blushlambs

[blushlambs]

hello hai

[blushlambs]

Girl where did you go😔

i have become a corporate slave and a slut i fear

[blushlambs]

you’re so so gorgeousness queen 🫶🫶

thank you so much!!

everyone’s being so lovely right now omg i feel so happy !! thank you boosting my ego guys <3 i love you all

[blushlambs]

im not dead i promise

just sick and not motivated at all to write ♡

hope i get better soon 🤞

[blushlambs]

art fucking me while wearing nothing but his backwards cap would have me like 😵‍💫😵‍💫 i would do anything for that slutty blonde man and his slutty backwards cap.

frat boy!art …. oh god…. he’s sweet art and he’s a gentleman but the fraternity has given him an ego. when he started college he was shy, timid, didn’t know how to talk to girls. and then he rushed to get more friends and girls started throwing themselves at him faster than he could keep up. he went from a shaky make out session in august to a body count of seven by halloween and that didn’t count the girls he wasn’t interested in.

and you like art; he’s smarter than he lets on even though he tells people he isn’t, that he’s only at stanford because of athletics. but you don’t want to fuck him because you know his type. the guy who realizes now that he’s hot and has a good body and he doesn’t wanna be held down by a whiny girl. it just screamed problematic to you. so you let him down politely.

but there’s something about how fucking charming he is. how he takes the rejection with grace. still invites you to the parties his fraternity is throwing, tells you and your friends to find him if there’s any trouble.

art sees it before you do. a creep from another frat who somehow snuck in the door and was about to grope your ass before art socked him in the face.

you hated to be so easy but watching him punch a guy with zero hesitation, shaking his hand and sucking his blood from the cut on his knuckles—made your previous rejection nullify.

because now you’re in his room asking him if his hand is okay but you’re pushed against his door and his mouth is opening so you can push your tongue inside. you do. his hands roam down your back and he carries you to his bed and then his shirt is off, his shorts, his tiny briefs.

his body is fucking perfect and you don’t want to ogle but jesus christ.

your hand quickly wraps around his cock and it’s so hard already. his moans and mewls tumble into your mouth as you milk him with both hands. head lolling back so you can kiss his throat, his bobbing adam’s apple.

but he wants to be in control. he wants your pussy wrapped around his cock—he’s been thinking about it since he met you two months ago.

you realize his hat is still on; it’s backwards and his curls poke out from the bottom, drops of sweat plopping onto your stomach as he pushes into you in missionary and god his cock is fucking perfect. why did you ever say no?

he pushes your knees back to get so deep that you’re arching your back and begging for more than he can even dream of giving you.

“it’s all in baby, you want me to fuck you hard?” he asks, thrusting in sharp, precise motions, a staccato. “or do you want me to fuck you deep?” he slows down, and that’s what makes you want to cum right then and there, the feeling of every inch of him. in and out so fucking slow and deliberate.

but then he wants you to ride him and you do, clawing at his pretty pale chest, marking him up. reveling in how his big hands feel on your tits, your ass, the small of your back.

it’s uncomfortable for him to lay down with his hat still on so he puts it on you instead. you’re not sure why it turns you on. you ride him hard and fast.

“fuck—you’re so big—“ you hiss, throwing your head back.

art pulls you into him so your stomach is flush against his, your tits pressed against him. he palms your ass and fucks into you and you’re squeezing him harder and harder. you’re about to cum, and so is he.

“yeah? want me to fill this little fucking pussy up?”

you’ve never heard art be so vulgar.

[blushlambs]

fucking daydreaming about virgin art, all doe-eyed and innocent, following his best friend's directions.

"c'mon, art, put your hand down your pants. no- no, not so harsh, just tease yourself a little. gently." he follows everything you say, nodding and chewing his bottom lip between his teeth. "'kay, will you take your shorts off for me? i wanna see. yeah, yeah good, boxers too."

he hisses as the waistband brushes against his pink, angry tip. "can i touch now?"

"no, spit into your hand first." a rosy blush crawls up his neck as he lets a glob of saliva drop into his hand. "are you embarrassed?"

"no," he scoffs, but the flustered look on his face says otherwise. "i know how to jerk off, you know?"

it's your turn to scoff, rolling your eyes when you do. you shift on the bed, shuffling closer to him. "yeah, i've heard all about it from patrick. just shut up and wrap your hand 'round your cock, okay?"

he groans and does as you say, wet up hand resting at his base.

"'kay now just slowly jerk yourself off. like really slowly." he complies, smoothing his hand up to the tip of his cock languidly. "yeah, that's good. just keep doing that."

art pants, already starting to struggle. "can you take your shirt off?"

"ew, you pervert!"

art looks bewildered, brows furrowed together. "i'm the pervert? look at you! you're getting off to making your best friend touch himself."

"am not!" but you totally are, hips rutting into the pillow beneath you. he huffs frustratedly and squints at your shirt.

the shirt you're wearing happens to be uncomfortable. that's the only reason you take it off. not 'cause he asked for it. art moans breathily at your nipples pebbling against your lacy bra.

"'kay, you wanna speed it up?" he looks so pathetic, nodding eagerly for whatever you'll give him. "go ahead..." he strokes himself at a comfortable pace, not too quick but enough to satisfy that urge. your hips speed up to match his strokes, clit pressing deliciously against your panties.

he gets needier with each passing moment, slipping into that submissive role you love to get him in. his eyes follow every bounce of your tits, drool escaping from the corner of his mouth when you exaggerate the movements a bit.

"how're you feeling, baby? tell me."

he whimpers, fist coming up to brush against his sensitive. "s-so good, uh- feels so good, want more p-please, plea- please?"

"hmm, how 'bout you get that little bit of pre on your slit? yeah, with your thumb. 'kay, c'mon, taste yourself." he groans at the lack of attention on his dick while he sucks the salty liquid off his thumb. "that's it, good boy."

"t-thank you," he blushes. "can i touch?"

you nod and giggle at how eager he is to wrap his fist around his dick again. "'let's go a little faster, yeah? you're doing so good, you deserve it."

he sighs breathily as he jerks himself off, a slick patter of skin and arousal with each quick drag. his eyes slip shut, blown out pupils no longer glued to your tits. airy moans turn to louder groans. he's close.

"aw, you gonna come, art? gonna be a good boy for me?"

his chest heaves, "yes, oh! yes please, let me come for you? need to- need to so bad!"

you giggle as he struggles and squirms, hips bucking up into his fist.

"hands off." his broken whimper almost makes you pity him. "stop fucking touching yourself." your firm tone has him pulling his hand away, desperately rutting his hips into the air for any sort of friction.

"nice try," you say, hovering over his chest. "but you know you gotta beg better than that. let's try again, yeah?"

[blushlambs]

dilf!patrick realizing he created a monster (he loves it) when you become obsessed with his cock. after he folds and fucks you in the bathroom of a dingy little bar downtown, you don't leave him alone. you call him when you're lonely and sometimes it's right after you've just clocked out of work. still sitting in your running car as the rain splatters against your windshield. sniffling over the phone and telling patrick you need his cock.

"can i come over--can you please cum inside me? i want it, i'm--i'm on birth control."

patrick mutters something. "jesus christ, baby."

you start crying. thinking he doesn't want you like you do him. but he does; he always does. hasn't been able to look at the dating apps filled with women his age. they don't fuel that same fire for him. maybe that's something he needs to think about, bring up in therapy.

but he tells you to come over anyway. you look a mess from your long shift at work and patrick only makes it worse. pulls your hair and feels your lower stomach, how his cock fills you up to the fucking brim. how you shudder beneath him and talk so much.

"cum in me--"

"spit in my mouth"

"fuck me harder"

so demanding, so needy. so slutty. he made you that way. and it makes him proud because here you are taking every inch of him and rolling your hips down to meet his thrusts. touching his balls and stroking him when he thrusts, where his body enters yours.

you have him in a trance, your moans a siren song. he forgets to pull out and his sticky cum coats your pussy, so raw from how he pounded you. the convulsions make it disappear inside and ooze back out. and god, patrick thinks. he shouldn't do this because it's risky and who even knows if you are on birth control.

you created a monster too. because he does it again and again and again.

[blushlambs]

https://www.tumblr.com/blushlambs/755107696777265152/more-of-patricks-controversially-young-college

What do you think it’s like when Patrick starts fucking her really rough🤔🤔

(18+) (part 1) (part 2)

we all know patrick’s no saint. sooner or later, he’ll give up treating her so delicately, stop acting like she’s a porcelain doll that’ll break if he’s too rough. he needs more, yearns for it deeply and he’s grown weary of restraining himself. he thinks it's what she deserves for being such a brat recently, throwing tantrums whenever she's not the center of his attention. her newfound selfish, demanding attitude has been wearing on his patience and he knows it's about time she’s reminded of her place. he’s determined to fuck that information into her.

so he teaches her a lesson, has her crying and overstimulated as he teases her tight asshole with the head of his wet cock. “bad girls don’t get their pussies fucked, babe.” he taunts her, his free hand has a deathly grip on her chin. she’s babbling, choking on her words. “mmsorry! i didn’t mean it. i really didn’t mean it, pat. please! i’m so sorry..” the sight of her frightened, pitiful expression is enough to satisfy him. “you’re sorry, huh? then fucking prove it.” the sight of her vulnerable expression, so full of fear and remorse, makes him feel more guilty than he anticipated. still, what kind of grown man allows a bratty little sophomore walk all over him? he knows he has to teach her a lesson.

“i’m a good girl, pat. i promise.”

“then c’mon baby, show me how good you can be. you know actions speak louder than words.”

[blushlambs]

dont know how into fuck or die dubcon u are but like (tw: kidnapping, heavy dubcon/fuck or die, the mafia??)

you're an escort. its not a great job, but it pays the bills. it works for you, after you dropped out of your second year of uni because you couldn't afford tuition. it keeps you in your shitty studio apartment on the total wrong side of town.

your boss like you because of your image. you're college aged. young, unblemished, sweet. he markets you as a doe-eyed little virgin. you don't make as much as the other girls because you won't actually have sex with any of the men - thats not your market. no, you're a listener, a sounding board, a sweet thing made especially to listen to shitty men whine. but he keeps you safe. ish. you're allowed to walk the street at night and other, worse men will know not to touch you. and that's when you meet them. the brown-eyed woman and her dark-haired husband. she's beautiful and powerful and irresistible. he's chaotic and messy and gorgeous. they see you at a bar. they like you. they want you. and they get what they want.

it happens so easily. a little white tab dissolves into your drink. a concerned, sweet woman slips her arm under your shoulders and promises you'll be okay. she guides you to what your drug-addled brain assumes is a cab. it's not. its her car, and she tells her husband to floor it. you wake up in a gorgeous apartment. you're tied to a chair and bleary, but you're whole, still in the clothes from the bar. and tashi duncan and patrick zweig make you a proposition.

stay with them. you don't exist anymore. you live in their house, you eat their food. you sleep in their bed and wear their clothes. they'll keep you safe, put you through the rest of uni if you want. post grad. whatever you want. in return? they just want you to be available. you're a lovely girl. a sweet girl. they want to play. a walking pocket pussy. you're theirs whenever they ask, whenever it's convenient. of course, they're not making you do anything. you can leave, if you want. but, you know. now that you've missed a day of work (you havent) your boss won't take you back. heaven forbid something happy to a pretty little thing like you, stuck on the street with no where to go.

but hey, it's not a bad gig. actually, it's pretty great - no man's ever fucked you as well as patrick does. he folds you in half on his dick all the time, and you cum from it in earnest. he'll hold you nice and open for tashi's strap, then fills you up with cum when tashis all done with you. and tashis good to you, too. she loves to break you, have you cumming and cumming and cumming until you're limp. sure, they're into some insane, depraved shit. patrick loves to fuck your ass with as little prep as humanly possible. tashi will hover her cunt over your face and let patricks cum drip out of her into your mouth. but you go to school (online, their baby girl still needs to have an eye kept on her) under a false name. you have as much clothes and food as you want. it's pretty good all things considered.

but you weren't as off the radar as they (and you) thought. someone's looking for you. a detective who cares a little too much about the down-on-their-luck of his division. art donaldsons track record for this stuff is kind of perfect, and he's not about to lose it over this.

hhhghhggghhhhhhgghghh

mafia!tashi and patrick is so….. being their free use pet <//3 you should have known they were dangerous the moment they approached you at the bar but you didn't - if anything you'd leaned into the dangerous feeling you felt - tashi was sleek like a black cat, dressed in a tight black slip. expensive. gold glittering off her in her delicate cross necklace and bracelets. her ears sparkled with diamonds. patrick looked just as expensive though significantly less pristine, a kind of feral ruggedness to him. his shirt unbuttoned at the top to show off the tuffs of hair on his chest, hair wild and looking windswept. he wore his own silver chain and silver watch around his wrist.

they looked delightfully like sin wrapped in a beautiful couple. the energy emanating from them dark and powerful. dominant. they seduced you smoothly - you thought about charging them, but the thought quickly left your mind like smoke billowing in the wind.

you deserved one night like this. just for yourself. your boss didn't have to know. you'd be gone in the morning.

but you weren't gone in the morning. and tashi and patrick weren't a normal couple.

but, you thought, you preferred this life greatly to the one you had before. you knew enough to know patrick and tashi were powerful people with powerful connections, illegal ones. the danger of it thrilled you, that two such important people desired someone like you. wanted you.

you didn't ask questions about what they did - even as curiosity tugged at your mind - questions soon leaked out of your brain the second they set their eyes on you anyway. you were like a well kept pet. a spoiled lap dog that waited eagerly for one or both of them to return to you, happily wagging your tail when you saw them.

your favorite was when they had you together, that first night after it became clear to you they weren't normal people, that they could kill you and no one would even know to look for you, the way tashi trailed the barrel of a gun shed pulled from her purse so casually against your bare shivering stomach as you sank down on her husbands cock.

you'd gasped - cunt clenching around the thick intrusion, whining when patricks big hands squeezed your waist and dragged you down the rest of the way - stuffing you full on his impossibly large dick. the tip of the gun came to rest at the place where you met - where you were speared open - pussy spread vulgarly around her partner.

“she looks tight.” her cool voice commented. but there was heat in her eyes, a roaring blaze that got stoked the longer she looked at you. “you're all inflamed down here, doll. have you ever taken a cock this big as my husbands in your little cunt before?”

your lashes fluttered to feel the metal of the gun trace the puffy lips of your cunt. patrick groaned behind you when she gently pressed the barrel against his bulging sack, before drawing it back up to your stretched hole.

“n - noooo.” you whined out, the word drawn out when those hands on your waist gripped you, started to pull your pussy up his dick - until your cunt was kissing around his fat head- sucking at it like a hungry mouth.

tashi hummed, watched as your eyes rolled back as patrick worked you back down - all that cock disappearing inside your wet cunny -

“fuck, she's tight.” he grunted. your legs shook where they splayed out around his thick thighs, settled on his lap facing his wife. “fucking strangling my cock with her little hole.” his fingers dug into your hips. “are you sure she's legal, baby?”

you don't know why that made you clench - whimper like a slut - the gasp the words strangled out from your body. you were legal. although just barely. not old enough to drink legally.

you'd been made to grow up too early, your childhood ripped from you to start escorting just to keep yourself fed. you weren't always legal when men had you - and the loss of your innocence was something you found yourself missing on long nights. the missing of a father and a mother to tell you it was too late to still be up, to have a bedtime and to be tucked in, warm and safe and cared for - instead of alone and cold and working the streets.

tashi's eyes sparkled. she knew your age, you could tell, you didn't know how she knew this about you, she probably knew alot more - but she bit her lip - “I think so.” she purred. “but I'm not sure. she is such a young looking thing isn't she?” the gun pressed against your throbbing clit. “so? how old are you, baby? why is your pussy so tight like a little girls, huh?”

your eyes watered - your cunt pulsed and throbbed around patrick - and you felt him huff at the sensation. your thighs strained and trembled. you could tell them the truth but - part of you, part of you wanted to play - just a little - you rocked your hips back and forth on the cock inside you. into the gun pressed against your clit.

made your voice purposely high pitched when you answered - “I am a little girl.” you whined, your whole body tightening, hole wetting, “I shouldn't - I shouldn't have been in the club - I lied. I'm a little girl.”

patrick cursed - tashi set aside her gun, slipped her hand into her panties - you felt him come up behind you, his hard chest pressed against your back - strong and hairy - a fucking man - and his equally strong arm scooped you under your thighs, you squealed as he yanked your legs up and slammed your little pussy on his cock, harder than he had before.

“that's a bad fucking girl.” he moaned in your ear - “but fuck you feel so sweet - that's some good fucking jailbait pussy -” his balls slapped wetly against your pussy as he handled you like a ragdoll, pummeling you on and off his dick.

you felt like you were having your guts rearranged - your eyes rolled back - your asshole tightened - every part of you was singing - you were moaning and crying and begging for it -

suddenly tashi was close again - her soft lips nearly brushing yours, her bare tits pressing against you. “where's your mommy and daddy, little girl?”

you shook your head.

“dont have - have any -” you hiccup - and tashi cooed with faux sympathy.

“I dont think that's fair.” she said. brushed your hair out of your sweaty face. traced your trembling, gasping lips. “little girls need a mommy and a daddy. else they'll wander the streets and get swept up by some bad people.”

they were the bad people. they were the monsters under your bed - the boogeyman - the things hiding in the shadows - danger and trouble and darkness all wrapped up into one.

and you wanted them to never stop fucking you.

“yes,” you gasped, opened your mouth for her finger to slide inside - “yes I want - I want a mommy. I want a daddy - please -”

she pressed her finger against your wriggling tongue, watched how your eyes crossed and you drooled so pretty for her. how you bounced like a little doll in her husbands arms, on his cock.

she leaned over you to kiss patrick, wet and messy.

“what do you think, honey? you want to be a daddy?”

neither of them wanted kids. patrick had gotten a visctomey long ago - but this wasn't about that. it was about wanting to play. they were fucked up individuals, this she knew. but something about you really did tug on her heartstrings a bit. something about your loneliness. like seeing a beaten down stray kitten caught in the rain. she wanted to take you in.

except this kitten had a pussy she wanted to fuck and use whenever she and her husband wanted.

patrick groaned against her mouth, bit down on her bottom lip until a burst of copper blood rushed into his mouth. he leaned back with a feral smirk, his chin dripping with her blood, stained red lips spread wide. he was fucking beautiful.

“sure, sweetheart, let's play house. ill be the daddy and you can be the mommy” he turned his head to nuzzle into your throat, rocked you back and forth on his lap - his cock jostling inside you. “and you'll be the good little daughter who takes daddies big dick so fucking well -”

tashi leaned back as patrick proceeded to hammer into you, biting her lip when your wails turned into chanted pleas of the word ‘daddy’ and ‘mommy’ over and over again.

she smiled.

yes. playing house would be fun.

if only you didn't have the world's up and coming best detective on your missing persons case - if only you hadn't caught the eye of the young male prodigy art donaldson, down on his luck detective, with nearly no social skills but a certain soft spot for wounded creatures that reminded him of his long lost best friend - the boy with the wild dark hair and green eyes, all those years ago who he hadn't been able to save - he sees your picture and he thinks, I'm bringing you home.

[blushlambs]

UGHH OMG MOLLY!!!! this is tewwww good

the phrase ‘good things come to those who wait’ suggests that patience often leads to rewards. however, for someone like patrick, who has never been denied anything he’s ever wanted, this sentiment may seem irrelevant. you know it simply falls on deaf ears when you deny him what he’s begging for, too fixated on the urge to shove his fat, wet cock inside your little asshole.

he’s sulking, just can’t fathom why you won’t let him abuse your tight little hole right now - refuses to move a muscle while you desperately fuck yourself back onto him. you’re feral in your movements, gripping the sheets as you grind yourself back on his cock with force. “c’mon. pat. fucking move.” you cry out. “god. just fuck me!”

the soft, wet sound of your pussy kissing his abdomen doesn’t phase him - nor do your frantic, breathless pleas as you groan in frustration. he’s being selfish, unreasonable - a brat, revelling in the control he has over your yearning. “patrick, please. please fuck me.”

he silences you by placing a thumb in your mouth, pressing hard on your tongue. the pressure forces you to cover it with saliva, the sensation both humiliating and strangely intimate. without hesitation, he pulls his thumb away and uses it to tease your little asshole, feeling it twitch and jerk at the sudden, unexpected sensation.

“only if you behave, baby.”

Wee little prompt

Can we get ‘there is no wrong hole’ with Patrick z pls

18+

it happens when patrick's fucking you from behind. his heavy balls slap against your cunt, a sinful smack of skin with every quick thrust. patrick, being gross, perverted patrick, pulls out halfway and means to spit on his cock to fuck his saliva into you. but instead it lands on right on the tiny little hole that's been teasing him ever since he got you in this position.

you jolt a bit from the new sensation.

"oops, wrong hole," he mutters before gently brushing his fingertip over your asshole causing his spit to drip down onto your cunt. your pussy clenches around him, suffocating his cock.

"there is no wrong hole."

and fuck, patrick has to take a second to compose himself before he comes inside you.

"oh yeah?" he taunts as his fingers linger against your asshole. "you gonna let me play with her some day?"

you groan impatiently and fuck yourself back on his cock.

"only if you behave."

[blushlambs]

[blushlambs]

art donaldson full-on steals your panties from the laundry basket when you’re not home.

he would never admit it to you, but there’s certainly been more than one occasion where he’s taken your underwear from the hamper and balled it up in his fist before pressing it into the lower half of his face and just huffing it.

his face will scrunch right up; his pretty brows all knitted and his eyes fluttering shut.

you usually smell so clean. so fresh. like strawberries and cream, or daisies and sandalwood.. stuff like that. so there’s just something so fuckin’ dirty about smelling the way your body marks your clothes with your own sweat and fluids. it’s rich and it’s heady and it’s so good.

art loves it.

the smell of you—the scent of you—is like his kryptonite. it boils a heat in the depths of his gut and makes his cock swell instantly. he’ll sniff every inch of the fabric like a damn dog, pushing his nose into it as he fists the ache between his legs until his back arches and he squirts; pretty little whimpers and loud groans pouring from his chest as his head tips back.

sometimes he’ll come on top of his stomach, still breathing in your musk, and other times he’ll come all over the pretty fabric still clutched in his hand. he glazes it with his spend, bucking into the soft cotton material, and biting down on his lip when he thinks about how weirded out you would (probably) be if you found out he did this sort of stuff.

he can’t help himself— it’s like a compulsion. but as long as you don’t find out about his perverted little habits, he has no intention of stopping.

[blushlambs]

best friends art & patrick falling for their girly girl best friend. you’re so innocent and sweet with your little ribbons in your hair and your little dresses and your little pink nails and the little lana songs you force them to listen to in the car.. they wake up one day and suddenly both want to die bc they want you so bad

i made her a bitch my bad 😞🎀

little girly girl who’s presence possesses an elusive quality that drives patrick and art insane. you’re not oblivious to the effect you have on your best friends, it’s partially why you act in such manner. the bows, the lace, the coy demeanor - they're all deliberate choices, designed to both provoke and intrigue, leaving them frustrated and captivated by your every move. if anything, it’s driven them closer.

they’re so intrigued by your feminine energy; your extensive wardrobe, your desire to constantly look perfect and your fussy, uncompromising attitude towards their interests. you outright refuse to play tennis with them, dismissing it as a sport for men. realistically, they should hate your guts. you’re pathetic, self absorbed and an outright bitch - at least that’s what they tell each other. you’re a spoilt brat, pathetic slut, and dirty whore for purposefully leaving your panties on the floor of art’s dorm whilst staying one night.

you’re completely oblivious to what they think about you, to what they say. furthermore, you have no idea they’re using those panties to rub each other raw while you sleep beside them.

[blushlambs]

https://www.tumblr.com/blushlambs/755107696777265152/more-of-patricks-controversially-young-college

What do you think it’s like when Patrick starts fucking her really rough🤔🤔

(18+) (part 1) (part 2)

we all know patrick’s no saint. sooner or later, he’ll give up treating her so delicately, stop acting like she’s a porcelain doll that’ll break if he’s too rough. he needs more, yearns for it deeply and he’s grown weary of restraining himself. he thinks it's what she deserves for being such a brat recently, throwing tantrums whenever she's not the center of his attention. her newfound selfish, demanding attitude has been wearing on his patience and he knows it's about time she’s reminded of her place. he’s determined to fuck that information into her.

so he teaches her a lesson, has her crying and overstimulated as he teases her tight asshole with the head of his wet cock. “bad girls don’t get their pussies fucked, babe.” he taunts her, his free hand has a deathly grip on her chin. she’s babbling, choking on her words. “mmsorry! i didn’t mean it. i really didn’t mean it, pat. please! i’m so sorry..” the sight of her frightened, pitiful expression is enough to satisfy him. “you’re sorry, huh? then fucking prove it.” the sight of her vulnerable expression, so full of fear and remorse, makes him feel more guilty than he anticipated. still, what kind of grown man allows a bratty little sophomore walk all over him? he knows he has to teach her a lesson.

“i’m a good girl, pat. i promise.”

“then c’mon baby, show me how good you can be. you know actions speak louder than words.”

[blushlambs]

divorced dilf patrick who meets you when you're his waitress at a diner one night <3 he's sad because the divorce was just finalized and custody with his daughter is fucked up but there you are, so sweet. asking if he wants a refill of his coffee. and he talks to you for hours, until he has to go home, it's much too late. he tips you $300, waits in his car to make sure you're safe.

and he comes around more and more. his face lights up when he sees you and he notices how you blush when he asks,

"how are you pretty girl?"

eventually you give him your number. you decide to put the ball in his court. but you're nervous, because it's been days and he hasn't texted or called and you haven't seen him at the diner.

but he messages you late one night. says hi pretty girl.

you shouldn't be this giddy. he's so much older than you.

now, when he comes into the diner, he has you sit down with him when it's slow. he purposely comes later and later to make sure you can. he asks you what clothes you like to wear; he's never seen you in anything but your serving uniform.

so you show him things you like. purses and shoes and dresses. even bikinis that you think are pretty, even though it's february.

and patrick shows up with bags of clothes for you. some are exactly what you showed him, some are things he found cute.

but you don't really cross physical boundaries. there's always been a thick, wobbly wooden table between the two of you. the prying eyes of other patrons and your managers.

but one day you see him out at a local bar. your friends notice patrick looking at you.

you wave to him shyly, sweetly. patrick notices you're wearing these adorable mary janes he bought you. he smiles.

and then he buys you a drink, and then another and another.

and then you're laid on the sink in the shitty bar bathroom, the lights flickering around you as patrick pounds into your wet little pussy, your new shoes dangling off his shoulders. in your fucked out daze you beg him to cum inside you over and over and over and he almost does when your eyes roll back.

but that's how he became a father in the first place.

[blushlambs]

I don't know if you'll do this or not, since it's not Art or Patrick, but Mike Faist. Like just imagine being Mike's controversially young girlfriend and getting to ride his face, with his little goatee and just feeling it, can't stop thinking abt him 😭

ugh the controversially young girlfriend trope will always do it for me. i can just imagine the scandal that would cause, especially if they got caught!!! as much as i would love to write this in more detail, i think morally it wouldn’t be right since mike is a real person <\3 but thank you for the ask, it is much appreciated!!

[blushlambs]

ok munchkins i’m getting through my asks i pinky promise ♡