Dirty Snap Stickers Novels & Stories

I hadn't asked him for money again after that. Instead, I had saved up my own loose change, coin by coin, to buy that pack of glittery star stickers. On the cardboard backing, a sentence was written in faint pencil… When Mom isn't mad anymore, stick these on Leo's medicine bottles so Sophia won't mix them up. Dad gripped the doorframe, his knees buckling as he slowly slid down onto the floorboards. Mom scrambled over, violently snatching the sheet of stickers from his hand.

Fwoosh! Fwoosh! Fwoosh! Stickers of rockets filled the chat on the phone's screen. Harvey looked at the stickers and happily said, "Looks like you can attract quite the attention, Dan! You're almost as popular as a small YouTuber! The rocket sticker is one dollar, I think. There are so many here, meaning you've already earned around 60 dollars by kneeling a minute here! This is so worth it!" "You…" The prideful Dan could feel himself choking. Suddenly, he coughed out a mouthful of blood.

Then, I went back to my parents' house to retrieve my ID documents to handle whatever necessary procedures for going abroad. However, when Mom and Dad opened the door for me and saw me with a suitcase, Dad flew into a massive rage and roared at me, "What is this? How dare you not properly appease Johann and kneel and beg him for his forgiveness!" I retorted defiantly, "I did nothing wrong. Why should I apologize?" Dad then slapped me hard on the cheek. A large, red handprint instantly showed on my face. Dad pointed his finger at my nose while using his other hand to continuously smack my head painfully, yelling, "You useless, good-for-nothing little ingrate!

Not with my bare hands. I opened the drawer again, grabbed a clean tissue, then used the edge of it to push the pink glitter clip into the bag. The little thing slid slowly across the bottom of the box, making almost no sound. When it finally dropped into the ziplock, its glitter caught the light from my desk lamp. Pink. Cheap. Small. Issa’s. I sealed the ziplock tight. Inside the plastic, the clip did not look like a four-year-old’s hair accessory. It looked like a bullet someone had just placed in my palm.

That afternoon, Serena's phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Unknown numbers. Nonstop calls. Her screen lit up with message after message—vile, cruel, endless. She could handle the hate. Barely. But what cut deeper? Her studio was getting dragged with her. Angry users swarmed the company's page: [Fire the homewrecker! What are you waiting for?] [Only trash studios hire mistresses—hope you crash and burn.] [Serena Saun better get on her knees and apologize to Maggie Cheape!]

He stands in one fluid motion with belt clinking loud while zipper rasps down. His cock springs free huge and thick as my wrist with veins pulsing angry while head flares purple and leaks pre-cum in a long, sticky string that drips to the floor. I lick my lips instinctively while pussy clenches empty and aches to be filled. “You want this cock, Dani?” He wraps his hand around the base to stroke slow and twist at the head to milk more pre-cum that beads and falls. “Want your stepson’s dick down your throat?”

I tapped d******d. The app opened with a flicker of red and black, slick and minimalistic. No bios about loving long walks on the beach or being a “dog dad.” Just photos. Blurred faces. Muscles. Skin. Tattoos. Whispers of danger and lust all wrapped into digital foreplay. Pick your poison, baby. The tagline winked at me as I scrolled. Some were too eager. Too cheesy. Too frat boy. Too old. Too young. Nope. Nope. Nope. God, absolutely not.

"Stand guard while I change, please.” It wasn’t Hailey’s fault Dana was a bitch to her, so she would just have to avoid taking it out on her. Slowly, she unbutton her shirt and then she removed it to see that the juice had soaked through her shirt to the inner camisole she wore underneath. Her hair was a mess too. Quickly, she ran her shirt underneath the water at the tap and used the wet spot to clean her hair, making sure to get rid of all the orange pulp, those tiny little things in the juice. She walked to stand under the hand dryer to dry her hair after, surprised it was still working even though people rarely used this bathroom.

Someone else’s humiliation served up for public consumption. “What’s everyone—” Elora started, but I was already moving, pushing through the bodies, my backpack bouncing against my spine. “Excuse me. Move. Move.” They parted reluctantly, some stepping aside with exaggerated courtesy, others making me squeeze past, their eyes followed me. Stickers covered every inch of the metal surface, bright pink, neon green, fluorescent yellow, screaming words in bold block letters: HUNGRY COCK SUCKER CUM DUMP PLEASE DON’T STOP

Her perfume makes my nose itch. Colt clears his throat. "I'll wait outside." "No," I say quickly. "Stay." Lila's smile falters. "Ryker, please. Just one minute. Alone." I sigh. "Fine. One minute." Colt gives me a look that says you're an idiot, then walks away. Lila's smile returns immediately. "Thank you." "What do you want?" "I wanted to apologize." She touches my arm. I pull away. Her hand drops. "For last night. I shouldn't have slapped you."