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guess-my-next-obsession · 8 months ago

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Guilty as Sin? - Chapter Four

pairing: professor!javier peña x f!reader

rating: series is 18+ only, minors DNI, fem masturbation, things get very flirty for a second, reader deals with the aftermath of chapter three, brief mentions of SA (from chapter three), the story's getting good babies!!!

word count: 4.1k

series masterlist

“Make yourself comfortable,” Javier said, leading you into his office—not the one attached to the lecture hall that you’d been used to visiting this week, but his real office. The walls were a shade of walnut with crown molding around the ceiling, bringing a very sophisticated and gentlemanly feel to the space. In front of his large wooden desk were two leather armchairs that matched the same tan leather of the large sofa pressed against the wall closest to the door. Along two walls stood ceiling-high bookcases that were so crammed with texts that they’d begun to stack up.

“Fancy,” you noted, a smile tugging at your lips as you watched him unpack the contents of his leather messenger bag onto his desk; his laptop, then a portfolio, before finally pulling out his phone. A strange pang of jealousy laced with curiosity hit you. What secrets did that small rectangle hold? How many lovers did he have on speed dial? How many memories of his past were hidden away in his camera roll? You longed you know him half as well as that tiny device did.

“Yeah, it’s not too bad,” he smiled, sitting down in the large swivel chair at his desk with a humph.

“You, uh, you’re sure no one will snoop on us?” you asked, dragging your fingertip along the spines of the books as you studied them.

“Not at this hour,” he said, clearing his throat. “Although maybe it’s best if we weren’t completely alone.”

“I trust myself not to do something stupid.” You shrugged, shooting him a playful, almost taunting look from over your shoulder. “Do you?”

Javier bit lip, shaking his head at you before letting it hang, a breath of amusement escaping him. “I suppose we’ll see.”

You decided to leave it at that, not quite ready to test those waters given the events of the night. But one day—maybe tomorrow, maybe ten years from now—you’d like to see just how stupid he could be over you. “Guess I’ll just leave you to it, then.”

You could feel him watch you as you made your way to the couch, your skirt riding up as you sat down on the plush leather. You caught him staring as you tugged at the hem, but Javier quickly turned his eyes back to his screen the second you met his stare.

“There’s a blanket and pillows in the closet over there,” he said, clearing his throat for the millionth time tonight.

“Thanks,” you muttered, standing to walk over to the coat closet near the door. Unfortunately, the blanket and pillows were on the highest shelf, and even with your heels on you’d have to stretch to reach it. Given the fact that your ass was already threatening to make its debut, you decided to enlist the help of the man who put it that high in the first place. “Would you mind?”

“Oh,” he blurted, once again being caught staring. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“You’re fine,” you breathed out, your heart beating out of your chest as he strides towards you, his eyes locked on yours. Once he was close enough to warm you with his body heat and that whiskey-warm cologne of his, you stopped breathing altogether. Keeping his eyes locked on you as you stood beside him, he watched you watching him, watched the way you all but panted at the sight of his arms flexing, watched the want in you skyrocket into dangerous territory.

“Here,” he husked, his voice suddenly rough and heady as he held the basket out towards you.

Your eyes carefully trailed up his strong hands to his forearms, his chest to his neck, his lips to his eyes.

“Just gonna keep me waiting?” he teased, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. No, there was no amusement to be found in those rain-soaked soil brown eyes, only a challenge.

But if he truly believed you’d be the first to act on whatever tension this was, he was sorely mistaken.

Grabbing the basket, you offered him a cordial smile. Teasing. Taunting. “Thanks, Professor.”

Javier nearly groaned at the title but caught himself, although the reigned in sound of pain still registered for you, bringing a proud smirk to your face as you turned to walk back to the couch.

Javier seemed to gather his wits, quickly turning back to his desk with a grind of his jaw.

“So what did you do before this?” You gestured at his desk, at the papers he was grading.

“Couple things,” he said, a sigh slipping from his lips as he sat down.

“Secretive,” you teased, biting your lip as you made yourself comfy across the couch. “Did you practice before you became a professor?”

“No,” he said, reclining in his chair as his eyes lifted to meet yours. “You’re not gonna stop asking until I tell you, are you?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

He laughed, soft and honey sweet. “Out of high school I worked at the Sheriff’s Department in Laredo.”

“That’s where you’re from?”

“Mmhm,” he nodded. “Got my bachelors in criminal justice while I was there, then I went for my PhD.”

“Then you came here?”

“No,” he replied, stroking his mustache in consideration. “I, uh, wanted to do more. Make a change and all that. So, at twenty-eight I decided to join the DEA. Did four years with them, then decided I’d seen enough death for a lifetime and came home. Helped my dad with the ranch for a year while I figured my shit out. Then I found myself here, telling nosy TA’s about my life.”

You smiled at his playful jab. “Was that plural? Should I be jealous?”

He laughed again, sighing as dramatically as he could. “You’ve gotta stop.”

“Sorry,” you said, not feeling sorry at all. In fact, it felt empowering knowing that you could have such an effect on a distinguished, intelligent, decent man like Javier.

The room fell silent for a few minutes, Javier’s typing and occasional sigh the only sounds to be heard. You stared up at the ceiling, tracing the lines of the wooden ceiling squares while trying to find any reason not to walk right over to his desk and present yourself as a midnight snack.

Of course, there were reasons. Good reasons, if you were being honest with yourself. Beyond the fact that Javier was your professor and that a relationship between the two of you, if discovered, would certainly end in an expulsion from the Law program, you weren’t sure who he was beyond the intoxicating persona he’s chosen to show you.

Was he just as bad as the rest of the men your age? Had he learned from his past and became a better man? A better partner?

Judging by the fact that you were, as he claimed, the first student he’d ever been interested in, you could at least say that he was a man who understood boundaries. But was that all it took? Had the bar truly gotten so low that all you asked for was a man who knew when to back off?

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you blurted, causing the typing sound filling the room to cease, a tense, pregnant silence taking its place. You turned your head to look at him, finding him already watching you with a quizzical look in his face. “Just…curious, I mean.”

“No,” he said your name, “I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

“Mm,” you hummed, turning back to the ceiling. “You a cheater or something? Workaholic, maybe?”

He chuckled. “Not a cheater, but maybe the second thing has a little to do with it.”

“So you don’t...sleep with—“

“Dangerous territory,” he warned, tutting his tongue.

“How am I supposed to decide whether or not I want to fuck you if I don’t know anything about you?” you asked, giving him a playful smile. Javier didn’t look amused. In fact, he looked near the end of his patience.

This made his next few words all the more shocking. “Guess you’ll have to figure that out on your own. Now, will you please sleep so I can focus on my work? You’re distracting enough without all your questions.”

“You’re really not going to do anything with me, are you?” you asked, turning so that your back was facing him. It was bad enough you felt the need to be so honest with him about your feelings, you didn’t need to look at him while you did it.

“Go to sleep,” he muttered, soft and full of care. “I’ll wake you up before the sun rises.”

Javier stayed true to his word, both the wake up call and his not touching you. At five in the morning, you let him escort you out of the administration building, both of you careful to keep an eye out for any potential witnesses to the very mild crime of having spent an eventless night together in his office.

“What’re you gonna do about the whole roommate situation?” he asked, covering up a yawn. Poor guy likely hadn’t slept all night, but thankfully it was the weekend. Plenty of time for him to rest and do whatever it was that he did with his free time. You just hoped those plans didn’t include some beautiful woman in his sheets.

“Don’t know,” you shrugged, tugging the blanket he allowed you to keep tighter around your shoulders as he walked you to his car. “Might try and get a place to myself. It’s about time. Lived with them for four years now.”

“Mm,” he nodded, opening the passenger door for you. You slid into the seat carefully, not wanting to flash him. Javier leaned against the open door, his tired eyes looking oh so boyish. “And for today?”

“Just gonna try and make it through,” you managed, feeling a lump form in your throat at the thought of running into Derrick. Or Alondra. Or even Nina, really. He studied you for a minute, so long that you wondered if perhaps he’d fallen asleep with his eyes open.

“You remember asking me if I trusted myself not to do something stupid?” You nodded. “How would you feel about spending the weekend in my guest room while you figure out a place to stay?”

Your lips parted, eyes bouncing between his own to find any sign that this was some cruel joke. But he was serious. That expectant look in his eyes the proof.

“You don’t have to, of course,” he added, looking down at his shoes. “But I could help you find a place. I have a friend who runs a complex near campus, she could get you set up before Monday if I sweet talk her enough.”

Great. Female friend of his in need of sweet talking. Just what you wanted to hear.

“I’ll be fine,” you insisted, jealousy turning you cold as you turned away from him.

“I didn’t mean—“

“It’s fine,” you snapped, shedding the blanket around your shoulders and tossing it in the backseat. “You can keep your blanket too.”

“Did I say something?”

“No,” you said. “Just…I’d like to go home.”

Javier took a beat to move, that time likely spent trying to figure out how your mood had shifted so quickly. He seemed to come up short as he gave in, shutting your door softly before making his way into the driver’s seat.

He didn’t speak the entire drive and neither did you. Instead, the soft lull of classical music played on the radio, cushioning the tension a bit. When he pulled into your complex, he finally dared a glance.

“What did I say?” he asked, a pleading tone to his voice. “Did I…make you uncomfortable? I didn’t mean to assume or overstep—“

“This female friend of yours sounds great,” you chided, giving him a forced smile as you opened the passenger door. “Maybe you should spend your time worrying about her.”

You didn’t give him time to respond as you made your exit, almost slamming the car door on your way out. You hurried into the building you’d called home for so long, suddenly feeling like a stranger there.

The feeling only worsened as you reached your floor, the sound of music and laughter filtering out from beneath the front door of your apartment. You weren’t sure what hurt more, losing this place and these people or knowing that they hadn’t even noticed you were gone.

But none of that mattered right now. You had to go inside, had to shower off the night, had to prepare yourself for a long weekend of apartment hunting and packing. You couldn’t cling to the good memories anymore, at least not the ones involving Derrick. And if Nina and Alondra decided they believed his story and not yours, well, then you’d have to find a way to forget them too.

You unlocked the door with a deep breath, kicking off your heels by the shoe rack as you tiptoed into the apartment. Nina and Alondra were having what looked like a dance party in the living room, but stopped dead in their tracks when they noticed your presence. Quickly, though, they looked over your shoulder into the kitchen. Derrick.

“Hey,” Nina started, her tone careful as she turned down the music. “We were worried about you.”

“Yeah, looks like it,” you said, forcing your tears to wait until you were alone to spill over.

“Hey, can we, uh, talk?” Derrick asked, his footsteps coming closer to where you stood. You tensed at his presence, his cologne only reminding you of last night. He dared to try and put his hand on your shoulder, causing you to step away from him with a glare. “C’mon,” Alondra pleaded, “he’s trying to apologize.”

“Apologize?” you snapped, turning your eyes to meet theirs. “Do you have any idea what he actually did, or are you guys happy believing his side of things?”

“It wasn’t like I fucking tried to do anything,” Derrick snapped, pacing the room like he had any right.

“Didn’t you?” You chuckled darkly. “Fuck you, Derrick.”

“He was drunk,” Alondra interjected.

“Being drunk doesn’t negate the fact that if he had it his way, he’d have done a lot more than grope me last night,” you said, eyes now brimming with tears. “But you guys don’t give a shit. Not when he pays for all the spring break trips and covers your ass when you can’t make rent. Not when he has connections you guys want. No, you’d rather side with a fucking creep than me because the only thing I have to offer you is friendship. So both of you can kindly fuck off as well.”

They called your name but you refused to turn around as you made your way into your room, locking the door once you were inside. Crumbling to the floor, you allowed yourself fifteen minutes to cry before it was time to get your shit together. Fifteen minutes to mourn the last four years of your life.

Finding the first shitty studio apartment in your budget that had a short-term lease in case shit ended up hitting the fan—again—was relatively easy. Moving out proved to be an entirely different obstacle.

Having only one day to pack your shit up and leave was hard enough, but having Alondra and Nina constantly chiming in with how unnecessary they found the whole ordeal made it unbearable.

“It’s literally not this deep,” Alondra said, carrying a box of your clothes down to the moving truck you’d rented for the day—even when you insisted she didn’t. “Like I don’t get it. Were you just looking for a reason to dip, because you could’ve just said that.”

You said nothing because she didn’t deserve the energy it would’ve taken to tell her to shut the fuck up.

“We love you, hermanita.” Nina pouted as she waited by the moving truck. “We just don’t get it.”

“I know,” you muttered, breezing past her to load the last of your things into the truck. With the metal door shut and locked, there was nothing else keeping you around, no reason to endure this special kind of torture. “I guess I’ll see you guys around.”

Nina whined your name. Alondra rolled her eyes. You didn’t give a shit about either reaction, choosing instead to lift yourself into the cab of the moving truck without another word.

Besides, what did you have to say to these women who chose to side with a manipulator like Derrick?

The first night in your own place was spent unpacking and trying to catch up on assignments. All those movies fooled you by glamorizing independence with their takeout boxes and solo dance parties in pajamas. The reality looked a bit more harsh. There were no takeout boxes, just an empty fridge and a half-eaten bag of chips to sustain you. There was no cathartic sing along in a matching set, just a concerning amount of sobbing in old tattered sweats.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel a silver lining of hope in the dark cloud that was your loneliness.

You’d never have to share a bathroom again or complain about the loud music your roommates insisted on waking you up to every morning. You were free to sob and to wear the ugliest—and comfiest—clothes you owned. You were free to fill your kitchen with food you liked without having to worry about taking up too much space. But most importantly, you were free to finally use that vibrator you’d bought for yourself sometime during Freshman year that you’d never had the courage to test out with three other people around.

And what better way to distract yourself than by making yourself feel good?

Slipping into the bed that you had disassembled, moved, and then reassembled all in the same day, you tugged the pink rabbit eared toy from beneath your pillow and turned it on, its soft purr filling the room. You bit your lip, shimmying out of your sweats before making yourself comfortable against the pillows. Taking a deep breath, you held it against your bud, testing the sensation and allowing yourself to acclimate to it as your mind conjured up a fantasy to whisk you off into.

Of course, there was only one fantasy floating around upstairs these days.

That beautiful man and his beautiful eyes peering up at you from between your thighs. This time you were seated on his desk, his strong hands holding your thighs open as he kissed his way along your inner thigh, teasing and sinful. A soft moan slipped from your lips as you imagined him placing a feather soft kiss to your clit, a playful smirk growing on his lips at the way your body shook with desperation.

“Fuck,” you moaned, imagining his tongue flattening along your seam, his deep groan vibrating against you.

Your thighs shook from the image, your end creeping on you faster than it ever had before. You imagined yourself burying your hands in his hair, holding him against your cunt as he took his time relishing in both your taste and your pleasure. And when fantasy Javier moved to slip his fingers inside of you, you saw stars. Throwing your arm over your mouth to drown out the sound of your choked moan, you came to the thought of your professor sucking your sweetness off his fingers, his dark eyes locked on yours.

Monday signaled the start of a new week, one that meant deadlines and quizzes rather than the simple assignments that your professors dealt out during the first week back. You navigated through your day without the irritating presence of Derrick following you around, though the fear of running into him surely hadn’t left you alone as much as the man himself did. But it still shocked you how little life seemed to change, how unaffected you were by the loss of your “friends”.

You’d expected there to be some longing for Nina and Alondra, some yearning to make amends just to have them back, but there wasn’t any. In fact, you’d been the most productive you’d ever been without their constant distractions. In between Dr. Brown and Dr. Arman’s lectures, you managed to complete a few of their assignments and finally start prepping for the Bar Exam—something you’d been putting off thanks to Nina convincing you you had plenty of time.

All that was left in the day was facing Javier—no, Dr. Peña. That’s who he had to be from here on out.

Finding a spot near the back of the room, you hoped to blend in with the crowd. Nina and Derrick were seated a few rows ahead of you, both of them taking calculated glances at you as the room slowly filled, though you pretended not to notice.

Dr. Peña’s arrival caused everyone to quiet down as usual, though you couldn’t help but notice he lacked his usual confidence.

Perhaps he was exhausted after spending the weekend inside of his female friend.

“Afternoon,” he said, dejected and monotone. “Today you’ll all be working on—“

You watched as he scanned the front row with a look of concern before doing the same with each row. You shrank in your seat, hoping that the six-foot-something guy in front of you was tall enough to shield you from his view. When it appeared that you’d gone undetected, Dr. Peña clearing his throat before picking up where he left off, you allowed yourself to relax a bit.

“I’m feeling a bit under the weather so I’m going to have you all complete the guided notes to today's presentation on Homicide,” he said, taking his seat at his desk. “Once you’re finished, please bring your papers up to the front and then you may leave.”

Fuck.

You thought you were in the clear, but no. Now you had to walk up to him, look him in the eye, and pretend you hadn’t gotten off to him the night before.

You were quick to finish the assignment, though it took you up until the end of class to finally muster the courage to take your paper down to him. With only ten or fifteen people left in their seats, you decided it was now or never. You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder before braving the steps down to his level. He hadn’t looked up, not until you were standing in front his desk.

He spoke your name with a hint of shock, his tired eyes softening a bit as he looked up at you. “I didn’t see you earlier.”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, swallowing down your nerves as you held your paper out for him to take.

Except he didn’t.

“Are you alright?” he asked, keeping his voice hushed. “Did you…get everything sorted?”

“Yep,” you nodded, wagging the paper in front of him. “Will you take this so I can leave?”

“Would…would you mind coming to see me during my office hours?” he asked, finally taking the paper from you. “I’d just like to apologize.”

“You don’t have to.” You shrugged, giving him a forced, but polite, smile. “So if that’s all—“

“Office hours,” he repeated, this time with a bit more command than before. “Please.”

You considered him for a moment, but there was no chance of you turning him down. Not with those fucking forgive me puppy dog eyes. “I’ll think about it, Dr. Peña.”

He looked wounded by your formality, though what did he expect from you? He said nothing could happen between the two of you, and he was right.

He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by another student lining up behind you to turn in their paper. “I’ll see you at office hours.”

“Maybe,” you replied, forcing yourself into coldness as you breezed off and out of the hall.

There was one thing keeping you standing at this point, a pink, rabbit eared thing that carried the weight of your entire sanity. It beckoned you home—to your home. One you got all by yourself, one that offered you a safe place to break down if you needed it. And with the weekend you just had, boy did you need it.

#guilty as sin?#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #javier peña smut #javier pena smut #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #javi peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier peña fluff #javier pena x you #javier pena fluff #javier peña series

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beansidhebumbling · 14 days ago

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The Art of War

The study was empty when Eris entered it.

He was quite sure of it.

Or had been until he heard a startled gasp when he slammed his hand against his desk.

He turned suddenly, catching his emerald brocade waistcoat on the corner of the bureau. Yet another casualty of this disastrous ball if the ripping he heard was anything to go by. There the intruder sat, across the firelit room in his favourite armchair, a vision of stunned elegance in white muslin.

Under his burning gaze, emotions burst like fireworks across her sharp little face- nervousness, irritation, anger, hope -before disappearing beneath a veil of polite, practiced concern.

'My Lord, I apologise for the intrusion.'

She murmured, head tilted down, voice trembling just so. She was a poised model of simpering female softness, slippered feet peeping out beneath the hem of her ivory dress, gloved hands clinging to a book, probably poetry.

And yet.. she made no move to stand, no rush to leave what was no doubt a compromising situation for any young debutante. Indeed Eris had a suspicion that the violent bang of his arrival was of little surprise at all. Only fools believed women incapable of deception, when indeed in polite society their very existence depended on their mastery of it.

Unfortunately for this actress he had no intention of being trapped by yet another conniving mama and his extinguished patience was not present to temper his tongue.

'What a skilled artist you are, Miss. Your concern for me is as artificial as the rouge on your pretty lips, yet most convincing. A lesser man may have been fooled. May I suggest you leave here and find such a man before I lose what is left of my good will.'

He snarled, feeling his face redden with frustration as he spoke until his complexion surely matched his hair.

He expected a few tears or a dramatic exit once he spoke.

He'd inspired both before.

Instead the creature had leaned back in the chair and raised her face towards him, so he got to observe her thin eyebrows climb higher and higher in disbelief and her plump bottom lip thin in fury as he raved.

There followed a few moments of painful silence where the only sounds that could be heard were the distant ballroom music and his own heavy breathing.

Then she rose from her seat, her movements liquid and graceful, a dancer he guessed, the book still in hand. Advancing on him she began to speak, voice low and steady, her grey eyes like knives pointed at him,

'I am skilled artist, my Lord, though not as you insinuate. And it is a damning indictment on men that I believe I could find lesser than what exists before me.'

He winced at her condemnation, an expert with blades of all kinds clearly. His chest tightened strangely and his hand clutched at it but he received no mercy from the descending angel.

'I have heard many tales of you, Lord Vanserra, but none had quite readied me for that introduction.'

His heart was ready to burst from his chest. Maybe because it was wrapped, from her first word, in a bow of barbed wire, that glistened gold and extended across the rapidly disappearing space between himself and the vengeful beauty. The clarity of this realization was as striking as his regret at his own insult towards her.

She continued, blessed as he was with the sweet timbre of her voice, damned as he was with its contents,

'I entered your study for a chance to meet you, my charming soulmate. So as to allow the bond to click for you in private, so you would not have to suffer publicly, as I did.'

Gods damn him.

She was breathtaking clothed in rage. It may be the only solace he could take from her anger, as based on his actions she would feel little else for him henceforth.

She reached him, those dainty feet now so close to his fine leather boots, her perfume of orange and vanilla filling his nose. He was sure he appeared to be a madman, clenched over his desk in pain as his heart was reforged as hers. His pale hand reached for her but she artfully dodged him, skirts whirling as she dropped the book on his desk and leaned down so her lips were by his ear.

'My name is Nesta Archeron, my Lord. And I will go now and seek one of those lesser men that you speak of. Do come join me when you are less indisposed.'

Nesta, he tried the name out, finding it to be most delightful even as a searing jealousy at the thought of her with another man threatened to turn his stomach.

By the time he could choke out her name, she was by the door.

'Nesta. Please.'

Funny how words that came so easy to him mere minutes ago had vanished somewhere between his head and his heart.

'Nesta.'

She did not turn but he saw her posture tense slightly as she pulled open the door and disappeared back to the dance.

He was not sure how long it took him to recover. Only that when his vision finally cleared the moon was high in the sky and the crunching of carriages and laughter could be heard through the bay window.

Nesta.

She was his first thought, as she would be for the rest of his life.

How Lucien would laugh at him. Only Eris Vanserra could offend his mate so thoroughly before an introduction. When he tentatively probed at the bond, that gold ribbon he felt bound to his heart, it echoed into the darkness with no response.

She had shut him off.

No great surprise but disappointment bit at his gut like a viper.

Pressing his forehead against the cool mahogany he sighed in despair. He allowed himself a moment more to wallow in his own stupidity before standing and fixing his jacket, buttoning it so as to hide his torn waistcoat.

It would do no good to admit defeat at this early stage. Eris had been fighting for his place since the day he was born. If it were to be no different with his mate, he could rest assured that none were more practiced than he.

His eyes turned to the thin book she had left on the desk, the smell of oranges still clinging to it. He turned his first gift from her, for it was one in his mind at least, over to read the title.

The Art of War.

For the first time that night, a smile tugged at his mouth.

How apt.

And though sleep beckoned Eris relit the candles in the study for it was time to prepare for the fight of his life.

#Neris #nesta archeron #nesta x eris #eris vanserra #Eris is an idiot #I'm sick so it's more regency core stuff #Bridgerton eat your heart out #Acotar

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dummiebrat · 2 months ago

Text

𝗢𝗯𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘃𝘀. 𝗜𝗻𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗶𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲

Teacher! Mistress!Agatha Harkness x Student! Brat!Rio Vidal x Teacher! Daddy!Nathasha Romanoff x Student! Good girl!Wanda Maximoff

Word Count: 1,1 K

Summary: Agatha’s discipline and patience with her brat, Rio Vidal, contrasts sharply with Natasha’s devotion and nurturing approach toward Wanda Maximoff.

Notes: Power dynamics, brat taming, discipline, devotion, age difference. Rio and Wanda are in their 20s.

Author’s Notes: I really enjoy talking about the difference in dynamics, it becomes something interesting to explore. And although I'm more familiar with being a brat, I think the complete submission is very beautiful, although boring. Rio is a reflection of the author, and through these stories I am sharing a little of my experience with you. Plus, I have two remaining paths I'd like to take from this story here. Then I'll change, just a little bit.

𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗜. 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗜𝗜𝗜.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤThe room was bathed in the soft amber glow of late afternoon light filtering through tall, arched windows. Dust motes drifted lazily in the beams, creating a haze that gave the old university office a timeless quality. The walls were lined with bookshelves that held an eclectic mix of ancient tomes and modern literature, each meticulously organized, reflecting the dichotomy of the women who occupied this space. It was a room that spoke of secrets, power, and intellect, a place where the weight of history lingered in every corner.

At the large mahogany desk sat Agatha Harkness, her posture regal and composed, a study in control. Her dark hair was pulled into an elegant twist, not a strand out of place, her eyes a piercing blue that seemed to see straight through to the soul. Across from her, leaning back in a leather armchair with an air of relaxed authority, was Natasha Romanoff. Natasha was all sharp angles and poised grace, her lips curved in a subtle, knowing smile that rarely reached her eyes. Where Agatha was a force of restrained power, Natasha was pure, unbridled confidence, a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it.

Between them, the air was thick with unspoken tension, the kind that crackled like a live wire. They were colleagues, equals in many respects, but their methods — particularly when it came to their personal lives — could not have been more different.

At their feet, in stark contrast to the formality of their mistresses, sat Rio Vidal and Wanda Maximoff, two students caught in a web of power dynamics far beyond their academic studies. Rio, ever the brat, lounged carelessly on the floor, her dark hair falling into her eyes as she fiddled with the hem of her skirt. She was a spark of chaos in an otherwise orderly room, her expression one of playful defiance. Next to her, Wanda knelt with perfect posture, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes downcast in a display of obedience that bordered on reverence. There was an air of quiet contentment around her, the serene submission that came with being Natasha's "good girl."

The silence stretched, filled only by the ticking of an old grandfather clock in the corner. It was Natasha who broke the stillness, her voice a rich, smooth purr. — It seems your little mischief-maker is rubbing off on my Wanda. — she remarked, her gaze sliding to where the two submissives sat.

Agatha arched a brow, her lips curling into a faint, amused smile. — Is that so? I suppose it was only a matter of time before Rio’s... influence became contagious. — She looked down at Rio, her eyes narrowing slightly. — Though I wonder, does my little brat have something to say for herself?

Rio grinned, unfazed by the stern tone in Agatha’s voice. — What can I say? Life’s too short to be boring. — she quipped, tossing a wink in Wanda’s direction. Wanda, ever the dutiful submissive, stifled a giggle behind her hand, casting a quick, apologetic glance at Natasha.

Natasha’s smile was cool, almost predatory, as she observed the interaction. — Wanda. — she said softly, her voice a velvet command, — Do you think it’s amusing to follow in such rebellious footsteps?

Wanda’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink, her eyes wide as she quickly shook her head. — No, Daddy. I only — I just thought... — Her voice trailed off, the words faltering under the weight of Natasha’s steady gaze.

— You just thought you’d try being naughty, hmm? — Natasha continued, her tone deceptively gentle. — Tell me, how did that work out for you, darling?

Wanda’s eyes lowered, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. — Not very well. I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I promise.

Natasha’s hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from Wanda’s face with surprising tenderness. — That’s my good girl. — she murmured, the praise like a balm to the anxious submissive. — I prefer my pets obedient, not... spirited. — she added, casting a sidelong glance at Agatha.

Agatha let out a low, throaty chuckle, the sound rich and full of dark amusement. — To each their own, Natasha. — she said lightly. — There’s something... invigorating about taming a wild spirit. Isn’t that right, Rio?

Rio met Agatha’s gaze with a spark of challenge in her eyes. — Maybe you just enjoy the chase... Mistress. — she teased, earning a sharp look that sent a shiver down her spine. Agatha’s punishments were legendary, after all, and Rio had danced dangerously close to the line.

— Perhaps. — Agatha mused, tapping a finger thoughtfully against her chin. — But you know what happens when you cross that line, don’t you, my little troublemaker?

Rio’s grin faltered slightly, but she held her ground, biting her lip as if to hold back a retort. She thrived on pushing Agatha’s buttons, testing the limits, but there was a fine line between playful disobedience and outright defiance.

Natasha watched the exchange with a faint smile. — You have far more patience than I do, Agatha. — she remarked. — I find that obedience is best nurtured with a firm hand and clear expectations. Isn’t that right, Princess?

— Yes. — Wanda agreed softly, her eyes shining with adoration as she looked up at Natasha. — I want nothing more than to please you.

Agatha’s gaze softened just a fraction as she observed the dynamic between Natasha and Wanda. It was a different kind of power, a relationship built on unwavering devotion and trust. She respected it, even if it was not her style. — And yet. — Agatha countered smoothly, — there’s a unique satisfaction in turning defiance into devotion. A brat can be broken... or better yet, transformed.

— Is that a challenge? — Natasha’s eyes glittered with amusement, her competitive streak flaring. — Shall we see who can train the other’s pet first?

Agatha laughed, a deep, melodic sound. — As tempting as that is, I fear you’d be wasting your time. Rio is incorrigible, and I wouldn’t have her any other way. — She leaned back in her chair, eyes dancing with mirth as she watched Rio’s smug expression.

— Well. — Natasha said with a sigh of exaggerated patience, — I suppose some of us prefer the chaos. — She turned her attention back to Wanda, her hand resting possessively on the younger woman’s shoulder. — Fortunately, my Wanda knows the value of discipline.

Rio snorted, rolling her eyes. — You mean the value of being boring. — she muttered under her breath, earning a swift, reprimanding glance from Agatha.

— Watch your tongue, pet. — Agatha warned, her voice like silk wrapped around steel. — Or you’ll find yourself spending the evening in a much less comfortable position.

Rio’s bravado wavered, but only for a moment. — Sorry... — she conceded, her voice a whisper, but the mischievous glint in her eyes remained.

Natasha shook her head, her expression one of bemused disbelief. — You really do enjoy the headache, don’t you?

Agatha’s smile was slow, predatory. — What can I say? I like a challenge or bad girls.

The conversation ebbed and flowed, a dance of power and control, each woman holding firm in her own philosophy. And all the while, Rio and Wanda sat at their feet, two submissives bound by different rules, each yearning to please in their own way.

As the meeting drew to a close, Agatha stood, her movements fluid and commanding. — It’s time we returned to our respective quarters. I have some... behavioral corrections to attend to. — Her gaze flicked to Rio, who bit her lip in anticipation.

Natasha rose as well, pulling Wanda to her feet with a gentle but firm hand. — And I believe Wanda and I have some quality time planned. Don’t we, darling?

— Yes, Daddy. — Wanda replied, her voice soft and filled with devotion.

As they left the room, the contrast between the two dynamics was stark. Agatha’s sharp commands and Rio’s playful defiance were a world away from the quiet, adoring submission that Natasha nurtured in Wanda. But in the end, each found their own version of fulfillment, their own path through the intricate dance of dominance and submission.

And as the door closed behind them, the old office was once again left in silence, a sanctuary of shadows waiting for the next chapter in the story of power, control, and the delicate balance between chaos and order.

#agatha x rio #agathario #agatha all along #agatha harkness #rio vidal #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #wandanat #wanda x natasha

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eenslaved · 18 days ago

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Ray and Joshua's Girl

BDSM erotica. Fictional characters over 18. Strictly fictional fantasy.

When she hears footsteps on the stairs, she tenses, uncertain of who is approaching. The son, back for more, or the father this time?

They both take turns using her, in this unassuming house set far back at the end of a long driveway, distanced from any neighbors.

The lights are flipped on and she sees Joshua's face beaming at her.

"Well, hello there," Joshua coos at her. "Looks like Da's already been at you today."

She blushes. Her feet are tied above her head, her thighs splayed wide apart. Her pussy and ass are tilted up at him, and Joshua can see for himself the sticky leavings of his dad's cum coating her sex.

Joshua comes to stand over her. His eyes are greedy and avid as they roam her naked, bound body. She sucks in a breath as his hands mold over her breasts, freely feeling her up because she can't stop him.

She has to try again. "Please let me go, Joshua. It's...you've had your fun, OK? I-I won't tell anyone, I swear."

Joshua shakes his head at her. "You are home," he insists. "This is your home now. Da and I talked it over; we're keeping you. You're our girl now. You belong to us and we'll take such good care of you."

Her heart sank. "No, please. You-you can't do this. This is so...you could get in so much trouble when someone finds out..."

"No one's going to find out," Joshua soothed. "You're safe here. You need us. That motel wasn't a safe place and you won't last the winter living on the streets. Here, you've got a bed, food, water, a roof over your head. All we want is your obedience."

Her eyes well with tears as he hurts her nipples, pinching them cruelly.

Joshua unties her wrists first, putting the manacles on her, and then releases her legs. He leads her into the bathroom where her arms are pulled up over her head.

He takes his time washing her body, soaping up every part of her, slapping at her thighs to get her to widen her stance. He strokes her until she's slippery and gasping, legs trembling, and then hoses her off. The jet of water aimed at her clit makes her dance in a performance he clearly enjoys.

After she's clean and dry, Joshua dresses her in a pink babydoll nightgown. She's so grateful to be clean and released from her uncomfortable bondage that when he pushes his sweats down and he slaps her face lightly with his cock, she just kneels there with her mouth open.

Joshua's father, Ray, arrives just as she's swallowing thick jets of cum.

"Good, you washed her," Ray says, pleased. He takes a seat in the broken-in leather armchair and watches as she cleans Joshua's cock with her tongue. "Come here, girl. Sit on your Daddy's lap now."

Her face burns and her insides churn with humiliation as she does as he asks, perching gingerly on his hard thigh. Ray settles her more firmly into the position he prefers, which is where her feet don't touch the ground and she has to cling to him for balance.

Ray's hands immediately disappear under the short hem of the babydoll gown, blunt fingers seeking out her wet heat. He isn't disappointed by what he finds there. She squirms as his fingers tease more wetness out of her.

"Put your arms around me," Ray encourages.

He turns his face into her cleavage, nuzzling her boobs. She gulps and tries not to come. All she can do is obey. She doesn't dare do different. Ray doesn't hesitate to punish her for any signs of disobedience or the merest hint of rebellion. He is consistent about his methods of discipline: first corporal punishment, then a stint of solitary in the hated deprivation hood.

His methods are effective.

As much as she's been able to pick up, Ray is divorced and has been for years. Joshua isn't in contact with his mom at all. It's just the two of them living here, operating the family-owned garage. The two men are self-sufficient. They haven't expected her to cook or clean or anything like that. That's not what they need her for.

"I'm plannin' on having anal sex with her later," Joshua says.

"Rub some icy hot on her clit before you do that," Ray says, enjoying the shudder that runs through her frame. "Makes it even better."

"Is that why she was carrying on so much last night?"

"Yep. It's good to let her work her lungs out. And now she knows there ain't anyone around to hear her and come banging on our door. Isn't that right, sweetie?"

"Yes, Daddy," she whispers. Her tears are hot. Her pussy is pulsing and clenching on his fingers, an appalling response. This is so awful and there's no escape that she can see.

#story by eenslaved #bd/sm kink #bd/sm daddy #male dominance #female sub #MM/f

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echoingbirdsofprey · 2 months ago

Text

Lightning On My Lips (Every Time You Kiss Me)

12 - Ain't It Funny What One Beer Can Turn Into?

Pairing: Tyler Owens x OFC Georgia Tennley

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: SMUT! oral (m&f recieving/giving), unprotected sex (wrap before you tap!) , a single booty smack, mention of previous alcohol consumption

A/N: Tyler and Georgia probably shouldn't be making decisions during sex, but hey, it was bound to happen. They're dumb in love for each other.

Playlist

His fingers intertwined with hers as he guided her away from the gathering. One beer was plenty to loosen them both up, letting their inhibitions go. They didn't care that anyone had been watching. They didn't care that they'd basically made out in front of a whole community of fellow storm chasers. They were finally on the same page.

He glanced back at her a few times as they strode toward the motel and he tried to fish his key card from his pocket. One beer deep normally had him relaxed, not goofy, but he felt like he was bouncing energy off of Georgia, so the giddiness and excitement of being intimate with her was really what was getting the best of him.

“My room, right?” He asked with a wide smirk. She nodded and laughed as he pulled her along.

“Could have at it in your truck for old times sake.” She joked and he led her to his room, which was on the ground floor. He smiled back at her as he ran the card through the door lock and it clicked open.

“After you, Peach .” He said, letting her step inside first. She could smell his cologne, which he'd obviously sprayed not long ago, but it lingered in the still air of the room. Georgia’s heart beat a million miles a minute as she caught a whiff of worn leather and sweat. She could see the sheen on his skin already, guessing the combination of beer and proximity to her, had his body temperature skyrocketing. All she wanted was to feel his warmth consuming her on all sides. She took his hat once again, placing it atop her head. Tyler didn't bother turning the light on, as there was enough coming in from the sheer closed curtains.

As Tyler shut the door and turned, he leaned against it, his head falling back. His eyes traveled from his hat, to Georgia's pretty pink lips, down to her breasts, full and perky underneath the v-neck shirt. His lips part as he focused on the little bit of skin peeking out from under the hem of the shirt, just above her belt. He licks his lips, and pushes off the door, crossing the room to meet her in two strides. He took his hat, threw it, and it landed perfectly on the small armchair. As their mouths connect, it's harsh and not at all what he meant to do.

Georgia thought for a moment her lips would be bruised from the force of their kiss, but then decided that was a silly thought. Her fingers tugged at the hair at the back of his neck. He lifted the bottom of her shirt, his blunt nails grazing over the silken skin around her hips. Their lips stay locked in a battle of passion that hadn't been had in a long time. Tyler is the first to pull away and he smirks and cocks a brow.

“That's three.” He said, voice low and lust filled. Georgia smiled as her fingers met the buttons on his shirt. She undid the top one and then glanced up at him.

“And what’s the deadline to cash in on those?” She asked, unbuttoning the next and she pressed her lips to his exposed chest. She felt his chest rumble with a primal groan and his hands moved to her belt. He tugged at it clumsily for a moment, while his nose was pressed to the top of her hair, inhaling the floral shampoo that she used. His usually calm demeanor was beginning to fray as his hands trembled.

“Why? Tryin’ to get them over with?” Tyler asked, pouting slightly as he unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. She shook her head and did the same to his, unbuckling his belt first and relieving some of the pressure in his already too tight jeans.

“No, no, quite the opposite in fact. I'd really like to earn a few more.” Georgia said and Tyler let his head fall back as her fingers deftly undid the rest of his shirt to reveal he had not worn a t-shirt underneath. His torso was taut, all lean muscle and hard planes that she couldn't resist running her hands over. She let her lips glide along his collarbone and kiss up his neck and he let out a low moan before reaching for the hem of her shirt. He pulled it up and over her head, throwing it to the floor. Her perfect breasts were spilling out of a pretty, pink, lacy bra. He leaned down, mouth exploring her neck and the top swells of her breasts as he reached around and unclasped the bra. He paused to pull it off of her and stared at her nipples for a moment before he took one in his mouth and teased the other with his rough fingers. Georgia arched toward him and her hands slid his shirt off his shoulders and down his well muscled arms.

They parted, only for a moment, so that Tyler could remove his button down the rest of the way. Georgia sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her boots off and then stood so she could shimmy out of her jeans, leaving her only in the matching pink diaphanous panties. Tyler stepped toward her, placing his booted feet on the outsides of her bare feet. Her eyes traveled up and down his body, and then they stopped at his zipper. She reached but he stopped her.

“Ah, not yet, darlin’. Let me take care of you first.” He said, as he guided her down onto the bed. Her legs were hanging off and she propped herself up on her elbows so she could watch him. He gingerly removed her panties, letting his fingers drag along her skin as he did so. She let her head fall back and then he took a hold of her thighs, spreading them. He scooted in closer, so that he could begin by kissing her stomach, then below her belly button, then each of her hip bones, and then he trailed hot kisses down the inside of each thigh. He pressed one last firm kiss right over her clit before his tongue poked out and he began to devour her at her core.

He hooked her legs over his shoulders and his hands gripped her hips as he lapped at her center. Every swipe of his tongue added more to the already glistening wetness. He always loved the taste of her. A little bit sweet, and a little bit tart, just like a peach.

She watched him as he feasted on her, his eyes flicking to hers every once in a while. When they locked, the intensity of the eye contact sent a jolt through her, adding more to the flames building in her belly. There was a fire that spread through her body, consuming her from the inside out and when it began to reach her lungs, her breath quickened. Her chest heaved as Tyler changed his tactics, sucking on her clit like he would to pull all the juice from a fruit. He was a man starved and he wouldn't stop until satiated. He reached around with one hand, two fingers spreading her more.

She felt her walls pulse hard and her abdominal muscles pulled up tight as the tsunami of release washed over her. She moaned Tyler’s name, drawing it out like a prayer as his tongue coaxed her to the other side of her orgasm. She hadn’t realized how much she was trying to squeeze her legs together until she felt his strong arms loosen. He’d been holding her steady, making sure that he was getting the perfect position throughout pleasuring her. He let her legs drape down over the side of the bed and he watched her breasts rise and fall rapidly as he wiped his mouth with his hand.

It was then that he used the bed to push himself up to stand and he chuckled slightly, remembering that he wasn’t twenty one anymore. Kneeling on the hard floor, though it was carpeted, was not terribly good for his knees, let alone any of his old injuries. As he stood, Georgia tried to compose herself quickly, springing up from the bed to help him remove his jeans. He kicked his boots off, and they landed right around where hers had, near the foot of the bed. She slid his jeans down his hips, revealing his boxers and the tent in them. He sighed in relief and moved his hand to palm himself a couple of times, trying to take the edge off. He just needed Georgia to touch him. Or be inside of her. Either one was good for him.

Georgia hooked her fingers in the waistband of his boxers and began to pull them down. His cock sprang free, fully at attention. She kissed down Tyler’s body, slow and steady, making sure she stopped at every sculpted muscle, every change in hard plane. She got on her knees in front of him and he raised a hand, bringing it to her cheek. His fingers danced along her jawline and his thumb brushed over her lips and he could remember exactly how many times he’d thought about her like this, as she leaned forward and kissed the tip of his cock. He brushed her hair from her face and gazed down at her, while she looked up at him, a lascivious and mischievous stare that would rival his own. She brought a hand up to cup his balls and her tongue darted out to take a long swipe at the underside of his length, like a popsicle. She took him in her mouth and he nearly lost control there. Her other hand traveled up the back of his well defined calf, across the dusting hair over his thigh and stopped at his chiseled hip. Her thumb brushed over the bone as she sucked his cock. He was panting and the hand that had been on her cheek drifted to the back of her neck, gathering her hair and pulling it to the side. He kept a firm hold on her hair, just helping to guide the speed with which she went down on him. He wanted slow and long pulls, just like when he fucked her, she liked his thrusts to be slow and deep. He was trying his best to prolong this as much as possible but his brain was so overloaded looking down at the girl that got away, the girl that broke his heart, on her knees in front of him. It didn't even feel real to Tyler.

Georgia had wrapped one of her hands around the base of his cock and was now pumping in time with her mouth and Tyler couldn't remember the last time it had felt that good. Sweat dripped from his brow and all of his muscles tightened as he reached his point of no return.

“ Gee...I'm gonna...fuck...I'm gonna cum...” He rasped as his fingers tightened in her hair. “ Gee, stop, you don't need to...”

Oh, but she did need to. She wanted everything Tyler was going to give her tonight. Everything. So when he tried to back away, she let go of his shaft with her one hand and slid her hands up the back of his thighs, stopping at his tight ass cheeks. She closed her eyes and swallowed his load as he came and all she could think of was how fucking wonderful his ass looked in his Wranglers. There were certain things she vowed she'd never do for any guy. But Tyler wasn't any guy. He was the one. The guy. He was the one she would break all of her rules for, every time.

The expression on Tyler's face when she gazed up through hooded eyes, was priceless. It was a mix of pleasure, confusion, and astonishment as he cradled her head in one of his hands. She licked her lips and traced the veins on the back of his hand. He put his other hand out for her to grab, helping her up. He pulled her close by her hips and their lips crashed together again.

“And what prompted that? You said you'd never...” Tyler said as they parted, but she cut him off.

“I think I'd do just about anything for you, Ty.” She said and he took a gentle hold of her face and pressed his lips to hers again. He glanced down at her and then motioned to the bed. Georgia backed up, giggling as the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed and she fell onto it. Tyler smirked as he followed her. She crawled up into the middle of the bed, wiggling her ass in his face as he pursued. He brought a hand up, laying a well placed smack across her ass. She yelped but laughed as she looked back at him. He leaned down and kissed the spot where his hand had made contact.

“Turn over. Wanna look at'cha while I fuck you.” Tyler commanded softly, kneeling and gently guiding her. He leaned down, capturing her lips as curled her arms around the back of his neck.

“Don't wanna ruin the moment but...condom?” Georgia asked and Tyler shook his head.

“I actually don't carry those around, despite what the fangirls think. Also...wasn't plannin’ on this .” He said, lips ghosting over hers, then across her cheeks, and down her neck. He stopped at her collarbone.

“Okay.” Georgia said and Tyler stretched up, tilting his head.

“Okay?” He asked and she nodded.

“Yeah it's fine. Just pull out.” She said and his eyes went wide. His cock twitched. As if he wasn't already hot and bothered, Georgia trusting him turned him on even more.

“Who are you? Holy shit.” He said as he adjusted, wrapping his hands around her thighs and pulling her closer. His cock was very much at full mast again and he could feel her wetness against the underside as their skin met.

“You told me to stop tellin’ you no. So I'm givin’ that a try.” She said as he moved his hand to rest on her stomach. He wanted to keep up the pace, but he also wanted this night to last forever. That was impossible though, so he would settle for prolonging all of this as long as he could. He smiled down at her, a goofy smile that had her looking up at him, puzzled.

“What?” She asked, as he traced the outlines of her hips, letting his fingers run along the insides of her thighs after. She propped herself up on her arms, and Tyler reached forward, taking her hair in one hand and placing it over one of her shoulders. Her bangs fell across her forehead and he was quick to move them back behind her ear.

“Just let me look for a minute.” He murmured, his sage green eyes taking their time, scanning every inch of skin that he could. Georgia absolutely gave him as long as he needed, remembering when they were together before, even as a young and horny guy, Tyler liked to take his sweet time getting to the actual sex. He spent plenty of time on her first, making sure she was satisfied, so the least Georgia could do was give him the pleasure of staring at her as long as he deemed necessary. He was analyzing where to put his hands, where to place kisses, where, if he wanted, to nip at her skin. He was studying where the spots were that he could touch that would pull the most painful moans from those pretty pink lips, and what would make her say his name like a prayer.

She laid back down, shooting him a sassy grin. She'd guessed he'd had enough time to figure out what he wanted to do next, because he splayed his fingers across her stomach and adjusted his hips. He took his length in his other hand, pumped a few times and locked eyes with Georgia.

“May I?” He asked and Georgia nodded excitedly. He braced himself, just pressing his tip at her entrance, testing the waters. He knew he wasn't going to last long and he knew she was trusting him, playing a dangerous game. As he pressed in further, opening the angle of his pelvis, the muscles in his hips got tighter, and a twinge of pain shot down his thighs. It almost felt good to him. Sometimes he forgot he used to ride bulls. Feeling her warmth and softness around his length allowed him some relief from how hard his cock felt. He took a few deep breaths as he leaned over her, his hands on either side of her head. She took a hold of his biceps as he let himself slide slowly inside of her the rest of the way, bottoming out as he reached her deepest parts. A low and strangled moan left her as her nails dug into his arms. He stayed there, hips pressed into her as far as he could, letting her relax. He knew he wasn’t hurting her, but it had been so long for both of them that they just needed a minute to calm down.

“Okay?” He asked, breath heavy as he hovered over her, touching the tip of his nose to hers. She nodded as she swallowed hard and opened her eyes. Blue met green and she smiled and touched her forehead to his.

“More than okay, Ty.” She kissed him and he took that as his sign to pick up a slow rhythm, his thrusts carrying a greater weight than he realized in the moment. He loved to make love to her, and that’s exactly what he was doing. It didn’t occur to him to speed up, or use more force. He also needed time to warm up for those things. He was comfortable in the steady pocket he’d created with her. She kept him close, her fingers tangling in the shorter hair at the base of his skull. Their mouths were only inches apart, breathing each other’s air as Tyler’s movements became slightly more shallow. The heat and proximity to Georgia had him already on edge from the beginning. There had just been something in the air tonight that had them both so down bad for each other. He stopped for a moment so that they could focus on exploring each other’s mouths again. Tyler’s lips met her ear and he whispered to her.

“ Think I’m in love with ya, Gee.” His voice was barely audible, especially over their panting, but she definitely heard him. She took his head in her hands and kissed him hard and as they parted, his brows knitted.

“ Tyler...we’ve always been in love... ” Georgia’s voice was soft, almost nervous sounding to him and his eyes studied hers. “And I want absolutely everything you’ll give me.”

His brows raised, his expression a mixture of concern and confusion. She ran her fingers down his back, stopping at his hips to pull them in. He took this as an okay to keep going. His thrusts were unsteady and hesitant and he dropped his head to press his lips to her collarbone, before locking eyes with her again. She trailed her hands back up his strong back, stopping one hand at the back of his neck. She pulled him in for another kiss and her other hand landed back on his bicep, fitting perfectly around the bulging muscle. Tyler felt his abdominal muscles drawing up tighter and tighter as his hips stuttered, losing rhythm. He started to pull out, but Georgia locked her legs around his hips and stopped him. His breathing became shallow as the green of his eyes met her blue and she spoke softly, lips meeting his once more.

“Don’t pull out, Tyler.” She said and he smiled, the air between them hot and heavy as he panted out a response.

“Are you sure?” He asked and she nodded. He gathered his resolve, moving one of his hands between their bodies and searching for her clit. With their mutual decision, and the passion between them filling the air, it didn’t take long, only a few more thrusts of Tyler’s hips and he was spilling inside of her, as she came too, her walls clamping down hard, and his name leaving her lips in a desperate and needy moan.

Tyler hovered above her, shaking and panting as he came down from his release. Georgia was absentmindedly playing with the hair at the back of his head, massaging her fingers through it over and over as she gazed up at him with a satisfied smile. She relaxed her legs, letting them fall to the sides of him.

“You realize what we just did?” He asked, rubbing his prickly cheeks lovingly up and down her neck like a cat.

“Well, you did say you wanna settle down at some point.” Georgia mused and Tyler’s grin got even wider. As he finally pulled out, he collapsed to the side of her and rubbed his hands over his face. Georgia rolled to face him, hooking a leg over his hips. He pulled her leg up further and pushed his hips toward her. She folded her arms against his chest, splaying her fingers over his pecs. She played with his chest hair as his other arm wound around her back and pulled her as tight as he could against himself.

They fell asleep like that, perfectly satisfied in each other’s arms.

#tyler owens x oc #tyler owens fic #tyler owens #twisters fic #twisters 2024 #glen powell

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tadpolesonalgae · 1 year ago

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smoking sesh with feysand turned smut, feyre usung her firemagic to light up a blunt and it becomes a smoking circle turned to sex when reader blows smoke into rhys or feyres mouth😟

Hi! Thank you so much for your request! I’m slowly beginning to work my way through these, and Take A Hit[*] will be going up today at 19:00 (England) 🧡💛

Warnings: smut, oral, mirthroot

‘ Feyre gives you a singular look—it’s all you need to come to an agreement. Then she’s shifting from your lap, the two of you standing. Your High Lady pushes her palms to his chest, guiding him back to an armchair, lightly shoving him so he sits. You follow lazily behind her, sliding to your knees between his legs, leaving for a little space to crawl forward. Slowly. Sultrily.

Violet eyes twinkle with interest, Feyre walking round to be behind her mate, arms sliding down his chest, running her fingertips beneath the hem of his leathers. Already you can make out the shape of his arousal, making your skin burn with heat. “Feyre finally manage to persuade you, huh?” He drawls, a slow grin spreading across his mouth as you slot yourself between his powerful thighs. Eyes lock as you lower to his crotch, teeth clasping the ties, pulling the already loosened knot out. ’

‘ Moaning softly, you suction your mouth to the intimate skin of his abdomen, flicking against him, putting your marks into him. Rhys groans roughly, no doubt exchanging bets and other filthy words with his mate, discussing what to do with you. How to most enjoy the night.

You move to the trail of dark hair, kissing down until you again have to peel his clothes from him. Salivate at the sight of him, long, thick; appetisingly hard. Moisture beading at his tip. Eyes flutter when his grip roughens on your hair, hand fisting his cock, holding you just out of reach of him. Whimper to get his attention, but Feyre’s already leaning down over him, sliding the blunt back between your lips. ’

#anons <3 #requests!#Feysand #Feysand smut #Feysand x reader #sneak peek #poly!fics

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degloved · 1 year ago

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some

some scott tibbs content mayhaps??

a confession: i have never even so much as approached the scott tibbs side of the fandom, however, i am so determined to do all these that i really, really wanted to try. even if i'm flying by the seat of my pants here, a little bit. hope i didn't disappoint!!

also, my first crack at writing adam. a lil intimidating altogether, but yknow. expanding my horizons and all that.

‼️SAW REQS STILL OPEN‼️

Adam's apartment wasn't all that different from his own, Scott concluded as he took stock of his surroundings. Cramped, a little decrepit. To say lived in would be… very generous.

In not so many words: a shithole.

Maybe that was why he felt right at home. The thought brought a wry little smile to his face, brief. Chased away before it had the chance to stick.

"Shit, man, take a seat. You want something to drink? I've got some… well, I've got something," Adam chuckled, a little awkwardly.

Scott rounded the couch, picked an armchair to plop down into. Observed Adam's constipated little expression with great interest.

"Just water. Thanks."

"Right. On it."

Scott was a curious guy by nature, and in the interest of practicing kindness towards oneself—thus not suppressing that very nature—he let his eyes roam. They lingered on the brand-new set of throw-pillows carefully fluffed up and meticulously arranged along the saggy leather couch, the odd book haphazardly left on the coffee-table here and on the TV stand there (some thick ass tomes they were, too, and—alright, call him an asshole, but he never would've taken Adam, the dude that had fought tooth and nail through middle school English, for a connoisseur of… medical literature, by the looks of things.)

Was that a pair of reading glasses perched atop the suspiciously stocked bookshelf?

The clank of ice-cubes against glass was the harbinger of Adam's return; extremely tentative steps were taken toward the sitting area in an effort not to spill the sloshing liquid.

Notably, he set them down on… coasters? Scott had to do a double take, there.

But, yup, sure enough. Two matching coasters. Pastel.

"Huh."

Adam's head snapped up, eyes landing on him. Scott let the moment stretch, absentmindedly rubbing his faintly-bearded chin.

"Well, what?" Adam's voice betrayed impatience. (Still easy to rile up, then.)

"Y'know, I never was one to put much stock into that whole…" he waved a hand through the air, gesturing vaguely, "line of logic your friend Jigsaw's got going on."

Adam tensed.

"All that stuff and nonsense 'bout change and rebirth—or whatever the press like saying these days. Walk into a game some… lowlife piece of shit, walk out enlightened. Or whatever the fuck." Scott sat up, leaned forward, "But maybe he's got a point."

"Scott, I swear… I mean, cut that shit out, man. S'not cool. Really isn't." Adam looked this way and that, eyes inexplicably flickering towards a particular closet by the front door. His fingers twitched, tugged at the hem of his sleeve.

"Hey, don't get all spooked on me now," Scott chuckled, "All I'm try'na say is, all my life I've seen you use a damn coaster exactly once—when my Ma asked you to, the first time you came over. Ended up such a hassle, she ain't ever ask you again." He cleared his throat, engaging a pause for dramatic effect, "And now you're setting them out on your own volition."

Adam snorted, though didn't appear very amused just yet. "You're losing me here, dude."

"My point is," Scott rolled his eyes, tossing a significant look Adam's way, "It's really not about the coasters. Your dump's full of shit that doesn't belong in a dump. Shit I know you didn't bring into the dump. Doesn't look like you've got a live-in, though."

"I don't," Adam stated, firm, though was quick to add: "Any kind. I don't, point-blank. Maybe I'm expanding my horizons here, reading up on interesting shit, you don't know me. You haven't seen me in… what, four years? Five?"

Scott had to roll his eyes, politeness be damned. He'd never heard a dumber sentence. Which was saying a lot, because… "I've known you since diapers, moron. Four, five years doesn't take away from having spent the first eighteen of our lives joined at the hip. Don't lie to me like I'm your damn dad. Jesus."

"Whatever, man," Adam sighed, took a careful sip. Scott regaled him with another completely warranted eye-roll.

Though he did cut him some clack thenceforth, easing away from that (apparently) sore subject—and all others of that nature, which Adam certainly wasn't short of—in favor of engaging in some pleasant mutual reminiscence and casual small talk. Slightly-mind numbing, past a certain point, though Scott supposed he mightn't be too hard on him. Not much time has passed since… well. That unfortunate event that might've changed the trajectory of his life. Wagered Adam would speak on the matter when ready.

They frittered away a couple of hours in this manner.

Honestly—Scott would swear up and down—he really did think he'd be able to let the sleeping dogs lie. Truly.

...but maybe the sight of an old hickey, unfortunately revealed by Adam's ill-timed tug at his sweater's collar, stirred something a little mean in him.

Before the other could get halfway through a 'bye, then', Scott made the executive decision to press him up against the doorway, hands dipping down the back pockets of those ratty jeans, noses bumping. He didn't kiss him. He might yet, if the circumstances call for it. As it was, he was still close enough to feel Adam's breath, warm against his upper lip.

"Scott… hey, listen," Adam gently shoved against his chest, successfully putting a mite more space between them, "We can't- it's not—"

"No? That's a first, coming from you."

Adam flushed, a pretty crimson stretching from his neck up. "I just… okay, I don't- well, it's just—"

Scott backed off, a smirk playing about his lips. Gotcha. "Give your boyfriend my best."

Having left Adam sufficiently speechless, he bounced.

#i really hope this is the sorta thing you wanted !!!! i don't know what the popular storyline abt scott is so i just. winged it. basically #i think its nice though <3 #scott tibbs #adam faulkner stanheight #chainshipping #saw #n #fic request

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vamp-domme · 2 years ago

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Choose Your Own Gothic Horror Adventure: Part V

You think your options over for a minute as you stare out the window, looking out over tree-lined hills and forbidding mountains under a piercing blue sky. They all have their perks, but you like the idea of having some time to yourself to look after the library, and you secretly hope Lady Midnight might be a frequent visitor.

"I think I'd like to be a librarian," you finally muse.

"Okay!" the girl replies, clapping her hands in excitement. "I'll let one of the daughters know, and when you're feeling better, I'll take you to the library." She gives you a warm smile. "I'm Olivia, by the way."

Her excitement is infectious, and you reply with your name, after which she leaves, promising to come check on you later. You have plenty more questions, but you feel a bit too woozy to ask them, and it feels more comfortable to just lie down and look out the window.

It takes the better part of the day for you to recover, between the blood loss and the exhaustion from the prior night's events, and your light-headedness only begins to pass as night again falls over the castle. Olivia checks on you throughout the day, bringing you food and showing you around the east wing, where your room is located.

The next day you visit the library, on the first floor of the north wing. It's a large room the size of most people's houses, its shelves stuffed with books from floor to ceiling, complete with step stools to reach the highest volumes, along with plush sofas and tables with plenty of candelabras to read by. A cheery hearth sits at the north end of the room beyond the mazes of bookshelves, surrounded by comfy armchairs and tables. Near that is the small room where you work, an old pine writing desk stuffed full of ledgers notating each book and its current whereabouts dominating the room, along with a small window.

You spend quite a few days just getting to grips with your new position - there are blessed few instructions written by previous caretakers, so you often find yourself making things up as you go. While you tried to avoid being a cleaner, cleaning the library itself still falls to you, as well as ensuring the books are undamaged. There are all kinds of volumes spanning countless genres, though none are more than 50 years old, and you imagine the lady of the castle likely keeps her own private collection somewhere.

Fledglings, a term you quickly learn applies to yourself and most of the other residents here, often visit the library, reading and checking out different books to entertain themselves when their chores are finished. Most of them are your age, though some are older, and they tend to view you with quite a bit of interest, many of them sharing Olivia's excitement in welcoming the new arrival.

You begin to settle in to your role, though you seldom catch a glimpse of the enigmatic Lady Midnight, who keeps to her own nocturnal schedule and sometimes seems not to be within the castle at all.

After a week has passed, you find yourself studying a manual on book binding by candle light, hoping to fix up an old sewing manual that needs your attention, when you hear the doors to the library open and shut, followed by the click of a bolt sliding into place.

You get up and pass between the shelves, but when you reach the door, you find it's not only shut, but locked.

"Hello?" you call out, feeling a bit nervous. "Is anyone there?" You pace through aisles of books, but no one lurks there, only the shadows that creep in through the windows and the occasional pop of the low fire in the hearth.

"I have fond memories of this book." You whirl around to see Lady Midnight in the chair you just vacated, the old sewing manual in her hands. She wears a tight black dress fringed with lace, its hem ending well above her knees, every voluptuous curve of her body on full display. Her legs are crossed one over the other, and she wears high leather boots over tight black stockings, and you realize you've never seen her in something this revealing before. She regards the book with an air of melancholy, her dark eyes poring over its pages almost lovingly.

"It was brought to me by a housewife who was on the run after poisoning her philandering husband," she continues wistfully. "She learned true love within these very walls."

You take a few steps out of the aisles, until you're standing near Lady Midnight in the lounge. "What happened to her?"

The lady sighs. "She died, as all mortals do." She sets the book down and stands up, crossing the room toward you. "It appears you've settled in to your new role quite well." She eyes you up and down, and you can see a hint of something dark in that gaze.

"Y-yes I have," you reply quickly. "You have a beautiful library here, and I'm happy to take care of it."

She takes a few more steps forward until she's positively inches from you. "Beautiful, mm? You have quite the way with words, darling." She takes a strand of your hair and curls it around her index finger. Her hands are pale and delicate, with sharp nails painted dark red.

"T-thank you, my lady." It feels miraculous you even managed to reply, as you feel yourself shrinking in her presence. Everything about her threatens to overwhelm you, and it feels like all of your senses are on fire.

She takes your chin in her other hand and tilts your face up toward her. You feel yourself falling into her gaze again, but after what happened before, you try desperately to keep your composure.

"Tell me, darling," Lady Midnight begins, her eyes deep pools of scarlet. "Do I frighten you?"

Previous entries:

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

#vampirecore #vampire #cyogha #my post #my polls

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vibratingskull · 1 year ago

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Strip tease

Ar’alanixFemaleReader

tags: some sub innuendos, nsfw hinted at the end

You gulp trying to steady your breathing in the dark of your room, you try to place yourself in the middle and strike a pose.

The music starts and with it the undulation of your body, you don’t put on the light yet, knowing full well the female chiss in the armchair, also just in her undergarments, could see you without it. You first play with the veils of your laced babydoll; you know she loves this color on you, you’ve chosen it specially for her viewing pleasure.

You swing your hips in rhythm, your hands above your head, you spin on yourself and grab the remote control and slowly put the light on, revealing the plumpness of your body to her eyes.

Silently, she observes, stern and cold, she occasionally brings her wine to her luscious lips and you trace your own at the tip of your fingers like you desperately want to taste them right here and there. As she looks at you, you feel the fire ignite in your body and soul and decide to let go of everything.

You make quick work of your babydoll with a grin, wetting your lips with your tongue as you untie your hair and let them fly freely with your dance. You jump, spin, cross and uncross your legs, grab your bum and breasts, let your hands roaming on your body, you whine and gasp, calling her name licking your finger as you look at each other.

You never felt more beautiful than under her gaze.

You see her inspire as you put off your bra straps and let them slide on your skin, you unhook your bra with and throw it to her with a kiss. You grope your breasts and knead them with pleasured whine; you expose them proudly to her. Then it’s turn for your panties. You let your hands caressing your body as they reach the hem of your undergarment, you play with it, hooking its sides with your fingers. You swing and balance your hips to slide it down, and you shove it to the side with your feet and a joyful laugh.

You are having so much fun right now.

Without cutting eye contact you drop on all fours and slowly walk toward her, you take her ankle, kiss it adoringly, you then lick your way up a crossed leg with a guttural growl stopping at the hem of her panties, her nails dig into the expensive leather. Rising your head and your body you take her glass and sit astride her lap, you put butterfly kisses on her breasts and trail up to her neck and her jaw. You kiss the tip of her nose and take a sip of her wine with an insolent look, you gently tilt her chin and kiss her deeply, allowing her to quench her thirst at the fountain of your lips.

You separate short of breath and her hands come to wrap your back.

“I am pleased to see you’re in great form tonight, let us see how long you can last.” She softly speaks, grinning.

@bluechiss

#ar'alani #ar'alani x reader #admiral ar'alani #thrawn #fanfic #vibratingskull

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decorworks · 3 months ago

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10 Easy Pieces: Chrome Framed Lounge Chairs

From Le Corbusier to West Elm, here are our 10 favorite lounge chairs bolstered with a sturdy chrome frame for industrial appeal.

Above: Designed by Gianfranco Frattini in 1970 and reissued through Tacchini, the Sesann Armchair is made in Seveso, Italy with hearty upholstery and a chrome frame. Contact Spartan for price and ordering information.

Above: The Desmond Chair features an exterior metal frame and slouchy cushion that is GreenGuard certified; starting at $719.20 from West Elm.

Above: The original chrome frame lounge chair designed by Pierre Jeanneret, Charlotte Perriand, and Le Corbusier in 1928 is the LC3 Grand Modele Armchair designed with a tubular frame and leather upholstery; $6,760 at Design Within Reach. Consider looking for this model on vintage sites from 1st Dibs to Chairish and more. Additionally, LC2 Petit Modele Armchair is $5,244.

Above: Designed by Faye Toogood in collaboration with Hem, the Puffy Lounge Chair, shown in Natural and Stainless Steel, is $3,359 at Hem.

Above: Ellison Studios’s Chromeo Chair, shown in Sorrento Corduroy, has a Bauhaus-inspired chrome frame and is often paired with the Chromeo Ottoman. The chair is $2,895 at Design Within Reach.

Above: Likely borrowing inspiration from the Faye Toogood design from above, the Orren Ellis Amielia Upholstered Armchair comes in cream or black sherpa for $1,719.99 at Wayfair.

Above: Designed by Ronan and Erwan Bouroullec for HAY, the Can Lounge Chair features a chromed steel frame and various colors of canvas upholstery; £1,799 at Twenty Twenty One.

Above: The West Elm Nina Leather Chair features a simple, gentle curve in polished stainless steel and leather or vegan leather; $1,039 to $1,449.

Above: Designed by Copenhagen-based Kristina Dam Studio, the Solitude Lounge Chair takes inspiration from the Bauhaus movement and is upholstered in coarse-woven Italian bouclé; $2,995 at TRNK.

Above: Paulo Mendes da Rocha’s Paulistano Armchair is made from a continuous 17-foot-long piece of solid steel and sling seat; $2,316 at Design Within Reach. For more favorite lounge chairs see our posts: - 10 Easy Pieces: Puffy Lounge Chairs - 10 Easy Pieces: Canvas Lounge Chairs - 10 Easy Pieces: Sheepskin Lounge Chairs - 10 Easy Pieces: Leather Sling Lounge Chairs - 10 Easy Pieces: Wingback Chairs - 10 Easy Pieces: Leather Club Armchairs Read the full article

#chairs #Chrome #easy #Framed #LOUNGE #Pieces

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glitterdustcyclops · 5 months ago

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theodore fox, the witch of the woods

this is a lil snippet of a thing i was polishing up today, from a story about a grumpy reclusive witch who, through Contrived Circumstances, ends up binding a familiar to him. that familiar turns out to be a pretty catboy with green eyes. homosexual shenanigans, as always, ensue.

“Yoo-hoo!” came a bird-chime call through the open window, loud enough to startle Theo into dropping his pestle.

He knew that voice. Mirabelle.

He’d been so focused on his work he’d missed the ringing of his wards; his land regretfully knew Mira as friendly enough not to raise a true alarm, and so he hadn’t noticed the more subtle tug meant to alert him to an approaching guest. Theo sighed, rolling his eyes impatiently as he swept up the spilled nettlethorne pollen back into his mortar and quickly wiped his hands on the hem of his apron. It wouldn’t do to get the pollen all over a visitor, even one as intrusive and obnoxious as Mirabelle.

She let herself in through the front door of the cottage but a moment later, whistling merrily, her dust-covered worn leather boots stomping onto his doormat as she did.

“Hullo Mr. Archie!” she sing-songed at him, laughing heartily.

Theo pragmatically ignored her calling him the entirely wrong name, and instead gave the cottage at large a weary sigh before meeting her at the doorway to accept the basket she proferred in her other hand, bursting with the bounty of her garden. She gave him a playful little wink as he took it, but at least she had finally learned not to try and offer him a kiss on the cheek as well. Though it was a near thing. Instead, she shut the door behind her and moved herself over to side of the cottage, bustling about his little kitchen, filling the battered copper kettle with water from the tap and then setting it back on the stove to boil, whistling away as she did. She hadn’t even asked first—of course she hadn’t. That would invite Theo to refuse, and then she would simply ignore him anyway.

Such were the ways of one Mirabelle Larkley.

She was a strange creature, roughly humanoid in form, with skin the warm brown of a fresh fawn, dappled with odd patches of creamy-white around her mouth and nose, along the tops of her shoulders and her elbows and knees, the hint of her belly that peaked through her blouse occasionally. Her face was heart-shaped and pretty—as she had explained to him often enough—with round, full cheeks and a pointed little chin, all dusted with a cinnamon sprinkling of freckles. Her eyes were clever and brown and constantly glimmering with mirth, while her hair was the exact shade of clover field, and when it was left down it felt nearly to her waist in a wild tumble of corkscrew-curls. Though for the most part she kept it pinned up and out of the way in two small knots on either side of her head—all the better to show off the hand-painted wooden sunflowers dangling on metal hooks from her knife-pointed ears. Every spring she sprouted a new pair of small antlers, only to shed them by summertime, and it was this season when Theo was most in danger of her constant interruptions, as she sought the particular healing salve he’d perfected to help ease the pain of her annual eruption.

Mirabelle Larkley was one of the Fae that dwelled in this realm, and for some unfathomable reason, she had taken it upon herself to befriend one Theodore Fox, reclusive Woodswitch, whether he wanted it or not.

“Got some good stuff for you this time, love,” she was saying as she helped herself to the crusty loaf of bread he’d baked that very morning, left-half eaten on the counter. She sliced off thick wedges of it before slathering them in his butter and his honey, arranging it all on two of his chipping ceramic plates without so much as a “by your leave sir” before she carried it all, along with two steaming mugs of steeping peppermint tea balanced expertly in her hands, over towards the small wooden table between two lovingly over-stuffed green velvet armchairs that waited in front of the hearth on the far side of the cottage.

Theo did not remark upon this either, as he set the basket she’d handed him down on his work table and went to join her.

“The hollyhops are doing really well now, so we’ve got lotsa those, and of course your usual bundles of sage and lavender and nightshade, and I sweet-talked the moonthistle into letting me take a few pods, I know you said last time you were running low,” Mira continued explaining, even though Theo hadn’t asked.

He watched her with an unwelcome sort of fondness as she took a large bite out of her hunk of bread, and blew on his own mug to help cool it.

“Thank you,” he managed after a moment, with less grace than he thought he should have. He was still reeling from her interruption, and even besides that, he really had never been gifted overmuch with anything approaching charm, even in his best moments. And yet, despite how overbearing Theo often found Mirabelle’s constant too-cheerful presence in his life to be, he was appreciative of some of the benefits it brought. Namely, reliable access to some of the rarest magical specimens known in this realm, the ones that were so hard to cultivate few mortals were foolish enough to try. Certainly Theo didn’t have the patience or bravery to keep a [magical plant scientific name] alive.

Wasn’t it terribly ironic, then, that while Theo mostly found Mira to be heedlessly rude and annoyingly chattery, she was, he could grudgingly admit, rather splendidly gifted when it came to nurturing all the magical bounties of this particular forest. It almost outweighed the aforementioned tendency towards chattery-ness. Almost.

“So anyway, did you hear? The bees told me—you know the blacksmith of Greenlark Village, down yonder? His wife is having an affair with the butcher’s wife, and both of the men are plotting actual murder about it.”

The non sequitur threw him.

“The bees told you,” Theo replied, flatly, before he could hold his tongue.

Mira nodded emphatically, giggling as she did. “Yeah! You know, they say all sorts of interesting stuff, if you can listen. Bees just know all the best secrets!”

And she winked at him then, with a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. Right. Of course Mirabelle Larkley could talk to bees. Why should Theo expect anything less?

#my stuff #oc talk #predictably i have created a female side character for a m/m story that is so cool i only wanna write about her and not the dudes fucking #which is presumably the entire point of the story #you wil not believe how many times this has happened to me

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