#control arm bushing

[steves-auto-repair-va]

Drivers typically visit an auto repair shop if they notice a problem, such as leaks, driveability issues, warning lights, or noises.

They will also see a mechanic when it’s time for routine maintenance.

However, your car needs more than just the occasional oil change or a new battery. It also requires flushes, suspension repair, and the replacing of components that wear out from daily use.

If you choose to take care of one or certain parts of your car, you’re only doing a portion of the work. It’s like updating the antivirus on your computer but not performing the Windows updates.

Preventative car maintenance keeps various systems running smoothly and can help travelers avoid unsightly bills.

[psbushings]

Common Misconceptions About Polyurethane Bushings Debunked

When it comes to vehicle suspension and performance upgrades, polyurethane bushings have become increasingly popular. However, despite their benefits, there are many misconceptions about these components. In this blog, we will debunk common myths about polyurethane bushings, focusing on their application in sway bar bushings and rear control arm bushings. Understanding the truth behind these misconceptions can help you make informed decisions about your vehicle’s suspension system.

What Are Polyurethane Bushings?

Polyurethane bushings are a type of suspension component made from a durable and resilient polymer material. Unlike traditional rubber bushings, polyurethane bushings offer enhanced performance characteristics, including improved handling, longevity, and resistance to wear and tear. They are commonly used in various parts of a vehicle's suspension system, including sway bar bushings and rear control arm bushings.

Misconception 1: Polyurethane Bushings Are Too Harsh

One of the most common misconceptions about polyurethane bushings is that they are too harsh and can lead to an uncomfortable ride. This myth likely stems from the fact that polyurethane is a stiffer material than rubber. While it is true that polyurethane bushings can transmit more road vibrations than rubber, this does not necessarily result in an uncomfortable ride.

In reality, the increased stiffness of polyurethane bushings provides better handling and more precise control. For drivers who prioritize performance, especially in sports or off-road vehicles, the trade-off is often worth it. Moreover, modern advancements in polyurethane formulations have led to bushings that offer a balance between stiffness and comfort, mitigating the harshness without compromising performance.

Misconception 2: Polyurethane Bushings Are Noisy

Another prevalent myth is that polyurethane bushings are inherently noisy. Critics often claim that these bushings can produce squeaking or creaking sounds, especially in older or poorly maintained vehicles. While it is true that improper installation or lack of lubrication can lead to noise, this issue is not exclusive to polyurethane bushings.

To prevent noise, it is crucial to use the appropriate type of lubricant during installation. Polyurethane bushings should be installed with a special grease designed for polyurethane materials, which helps reduce friction and eliminate noise. Regular maintenance and reapplication of lubricant as needed can also keep the bushings quiet and performing optimally.

Misconception 3: Polyurethane Bushings Are Difficult to Install

Some vehicle owners shy away from polyurethane bushings because they believe these components are difficult to install. This misconception is often fueled by the assumption that special tools or advanced mechanical skills are required. While it is true that installing polyurethane bushings can be more involved than replacing rubber bushings, the process is not excessively complicated.

Most polyurethane bushing kits come with detailed instructions and all the necessary hardware for installation. Additionally, there are numerous online resources, including videos and forums, that provide step-by-step guidance. With the right tools and a bit of patience, most DIY enthusiasts can successfully install polyurethane bushings. For those who prefer professional assistance, many automotive shops are experienced in working with these components.

Misconception 4: Polyurethane Bushings Do Not Last Long

A common concern is that polyurethane bushings do not offer significant durability and might need frequent replacement. This misconception likely arises from experiences with low-quality products or improper maintenance. In reality, high-quality polyurethane bushings are known for their longevity and resistance to wear and tear.

Polyurethane bushings are more resistant to oil, chemicals, and environmental factors compared to rubber bushings. This makes them ideal for use in various conditions, including harsh off-road environments. When properly maintained, polyurethane bushings can outlast rubber bushings, providing longer-lasting performance and reducing the need for frequent replacements.

Misconception 5: All Polyurethane Bushings Are the Same

Not all polyurethane bushings are created equal, yet some people believe that all products on the market offer the same quality and performance. This misconception can lead to disappointing results if low-quality bushings are chosen based on price alone.

It is essential to select polyurethane bushings from reputable manufacturers known for their high standards and quality control. Researching and reading reviews can help identify the best products for your specific vehicle and application. Investing in high-quality polyurethane bushings ensures optimal performance, durability, and satisfaction.

Misconception 6: Polyurethane Bushings Are Only for Performance Vehicles

Another myth is that polyurethane bushings are only beneficial for performance vehicles and not suitable for everyday cars. While it is true that performance enthusiasts highly value polyurethane bushings for their handling benefits, these components can also provide advantages for daily drivers.

For everyday vehicles, polyurethane bushings can improve ride quality by reducing body roll, enhancing steering response, and increasing overall stability. These benefits contribute to a safer and more enjoyable driving experience. Additionally, the longevity and durability of polyurethane bushings can result in lower maintenance costs over time, making them a worthwhile investment for any vehicle.

Misconception 7: Polyurethane Bushings Do Not Affect Sway Bars

There is a misconception that polyurethane bushings have little to no impact on sway bars and their function. In reality, sway bar bushings made from polyurethane can significantly enhance the performance of the sway bar system.

Sway bars, also known as anti-roll bars, are designed to reduce body roll during cornering. The bushings play a crucial role in the effectiveness of the sway bar by providing a stable mounting point and allowing controlled movement. Polyurethane sway bar bushings offer increased stiffness compared to rubber, which helps maintain the sway bar's effectiveness and improves handling during aggressive driving or off-road conditions.

Misconception 8: Polyurethane Bushings Are Incompatible with Stock Components

Some vehicle owners worry that upgrading to polyurethane bushings will require replacing other stock suspension components, leading to increased costs and complications. This is not necessarily true. Polyurethane bushings are designed to be compatible with most stock components, making them a straightforward upgrade for many vehicles.

In fact, many polyurethane bushing kits are created to be direct replacements for factory rubber bushings. They fit within the existing suspension geometry and do not require additional modifications. This makes them an accessible and cost-effective upgrade for improving your vehicle’s suspension performance without extensive modifications.

Misconception 9: Rear Control Arm Bushings Do Not Benefit from Polyurethane

A specific misconception regarding rear control arm bushings is that polyurethane versions do not provide significant benefits over rubber. This is far from the truth. Rear control arm bushings play a critical role in the suspension system by maintaining the alignment of the wheels and absorbing shocks from the road.

Polyurethane rear control arm bushings offer improved performance by providing better alignment stability and reducing deflection under load. This results in more predictable handling and improved tire contact with the road, which can enhance both performance and safety. Additionally, the increased durability of polyurethane bushings means they will maintain their performance characteristics for a longer period compared to rubber bushings.

Conclusion

Polyurethane bushings are a valuable upgrade for many vehicle suspension systems, offering improved handling, durability, and performance. By debunking common misconceptions about these components, we hope to provide a clearer understanding of their benefits and applications. Whether you're considering sway bar bushings, rear control arm bushings, or other suspension components, polyurethane bushings can enhance your driving experience.

Proper installation and maintenance are key to maximizing the advantages of polyurethane bushings. Choosing high-quality products from reputable manufacturers ensures you get the best performance and longevity. With the right information and approach, upgrading to polyurethane bushings can be a worthwhile investment for both performance enthusiasts and everyday drivers.

[dumbbitchgalore]

Old Man!Price has a thing for pretty little things.

He'd be the type of soldier to randomly pick up a dandelion or random weed flowers, inspecting it closely before crushing it in his calloused palm as if he was not admiring it a moment ago.

And you're no exception.

Pretty and perfect. An invitation for corruption as if you're begging to be ruined, shown no mercy and totally under his control. You're perfect for it, almost too perfect as if reality is playing a cruel trick on him by putting you into his arms. It was too easy, very easy but John doesn’t complain. He knows better than to fuck up a good thing by overthinking. 

John holds your nose closed, stopping you from breathing for a moment. He tsks you at your feeble attempt to take his whole length and currently you are paying the price. Eyes glaciated with struggle, slobbering down his length, your drool dripping onto your tits- a perfect display of submission, compliance. 

“I told you you couldn’t take me all the way but you just had to argue with me, didn’t you?” John says, his voice dark and glazed with authority. 

You let out a pathetic, muffled whimper, your gaze filled with apology and regret. He lets go of your nose allowing you to get a breath of air as you pull away from his cock breathing heavily and babbling a series of ‘I’m sorry’s’. 

John sighs as tears roll down your flushed cheeks.

“I’ll give you one more chance, dollface. Open wide.” 

You part your lips hesitantly, scared of disappointing him. John pushes his leaking cock past your lips, your tongue instinctively darting out to lick the tip, gathering his pre-cum as you savour the taste of his salty goodness. A soft moan of satisfaction leaves your mouth as you try your best to take him fully. 

John shudders, groaning, his eyes screwed shut. Damn it, he didn’t want you to do that, he was gonna end up cumming and at his age, there was no way he could be ready for another around straight after. 

He grips the armrest trying to think of anything else other than his pretty babe sucking his cock so bloody well. 

Ponies… Beer… Shit- No, beer makes me horny… the SAS… military life… my birdie sending me a boudoir album on our first anniversary when I was away- Lake… Lake house… Holiday… Birdie in lingerie… pretty boobs, soft, warm… Wait, no- Ah, fuck…

He gives up as he feels the impending coil about to snap. Grabbing the back of your head, he shoves his whole length in not caring about your comfort. Your nose nuzzles against his dark bush, musky scent engulfing you. John cums, cums so hard that it makes you gag and spill out of your mouth. 

You pull away panting, swallowing what remains of him. Looking up at him, you raise an eyebrow at the sudden loss of John’s control. He laid back, spent and heaving with his arm covering his eyes. 

“Let's go to a lake house, Birdie.”

[duanee30-blog]

How To Diagnose And Replace Bad Control Arms

Worn out bushings and ball joints on control arms can cause undesirable handling conditions. In this article I'll teach you how to find out if your control arms are bad and how to replace them.

Control arms are what connects your wheels to the frame of your vehicle. On most passenger cars, there is a lower control arm in the front of the car, although in some cars, especially sports cars, there can be a lower and an upper control arm on each side. It’s the same thing in the rear. There’s typically only a lower control arm. Rear upper control arms are usually only found in exotic sports…

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 18) tw: minor character death, injuries, and misogynistic language

masterlist

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He’s far off still, the smoking gun held tight in his hand and aimed up at the sky. A warning shot.  

At first, you don’t quite believe it. He appears like a mirage in the distance after wandering through the desert for days, on the brink of starvation. Like a trick of the eye. You squint against the light, sure that you’ve mistaken the familiar felt pinch front hat and the speckled Appaloosa he sits astride for someone else, a stranger come to save you instead of the man you’ve been desperately pining for since Graves stole you from your home. 

But the longer you stare at the man coming towards you, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over his face save for the grim set of his mouth, the harder it is to deny that it really is John. 

Your chest is fit to burst. Heart pumping wildly against your ribcage. The sight of him is revelatory—a burning bush, a stream of light through storm clouds, St Elmo’s fire. The euphoric high is almost overwhelming.

“Son of a bitch,” Graves hisses beneath his breath, hand reaching for the revolver on his belt. 

John is quicker though, firing off another round, this time at the ground between them, alarming Graves enough to make his arm jerk away from his side. Even you yelp. The gunfire cuts your swell of adulation short, bringing you back flush to the surface of the real world again. Graves’ horse scrambles back a few steps, nearly rearing up before Graves gets control of him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, now—” Graves booms, right in your ear, so loud that you wince, curling into yourself. 

The gelding chuffs at John’s approach, unsettled. Graves digs his spurs into the horse’s side when it takes a few nervous steps back, making it whinny in pain. You’d tell him off, but you’ve learned by now to hold your tongue around Graves. He only knows how to impose his authority through pain. 

“Easy, alright—” Graves calls out, holding out the hand not tangled in the reins to show that it’s empty, the revolver still sheathed in its holster. “No one’s gonna do anything stupid.”

The horse John sits astride is the one he never dared to train you on. The one you know would buck you straight off if you tried to hoist yourself up on its saddle. He’s bigger than Buttercup, all muscle and broodsome aura like its owner, and he doesn’t take kindly to strangers. 

When it breathes out, you imagine its breath should smell sulfuric. Fire and brimstone. 

Closer to you now, you can see his eyes under the brim of his hat. He glowers at Graves, the same look you’ve seen only once before, staring through the window of the general store at the scowl carved into his face when he dragged a man across town, but intensified. Not so much as a glimmer of sympathy or understanding in his eyes. Just cold rage. 

The lines in his face are deep from lack of sleep, dark troughs under his eyes. Shoulders stiff; every muscle of his tensed, poised to react. You wonder how long after Graves took you John realized and followed the two of you in pursuit. 

“I’m gonna say this once and you best not try my patience: let the lady go.”

The sound of his voice rumbles through you, making the hair on your arms raise. Seldom have you heard him use that tone of voice, more man than sheriff. 

Graves’ hand tightens on the reins, knuckles going white. You don’t have to look over your shoulder to know that he has the same obsequious look on his face as he did back in town, indignation relegated to his extremities. You can see it in the tensed muscle of his forearms.

“Now Sheriff, you may have the run of this county, but I’ve got the power of the law on my side. The state of New York has issued a warrant for this woman’s arrest.” Graves’ smarmy evocation to the legality of his actions rankles you. He acts like the whole situation is out of his control, that he takes no joy in your apprehension. Simply a matter of duty. 

Not that it seems to make a difference. Even you could tell Graves that. 

“I won’t ask again.” John’s voice is threaded with fury, angrier than you’ve ever heard him speak. 

And true to his words, he doesn’t. The silence stretches between the two men, fraught with tension. Graves is a rigid line at your back. 

He’s the first to break the silence; the first to give. “At least let me show you the warrant, Sheriff,” Graves implores. “I ain’t just some vagrant that’s come and taken the sheriff’s wife without cause—and I assure you, there is cause.”

John doesn’t say a word, blue eyes still severe. Colder than the waters of Cocytus. 

Graves must take his silence as permission because he reaches a hand into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He holds it out to John at first, perhaps expecting the man to come close enough to take it from his hand, but John doesn’t even glance at the hand offering him the arrest warrant, eyes still locked on Graves. 

“See now, I’ll even read it out—” he says, clearing his throat and half turning the paper back to him. “‘Whereas it has been represented to Government that—’”

“Give the letter to my wife,” John cuts him off, gesturing towards the warrant in Graves’ hand with his gun. “She’ll deliver it to me once you’ve handed her over.”

The interruption stuns Graves into silence, the warrant still held in his outstretched arm. He must not be accustomed to men deferring to women instead of him, much less a criminal like you. Your stomach cramps with nerves. The blow to his ego worries you more than John getting his hands on the arrest warrant. His behavior up to this point has been predictable—violent, but unsurprising. You aren’t interested in finding out if losing his temper changes that. 

John’s eyes flick to yours. The first time he’s really looked at you since arriving unannounced, just a quick glance over you to ensure that you’re well. He must not like what he sees because the skin around his eyes tightens. 

The moment of inattention is all Graves needs, eyes trained on it like a hunting dog. John’s eyes barely twitch away to meet yours and Graves draws his gun, his aim wild when he shoots. 

You don’t see what he hits, but the gunfire drives John’s horse into a panic, throwing its head back and rearing up onto its hind legs. Graves fires again and the ground between you explodes, dirt and debris erupting into the air. The horse roars, the sound deep and throaty. 

Graves grabs you by the back of your dress, forcing your back to arch and shoulders to pull back, using you, for all intents and purposes, as a meat shield. You can hear John try to take control of his horse, but it’s near mindless with fear, braying and bucking when Graves fires again, white smoke billowing from the muzzle. Panic seizes you by the throat when John’s horse bucks him right off, bellowing a curse when his body slams to the ground. 

A scream bursts from your throat, but Graves holds you in place before you can slide off the saddle, spitting a tense shut the fuck up into your ear before digging his heel into his horse’s flank and steering him around, beating a hasty retreat. His horse moves in a wide arc until his body is turned back in the direction that Graves was originally heading. 

You struggle against him until the horse moves at a speed too dangerous to chance falling from its back. It covers ground fast, moving at a breakneck speed. 

“Stop—let me down!” you scream, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. The howling wind carries your voice away. 

The violent toing and froing makes it impossible to cast a backward glance and see if John is in pursuit. All of your senses narrow down to what’s in front of you; from the saddle horn digging into your stomach and the air whipping past your face to the feeling of Graves’ breath wafting over the back of your neck as he pants. 

A booming crack fills the air and you scream, fear soaring to an unfathomable height. 

Graves grunts and tenses behind you, his hands spasming around the reins and letting go involuntarily. Then you feel the body behind you slump to the side, his weight almost unbalancing you until he falls off the horse altogether, feet slipping out of the stirrups. 

The blood in your ears masks the sound of his body hitting the ground. Your head whips around to follow the trajectory of Graves’ body, but a wave of vertigo slams into you, a head on collision that forces you to dig your fingers into the horse’s mane and turn your body back around. 

The horse barely notices the body slipping off its back though, tunnel vision on the road ahead. Legs pumping furiously beneath it, kicking up clouds of dust and dirt. You’d have thought the horse would’ve slowed up with the sudden unburdening of the other person astride it, but if anything, it picks up speed. 

You can’t calm down enough to catch your breath; it gallops ahead of you as well, your vision growing spotty with the short, jagged breaths you take in. Lungs collapsing under the weight of your chest. Eyes squinted against the piercing wind. Sunspots brighter than light itself. 

Your instinct is to make yourself small; shield yourself from the impending pain. That inescapable reality rushes towards you as quickly as you race towards it. You’re going to fall. It’s almost certain. You whimper when a particularly rough stride makes you slip an inch to the right, your fingers gripping into the horse’s mane ever tighter, desperate to keep yourself astride.

Someone’s voice breaks through the noise and you open your eyes. 

In your fearstruck state, you almost don’t recognize the man riding beside you and keeping pace until he says your name—your real name—and you snap back to yourself. No time to contemplate your name in his mouth though, no time for anything except keeping from slipping into total panic.

“Pull up on the reins!” John roars over the clamor of hooves. 

You peel your face from the horse’s mane to meet his eyes. The parallel of a memory from long ago. It flashes before your eyes and you remember yourself. Numb hands fisted in the horse’s mane unclench. 

“Pull up!” he shouts again, and this time you comprehend. It’s the same as the time before. 

Summoning every ounce of courage in your bones, you tighten your thighs and belly to lift yourself up, gathering and bridging the reins in your manacled hands. Half halt, release, and half halt again. 

“Good—now circle!” John’s voice booms in your ear and through your blood. 

You flinch when you try to steer your horse into a wide, sweeping turn and he resists at first, but on your second try, he follows your pull, his strides gradually slowing, easing up. When your horse finally comes to a standstill, walking its last few strides before coming to a stop, you sit with that bubble of tension until it bursts. Under your thighs, you can feel your horse’s ribs expand and contract with its labored breath. 

The world blurs for a moment. The adrenaline flooding your body dissipates more with every breath you take, but the crash is just as intense as the rise. You can feel the shakes that wrack your body in a way that your mind can’t quite yet take in, still outside of itself. The first thing you truly register is your husband suddenly at your side, coaxing you down from the horse, your handcuffed hands braced on his chest as he helps you down and then holding on to him when your knees nearly buckle under you.

“Thank Christ,” he growls, pulling you into his chest. 

The smell of tobacco and cloves is woven into the fabric of his shirt and you breathe it in zealously because it’s his. The reassurance that your husband has you, that he’s with you now, and the bad is over, nearly bowls you over. Makes you shake all the harder.

When you finally pull your face away from John’s chest, he cups your cheek with a gunpowder dusted hand, tilting your head up so he can press his lips to your forehead. Your gaze flits up and you stare at him with bleary eyes, wondering what he sees when he looks at you. Messy hair and a fleeting breath that quivers out, breaks to pieces, illuminates the sky when you glance over his head and it’s so blue that you could swim in it. 

John frowns when you accidentally roll your shoulder back and wince. “You’re hurt.” 

There’s no use in lying when he'll find out the truth soon enough, so you just nod. 

“His doing, was it?” he assumes more than asks, inspecting you closely now and noting all the fresh abrasions immediately visible to his eyes.  

Most of your injuries are surface level, more than apparent to him after a quick perusal. A split lip and plenty of scrapes just beginning to scab. You’re too tired to recount the events of the day before though, so you just shrug. Then hiss, the pain so intense that your bones go cold for a split second. 

His forehead pinches with his frown, ghosting his hand over your shoulder as if to hold it in place. “I’ll look at it later, okay, darlin’?”

Every inch of you aches. You wish it could just be over now and you could be back in your bed by sundown, but you know the way home will be just as long. No rest unless you want the journey to be twice as long. The exhaustion alone might have you keel over before night falls. 

Then someone coughs and drags you back into the real world. 

You follow the sound with your eyes until they land on its cause. The crumpled form of the bounty hunter that dragged you out of town lies a quarter mile back. It’s difficult to make out the state of him from so far away, but you can tell it isn’t pretty, mangled and bloody from the fall he took off the horse. 

“Oh God…” you murmur, eyes widening when the man twitches against the grass. 

John’s hand falls away from your cheek. His anger is so palpable that you can feel it fill him back up, blue eyes going steely and jaw tightening as he stares at the man that tried to take you from him. 

“Stay here,” your husband growls, hand reaching down to draw his pistol again.

John leaves you by the horses some distance away as he makes his way over to Graves’ prone form. Blood seeps from a gunshot wound in his shoulder, saturating his shirt and wetting the dirt beneath him, and even from where you stand, you can see the odd angle of his ankle from where he hit the ground. 

With no small amount of effort, Graves props himself up on his good arm, the other hanging limp against the ground. Even the sight makes you wince, bile churning in your stomach. He has to be in tremendous pain. Even John limps a little as he approaches the other man, hip likely sore from his own fall. 

Against your better judgment, and your husband’s command, you take a step towards them. And then another.

You have no reason other than the sinking feeling in your belly. If it were you with the gun, things would be different, you think. You’d do it again, without a second thought. Anything to keep Graves from opening his mouth. 

The gun in John’s hand makes clear his intentions in no uncertain terms. Out on the plains in the middle of nowhere, even taking pity on the man and bringing Graves to the nearest town might not be enough. It’s a rough world out there. Tougher still with a wounded shoulder and sprained ankle. 

More to the matter, John’s face says it all, jaw clenched and lips drawn into a tight line. 

“It doesn’t have to go this way, sheriff,” Graves wheezes when the other man draws close enough to hear. 

“You know I haven’t got a choice now,” John says, gazing up at the sky for a moment before looking back down at the man on the ground. “Not after you laid a hand on my wife.”

Despite the distance, Graves’ voice carries when he speaks. “You think you know that bitch? You don’t know this woman from Eve. What makes you think she won’t butcher you like she did that man back east?”

So casually he says it that you almost miss it. And then you don’t. The words pour over you like a sudden rain and you are back in that room, dread so potent that it chars the flesh, leaving cratered, necrotic holes wherever it touches. The worst moment of your life. 

And Graves says it like a sin of your own making, like it was something you wanted, not a moment in your life haunting you from beyond the grave. 

Your heart stops when your husband looks over at you assessingly. The truth lours over the two of you now, out in the open at last. All those months of hiding it, squandered in a moment by an injured man’s words. All you can do is stare helplessly at the man outlined by the blue sky, the horizon forever etching him into your memory. It’s the first time since you stumbled into the sheriff’s office all those months ago that you haven’t wanted him to think that you weren’t the woman that was supposed to be his wife.

“Shoulda listened to me, sheriff,” Graves laughs, his voice pained and raspy. “That Jezebel needs to answer for what she did.”

You can see it in his eyes that he believes Graves. And why wouldn’t he? The man has committed no crime; spoken not a lie to this point. 

John looks at you in such a strange way though. There’s no surprise there; just a glint in his eye meant only for you. A glint that says darlin’, this ain’t nothin’ new; you never could’ve fooled me. 

He knew your name after all. And you wonder how long he’s known. If he found out sometime in those first days or somewhere down the line or if the arrest warrant fell across his desk in recent days and he knew it would come to this, someone hunting you down across state lines to bring you back. If he knew he’d always have to come after you and rescue you from the jaws of death. 

Everything comes all at once, each moment flashing across your mind barely long enough to leave an impression. Everything is proven immaterial in seconds. 

There’s so much between the two of you. History, obligation, duty. Tenderness shouldn’t even be the half of it, and yet it bears down twice as hard. It’s the only thing that matters when you look at him—not the thought of being dragged back east and forced to stand trial, not the injustice of being made to atone for protecting yourself against a worse fate, but the thought of being taken away from him, of never seeing him again.

You can feel that worry evaporate the longer you hold his gaze. There’s something intentional there, something he is saying without words. 

These days, you do not think to tremble when his hands are on your lips. You tilt your head instead, wait for him to make his next move. Your trust, implicit, underlying everything. Knowing he’ll break the bread and feed you from his hands if need be.

Though you can’t unhinge your jaw enough to ask him to promise that he’ll keep you, his eyes say that it’s a foregone conclusion. How could he ever let you go? You’re everything he’s ever wanted, the only thing even duty could never take from him. 

John looks back down at the man lying at his feet. “Couldn’t help runnin’ your mouth, now could you?”

Graves opens his mouth, but John doesn’t wait for a response. He pulls the trigger.

[nekomanager]

♡— f!reader, rough, deep penetration, creampie

He’s a man always in control of his emotions, but all of it faded when he saw you changing. The flesh of your breasts was spilling out of your bra so delectably that his breathing staggered in tune with the throbbing of his dick. He couldn’t just rein it in anymore.  

Overcame by his need to taste you, he dragged his nose and lips across your shoulder and sucked on your exposed skin. His hands slipped underneath your bra and they felt like fire against your supple tits as he played with your squishy rounds, hands full. Now your pussy felt the insatiable need. Your ass rubbed against his hard-on. Hmmm...Oh, god. You bit your lower-lip. He’s so ready to fuck you hard.  

He knew. He totally knew you’re begging, helplessly needy for him so he smoothed your back, dipping your body down with your hands flat on the mattress and your ass up displayed filthily for him. Tugging your panties down, his cock stiffened even more.  

Fuck! You’re glistening beautifully all for him that he couldn’t help. Your eyes saw stars when he shoved straight into you deep. He rammed inside you relentlessly good no beating around the bush.  

“Can’t! Wait! Anymore!” He grunted with every thrust. And oooh that friction was making your crazy. Your hands balled the sheet of your bed, feeling them tremble as the shivers started crawling under your skin. Between your legs you felt your arousal dripping embarrassingly. His cock kept pumping all the juices out. And you’re weak. Melting. Your arms gave up. Your face flat on the bed. He took hold of your waist and swayed your body wild to meet his pounding.

“You gettin’ there? Are’y gettin’ there?” he huffed, wanting more and more of you. He wanted deeper in you and he knew you wanted it the same too so he knelt one knee on the bed and grabbed you by the elbows. He was getting faster and faster like he was on a race winning in a few laps and he’s holding you like a lever, slamming your body against his in a frenzy. Your mouth just hung open with eyes almost rolling back as you reached your peak, tremors coming in endless waves. “Oh! Ahh!” you cried. The pleasure felt like forever. It might be the longest yet as you quiver in full abandon. And in one swift deep jerk, the tip of his cock hit your womb. His cum painting your insides white while your vision turned blank, eyes closing.  

He held you closely and tenderly, nuzzling on your cheek. Damn. He might be a man in control, but not with you.

kuroo, iwaizumi, ushijima, osamu, reo, rin, kunigami, umemiya, takiishi, hiragi

@pixelcafe-network

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

James Logan Howlett (Wolverine) x Reader

* Includes primal, breeding, and scent kink • Logan’s dick is so big Reader struggles to take it 🫦 • oral sex (f receiving) • fingering • vaginal sex • Logan’s in beast mode but the fluff is definitely fluffing 💗 *

Tears bubbled in the corners of your eyes, your lips pressed into a frustrated pout. “It won’t fit,” you whimpered, your voice trembling in defeat. Logan’s broad shoulders curved over you like a shield, every muscle in his body tensed as he demanded restraint of himself.

In spite of how tightly your cunt was sucking at his tip, Logan knew he had to be gentle with you. If he forced himself any deeper, he’d absolutely cause you pain. And that was the last thing he wanted, especially since this was your first time with him…

It was something Logan had anticipated already. He knew he was big, with a thick girth that matched his length. Despite playing with your pussy through your clothes for the last ten minutes and getting you sopping wet, he was still met with resistance the moment he pushed his tip inside you.

“Shh, it’s okay honey,” Logan soothed you. “S’not your fault, alright?” He eased his hips back slowly, carefully removing his tip from your entrance. Logan swiped the pad of his thumb across your cheek, drying a frustrated tear before it could fall. “A tight little pussy’s nothing to cry about, angel,” he grinned reassuringly down at you, pulling you into his arms. “Just means we need to help her relax a little.”

Logan gently guided your back against the couch, sliding down to his knees beside you. One of his hands slid under your ass and down your left thigh, lifting your leg till it was draped over his broad shoulder. The smell of your cunt was intoxicating, stirring every animal instinct inside Logan that he knew he must keep in check. If he lost control, even for a moment, he might hurt you, or worse.

Logan’s self control was immaculate, a skill he’d been forced to acquire through generations of fucking women who didn’t share his strength, and certainly not his ability to heal from whatever consequences a rough fuck could cause.

“You smell like honey,” Logan murmured, nuzzling his nose into the soft warmth of your inner thigh. He used his fingers to delicately spread your lips apart, watching the slick collected there spread between them. Your scent grew stronger as Logan opened you up for himself, his primal need to claim you testing his sense of control. His eyes honed in on the wet cunt just inches from his mouth, dripping with copious, slippery cum. Logan could smell your fertility, the pheromones emitting from your body sending his animal instinct to breed into overdrive.

Logan nestled his head deeper between your thighs, his nose pressed against your bush. He breathed deeply the delicious cocktail of your sweat and cum gathered inside the coarse hair framing your pussy. Logan’s hands were now at his sides in fists, clenching so hard that his fingernails punctured the skin of his palms. He nuzzled into your bush, drawing another breath of your scent inside his nose. Parting his lips, Logan let his tongue dip between your labia, spreading them apart just as his fingers had before. Your thighs trembled around his head, breathy moans leaving your lips as Logan’s mouth explored you. Your fingers went to his hair, lacing in the thick brown strands and holding him in place.

Logan was in absolute bliss, delving his tongue between your folds, slurping loudly as he ate your cum. The animal inside him was finally being sated, fed well at the meal between your thighs, his teeth sinking ever-so-lightly into the plump pout of your lips, wide tongue padding soft against your clit.

Logan’s fingers joined his tongue, entering you easily as he continued to lap at your clit. Watching him work between your thighs, you felt your climax building. Logan pumped his fingers inside you at a brutal pace, the force of his hand meeting your cunt each time his fingers disappeared inside you making you wince. It hurt so good, too good, a feeling of absolute overwhelm that had fresh tears springing to your eyes. As the pressure inside you gave way to climax, tears cascaded down your burning cheeks, your features contorted in ecstasy. A carnal groan of relief poured from your lips as hot slick gushed over Logan’s tongue. He lapped and sucked your juices like a thirsty animal as they dripped down your thighs, chasing every drop as your cum soaked into the cushion beneath you.

His cock was leaking precum onto the floor, his tip red and aching, every instinct in Logan’s body silently screaming at him to fuck a baby into the nearest fertile womb. He slid your thigh off his shoulder but remained between your legs, rising to kneel on one knee as he tugged your hips forward to meet his. Logan’s face and chest were glistening with cum and sweat. He reached for the back of your neck, holding your head in place so your eyes would be on his when he entered you. You felt Logan’s tip press just inside your entrance, his forehead creasing as he willed himself not to selfishly take you as roughly as he wanted. “Alright, baby?” he asked, his voice a choked groan. You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip as Logan sank three inches inside you.

Your cunt accepted him with minimal resistance, till a slight sting caused you to wince and brought Logan to a pause. “Too much?” he panted down at you, and you quickly replied with a forceful “NO. Keep going Logan, please…”

He was trembling all over, the fight between his care for you and his animal need raging. With extreme effort to be gentle, Logan sank another three inches deeper inside you. The breath in your lungs burst out of you as Logan filled you, his hips stilling as he felt the smooth mound of your cervix against his tip. “Look at you, baby,” he murmured proudly. “Takin’ me so deep…I knew you could.”

Your heart skipped at his praise. Knowing Logan was pleased with you was addictive; you needed more. “I want to make you happy,” you uttered softly, your voice timid and small, needy tears gathering on your lashes. Logan grinned down at you, his voice a heady drug as he assured you “sweetheart, you already have…”

He drew his hips backward slowly, then carefully thrust just once inside you. Your whole body jerked at the impact, your eyes squeezed shut, a breathy gasp punched out of you. Logan pulled back and thrust forward again, growling through his teeth. Your pillowy walls were milking him, his heavy balls aching to be drained, eager to breed the fertile womb his tip was wedged against.

Logan exhaled deeply, the scent of your cunt washing over you on his breath. “Can I get you pregnant?” he asked, his eyes boring deep into yours as his cock rested thick and throbbing inside you. Maybe his question would have been too much from anyone else. It was a request that held massive implications…the consequences unavoidable. But coming from Logan, a request to claim your womb as his was…deliciously tempting.

You nodded, watching the tension in Logan’s face soften as he confirmed your consent. It was all so much, so beautiful, his body over yours and inside you, the security you felt wrapped up in his warmth. Your lips quivered into a confident smile, fresh tears of submission and love trickling down your cheeks. “Fill me up,” you gently begged. “Make me yours, Logan. I already am…”

He closed his eyes a moment, the gnawing hunger inside him ready to tear both of you in half if he gave himself over to it. With his hands firmly clutching your shoulders, Logan leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. A low growl left his lips as he surrendered to his need to breed you. Logan buried his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent as his hips propelled forward. He took you as gently as he could, big hands pressing your shoulders back as you arched against the couch. Your legs wrapped around Logan’s waist, ankles crossing behind his back. He rut his hips into yours, smearing the sweat along his happy trail against your belly. Logan’s cock disappeared inside you, his bush matted with your juices, squelching as your crotches met with each punch of his hips. He stroked you as deeply as you could take him, dragging his heavy cock back and forth within the snug grip of your cunt.

Logan growled your name against your ear as his hips stilled against you, the words on his lips fading into a breathy moan as he emptied his sperm between your walls. A metallic sound issued beside your shoulders where Logan held you. Tilting your head, you saw Logan’s claws extended, burrowed into the couch cushions beneath you. His breath punched from his lungs in bursts, sweat dripping from his forehead onto your tits.

Logan collapsed forward, taking care not to crush you beneath him. He held you close, swallowing you up in the curve of his chest, refusing to let go till he was certain the last of his seed had drained from his tip. Logan carefully removed his softening cock from inside you, a thick stream of semen leaking creamy and white from between your lips. He lifted you into his arms, letting you rest and recover, your ear pressed to his heartbeat. As your breathing slowed, Logan looked down to see you peacefully asleep. He placed a soft kiss in your hair, smiling contentedly, grateful to hold you as long as you rested, allowing Nature to take its course as his sperm made its way to your womb…

[boypied]

FRAT BOY'S SLUT.

pairings: fratboy!chris evans x male reader

summary: chris turned down one of the hottest girls at the party, and the male reader was so proud that he decided to take chris into a private room and give him the sloppiest blowjob ever.

requested by: @amor-xoxo - request

warnings: smut, cocky and arrogant chris, slut shaming, cursing, blow job (r!giving), choking, breeding.

"Hey Chris," some blonde bimbo says seductively to Chris as she reaches out to gently caress his bulging bicep. "I heard you screaming with all your friends and chugging loads of beers, it help me realise the type of man I want." She continues spitting out to Chris while he just stands there staring at her with a huge smirk on his face. You watch from afar seeing how she continues to caress his clothed body, Chris notices you're jealous and decides to play into it.

You see how the stupid slut bites her lip as Chris lifts up his arm and flexes, showing her just how big his biceps truly are. "Wow" is all she can get her out mouth. Chris then starts to smirk more and then grips the hem of his shirt and lifts it up to reveal his perfectly sculpted abs and large pecs. Her eyes widen, and her panties are more than likely a slip n' slide. She pulls out her phone and goes into contacts. "Can I have your number?" She says her tone dripping with excitement.

Chris starts rubbing his beard and watches her face. You begin walking into the kitchen, and he grabs you and wraps his arm around your waist. "Sorry, I have a boyfriend," he says while smirking. "Then why did you flirt back and do all of that!" She says with a very annoyed look on her face, and then her face contorts with rage when Chris shrugs."I like the attention." He says. She lets out a loud scream and storms out of the kitchen.

Your eyes widen as her shriek could've shattered glass, "Sorry about that baby," Chris whispers in your ear. "You're such an asshole, you know that, right?" You whisper back to him as you grip her wrist and take him upstairs into an empty bedroom. Chris smirks, knowing what's coming. "If I'm such an asshole why are you with me?" He says to you with a playful tone, "because I love you... sadly," you say jokingly as you watch how Chris sits down on the edge of the bed and manspreads.

Chris chuckles at your words as he watches you get down on your knees between his thighs and unbuckle his belt, pulling down his jeans and underwear to reveal his thick frat boy cock. "Wow," you mumble out, "I never get used to that," you say almost shyly as a thick red blush spreads across your face as you chuckle nervously leaning forward and wrapping your lips around his tip. Chris leans forward slightly and pulls off his shirt to reveal his gorgeous muscular body that you love so much.

Chris rolls his eyes and grips the back of your head and pushes you all the way down to his thick bush of pubes, your eyes roll back and you gag as his thick cock curves down your throat as you breath in his sweaty bushy pubes. Your eyes water slightly as Chris takes complete control and begins treating your throat as if it was a fleshlight, "fuck! What a slut you are. You should suck me off like this more often you whore!" Chris moans out.

Hearing Chris call you all those dirty words as his cock is buried in your throat is making your cock painfully hard, you swiftly manage to get your jeans off and you start jerking off your cock, you start moaning and whimpering around his length feeling it leak pre-cum all down your throat. Chris fucks your throat harder and harder and you just take it like a good boy, you're a frat boy's slut.

You know how much Chris loves blowjobs so you're gonna be taking notes from this one in particular, Chris releases his grip on your head and lets you take control, you begin to swirl your tongue around his tip and wrap both hands around his length and you begin jerking him off, salt shaker style. Chris groans out in agonising pleasure as he can't hold on any longer, and he shoots his load deep inside your throat.

Your eyes flutter back as you feel his warm seed drip down your throat as you swallow every drop of his delicious seed. You throat your head back off his cock, breathing heavily, "I love you baby" you say softly to him. Chris' cock is still rock hard and he grips your wrists and throws you onto the bed with him. You lay on your side, and Chris lays behind you. He lifts up your leg slightly and rubs his slick wet cum soaked tip against your hole pushing it in.

Your eyes roll back as one of Chris' hands grip onto your throat from behind and he pulls you head back to look at him as he begins to pound into you, your eyes study his face as he pounds into you. "D-DADDY!" You groan out in pleasure as he pumps into you harder and harder "you like that baby, you like that slut" he coos down to you as he chokes you like a dirty little whore.

You whimper as two fingers that were wrapped around your throat slide up into your mouth, his fingers dip into your throat as you suck on them. Chris thrusts into your asshole and begins to become sloppy and sloppier until he shoots his load deep inside your asshole, filling you up with his baby batter. You whimper as your cock shoots it's load hands free just from his dirty words and powerful thrusts.

Chris doesn't stop after you've both finish, he starts pumping into you harder and harder breeding you tight little hole as you grip around his length. He begins to fuck your load filled hole until his cock becomes more and more flaccid and he just pulls out but plugging your hole with two of his fingers making sure his cum doesn't drip out. You whimper in pleasure as he gently kisses your cheek.

"W-We should probably go home" you mumble out to Chris as you feel his fingers dip in deeper into your sensitive asshole. "Yeah, you're right...five minutes" he mumbles out to you as he flips you over and begins passionately kissing you as he holds you close in his arms.

taglist ~ @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @irlsamcarpenter @lucerothings1 @gaefaeyae @dqrkhold @sluttyhusband

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

A Well Deserved Grudge

Summary: You still hate them after their overblot

Notes: GN Yuu. Some based off some stuff from the light novel. Yuu is pretty evil in Jamils. General edginess that comes with angst

Based on this old post abt Yuu with scars

Riddle Rosehearts

A familiar click of heels has you on edge. As they approach you turn around to face him, messing with some of the bandages around your neck from your last encounter. There stood Riddle, his confident stance dropping the second he meets your eyes. 

His usual piercing gaze filled with anxiety as the words he so wanted to say— needed to say— died on his tongue. He's such a coward without a rule book. He's even more cowardly under your scrutiny.

"What?” You deadpan at him and Riddle swallows, looking at the bandages on your neck and arms. He then looks at your face, covered in a few scratches from rose bushes.

“... I… am here to… ” His voice shook toward the end and he took a breath to steady himself. “I'm sorry Yuu. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

You merely raised a brow and fully turned to him. Riddle could see the gash along your neck that peeked through some of the bandages. A grim reminder on how his magic failed during his overblot. The expression you had on your face as the collar around your neck continued to tighten and cut into you haunts him.

“You’re apologizing?” A flicker of determination flashes in Riddle's eyes as he nods. 

“Yes. I know it's not enough but… I'm sorry.” The dullness of your eyes reminds the dormleader that this was far from enough to smooth things over.

“I do not forgive you.” He should have expected that, yet he winces still. What is he supposed to do in this scenario? What else does he say? There is no rule, no guide to what he has done. Deuce and Ace said that he needs to make things right, but how?

“... I understand. If there's anything I can do to earn your forgiveness, please–”

“I don't think there's anything you could do that makes this okay.” Your voice is dull as you pull at the bandages on your neck. “Shouldn't you be in the headmage's office fighting your expulsion?”

It was true. Crowley was to judge whether or not he was to be expelled for his actions. It scared him. “I… I am but–”

“Then go. We both know you won't be kicked out– Crowley doesn't have a backbone and your bitch of a mother will make sure you stay in. You want to ‘earn’ my forgiveness? Stay the hell away from me.” 

Riddle grits his teeth and closes his fist tighter. Emotions of all kinds surge through him. He's confused, he's guilty, he's angry, he's lost. 

Most of all, he's scared. Scared of your gaze, scared of how you hold yourself. Your eyes remind him so much of the ones above him he tries to please and they're boring into him with such disapproval.

“I don't want to see you around, get your shitty tantrums in check. Just because you lose your head doesn't mean others have to. Just go.”

By now you've turned away and started walking off. Riddle could only watch, unable to find the strength to move or say anything. It was probably for the better. He needs to go to the Headmage.

Jamil Viper

He hates this feeling. You have forgiven him, though and through, water under the bridge and he hates it. He hates how you shrug it off. He hates that you don't hate him. He hates this guilt.

He mind controlled you. You. A magicless and defenseless human who was already helping him. You who are in a position so similar to his. You who had no way to fight back. He kidnapped you, keeping you in Scarabia for days regardless of your own plans. If it weren't for your dorm ghosts feeding the fire fairies, Crowley would have cut off your food for the week.

Then he tried to kill you, and had the audacity to be angry at you for it. To add even more salt into the wound you were so kind with him afterwards. You didn’t seem to take it seriously. Take him seriously. Your attitude reminds him so much of Kalim which makes this even worse.

He hates your smile. He hates your attitude. He hates the way you have to walk because of your injuries. He hates seeing glimpses of the wounds on your abdomen from him.

Yet another reminder of his failures. How he hates someone that's not entirely to blame. How he hates someone that's overly nice. He avoids your gaze so often he doesn't notice the glints of satisfaction within it.

Vil Schoenheit

He could only stare at the prefect within the mirror. Their gaze so fixated on themselves and their new appearance they paid no mind to the hospital bed they should be laying in. He wants to lecture them to sit, lay back down and to stop sitting up, but he's sure they would break down if he did.

Blackened veins run along your body, your skin reddened and inflamed in random areas. Even with all the magical remedies the doctors have given you, the black tar like substance runs through you still. “Good going Vil. Really fucked that one up huh?” 

Vil’s eyes met yours in the mirror, he could see your face steel itself before you turned to him. Your eyes stood out against the inky scrawls of venom coursing through you. They were so cold, so angry.

“... I know this is something I may never be able to amend…” Vil starts, taking a breath. Fuck. Years of acting and hard work are lost on him. It is hard to keep strong when seeing how badly your own childishness, your own selfishness hurt someone this badly.

“I want to apologize. I know this is far from enough. I plan to not only cover any costs that may occur in your recovery, but to also offer my support in any way I can during your recovery.” 

Your gaze only hardens. "Bare minimum I guess…” You sniffle a bit as words slur. It was clear you were still inebriated. You weren't going to be the most logical right now, but that's fine. He will say this apology a million times over if it would make it right.

“... If there is anything you need..."

“Go away.” You sniffle again, wiping away tears. “Just leave.” Vil swallows and shuts his eyes for a moment. “I understand.” 

As he turns to leave the drugs in your system really start to kick in. “You… You really are a villain.” The words come out crude and harsh, no doubt you are speaking to hurt him. Yet as you turned away he could see your face in the mirror.

Scared. You were scared of him. You were scared and truly believed in what you were saying. And you weren't wrong. He is a villian.

Malleus Draconia

A mighty dragon places his glass heart in the hands of a human without their knowledge, and is enraged when the human breaks it. Except here Malleus broke it himself to protect himself from the possibility of the human hurting him first. Now he holds the shards of what's left and sees them stained not by his blood, but by yours.

A position he put onto you, his only friend. He does not even know if he has the right to call you that anymore. Not after his little stunt. Children of men do not deserve to be locked away in the dark, no matter how beautiful you were in it. They were to be free. Even if it hurt him. You and him could have been free together.

He looks at your expression. It still holds no fear, no anxiety, just as foolishly brave you were when he first met you. Instead it holds disappointment. Such a pathetic emotion that he would smite off anyone else if it wasn't you. 

“... You're really selfish, you know that?” You mutter and look away from him, as if not wanting to believe the words coming out of your own mouth. “Were we really friends or was I just some doll to you? Some obsession?”

A sniffle. “I wanted to be your friend…” Malleus hasn't the words to respond. He can only open his mouth then close it. “I know. I'm sorry. You made me so happy I wanted you all to myself. It's not an excuse, but when I thought I would be losing you, it was too much for me. I made… A very rash decision.”

There's silence. More deafening than the silence at his birthday parties growing up. “Is there any possibility you could forgive me?” It was a daring question, one he was afraid to know the answer to. 

“... I don't know, Tsuno. I think… I think I need some time to think about it.” You turn away from him and his heart sinks, the pet name does nothing to soothe his nerves.

He remembers all the times he's told you how his kind are born cruel and you would tell him that his actions have shown just how kind he could be. That him learning to be nice and overcoming his nature is more meaningful than anyone who was born that way. 

And he ruined that. He may not be able to choose his nature but he can choose his actions. He chose to hurt you.

[steves-auto-repair-va]

We performed suspension work on a Honda Pilot. One of the lower control arm bushings was torn almost all the way through.

The lower control arm supports the primary load on certain vehicles. If you don’t have a bushing, you’re going to hear and feel a large impact. 

Eventually, that rubber deteriorates, which can lead to more movement and impact the wheel alignment. It could also affect ride comfort, create noise and become a safety issue.

If you are hearing abnormal sounds or noticed any changes to how your vehicle travels down the road, reach out to your auto repair shop.

[psbushings]

Beyond the Curve: Elevating Handling with Front Control Arm Bushings

In the realm of automotive performance and handling, even the smallest components can make a significant difference. Front control arm bushings, often overlooked, play a critical role in ensuring smooth steering, precise handling, and overall driving experience. In this comprehensive guide, we delve into the world of front control arm bushings, exploring their importance, benefits, and the impact they have on elevating handling beyond the curve. Additionally, we'll take a closer look at the advantages of polyurethane bushings and the role of steering rack bushings in optimizing vehicle control.

Understanding Front Control Arm Bushings:

Front control arm bushings serve as vital components in the suspension system, connecting the control arms to the chassis of the vehicle. Their primary function is to provide cushioning and flexibility while absorbing road imperfections, vibrations, and shocks. By doing so, they help maintain proper alignment and stability, ensuring that the wheels remain firmly planted on the road surface.

The Importance of Quality Bushings:

Quality front control arm bushings are essential for several reasons. Firstly, they contribute to improved steering response, allowing for more precise control and maneuverability, especially during cornering and lane changes. Secondly, they help reduce noise, vibration, and harshness (NVH), resulting in a smoother and quieter ride for occupants. Moreover, they play a crucial role in minimizing tire wear and preserving suspension geometry, ultimately extending the lifespan of other suspension components.

Advantages of Polyurethane Bushings:

Polyurethane bushings have gained popularity among automotive enthusiasts and performance-oriented drivers due to their superior qualities. Unlike traditional rubber bushings, polyurethane bushings offer increased stiffness and resistance to deformation, translating to enhanced steering feel and feedback. Additionally, they exhibit greater durability and resilience, making them ideal for high-performance applications and demanding driving conditions. Polyurethane bushings also have the advantage of being more resistant to oil, grease, and other automotive fluids, ensuring long-term reliability and performance.

Elevating Handling Performance:

Upgrading to high-quality front control arm bushings can have a transformative effect on handling performance. By replacing worn-out or degraded bushings with polyurethane alternatives, drivers can experience sharper turn-in, reduced body roll, and improved cornering grip. The increased stiffness of polyurethane bushings minimizes flex and deflection, allowing for more precise steering input and better feedback from the road. As a result, drivers can navigate curves and twists with confidence, pushing the limits of their vehicle's capabilities while maintaining control and stability.

The Role of Steering Rack Bushings:

In addition to front control arm bushings, steering rack bushings also play a crucial role in optimizing handling and responsiveness. Steering rack bushings secure the steering rack to the chassis, helping to minimize unwanted movement and play in the steering system. By reducing flex and vibrations, steering rack bushings enhance steering precision and feedback, translating driver inputs more directly into vehicle response. This results in a more connected and engaging driving experience, particularly during spirited driving or performance-oriented maneuvers.

Installation and Maintenance:

Installing front control arm bushings and steering rack bushings requires careful attention to detail and proper technique. While some enthusiasts may choose to tackle the installation themselves, it's essential to have the necessary tools and knowledge to ensure a successful outcome. Alternatively, professional installation by experienced technicians can provide peace of mind and guarantee optimal performance.

Once installed, regular inspection and maintenance of front control arm bushings and steering rack bushings are recommended to ensure continued performance and reliability. This includes checking for signs of wear, such as cracking, tearing, or excessive movement, and replacing bushings as needed. Additionally, applying lubrication to polyurethane bushings can help prevent squeaks and prolong their lifespan.

Conclusion:

Front control arm bushings are integral components of the suspension system, with a significant impact on vehicle handling and performance. By upgrading to high-quality polyurethane bushings and ensuring proper installation and maintenance, drivers can elevate their handling capabilities beyond the curve. Combined with steering rack bushings, these components work in harmony to provide precise steering, improved responsiveness, and enhanced driving enjoyment. Whether navigating tight corners on a winding road or pushing the limits on the track, front control arm bushings play a crucial role in unlocking the full potential of any vehicle's suspension system.

[viridescentelf]

Humain à l’eau - Yandere Priest x Reader

helloooo! the character and FANTASTIC ART of Micah belongs to @meo-eiru I sent this to her in an ask before, but wanted to post it for new peeps and added some more sparkle (smut lol)

this guy TERRIFIES me and why is that hot lol what's wrong with me?

(pls remember that this is fiction and i do not condone this behavior at alllllllllll, in real life i would beat the shit out of him easily lol)

WARNINGS: 18+, general nsfw, dub-con, non-con, toxic behavior, intimidation, trapping, dom-sub dynamic

Word Count: 1k

-----

“I know what you’ve been doing…”, your voice attempted to emulate confidence, but the priest’s presence pulsated eerily around you. His towering form hovered dangerously above you, as you attempted to stand your ground.

“Oh? You do?”, Micah’s voice remained collected, his hands hiding in his sleeves. You couldn’t see how intensely his fingers were gripping into each other. Seeing you always made him woozy. The permanent smile etched across his visage, as he tilted his head slightly.

“Illuminate me. What have you surmised, Y/N?”, the silky tone invaded your ears. He had been doing many things, which were you referencing?

“That stuff you’ve been giving me. You’ve been lacing it with something. Everything…fogs and I wake up knowing you-“

The sudden appearance of his dark eyes piercing through the light lashes made you freeze. The voids halted any form of strength you previously mustered. Your body quaked. Surely, he could see how harshly your legs were trembling.

“My, my…”

He moved forward slowly, cornering you in the prickly rose bushes he tended to. You thought about trying to push him aside, but your limbs were so weak you could barely stand. Additionally, you feared what he would do if you attempted an escape.

“What a fascinating theory…” He lowered his face down to you, the dead eyes almost level with your own.

“A harsh accusation. Why would I do such a thing when…”

The pale arm slid out from his sleeve. His icy hand trailed up your neck, settling on your cheek and gripping the side of your face. The priest pulled your face harshly towards his own, his lips locking into yours as he pushed his tongue violently into your mouth. Your own tried to retreat back into your throat, to no avail. No matter how much you winced, Micah’s hold on your face was firm. The more you resisted, the harder his grip and kiss became.

He released from you, as you gasped for breath, tears stinging your eyes. Micah leered, triumphantly.

“…I can have what I want without such methods.”

Your lip quivered. The priest still held your face in place, remaining close to you. Your suspicions confirmed, you were now trapped. You had been careless: you shouldn’t have confronted him alone.

“You will join me in my office. Such slander needs to be punished appropriately.”

Micah released his hold on your face and put his hand on your back, steering you towards the church. Your body obeyed, sinking deeper into permanent panic and your limbs ignoring your internal screams to bolt.

Micah smiled to himself, feeling the tremble in your vibrating spine.

If breaking you was the way to keep you, he would do so with ease.

The dark eyes stared down at you, as he guided you to his office door.

-----

Your back faced the door. The thud of it made the hair on the back on your neck twitch. The peaceful jingling of a set of keys juxtaposed with the harsh thrust into the keyhole, while the clanging of the old lock reverberated in your spine.

You shouldn’t have confronted him. Especially not alone.

“Now,” Micah’s voice remained steady and patient, as you heard it grow slightly louder while he turned towards you. “What shall we do with you?”

You daren’t turn around. You tried to stifle your anxious gulp, but you couldn’t control its tremoring volume. You felt like you were miles away in a deep, uncanny ocean and you were barely holding yourself over water.

He approached you slowly. Every step of his caused your breathing to quicken slightly more. You couldn’t know what would happen in here, with the doors locked and any cry for help reaching no one. Everyone was outside doing chores. You were alone. With him. The shark circling you, while you're doomed to sink.

You couldn’t really tell if he was angry or if he just liked playing with his meal.

His pace quickened suddenly and you felt his right hand swoop under your arm, grabbing your chin from behind, while his left wrapped around your waist. He pressed himself into you, while forcing your head back. It wasn’t a knife stabbing your lower back, but it frightened you just as much.

You were met with lifeless, famished eyes and an ungodly smile. Predator finding prey, after months of fasting.

“I think an endurance lesson will do the trick. A fair punishment for your … accusation.” As he spoke, his index finger dug into your cheek. “You will give your all in this, won’t you, darling?”

You felt your head nod, betraying your instincts.

His smile grew, making his eyes squint slightly. But the voids kept you in his focus.

All you can do now is sink with him.

Unblinking, he started unbuttoning your blouse. Before you knew it, the miniscule protection you had draped down your shoulders.

Micah's cold, long fingers traced up your soft belly and lingered on your exposed sternum. His hand pivoted there, seemingly unable to decide which direction to go next. It made your skin shiver all over and you let out an involuntary moan.

You hated how much his indecision activated something in you. It felt so wrong, but the priest had this aura that made him both terrifying and exceptionally alluring. Despite your mind screaming to run away, you body was disloyal to your morals.

His right hand still held your head back, forcing you to stare at his hungry face that enjoyed the view a bit too much. Towering over you, he tilted his head as your anticipation grew.

"What's this? Adding impatience to the list, are we?" You could feel how much he was loving your body's reaction, but his voice remained collected.

While speaking, his hand barely grazed your right breast. You shuddered, half from his freezing touch and half from suppressed desire.

You didn't know how, but his smile grew even bigger than before.

"Repentance requires patience."

The priest's face lowered down to yours, you felt yourself sink deeper into the depths, his teeth pulling you down with him. His hand finally grabbed your breast fully, squeezing it harshly.

"My greatest virtue and vice in one."

[arcanefox207]

The Warden.

GameWarden!Joel Miller x F!Reader Explicit 18+ MDNI | 3.8k WC | AO3

Summary: Your hike into the woods doesn’t go as planned when a depraved Game Warden catches you breaking the rules.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Power imbalance. DUBCON (could be considered NONCON). Reader is into it but she still doesn't have a choice. Reader is smaller than Joel and has hair he can grab. Explicit smut. Oral (male receiving). Fingering. Violence. Manipulation. Unprotected P in V. Cum talk. Creampies. Dark!Joel.

Notes: Please read the warnings. HUGE thanks to @joelmillerisapunk for beta'ing (love you, Odi!) Also FYI Game Wardens (also sometimes known as conservation / wildlife / DNR officer) can have broader authority than police and can even search your person / property without a warrant, are expert marksmen and usually work alone.

M A S T E R L I S T | A O 3 | N O T I F S

You saw the sign and ignored it, like you always did, as you walked down your favorite hiking trail. The one that few people knew about. The trail that was always peaceful and quiet and you rarely met another soul. Your hidden secret that you loved to escape to. The one that had been marked as “Trail Closed” for months now for reasons you could never quite figure out.  

As the forest thinned you finally reached the majestic bounty you sought. A quaint pond, nestled in the pines. The waters edge pebbled with rocks and ferns. Water lilies sparsely decorated the surface. What once was a sprawling picnic destination was now overgrown. Serene and abandoned to nature.  

You knelt down and ran your hands over the stones, picking up and admiring their unique beauty of the ones that caught your eye.

You were so preoccupied taking in the comforts of the world around you that you never heard him. Never even considered there were eyes on you, watching you from behind some overgrowth.

“Excuse me, miss,” his voice startles you as you stand quickly and turn around. “You’re in violation of State Park rules and regulations.”

“Huh?” Your words come out sounding dumb and caught off guard. You quickly scan for the source of the voice and see some movement in the bushes, revealing a man. 

He walks towards you, emerging from his hiding spot. A tall and broad man, head to toe in the standard olive green uniform that the wardens wore. A tactical belt and vest and a scoped rifle slung on his back. His toned physique mesmerizes you with each step forward.    

“It’s my sworn duty to enforce the law and enact justice as I see fit.” His words were robotic and rehearsed. 

As he got closer you could see he was an older man and incredibly handsome with some greys in his beard along his jawline. His hair was shorter with wavy curls, pushed back neatly with some silver catching in the sunlight. His skin weathered by the sun. His aquiline nose made his face look even more intense and powerful, matching his words. Broody and serious. This was a man who was in control.

“And you’re trespassing,” he lowers his voice, “in my territory.” 

You were trespassing. He wasn’t wrong. You felt your body flush with a wave of panic, with a hint of arousal crawling somewhere deep inside you. Lurking and waiting with intrigue and fear.  

“Area’s posted.” he says as he now stands in front of you. You are at a loss for words, caught doing what you thought was harmless.

He senses your panic and it rallies him to toy with you. 

“This is a protected wildlife conservation that you’re messin’ with, sweetheart.” He pauses and changes his tone to intimidate you as he leans in close. “And you see, I don’t like that.” 

You feel your heart race. Were you actually getting in trouble for taking an innocent hike in the woods?

“You know who I am?” He crosses his arms in front of his chest while he waits for you to speak. His veiny, chiseled forearms distract you. He looks so scrappy and dangerous. 

“The Game Warden?” You hesitate.

“That's right.” he nods with a cunning smirk. “Name’s Joel, but you’re gonna call me Sir.” He enunciates it firmly.

You feel your body overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. You were scared but also felt a pulsing go through you when he spoke. You didn’t want him to be upset with you. Everything about him was screaming: dangerous, do not piss off.  

“I’m sorry about trespassing. I didn’t know… Sir.” You added his title for good measure.

But you did know. You knew every time you walked past the sign at the entrance telling you not to. Bullshit was not going to fly here and only fueled him more. 

“Lying to an officer too?” He shakes his head as it hangs low. He circles you with intimidation, looking you up and down. Lecturing you with silence and waiting for your reparations to be determined.  

You can’t fight off that lukewarm feeling inside you that grows warmer. Slowly it gnaws away at your resolve. Seeing him with the tactical vest on that snuggly accented his chest and left his belly exposed with nothing but his green shirt covering it. The only spot that was vulnerable and soft. The rest of his body was strong, protected by his excessive gear, lean muscles and mean looks.   

You see his name badge embroidered with ‘MILLER’ and accidentally whisper his name out loud like it's a question. Wondering who this man is and what his intentions are. In the peaceful calm of the woods in the middle of nowhere, your whisper may have well been a shout.

“Officer Miller.” He corrects with authority in his tone as he leans over you. “And I’m gonna have to discipline that mouth of yours.”

You’ve never been in trouble with the law before, and certainly never had a run in with a Game Warden. You knew they were essentially lone wilderness cops with a god complex and few restrictions. Still, you knew this was far from acceptable behavior. Everything about how he was acting was wrong. You open your mouth to protest, but hesitate on his threats. He relishes in how you work it out in your head that talking back isn’t going to get you out of this. You can only bite your tongue so long.

“I’ll report you.” You threaten back, acting like you have some moral upper hand to hang over him. 

“Go ahead. Ain’t nothing you can do about your situation right now, sugar plum.” He scoffs. “Not to mention, s’your word against mine.” He stops circling and leans into your ear as his southern drawl makes the words sound smooth and buttery. Hot and melting on his breath as they drip out of his mouth. 

“Wanna take a guess who wins?” He says deviously and you can feel his patchy beard scrape against your jaw as he pulls away. A shiver pulses through you, right down to your pussy. Beating to his unsought touch. 

Why is this turning you on so much?

“You see darlin’, I’ve been watching you for a long, long time.” He circles again. “And you keep breaking the rules.”

Your heart races. This was getting serious. The realization hits that he can do whatever he wants and get away with it, and that is exactly his intention.

“On your knees, and hands where I can see ‘em.” he barks. 

You obey, folding under his commands. Hoping your obedience would lessen the blow. 

You drop down gently unsure of what exactly he was playing at, treating you like a violent criminal. You stretch your arms out to your sides with your palms up in submission. He stops just in front of you, scooching down so he is eye level. A tiny grunt as his knees bend. Tobacco and leather scents accompany him. 

“I’ll let you off with a warning… if you promise me you won’t be doing it again.” He offers. Sweet words coming out slow and sticky like honey.  

“I won’t. I promise. It won’t happen again.” You quickly plead. Foolishly hopeful this was it. Ignoring the conditional implication of his terms.   

He stands back up with his arms crossed before raking one of his hands through his hair, thinking. He wasn’t buying what you were selling. 

He paces in front of you. The obscene bulge in his pants was impossible not to notice as he parades it past your sightline. Back and forth, back and forth. He was packing more than just a firearm. 

He stops directly in front of you so your eyes are mere inches from it. You look all the way down to his feet in an attempt to hide the red that flushes your face. Trying to dismiss your own arousal that was getting louder and wetter. 

He reaches down to your chin and cranes your neck up to look at him with an urgency. 

“Gonna’ need some convincing, sugar plum.”

Fuck...

He releases you and walks to the nearby weathered picnic table and lays his rifle down. He unsnaps his utility belt that was strapped over his waist and leg and tosses it along with his handgun in tow. It made his broad shoulders look even wider with his waist unhindered by the bulky gear.

The uppercase “WARDEN” embroidered on the back of his green tactical vest serves to remind you that he is an officer of the law. It taunts you as he takes his sweet time laying out his things neatly on the table while you wait with anticipation for whatever was happening next.  

As he turns to walk back towards you, snatched in his vest, he tries to conceal the smirk pulling up from the corner of his mouth. You hate how good he looked, as if it could ever excuse how disgusting he was behaving.  

He stands coolly just a foot in front of you and unbuckles the modest leather belt. The metal clasps clank loudly as he lets it hang down and unzips. He clocks your reaction as he pulls up his shirt enough to show his messy thatch of hair trailing down his lower belly.   

He can’t be serious… 

Reaching a hand inside his boxers he pulls them down slowly as his cock peeks out. Big and fat and leaking. Aching to be touched. 

He is serious.

His eyes are focused intently on yours, watching them widen as you take in his cock. It's just in front of your nose as you look up and sit back on your haunches.

“Go on,” he growls and lowers his voice. “Convince me.”

He reaches his hand around his cock and pumps it. The broad head glistening in his precum as he drags his hand down his shaft. You wonder how long he had been watching you and if he had been stroking himself before he approached you. Maybe this interrogation was all foreplay for him. In fact, you were certain it was.   

The hot feeling surging in your core surprises you. You were actually turned on by this pig. Still, you knew this was beyond fucked up. You hesitate with what to do next, conflicted by his abuse of power and the inappropriate way your body was betraying you.     

“You gonna disobey a warden?” He threatens, getting impatient. 

You wonder what if you refused? What if you didn’t play his game? What would he actually do? It still didn’t feel like there was an option other than what was right in front of you, demanding your obedience. 

This was only ending one way. His way. 

“No, sir.” You swallow and fight back the tears. You place your palms and claw your fingers into his thighs as you sit up straight. You start to open your mouth and look up at him with glossy eyes. Conceding to him. 

You catch that spark of darkness igniting in his eyes. Burning hot and formidable as it spreads through him. Your misfortune was making him harder.

He parts your mouth open with the tip resting on your bottom lip. He teases it in and out, letting you feel the weight as the ridge catches on your lip. 

God he was big.

“Give it a kiss first and be real polite.” 

You close your lips over the tip and appease him with your gentle touch. Polite even. You suckle it delicately, drawing out beads of saltiness as it drips onto your taste buds. You can’t stop your natural impulse to flick his slit with your tongue and it makes him stiffen even more, twitching in response.

“Good girl.” he praises as he tangles his free hand in your hair. You wince as his firm grip pulls you closer to him. He pushes into your mouth. Inch by inch. The hand on his cock held it steady until you were adjusted to his size. He lets go and slides his hand above your nape, letting you take the full weight of his cock as you hollow your cheeks.

He was so thick. 

You decide to give him something he wants without asking, attempting to entice him to be kinder. His roughness was starting to hurt when he pulled at your hair and dug into your skin. Relaxing your mouth he pushed further in without your protest. Nestled tight in your warm and wet paradise. You notice his urgency shift.  

“Nice and slow. No need to rush.” He commands as you take him deeper. This order sounds more like it's for himself so he doesn’t cum too early. You can feel how close he is. He was ready to burst the moment you dropped to your knees. 

You gag as the head hits the back of your throat.   

“Oh, you sound pretty like that.” He moans as he closes his eyes and leans his head back. “Choking on my cock.” He makes a guttural sound as he nudges his cock even deeper into your throat. He was impossibly large as he fights to stuff you full.  

“Hold still.” He fucks into your mouth. Harder. Harder. Harder. Pulling your hair too tight and pushing your head too far onto him as he bucked into you.

With tears in your eyes making your nose run you can hardly breathe. Gasping and choking  and a cock stuffed in your mouth, bruising your throat with each plunge.

He snarls as he looks down to you, locking eyes. Blown out. Feral. Dark and desperate like he was giving in to his wildest, forbidden desires with no regard for you. It was a selfish need he was taking for himself and only himself. You were nothing. A wet hole for his cock to fuck.  

He was coming undone. His moaning and panting echoing across the serene pondscape and tainting your safe escape forever. Even that memory he was taking from you. 

You were waiting for it. Bracing for his hot spend to pour into you but instead he slowed. Thrusting deep into you with a grunt before dragging out his wet, dripping cock. He winced as it popped out of your mouth and you gasped for air.

This sick fuck was edging himself. 

He wanted more. Needed more. 

“Get up.” His haggard, breathy words bite at you.

He lifts you up by your hair. You quickly comply to relieve the pressure on your scalp as you stumble to your feet. A whine escapes you as he lets go roughly. 

“Gonna make sure you learn your lesson today.” He gestures to the picnic table just a few steps away and you shamefully go to it. 

He pushes you to lean over the bench and bends you in an ‘L’ shape. You press your arms against the seat to hold yourself up. He drags his hand down your back and around to your hips, admiring your delicate form laid out before him. He wanted to lose himself inside you.

He drags a hand between your legs and feels your cunt hot and wet against your shorts. He lets out a growl as his fingers get soaked along your seam. 

You hate how good it feels to have him touch you where you ache for friction.

“Mmm…” he groaned as he breathed in your arousal on his fingertips. “Knew you wanted this cock inside you.” He ruts his hardness against your ass. 

He slides his hands over your back. Over your hips. Down the sides of your legs until he stops abruptly. Fingering at something jagged in your pocket. Something you forgot was there. 

“What's this?” 

Your heart stops. You can tell from his tone that he knew exactly what it was.

He slips his hand in your pocket and pulls out two shiny stones you had collected from the waters edge.

Fuck.   

“Caught stealing from the cookie jar.” He clicks his tongue to scold you. He was stacking his case with further evidence to hang over your head.

“Oh, Darlin.” He fakes a sympathetic tone. “You’re in big trouble now.”

It was then you realized he knew all along. He was watching your every move. He was waiting for the right moment to manipulate you to his will. 

“Bad girl. Larceny is gonna cost you more than just an apology.” He drops the rocks carelessly and grabs your waistband, pulling your shorts and panties down to your ankles in one motion. You gasp as he makes you step out of them as he pushes you forward so your knees are on the bench seat. You catch yourself on the edge of the table. Half naked, exposed and totally fucked. 

“Spread 'em nice and wide for me.” He knocks your legs apart with his knee as he stands behind you, his cock notched against your entrance and it sparks an adrenaline surge inside you when you feel his tip press into you. 

“Please!” You beg him. “Please stop. I’m not letting you fuck me!” You spit out with an attitude. This was a line too far. A line he was intentionally pushing to see how far he could go before you fought back. 

Unsurprising to you, he liked playing with fire.  

He reaches out and grabs your neck with his wide grip, roughly pinning you prone against the table so you can’t move. He leans over, and hovers low to your ear as his shaft drags against your seam. 

“Ain’t making you do nothing, sugar plum.” He pauses and breathes in the sweet scent of your shampoo as he prods you gently with his nose. Tantric and hungry with his movements. 

“I can take you now and then we’ll be done with it, or I can take you in. S’your choice.” He loosens up his grip on your neck and sits back slightly. He feels the way you tremble under his touch, and the way your cunt throbs against his heat still pressing against it.

You feel it too. Something you can’t explain. A primal feeling of desire. Surrendering to your most basic human needs. That having him inside you might not be so bad. A rationalizing in your brain that you did wrong after all. It’s only sex. 

Only sex. You’ve certainly done worse with lesser men under the guise of alcohol. 

“I can promise you, they won’t be nearly this forgivin’ at the state prison.” He traces his finger down your spine, being delicate and gentle. Tracing until his finger runs into his belly pushed flush against you. He leans back and grabs his cock. Painfully hard and still soaked from earlier. He presses the head right against your swollen clit and rubs it against you. 

You let out a moan and he knows he has you.  

“Tell me you don’t want this. That you don’t want to cum all over my cock.” He strokes your clit with his head again and again. Knocking at your door and waiting for you to answer. 

“I’ll make it real good for you, sugar plum.” Your clit pulses on his cock. Needy and hedonic. Forsaking any restraint you have left to say no.

You take a deep breath and curse under your breath, curling your fingers around the edge of the table as you sit up and face forward.

“Get on with it.” You concede. 

He smiles wickedly. He was always going to get what he wanted in the end.

With you still sitting on your knees he locks his body against yours, his feet planted firmly on the ground. He pulls you up so your back is flush with his chest and wraps a hand around the front of you, rubbing and pinching at your clit with his rough fingers and dipping them into your hole. Spreading your slick. Stretching you open as he scissors his fingers.    

His body against yours was so much bigger. Broad and strong. You were the mouse and he was the lion about to pounce. His heat piercing through your skin. You felt him line up at your entrance, nudging you with his tip. 

There is no more patience or preparation. He needs to fuck you now. Needs to have that friction choking his cock that has been rock solid for too long. Without warning he thrusts into you again and again and again. Each time a little deeper and harder. His fat head catching on all your ridges as your pussy grabbed onto him.

It felt so fucking good and you hate it. You hate him.  

He stretches you more than you’ve ever felt before. The initial pain subsides as he rubs your clit fiercely with his fingers. The pleasure inside you builds. He kept his word that he would make it real good for you.  

He puts his leg up on the bench for leverage and bottoms out inside you with a grunt as he pulls you down on his cock. Fucking up into you and impaling you with his cock.   

Your moans run away from you, loudly filling the air with obscenities. You feel your climax building up inside you. You’ve never been fucked so hard in your life and you are soaking him. You know he won’t last much longer.

“Please..” you beg him between moans. 

“Please what?” he snarls as he fucks you harder, his cock ready to spill. 

“Please... Sir. Pull out,” you beg him.

He laughs at your ridiculous request and ignores you, wrapping his arms around you to pull you hard against his body. One hand wrapped around and splayed over your belly and the other curled around your breasts and pushing on the front of your throat. He had you held so tightly to him there was no way you could stop him. 

Your climax tears through you. 

“Carry in… Carry out.” He recites the most basic of park rules between grunts while you brace for it. “Leave nothing behind.”

He releases into you. His hot cum coating your deepest walls as he empties into your cunt with the loudest orgasm. He pushes you down prone and fucks it deep inside you before he starts to soften, making sure you know he was deliberately filling you up with his seed.

He collapses on you and you breathe together for a moment. He leaves an unexpected kiss on your shoulder and another on your neck, silently thanking you for letting him use your body. 

“Next time pay attention to the game cams, sugar plum.” he nods up at a nearby tree and he gives a side smile. Mocking your mistake. 

He withdraws his cock from you and lets you fall forward, his cum already running down your legs. He eyes your mess with a smirk, pleased with his conquest. 

“I’m always watching.” He says with a wink.

Tagging some cool people that I love very much and fellow Joel Hole comrades (please note if it’s too dark for your taste it’s totally ok to skip!)

@magpiepills @for-a-longlongtime @milla-frenchy @itwasntimethatdidit40 @youandmeand5bucks

@toxicanonymity @wethairjoel @evolnoomym @almostfoxglove @beardedjoel

@aurorawritestoescape @hellishjoel @lotusbxtch @murder-wife @joelstummy

@pearlessance @pedropeach @tonysopranosrobe @sawymredfox @macfrog

@slimybeth69 @whocaresstillthelouvre @joelsdagger @baronessvonglitter @covetyou

@chronically-ghosted @skbeaumont @yourcoolauntie @yopossum @beefrobeefcal

@sp00kymulderr @moonlitbirdie @wheresarizona @syd-djarin @punkshort

@sin-djarin @guiltyasdave @strang3lov3 @frannyzooey @tightjeansjavi

@cavillscurls @gasolinerainbowpuddles @pedgito @survivingandenduring

@ozarkthedog @mountainsandmayhem @schnarfer @pedrospatch @penvisions

[duanee30-blog]

How To Diagnose And Replace Bad Control Arms

Worn out bushings and ball joints on control arms can cause undesirable handling conditions. In this article I'll teach you how to find out if your control arms are bad and how to replace them.

Control arms are what connects your wheels to the frame of your vehicle. On most passenger cars, there is a lower control arm in the front of the car, although in some cars, especially sports cars, there can be a lower and an upper control arm on each side. It’s the same thing in the rear. There’s typically only a lower control arm. Rear upper control arms are usually only found in exotic sports…

[witchesverse]

my happiness is all of your misery

pairing: dark!agathario x fem!reader

summary: you hadn't seen your kidnappers in centuries, but of course, you just had to be summoned right to them.

content: noncon, mentions of physical/mental/sexual abuse, mentions of suicide, manipulation, mentions of death, pain (slapping), spitting, praise, HEAVY TOPICS, crying, fingering (r receiving), blood licking, kidnapping, orgasm control/ruining, cum eating.

a/n: just pretend the others don't exist on the witches road pls. only agatha and rio here.

masterlist

"Oh, I mean. No complaints from me."

Your skin crawled at the sound of a voice you hadn't heard in centuries. Agatha Harkness.

You felt like you would be sick at the sound of the second voice.

"Interesting."

Rio Vidal.

Without a second thought, you were on your feet and sprinting away from them. You dodged through trees and bushes, cursing when you heard footsteps following.

It had been centuries since you last saw the pair, and you wanted to get far away from them.

When you first met them, you were dead. Death had come to reap your soul but she didn't. She resurrected you and kept you as her pet. You met Agatha a few weeks after that.

They were awful and cruel owners. Your body never healed, even after you escaped. You hated thinking about what they did to you. But you hated even more that you loved them for it.

Rio slammed into you and sent you flying to the ground. She buried her hand in your hair and sat on your stomach, pinning your arms down with her legs.

"You can't run from us, idiot." She laughed her wicked laugh. "We're on the Witches' Road."

Agatha appeared by her side.

"Let me die, please." You begged.

"I'd never let you die," Rio whispered.

You sniffled. She had never let you die. Multiple times you had killed yourself to end their torture but she brought you back each time. Your death doesn't exist when Death does.

Her lips connected with yours and you hated how perfectly they morphed together. Her hand drifted down to your pants and you made a noise of discomfort.

She hushed you and tugged your pants down enough to reveal your panties to her. She ignored cries as she pushed them to the side and collected your slick on two fingers.

"All we've done is kiss and you're already wet. Looks like someone missed me." Rio grinned.

"I hate you."

Rio and Agatha rolled their eyes in sync. Their synchronisation was something you always loved about them.

Agatha crouched next to you. She lovingly caressed your cheek with a small smile. Then the smile was replaced by an angered frown and she slapped you.

"We gave you everything and you left us for two centuries. You're such an ungrateful little bitch." She snarled.

You flinched. The pain from her slap was somewhat comforting.

"I hate you. I hate you both." You fought against Rio's hold. "I wish you both would die. You don't deserve to live."

"That's ironic telling Death that you wish she was dead," Rio said.

Agatha grabbed your jaw and squeezed until it dropped open. You cringed as her spit hit your tongue, but held it obediently until she told you to swallow.

"Good girl. It looks like you haven't forgotten your training after all this time."

You wanted to roll your eyes and snap back the question about how you could forget their training. It was still so drilled into your mind that you caught yourself still acting how they trained you to act even when they weren't there.

Tears prickled in your eyes as Rio pushed a single finger inside of you and pumped a slow, steady pace. You kept eye contact with Agatha, afraid she would get angry if you looked away.

"You should know that crying doesn't get you anywhere," Agatha said, wiping your tears away with her thumb.

"I can't control it," You meekly replied.

They laughed.

Rio added two more fingers, stretching you out perfectly. Your walls clenched around her fingers and you whimpered from the pain. Her thumb pressed against your clit and you squirmed in her hold.

Agatha pulled Rio into a heated kiss. There was a small fight for dominance that Agatha won. When they pulled apart, you saw that Rio's lip was bleeding. Agatha cupped her jaw and licked the blood away.

Your whimper pulled their attention to you.

"Feeling left out, huh?" Rio asked.

Her thumb rubbed circles on your clit and she pumped her fingers faster. She curled her fingers upwards and pressed against your g-spot.

The familiar feeling started to build in your stomach.

You bit your tongue. You weren't going to beg, not this time.

"Don't get fucking bratty." Rio snapped. "Beg for it."

You ignored Rio.

"Come on, sweetheart." Agatha cooed.

You ignored Agatha, too.

Rio ripped her fingers from you and slapped your cunt, making you cry out. She stood and licked her fingers clean, disappointment painted on her face.

Your ruined orgasm made you want to cry.

"Get up." She said in a monotone voice. "We have a road to walk."

You pulled your pants up and cringed at the uncomfortable wet feeling as you scrambled to your feet.

"And don't you dare think you're going to escape." Agatha shoved you towards Rio, who was walking ahead. Agatha walked behind you, keeping you caged between them.

You stifled a sob.

You would never be free from them. They owned you and you couldn't do anything about it.

All you can do is accept it.

[plathfiles]

Felix catton x reader where oliver is being really weird towards reader and felix is protective

gah this sounds excellent! thank you for the request!

pairing: felix catton x fem!reader

warnings: spoilers!!! bit of an au, language and light nsfw, stalking, obsession. one use of y/n

————————————————————————

It was your first summer at Saltburn and you and Felix were attached at the hip.

Reading together by the poolside, you were curled up to his chest and reading the Harry Potter book that was passed around the entire group that summer. Felix had just finished it and now it was your turn.

Felix was reading a book that you had recommended to him — “The Secret History” by Donna Tart. Getting board with reading, you sat yourself up. A groan escaped Felix’s lips and you smiled. “Just going for a swim, care to join?” You asked, turning to him.

He seemed tempted, but he couldn’t put his book down. You just had that good of taste. “Maybe after I finish this chapter love,” he said. You nodded and made your way to the pool.

A moment later and out of thin air, Oliver appeared next to you. Oliver was quite jealous of the fact Felix had invited both of you to Saltburn. He wanted Felix to himself but Felix couldn’t keep his eyes away from you.

“I can see you both love each other very much,” Oliver says slowly and calculated. He turns his head to meet your gaze and there is a glimmer in his eyes.

“We do,” you confirm, a smile creeping onto your face. You blushed.

“I can hear you in the next room,” Oliver said, making his way towards you. “I see how he fucks you and how much control he has over you,” he said, getting only slightly closer.

You back away, looking at him with some confusion. ‘Why would he watch you and Felix?’

“Felix and I’s relationship is none of your business Oliver,” you retorted, snappily.

Before Oliver could respond, Felix cannonball’s into the pool. Swimming over to you, he slides his arms around your waist.

“What are you talking about?” Felix asked, a slight bit aggressive. Then Oliver replied. “Oh nothing, just my party,” he shrugged lying, swimming away from the both of you.

You let it be, too stunned to speak.

Later that night, you and Felix had snuck away after dinner. You two were in the labyrinth, Felix’s hands pulling at your waist. His lips trailing kisses down your neck leaving love bites and little marks as he went.

“Felix,” you giggled, his touch soft but still tickling.

“What?” He smiled teasingly, moving a hand to brush some hair from your face. You both made eye contact. Felix was much taller than yourself and you enjoyed how he towered over you. He brushed some hair from your face and leaned into kiss you.

But you backed away in fright, from the corner of your eyes you could see someone in the bushes.

Felix grew concerned, having never seen you like this.

“Whats wrong?” Felix asked.

You saw a figure near a hedge, the person looked small and angry. You looked back to Felix. “It’s Oliver,” you whispered, hoping he would believe you.

Felix saw your frightened eyes and got up from on top of you. “Oliver?” He shouted to the dark.

You saw now that no one was there.

Felix turned to you, “Are you okay? Because no one was there,” he said, concerned.

You shook your head, standing up. “No I’m not alright. I just saw Oliver watching us, right after he told me today that he stalks us,” you said, tears forming in your eyes.

“Do you not believe me?” You asked Felix.

Felix came up to you and embraced you in a soft hug. “I believe you,” he said. “He lied about his family. I’m not sure what to do.” Felix added.

“He lied about his family?” You asked, growing more concerned. “He’s a psychopath,” you said, pulling away from Felix.

“I won’t let him hurt you,” Felix said, protectively. “I’ll get mum to throw him out right after the party tomorrow night,” he said.

You nodded, “stay by my side,” you said. Felix took your hand and kissed your forehead, “I won’t let him near you.”

The next night at the party, you were dressed as a nymph. There was glitter in your hair and on your cheeks. You wore an old silky night gown, which Felix said he couldn’t wait to take off later.

Felix had kept his word and stayed next to you the whole night. Elsbeth and Sir James loved the look of you two, enjoying yourselves and having fun.

You didn’t see Oliver anywhere and wondered where he could be lurking.

Towards the end of the night, Felix wanted to get you back to his bedroom. On the way up the stairs, you ran into Oliver.

Felix went infront of you, he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Not from this lying creep. “Go away Oliver,” he said strongly.

“I wanted to explain myself,” he said, sounding drunk.

“We don’t want your explanations,” Felix replied. “You lied to me and my family. And then you admitted to stalking me and y/n,” he said.

Oliver came closer, “I just wanted to be your friend. One of the group.” He said pathetically.

Felix went to move past Oliver, you following behind. As you went passed Oliver he tried to grab you and Felix turned to punch him in the face.

“Don’t touch her!” Felix yelled, causing some faces, including the Catton family and Farleigh to see.

Oliver in his drunken state missed a couple steps and fell. Not terribly injured he propped himself up. He was gone from Saltburn the following morning.