his favourites. He hums in approval and smirks as he slaps your ass again.

You choke out the word “Seven,” unsure if that was indeed number seven or number eight. His large hand gently rubs as the burn patch of your ass and you wonder if he’ll make you ride out the 20 he suggested.

Dave makes sure that he keeps the tempo of your punishment slow, working you up and making you anticipate. Knowing your pussy will be throbbing when he slides back inside you. Smirking to himself, he pushes your foot wider to spread your legs more. The next slap aimed for your pussy.

You yelp louder than you definitely should in your professors office. The pain is almost unbearable as you realise what he did.

“Shhhhhh.” Dave chuckles, fingers sliding through the mess your orgasm had left. “Do I need to stuff your panties in your mouth?” As much as he loves your virginal white panties, you had bought some white thongs that he had stripped off of you today.

You half mumble the word ‘no’ before falling forward onto his desk, he gave you a word to use when it all gets too much and it’s hanging off the tip of your tongue, “Dave,” you murmur, “Please.”

“Do you think you deserve a reward, baby girl?” He can tell you’re overwhelmed, nearly to the edge of making him stop and he caresses your ass again. “Do you want to sit on daddy’s cock for him again? Can you be a good girl this time?”

“Yes,” you just about manage to croak out, “I want to sit you on your cock.” You push yourself up on steady legs, and much to your surprise he gently leads you around to face him.

Dave sits down and pulls you into his lap, opening your legs and making you straddle him. “Just like this, little girl.” He murmurs, reaching between you so he can line up his cock to push inside your sweet pussy.

You slowly sink down on him, resting your hands on his shoulders as you do so. You moan softly as he fills you, somehow feeling even bigger from this angle.

“Feels good doesn’t it?” He murmurs, letting you lean forward and tuck your face into his neck. His hands rub slow circles on the gooseflesh skin on your ass, slowly caressing you while you flutter around him.

You hum in agreement, letting your arms wrap around him, “You always feel good,” you admit as you nuzzle your face against his skin, “always.”

Humming in approval, his fingers graze the beads. “Start praying, sweetheart.”

You start reciting a prayer of self protection into the crook of his neck, trying to focus on not moving, trying to focus on not clamping down around his hard cock and milking him of all of his pleasure, “Dave,” you whine as he very slowly fucks himself up into you just to tease, “Don’t be mean.”

He huffs in amusement, loving how you are whining his name. “Greed.” He rasps out, twitching inside you again. “So greedy for your pleasure.”

“Who’s fault is that?” you ask as you suck on his neck, don’t hard enough to leave marks, but enough to make him hiss.

“You want to blame me?” He grunts, gripping your ass more firmly and rocking you on him while you curl against his chest.

“Yes,” you reply petulantly, before bringing your face up to his, “I do.”

Dave smirks, making his cock twitch inside you just to make you gasp. He leans into you, making you think that he was going to kiss you but his teeth find your bottom lip. He bites down on it, loving how you moan.

You purposely clench down around him as he nibbles your lip. Your hands reaching up and gently gripping his jaw softly. “You know I’m going to have to leave for my next class at some point?” you say with an exaggerated pout.

“You don’t have to.” Dave huffs, kissing your lips and biting it again. “You could stay.” His hips thrust up. “Right here.” He thrusts again. “All day.”

“Yeah?” You say as he fucks up into you, “How are you going to teach your next class with me keeping your cock nice and warm?”

“I’ll teach over zoom by powerpoint.” He teases, sliding his hands down and squeezing your ass. “Or maybe just show everyone what a bad girl you are.”

“How do you think your number #1 fan would react to seeing me bouncing up and down on your cock?” you ask as you grind down on him.

He chuckles, knowing how jealous you get over Deandra. You’re possessive and honestly it doesn’t bother him as much as he had thought it would. It shows how deep he’s gotten.

“I have to go in like two minutes, Dave,” you say as you start bouncing up and down on his cock a little faster, “Unless you want to explain to Professor Thomas why I’m late to his lecture again.”

He rolls his eyes, huffing at the idea of talking to that pompous windbag again and listening to his lecturing about decorum. “Fine, baby girl.” He slaps your ass playfully and urges you to ride him faster. “Gonna fill you up and you keep it inside you, okay? I’ll put more in this sweet pussy tonight.”

You hum happily at his words, as you ride him a little faster, “Fill me up, Daddy.”

“Shit.” Dave hisses, tightening his grip as he starts to push his hips up harder. You know how to make him cum. “Fuck, fuck, little girl-“ He groans your name as he thrusts one last time, burying himself deep and painting your walls with hot spurts of his cum.

You kiss him gently on the lips before standing up, tucking your panties in his shirt pocket, knowing that he wouldn’t be happy if you left here wearing them.

“Good girl.” Dave tucks his cock away and pats your ass as you straighten your appearance in the mirror that he has hung in a corner. “I’ll pick you up after your last class.” He tells you softly.

*

It’s only after you give him a decidedly promising kiss and slip out of his office does it hit Dave. He’s gotten in too deep. 

He’s allowed you to do things that no one else has, including practically living at his house. More often than not, he will pick you up after your classes, telling himself that he doesn’t trust you to eat or take care of yourself. Or that he wants to fuck you. But often it’s when you’re in his bed asleep that he thinks about the first time you had napped there, pulling you into his arms and letting you sleep on his chest. 

Dave frowns, analysing his feelings and realises that he hasn’t written for months. The meticulous notes that he used to take have been abandoned for the pure pleasure of spending time with you.

He’s completely changed for you, and the most ironic thing of all is that you don’t even know it.

*

You sit on the island in front of the oven swinging your legs, the timer on the oven still showing over twenty minutes as you kick your legs impatiently.

Dave is sitting at the table marking some essays and you decide it’s best to stop distracting him for a little while. 

Your mind drifts to the way he greeted you an hour earlier, you had barely stepped in through the door before he was pulling you in for a kiss. Possessively moulding his lips on top of yours as he pulled you as close to him as he could. 

You thought he was going to drag you into his bedroom then and there but he just kissed you a little softer and peppered a fleeting kiss to your forehead before telling you he had a few papers to mark, so you offered to make dinner. 

You’re pulled out of your daydream by him asking you to grab some new markers from his work office, a room you’d only been in once. 

“Sure, baby,” you say with a grin before jumping down off the countertop. 

“Baby,” he repeats with a raised eyebrow and a boyish grin, “Mhmm.”

His office is meticulous, everything perfectly placed and dusted. The smell of leather is both inviting and a little intoxicating. You look for the pack of markers on his desk and don’t see them, so you start looking in his drawers, finding nothing in the first few and in the third finding a small leather bound diary. 

You feel a twinge of guilt as your fingertips brush against it, for the most part Dave is so closed off, only giving you small parts of him, on occasion.

The book feels heavy in your hands and you know it’s because you feel guilty, you shouldn’t be doing this, but you just can’t help yourself. You open to the first page and see a girls name you don’t recognise at the top. 

Your eyes scan the page in disbelief. 

You were a conquest. Just like the girl on this page, and the girl on the next and the one after that.

And then it was your name.

He listed your age and how long it took for him to get you into his bed.

He had underlined the fact your father is a clergyman over and over, like you’d be his biggest challenge.

You feel a painful lump form in your throat as you realise that you never meant a thing to him. 

You feel sick, your legs threaten to give out beneath you and the room feels like it’s spinning around you. 

The sound of him calling your name from down the hall makes you want to scream or cry or both; you can’t decide. Before you realise it your feet are dragging you down the hall until you’re face to face with him again. 

He doesn’t have time to speak before you’re throwing the book down in front of him. 

“You got me into bed the quickest,” you shout, “Does that make me the winner or the loser?”

Tears start to stream down your face as he picks up the book you threw down on top of his pile of unmarked essays, “You’re evil,” you spit, “Is this a game to you? Pick the weakest girl and strip her of her innocence! Her virtue! Just for fun?”

Shit. Horror and guilt sink like a stone in Dave’s stomach and the chair scraping back against the floors as he stands up sounds like the scream you want to hurl at him. Dropping the book down on the table like it offended him. 

Eyes wide, he holds up his hands. “Sweetheart, let me - let me explain.” He rushes out, unsure of what to say or how? How does he admit that in the beginning you were a conquest but that changed and he didn’t even know it until it happened? That the reason he stopped writing in it was because it had changed. Today in his office, he had come to the conclusion that unlike the others that he had tarnished, he was keeping you. Needing to see where this would go.

The heartbreak on your face makes him feel dirty. Like a true sinner for the first time. His kinks were hurting you, he had hurt you and he hates it, hates himself for it.

He fucking loves you.

It’s a stark realization and Dave nearly retches because he knows he’s fucked up. “Please.”

You take a deep breath and shake your head, “No.” You grab your bag from the counter and head towards the front door, hearing him scramble behind you and yelling your name, but you keep walking.

He tries to reach you before you get to the door but he can't. Tripping over the fucking rug that you had wanted him to buy for the space on a rare weekend out shopping. He should have known then that he was fucked. 

Calling out your name again does nothing, the door slamming so hard that a framed landscape falls off the wall. Leaving him to decide if he should chase after you and create a scene in the street or call you.

The cold air feels like a slap to the face as you run down his driveway. Your eyes are stinging from the never ending flow of tears, but you manage to pull out your phone and order an uber to pick you up from down the street. 

‘How could he do this?’ you think to yourself, maybe you knew he was never going to love you. He was never ever going to truly care, but you never imagined this. You were a conquest. A game. Something for him to laugh over after he got what he wanted. 

Your virginity is preserved like some kind of sick trophy in the walls of the house that you’d grown to love, one that he’d refer to as ‘home’ when telling you to stay the night. 

You wipe the tears off your face as you round the corner, seeing an uber matching the description as the one coming for you pulling up.

[captainofthetidesbreath]

I've threatened in the past to write a post about Spahr's passive narrative role, and I'm finally getting around to it because I've been talking to several folks about him and that passivity recently. I've covered this topic in broad level and as a specific element regarding Spahr in 1.18: A Good Man and in 2.11: Inside. I recommend reading that post as a companion piece to this, though you'll recognize a lot of quoting here of that post.

His passivity (as a narrative role) can be broadly divided into two categories: him not taking action for various reasons, and his mere presence being something that incites reaction.

The latter is a smaller category. Lark and Fuze see his ship arrive on Midst, then scramble to move and change the circumstances of the situation before he has time to do anything: Fuze by promptly writing a letter to arrange a meeting, Lark by murdering Fuze. Phineas reacts to his arrival at the cabaret before he does anything at all. Spahr's presence is, on its own, powerful. It's noteworthy that all three of these instances do not react to Spahr as a person, really. He's simply a looming concept. The Prime Consector Jonas Spahr, a concept of a man. While this is a smaller category, it does create a problem of a lack of agency for Spahr. (Put a pin in the concept of agency for a moment.) In these moments, Spahr is less an active agent within the narrative and more simply an inciting incident. He does not really ACT when he arrives on Midst (setting Fuze and Lark to act) or when he arrives in the cabaret (setting Phineas to act), he simply exists in the space. Jonas Spahr arrives, and others drive the plot in reaction, but he does not get to act. The event happens in reaction to him but without his input, and it goes on without waiting for him to do anything at all.

The former, him not taking action, is a much larger category, and it collects a lot of different things. But, at the heart of it, it is about Spahr's own inaction or failure to take action. This happens for a variety of reasons, ranging from purposefully ignoring what is happening in front of him to a failure to commit including out of fear, concern for his position, or other inability to speak up. As a result, his role in the narrative is a generally passive one that largely centers on watching and observing. It's the first thing he does as a player in this story. He steps back and watches how Phineas handles the Ginsberg situation, and the narrators remind us four separate times in 1.03: Mica:

Thing is, Spahr does a lot of watching but, until more recently, doesn't really SEE all that often. He is for a long time a passive, immovable, unreadable observer to events as the eyes of God the Trust. He is that witness for much of events he's involved in, for... well, worse. After Phineas attacks Sherman, Spahr himself is quick to identify this problem with himself in 2.02: Ascendancy, that he is watching and looking but he is, perhaps intentionally, not seeing and noticing:

Worse than simply watching: he ALLOWS. He ignores the signs of Phineas's desperation, so that he doesn't need to do anything. He allows Imelda to convince him to leave Phineas behind on Midst. He allows Imelda to push him into making a statement about how fine things are on Midst. He allows Hieronymous to pressure him into bending the rules. He allows Imelda to torture Weepe (he allows Imelda to do a lot of things), and he feels like he's allowed the circumstances for Weepe to become Tripotentiary. He doesn't defend himself at his court-martial. He allows Costigan talk to him however she wants. He allowed the Upper Trust to conclude that Phineas should be fired if he didn't immediately improve.

That last one is contentious, and having to explain why I interpret it that way is useful to unpacking the crux of Spahr's central flaw here. (A case study, if you will.) Many interpret that it is Spahr's idea to threaten to fire Phineas as a motivator, but given the pattern created by every other incident in the list, I don't agree. Spahr deeply struggles with disagreeing with those in positions of power and influence over him. He carries out, dutifully and without complaint, the orders given to him because he lacks the will to resist or to refuse. (Again, he doesn't even fight for himself against the Upper Trust.) I think of Spahr casually mentioning he was ordered not to help and his stumbling panic when Phineas is fearful. Because of this, it doesn't track for me the idea that Spahr formulated this idea to fire Phineas.

It feels much more in keeping with his character and the details of his behavior during the scene—and with his established shortcomings and timidity and his tendency to quietly allow and carry out what he does not want—that the Upper Trust decided this and Spahr could not bring himself to fight it and instead chose to carry out his orders against Phineas. For me, it more coheres if he abdicated the responsibility onto Phineas and asked him to do the impossible, shifting the burden from himself to Phineas, all because he couldn't summon conviction, because he lacked the courage to disagree and the spine to stand for what he believes or wants. Case in point toward this interpretation: the scene in the Arca.

Season two is about Spahr realizing that he allows. We see it as he begins to process having abandoned Phineas and having not stopped Imelda:

Spahr is someone whose role is largely passive, both within the Trust systems and within the narrative. Just as much as he is to be seen, he is also very much here to see—and to refuse to see. He makes himself a passive witness to these horrors and allows them, silent and impassive and watching. He can try to intervene, last minute, but he's already facilitated this. The cabaret, the Arca. Even Sherman feeling he needed to take Weepe's deal, with Spahr moving after it is all said and done, is a lighter echo of these two scenes. To quote myself: "it's been asked of him: What are you refusing to see, Jonas? What horrors and brutalities are you allowing to happen? Will you always be intervening much too late?"

Ultimately, Spahr struggles with agency. In the interest of space, I refer to this post collecting episode quotes on the topic. He chafes against the idea that he doesn't have his own authority and is being maneuvered around by the political players in the Trust—but at the same time, he defers his own agency and maintains his own inaction and passivity. It's an incredibly interesting contradiction. He is afraid to fight, to resist, to intervene, and he is unable to find the conviction or the mettle or the spine. He's stood by, he's pushed it onto others like Phineas, he's ignored the signs, he's arrived too late, he's remained silent, he's paralyzed with fear, he's refused to refuse. He, well, does as he is told because he can't bring himself to defy his orders. He yields, every time. His role in this narrative thus far is defined by the fact that he does not act, that he chooses not to act or see, that he is frozen in place by fear or status, that even when he does try to act he cannot complete the action for some reason, that events are passing him by. He has yet to successfully take an effective, decisive, active action because he is locked in place—by circumstance, by more active agents, most of all by his constant decision to aquiesce. He always chooses not to muster the courage to do something hard, difficult, and costly for what he believes is right while the fight still means something, before it is too little, too late. Weepe is right: the Trust had him on a leash, and he was very willing to heel.

Spahr's greatest sin is that he has repeatedly allowed all this. Hopefully, before this is all over, he'll find the strength to refuse to keep doing so. Dig in his heels and refuse to do as told.

[codywanweek]

2023 Prompts

Thank you all for voting!! It's now time to announce the prompts for Codywanweek 2023!

We have two sets of prompts for writing and art, which are divided into multiple categories: AU, Broad, and Specific (and NSFW for the writing prompts this year). We'd appreciate it you use the art prompts for art and fic prompts for fics (this is easier for the eventual masterlists asjhfsdg)! But podfics, gifsets and everything else you can imagine are all welcome too!

There is a plain text version for screenreaders here. (Edited this post so it works in everyone's blog theme as well)

-----------

Writing Prompts

The Blue* prompts are the most voted for overall!

Day/---/AU/--------------------/Broad

Rebel AU/------------------/Jedi/Sith artifact/temple

Tatooine Husbands*/------/Little Brothers

Arranged Marriage/-------/Only One Bed*

Force Sensitive Cody*/---/"This isn't what I signed up for"

Sith AU/--------------------/Established Relationship

Modern AU/----------------/Undercover*

Timeline Shenanigans*/---/Dancing

Day/---/Specific/---------------------/NSFW

Cody with a lightsaber*/--------/Bondage

Trading Weapons/---------------/Fuck or Die

Growing Old Together/----------/Dirty Talk

Secret Relationship/------------/Dom/Sub

Battle Couple*/------------------/First Time

Flimsiwork and Tea/-------------/Force Sex

Rako Hardeen/Faked Death/---/SPICY

-----------

Art Prompts

The Blue* prompts are the most voted for overall!

Day---AU

Ancient Greece/Rome/Egypt

Tatooine Husbands*

Dancer/Musician/Theater AU

Historical (Edwardian/Victorian/Medieval/Prohibition era)*

Role Reversal

Prince/Knight*

Creatures/Hunters

Day/---/Broad----------------/Specific

Sleeping/--------------/Forehead Touch/Keldabe Kiss*

Wings/-----------------/Formal Wear

Stars/Sun*/-----------/BAMF Cody/Obi

Light and Dark/-------/Flimsiwork and Tea

Hands/----------------/Sitting Vigil/Injury*

Lightsabers/----------/Wearing a Dress/Skirt

Armour*/--------------/Force Bond

[haveyoureadthishorrorbookpoll]

Have you read...

note: If you did not finish but feel you read enough to form an opinion, you may choose a ‘Yes’ option instead of 'Partly' (e.g., Yes, I didn’t like it). Interpret "neutral or complicated" however you like, I intended this category to be a broad option between like and dislike.

Mors vincit omnia. Death conquers all. London, 1883. The Veil between the living and dead has thinned. Violet-eyed mediums commune with spirits under the watchful eye of the Royal Speaker Society, and sixteen-year-old Silas Bell would rather rip out his violet eyes than become an obedient Speaker wife. According to Mother, he’ll be married by the end of the year. It doesn’t matter that he’s needed a decade of tutors to hide his autism; that he practices surgery on slaughtered pigs; that he is a boy, not the girl the world insists on seeing. After a failed attempt to escape an arranged marriage, Silas is diagnosed with Veil sickness—a mysterious disease sending violet-eyed women into madness—and shipped away to Braxton’s Sanitorium and Finishing School. The facility is cold, the instructors merciless, and the students either bloom into eligible wives or disappear. So when the ghosts of missing students start begging Silas for help, he decides to reach into Braxton’s innards and expose its rotten guts to the world—as long as the school doesn’t break him first.

submit a horror book!

[voxofthevoid]

I'm pretty sure this has been asked before, but....What are your absolute no-nos when it comes to writing fiction? Any kinks, tropes, or topics you are super uncomfortable or uninterested in writing?

I can't actually remember if this has been asked. It's come up in a few ask games, maybe?

I recently mentioned scat, vomit, and extreme necro as my absolute nos in kink, but even among the rest, there are a lot of things I won't write in ship fic (or any story with characters I'm invested in) but would if I were to dabble in original porn—e.g., mindbreak, gang rape, free use verse, etc. Think hentai-style stuff.

The tropes I'm uninterested in are legion 😂. Some of them, I'll read (like coffeeshop AUs or only-one-bed scenarios), while others are avoided religiously (arranged marriage AUs or miscommunication plotlines). Most of these have exceptions too because some authors or styles will sucker me into almost anything.

Themes I won't touch include pregnancy, kidfic, and bigotry-focused narratives. The first one is a squick, and I'm mostly uninterested in the second. As for the third, it's pure escapism.

These are the broad strokes, but then, I couldn't give you the specifics if I wanted to. For instance, until very recently, parental incest was also in the squick category, and then JJK happened to me. My brain does what it wants half the time.

[dailyanarchistposts]

A.3 What types of anarchism are there?

One thing that soon becomes clear to any one interested in anarchism is that there is not one single form of anarchism. Rather, there are different schools of anarchist thought, different types of anarchism which have many disagreements with each other on numerous issues. These types are usually distinguished by tactics and/or goals, with the latter (the vision of a free society) being the major division.

This means that anarchists, while all sharing a few key ideas, can be grouped into broad categories, depending on the economic arrangements that they consider to be most suitable to human freedom. However, all types of anarchists share a basic approach. To quote Rudolf Rocker:

“In common with the founders of Socialism, Anarchists demand the abolition of all economic monopolies and the common ownership of the soil and all other means of production, the use of which must be available to all without distinction; for personal and social freedom is conceivable only on the basis of equal economic advantages for everybody. Within the Socialist movement itself the Anarchists represent the viewpoint that the war against capitalism must be at the same time a war against all institutions of political power, for in history economic exploitation has always gone hand in hand with political and social oppression. The exploitation of man by man and the domination of man over man are inseparable, and each is the condition of the other.” [Anarcho-Syndicalism, pp. 62–3]

It is within this general context that anarchists disagree. The main differences are between “individualist” and “social” anarchists, although the economic arrangements each desire are not mutually exclusive. Of the two, social anarchists (communist-anarchists, anarcho-syndicalists and so on) have always been the vast majority, with individualist anarchism being restricted mostly to the United States. In this section we indicate the differences between these main trends within the anarchist movement. As will soon become clear, while social and individualist anarchists both oppose the state and capitalism, they disagree on the nature of a free society (and how to get there). In a nutshell, social anarchists prefer communal solutions to social problems and a communal vision of the good society (i.e. a society that protects and encourages individual freedom). Individualist anarchists, as their name suggests, prefer individual solutions and have a more individualistic vision of the good society. However, we must not let these difference cloud what both schools have in common, namely a desire to maximise individual freedom and end state and capitalist domination and exploitation.

In addition to this major disagreement, anarchists also disagree over such issues as syndicalism, pacifism, “lifestylism,” animal rights and a whole host of other ideas, but these, while important, are only different aspects of anarchism. Beyond a few key ideas, the anarchist movement (like life itself) is in a constant state of change, discussion and thought — as would be expected in a movement that values freedom so highly.

The most obvious thing to note about the different types of anarchism is that ”[n]one are named after some Great Thinker; instead, they are invariably named either after some kind of practice, or, most often, organisational principle … Anarchists like to distinguish themselves by what they do, and how they organise themselves to go about doing it.” [David Graeber, Fragments of An Anarchist Anthropology, p. 5] This does not mean that anarchism does not have individuals who have contributed significantly to anarchist theory. Far from it, as can be seen in section A.4 there are many such people. Anarchists simply recognise that to call your theory after an individual is a kind of idolatry. Anarchists know that even the greatest thinker is only human and, consequently, can make mistakes, fail to live up to their ideals or have a partial understanding of certain issues (see section H.2 for more discussion on this). Moreover, we see that the world changes and, obviously, what was a suitable practice or programme in, say, industrialising France of the 1840s may have its limitations in 21st century France!

Consequently, it is to be expected that a social theory like anarchism would have numerous schools of thought and practice associated with it. Anarchism, as we noted in section A.5, has its roots in the struggles of working class people against oppression. Anarchist ideas have developed in many different social situations and, consequently, have reflected those circumstances. Most obviously, individualist anarchism initially developed in pre-industrial America and as a result has a different perspective on many issues than social anarchism. As America changed, going from a predominantly pre-capitalist rural society to an industrialised capitalist one, American anarchism changed:

“Originally the American movement, the native creation which arose with Josiah Warren in 1829, was purely individualistic; the student of economy will easily understand the material and historical causes for such development. But within the last twenty years the communist idea has made great progress, owning primarily to that concentration in capitalist production which has driven the American workingman [and woman] to grasp at the idea of solidarity, and, secondly, to the expulsion of active communist propagandists from Europe.” [Voltairine de Cleyre, The Voltairine de Cleyre Reader, p. 110]

Thus rather than the numerous types of anarchism being an expression of some sort of “incoherence” within anarchism, it simply shows a movement which has its roots in real life rather than the books of long dead thinkers. It also shows a healthy recognition that people are different and that one person’s dream may be another’s nightmare and that different tactics and organisations may be required at different social periods and struggles. So while anarchists have their preferences on how they think a free society will, in general, be like and be created they are aware that other forms of anarchism and libertarian tactics may be more suitable for other people and social circumstances. However, just because someone calls themselves or their theory anarchism does not make it so. Any genuine type of anarchism must share the fundamental perspectives of the movement, in other words be anti-state and anti-capitalist.

Moreover, claims of anarchist “incoherence” by its critics are usually overblown. After all, being followers of Marx and/or Lenin has not stopped Marxists from splitting into numerous parties, groups and sects. Nor has it stopped sectarian conflict between them based on whose interpretation of the holy writings are the “correct” ones or who has used the “correct” quotes to bolster attempts to adjust their ideas and practice to a world significantly different from Europe in the 1850s or Russia in the 1900s. At least anarchists are honest about their differences!

Lastly, to put our cards on the table, the writers of this FAQ place themselves firmly in the “social” strand of anarchism. This does not mean that we ignore the many important ideas associated with individualist anarchism, only that we think social anarchism is more appropriate for modern society, that it creates a stronger base for individual freedom, and that it more closely reflects the sort of society we would like to live in.

[thefloatingstone]

In your video you mentioned how some westerners dont understand geisha or host clubs, are they similar to maid cafes?

hmmm 🤔 not really but they're also not completely different.

Geisha is very much in its own category, as the major focus of geisha is the preservation of traditional Japanese arts. This is why being a Geisha means you have to learn how to perform a tea ceremony, the art of flower arrangement, fan dancing, and how to play traditional instruments like the Shamisen. The art of hospitality is part of the practice, which involves not only serving a client in terms of food and drinks, but also spending time at the table in a social aspect, as well as providing entertainment such as dancing or playing music.

The host (or hostess) club is more modern, and involves primarily spending social time with your client. Host clubs do not focus on traditional arts, and are more modern and focused on the social aspects of going to a restaurant or bar. They do things like karaoke and drinking games with clients but they are not trained in classical arts. There's no real education involved beforehand and hosts tend to focus on what their strengths are and apply that to which clients match them best. (in the Shinjuku Boys documentary, you can hear the hosts describe what each others' strengths are and how they apply it to clients. Such as one being cool and aloof, one being huggable and sweet, and one being the guy who just wants everyone to have a good time)

Maid cafes are more like western restaurants, however the waiters are themed in their outfits and their behaviour (for something like a cosplay cafe they would be expected to be in character, or in a horror themed cafe they would have to stay in their creepy character). However they are more like a traditional waiter with some more opportunities for taking photos with guests and such. But they are not expected to spend individual time with clients and sit at their table as one of the social group while the client eats.

Of course I am ABSOLUTELY NOT an expert in ANY way and I am speaking just from the broad facts I read over while making the most recent video (Which goes public on Friday for everyone else!)

I am sure there are people who can reblog this who are more knowledgeable than I am, but that's the basic differences.

[star2112]

Here is the new chapter!😊

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53654863/chapters/141263836

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warnings:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive WarningsUnderage

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga)呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime)

Relationship:

Gojo Satoru/Itadori Yuuji

Characters:

Sukuna | Ryoumen SukunaGojo SatoruItadori YuujiNanami KentoYoshino JunpeiIori UtahimeOkkotsu YuutaKugisaki Nobara

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Arranged MarriageAlpha/Beta/Omega DynamicsSlow BurnHistoricalHistorical InaccuracyEventual RomancePast Fushiguro Megumi/Itadori YuujiEnemies to LoversGojo Satoru is a Little ShitMating Cycles/In HeatMating BitesUnderage SexDubious ConsentDepressed Itadori YuujiMpregItadori Yuuji is a Ray of SunshineItadori Yuuji Needs a HugGojo Satoru Needs a HugPossessive Gojo SatoruOmega Itadori YuujiAlpha Gojo SatoruAge DifferenceVaginal SexPregnant Itadori YuujiItadori Yuuji is Bad at FeelingsGojo Satoru is Bad at Feelings

Language:

English

Tale of Winter and Spring

Star2112

Chapter 14: Chapter 13

He reflected back on that fateful night's encounter as they rode home.

He knew it was naive of him to think so, but for the first time in more than a decade, he felt optimistic about his life. Perhaps he can be honest, be vulnerable, bare himself naked and express all of his emotions.

He could give this human his heart, and he wouldn't be spurned in return. His vulnerability wouldn't be taken advantage of. This boy will cherish him. Maybe it was selfish of him to put his expectations on Yuuji. But admittedly, he was a self-serving man who yearned for affection . He wanted to be loved by that sweet boy. See that smile everyday, even worse, see that grin directed at him.

“Hey, Shoko, what do you think of getting married?” At Shoko's sardonic smirk, he clarified. “About me getting married.”

“What mischief are you planning, Satoru?”

“Not anything at all. I am an upstanding alpha and a model clan head. What do you think?”

“I think the world is going to end soon.” Her casual remark made him laugh louder.

With a broad smile, Yuuji breathed in the aroma of the fresh roses he was holding, which were a blend of colors. He had plucked them himself. The gardener had informed him that compared to the previous few years, flowers had bloomed more abundantly this year.

They will give some colors to the monotonous office. He hopes this gesture will be appreciated by his husband. Excitedly, he slipped inside his husband's office. The man was seated in front of his desk, his back facing Yuuji. Until now, he hadn't given any indication of Yuuji's presence. A mischievous thought came to the forefront of his mind. Maybe he will surprise the big, strong alpha.

With a loud voice, he started. “I brought you some fl-”

“You are deeply mistaken, wifey.” He crooned the endearment with

[cozyunoist]

what do you think of william clare roberts saying that communism can have markets in his debate with martin hagglund?

'can x have y'/'does x abolish y' is always such a funny form of debate to me; at the end of the day it always hinges on conceptual redescription of these hotly contested terms, right? we can set up either a thin concept of x where it refers to a single condition, or we can take x in with all its contradictory historical valences; and we can set up a concept of y which makes it impossible to abolish, or collapse the concept of y into a sort of heavily-asterisked bad-y which can be abolished simply by making the things about y we consider bad no longer the case.

maybe this is surprising considering how much time i spend on something that looks suspiciously close to cookshop-receipt-writing,

sidenote 1, pt 1: i would argue that the only concern that motivates me to do a little cooking in my work is the understandable fear (i think implicitly shared by wcr) that this (already impossibly broad) set of possibilities is one that we can't even show exists.

but i tend to think the concept of communism has precious little determinate content. because the historical movement is both more or less dead & composed of people of people with wildly different programmatisms, in this sort of programmatic content i tend to use 'communism' very loosely, to include anything in 'the purposive replacement of generalised commodity production with... something else...'.

sidenote 1, pt 2: to recapitulate something that happens in the middle third of my book, we want to avoid the sort of useless conceptual redescription that happens when i swap out my market for a computer or set of social arrangements that do what markets do and converge on doing them how markets do them, because this would invite the question 'why bother?'. so, to get down to brass tacks we replace the concept of generalised commodity production in this thin conception of communism for a concept of what commodity production, per marx's whole thing in capital, necessarily does wrong apropos of social valuation. but then the sort of wall we run into is that people fail to meet the criterion we got out of marx everywhere we apply it: in c&c, in an ideal-type description of soviet FtAL planning, even in cogp!

i realise i've walked myself into a trap here, though, because i've done just the things i warned u about: i attempted to walk out of the terms of the question by setting up a very thin conception of communism, and then pretended that the concept of generalised commodity production was unproblematic.

sidenote 2: it's not; not because marx does a particularly poor job setting up commodity production conceptually, but because a description of an ideal average (the only level at which you can make the deductions he does) is necessarily unhelpful for the task of figuring out the fit between the stylised model and the world, even if you're able to prove, as he does, that it has a sort of shaping dynamic, wherein a social process itself described in the model forces us to behave more & more according to the entities of the model. this shaping dynamic is powerful, but definitely not sufficient for any commodity production to become totally generalised: see, for instance, the very slow entry of the sort of human activities which fall under the bracket of 'social reproduction' into the sphere of commodity exchange. it's unclear what the theoretical maximum even is--can we conceive of every interaction being commodity exchange--or why we ought to understand it to be reachable. and where this commodity exchange is only partially realised, the strong conclusions you reach in capital don't quite hold; every good is knocked off its true gcp value by the existence of a non-commodified basic good; the pseudo-natural laws needed to make these categories coherent don't quite obtain.

we're not going to make all parties happy, but what matters to me here when it comes to defining communism such that it has these boundary conditions, is something like the pragmatic rationale we give in conceptual engineering. as i say above, the minimum thing i consider to be specific about communism in the book is the resolution of the problem we attribute to commodity production, something akin to what wcr sets up as domination, although i do not find domination theory persuasive for the same reason i do not ultimately find theories of freedom broadly construed persuasive. communism is defined this way because it makes the rationale for its coming into existence readily apparent, and in the same stroke excludes all the other things we've tried.

exhausting preliminary stuff aside, let me get to the meat of your question. as for wcr: i would actually argue, as odd as it sounds, that he doesn't say communism can have markets--even though he says we likely will have markets in some places. he makes a subtler point, one whose intellectual honesty inspires in me genuine admiration, although i could not disagree more: that there is a tension between actually realising this freedom from market domination (allowing the concept for a second), and radical democratic theory, particularly one that necessitates a great deal of devolution, rousseauian plebiscites, & all. he says, in other words, that we are lying to ourselves in believing that the general will would coalesce in the way marx has it without a type of authority that marx doesn't argue for, a type of sociation we might find abhorrent, a vision of reconciliation we might find silly... furthermore, the mechanism of a wholesale replacement for market valuation ('planning' is a very poor descriptor) is necessarily one that is incompatible with the fact democratic polities may choose indifference to one another; it requires the production of a kind of information there is no reason to assume every polity may have, and the valuation decisions it makes are almost certain to cut against majoritarian wish-lists.

this all is to say, wcr reads social republicanism as radical democracy against communism, and in so doing argues that we ought to choose the former, biting the bullet on the difficulty of showing it necessarily entails the latter. i would make a similar argument, actually, just in favour of communism over republicanism-slash-democracy: democratic theory has near-zero appeal to me, because i believe a properly elaborated means of social valuation, the sort we need to replace the multitool of the market, is itself as normatively forceful, as good a grounds for practical reason at the level of the community, as anything possibly could be, and in its wake arguments about freedom (as wcr himself notes!) strike me as little more than residual liberalism.

[musicinsurancecompany]

Types of String Musical Instruments

String instruments have knitted their musical magic throughout human history. It travels from cultures and generations. From the ancient lyres of Mesopotamia to the sophisticated violins of the Baroque era, these instruments have been integral to the evolution of music.

This blog will take you through the rich canvas of string. It will also remind you about how crucial it is to buy a dedicated string instrument insurance plan to protect your gear, irrespective of its type or family. Let's read on!

Meet the Members of the String Family

Plucked String Instruments: As the name suggests, the plucked string instruments make a sound when you pluck or strum their strings. Some of the best examples include the guitar, banjo, harp, and sitar.

Guitar: It is a versatile instrument that has a long neck and comes with typically six strings, although variations do exist. It is central to diverse musical genres, including rock, jazz, blues, and classical.

Banjo: With its roots of origin in Africa and adopted in the Americas, the banjo features a circular body and four to six strings. It is a prominent part of folk, bluegrass, and country music.

Harp: Characterized by its vertical frame and strings, it is one of the oldest string instruments. You would hear it in classical, folk, and Celtic music traditions.

Sitar: It is a plucked string instrument from India. It has a gourd-shaped body and movable frets. It plays a vital role in Indian classical music, with its intricate melodies and rhythmic patterns.

No matter which type of plucked string you play or own, make sure to secure it with the right insurance policy dedicated to musical instruments.

Bowed string instruments

Bowed string instruments produce sound when you vibrate their strings with a bow. The instruments that fall under this category are:

Violin: With its four strings and high-pitched sound, the violin is a cornerstone of classical orchestras. It also features prominently in various genres, including folk, jazz, and popular music.

Viola: Slightly bigger than the violin and tuned lower, the viola adds depth and richness to ensemble performances. It plays an essential role in classical chamber music and orchestras.

Cello: Also known as the violoncello, the cello has a deep, resonant tone. It is integral to orchestral arrangements, chamber music, and solo performances.

Double Bass: It is the largest and lowest-pitched instrument in the string family. It makes the base of the sound of bands. It is indispensable in classical, jazz, and contemporary music genres.

Fretted String Instruments

Fretted string instruments feature frets. The latter are metal strips implanted along the neck to mark specific musical intervals. Examples include the following:

Bass Guitar: Similar in appearance to the guitar but with a longer neck and fewer strings, the bass guitar produces lower frequencies and serves as the rhythmic backbone in many musical ensembles.

Ukulele: A small, four-stringed instrument with roots in Hawaii, the ukulele exudes a cheerful, bright sound. It is popular in folk, pop, and Hawaiian music styles.

Zither Family

Zithers are string instruments featuring a flat body with strings stretched across it. They are played by plucking or strumming the strings.

Autoharp: Equipped with buttons or keys that dampen specific strings, the autoharp enables players to create chords effortlessly. You can see them being used in folk and country music.

Appalachian Dulcimer: Originating from the Appalachian region of the United States, the dulcimer has a long, narrow body and fretted fingerboard. Musicians cherish it for its sweet, melodic tones.

Now that you are well aware of the broadness of string instruments, probably, you have also understood how delicate these pieces of art are. Isn’t it? So, if you own a string or are planning to buy one, do not give a second thought to buying a standalone string instrument insurance plan. This may seem just another piece of formal document to you in the first place. However, its benefits go beyond the same. It protects your gear from many unforeseen events that may make you fall into financial doldrums.

[kronim195]

Other than like, some performance issues and bugs here and there, the one thing I really really really hope Larian works on is better inventory and party management. I loathe how disorganized and messy the inventory looks even after you "sort" it. All weapons fall under the broad category of 'weapon', instead of being neatly arranged so you see all the daggers, then all the swords, then all the axes etc. Same goes with potions, elixers and poisons. It makes it so even after I sort by type, I still can't find the shit I'm looking for right away.

And there needs to be TABS man. Or at the very least more categories in the search menu. There's no category for letters and books? And lIke, why is there a category called 'equipment' which has weapons and armor, and then another category JUST for weapons. What??

And then there's switching out your party. I hate having to talk to everyone to make them leave the party, then hear their snarky remark about it over and over. Take a page out of Dragon Age: Origin's book and make it so anytime you're in camp you can manage everyone's inventory at once, and everytime you leave camp, select who you want to bring from a menu.

Seriously this is like the best RPG I think I have ever played but this is the one thing about it that's being a huge buzzkill for me.

[bikerpoliticalreport]

Landmark Supreme Court Decision: Affirmative Action Policies Ruled Unconstitutional

  In a historic and momentous decision, the Supreme Court has resoundingly ruled that the affirmative action policies pursued by Harvard University and the University of North Carolina blatantly violate the Constitution. With a solid majority of 6-3, Chief Justice John Roberts was joined by Justices Samuel Alito, Clarence Thomas, Brett Kavanaugh, Neil Gorsuch, and Amy Coney Barrett in delivering this crucial verdict. Justices Ketanji Brown Jackson, Elena Kagan, and Sonia Sotomayor expressed dissenting opinions. Notably, Jackson recused herself from the Harvard ruling due to her involvement on a board associated with the university.

   The opinion of the Court unequivocally underscores the imperative of treating students as individuals based on their unique experiences rather than making admissions decisions based on their race. It unequivocally condemns universities that have persistently chosen to prioritize racial considerations over personal achievements, acquired skills, and lessons learned. The Supreme Court has declared that such an approach is incompatible with our constitutional principles.

   In his written opinion, Chief Justice Roberts asserts that the admissions systems employed by the universities in question not only do not comply with the Fourteenth Amendment’s Equal Protection Clause but also perpetuate negative stereotypes and treat race as a decisive factor in the admissions process. The Court takes a critical stance against the universities’ feeble arguments, suggesting that race is not a negative factor and asserting that the demographic composition of admitted classes would significantly change without race-based admissions.

   Furthermore, the Supreme Court points out the lack of a meaningful connection between the universities’ pursued goals and the methods they employ. It raises valid concerns about the imprecision and arbitrariness inherent in the racial categories utilized by the institutions. The Court astutely argues that such opaque and broad categorizations undermine the universities’ professed commitment to diversity and inclusion, as they fail to account for the unique characteristics and needs of specific racial and ethnic groups. The ruling rightly questions the credibility of the universities’ claims and unequivocally dismisses their request for deference in utilizing race as a factor in admissions. Havard applications have different chances of admission depending upon their race. The lowest acceptance was Asians, followed by Whites.

Screenshot: Twitter: The Rabbit Hole

   The lawsuit challenging these affirmative action policies was championed by Students for Fair Admissions, seeking to overturn previous lower court rulings that upheld the universities’ programs. This momentous Supreme Court decision serves as a resounding victory for equal protection principles and the constitutionally mandated fairness in college admissions. It signals a much-needed setback for the flawed and divisive practices of affirmative action. It can potentially bring about a reevaluation of similar policies at other institutions across the nation.

   Perhaps the most important opinion written comes from Justice Clearance Thomas. Born into poverty in the Deep South during the Jim Crow Era, Justice Thomas possesses a poignant and powerful perspective on the issue. In the opinion released on Thursday, Justice Thomas did not shy away from addressing the grave failure of our nation: slavery and its aftermath. He also criticized the Court’s misinterpretation of the Reconstruction Amendments, echoing the concerns raised by Justice Harlan in Plessy.

   Thomas firmly stated that we must not repeat this mistake simply because we believe that current arrangements are superior to the Constitution like our predecessors did. Moreover, Thomas emphasized that this ruling brings America closer to achieving a more perfect union that lives up to its promise, transcending the stains of past racism. While acknowledging the social and economic hardships that have afflicted his race and all victims of discrimination, he maintained an enduring hope that our country would fulfill the principles eloquently articulated in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution.