#grinding a stump out

[chrisstumps05]

Stump Grinding This Root ball Was A Challenge

[emoregressioncore]

you're second hand smoke, i breathe you in but honey i don't know what you're doing to me ...

[glassofpumpkinjuice]

sugar we're goin down

(oklahoma 3/11/24)

[zanncom]

hospital doodles

[blinkandyoumissit]

17 DEC 2013 | Global Grind TV • Ryan Seacrest, Fall Out Boy, Austin Mahone, & Snooki & JWoww Don The Z100 Jingle Ball Red Carpet

[malocclusive]

-having a crisis-

-still gotta work-

Ah, it's hard to spot drowning because it's so quiet.

[chrisstumpgrinding]

3 Ways to Remove a Tree Stump

[electric-emo-cat]

Vote now!! Double voting is live for the next hour!!!

I have an alarm set on my phone for this, I don’t care what the chances of winning are I’m SERIOUS about this shit

So here’s your daily reminder to vote for FOB!!

[ddejavvu]

hiccup casual dominance haddock gently chastising reader who cannot stop biting the skin around their fingers……. (i love ur blog and ur writing btw<3)

the way he grabs astrid's arms and shakes her in the second movie. mhm mhm.

--

It's something mindless, the gnawing of your teeth at the sharp edge of your finger. You have a habit of biting the skin around your nails, and this one seems to have regrown from the last time you'd severed it. It's something you'd felt with the pad of your thumb and raised to your mouth without thinking, but Hiccup notices it like it's a lit neon sign.

"Hey!" He snaps, still bent over his workbench but no longer focused on the patches of leather he's sewing together. He says nothing more, and your hand lowers unconsciously from your mouth when you raise your head to look at him. You're semi-alarmed: there's really no good reason to be yelling in a forge, it usually means something is on fire. But Grump is very much asleep in the corner, and the flames have gone out.

"What?" You ask, truly stumped. You're not trying to be obtuse, your arm halfway raised to your mouth simply doesn't register.

Hiccup raises one eyebrow- you wonder whether he's gotten his sass from Stoick or Valka, because he's got buckets of it, and he flicks his eyes pointedly downwards towards your hand, then back up at your face, unimpressed.

You mirror his gaze, realizing that your eyes fall upon the mangled skin around your ring finger's nail.

"Oh. Shit," You mumble, shame heating your cheeks. You always feel like such a baby when someone points out your bad habit, but you know Hiccup isn't trying to tease you, so you jam your hand into your lap, smearing away saliva on your pants.

"You're gonna make yourself bleed." Hiccup's voice is gentle but pointed, "Again."

You neglect to tell him that the one time he'd witnessed your teeth grind too far into the meat of your finger- enough to draw blood, hadn't been the first nor the last time you'd bled. It's not the norm, but it's not the outlier either. You merely bite your tongue, waiting for further reprimands, or for gracious silence.

He's a kind man, so he grants you the latter. But as soon as the embarrassment clears from your head, you forget all about the incident, and you become immersed in the pages of your book once more.

Off-kilter stomping, one-part boot and one-part metal peg, is all the warning you get before your hands are snatched away from you, one pulled from your lap and the other from your mouth.

You're already rushing out a, 'Sorry, sorry, sorry!' but he won't let your hand go when you tug at it. He holds it firmly in his own, his brow set in a stern frown. He looks like his father's namesake, and you foresee him being a very intimidating chief one day- if perhaps he can pile on some meat to his bones.

"Stop biting your fingers." He says, shaking your arms gently with each word, "I have eagle eyes. You forget, I have to watch Toothless constantly to make sure he doesn't steal my leg right out from under me."

Toothless's great head raises from where it had been sleepily resting on the wood floor, and he presents his disdain for Hiccup's terrible accusations in the form of a testy huff.

"I notice everything." Hiccup promises, his eyes boring into yours, "You're never gonna be able to sneak it past me."

"I'm not trying to sneak it past you!" You swear, shame once again licking at the inside of your chest. You try not to whine, but your voice takes on a hint of hopelessness, "I'm- it just happens, I don't know! I don't think about doing it, and I don't do it on purpose, it just happens! It's like breathing! How am I supposed to stop doing it when I don't even do it on purpose?"

"I will help you stop." Hiccup decides, the frown on his features softening as your desperation bleeds through, "It's okay, I'll- we'll figure something out. Like gloves!" He brightens, "Leather gloves, I can make them, that way they'll stop you from biting at your actual finger. And then it'll force you to think about it, and slowly you'll stop doing it altogether. Or something that tastes bad on your fingers. I could ask Astrid to make some of her yaknog- that stuff's thick enough to be a paste. I can spread it on your fingertips and then you'll be deterred by just the smell. Or- or a restraint! I could chain some cuffs to the bench," Hiccup gestures at the slab of wood you're sitting on, "And you can have just enough give to read your book, but not to reach for your face."

"Hold on," You stop him, knowing his mind is filling with glorious, terrible ideas, "You want to handcuff me and chain me to the bench?"

Hiccup's face shifts, clarity dawning on his bright features and dimming them, "Okay, that one- you're right, that's not my best idea."

"I don't want yaknog on my hands either," You grimace, "Can we just- try the gloves?"

"Yeah. The gloves." Hiccup nods, squeezing your hands with finality, but only releasing one- the one you'd spared. He keeps the freshly-bitten fingers in his own hand, peering worriedly at the skin to spot any blood. When he finds none, he drags your hand to his mouth, kissing gently over the side of your finger before finally letting you have it back.

"I'll start on your gloves right away," He goes back to his workbench, sliding his previous project to the side, "Snotlout is just gonna have to wait for his new saddle. As long as Hookfang doesn't burn through the one he's got, he'll be fine for a few more days. But you need those gloves now." Hiccup stares pointedly at you from across the room, "For now, please try not to bite your fingers. Or I'll sick Toothless on you."

Big green eyes stare at you with interest from across the room, but the dragon won't pounce without Hiccup's command. You'd rather like to keep breathing clean air and not fish breath, so you tuck your hands beneath your thighs on the bench, electing to only remove one to turn a page of your book.

"Perfect," Hiccup grins, a hint of pride in his smile as he grabs for a fresh panel of leather, "I'll have your gloves done in no time."

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Miguel Having A Crush On You Would Include…

Warnings: Implications of Smut, Obsessive Miguel, Possessive Miguel, Implied Yandere Miguel, Miguel in Love, Vampire Marking, Marking (Kind Of), Fluff, Typical Crush Behaviour, Petnames/Nicknames, No Pronouns used for Reader Except ‘You’.

Him being absolutely OBSESSED with you.

Literally completely feral, down bad, infatuated, etc.

Initially, when he realised he’d started liking you in a romantic sense, he tried pushing you away; tried drowning his feelings in work, missions, Hell – even resolving petty spats between the Spiderpeople at the base. Anything to exorcise this rising feeling of butterflies in his chest whenever you were around. Vulnerability.

However, you were persistent.

You’d bring him lunch whenever you knew it would be a long day in the office for him, telling him that “Even the best superhero needs a sandwich every now and then!”

And by God were your sandwiches phenomenal.

Though he’d never admit it, his heart would skip a beat whenever the door to his office opened, knowing that it could be you paying him a visit with your delectable lunchables, or even just to check in on him. Make him feel special in ways nobody else had or could in years.

Eventually, this turned into a daily affair; one Miguel would watch the clock for, wait for. Long for.

Miguel also tried hiding his feelings when you brought him hand-crafted, love-filled desserts that he just couldn’t bring himself to ignore or throw away. Or, when Miles offered to take them off his hands, let anyone else have.

Eventually, there isn’t a day that goes by where you aren’t with him in some capacity. And it shows.

Whenever you’re late, even only by a few minutes, Miguel can feel his heart spike, asking Lyla where you are, if she can track you, etc.

“Sounds like you liiiike (Y/N)~” Lyla gives Miguel a knowing smile.

Miguel just grunts, ignores her. Though, he can feel the corners of his lips turning up, and hides them behind a well-placed hand, rubbing his temples.

Soft glances whenever you’re in the room, all his attention turning to you and you alone.

He just loves to stare at you. You’re so beautiful that he can’t understand why nobody else passing you has to stitch their dropped jaw back onto their face.

Then again, he is grateful. The fury that bubbles inside him whenever he catches someone glancing at you, gaze lustful, is all-consuming, enough to make his teeth grind, his eyes bleed a light rouge hue, piercing. He makes sure they’ll never cross paths with you again.

Gradually, your warmth and kindness thaws his walls, and, once the floodgates are open, neither you nor he can predict the dark ocean that is to flood your lives.

He doesn’t mean to throw himself full-force into his feelings, but after being so guarded for so long, he just can’t help it.

Becomes overly-concerned with every facet of your life. More so than he already was.

Constantly trying to find out information about you, though being stumped as to how to do so without arousing your suspicion.

Asks Lyla to track you, see what you’re doing, who you’re with, their relation to you.

However, she begins to deny Miguel such luxuries, telling him to “Grow a pair and ask (Y/N) yourself!”

When he realises Lyla is steadfast in her resolve, he does so. Reluctantly.

Though, once he starts, he finds it difficult to stop.

“Where are you going after work?”, “Are you going out tonight with anyone?”, “Who?”

Eventually, you just look up at him, seemingly oblivious to his growing desperation, and say: “Gosh, Miguel, you’re starting to sound like you’re my boyfriend or something!”

His heart stops. His throat dries and he just looks at you, eyes wide.

One second passes. Then two. Then–

“Oh– uh– yeah... I mean, not that that’s weird, right? Unless you think it is weird, then–”

Lyla has to step in and save him from himself, telling him he has ‘urgent business’ in one of the other wings of the facility.

His suit suddenly feels too tight and too hot beneath the collar whenever he has to speak with you alone.

And tight in…other places when his mind wanders to the more intimate aspects of your hypothetical relationship.

Miguel likes to rationalise this as him preparing how best to please you when the time, inevitably, comes for him to claim you, make you his. At least, this staves off the post-nut clarity (guilt) just a little longer when he’s pursuing a release, blasphemous images of you running through his mind.

A good example of this occurs almost nightly, with Miguel thoroughly loving a pillow clad in a shirt he’d lent you once, your scent still woven, though faded, into the fabric.

Many nights, his face is pressed to the cotton of that shirt, muffling his lips and his moans as his teeth sink into your temporary body, extending, marking, hand moving fervently beneath the bed sheets, your name the chant of many a spell of ardour.

You might mistake that red glow on his cheeks for the illumination of the console screens, but anyone who looks close enough knows better.

He loves showing you around the facility. Especially when your eyes light up and you remark how intelligent he is for “Doing this all on your own,”

Any compliment from you makes his heart thrum and his cheeks burn with the urge to smile. And, if it’s only you in his company, he does so.

Maybe even give you a nervous laugh.

You’re the only one he feels comfortable with showing emotion to.

He hopes that his displays aren’t lost on you; that you know him well enough to know that every smile, every laugh, is for you and you only.

And he is determined to, one day, make that smile of yours for him. And only him.

But, for now, he will content himself with daydreams and night ventures into territory not yet known, all the while possessing a seat beside you, being a shoulder for you to cry on, an ear into which you may pour your worries, a hero on whom you can always depend in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[chrisstumps05]

Why do people remove stumps?

[bunni-v1]

relating to your last ask that included arguments between shadow milk and his lover, i cannot get the following picture out of my head:

his doll, while a bit (a bit more) off-put by the whole truthless recluse situation, is very much "whatever, their soul jam, their business" about it

however-

what grinds their gears is the fact that kids (aka the gingerbrave gang) are involved

i can just imagine them going off on shadow milk like "listen, i get it, your plans but they are kids. literal children?? keep them out of this-" "no, doll, listen, they're scheming kids-"

ik this isn't really an ask, but i just wanted to share it :)) love your writing, you're amazing, and your shadow milk headcanons live rent free in my brain (actually i am paying them-)

Lolololol (Feel like a mysmes character typing ts... okay), I guess we can say this is ur rent. I'm happy for your payment though, it's good food for thought my love! Have a little midnight snack as a treat!

Just imagine you're someone who's more compassionate. It's something that Shadow Milk Cookie cherishes about you... when it's directed at him. You're always worrying over him and his little henchmen, Candy Apple especially since she's so young. It's annoying, but it's sweet how much you dote on them, and he can't say he dislikes the idea of you in a more parental role...

It becomes an issue when those little pests come around. You've never nosed your way into his business at all, leaving things between him and Pure Vanilla to be what they are. He prefers it like that, keeping you out of trouble was always a positive on his mind. Oh, but then those cute little annoying snotty nosed brats come along and ruin everything.

It wouldn't have been an issue if you hadn't overheard him threaten to drown them. It not like he was actually going to, he was just poking at Truthless Recluse, that's all. You didn't take it though, you were all kinds of pissed off at him.

He thinks it's a silly thing to be upset about, you know he didn't care enough about those kids to do much of anything to them. Yet, you remain upset, even after things are done and Compassionate Pure Vanilla has TEMPORARILY taken him and his plans down. It stumps him, he can't possibly wrap his mind around what's gotten into you. Such a small insignificant act is nothing compared to half of what you've seen him do.

When you refuse to say more than a few words to him, he starts to worry. What did he do wrong? Well, you told him, but why was it so bad this time? The best answers come from the source, of course, but getting it out of you might be a little harder than he likes.

"Doll? Dolly? Little star? Won't you talk to me?" He pouts, trailing behind you like a lost puppy.

You might've teased him if you weren't so upset now. You keep your nose upturned, doing your best not to crack under his relentless pressure. He could be so persistent about these things, and normally you would give, but he'd crossed a line this time. You didn't mess around with children, and he should've known better.

A drawn-out sigh comes from behind you, "Are you still upset about the drowning thing? It was all in good fun I promise! Nothing to worry your pretty little head over!"

He didn't know better, though. For the former fount of knowledge -- and someone who could literally read minds if he wanted to -- he was terribly unaware sometimes. It made you so angry, and you felt bad for being angry because he really didn't get it.

"They're just insignificant little kids, it's a silly thing to be angry about." He continues, and oh that gets a reaction out of you.

You turn around to face him, the boredom in his expression only making that anger bubble up more and more. You really can't hold it in anymore.

"Exactly, they're kids! Just kids, they don't have any stake in this. Why couldn't you let well enough alone for once!" You shout, and it feels so good to get out. Pettiness aside, you'd wanted to get it through his head since this all started.

You watch his face shift through surprise and annoyance and then flatten into an unreadable expression. It was unsettling to see, especially pointed in your direction. Still, you tried to stand your ground, though you'd never felt so small next to him. He lets the silence linger in a purposeful move, you're not sure why. It keeps you on edge the whole time, unable to tell what his next move might be.

"Dolly, they were in my way, I had no choice-" He starts, but you've had enough of the manipulation and sitting quietly.

"What threat are children to you?" Your voice breaks halfway through the sentence, tears you didn't realize were building pouring over your cheeks, "You are so frustrating sometimes. In what universe would I ever be alright with hurting children? Sometimes it's like you don't even know me!"

You don't realize he's in front of you until he's lifting your face in his hand with uncharacteristic gentleness. His face is still flat, but you see the worry shining behind his eyes.

"Y'know you shouldn't lie to the literal embodiment of deceit," He says quietly as he brushes your tears away.

You know you shouldn't, but you laugh a little at that, "I'm sorry. I'm just upset."

"No, really?"

"You don't get to joke around right now," you scoff with a halfhearted shove at his shoulder.

He hums, leaning into your vision so you have to look at him, "It's making you smile, though."

"Shadow Milk Cookie."

"Okay, okay. I get the message," He backs off, "Just don't cry anymore, please?"

You smile, "Maybe if you promise not to involve those kids more than you have to, please?"

He seems to think it over like it was a hard decision. He doesn't think much longer when you flatten a glare on him, "Alright, it's a promise! You can look at my fingers, they're not crossed either! I'll keep my word!"

You scoff at him, "What do I see in you?"

"My charm and wit, of course!" He puffs up like a proud cat, the usual grin back on his face.

"Just kiss it better you dummy!"

"Whatever you ask for, you shall receive, my little star!"

And kiss it better he does, until you can hardly remember why you were so mad at him to begin with.

[rainrot4me]

Better Than Him

Summary: Nina wanted nothing more than to impress Jeff. So, as her best friend, she sought your help on how to get his attention. But when a quick lesson on how to kiss turns intense quickly, you feel it's only right to prove to her she's worth more than him.

Characters: Nina the Killer x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Friends with benefits, humiliation, Jeff is a douchebag, inexperienced, teaching, vaginal grinding, tribbing, eating out, overstimulation, first time, revenge, mention of broken bones

Words: 4.3k

As a creep, you knew all too well the weird tendencies that the other members of the mansion had. 

Especially Nina. But she was your best friend, so of course you let her habits slide more than others. But as she lay in your lap, sobbing about how Jeff brushed her off again, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. It was exhausting, truly. Her every waking thought and action seemed to revolve around the pale killer, but you could never understand why.

Jeff was ugly as shit, face all mangled and gnarly. His personality was a drainer to be around, always cussing you out or telling you how shit you were at something. But the worst thing about him was the constant stench of rot that came off of him, the aftermath of him murdering some helpless guy and never showering after. He wasn’t pleasant to you, but no guy in the mansion was. The only one you could stand was Jack, his quiet demeanor was his only saving quality.

You rubbed Nina’s back, cooing some bullshit about how he would come around eventually and how he didn’t deserve her. You honestly couldn’t care less about him, but it was anything to get Nina to hush. She finally sat up, holding your hands as her highlighted hair sat dishevelled on her forehead. “You have to help me.” She gasped out, eyes frantic as she gripped your hands tight, her neon press on nails digging into your skin. You stared at her, confused. “Help you how?” She smiled, her gapped teeth shining bright. 

“Jeff doesn’t pay any attention to me.” You knew that, obviously. “So, I have to impress him somehow. Like, with something he likes.” She grinned, waiting for you expectantly. You tried to wrack your brain of all the crap Jeff has mentioned liking before, but all you could think of was the porn magazines he hid not so well under his bed. You had found them by accident after Jeff stole your guns over some petty argument, that being the first place you thought to look but ending with an even bigger argument than before. It ended with you locked out of his room and his reputation amongst the other guys little to none. But at least you found an answer.

“Listen, Nina, I don’t thi-” She brushed her bangs from her face, eyes wide and pleading. “Oh please, I don’t care. Whatever Jeff likes I’ll be sure to like too.” You groaned, letting go of Nina’s hands and laying back on her bed, her dark room comforting you. Nina wasn’t at all the porn star type, especially not what Jeff was after. He was still mentally stumped as a horny teenager, so any girl wasn’t good enough unless her ass and tits stuck out farther than the rest of her two-inch waist. It was sick, but you knew Nina wasn’t at all what he was going for. The crazy don’t go for even crazier. Nina was just out of cards. You grumbled.

“Jeff is a pervert, alright? Like… only goes after girls that look like supermodels type shit.” You groaned, refusing to look her in the face. The silence was awkward, you only glanced up to see her lost in thought, that same look she got every time she was contemplating something. “Nina-” But she was already up, already pulling her closet open and shuffling through her clothes. You sat up, trying to get a look at what she was searching for before she pulled it out.

It was a tiny pleated skirt, black and leather that was way too tiny for your liking. She tugged down her patterned skirt, your eyes flicking towards the ceiling quickly to not stare as she stripped. When she stumbled over to her full-length mirror in the corner of her room, you glanced back down, cheeks flushing red. She turned in the mirror, getting good luck with the short shirt that barely even covered anything. Her ass was practically out, the miniskirt just centimeters away from showing her clothed cunt as well. Her panties were purple and pink striped, but you didn’t even have to guess. “Oh, this has to work.” She giggled, shaking her tiny ass teasingly as you shook your head, standing up to meet her. 

“Listen, Nina-” But she was already rushing towards the door, swinging it open as the skirt swayed against her pale skin. “I’m gonna go look for Jeff. Wish me luck!” Before you could say anything else she was out in the hallway, skipping down the stairs and out of view. Jeff was going to kill her if you didn’t first.

-

You heard the crying before you even saw her. It hadn’t even been an hour, but you groaned as you sat up on Nina’s bed, already knowing exactly what was coming. You stayed in her room, opting for the comforting space in case something like this did happen. 

Bursting through the door, Nina’s mascara-streaked cheeks were flushed from crying. She fell on top of your lap, you were quick to scoop her up and sit her comfortably against you as she cried into your shoulder. You knew it wasn’t going to work, but you were going to kill Jeff anyway. You rubbed her back, shushing her as she sobbed loudly, her tears soaking into your shirt and making you cringe. It was routine at this point. Nina would storm in crying, come up with some new hope as to how to impress Jeff, and then disappear before starting the whole cycle over. But this time, there were no questions of what she should do or pleas for compliments. She only lay there, face tucked into the crook of your neck and crying softly. You continued to rub her back, wondering what in the world had happened to make Nina, the most talkative girl you knew, stay silent. 

“Nina?” You cooed, pushing her shoulders back to get a look at her face. Her cheeks were flushed, mascara smudged against her eyes and running, her jagged smile anything but happy. “Wanna tell me what happened?” She wiped her eyes, unzipped her jacket and tossed it onto the floor before laying down on the bed, dragging you down to lay next to her. You held her close, the dark room giving a nice blanket of comfort around the two of you.

“Well,” She started, sniffling. “He liked it, I guess.” You were stunned honestly, turning to look at her face as she continued. “He was in the living room with the other guys, so I walked through, hoping I would catch his attention. It did, and he followed me down the hall, pushing me into the bathroom. I kind of panicked, so I asked him to stop. I pushed him off of me, but he kept grabbing me, trying to pull my panties down.” Your blood was boiling, hands already pressed against the couch and ready to storm downstairs and give Jeff a piece of your mind, but Nina held you close, keeping you down. “Eventually, I guess he got tired of me fighting and shoved me off. He told me I was an ugly… an ugly bitch and that I was lucky he didn’t embarrass me in front of everyone.” 

Nina went quiet, holding your waist close as she silently cried. You held her close, staring at the ceiling as anger raged inside of you. You knew Jeff was a prick, but to do this to her was uncalled for. You sat up, brushing Nina off as you stormed to the door, but Nina’s arms quickly wrapped around you, pulling you back to her bed. You groaned, glancing at her as she quietly begged you not to say anything. She didn’t want him more upset than he already was. You wanted to tell her off, but you guessed that was her fangirl talking. But against your better instinct, you sat back down, Nina quick to hold you close again. 

Her crying had subsided, small pitiful whines replacing them as she wiped her mascara. It was breaking your heart. “Nina. You have to understand that Jeff is a sick fuck. If you’re not willing to do whatever he says, you’re no good, alright?” You grumbled, rubbing her smeared eyeshadow off of her eyelid. “But you’re beautiful, gorgeous even. You can’t let a man who’s set in his dumbass ways dictate your feelings.” She nodded quietly, staring anywhere but into your worried eyes. You hoped your words had reached her, but as she sat up, determination in her face, you knew your hopes were already useless. 

“You’re right. Jeff isn’t going to like me if I don’t like what he likes.” You rolled your eyes hard, groaning into your hands. “I have to show him I can do it!” She was hopeless. But at least the girl had determination like nothing you ever saw. Nina turned to you, wrapping her hands around your shoulders, excitement in her eyes. “You have to teach me how to kiss.” 

You were taken back a second, eyes scanning her flushed face for any signs of some joke. But she was dead serious, smile wide and goofy and she held you stiff. “Nina, I-” But she was already pressing closer to you, crisscrossed knees pressed flush against yours. “Listen! You’re my best friend, [Y/N]. I need you to teach me how.” She was pleading, bright eyes begging you. This was becoming awkward, your weight shifting uncomfortably in her hands. But if you knew Nina, she wouldn’t stop, no matter how badly she needed to. 

“Fine.” You gritted, her smile lighting up. “But this is it. I’m done with your dumb Jeff fantasies.” You were stern, but it was the only way you knew she would listen. Nina nodded quickly, her body pressing close eagerly. In truth, you had fucked around with some relationships before becoming a full-fledged creep, but you were no expert in the sport. Nina, on the other hand, was completely clueless. As far as you knew, she was a stone-cold virgin, her obsession with Jeff giving her some fucked up chastity belt for the killer. You figured you would rather her go in somewhat familiar with the whole deal than get laughed out. 

You brushed your hair off your shoulders, focusing in on her as you spoke delicately. “Firstly, just follow me, or, Jeff, I guess. Don’t try to force anything, just let your lips glide with his. He’s probably going to be pretty rough, but I want you to just learn how to go slow first.” It was like teaching someone how to drive, except you were all nervous and hot. Nina didn’t seem fazed as she mentally jotted down what you were telling her, excitement running through her small frame. You smiled nervously, unsure how to initiate the whole thing. “So, I guess just… uhm…” You sat forward, eyes glancing nervously between Nina’s big eyes and her lip-glossed lips, wrapping your hands around her forearms. From this angle, it was almost impossible not to get a full shot of her panties from the tiny skirt she still wore. You blushed, focusing on her before leaning forward, her eyes flicking excitingly at your lips. “Just do what I do…” You mumbled, your lips inches from hers. 

When Nina pressed forward quickly, finally closing the distance, it shocked you. Your heart was pounding in your ears, fingers gripping her arms nervously as you began to slide your lips against her smooth ones. Her lipgloss tasted sweet, both of your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to slowly make out with her. Nina was pressing close, her lips moving just a little too eagerly for your pace, so you had to slow her down. Letting her arms go, you slid your hands on either side of her head, tangling your fingers in her dark hair and angling her head, guiding her lips to move against yours easily. She happily complied, her hands reaching up to cup yours as her lips followed yours nicely. You were making out eagerly, every brush of your lips more electric than you thought it was supposed to be. But you had little time to contemplate your confusion as Nina slid her arms around your neck and swung her leg over your thighs, straddling you as she refused to let off your lips. 

This was quickly spiralling out of control, but when Nina’s little breathy whines broke through every gap in your kissing, your resolve was beginning to melt. Your hands slid to her waist, her thin body pressed close onto yours. You were both breathing heavily, chests pressed against each other as you practically swallowed the other in heavy kisses. This was becoming too much for her, Nina’s whines growing louder as you peeked your eyes open, seeing her brows knitted roughly. You slid your hand against her cheek, pushing her back as you both caught your breath, lips swollen and cheeks red. “Uh-” You panted, quickly becoming aware of the position the two of you were in and growing anxious. Nina only smiled, scanning your face as she caught her breath, wiping her lips off her sweet lipgloss. “I think… I think I need one more example.” She giggled, eyes heavy as she leaned back in slowly. You nodded, unsure of what you were even thinking as you slipped your hand into the back of her hair, fisting it softly. Nina smiled back into the kiss, her lips dancing with yours comfortably. You were just helping her learn. So of course you needed to show her every possible scenario that Jeff was going to throw her way.

At least that’s what you told yourself as you gripped your hands under the thighs, flipping the two of you over and pressing her back into the bed. Nina giggled, her arms gripping your shoulders tight as you pressed against her lips hard, roughly tugging her bottom lip with your teeth. “Jeff’s… probably- ah, probably going to be rough. So you gotta… gotta be ready.” You panted against her lips, placing your arms on either side of her head as you nestled between her legs. She nodded, moving away from your lips to press her swollen lips against the corner of your mouth, pecking slowly down to your neck. You gasped, her sweet chaste kisses sending goosebumps against your skin. “Ah- Nina-”

“It’s okay,” She purred, placing her wet kiss under your chin. “I’m just trying to, ah, see what I should try on Jeff.” You couldn’t protest any logical answer as she slid her hands under your shirt, her cold fingers scratching gently and making you groan. “Yeah… yeah that makes sense…” You whined, Nina’s hands pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it to the side. She pushed your shoulders back, rolling you over so she was straddling your lap again, your back pressed against her bed. “Like, I wonder…” Nina’s face was red as she slid down, her lips pressing sweetly against your chest and down in between your tits. “Would Jeff like this?” You glanced down nervously as she palmed your bra, kneading your tits in her delicate hands. Your face exploded with heat, a small gasp falling from your lips as she pushed your bra up off your tits, letting the mounds fall exposed. You glanced at her nervously, unsure if you should draw a line. This wasn’t a learning experience anymore, this was a horny virgin finally getting to release herself. And who were you, as her best friend, to deny her that feeling?

You let yourself relax, reaching behind your back to unclip your bra and sliding it off your chest, Nina’s eager eyes watching closely. “I don’t know. Maybe try and see if he would…” You purred, Nina leaning down quickly to grip your tit, licking your nipple and sighing at the feeling of the nub on her tongue. “I think Jeff would be sensitive… I would like that…” She cooed, rolling your perky nipples between her cool fingers and purring as you squirmed. She watched you closely, her hips slowly beginning to grind down against your crotch as she took your right tit in her mouth, sucking lazily. You tangled your fingers in her smooth hair, tugging lightly as she sucked and nibbled on your already sensitive flesh. She groaned, brows furrowing as she fought to stay sucking on your tit like a kitten. It was overwhelming, your skin hot and flushed as you squirmed under her. 

When she finally popped off for air, you took your chance and pushed her up, smashing your lips back against her as you tugged on her hoodie, tugging the purple fabric over her head and smiling when she whined. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, her bare skin and small tits exposed against her pale skin. You leaned forward, her hands pushing on your shoulders as you kissed her chest, pushing her back onto the sheets. Her dark room made her flushed skin look so pretty and supple under your kisses, her skin coming to life with goosebumps as you kissed down further. That stupid miniskirt was riding up, basically covering nothing as you tugged it down her thighs, tossing it to the floor as you spread her knees, her small whines making you blush. The purple and pink panties she wore matched nicely with her thigh-highs, her pale thighs shaking slightly as you smiled at her already evident arousal. “I think,” You cooed, unbuttoning your pants and sliding them down your legs, your dark panties contrasting nicely with hers. “Jeff would enjoy eating you out… Getting you ready before he fucked you…” You grinned, running your thumb along the wet spot on her panties and making her whine behind her hands. She nodded slowly though, letting your hands press her knees apart as you tugged her panties down, careful to keep her thigh-highs rolled up. Your heart was thumping as you nestled between her thighs, Nina’s already dripping cunt pink and cute, just like her. Your own arousal was pounding between your legs, but as a good friend, you had to put her first.

Rubbing your fingers against her clit, you leaned in, teasing her entrance with your tongue. She was already a squirming mess, back arching and knees clasping together as you licked against her folds, tasting her sweet arousal. You rubbed her clit slowly as you dipped your tongue past her entrance, chasing that addicting taste of her. Nina moaned out, her hands tangling in your hair and tugging as you curled against her walls. Her arousal gushed against your tongue, your own pants mixing with her moans as you ate her out eagerly. You couldn’t think straight, Nina’s breathy pleas to go faster making your head spin. It wasn’t long before you were gripping her thighs, nails digging into her pale skin as you tongue-fucked Nina quickly. You moved quickly between flicking your tongue against her sweet clit and dipping past her tight folds back into her warm walls. Her taste was heavenly, your eyes squeezed shut as you begged your tongue to press further, doing anything to hear her sweet moans ring in your head. 

Her hips were bucking, your tongue curling sharply against her tight walls until you felt her cry out, warm arousal rushing against your tongue. You chased her orgasm, lapping up every sweet flavor that danced on your tongue until she was gripping her thighs tightly around your head. You refused to let up, even when her walls clamped so tight you had to move to her clit, you still licked long stripes, relishing in the way her hips bucked against the sensitivity. “[Y/N]! God- please-” She begged, pulling against your hair desperately. But only when you felt like you had tasted every inch of her did you let up, panting heavily as she whined. You slid up her body, wrapping your arm around her waist as you pressed your lips against hers, shoving your tongue into her warm mouth and begging her to taste how sweet she was. “Taste… so good, Nina…” You whined, grinding your clothed cunt down against hers. 

Nina sucked on your tongue, swirling hers into your mouth and swapping spit. You were both groaning, hands rubbing against each other’s bodies until your cunt desperately begged against your panties. You raised up, Nina whining as you let off her mouth but smiling when she saw you sliding your panties off your thighs and onto the floor. “I think…” She panted, tugging you closer to her. “That Jeff would want, uh, a blowjob, right? I think it’s time he got a little rough…” She smiled nervously, tugging you to straddle her face. You smiled eagerly, nodding your approval as you positioned your knees on either side of her head, spreading your throbbing cunt with your fingers and watching as Nina blushed wildly. She was quick to wrap her arms around your thighs and pull you down, shoving her warm tongue against your cunt. You groaned, her tongue sliding against your clit and flicking gently. She tried desperately to mimic your actions, sliding her tongue against your folds before pressing into your entrance, moaning at your taste. Sighing, you sat down further, letting Nina’s tongue lap at your sensitive walls until you were grinding down lowly, hands resting against your thighs to keep yourself steady. Nina was kneading your ass, her nails scratching against your skin as she delved deeper, curling her tongue the best she could. It was heaven, your clit throbbing hard as she moaned against you. 

As much as you would have liked to let her eat you out some more, you needed to feel her, bad. All sense of what Jeff would’ve wanted to be damned, you needed to feel her yourself. Pulling off of her tongue, she whined, chasing your thighs before you laid back against the bed, gripping her arms to straddle your waist. “Need you, Nina… I mean, Jeff- Ah, whatever. I need to feel you.” You groaned, Nina’s heavy eyes watching you carefully as you spread your legs, pushing her hips back until your folds slid against each other. When your clits bumped, Nina moaned, her hands reaching down to grip your tits, rolling the mounds in her hands. You gripped her hips tightly, tugging her hips to rub her sensitive cunt against yours. “Fu- Fuck me… [Y/N], please…” She ground her hips down, riding your cunt easily. You leaned your head back, watching through hooded eyes as Nina pulsed her hips, your clits rubbing against each other roughly until you were both squirming. 

If you had a cock, you’d pound the poor girl, leaving her breathless. But as she stuttered her hips against your soaked cunt, you couldn’t help but push your legs apart further, pressing your hips up against hers. You tugged her hips up off of you, nails gripping her pale skin until you pushed them back down quickly, repeating until you were bounding her hips against yours. Your clits slammed together quickly, both of you crying out at the sensitive impact. You felt her arousal dripping from her cunt, her soaked folds pressing against yours. “Gonna fuck your cute little cunt with mine- Gonna, ah, make you cum way harder than Jeff’s dumb cock could.” You gritted out, every time you pulled her hips down you quickly ground up against her clit, making her cry out. Nina’s fingers fiddled with your nipples, her jaw hanging open as sweet moans spilt from her lips. “Oh, yes- fuck! Make me cum!” She whined, clit bouncing on yours roughly. She was panting hard, her small tits bouncing cutely as she rode your cunt, chasing her orgasm. “Yeah? Go on, Nina. Come on me, let me feel it. Let Jeff know how good it feels.” You coaxed her, teeth gritted as you held her hips down, sensitive nubs rubbing roughly against one another. 

Nina’s eyes rolled hard, her back arching sharply until she was crying out. You felt her warm arousal spill down onto your cunt, her loud moans and whines enough to push you over yourself. Stuttering your hips against hers, you held her tight, arousal crashing into you roughly. You both whined loudly, your grip guiding her hips to slowly grind down against your clit, chasing your orgasm. 

When Nina finally collapsed on top of you, you both breathed heavily, chests heaving as sweat dripped down your cheeks. Nina’s face was flushed and hot, her heavy eyes laying next to yours as you stared at her, admiring her fucked-out expression. You wrapped your arms around her waist, sliding her off of you and to your side, hugging her tightly against your waist. Finally catching your breath, you pressed small kisses against her cheeks, her skin hot under your lips. She smiled softly, heavy eyes evident of her tiredness. You brushed her bangs from her face, tucking her messy hair behind her ear as she snuggled in close to your side, breathing deeply. 

“Get some sleep.” You whispered, pulling the messy sheets over the two of you as your sweaty bodies pressed close. You rubbed her back, sighing as you watched her bright eyes close. Maybe Nina was a hopeless romantic. But as her friend, her best friend, you were always willing to put her first. No matter what. 

-

Nina wouldn’t realize that you had slipped out of bed hours later, her soft snores making you smile as you redressed yourself. She also wouldn’t realize until she woke that Jeff was screaming in agony a couple of yards from the mansion, arguing with you to let him go. 

But when he returned to the mansion with a couple of broken fingers and a black eye, she wouldn’t have to guess who did it.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[usetheeauthor]

Like Prey (MDNI+18)

Virgin!Ralph Penbury x TimeTraveler!Mean!F!Reader

Summary: Ralph’s the one hunting you down. So why is it that he feels like prey?

Tw/tags: smut, loss of virginity, small dick!ralph (little ones deserve love, too also he’s got big balls), oral sex (f.receiving), silly humor, unprotected p in v , creampie, degradation/teasing kink, dirty talk, intense orgasms, breeding kink, primal/chase kink, brief dom!ralph, brief body insecurities on Ralph’s part, little fluff, nipple play, doggystyle sex in the woods, desperate kinda rough sex, licking, french kissing, grinding, getting caught (surprise guest: Lauren)…I think that covers everything

Victory is on the tip of his panting tongue. He could almost taste it…

…Or was that just the taste of blood…

Ralph knows he’s not the most athletic man. Hell, he’s never had to lift as little as a finger due to his abundant wealth. But you made him an offer he couldn’t refuse: 30 minutes on the clock, Ralph is meant to hunt you down within this large pine forest, catch you before the end of time, and you’ll surrender yourself to him totally!

After all the push and shove, finally you’ve given him the chance…with some obstacles to hurdle, of course. But Ralph would happily tackle them with the energy of a trained show dog if it meant you were the prize.

Maybe he’s not the best at running but at least the outdoor skills he’s learned from his boy scouting days should give him some advantage. It’s too bad you failed to disclose that you, too, were once both a girl scout and an active member of your high school and college sports teams.

Ralph pats a handkerchief over his reddening sweaty face before wringing out the cloth and placing it back into his shirt pocket. He raises the aluminum round water canteen to his dry lips, shaking it above his tongue when no liquid produces. Frustrated, he tosses it to the ground before moving on to something else that would replenish his energy.

Removing his backpack, he rummages through it for a snack bar. A quick bite should boost his morale and strength. He sits on a nearby tree stump, munching away. Some pesky mosquitoes begin to buzz around him, the honey scent within the snack bar attracting them. Bloody hell…he wishes he hadn’t worn these shorts but he wanted to look the part of a hunter and you, the innocent deer.

But this was only just the beginning of his problems. The food had now attracted a curious squirrel, scurrying its way up to him. Ralph puffs his chest, recalling an animal fact about potential dangerous squirrel encounters: make yourself look bigger.

Or…was that for bears?

The squirrel screeches at him and Ralph raises his hands in caution, trying to reason with the animal. Instead the furry fiend lunges forward in attack, prompting Ralph to yelp and make for an exit.

Ralph’s going in the complete opposite direction from where he’d believe to have seen you and, according to his pocket-watch, he’s only got 5 minutes left. After a couple of circles around the area, he finally makes the smart decision to throw the snack far enough for the squirrel to head in its direction. He takes the time to catch his breath, desperately gasping for air.

“Oh, lover boy,” You call over his shoulder, stepping away once he’s turning to face you. “You’ve still got 10 seconds left on the clock. Catch me.”

“Coming, darling.” Ralph rasps weakly but he’s immediately tripped up by one shoe he’d removed and thrown at the creature. Now he lies on his back, hyperventilating and defeated. It is officially…

Game. Over.

“I win.” You gloat.

“That you did, darling. Good show.” Ralph praises exhaustively, attempting to sit up. With your foot on his shoulder, you push him back into the dirt.

He glances up at you in both confusion and awe as you lower yourself onto his lap, sitting directly on his hardening member. You look absolutely stunning in your thin tulle-like night dress that clings to your perspired body like a second skin. The image is reminiscent to gazing upon a greek sculpture with a thin veil of fabric wrapped around your voluptuous frame that leaves little to the imagination, breasts and warm core silhouetted by the sheer cloth. You don fluffy deer ears above your head along with a matching tail that fit nicely inside your ass.

Such a sinful sight yet so heavenly that it burns his eyes as if he’s staring directly at a celestial being. Ralph doesn’t think he deserves to witness such beauty but you wanted him to gaze upon the unholiness so he’d be exposed to the kinkiest of things people of his time had not yet seen before.

You lower, hovering your face over his before your tongue traces along his jaw, collecting the sweat streaming down it. “I really like seeing the lengths you’d go through for me. So uncoordinated, pathetic, shameful…and yet you make me so wet. I want to see that look on your face all of the time, I think.”

Before he can speak, your lips are planted on his cracked lips. Your hot mouth and your eager tongue is a devilish combination. You lap wildly against his tongue, ensuring you exchange saliva.

He’s inexperienced; an untouched virgin ready to be defiled and sullied. His heart pounds in his chest at an alarmingly fast rate, not believing that this could be happening to him.

And yet your hands interlocking with his ground him—literally ground him as you pin his hands down to the dirt. Your hips undulate, finding the perfect position to capture his clothed mushroom tip between your sopping folds.

Ralph can hardly breathe from both the overwhelming sensation of your kisses and the exhaustion of today’s hunt. You are anything but merciful to his plight, however, as you give him no room to catch his breath. All he can do is find some moments to gasp in between devouring kisses before your tongue shoves back down his throat. This was a kind of hunger he didn’t think to be possible but it’s better than he could have ever dreamed.

“Want your cock.” You whine against his eager tongue that returned your feverish licking in kind.

“You can have it,” He rasps just as desperately, a cry bubbling in his throat when you offer sloppy kisses onto his thick neck. “It has always been yours to own.”

You moan at his response. Regardless of his inexperience, the man had a way with words and knew exactly the kind of things to say to satisfy you. Such a good boy.

“Just one request?” He asks hotly in your ear, pulling you close against him; chest to chest, with his large gorgeous hands once you release them.

“Go on, Ralphie.” You coo, rolling your hips even harder against him and eliciting yet another high-pitched whine.

“I wish to taste you,” He says, begging. “I’ve dreamt of your taste for so many lonely nights. Delusions of you in the empty space in my bed as if you were really mine. With just a taste, if i never get to have you again, I think savoring you will be just enough to keep me sane.”

Overcome with emotion by his words, you kiss him passionately once more, sucking on his tongue as if you, too, wished to savor his taste.

“What an eager little virgin you are,” You cruelly tease. “I’m not entirely convinced you’ll handle yourself fine between my legs. A woman’s pleasure is quite difficult to master and to be honest…when I first met you, I didn’t think you liked women.”

He’s flustered and tripping over his words but you place a finger against his lips, soothingly hushing him.

“It’s alright, Ralphie,” You say before placing a quick kiss on his pouty lips. “I don’t mind a man that’s a little effeminate. I find it exhilarating when a man is in touch with his feminine side. That shows to me that you’ll be willing to learn. So…I suppose I’ll humour you.”

You slide off his lap, allowing him the chance to see the mess you’ve made of his khaki explorer shorts. A tortured groan escapes his parted kiss-swollen lips when he sees the slick trail you’d left on the crotch area. The thought of his painfully erect cock soon being coated in your creamy release nearly has him coming on the spot. He palms his hardened member, squeezing to keep its erratic jumping at bay.

“Will you please undress me, Ralphie?” You ask sweetly, lying back on your elbows against the soft moss.

“As you wish.” He says, reaching towards you with trembling hands.

You stare up at him, anticipating; fawn-like eyes carrying a hint of mischief in them. You drag your bottom lip between your teeth once he begins to unravel the bow around your waistline. His breathing picks up when the bow slips off and gently falls behind you. With his fingers hooked on either sides of your dress, he cautiously parts it.

Ralph’s breath hitches once your breasts come to view, perky nipples calling for his tongue to travel them. He separates the dress oh so slowly and calculated so that the thin fabric could caress your skin as if it were his lips tracing along it instead. You whine, head thrown back when a cool breeze passes by; a gently brush felt on your sensitive peaks.

Unable to contain himself, he leans forward above you to train his long and thick tongue from your tummy, between the valley of your breasts, to your perky nubs. He teases you with his talented mouth in earnest, moaning when your hands weave into his hair to keep him in place.

His teeth lightly nibble earning a surprise squeal and giggle from you. When his tongue glides back up your neck, you tug on his hair forcing him to capture your lips once more. The kiss is sloppy—again a result of his inexperience—but still you find yourself moaning into the kiss, curling your arms around his neck so he doesn’t part for air longer than you can wait.

You’re the one to break the kiss, standing on your feet and towering over him on his knees. Ralph gets the picture, eyes fluttering shut as he places wet kisses along your inner thighs and bask in your fingers weaving in his hair.

He pulls you closer by your legs, slotting your creamy pussy over his drooling tongue. You let out another gasp that morphs into a moan when the rough texture of his dry lips clamp around your clit, suckling lightly.

Sweet Ralph, so determined and devoted to you; his one goal is to satisfy your every desire. Your biting words and insults have only ever served as a form of encouragement for him. He’ll handle your mean behavior any day for as long as he gets to call you his or gets to have your sobbing cunt over his face again.

You lean against the nearest tree, mouth open and brows furrowed almost as if your pain. In a way, you are because this man knew how to take your fucking breath away and now you’re struggling to let out some relief of the cries bubbling within your throat.

Then, his eyes fly open at the same time his tongue thrusts into your tight core and speech finds you again.

“Fuuuck, Ralph! Please! Oh god,” You whimper, hand cupping the back of his head while the other lays against the tree behind you for support.

He hums moans and forces out groans from the back of his throat with your every plea, eyes staring intensely as you fall apart on his tongue.

He’s doing this to you with absolutely no coaching on your part?!

“Oh, darling,” He whispers against your flesh, making out with your puffy pussy between words. “Tell me this isn’t a dream. Please I must know.”

You answer his plea by tugging on his hair roughly. He lowly growls at this, pretty lips turned up an a lust-filled feral snarl before he dives back into you. He raises you completely off the ground now, using the tree as leverage as he drapes your legs over his shoulders.

“So fucking good,” You pant, hand moving away from the tree to glide down your body as if you could feel the pleasure traveling through it. Then, your eyes widen as the sensation settles at the pits of tummy. As it tightens, you begin to hyperventilate, riding his face. “Ralph, fu—ohmygodohmygodohmygod!”

With expert precision, he circles your clit with his tongue while his big brown eyes shine up at you like a lovesick puppy. Finally, he slips a finger into you and immediately the flood gates open, soaking his hands, the lower half of his face—practically everything in sight—with your wetness. Your eyes roll back, lids twitching as it shoots out of you like a geyser surprising the both of you as you squeal in delight.

Though, he doesn’t understand what he’d done he continues to lap away at whatever you gave him until you forcibly pull him away.

You tremble, shaky legs unable to remain rigid enough to rest on his shoulders. You find yourself weakly sliding down into his lap, folded in half, legs still raise in the air where your feet and anklet dangle beside his ears.

Ralph pulls you away from resting on the tree so he can kiss you once more, making you taste yourself in the process.

“I hope I gave you the pleasure you deserved, my love.” He says.

He hopes?! That man made you see God and he’s still unconvinced of his skills?!

You being teasingly mean as always, you respond in a way that one would call…’nonchalant’.

“It was satisfactory.” You reply, expecting him to throw a fit but instead he beams with pride.

Ralph was once told by his papa in a man to man conversation regarding women that, irregardless of a man’s size, as long as a man knew how to pleasure their women with their tongue then they shall remain happy. It’s a sentiment Ralph held dear, honing in on learning the art of cunnilingus through saucy literature reads he’d ‘stumble’ upon in his maid’s room.

And you would come to appreciate him for this as you will soon find out that he lacks in the key department you seek.

“I want you inside me. Please take me.” You beg, kissing his neck feverishly. Your eager hands tear open his explorer button down shirt, buttons scattering in between your bodies and onto the dirt. But your concerns lie with feeling his bare frame flushed against yours, ferverently canting your hips downward.

Ralph nervously searches his mind for an explanation or a way out of giving you his cock. When you made the offer to surrender yourself, he didn’t think that meant getting to fuck you. Hell, he didn’t even win your little game to expect such a blessing to begin with. And although he is grateful, he’d rather you be in love with him enough that seeing his tiny cock and unathletic frame wouldn’t resort to you fleeing from him again. He’s already got some work to do regarding your perception of him as is.

“Could I take you…from behind?” He loathes himself for being such a coward. The first time he gets to make love to you and he won’t even get to see your pretty faces.

“Is it to punish me for escape you, Ralphie?”

“No, darling!”

“I wouldn’t mind if it were my punishment,” You whisper, fingers looping around the waistband of his shorts. “I was rather cruel to you. I knew you’d lose. That there was a chance you’d never get me. I watched on close by—you, a sweltering fool—you were none the wiser.”

Your words to provoke had done enough.

“Turn around.” He growls and you rush to comply, climbing off his lap to eagerly get into position.

Meanwhile, he’s frantically removing articles of clothing; tossing his explorer vest, his now ruined dress shirt, his undershirt, then his hat, then focusing on loosening the ascot around his neck—fuck, it’s amazingly frustrating how many layers of clothing he wore.

Impatience takes over once you notice that his pants still clung to his waist with the support of a heavy duty belt. You turn over for a moment, fumbling with the zipper and buttons of his pants. You’d completely forgotten to unbuckle his belt, whimpering and whining when his pants didn’t seem to budge. Ralph finally assists you, guiding your hands to his belt’s buckle until his pants pool around his knees.

You take in his almost bare form. He’s pale, thin but surprisingly lean. If you wanted to, you could easily overpower him. How…exhilarating.

Ralph squirms under your gaze, feeling self-conscious. He never had any issue with himself but of course he just wants to be perfect for you.

He’s seconds from asking if you want to stop but your hands find the last barrier of clothing separating him from you. You gage his reaction, not once tearing your eyes from his face, while your hands lower his white briefs. His cock springs upward and you observe it in its glory. It’s two-toned schlong with the base being slightly darker than the tip. It’s curvy with a fat girth size though it’s smaller in the length department.

His cock is so goddamn pretty to look at, you have a hard time being mean and cheeky at his expense. All you want to do is worship it, suck his fat breeding balls into your mouth.

With one deliberate finger, you feather touch along his length, riding the smooth pattern of his veins and collecting his sticky essence.

He breathes unevenly, heart pounding as you rub precum over his lips like lipgloss. It should humiliate him but instead this makes his cock jump even more. You suck the slick essence off, starting with his upper lip then swirling your tongue to capture his lower lip.

It’s in the heat of this exchange that you realize even if he had the world’s smallest cock, you’d still fuck him stupid. You’ve dropped suitors for much less reasons yet here you are offering yourself on a silver platter to a man who’d been annoyingly infatuated with you.

Where you could’ve easily take advantage of his money and never return your affections, you latterly chose to be have his virgin ‘coke can’ cock penetrate you with no certainty you’ll even get off! Yet still it’s so fucking worth it.

You go on all fours. Your furry tail is still lodged tightly in your puckered hole, the length of it is draped between your legs.

With one hand off the ground, you hold onto the cosplay piece, allowing him a view of your glistening core from behind. He sees it contracting in a prominent visual that says if he were to stick himself in you, he’d have trouble pulling out ever again; a cushy vortex ready to suck in anything it latches onto.

Dear god, he’ll be lucky if he makes it past a minute…

“Give it to me, baby, please!” You plead him, rocking backward and forward.

“Yes, I’ll give you exactly what you need, darlin’,”He whispers, failing to sound as confident as he planned to fake. “J-Just a moment.”

He settles behind you, lining himself with your entrance while he tries focusing on not coming. The tip sinks in first. A stretch that has both your mouths falling open and eyes rolling back.

Inch by inch he feeds more of himself to you before finding an awkward and shallow rhythm to follow that leaves little to be desired.

The problem is… it feels good. Too good. But the feeling’s fleeting. Almost as if you’re imagining it. He’s so scared to stay in too deep; to allow your hungry pussy to entrap him for too long. He’ll cum immediately the longer he allows himself to stay buried, so he hits into you with quick thrusts that has him whining and gripping your waist while you burn hotter and hotter with an unquenchable heat.

“You feel absolutely wonderful, darling,” Ralph breathes, a timid sliding down your arching back. “The best feeling in the world.”

Pent-up frustration takes over once more as you begin to impatiently rock back against him, forcing him in deeper and keeping him in longer. You understood that the further you pull away, the more annoyed you’ll get with his cock slipping out of you. So again, you find yourself taking the reins from him as you hooked your legs over his to keep him locked in you. You press your face and the lower half of your body into the cold dirt before you’re crashing your hips harshly back against him.

“Ooo, fuuuuck. Your little cock is actually so fucking good when you’re not being stingy with it.” You tease, hardened nipples grazing the tiny abrasive rocks embedded in the soil.

He’s hopeless against your thrusts, his nails now digging into the soft flesh of your inner thighs as you force him to pound into you. The leverage with your legs lets you push and pull his body as you please, setting the pace. The force of the hammering thrusts causes the anal plug to knock against a sensitive point that falls in sync with his fat tip bullying your g-spot.

“Unh, oh my…g-god,” Ralph is on the verge of tears by this point, overwhelmed by the sensation. There is nothing on this earth comparable to a feeling like this. Not even the feeling of being high on the purest of cocaine. Slowly, he finds himself losing the words to better articulate his pleasure in you, babbling and whimpering nonsensical pleas. “Oh, sh-shit. Please…i’m can’t —mmm.”

You force yourself up on your hands again, looking back at him with a devilish smirk and siren eyes as you continue to puppet him; forcing him to wreck your walls over and over.

“You’re so pretty,” You whisper before sinking your teeth into his inner arm that rested beside your head. “I kinda regret not riding you. Would have loved watching every little stupid face you make…but this’ll do.”

The thrusts become more erratic as Ralph shouts the approach of his impending release. You almost would have considered him a shameless virgin until you felt a scarily ascending feeling stirring in the pit of your belly. The less you allow Ralph to withdraw from you, the more it grew until he’s not pulling out at all; only rocking into you.

“Talk me through it, baby. Wanna hear your pretty voice whilst I take this pretty cock.”

“It’s so good, love,” He sobs, hands grabbing your shoulders to force you onto his cock. He feels delirious. Like a wild animal taking over. Maybe it’s the fact that the two of you are alone in the forest with only the distance sounds of the jungle that’s making him become a feral beast but he soon cracks under the same frustrations you found yourself in; desperate to be closer until he’s falling onto your proned body. His thrusts continue to grind you into the dirt, your swollen clit tickled by the soft greenery beaneath you until you’re surprised by your mutual orgasms. Your pussy contracts and gushes around him, creaming his wild pubes and thick base. “That’s right take my cock. Let me mold myself to fit inside you forever.”

“God, yes. Please mold me, Ralphie. My pussy’s made for you. Now give me all your come. Please, pretty please…I’ll be so good. Just breed me.” You mewl, tears escaping your eyes at the power of your orgasm.

He shoots his hot cum into you, pulling you back by your hair and turning your face so he can properly french kiss you.

You bite his bottom lip holding him there until he spurts the last of his semen into you

He laid on top of you, not yet pulling out even after he’d finished. The two of you continue making out for a few minutes before he reluctantly pulls out of you. The two of you groan at the sudden loss of each other but he doesn’t part from you for long, lying on his back beside you before pull you into his perspired chest.

“That was…beyond human comprehension.” Ralph chuckles.

“You said it,” You say, panting softly against him. “I really do love you, Ralph Penbury. I hope you know this is true.”

“I do know this, love,” He whispers, placing a chaste kiss on your sweaty temple. “But I’ll gladly chase you into the darkest, grimiest parts of the jungle for you. I love you, too.”

The two of you rest together in perfect harmony, staring up at the sky when a startled Lauren stumbles upon your entangled naked frames, screaming and covering her eyes.

“We’re all over by the lake roasting hotdogs while you two play ‘hide the wiener’?!” She tosses her jacket onto the ground then blindly reaches for a nearby tree to guide her back to the site. “Hurry up and dress or I’m sending your coke-frenzied party attendees right this way to see this ungodly spectacle.”

And then, you and Ralph await for her to be a good distance away before you both begin to laugh hysterically.

[rememberwren]

A Dichotomy of Thought || 3

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Further Parts

Johnny has a good day.

Tw: ableism; implied sexual assault

#

That night you dream about fucking the two neighbors in 5C.

It’s good sex, too. You can tell by the sweat slicking your skin and the ache in your thighs. You are naked on the big one’s lap, his huge hands on your hips while he bounces you on his cock. Behind you, the shorter one loops his one arm around your waist and grinds his cock against your bare arse. 

“Did Jesus send ye?” his voice rasps against the sensitive side of your neck. You tilt your head to give him more room to suck and kiss and bite. Then, as his hand slips down to tease where you need a soft touch the most: “Are you gonna finish me off?” 

The one beneath you cums, a flood of warmth deep within your aching cunt. His groans have you teetering on the edge of your cut of the pleasure. You lean down to kiss him, but before your mouths can meet, hands grip your hips and lift you free—his cock slides out with a wet rush of fluids, leaving you feeling cracked open and empty.  

Your boyfriend passes you on to his friends who are waiting for their turn with you, and then it is no longer a dream, but a memory. 

#

Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are for physical therapy. Tuesdays and Thursdays are for cognitive rehabilitation. Both of these are paid for by the British government and accomplished in the ‘comfort’ of Johnny’s own home. Like that’s supposed to help; he’s going to have to sweat (literally) and bleed (probably figuratively), but as long as it’s on his own carpet, that’s quite all right. Johnny isn’t sure which he hates more, the physical or cognitive rehab. Both hurt, just in different places; one hurts the stump of his arm, the muscles of his shoulders and neck, his fake knee. The other hurts his pride, leaves him tired and second guessing his broken mind. 

The other scares him. It’s one thing to lose his arm—one terrible, traumatizing thing. But the idea that he’s going (or gone) simple is too much to take.

The cognitive rehabilitation therapist’s name is Anna. She wears horn-rimmed glasses and sloppy buns that Johnny fantasizes about gripping in his fist and throttling her with during their less productive sessions. 

By sessions, he means they play games together. Simon sits on the sofa in the living room pretending not to watch. He thinks he’s so fucking clever, turning his pages even, but Johnny knows. Simon’s gaze is a tangible thing, as physical as a touch, like a finger running up the back of his neck. There’s no hiding from it. You don’t get a name like Ghost without raising the hairs on some people’s arms with just your eyes. 

“It’s your turn, Johnny.” 

“I fuckin’ know it. Sorry—sorry.” 

Anna puts up a hand to stall his sorries. She is younger than he is; shouldn’t she be older? Wouldn’t that make this less painful? “Take your time.” 

It’s a simple matching game. There are less than a dozen tiles left on the board, and Johnny has seen most of them two or three times by now. He keeps forgetting their placements, even though he is burdened with the memory of having chosen them. 

His shaking fingers reach for a tile…a red car. Sweat breaks out on his brow. He’s seen this fucking Red Car no less than six times. His fingers hover over the board, moving from one tile to the next. Here? Or here? If he sees the Rose again, he’ll lose his head; he knows it. He can feel his blood pressure rising like the mercury in a thermometer, up up and away, blackness eating at the edge of his vision.  

Finally, with absolutely no idea where the other red car is, he picks a tile at random. 

Red Car. 

Johnny shouts out in triumph, holding up the tile for Simon to see. Even Anna—eternally unimpressed Anna—gives him a smile, infected by his joy. 

“Good job—now do it again.” 

Groaning, he picks up another tile. 

Rose. 

#

“Come lay down with me,” he says to Ghost after taking two of the green, oval pills that are the only things which take the edge off his pain. They make him so fucking tired, though—perhaps that’s their secret; if they can’t take the pain away, they’ll at least help him sleep through it. 

“Alright,” says Simon, putting his book down. He doesn’t bother marking his place; they both know he wasn’t reading it.  

The two of them slip into the bedroom. It isn’t much: a bed against the southern wall, the doors leading out onto the balcony—blinds pulled shut to keep out any hopeful rays of sunshine, a desk piled high with medical bills that the government will front. 

Johnny is pretty good about getting his shirt off with just one arm. He reaches up and back, gripping the collar, and tugs it off over his head in a smooth, fluid motion. He’s thinner after his three-month stint first in the hospital and then in inpatient rehabilitation, but he still looks good. 

He hates the stump where his arm used to be, but today he doesn’t even care. It’s a good day, a purely tolerable day. He presses himself against Simon and kisses him, the first true-kiss he can remember giving him since the accident, though his memory is not what it used to be. Simon’s hands—large and warm and strong—settle on his waist pulling him closer. It’s desperate and messy, too much teeth and tongue, neither of them quite settling into the old easy dance they used to be capable of; likely because they aren’t the same people anymore. 

“Fuck, I want you,” Johnny pants against Simon’s feral mouth.

“You can’t,” Simon grits out, dragging Johnny’s hardened cock against his own. 

“Like hell I can’t!” Though…already his knee throbs, a deep ache punctuated by glass-like shards of sharpness when he bends it. He could take it—but it would hurt. But fuck, what doesn’t hurt these days? “I need you, Ghost.” 

Simon grips him by the hair which has grown out too long and badly needs trimmed. He tugs back til Johnny’s neck pops uncomfortably. “You’ll take what I give you,” Simon says, sounding on the verge of madness, at least as desperate as Johnny feels. 

“‘n what? I can’t beg for more?” 

“Oh, you can beg,” says Simon darkly. 

He pins Johnny against the sliding doors of the balcony, rustling the blinds around his body. Knees bent to bring them to just the right height, he fists both their cocks in one large hand, his face buried in Johnny’s neck, muffling groans against his skin.

“Yes,” Johnny gasps, his nails digging into Simon’s back. “Yes, jus’ like that—fuck! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t—“

Simon keeps jerking off his spent cock well after Johnny cums, even after he begins whining and pulling back, shoulders thudding against the glass doors behind him. Ghost makes Johnny fuck his fist through the sensitivity until he cums too, both their seed slickening his hand and turning the sound of his handjob filthy-wet. 

“Thank you,” Johnny sighs, blissed out. He doesn’t feel any pain, not in his stump or his knee or his head or anywhere. Maybe it’s the pills, but maybe it’s Ghost. Maybe it’s the relief of knowing they haven’t fucked up their relationship beyond all repair, that they’re still capable of loving one another like this. “I needed that. 

Simon feeds two fingers soaked in cum past Johnny’s full lips, relishing the way his hot mouth sucks the digits clean. He admits: “So did I.” 

He cleans them both up and they curl up on the bed together for Johnny’s afternoon nap—the doctors say all the sleep he needs is good for his brain. 

Simon doesn’t intend to fall asleep. But he does. 

And when he wakes, Johnny is not there beside him. 

#

You’re just thinking how cold it is out on the balcony, wondering if it is worth it to risk going back inside for a sweater, when the balcony doors from 5C open and out steps the man you almost hit with your car. He looks likely to be cold as well, wearing only a t-shirt and loose pants, his feet bare against the concrete. 

A cigarette is tucked in the corner of his mouth, unlit. He gapes at you, and it falls to the balcony floor. Glancing behind himself into the darkness of his apartment, he shuts the door with careful tenderness before bending down with a wince to pick up his cigarette. 

 The sleeve of his missing arm dangles innocuously. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone out here.” 

“Sorry,” you say on instinct. It’s ingrained in you; a lifetime’s worth of apologies. “I can go in and give you some privacy.” 

“World’s big enough for two,” Johnny says coolly. There are chairs out here, but he doesn’t sit. Instead he leans against the doors with his good side and pretends to look out. It’s a lovely view of the parking lot. You do the same, except you can see the spot from here where you almost hit him with your car, and it makes your stomach turn. Speaking of: “Sorry about all that in the parking lot. My temper got the best o’ me.” 

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” you admit. “I was distracted. I can’t say it enough, I’m so—so sorry.” 

“Water under the bridge,” he says. He holds out the only hand he has left. “Johnny MacTavish.” 

You hold out your own left hand, shaking via air from the distance between your balconies. When you give him your name, he mutters it under his breath two, three, four times. 

“I’m going to forget that,” he warns you at length with a sad little laugh, fiddling with the unlit cigarette still in his hand. “It’s not you, it’s me.” 

“It’s alright,” you forgive. “It’s pretty forgettable.” 

Johnny frowns, putting the cigarette back in his mouth and working his hand into his pocket. His accent is so sweet to listen to, syrupy and dropping the consonants off of his words as he assures you: “Didn’t say that, did I, lass? Don’t get twisted.” 

Mollified and embarrassed in equal measure at his simple admonishment, you duck your head. 

“Got a broken brain,” he says in explanation, reaching up to tap the cigarette against the scars at his temple. “Forgot one of my own sisters’ names on the phone last week and she wept like a bairn. In my defense, I have several of them.” 

“I forget people’s names and I don’t have a head injury,” you say. 

Johnny snorts softly, the sound carried away by the wind.

He withdraws a lighter, one of the cheap disposable ones you can buy beside the registers at gas stations. His hand shakes as he tries to spin the sparkwheel once, twice, thrice, but no dice. Johnny takes a deep, slow breath, like a little boy trying not to lose his temper. He tries again, the familiar noise of steel rasping on steel, but no spark. 

You wait, patiently, eyes turned out toward the parking lot as he begins muttering curses beneath his breath. Anxiety itches beneath your skin. His building anger is a tangible thing in the air like heat thrown off by a lit flame or the smell of burnt rubber, tires squealing in the parking lot as you slam on the breaks. A man’s anger is familiar to you. It predicts pain. Your skin flashes hot and then cold, and you are just about to make a polite escape inside when: 

“Can you catch?” he asks, sending your gaze swerving to him from the parking lot.

“Can I—? Fuck!” you throw your hands up just in time, scrambling for the lighter even though he only tosses it underhanded like an easy pitch for a tee-baller. It slips from one of your sweaty hands to the other like a slapstick comedy routine, but it doesn’t clatter to the concrete nor does it fall off the balcony altogether. Holding it in your hand, you light it easily to make sure it works, missing the hungry, bitter expression that comes over his face when you do. “How? I can’t reach you from here.” 

“We can meet in the middle.” 

You can’t. Even with him outstretching from his side of the balcony and you from your own, there is a good half a meter of distance between you both. You can’t help but remember the other man’s words—I just want one fucking cigarette without worrying about him taking a swan dive off the balcony. 

“Be careful,” you admonish when Johnny slips a little, his ribs digging into the iron-wrought railing. He doesn’t have good balance, you realize. Does losing an arm fuck something like that up? The answer you don’t know: it fucks up everything. Taking a deep breath, you glance over the rail and take note of how high you are from the ground. High enough for a healthy splat should you fall…

“Forget it,” he says morosely, his brows low. He is the picture of dejection, a kicked dog. “Doctors say ‘m not supposed to smoke anymore anyway.” 

“Don’t they say that to everyone? Just—hang on.” Tucking the lighter into your pocket, you throw one leg over the railing. 

“What are yeh—you-uuu fucking nutter,” he laughs as you test the stability of the railing. It doesn’t shift or creak at all under your weight. Heart in your throat, you lift your other leg over, feet lodged in the narrow space between the railing and the concrete floor. Gripping the rail with a tight fist, you let your weight lean into the space between your balconies, reaching into your pocket to remove the lighter and flick it to life. 

Johnny looks like he could laugh or cry or both, stretching out his shaking arm so you can light the cigarette and then quickly bringing it to his mouth to suck it to life. 

“Yer crazy,” he says breathlessly, words tinted with smoke as he watches you scramble back over the railing and to safety. 

The sliding doors open. For a moment, you mistake the sound for being closer than it is—for being your boyfriend finally noticing how long you’ve been gone and coming to find you. He’s going to find you out here with Johnny and the same arguments will be born all over again—arguments about your disloyalty.

But it’s Johnny’s doors which slide open. The taller man comes out, the circles under his eyes standing out darkly  against his pale skin in the late afternoon light. At the sight of Johnny, an expression of raw, poignant relief comes over his face. 

Johnny drops the cigarette over the ledge of the balcony, face sheepish. 

“Was just meeting our bonnie neighbor,” says Johnny, slipping his arm around the other man’s waist. If there was any doubt left of what they were to each other, it disappears: seeing them together, you can see the magnetism that draws them together. They act like plants which turn toward the sunlight, except they are the sunlight. The bitterness inside you rises up in the back of your throat. “Grateful to be doing it without a car in between us. This is Simon.” 

“Nice to meet you,” says Simon. 

“You too,” you offer, like perfect strangers. 

You don’t find the lighter still in the pocket of your pants until later, when it is past midnight as you are collecting your clothes from the floor, aching between your legs and raw-eyed from crying. You flick the sparkwheel, watching the flame come alive. Glancing behind you, you make sure your boyfriend is fast asleep before creeping to your dresser drawers, opening the one with your socks, and shoving the lighter towards the back as far as you can. 

[thoughtportal]

Grinding tree stumps is usually how we deal with them. If you have land to clear on your homestead, it could become quite a chore to get these stumps taken care of. But did you know that you can eat your stumps?

Well, that is not exactly true. If you head out there and start chewing on tree stumps, they won't taste very good. And there is no method of slow cooking that will make that poplar edible or appetizing.

However, one way you can both eat your stumps and hasten their decomposition is to inoculate them with a mushroom spore. I understand that is a mouthful of words that don’t really mean much to the average person.

What I'm saying is, you can buy wooden dowels that are covered with the spores of certain types of mushrooms.

These dowels can be easily inserted into your stumps and they will begin feasting on the wood. The best part is that you will get delicious mushrooms several times a year. These spores are prolific and will produce enough mushrooms that you will need to dry them.

If you do this to a field of stumps, you better get your e-commerce ready or set a booth up at the local farmers market.

Shiitake Mushrooms retail for between 8$ and $15.

I prefer the Shiitake because it looks very distinct and I love the taste as well. They also preserve well.

Mushroom Nutrition

The Shiitake mushroom is a delicious little cap. It's full of great nutrients like copper and selenium. It's also a decent source of Vitamin B2 and B6. It contains lipids and amino acids as well.

Shiitake have played a role in Chinese medicine for millennia. There are also studies on their ability to fight tumors. For the most part, though, they are just delicious and grow with little to no effort. You can eat them, dry them, or sell them.

Tools and Supplies

Drill and Drill bit of 5/16th inch bit

Hammer

Wax

Vessel for melting wax

Small Paintbrush

Shiitake Spawn (store in fridge until ready for use)

The Process

7. That’s it! It’s not a tough process. If you can melt some wax and use a drill, you can have all the mushrooms you want.

How to Activate the Spore

It takes about 6-12 months for the spore to initially spread through your stump. So, it will take at least a year before you get any production.

Your stumps will produce in spring and in fall. You may get some sparse production in summer, but the bulk of production happens in spring and fall. The spore will need to be distributed through the stump each season and activated.

The best way to do this is to first soak your stumps thoroughly. When I do this with logs, I toss them into a small creek on my property overnight. You can water the stumps a few times a day for about 5 minutes. Just get them nice and soaked.

Next, you will want to bang the stumps. You can use a bat to hit the stump. Don’t really crack the thing and damage the stump, but give it a couple whacks on all sides. This will kickstart production.

Other Tips

After 6 months, keep an eye on the logs or you may miss the first production.

Stumps in the shade will produce best.

Too much direct sun will dry out the stump and they will not produce.

Harvest them when the cap is between 3-4 inches.

To dry, put them in a 200-degree oven until the caps are shrunken and hard.

Of course, the other payoff is that these mushrooms will hasten the decomposition of that problem stump. It won’t work as quickly as a stump grinder, but you will get years of delicious mushrooms out of it!