#dog health screening

[animalhospitalga2-blog]

Dog Wellness Check from Veterinarian

Ensuring your dog’s health is a priority for every pet owner, and a wellness check with a veterinarian is one of the best ways to stay ahead of potential issues. These check-ups go beyond just vaccinations, offering a full assessment of your dog’s overall well-being. From monitoring weight and dental health to checking for any signs of discomfort or disease, regular wellness visits can help catch problems early, keeping your furry friend happy and active for years to come. Whether you’re adopting a new pet or simply ensuring your companion stays in tip-top shape, scheduling a dog wellness check is an essential step in maintaining a long and healthy life for your dog.

Our Animal Hospital Veterinary Services in Canton, Ga

Comprehensive Canine Health Assessment

A dog wellness check from a veterinarian provides a thorough evaluation of your pet’s overall health. During the check, vital signs such as heart rate, temperature, and respiration are monitored, while the veterinarian also examines the skin, coat, eyes, ears, and teeth. This helps detect early signs of illness, ensuring your dog remains in optimal health and can enjoy a happy life.

Preventative Care Recommendations for Dogs

Your veterinarian will assess your dog’s health and offer tailored preventative care recommendations during a wellness check. This may include updating vaccinations, suggesting parasite prevention treatments, or adjusting diet and exercise plans. Regular check-ups are essential to prevent health issues and give your dog the best chance at a long, healthy life.

Dog Behavior and Activity Assessment

A wellness check isn’t just about physical health; it also includes a behavioral and activity assessment. The veterinarian looks for changes in your dog’s behavior, energy levels, and overall mood, which may indicate underlying issues such as discomfort or stress. Early detection allows for better management and treatment to maintain your pet’s well-being.

Senior Dog Wellness

As dogs age, they face new health challenges. Senior dog wellness checks are more focused, involving blood tests, joint examinations, and monitoring for age-related conditions such as arthritis, heart disease, or kidney problems. Regular visits ensure that your senior dog receives the proper care and attention to live a comfortable, happy life well into their later years.

The Importance of Regular Dog Wellness Check-Ups

Regular wellness check-ups are essential for maintaining your dog’s health and preventing issues before they become serious. Just like humans, dogs can develop health problems that may not show visible signs early on. A wellness check helps your veterinarian catch issues like dental disease, joint problems, or heart conditions in their early stages. These visits also ensure your dog’s vaccinations are up to date, offering protection from various diseases. Preventative care is key to ensuring a long, healthy life for your dog.

Routine wellness checks allow you to discuss any behavioral changes, diet, or lifestyle concerns with your vet. These visits provide an opportunity for expert advice on everything from nutrition to exercise routines. By staying on top of regular check-ups, you’ll ensure your dog’s well-being and give them the best chance for a healthy future.

What to Expect During Your Dog’s Wellness Visit

A typical wellness visit to the vet involves a thorough examination of your dog’s overall health. The veterinarian will check their weight, temperature, and heart rate, ensuring that everything is within the healthy range. They will also examine your dog’s coat, skin, eyes, ears, and teeth for any signs of abnormalities. If your dog is due for vaccinations, this will be the perfect time to ensure they’re up to date. Blood work and fecal tests may be recommended to check for parasites or underlying health issues.

The vet will ask about your dog’s lifestyle, including diet, exercise habits, and any behavioral changes you’ve noticed. This conversation allows the vet to understand your dog’s unique needs better and offer tailored advice. It’s important to be honest about any concerns you may have to ensure the wellness visit is as effective as possible in maintaining your dog’s health.

Key Canine Health Indicators Your Veterinarian Monitors

During your dog’s wellness check, your veterinarian will monitor several key health indicators to assess their overall well-being. These include weight and body condition, as being overweight or underweight can lead to a variety of health problems. Your vet will also check your dog’s heart rate, temperature, and respiration to ensure they’re functioning normally. An assessment of the skin and coat can reveal signs of allergies, infections, or parasites, while an eye and ear exam can help detect common issues such as infections or hearing problems.

Dental health is another crucial aspect that’s often overlooked by dog owners. During the wellness visit, the vet will check for signs of gum disease, tooth decay, or other dental problems. Routine checks of these health indicators allow your vet to provide early treatment, which can significantly improve your dog’s quality of life. By monitoring these key areas, you’ll ensure that your pet remains in optimal health.

How Dog Wellness Checks Can Prevent Future Health Issues

Preventative care is one of the greatest benefits of regular wellness checks for your dog. By addressing potential health concerns early, you can avoid costly treatments and complications down the road. For example, routine blood work may identify kidney or liver issues before they cause noticeable symptoms, enabling early intervention that can extend your dog’s life. Regular check-ups also help prevent parasites such as fleas, ticks, and worms, which can lead to more severe health issues if left untreated.

Additionally, a wellness visit allows for a proactive approach to vaccination schedules. Ensuring your dog is up to date with vaccinations protects them from preventable diseases like parvovirus, rabies, and distemper. The veterinarian may also provide advice on maintaining a healthy diet and exercise routine, helping prevent obesity, joint problems, and other chronic conditions. By investing in wellness checks, you’re investing in your dog’s long-term health and happiness.

Signs Your Dog Might Need a Wellness Check Sooner

While annual wellness checks are recommended, there are certain signs that may indicate your dog needs to see the vet sooner. If your dog is showing signs of lethargy, loss of appetite, or unusual weight loss, it’s important to schedule an appointment right away. Changes in behavior, such as increased aggression or anxiety, can also signal underlying health concerns that need attention. Other signs to watch for include vomiting, diarrhea, coughing, or difficulty breathing, as these could point to more serious health issues.

If your dog is showing signs of discomfort, such as limping, avoiding physical activity, or whining when touched, it could indicate joint or muscle problems that need prompt attention. Ear infections or unusual discharge from the eyes can also be signs of an infection or underlying condition. Early intervention for these symptoms can help prevent more serious issues and improve your dog’s quality of life.

Choosing the Right Veterinarian for Your Dog’s Wellness Care

Choosing the right veterinarian is essential to ensuring your dog receives the best care during their wellness visits. Look for a vet who is knowledgeable, compassionate, and takes the time to listen to your concerns. It’s important to choose a clinic that offers comprehensive services, including preventative care, emergency care, and diagnostic testing. You want a vet who is up to date with the latest medical advances and who offers a warm, caring environment for your dog.

Consider the location and accessibility of the veterinary clinic as well. You may need to make frequent visits for vaccinations, tests, or follow-up appointments, so a conveniently located vet can make life easier. Don’t be afraid to ask questions about the vet’s experience and approach to dog wellness care. Building a relationship with a trusted veterinarian ensures that your dog will always receive top-notch care.

Cherokee Animal Hospital in Canton, Georgia

Regular wellness checks are essential for ensuring your dog lives a long, healthy life. These check-ups help catch potential health issues early, preventing serious conditions from developing. From vaccinations to dental care and overall physical exams, a wellness visit is the best way to stay ahead of your dog’s health needs. By building a relationship with a trusted veterinarian, you’ll gain valuable insights into your dog’s specific needs and receive tailored advice for their well-being.

Don’t wait for signs of illness—schedule a wellness check today. A proactive approach to your dog’s health can lead to fewer visits to the vet in the future and a happier, healthier life for your furry friend. Contact us now to book an appointment.

Cherokee Animal Hospital

2424 Marietta Hwy, Canton, GA 30114

770-479-6505

Facebook

YouTube

X

Instagram

LinkedIn

Yelp

Google

[fjordfolk]

there's something to be said about this trend of doing prelim hip screening on very young dogs and freaking out when they look kinda meh

there's a whole bunch of other somethings to be said about vets apparently bringing up FHO as an option based on those prelims??

[sforzesco]

Ascanio Maria Sforza: la parabola politica di un cardinale-principe del Rinascimento, Marco Pellegrini/ Lodovico il Moro duca di Milano che con Beatrice sua moglie ed il cardinale Ascanio suo fratello, visitano Leonardo da Vinci occupato a dipingere il famoso Cenacolo, Cherubino Cornienti / Letter of Ascanio Sforza to Ludovico il Moro, 18 April 1497 (as recorded in Ludovico il Moro's Visit to the Abbey of Chiaravelle in 1487: A Report to Ascanio Sforza, Edward E. Lowinsky)

fraternal pietas! or something!

[artyphex]

It looks like I MIGHT be getting a job and the first thing I do is go look at dog information and check the breeders I selected awhile ago to make sure they’re still up and running because a job means moving out and moving out means DOG

Dog…………

[pebblezone]

🫡🏳️‍⚧️

[pomeraniandancer]

The only thing I'd add to this is that I don't think cats are the largest invasive species in the world...that dubious prize goes to the humans.

I've been seeing a lot of Discourse around outdoor cats that talks past one of the biggest problems addressing community cats/outdoor working cats so I thought I'd chime in with my two cents.

Many arguments I see just... don't think about the cats at all? Or don't consider the logistics of actually addressing the feral cat problem in a humane way. It's always about how outdoor cats shouldn't be outdoors, which is neither realistic nor helpful.

I used to volunteer at an municipal animal shelter in the USA that had a TNR program (Trap, Neuter, Return) and also adopted out community cats to local farms and businesses. Here's my side of the story.

"Your cat doesn't need to be outside" -- Yes, correct. Your domesticated (non-feral) house cat does not need to go outside at all. They can have a fully actualized life safely indoors. When I see this argument, proponents of indoor only cats are correct in most or all their arguments regarding this.

"Outdoor cats are the largest invasive species in the world, and decimate bird populations." -- This is also correct, and part of the reason why you can help by bringing your house cat indoors. Cats are the largest invasive species. Spay and Neuter your cats, bring them inside, and socialize them so they don't become feral.

"TNR doesn't work." -- False. Whether we like it or not, feral cats exist. We have two methods by which we can address the feral cat population -- decimating them (humanely euthanizing the whole colony) or TNR. For a long time, euthanasia was the preferred way to address the feral cat problem. Afterall, if the cats aren't there, doesn't that save the local wildlife population?

Except that we found, studying these colonies, that when a colony is wiped out, the cats of another colony will spread into their territory and continue to have kittens and the population of feral cats is neither controlled nor diminished.

Hence, TNR. What we found performing TNR on cat colonies was that this controlled the population of the colonies, allowing them to stay in their territory, which kept other colonies from spreading (especially colonies we hadn't performed TNR on yet). We at the shelter felt this was the most humane way to control the feral cat population and safely deflate their existence without dealing with the population blooms that euthanasia caused.

"What about kittens?" -- Kittens from these colonies were brought into the shelter, socialized, and fostered out until they could be adopted. Some of these semi-feral kittens needed special homes to be adopted into, but this was the best quality of life for these cats.

"What about cats that get missed during TNR?" -- We would return to the colony several times over a period of several years to perform TNR on the same colony. We mark cats that have been neutered by clipping their ear (this is done humanely, but is the most reliable way to tell if a cat has been neutered so the poor thing doesn't have to have surgery 3-4 times in their life). Also, during the TNR process the cats would be vaccinated to ensure disease did not spread from the colony (i.e. rabies). Still, even getting 60% of the colony TNR'd would dramatically reduce the number of kittens being added to the colony each year. This controlled the population by allowing the territory to naturally deflate in size over time, buying us time to address the larger feral cat problem.

"What if the colony was in an unsafe location?" -- There were two ways we addressed unsafe colony locations -- remember, we know that when the colony is removed, a new colony will move into its place, so we tried not to move the colony unless we really felt the cats or the public was unsafe -- one was to move the whole colony to a new location. Preferably someplace like a warehouse where we have an agreement with the owners of the warehouse. Some of the cats were even relocated to shelter grounds as our community cats. If the colony was small enough we would bring them into our Feral Cats room and adopt them out as community cats.

"What is a community cat?" -- The way the program worked, was that anyone who needed a working cat could apply to the program. These were often rural farmers or businesses with warehouses that needed rodent protection. We trained the farmers and businesses on how to acclimatize the cats to their new home, and as part of the agreement, they had to care for the cats (veterinary care, vaccinations, food and water). This gave businesses and farms an alternative to expensive and environmentally unfriendly rodent control, and also gave these feral cats good places to live out their natural lives.

"Can't you just adopt out feral cats?" -- No. Cats that have not been socialized around humans as kittens, or who have several generations of feral cat in them could not interact with humans in a way that did not cause them undue stress. This was not a humane way to handle feral cats. However, when a cat was brought into the feral cat room, they would be monitored for up to a week. If the cat displayed signs of being semi-social or fully social (hanging out outside of their den, allowing staff to pet them, showing interest in staff in the room), then we would either move the cat into the adoption room or place them in foster to be socialized before adoption. Feral cats who displayed signs of being able to live full and healthy lives with human companions were NOT adopted out as community cats. We also observed this behavior during TNRs and would do the same for those cats too.

"But aren't cats bad hunters?" -- Compared to other species, cats are not the most effective form of rodent control. This is true. However, you have to understand that feral cats exist. There is no "undo" button we can push to stop them from existing. We have to deal with the problem we have right now, which is to safely and humanely decrease the number of feral cats in our communities. And yes, we do that by using cats as rodent control in the community.

"What can I do?" -- Stop saying community cats shouldn't exist. That's not helpful and doesn't solve the problem we have. Bring your cat indoors. Spay and neuter your cats. Adopt from shelters. Volunteer with a TNR team. Support TNR efforts in your community. Recognize that those of us actively dealing with the community/feral problem are trying to do what is in the best interest of our communities and the animals we love. We aren't sitting over here saying these cats should exist -- a feral cat will not have the same quality of life as one that is indoors with a family -- but we have to address the problem in practical terms. We don't have the moral high ground to just do nothing while pontificating solutions that have no basis in actuality.

And yes, it's okay to celebrate community cats. If your local farm has a couple of working cats, that means that farm is helping participate in the safe deflation of the feral cat population. Don't shame a farm or business for using community cats. We're all doing the best we can to solve the problem that we have.

[puppys-rhythm-heaven]

me using this blog as my main is funny to me like. i'm not even really hyperfixated on rhythm heaven rn gfgffgggggfgfd-

[cloudtransprncy]

wyd?

IVE Yujin x Male Reader | 8094 words Tags: Exes, Car Sex, Rough & Messy, Face Riding, Overstimulation, Ass Teasing.

Six months apart, and it’s always the same—one text, three letters: wyd? You could pretend it doesn’t matter, but when it comes to Yujin, you never resist.

You're mid-round in Marvel Rivals, playing as a tiny shark that blows bubbles to heal your team. Ducking behind cover, you wait for your cooldowns to refresh while your boys call out plays and hurl mild insults in your ear. Just another night, same as always.

Then your phone buzzes. Once. Then again.

You ignore it at first, barely glancing. But something makes you check. Yujin.

wyd?

You sit back in your chair, staring at the screen. The game noise fades. You’re still, quiet enough that your homies notice. You could ignore it. Maybe you should.

It’s always her reaching out first. Always her making the move.

And you? You just… wait. Maybe that was the problem in the first place.

“Yo! Where’s my heals?” one of your friends yells as he gets mauled by Venom.

Another beat. Then you move.

“Bro, don’t tell me—”

“Man, again?”

“We’re really gonna lose our healer to his ex.”

“You know she does this on purpose, right?”

Laughter. Some exasperation. Someone sighs, everyone already know how this ends.

Your hands hover over the keyboard. The cursor blinks. Your team is mid-fight, and Jeff is already out of bubbles. Someone’s health bar is flashing red.

Another buzz.

You exhale, slow.

Then, without a word, you click out of the game, disconnect from the call, and push back from your desk.

You move through the next steps without thinking. It’s muscle memory at this point. Shower, cologne, fingers through your hair. You grab the basket from your closet—pillows, blankets, washed. You don’t need to check; you always make sure they’re clean.

It’s routine. The same every time.

For a moment, you pause. The hesitation is brief, barely even there, but it exists.

You know exactly how this night will go. How it always goes. She texts, you come. And after?

You don’t think about that part.

Your fingers tighten around your keys. You could still stay home.. 

Maybe this time, you don’t go. Maybe this time, you just say— "I'm tired. Cant."

The words come back too fast, too easy. The way she got mad. The way it escalated. How a stupid thing turned into six months of this.

Then your phone buzzes again.

You grab your keys.

The drive to Yujin’s place is always the same. The same route, the same practiced motions . If she ever thought you weren’t around enough, then why does it feel like every street in this city leads back to her?

Three days together. Then one missed night. That’s all it took?

The afternoon sun filters through the windshield of your mom’s SUV, the sun glaring against your eyes. The city blurs past, the same roads, the same turns. And every time, you think about it—why did you even break up in the first place? It felt dumb then. It still feels dumb now.

Maybe if you had just texted first, or if you had just said the thing she was waiting to hear, you wouldn’t be here six months later, pretending this was still casual.

You pull up in front of Yujin’s house, engine idling, the warmth of the afternoon settling over the quiet neighborhood.

The sun hits the pavement, the air thick with that mid-day stillness.

That same familiar house—its windows dim, the curtains drawn, the driveway exactly as you remember it. You stare at it for a moment, the weight of memory settling in. Then, the front door creaks open, just enough for her to slip through.

She moves carefully, pausing to nudge the door shut with her foot so her dog doesn’t slip past. A practiced motion. Something second nature by now. She scans the street, spotting your car. No reaction, just a small exhale.

She’s wearing a fitted pastel pink long sleeve that rides up just enough to show a sliver of her midriff and loose grey sweatpants, the fabric pooling over her Crocs. Her hair falls naturally past her shoulders, a few loose strands framing her face. Glasses rest on the bridge of her nose, slightly oversized, making her look softer in the afternoon light.

Effortless.

Casual.

Like she didn’t think twice before stepping out. Phone in hand, she walks down the driveway.

She slides into the passenger seat without a word. The door clicks shut, sealing you both inside the familiar silence.

Her fragrance fills the car instantly—lychee, rose, vanilla, and something undeniably summer. It lingers in the air, familiar, the kind that sticks to your clothes, your skin, something you used to know too well.

Without thinking, you reach over and pull her seatbelt across her, clicking it into place. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react—it’s rehearsed, something that no longer needs permission. Her fragrance lingers in the small space between you, sweet and warm, and for a second, it’s like nothing has changed. She exhales softly, a quiet hum, her usual way of saying thanks.

Your eyes meet for half a second. No greetings. No small talk. Just routine. She shifts, tucking one leg up onto the seat, sitting cross-legged like she always does, settling in like she never left. It’s unconscious, effortless, like muscle memory. You don’t say anything, but you notice.

Before you even reach for the gear shift, she leans forward, grabbing your phone from the dash.

Without hesitation, she unlocks it—still remembers your password. A flick through Spotify, a song queued like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

She leans back, satisfied, as the opening notes play. The sunlight slants through the windshield, catching on her features as you ease onto the road. The city hums around you, strip malls and quiet residential streets stretching under the afternoon sky.

The air between you is thick, filled with everything unspoken.

Six months since the breakup. Countless times in this same car.

The silence is comfortable. Or maybe just necessary. Either way, you don’t break it.

The drive is automatic, familiar. The streets, the turns, the stretch of road leading up to the overlook—it all blends together, like a loop you’ve never broken. The city fades behind you, the afternoon sun casting long shadows over quiet streets, and ahead, the ocean stretches out, shimmering under the golden light.

The ocean stretches out before you, endless and bright, the water catching the sun’s soft haze. The sky, still blue, deepens with hints of orange, the afternoon slipping into something softer.

You step out just long enough to fold the seats down. Neither of you speak. You don’t need to. The ocean breeze rushes in as soon as the doors open—salty, heavy, wrapping around you. The seats creak, metal clicking into place. Blankets rustle as you spread them out, fabric settling into familiar folds.

And then you’re inside again, the doors shut, the world locked out. Blankets and pillows surround you, cushioning the space you’ve built in the back of your mom’s SUV. A makeshift bed, one you’ve laid out too many times to count.

Yujin exhales beside you, sitting cross-legged, her glasses now set aside, forgotten. One hand scrolls through her phone while the other idly toys with the hem of her sleeve. The soft tapping of her long nails against the screen is steady, rhythmic, filling the quiet between you. You watch her for a second longer than you should, something restless curling in your stomach.

Then she moves.

No hesitation. No preamble. She swings a leg over you, her crocs slipping off in the process, leaving her in just her socks. Her phone falls somewhere beside her, forgotten. Her hands find your shoulders, sliding down your chest, fingers curling into fabric. Her nails, cool against your skin even through your shirt.

She kisses you first. Hungry, teasing, her lips parting just enough to make you chase, to make you want. As she deepens it, her hips shift, her weight pressing against you. She’s already shimmying out of her sweatpants, lifting her hips just enough to kick them aside. Her long sleeve is still on, her legs now bare, her body pressing closer. Your hands slide down, resting against the curve of her bare ass, her skin warm under your touch. Everything shifts—heat rising, breath hitching, hands gripping skin, fabric pulling.

"You always let me do this," she murmurs against your lips, breathless but smug. "So easy for me." Another kiss, deeper this time, her teeth catching your bottom lip before she pulls back, just enough to look at you.

"What if I stopped reaching out?" she taunts, her fingers trailing up your chest. "You’d never text me first, would you?"

Her nails scrape lightly down your torso, fingers catching on fabric. She tugs at your shirt, not pulling it off yet—just toying with it, teasing. "No one fucks you like I do."

Her fingers slip beneath your shirt, nails grazing over your stomach before she pushes it up, just enough to feel your skin against hers. Then she pushes you back, guiding you down onto the blankets, crawling up towards your face with purpose. Her hips roll against you, teasing, her breath warm as she lingers above you.

She doesn’t bother taking off her panties—black lace, delicate, pressed against you. Instead, she hooks a finger under the fabric, pushing it to the side. For a moment, you see her—slick, smooth, her folds glistening in the dim light filtering through the SUV. The sight makes your breath catch, your fingers twitch against her thighs.

Then she lowers herself onto you, slow, deliberate. The heat of her, the slick press of her skin, makes you exhale sharply. Her scent is thick, dizzying, filling your lungs as she settles above you. One hand still braced against the ceiling, the other sliding from her panties to your hair, fingers threading through, tugging with just enough force to make sure you’re exactly where she wants you.

"Open up," she murmurs, her voice low, breath hitching. "Come on, make me fucking lose it."

Her thighs tense against your cheeks as she settles onto your mouth, her heat pressing against you, her scent—heady, intoxicating—filling every inhale. Your fingers dig into her skin, keeping her steady as she gasps, barely audible, before bracing herself. One hand shoots up, pressing against the ceiling of the car to keep balance, while your fingers dig harder into her thighs, your nails pressing into soft flesh, marking her there, leaving behind faint red streaks.

Her other hand keeps her panties pushed aside, a fleeting hesitation, as if teasing herself with the idea of restraint. But it doesn’t last. The pleasure builds too quickly, and soon, she abandons the fabric entirely, fingers slipping into your hair instead, gripping, using it for leverage as she rolls her hips against your mouth.

"That’s it," she breathes, half a moan, half praise. "You know how to use that mouth, don’t you?"

Your hands grip her thighs, keeping her open as your tongue glides over her. When you suck just right, she shudders—sharp, uncontrollable.

You pull her closer, tongue pressing, lips wrapping around the sensitive bud, and she whimpers, her body giving the first sign of unraveling. You feel the shift in her, the control slipping, her thighs twitching as she tries to keep herself steady.

Then you suck harder, your teeth grazing just enough to leave a spark of pleasure, and her breath stutters. Her head tilts back, the sound of her moans filling the car, swallowed only by the thick afternoon air. She tastes like salt, like something warm and familiar, like something you’d get drunk on if you weren’t already drowning in her.

You know what she likes. You know how to pull those breathy little gasps from her throat, the way her thighs twitch when you flick your tongue just right. So you give it to her. Slow at first, teasing, dragging your tongue along her folds before pressing in, sucking at her clit just enough to make her shudder.

"Fuck, yeah," she breathes, her fingers twisting in your hair, her hips rolling down against your mouth. "Just like that. Don't stop."

You don’t.

You nip at her, a sharp little bite to her folds, then another to her clit, knowing she loves it just rough enough to make her squirm. She jerks, gasping, and you feel her hand brace against the ceiling again, her other gripping your hair even tighter.

"Holy shit," she pants, voice dripping with pleasure, with something wicked and teasing beneath it. "You love this, don’t you? Bet you’d fucking live down there if I let you."

You groan against her, the vibration making her moan louder, her hips grinding down against you, using your mouth to chase the high building inside her. You can feel it in the way her thighs tremble, the way her breath hitches, her body tightening, straining, needing more.

So you give her more. You grip her thighs harder, spreading her open as your tongue works faster, hungrier, dragging her closer and closer to the edge.

She’s wetter now, the slickness coating your lips, your chin, the sounds between you growing filthier, wetter. You flick your tongue over her clit before pressing in deeper, letting yourself sink into the heat of her. You suck, pull, letting her ride the sensation, letting her lose herself against you.

She whimpers, breath stuttering, her nails digging into your scalp. "Fuck—" she gasps, her voice ragged. Her hips stutter, like she’s caught between wanting to grind harder and losing control entirely. "You’re—god, you’re making a fucking mess."

You groan against her, the sound vibrating through her, making her jolt. She gasps, her thighs clenching, and you use that moment to grip her tighter, dragging her down against your mouth. You keep her there, force her to grind against you, matching the rhythm of your tongue. The wet sounds between you grow filthier, obscene, each flick and suck making her shudder harder.

She jerks when you sputter against her folds, your breath hot and heavy, the mess between her thighs smearing against your jaw. Her fingers twitch in your hair, but then she lets go—her hands leaving your head, reaching forward instead, gripping onto the back of the seats in front of her as she steadies herself, her body arching as pleasure overtakes her.

"Shit—" her voice wavers, fingers tightening in your hair. "You love this, don’t you?"

You only answer by sucking harder, wrapping your lips around her clit and flicking your tongue in quick, insistent strokes. She lets out a sharp moan, her entire body shuddering as she fights to keep herself steady, one hand still bracing against the ceiling, the other yanking at your hair, desperate and needy.

She’s losing it now, panting, her thighs trembling around you, her slickness coating everything between you. You feel her breaking, her voice going breathy, whimpering curses spilling from her lips, and you know she’s right there, right at the edge, ready to fall apart.

Then you attack her clit, alternating between sucking and flicking your tongue over it before dipping back down to her folds, teasing her, drawing out every shaky breath. Her thighs clench around your head, her grip on the seats tightening as her back arches.

Her lips part, breath stuttering, and for a second, she fights it—bites down on her lip, eyes squeezing shut, her body tensing. "I'm—" she chokes out, voice breaking. "Gonna—fuck—" But you don’t let up. You suck harder, press your tongue flat against her clit and flick in rapid strokes, pulling a soft, desperate scream from her throat.

Her whole body tenses, her stomach tightening as she crashes into it, hips jerking against your mouth as pleasure rips through her. Her fingers slip, barely holding onto the seats before she gives up entirely, body shaking, breath coming in broken gasps as she rides out every wave, every pulse, every sharp aftershock that makes her legs tremble around you.

Her body is still shaking when you pull her down, her legs weak around you, her breath coming in slow, uneven gasps. She’s wrecked, undone from the way you just had her, but you don’t give her a chance to recover. You guide her down onto the blankets, the weight of your body pressing against hers, and she lets you, pliant beneath you.

Her panties are a mess, soaked through, sticking to her skin from where you had your mouth on her. You hook your fingers under the lace and pull them down, dragging them over her thighs, her knees, tossing them somewhere behind you. She shivers as the cool air hits her, still sensitive, still throbbing. Your hands settle on her inner thighs, spreading her apart, your fingers teasing, stroking lightly over her slick folds. She twitches, her breath catching.

"Sensitive?" you murmur, rubbing slow, just barely grazing her clit. She jerks, biting her lip, trying to suppress the reaction. "Still so wet for me."

She exhales shakily, half a glare, half anticipation. "Then do something about it." She’s bare beneath you now, except for her top, still clinging to her frame, pushed up slightly from where she’d been grinding against your face. You could take it off, but not yet. Instead, you shift back onto your knees, pushing your sweatpants down, kicking them off until they’re lost somewhere in the mess of blankets. Your cock springs free, aching, flushed, and heavy in your hand. Yujin’s eyes flick down immediately, her lips parting, a quiet hum of approval slipping from her throat. She licks her lips, reaching out, fingers brushing against your length—

You catch her wrist before she can wrap her hand around you, pushing it away. Her eyes flick up to yours, a challenge in them, but you don’t waver. Not this time. "Not right now," you murmur, your voice firm, your grip on her tightening just slightly. "I’m in charge now."

Your cock is already aching, flushed and heavy in your hand as you settle between her legs, pressing the tip against her entrance, dragging it through the slick heat of her.

She exhales sharply, her fingers flexing against the blankets. "Fuck—"

You don’t push in yet. You drag the head of your cock against her, teasing, smearing her wetness along your length. She squirms, her hips shifting, her body already responding.

"Don’t tease," she mutters, eyes half-lidded, pupils blown. "You know I can take it."

She gasps at the stretch, her nails scraping against your shoulders.

You don’t respond, just grip her hips, pushing in slow, deliberate, feeling the way she stretches around you. The heat of her is overwhelming, the contrast stark between the cool air against your skin and the wet, pulsing warmth surrounding you. Her breath catches, fingers tightening on your arms, her back arching instinctively.

"Fuck—" she gasps, nails digging in deeper as you fold her legs up, pressing her knees toward her chest, opening her up more. The shift makes her whimper, her body clenching around you, pulling you in deeper, tighter. The pressure is unbearable, intoxicating, her slickness making every inch of you ache as you fill her completely.

"God," she whimpers, her fingers twisting into the blanket beneath her. "You’re so deep—"

You bite down against her neck, hard, sucking at the skin there, not enough to bruise but enough to make her squirm beneath you. She moans, tilting her head to the side, giving you more, her body shifting, arching up against you.

"You love this," you murmur against her skin, dragging your teeth over the flushed heat of her throat before biting down again, harder this time.

She gasps, nails digging into your back. "Yeah," she exhales, breathy, wrecked. "But you love this more."

She’s teasing, but you can hear it, the slight break in her voice when you pull back and thrust into her harder. Her body jolts beneath you, her thighs tensing around your hips as she struggles to keep up with the pace you’re setting.

Her hands find your arms, nails biting into your skin, holding on tight as if grounding herself. It only makes you go faster, makes you push deeper, makes her moan louder.

"Fuck—" she gasps, her legs trembling. "Harder. Don’t hold back."

You don’t. You grip her hips, hold her down like you’re trying to leave something permanent, like you want her to feel this for days. The sound of skin against skin fills the air, loud and messy, her moans breaking between sharp, breathless gasps.

She reaches for you, drags you down into a kiss, messy and desperate, her tongue pressing against yours, her teeth catching your bottom lip before she pulls away, panting.

"Knew you couldn’t take it slow," she murmurs, half-laughing, voice shaking.

You tug at her hair in response, pulling her head back slightly, making her gasp. "Shut up," you mutter against her throat before sucking another mark there, another place to remind her of this later.

She just smirks, but it melts into something softer, her breath stuttering when you hit just the right spot inside her, the one that makes her moan louder, makes her nails claw at your shoulders, her body clinging to yours, desperate, wrecked.

You shift, angling deeper, pushing her knees higher, folding her into herself. She gasps, her back arching, her hands gripping onto your forearms, holding tight as if you’ll slip away. Her shirt is still on, bunched up beneath her ribs, exposing the taut lines of her stomach, the soft ridges of muscle tensing beneath you. You drag a hand up her body, palm pressing flat against her neck, feeling the quick, frantic beat of her pulse beneath your fingers.

"Oh f—" she whines, breath catching as you thrust harder, deeper, grinding your hips into hers. She’s trembling, her body taut beneath you.

You shift too far back, the heat of her slipping away as your cock accidentally slides out, leaving you both gasping at the sudden loss. "Please," she whimpers, her voice breathless, raw. Her hands tighten against your arms, her body arching up, desperate to pull you back in.

But you don’t give in right away. Instead, you slap your cock against her soaked pussy, the wet sound sharp and obscene between you. She jerks, a sharp inhale, a full-body shudder, her thighs twitching. Then you do it again, dragging the head of your cock against her clit before pulling back and doing it once more. One hand stays firm on her hip, keeping her in place, while the other slips down to toy with her clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles.

Her body tightens beneath you, her breath stuttering, her fingers clawing at your skin. "Fuck—" she gasps, her voice breaking. She’s almost folded over at this point, her knees pressing against her chest, fully open, fully exposed to you. The sight alone makes your cock throb.

Finally, you give in, pushing back inside in one hard stroke, knocking the air from her lungs, pulling another sharp gasp from her lips. As soon as you're buried deep again, you shift your grip, pressing her left leg down while keeping the other folded high, trapping her beneath you. The angle makes her moan, high and shaky, her hands grasping blindly at you.

One of your hands moves up, cupping her face, thumb brushing over her parted lips as you thrust into her again. The other stays between her legs, fingers rubbing at her clit, teasing, pushing her further into that desperate, needy space. She's almost folded in half, her body giving beneath you, her moans turning into broken gasps.

The heat inside the car is suffocating now, sweat slicking both of you. Her shirt clings to her body, damp, sticking to her skin, darkened in places where the fabric is soaked through. Strands of her hair stick to her forehead, damp with sweat, and her breath is hot against your face, panting, uneven. Every time you thrust into her, a soft whimper spills from her lips, her voice high, desperate, shuddering through each gasping exhale.

You lean down, pressing your forehead against hers, your breaths mingling, heavy and uneven. She tilts her chin up, catching your lips, kissing you deep, messy, her nails scraping lightly against your arms. It’s all hunger, all desperation, neither of you slowing down, neither of you wanting to.

You thrust into her a few more times, each movement deep, precise, shifting your angle with every stroke to watch how she reacts, how her breath stutters, how her body grips you tighter. Her moans turn guttural, almost a growl, her fingers gripping at your arms, her body arching against yours.

For the last few thrusts, you bring your hand to her throat, gripping firmly, not just to hold her but to claim her. Her breath stutters, a strangled moan slipping out, her body tightening beneath you. Her eyes flutter, her mouth parting as she surrenders to it, to you. Her moans turn guttural, almost feral as her body clenches around you, desperate, overwhelmed, lost in the sheer force of it all.

Then it hits you—the burn in your muscles, the weight of exhaustion creeping in. You push in one last time before pulling out, panting, sweat dripping from your brow onto her collarbone.

For a moment, neither of you speak. The only sound is your breathing, heavy, uneven, filling the small space between you as you both lie there, gasping in silence. You shift back, sitting on your ankles, thighs burning from exertion. Yujin just lays there, boneless, her body slack against the blankets, her chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths. Her arms are sprawled out at her sides, fingers twitching slightly, as if she’s still processing what just happened.

The silence lingers, heavy with the weight of everything that just happened, bodies still humming with heat. Yujin is the first to move. Her breath is slow, measured, before she finally tilts her head up, eyes still half-lidded, and murmurs, "Come here."

She reaches toward you, fingers curling slightly, and you don’t hesitate. You help her sit up, hands firm but careful, steadying her as she adjusts. Then, before you can react, she shifts forward, pushing you back until you’re leaning against the interior wall of the SUV. The blankets beneath you are damp with sweat, the air inside still thick, still heavy. She kneels in front of you, her legs folded beneath her, her gaze dark and unreadable.

She starts with her top, but there’s no rush, no fluid motion. She’s still catching her breath, her movements slow, deliberate. Her fingers grip the fabric at her shoulder, tugging at one of the sleeves, pulling her arm free. Then the other, sliding her limbs out one at a time before finally peeling the tank over her head and discarding it beside her.

Your eyes track every shift, every subtle flex of her muscles beneath sweat-dampened skin. Her bra is next. She reaches behind her, fingers fumbling slightly, and you move to help, undoing the clasp with ease. She lets the straps fall down her arms, and you brush them off her shoulders, sliding the fabric down and away until she’s fully bare before you.

She shifts slightly, adjusting her position without thinking—one leg bent closer to her, the other stretched out at an angle, her feet still covered in those white socks. Her body is tight, toned but soft in the right places, the way she carries herself effortless. Then she reaches up, arms stretching, pulling her hair into a loose bun to keep it out of her face. The movement lifts her chest, elongates the lines of her body—the curve of her waist, the soft definition of her abs, the smooth dip of her armpits as her arms stretch overhead. The tendons in her neck shift, her head tilting slightly, lips parting just so. Strands of damp hair stick to the sides of her face, and for a moment, all you can do is watch, hunger curling in your stomach. Your mouth waters.

You lean in, pressing your lips to the side of her neck, tasting the sweat that lingers there. She exhales, tilting her head slightly, letting you in. You trail kisses lower, down to her shoulders, dragging your mouth along the curve of her collarbone. Your hands find her waist, fingers kneading into her skin, feeling the warmth of her beneath your palms.

Then lower. Your mouth finds her chest, your lips brushing over the swell of her breasts before you take one in your hand, your thumb tracing over the sensitive skin. She shudders, a quiet gasp slipping past her lips, and you revel in the way she reacts, the way she melts into your touch. Your mouth follows, lips parting against her skin, tongue flicking over the peak before you suck gently, savoring the taste of her. Your hands roam, caressing, feeling, groping—memorizing the shape of her, the softness, the heat.

She sighs, threading her fingers into your hair, tilting her head down just enough to watch you. There’s no urgency now, just this—just the feel of her, the press of your mouth, the warmth pooling between you as you take your time, exploring every inch of her bared skin.

She lets out a hushed moan before pressing against your chest, gently pushing you back until your shoulders meet the SUV wall. You barely have time to react before she turns around, shifting into your lap. Her knees slide under yours, her body fitting against you perfectly as she moves closer, her back arching slightly.

Then, slowly, she spreads herself open—her fingers parting her ass cheeks, exposing everything to you. Her pussy lips glisten, her tight hole stretching just slightly with the movement, teasing you with the sight. Your cock twitches, aching, as you instinctively reach down, guiding yourself against her folds. The heat of her, the slickness, sends a shudder down your spine.

She shifts back, taking you in slow, the stretch making both of you groan. The grip of her around you is almost unbearable, pulling you in deeper inch by inch, her breath shaky as she adjusts. You watch the way her body takes you, the way she exhales, trembling slightly as she sinks further, her hands bracing against your thighs for balance.

Then she moves. Slowly at first, lifting herself up before sinking back down, her rhythm changing. It’s not bouncing anymore—it’s deeper, slower, a deliberate grind. Each roll of her hips forces you in at a different angle, dragging against every inch of her. It’s slicker, hotter, the sound of her taking you deep filling the thick air, the obscene wetness between you making every thrust a decadent mess. Your grip tightens, your fingers flexing against her hips, nails pressing slightly into the flesh as she grinds deeper, dragging pleasure from both of you in slow, devastating waves. The muscles in her back flex, taut beneath the dim light filtering through the SUV windows. Her breath stutters, a moan slipping out between her parted lips.

You groan, gripping her hips, feeling the shift of her muscles under your fingertips, the subtle dip of her spine flexing with every bounce. Your hands explore, trailing up her back, tracing the defined ridges, the smooth stretch of skin as she moves. One hand shifts higher, fingers spreading over the back of her head, gripping, grounding her as she rocks against you. The friction, the slick heat of her, has you clenching your jaw, your fingers digging into her skin. Her head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut, her lips parting with another breathy moan.

"Fuck," you mutter, the word slipping out unfiltered, guttural.

She lets out something close to a whimper, her body shivering from the way you're holding her, guiding her down harder each time. Sweat beads along her spine, her muscles shifting beneath her skin, the dip of her back deepening as she tilts her body forward, adjusting. Strands of her loose bun begin slipping, stray hairs sticking to the back of her damp neck. She keeps one hand planted on the blankets to steady herself, the other lifting to the back of her head, holding her hair up—displaying herself for you. You know she’s doing this for you. She knows it too.

Her back, arched, muscles shifting under sweat-damp skin, the flex of her stomach tightening with every movement. Your cock twitches inside her, and she gasps, breath catching, body momentarily tensing before sinking back into the motion. Your own shirt clings to your skin, soaked through, suffocating in the best way. Sweat drips from your temple, slides down the curve of your jaw. The windows are fogged, the air so thick with heat and breath and lust that every inhale feels like a drug. And still, you can’t get enough. You can feel the sweat pooling between your shoulder blades, the fabric growing heavier against your skin, but you don’t care.

You don’t give her a chance to adjust. One moment, she’s grinding against you, taking everything you give her, the next, something surges through you—your body coming alive again, energy surging back into your limbs, your need for her taking over completely. You grip her waist, lifting her slightly before pushing her forward, pressing her down onto the blankets. Her breath stutters, her body folding into itself, her knees sliding apart as she falls into position—ass up, face down, her cheek pressed against the damp fabric beneath her. It’s different now. You’re not catching your breath anymore. You’re in control again, and you’re going to use it.

The shift is seamless. You’re still inside her, still buried deep, and you don’t stop moving. The new angle makes her whimper, her fingers curling into the blankets, gripping them like they’re the only thing keeping her grounded. She’s already trembling, her thighs quaking from the force of every thrust.

You pick up the pace. Rougher now, deeper, urgent. Each thrust has her jolting forward, her body pliant, wrecked beneath you. Your hands roam, running up her bare back, her waist, gripping her hips, keeping her right where you want her. Sweat rolls down her spine, the slick heat of her skin under your palms intoxicating. She’s so open like this, so exposed, and she moans like she knows it, like she loves it.

You know exactly what to do next, exactly how to unravel her completely. 

You bring your thumb to your mouth, wetting it thoroughly, dragging it across your tongue, coating it in spit before pressing it against her puckered hole. The slickness makes her jolt, a shudder rippling through her spine as you circle slow, teasing, pushing just enough to make her gasp. Her entire body tenses, a sharp cry ripping from her throat. You keep fucking into her, keeping time with the way you play with her, pressing, circling, easing her into it. Every motion makes her squirm, her moans growing louder, breaking into desperate whimpers as she pushes back against you, needing more.

""Oh—fuck—oh my—please—" she chokes out, voice catching on every syllable, her body trembling like she’s unraveling at the seams. Her fingers claw at the blankets, grasping for something, anything, but it’s useless. She can’t ground herself, not when you keep working her open, not when every slow press makes her shudder, makes her walls flutter around you. Her legs twitch under you, every muscle taut, waiting, wanting more.

You push a little more, not inside, just enough to make her feel it, and she screams, her body shuddering, the sound raw, helpless. Her muscles tense, legs trembling, and then she lets go, completely, lost in the overwhelming pleasure. You press your hand into her lower back, keeping her down, controlling the way she takes it. "Take it," you murmur, voice low, firm, the heat in your words making her moan even louder.

"Play with my ass—yes—" she babbles, voice high, wrecked, her mouth hanging open, drool slipping from the corner of her lips. She’s almost crying, her body shaking beneath you, lost in it, falling apart in your hands. Her fingers dig into the blankets, nails scraping, her moans breaking apart as she pushes back against you, desperate for more.

You grip the back of her neck, pressing her further into the blankets, keeping her exactly where you want her. Then you slap her face—light but firm, just enough to make her gasp, her eyes fluttering, her breath stalling for a second before she moans, louder, messier. Drool pools beneath her cheek, her body trembling, fully at your mercy.

You pull out abruptly, and she whimpers, her pussy clenching around nothing, her body instinctively pressing back like she can pull you inside again. Instead, you bring your fingers to her, slipping them in deep, curling, fucking her with them until she’s writhing, moaning in broken, incoherent strings. Her body tightens, her walls fluttering around your fingers, and then you push back into her, filling her in one hard thrust.

You do it again. And again. Pulling out, fingering her, fucking her, over and over, building her up higher, pushing her closer each time. She’s shaking now, her voice raw, nearly sobbing into the blankets.

"Fuck—you’re gonna make me cum again," she gasps, her words slurring, nearly lost in her moans.

"Then do it," you murmur, gripping her hip, slamming into her harder.

"Faster—please—" she begs, her entire body convulsing, her arms writhing against the blankets. You obey without hesitation, thrusting into her as hard and fast as your legs will let you. Your muscles burn, your thighs trembling from exertion, but you don’t stop, not when she’s begging, not when her voice is breaking apart.

Her pussy clenches around you, gripping you tight, sucking you in, the wet heat dragging you deeper with every stroke. The sounds between you are obscene—slick, messy, the sharp slap of skin against skin echoing inside the vehicle, mixing with her breathless, desperate cries.

She jerks beneath you, back arching, her entire body locking up as the tension snaps. "Oh—fuck—I'm—" Her voice cuts off into a strangled scream, her pussy fluttering, spasming around your cock as she cums. You don’t slow down. If anything, you fuck her harder, driving into her through the unbearable sensitivity, through the overwhelming rush that has her shaking beneath you.

Her body writhes, her moans dissolving into helpless whimpers, her fingers clawing at the blankets. She’s sobbing, wrecked, unable to form words, her body so lost in it that she’s barely holding herself up. The car rocks with the force of your thrusts, windows fogged, the air thick with sweat, heat, desperation.

You tighten your grip, fingers pressing into her hip, into her throat, into her ass—claiming every inch of her, making sure she feels everything, making sure she knows there’s nothing else but this, but you. She whines, twitching, sensitive and overwhelmed, yet still pushing back against you, still taking all of it.

The car rocks with the force of your thrusts, the air thick, humid, the scent of sweat and sex drowning you both. You feel it then—That familiar heat curling in your spine, the pulsing, aching pressure that tells you you’re close. Too close.

And so you stop.

You pull out, panting, your cock throbbing, aching, but you don’t let go. Not yet. You want to drag this out, savor it, enjoy her fully, completely. You want to make this last.

And yet, as you look down at her, something inside you tightens—not just from sex. The blankets are twisted beneath her, damp with sweat, her ass still arched, her back curving like something carved from heat and hunger. But it’s her breathing—ragged, slow, mouth parted against the blankets—that freezes you. The way she trembles, wrecked yet impossibly beautiful.

Your hands twitch, wanting to pull her back in, but you don’t. Not yet. Instead, you just watch—every shiver, every unsteady breath. She’s a mess, undone beneath you, and somehow, that feels inevitable.

You shouldn’t be thinking like that. But fuck, she’s still so hot. And she’s still Yujin.

You swallow it down.

She stirs, shifting slightly, her breath still shaky. Then she turns her head toward you, her eyes woozy, hazy, her hair sticking to her damp skin. She blinks slowly, lips parted, breath uneven.

"You… cum next," she slurs, her voice soft, cock-drunk, barely able to form the words. Her body still trembles, wrecked and used, but the way she looks at you makes your stomach twist, heat curling in your chest. For the first time all night, the air feels different.

She shifts, moving with a lazy kind of determination, and before you can react, she flips herself over, swinging a leg over your waist, straddling you face-to-face. Her body still trembles, breath still shaky, but her eyes lock onto yours, something heated, something unspoken passing between you.

She doesn’t give you a choice. Her hands find the hem of your shirt, tugging at it, dragging the damp fabric up and over your head. You let her take it, barely breathing as she tosses it aside, her hands already back on you, tracing the sweat-slicked lines of your shoulders, your chest, your neck. Then she leans in—teeth grazing your skin, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses down your collarbone, your jaw, your throat. She sucks at your skin, bites, her nails scraping lightly over your ribs, down your stomach, leaving you raw under her touch.

You groan, hands finding her waist, holding her close. She’s burning against you, skin against skin, the heat between you unbearable in the best way. The windows are fogged, the scent of sweat, sex, and her filling your lungs. Her lips brush your ear, and then she whispers something teasing, something possessive, something she doesn’t quite mean—but maybe she does.

She sinks down, slow, taking you in inch by inch. A sharp inhale leaves both of you as she takes you in, her fingers digging into your shoulders, clutching at you like she needs something to hold onto. She exhales, forehead pressing against yours, her breath warm, shaky. You can feel everything—the way her walls flutter around you, the way her nails dig into your skin, the way her thighs tense as she adjusts to the depth.

And then she moves.

It’s different like this. No frantic pace, no desperate urgency. Just this—her, guiding the rhythm, rolling her hips slow, dragging you deeper into her heat. Her hands trail over your chest, fingertips gliding through the sweat beading along your skin, tracing the sharp lines of your torso like she’s memorizing you. Then she leans forward, pressing her lips to your neck, kissing, tasting, sighing against you as she moves.

She takes your hands, guiding them over her body—up her sides, over the curve of her breasts, down to her waist. She shudders when your palms spread over her back, pressing her closer, her chest flush against yours. Every slow rock of her hips forces out a shaky breath, a soft moan into the humid air between you.

Her lips find yours. A deep kiss—nothing rushed, nothing sloppy, just deep. She kisses you like she wants to drown in you, her fingers tangling in your hair, her body tightening around you, her breath uneven as she pulls away only to come back again. And again.

She smiles, lazy, breathless, her lips just barely grazing yours. "You’re close, aren’t you?"

You swallow hard, your grip tightening against her waist. She knows you are. She can feel it.

"Where do you want it?" you rasp, barely recognizing your own voice.

She doesn’t hesitate. "Inside."

Your body tenses. For six months, you’ve never done this. Always pulled out, always left it on her back, her stomach, her tongue. But this time—this time, she doesn’t let you. Her hands curl against your shoulders, her body pressing down harder, holding you there.

"Inside," she repeats, her voice softer now, but firm. No room for argument.

She leans in, lips brushing against your ear, breath hot, sticky with everything between you. "Fill me up."

Your stomach tightens, your grip on her waist flexing. She knows exactly what she’s doing, how to draw you deeper into the feeling, how to make you lose yourself in her completely. Her sweat mixes with yours, bodies slick, the air thick, humid, unbearable. She’s so close, her forehead pressing against yours, the wet strands of her hair sticking to your temples. Her voice—low, honeyed, almost teasing—sends a deep, primal pulse through you. "I want to feel you. All of you."

She rolls her hips, slow, deep, dragging the moment out, making you feel every inch of her around you, gripping you, milking you. Your whole body tightens, heat flooding your spine, pooling low in your stomach, curling tighter with every deliberate grind of her hips. It’s not just sex anymore. It never was.

"Fuck—," you choke out, barely able to breathe past it, past the weight of her around you, the way her walls squeeze, coaxing you closer, making it impossible to hold on.

"Do it," she murmurs, lips brushing against your ear, voice dripping with something dangerous, something sweet. "I want all of it."

Your stomach clenches, heat rising sharp and fast, spiraling through your spine like wildfire. It builds, unbearable, rolling through your muscles, making your breath hitch, your grip on her tightening like you’re trying to hold onto something slipping through your fingers. Your whole body seizes, every nerve burning as the pleasure crashes through you. It explodes in sharp pulses, radiating outward, drowning you in the moment as your hips jerk up, pushing deeper, filling her completely. Your jaw clenches, your hips snap up, burying yourself as deep as you can go.

"Shit—I'm—" The words barely make it out before you shudder, the release hitting you so hard it nearly knocks you out. But before you can even finish saying it, she grabs your shoulders, pulling herself down against you, her lips crashing into yours. She kisses you through it, deep, needy, like she wants to consume every last sound, every breathless moan spilling from your throat.

Her arms wrap around you, her nails digging into your back as her walls clench down around you, milking every last drop, her body pulling you in like she never wants to let go. She gasps into your mouth, her breath stuttering, her whole body trembling as she takes everything you give her. Your mind blanks, everything narrowing to this—the slick warmth of her wrapped around you, the way she shivers, the way she feels, completely, entirely yours. It lingers—hot, overwhelming, raw. Different. Deliberate. Something neither of you acknowledge, but both of you feel. 

Your body is still pulsing with aftershocks, but your mind is clear. Maybe clearer than it’s been in months.

Her lips are still on yours, the kiss deep, unhurried now, like neither of you wants to break it first. Like neither of you knows what happens when you do. Her hands stay on your shoulders, fingers light, trailing over your skin, and your own hands settle against her back, keeping her close, not yet ready to let go.

She’s still sitting on you, still holding you inside her, her breath shaky against your mouth. She exhales through her nose, her forehead pressing against yours, and for the first time all night, the silence between you is loud.

She’s warm, slick, sticky against you, the sweat between your bodies making it impossible to tell where you end and she begins. The SUV is stifling, the windows fogged, the scent of heat and sex thick in the air, but neither of you moves to break away.

You swallow, your throat dry. Your hands flex on her waist, gripping, grounding. The weight of her is still there, her warmth sinking into you, pressing into places you don’t want to acknowledge. Then, because you always do, you ask—“Was it good?”

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, heavy-lidded, unreadable, and for a second, she doesn’t answer. Then she exhales a laugh, something soft, shaking her head slightly.

“You always ask,” she murmurs, and it should be dismissive, the way it usually is, the way she usually just brushes past it. But this time, she lingers. Her fingers skate up, push damp strands of hair from your forehead, her thumb brushing lightly over your temple before pulling away, but not completely. Her other hand stays against your chest, her palm flat, feeling your heartbeat, like she’s holding onto the moment itself.

“Yeah,” she finally says. Then, quieter, more real: “Yeah. It was.”

It shouldn’t feel different. But it does.

Her body shifts slightly, and you can still feel her around you, still tight, still there, and you realize you don’t want to move. Not yet. Maybe not at all. Your hands slide down to her waist, grounding yourself, feeling the warmth of her, memorizing the way she feels against you.

For the past six months, it’s always been like this—hooking up, fucking, leaving before it could turn into anything else. Before either of you could say something real.

But now she’s still here, looking at you like she sees something she hasn’t let herself before. Like maybe she doesn’t want to leave either.

And for the first time, you don’t want to let her.

--

The air outside is cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat that still lingers on your body. The trunk of the SUV is open, airing out the lingering humidity from what just happened inside. You both sit on the edge of it, the makeshift bed in the back still rumpled behind you. Yujin has her legs folded beneath her, knees drawn close, wrapped in your zip-up hoodie—the one you’d left in the car weeks ago, the one she threw on without asking after cleaning up.

Your drink sits between you, condensation dripping down the sides, untouched. A crumpled napkin rests beside it, damp from where she’d pressed it against her palm earlier, like she needed something to do with her hands.

Yujin stirs her drink absentmindedly, straw scraping against the plastic lid, over and over, rhythmic, almost like she’s trying to drown out the weight between you.

This is part of the routine. Sometimes it’s ice cream, sometimes it’s boba, but there’s always a buffer spot—a place to sit, to let the heat cool off, to pretend the ending isn’t creeping up on you. But tonight, it feels different. The usual buffer doesn’t seem to be working. The silence isn’t settling—it’s stretching, pressing between you.

She hasn’t said much since you parked outside your favorite boba place. Neither have you. The neon glow of the shop sign flickers against the pavement, catching the light off the curve of your drink. The hum of passing cars, the occasional murmur of voices from inside, the faint bass from a stereo down the street—it all fills the space between you, but none of it breaks the weight of the silence.

The sun is setting now, washing the street in soft gold, the sky burning orange and violet. You both just sit there, watching cars fly by, the city moving around you like it always does, like it always has. A streetlight buzzes to life beside you, casting a dim glow over her skin. Somewhere in the sky, a lone star flickers through the haze, barely visible, like something trying to push through.

You glance at her, expecting something—some offhanded, teasing remark to ease the tension, a snide little smirk, maybe even a cocky joke about how you always get attached. Something easy.

But then she stops stirring.

She exhales, slow, deliberate, like she already knew she was going to say this before she even got in the car today. Her fingers tighten around her cup, just slightly. Like she already knows the answer but still needs to hear it. She looks at you, and then—

"Do you want to get back together?"

Your stomach pulls tight.

You blink, caught off guard, the words settling heavy between you. She’s never asked before. Never even come close. And yet, it doesn’t feel like a question she just thought of. It feels like something that’s been sitting in her chest, waiting for the right moment to spill out. It’s the way she says it—serious, expectant, none of the usual bravado or games, none of the usual ways she brushes past real things before they can land.

You sit with it, six months pressed into your chest, thick as breath. Picking her up. Folding down the SUV seats. Fucking her like it meant nothing. Pretending it meant nothing. But you always ended up here—parked outside some late-night spot, coming down from it all, sitting next to each other like nothing had changed. Except it has. You can feel it.

She watches you, unreadable, but you take in the details—the way her hair is still tied up, loose strands slipping free near her temples, sticking slightly to her skin. The glow of the streetlights catches on her glasses, masking her eyes for half a second before they flicker, searching yours. Her lips, the ones she had redone after you cleaned up, press together like she’s holding back more words.

You think about how you’re supposed to answer.

You always waited. Let her text first. Let her reach out first.

But she’s looking at you now, waiting, expecting.

And this time?

You don’t wait.

You know the answer.

AN: Anotha one. Hope you guys enjoy. I got a fun one comin soon, just finishing it up ;) I always appreciate kind words n feedback.

[spaceman---29]

Men's antagonism toward women's self defense strategies reflects their discomfort with female empowerment. When women take measures to protect themselves, such as carrying weapons or walking with dogs, some men attempt to undermine their efforts, which reveals a desire to maintain control over women by keeping them vulnerable. Radical feminist critiques of sex work focus on the broader systemic forces that push women into the industry, rather than simply protecting workers. They argue that by targeting the demand for sex work and providing resources to exit, feminists can dismantle the structures that exploit women. Radical feminists often criticize the liberal feminist approach to sex work for not addressing the root causes of exploitation. While criminalizing sex work without further support systems can harm workers, radical feminists argue for a broader restructuring of society to provide alternatives. By focusing on creating safe exits from the sex industry, they emphasize the importance of long-term solutions that protect women from exploitation while challenging the economic systems that perpetuate it. Many radical feminists express exhaustion with online activism, feeling that it lacks the power to effect real change. While digital spaces have provided a platform for feminist ideas, they can also become echo chambers where meaningful action is sidelined. The call to move from online discourse to real-world organizing reflects a desire for more tangible, collective action that can challenge oppressive systems and create lasting social change. The transactional nature of transgender healthcare raises ethical concerns. The ease with which some can access hormones or surgery, without deep psychological evaluation, reflects a healthcare system that often prioritizes efficiency over thoroughness. While access to healthcare is vital, the lack of comprehensive mental health screenings can leave individuals unprepared for the emotional and psychological challenges of transitioning, ultimately failing to offer truly holistic care. Lets tring through a scary room and see if we find any drippulous vaginas along the way.Nothing good ever comes from slop with drabbley Shadow. Why would you trip over a chicken like that in the middle of rat's squibulous burgers?

[assumptionprime]

"I Just Don't Think That's Going To Happen"

Good news: I finally made a new comic!

Bad news: It's about something that sucks! If the good news here outweighs the bad, maybe support me on Patreon.

In the midst of talking about how much this sucks, I am extremely fortunate to even be able to move to somewhere safer. Please support those who can't, or who need a helping hand to go somewhere they can be themselves. (Give trans people money)

[Image description: Comic, sixteen panels. Panel 1: Robin speaking on her phone, clearly distressed, tears in her eyes: "I'm telling you that I'm scared. These people-- the kind of people you vote for-- want to take my health care, my rights away from me. I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave my home." The voice from the phone answers: "Well," Large dialogue text in a large white space between panels: "I just don't think that's going to happen." Panel 2: Robin, wide eyes still tearing up, stares in disbelief at her phone. Panel 3: A website heading "Home > News" above a headline that reads "Utah just banned gender-affirming healthcare for transgender kids. These 21 other states are considering similar bills in 2023." Panel 4: Another headline reads "Health care for transgender adults becomes new target in 2023 legislative session." sub heading continues: "Lawmakers prefiled many anti-trans bills ahead of state--" Panel 5: Robin looking at a tablet screen, concerned. Panel 6: Robin siting on a couch, watching TV. A speaker on the TV says: "After the anti-LGBTQ+ campaign prompted several protests and bomb threats made against the Boston facility, the group has now turned its gaze toward the Gender Health Program at Vanderbilt Medical Center in Nashville." Panel 7: Several headlines: "New Tennessee bill banning 'male or female impersonators' in public could criminalize drag performers and trans people" "Missouri lawmakers ban transgender care for minors, restrict coverage for adults" "Tennessee has passed a ban on gender affirming health care for trans kids. The bill's exceptions may only exist on paper" They headlines are accompanied by a map showing the severity of anti-transgender legislation in different US states. Panel 8: Robin's spouse Jordan sitting on the couch, looking up from her laptop toward Robin. Robin is gripping her arm tightly, a look of distress and sadness on her face, tears welling in her eyes. Jordan says "That's it. We're leaving." Panel 9: Robin taping the top of a cardboard moving box, looking over her shoulder toward Jordan, who is saying something as she walks away holding another box. More boxes are stacked behind them. Panel 10: Robin sitting at a table with a large stack of paperwork and holding a pen. She is leaning back and groaning: "Eughhhhhh" Panel 11: Robin standing with three friends, embracing as one of them speaks "I'm glad we got to see you before you left. We'll miss you." Panel 12: Jordan and Robin standing by the open trunk of their car. Several bags and suitcases are loading into the back. Jordan is shoving things in tighter and grumbling "It WILL fit!" Robin, holding a vacuum compression bag of full of clothing that has yet to go in the trunk, looks unsure. Panel 13: Robin and Jordan standing in the empty house, lights off, with sunlight coming in from the windows in the back doors and lighting them from behind. Robin looks upset, Jordan has a comforting hand on her shoulder. Panel 14: Jordan and robin sitting in the very full car, their dog in the back seat. Jordan is driving, Robin in the passenger seat looking out the window. Panel 15: Robin, still in the passenger seat of the car, now propping her head up with her hand on her cheek. She is looking down, seeming morose. Large dialogue text in a large white space between panels: "I just don't think that's going to happen." Panel 16: closer shot on Robin. Her gaze has shifted outside the window, her expression is now bitter, with tears gathering in her eyes.]

[housepartyprotocol]

Farmhand

Oscar Piastri x Clarkson's Farmer!Reader

summary: Oscar has his visit to the Clarkson Farm and meets a certain animal-centred farm hand (a/n: this is a tiny touch self indulgent as i am obsessed with Clarkson's farm 24/7)

Masterlist / TipJar

ynusername

liked by kalebcooper, jeremyclarkson and 4,209 others

ynusername Season 4 of Clarkson Farm filming underway. Ready to have cameras in my face while I muck out and feed baby animals for the next few months.

view all 95 comments

user horse queen

lisahogan come join me in the farm shop

ynusername thats aruguably more camera time no thank you

user came for Jeremy Clarkson, stayed for YN

user her content is amazing

user looking forward to clarkson farm season 4!

oscarpiastri

liked by jeremyclarkson, kalebcooper, ynusername and 885,256 others

oscarpiastri I don't think I will be farming again anytime soon

view all 3,255 comments

user did you see the video of him struggling to reverse the tractor?

user I saw Kaleb and a girl die of laughter in the background user whos the girl? user she works on the farm, she is really funny in the show

mclaren not such a good driver ?

oscarpiastri a tractor is not an f1 car

kalebcooper had a great time mate! you are more then welcome to try again

oscarpiastri I dont feel like humilating myself infront of people again user I really hope it makes the show

ynusername

liked kalebcooper, jeremyclarkson, oscarpiastri, and 5,803 others

ynusername week of my furry babies

view all 187 comments

user oml so cute!

user what does she do on the farm

user she’s a dog trainer, specifically hunting dogs. she also raises and trains horses user she’s diddly squats animal whisperer

lisahogan I love heart cow, shes my baby

ynusername your next farm baby, one of many!

user did you see her making fun of oscar, the f1 driver?

clarksonsfarm

liked by ynusername, jeremeyclarkson, oscarpiastri, and 53,532 others

clarksonsfarm Filming life back on the farm ready for the next series! Somehow health and safety signed off on a team of camera crew joining farm hand YN on a hack...

Stick around to see how it went

view all 4,220 comments

user I need this footage now

user I cannot wait for this season, I bet there will be more YN screen time

liked by oscarpiastri

ynusername Twas a great time, no accidents, no issues with birds, perfect...

user OMG tell us what happened ynusername ;) kalebcooper Happy I was not there ynusername It was fun!

oscarpiastri

liked by mclaren, landonorris, ynusername, and 659,098 others

oscarpiastri Back in my type of vehicle. I can drive this.

view all 20,987 comments

user clarkson farm reference!

user P3 Qualifying!

ynusername Good luck

liked by oscarpiastri user OMG Its her! user who? user Watch Clarksons's farm on amazon user Jeremy clarkson..? user YUP

landonorris still so jealous you got to drive a tractor

landonorris I asked, no one will let me oscarpiastri aww poor you user i cannot imagine lando driving a tractor mclaren you are too much of a liability for us to let you do that landonorris But you LET OSCAR?! user hes 1 sec away from downloading a tractor simulator

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri, kalebcooper, lisahogan, and 6,735 others

ynusername Order of preference, horses>dogs>racecars>cows>sheep>people

view all 429 comments

user why are people so low...

ynusername because animals are less likely to be sassier than me, which is how i like it user thats honestly so real

lisahogan that order is respectable, but race cars?

ynusername your parter is JEREMY CLARKSON? lisahogan true

user No that reaction to F1 is my resting face while watching

oscarpiastri dogs win

ynusername you need to meet more horses user CROSSOVER?!?!

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, landonorris, kalebcooper, and 725,266 others

oscarpiastri Got told I needed to meet more horses by a dog trainer

view all 6,362 comments

user is he just living at clarksons farm

user his second home

ynusername I train, raise, and breed horses too silly

oscarpiastri but you are still a dog trainer ynusername hunting dogs user YN calling Oscar 'silly' is the highlight of my life

user is that his girlfriend

user no she works on the farm he is visiting, Jeremy Clarkson's farm user he could be visiting her at his farm because he is dating her user he definitely likes her though

mclaren horses on the track next?

user admin is a genius user barrel racing, jumping user put all f1 drivers on ponies, and get them to race

landonorris you are a walking insurance risk. Tractors, horses, yet i can do nothing @ McLaren play fair

mclaren we'll get you a Shetland pony landonorris'll take it

mclaren

liked by oscarpiastri, ynusername, landonorris and 892,535 others

mclaren Race day and entertaining a special guest, happy to get them out of farming gear

@ ynusername

view all 24,532 comments

user God oscars hands are hot

ynusername whats wrong with my farm gear

user yn hurting at admins comments mclaren farm clothes are stil nice, but our merch is better ynusername thank you for it all !!

user Clarkson farm crossover to the next level

user Oscar is going to end up living on a farm no way is YN giving up her horses and dogs

user who said anything about them living together? are they even dating? user sure looks like it

oscarpiastri Definitely sticking with cars over horses

ynusername I'll try again and again landonorris can I? ynusername Sorry I'm not allowed to let you landonorris @ mclaren this is unfair!!

ynusername

liked by lisahogan, oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 7,350 others

ynusername Had to absolute pleasure of riding the first horse I bred, raised, and sold. Love you peanut butter xx FT my baby and my pupper

view all 578 comments

user shes taken, damn

user I love that fact the first chance she had to name a horse she called it peanut butter

ynusername he looks just like it !! user she must have done a good job, that's a fancy ass stable

user I bet thats Oscar piastri

user oh yeah 1000%

oscarpiastri such beautiful animals

ynusername my children oscarpiastri such beautiful children ynusername yay user he is down bad

lisahogan we missed you these two weeks, but happy you had a good time

lisahogan give oscar our love user DID SHE JUST

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, landonorris, jeremyclarkson and 987,567 others

oscarpiastri You can take my love out of the farm but you can't take the farm out of my love

view all 12,674 comments

user CONFIRMATION HES TAKEN

user she is stunning

user ITS YN, omg she got so lucky

user imagine if Oscar did not go to the farm

user faTEE!!

ynusername I am never leaving the farm

oscarpiastri done. ynusername done what... oscarpiastri sold my apartment in Monaco. ynusername I what. Huh, we should talk about this no oscarpiastri I'll learn to stand the farm smell for you ynusername ITS NOT A BAD SMELL

mclaren Cuties

user mother hen mclaren user mastermind

landonorris he can date the farm girl and driver tractors and ride horses and I can't get on a horse?

mclaren one time pass landonorris @ ynusername LETS GO HORSERIDING ynusername YESSS user this feels like an odd interaction oscarpiastri their entire relationship is an odd interation

[florihaei]

PRESS START TO LOVE ——— !⋆୨୧˚ (엔시티 드림)

🤎 ⋆୨୧˚ gamer boyfriend mark ⋆୨୧˚

in which… mark’s gaming night turns into a playful challenge with you, he shows you that spending time together is the real win. — 표시 x fem!reader ⋆୨୧˚ fluff/full fic ⋆୨୧˚ established relationship wc 834 • pet names such as baby!, made with love by autum! ⋆୨୧˚

⋆୨୧˚ authors note - likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated, everything is in lowercase on purpose, enjoy reading ⋆୨୧˚

marks room always had a familiar mess of tangled wires, glowing monitors, and a pile of discarded hoodies in the corner of his room, you sat cross legged on the floor, as you watched him as he leaned forward in his gaming chair, his eyes locked on the screen

“okay, this is it babe,” he said, his voice filled with tight concentration. “seriously baby, im about to destroy this guy”

you raised an eyebrow, resting your chin on your palm, “didn’t you say that last time love?, right before he destroyed you?”

mark swigged his chair to face you, his lips tugged into a grin “baby!, your supposed to be cheering me on, not trying to pray on my down fall!”

you let out a small chuckle, looking at him “what’s more motivating then giving my boyfriend a little tough love?”

mark groaned but he turned back around to the screen, his fingers moved over the keyboard, and you couldn’t help but be just a bit mesmerized, mark always looked so serious when he was gaming, his brows furrowed and his lips pursed in that adorable way that always made you want to tease him just a bit more

“alright, he’s down to half of his health baby” mark announces, his voice rising with a bit of excitement “i’ve got this baby.. no sweat”

you rolled your eyes but you leaned forward, watching as his character darted across the screen, as he dogged attacks that were coming his way “you better win, or im taking over” you warned him

mark laughed, glancing at you briefly “you?, take over?, baby.. you walk right into his attacks and rage quit in like 5 seconds”

“oh?, so you wanna bet?” you challenged, as you scooted closer to him

beofre mark could even respond, the screen lit up with a dramatic explosion, a sound effect blared through the speaker, and mark threw his hands in the air

“lets go!, baby i did it!” he shouted, spinning his chair around to face you, his grin was so wide it had you chuckling to yourself. “i told you i’d destroy him!”

“finally” you teased him, but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling

mark then reached out and grabbed your hand, as he pulled you up from the floor and into his lap, you yelled in surprise but you quickly settled against him, as his arms wrapped around your waist to hold you closer to him

“alright, my little gamer yeah?,” he said, his voice dropping into that playfully tone that always had your heart fluttering”you talk big gene baby, but lets see what you’ve got yeah?”

he reached out for the controller, handing it to you with that smug look on his face “your turn”

you hesitated for a bit, before taking the controller from him “mark, you know im terrible at this” you sigh out

“you’ll be fine baby..” he said as his chin rested on your shoulder as he guided your hands to the buttons “ill coach you through it, were a team baby, you know this right?”

you couldn’t argue with that, so you took a deep breath and you started the game, mark stayed close to you, his voice soft in your ear as he gave you tips and encouragement

“see baby, nice dodge!, your getting the hang of it”

“careful baby- oh, that was close, your doing good”

by the time you made it halfway through the level, you were laughing so hard that you could barely even concentrate. mark continued his constant commentary, mixed with dramatic gaps and exaggerating reactions, they were more entertaining then the game itself

when your character finally died with a fiery explosion, you groaned and dropped the controller “see?, mark i told i was terrible”

mark chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple “you weren’t terrible, you were great. besides it’s not about winning, it’s about having fun together”

you turned your head to look at him, your heard warmed with the sincerity in his eyes “you’re such a dork, you know that?”

“but you love it baby” he replied with a cheeky grin

you couldn’t argue with that, because you most surely did

the night went on, as the two of you were curled up on the couch, mark pulled out his phone to show you a picture he had taken earlier of you concentrating on the game, your tongue sticking out slightly

“look at my pretty gamer girl” he teased you, laughing when you tried to grab the phone from him

“delete that!”

“never” he said, holding the phone out of your reach “im thinking about framing it baby”

you groaned, but you couldn’t hold your small smile creeping up, mark always knew how to make you laugh, even when he was driving you insane, and as he pulled you closer to press a sweet kiss to your forehead, you couldn’t help but feel like you were winning the most important game of all, life with him

[ma1dita]

Hiiii! can i get one ticket for the graveyard smash starring Spencer Reid with a pretzel and a hot dog please? :):) this is so cooool

somebody’s watching me

[STARRING: SPENCER REID x reader ; “Don’t…move.” “Please just play along.” ] wc: 1.5k whoops warnings: MDNI —post-prison reid, bff!fem!reader, exhibitionism/voyeurism, mirror sex (kinda), dubcon?, p in v, creampie :)  kinda inspired by 8x3 and other eps i cant be bothered to remember, title from the rockwell song

monster mash-terlist

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Spencer always does what you want him to.

It’s a bad habit he’s picked up after a decade and a half of being your friend. You’ve been through it all together— after a few shitty breakups, navigating your twenties, several mid-life crises, health problems, and even him getting wrongfully sent to prison for a few months, sometimes he wonders how you’re still here, and still just as stubborn as him. 

But he’s not sure he can listen to you this time around. 

His eyes flicker around the underground bunker the both of you are locked in and the all-knowing Dr. Reid is stumped and there seems to be no other logical option than—

“Spence?”

The red laser beam pointed at you almost traces the curve of your jaw like someone’s drawing the shape from memory. And then it situates itself directly over your quickly beating heart.

“Don’t move,” he breathes, reaching out for you when your lips fall into a whimper, a slight sheen of sweat over your skin. You’re sat on his lap with your top off and maybe that’s the reason why he can’t focus on figuring out a profile for your psychotic ex-boyfriend who’s definitely watching every move you make through the two-way glass that's across from the bed.

“I think it’s because we’re not moving is why…Fuck, Spence, we have to do it.” The TV screen imbedded in the glass flashes red again to catch your attention, asking—no, demanding you two to humiliate each other in the most carnal way.

And sure he’s imagined you in this before, way more times than he’ll ever admit, on lonely nights on the jet, even when he scrolls through your Instagram profile (you’re the only account he follows and the sole reason he tolerates the app), and especially whenever he hears the lilt in your voice that you reserve only for him, but it wasn’t quite like this in his mind. 

“I can’t…I’m not gonna do that to you,” he swallows thickly, licking his lips and catching the way your eyes follow the movement. You’re… actually contemplating this, he realizes as he recognizes the sureness in the furrow of your brows, “Don’t. My team will find us and we’ll get out of here,” Spencer’s voice is hoarse and his eyes widen at the feeling of your fingers undoing the buttons on his purple dress shirt. You’re quick with it, and by the time you reach his midsection, he knows you’ve made your decision, “I don’t want to die, Spencer Walter Reid.”

“We’re not going to die!” he scoffs frustratedly, and the rest of the air in his windpipe escapes him as you press kisses down his exposed chest, “M’gonna…God. I’m gonna get us out of here, okay?” Your tongue darts out to lick at his skin, trailing back up towards his neck as you start to rock against his growing erection and he tries not to like it too much. Spencer’s large hands slap over the fat of your hips—the sound echoes in the quiet of the room; with the force he’s grabbing your skin, it's sure to leave marks.

“Think my way’s faster. You should multitask or something then.”

Your best friend’s nails dig harder into the fabric of your dress pants as he tries to stop you again, “We can’t do this.”

“I want to,” you nip at his Adam’s apple, “Come on, we’re adults. There's no one else I'd even entertain this thought with. Plus your team’s coming, right?” Your nose nuzzles at a sensitive spot behind his ear, and the kiss you leave there is tender, for him—not the camera in the corner of the room, “Please just play along.”

“You want this? Swear on it.”

Spencer’s pinky raises in the air, his other hand patting around the top sheet to try to find yours, and when he does it’s trembling. He holds it tight, for the audience inevitably watching and in an effort to calm you down—because the last thing he’d ever want to do is hurt you. But your eyes flicker to the screen that starts counting down from 10, and then back to his espresso ones that remind you not to show any fear, so you lock your pinky with his and clear your throat.

“I want you to fuck me, Spencer. I really do.”

Honestly, it’s an offer even he can’t refuse.

It’s awkward at first, clothes fumbling off of each other’s limbs and then he’s laying back just watching you stretch yourself out on his cock. Spencer doesn’t know where to put his hands—they’re rubbing soothing circles into your thighs that are wrapped around his waist. He’s just…watching you watch him, his eyes fluttering shut and your belly contracting as you start to move, stamping your feet onto the worn mattress to push and pull yourself on his pulsating length. The sound of skin against skin and the embarrassing squelch of your pussy almost shatters through the air and it makes you self-conscious, gripping onto his shoulders to anchor yourself back to reality. You’re seriously fucking your best friend in front of your ex-boyfriend and god knows who else, and it’s hard to catch your breath as tears begin to cloud your vision, the humiliation starting to catch up with your confidence.

“Fuck,” he hisses, clenching his jaw at the sound of your little cries, cunt swallowing him whole when you almost lose your footing, “Spence…I can’t…” He peeks an eye open to see you…feel you quivering on top of him with your gaze focused on the glass, “I’m sorry, I’m just scared,” you sniff. Spencer’s hand cups the soft of your jaw, wrapping around the junction of your neck soothingly, “It’s okay. M’here. It’s just me.”

He’s trying so hard to focus on consoling you, but you’re so tight and tense and it’s bad that plunging into you feels so good.

"I know. S'why I'm scared," you mumble, bottom lip pursed in a pout and then a strangled noise rips its way out of your throat. Spencer realizes he’s fucking up into you when he hears you wail again, palms against his chest as he drives up into your weeping cunt, “You can take it, right baby? M’gonna take care of you.”

Fucking you was like nothing his brain could’ve ever dreamed to imagine— the way you’re writhing above him, broken calls of his name asking for him to slow down. But now he’s made his decision too, that no matter how this ends, even if you both die or walk out of here and never speak again there’s nothing that can take away the divine image of your body going limp as you cum for the first time with a “Yes!”

The screen still flashes red in your peripherals a while later signaling the end of the session. Neither of you pay it any mind with you face down almost eating the stuffing from the lone pillow on the bed and his eyes fixated on the globes of your ass as they almost have a gravitational pull, vibrating along his dick when he yanks your hips back to meet his. A whine slips past your lips, your eyes meeting the glass and watching your best friend ruin you in the reflection. His hair is wild with his efforts, pressing down the small of your back and yes, maybe for once it’s nice to let Spencer make the decisions for the both of you. 

Especially if they make you feel this good.

“Eyes on me, baby. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

You wonder when the BAU will get to you both, and if they do, you selfishly hope there’s a chance Spencer will get to cum too. 

He’s really breathy as he instructs you to look at him again, the smell of your combined musk in the air, sweat and slick being shared between your naked bodies. His voice is a low timbre you’ve never heard before, but your eyes are still busy watching him thrust into you with intention as if this already isn’t a memory you’ll forget. You find yourself extra pretty when he makes your tits swing like this, half-caught in a daydream of Spencer hitting a particular spot and how happy you look to get fucked while being watched by a psychopath, the grin on your face fitting someone who deserves to be institutionalized. You’re enjoying this more than you should, reveling in the attention and arching your hips so he can hold onto them better.

“You’re shaking so hard...” he breathes, noticing the uncontested bliss that’s taken over your face, “You like this huh? Like watching us?”

Nodding your head and biting your lip, you moan, “Like ‘em watching you fuck me. Your cock feels so good…” Your words are invigorating, making him tighten his hands around your neck as you go dizzy with pleasure.

"That's my girl," he smirks.

By the time your eyes roll to the back of your head for a second time, neither of you notice the number of lasers pointed at your bodies increasing, or the sound of the sirens outside the locked door. Spencer’s too far gone, hands interlocked around your throat to pull your head up towards his, moaning into your mouth as his cock stutters, stuffing you to the brim just as the door bursts open.

Came right in time.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

ma1dita's monster mash is open for requests until 10/12 :)

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

I am Sage's mother, better known as Nana. I adopted Sage after my son died when she was still a baby. She's been through six foster homes by then, but we loved her and she blossomed into a joyful, lively girl who made music and art.

Puberty began and COVID hit, and she was treated for depression and anxiety, at times very severe. Her teachers shared any concerns with me so her treatment could be adapted.

The transparency ended in August of 2021 when Sage started high school. She started a public high school and she told me that all the girls there were bi, trans, lesbian, emo and she wanted to wear boy's clothes and be emo. Because I saw it as just a phase, it was fine with me.

But at school, she told them something different: she was now a boy named Draco with male pronouns. Sage asked the school not to tell me, and they did not tell me even though I informed them of her mental health history and medication. If I had known, this would be a much different story.

She was terribly bullied. No one told me. But boys followed her, touched her, threatened violence and rape. Something happened in the boy's bathroom but for two days, the school told me nothing. They kept meeting with Sage alone and she became so distraught they called me to pick her up.

That evening, I found a hallpass labeled 'Draco' and Sage told me she was identifying as a boy, and that her counselor said she could use the boy's bathroom. She'd been jacked up against the wall by a group of boys. She was crying, terrified. I said just stay home, we'll figure it out. That was my last conversation with Sage for five months.

The night she ran, she thought, to a young friend she'd met online, she left a note saying she was scared of what would happen if she stayed. The sheriff, FBI, search dogs were called in. I dropped to my knees in prayer. Nine days later the FBI found her in Baltimore. My baby had been lured online, sex trafficked by DC then Maryland. She was locked in a room, drugged, gang raped and brutalized by countless men. It was night. The FBI told us to pick her up in Maryland the next morning.

We packed our cars with blankets and stuffed animals and arrived by 8 am, but we were told we couldn't see her, and were summoned before Judge Robert Kershaw late that afternoon. They didn't even tell Sage that we came for her. We finally entered the courtroom and Sage appears on a huge Zoom screen from a prison cell. She looks tiny and broken, and I cry out 'I love you Sage.' Sage responds 'I love you too, Nana.' But attorney Anisa Khan rebukes us. She is a 'he' and his name is 'Draco' not Sage. We were floored.

Khan accuses us of emotional and physical abuse, that we are misgendering her, even though we just learned she claims to be trans and we're willing to use any name and pronouns to bring her home. My husband was so tearful he kept forgetting the new pronouns, so the judge had the bailiff remove him from the courtroom. I was pleading for my child to be returned and treated for her unspeakable trauma. Judge Kershaw told me, if I use the word 'trauma' again, he would throw me out too.

For over two months, he withheld custody. He housed Sage in the male quarters of a children's home. Sage told me she was the only girl and repeatedly assaulted. She was given street drugs by the other kids and Khan told her she didn't care. She just wanted to win the case and all the way to the Supreme Court if necessary. Khan tried to prove abuse, but we were eventually cleared by both states of all charges.

Sage later told me Khan had told her to lie that we hit her. Khan even had Sage's school counselors testify against us, though they barely knew Sage and they didn't know us at all. Khan told my precious child I didn't want her anymore. I found out Sage never received any of the letters I sent her.

Sage ran from the Children's Home and disappeared for months. They told me she might already be gone forever, but I couldn't give up and I finally found a tip on her social media that led the marshals to her in Texas. She had been drugged, raped, beaten and exploited. This time I was able to be with her for the traumatic rape exam, and to bring her home.

Back in Virginia, she entered the mental health facility that Judge Kershaw had ordered, as it would affirm her as a male. The therapist began pressuring her to have her healthy breasts removed. Sage was too scared to protest, but she asked me to secretly buy her girl's clothes because she wanted to be a girl, but keep them in the car. It took a kind lawyer, Josh Hetzler to secure her discharge.

After almost a year. Sage was finally home. Safe. Alive. Sage is receiving professional trauma care. The first trafficker has already been convicted. Sage has nightmares, panic attacks, rape-related medical issues, but there's hope. I tell her she's not broken she's just scarred. And part of that hope is that in courageously sharing her story, others will be saved.

Sage said she doesn't know who she was back then. She wasn't a boy, she just wanted to have friends. But her school, the judge, the attorney and the doctor were all blinded by their ideology. The consequences for Sage were unspeakable.

Please don't let ideology harm another child. Let parents do our jobs. We know our children best and we love them a million times more.

Thank you.

==

Jesus Christ. This girl was exploited by everybody, except for her parents, who were villainized for literally nothing. It's opposite world.

And the fact that everybody with authority prioritized stupid shit like pronouns and trying to coax her further down into a fake identity, even against her will, and other ideological bullshit over her actual wellbeing is disgraceful.

The judge and attorney need to be disbarred, the therapist stripped of their license, and everyone who conspired to separate Sage from her parents fired.

[landosjpg]

the black dog | ln

the one where you watch your ex boyfriend walk into some bar called the black dog.

lando norris x gender-neutral!reader

word count: ~1.9k

warnings: angst!!!!, happy ending so fluff as well, brief discussion of bad mental health, lando is a bit of a prick at some point, exes to lovers, one sexual innuendo (?)

note: based on this request and obviously the black dog by taylor swift. this is one of my favorite taylor songs EVER i got so excited when i got this request. i also love a good angsty, heart-breaking fic so giving this a happy ending was a bit harder than it should’ve but i hope you enjoy it!

“stop that,” you softly cooed, your hands cupping his cheeks to try and make him look at you.

the past few weeks had been harsh on him, and you could feel how every self-deprecating comment just made him drown deeper into his own head. you just wanted the best for him.

he didn’t answer. instead, he looked away again, trying his best to avoid your gaze at all costs.

“it’s just been a bad weekend, baby. next one will be better,” you added.

“stop with the optimistic bullshit,” he rudely said before you could add anything else to try and cheer him up.

you knew he was angry —rightfully so —after missing on a potential win only a few days before, but you couldn’t just sit and watch him bring himself down anymore.

“it just hurts to see you like this,” you mumbled.

“it’s hurting you?” he snapped, his tone accusing. “why do you have to make everything about you, every single time?”

as his words escaped his lips, he gently pushed you off his lap, immediately getting up from the couch.

“i’m just saying…” you tried to explain, although his words hurt more than you would ever admit out loud.

“i don’t care what you’re saying,” he cut you off. “it’s always the same story with you. the world doesn’t fucking revolve around you, you know?”

your lips parted, intending to defend yourself, but no words left your mouth. not like lando would had let you speak, anyway.

“this is the last thing i need right now, i’m done here,” he grumbled.

you froze at the tone of his voice, not having heard him talking to you like that ever before. and you didn’t do anything to stop him when he picked up his jacket and walked to the entrance of your apartment, announcing his departure with a loud slam of the front door.

he just needed time, you told yourself.

but he didn’t call, and you didn’t wake up to a simple apology in your messages and him asking to see you as you were used to.

and it had been forty-two days since he had stormed out of your apartment and, unknowingly to you, vowed to never talk to you again.

and after six weeks of no contact, you still missed him.

lando had been more than just your boyfriend, he had been your best friend for as long as you could remember; he was there, in every little memory you had.

you had always been the first person he ran to whenever the smallest thing happened, and for the past few weeks you had to settle for watching his life go on without you through pictures and media outlets.

and as much as your friends tried to tell you that it would get better, every morning without him just got harder than the previous one; used to having his arms wrapped all around you and his curls tickling your neck, waking up in a cold bed was certainly something you weren’t quite fond of.

however, he seemed to be moving on.

that’s what you thought as you sat in the darkness of your room, the only light illuminating the space being the dim glow of your phone’s screen as you intently watched the small, blue dot moving on your screen.

he had forgotten to turn his location off.

like every weekend since the break up, you watched him walk into some random bar in a different city, piercing a new, deeper hole in your heart every time. and you couldn’t help but hope that they played your song each night, that even the smallest thing reminded him of you.

but instead, every morning you woke up to a new picture of him leaving the place with some girl wrapped around his arm, while you could barely wear your favorite clothes because they took you back to a memory you shared with him.

you didn’t understand how he didn’t miss you, how he could be doing so good without you by his side.

୨୧

it had never been his intention to walk out of your life that afternoon. but when the anger washed away, all he could feel was shame.

guilt, for how he had talked to you when all you wanted was to help. and he wasn’t sure he could ever look at you in the eyes without the feeling overfilling his senses. so, instead, he did what he knew best: he ran away.

and the only thing that could take you off his mind for some time was drowning his own pain in alcohol every weekend, end the night with some girl’s legs wrapped around him.

but that night, he froze as the first notes of your song started playing; the song that had started playing when you got in his car the first time he took you out on a proper date. and the upbeat music took him right back to that day.

he could still picture the sight of your teary eyes as you walked into his apartment after another failed date —the guy hadn’t even showed up; the sound of your sobs as you buried your face on his chest, looking for some comfort, still making his heart clench.

“you deserve better,” he had whispered into your hair, placing a soft kiss on top of your head. “someone who’s willing to give you everything.”

“i’m tired of searching,” you had simply mumbled, feeling hopeless after so many disappointments.

“maybe you don’t have to search for it,” he had said before he could even think about his words. “maybe it’s been right in front of your nose all this time.”

at the underlying confession of his words, you raised your head from his chest to look up at him.

“hm?” you hummed.

lando had always liked you; but he had also been scared of you not reciprocating his feelings, of your friendship being ruined by the love he had for you. however, he had been completely oblivious as to the way you had always looked at him.

but that time, he caught the glint in your eyes as his gaze met yours, and so he confidently asked:

“can i take you out on a date?”

he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he saw you crack a smile, relief washing all over him.

“i would love to,” you mumbled.

he smiled at your reply, his thumbs coming up to wipe the remains of your tears.

“tonight, then?” he softly kissed your cheek before you nodded and wrapped your arms around his frame, unknowing of how the turn your relationship would take after that night.

he looked down at the girl who was grinding herself against him, trying to ignore the memories flooding his mind; but her eyes didn’t sparkle the way yours did as the song played. and he knew she just wouldn’t get the jokes he was so tempted to make, the ones that would send you into a fist of laughter despite of the many times you had heard them before.

in short, she simply wasn’t you. and he knew he wouldn’t ever feel that way with someone else.

“excuse me,” he said, trying to push her away from him.

he made his way out of the bar pushing in between the sea of people, his phone clutched in his hand the second he stepped a foot outside.

he sighed as he looked at his screen, the cool air making him come back to his senses; he couldn’t just text you. not after ghosting you for over a month.

but he missed you, so what else could he do? how else could he apologize for what he did?

୨୧

you turned around in bed as you felt the room being illuminated again by the screen of your phone, a message interrupting your attempt to sleep.

your heart skipped a beat as you saw his contact picture, followed by a simple “are you up?”. you couldn’t believe your eyes, anxiety coursing through your veins as you stared at the message.

“you still have read receipts on”

“say something, please”

fuck, of course. and you had been staring at his text for five minutes straight.

“what?” you simply typed with shaky fingers; it was dry, yes, but you were still hurt about how things ended between the two of you.

his answer came almost immediately: “just wanted to apologize” it read.

but nothing could’ve prepared you for his next message, asking if he could come over instead of doing so over text.

you hesitated for a few minutes; you knew you shouldn’t, but you needed closure as well.

so, naturally, you accepted.

you anxiously padded around your house as you waited for him, biting your nails as you imagined every possible scenario that could happen. five. ten. fifteen minutes, and then you heard a knock on the door.

the door opened slowly, revealing the figure of your ex-boyfriend.

you stepped aside and let him in, closing the door behind him and turning around with your gaze fixed on the floor. the silence was deafening,and the situation felt awkward.

“can i have some water?” lando tried to break the ice, his eyes fixed on you as you simply nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

when you came back only a few minutes later with two glasses on your hands, he had made himself comfortable. you walked to the couch and sat next to him, with a considerable distance between the two of you.

“i just…” he broke the silence again, his voice low and slightly nervous. you didn’t dare look at him yet, so you looked down at your lap, where you fidgeted with your fingers.

you heard him sigh as he chose his next words carefully.

“i never meant to hurt you, or ruin what we had,” lando started. “it was a few bad weeks, and i know i shouldn’t have, but i took it all out on you. and then i didn’t think i could even look you in the face after what i said.”

you looked up at him, your eyes starting to water as you took in his words.

“you could’ve just explained yourself, i would’ve understood,” you replied with a thin, vulnerable voice.

“i was ashamed of myself after the fight and i thought running away from all of it would be the best,” he said as his gaze met yours. “truth is i haven’t stopped thinking about you for a single minute all this time. i really miss you,” he almost whispered.

“i…” you stuttered.

“i get it if you can’t forgive me,” his voice broke mid-sentence.

“‘s not that,” you mumbled, a few tears running down your cheeks. “just wish it didn’t take you this long.”

you noticed his pained expression as he noticed the tears on your face, quickly whispering a soft “c’mere” as he opened his arms. you sighed and scooped next to him, letting his arms wrap around your frame in a comforting hug.

“i’m really sorry,” you heard him whisper into your hair before he planted a gentle kiss on top of your head. “i won’t leave again.”

“promise?” you murmured, snuggling closer into his embrace.

“promise, baby,” he answered in the same low voice.

you nodded slightly, your eyes fluttering close as you took in his scent and the way his grip on you tightened, an oath to never let you go again.

[amirasainz]

Charles Leclerc (16)

Little Sunshine

He won in Monaco,he wins in Monza

The birthday disaster

Hospital nights

In the Grip of Obsession

Under the Spotlight

Leclerc family dinner

Leclerc summer

Bound by Obsession

One day in Mexico

A Day on the Riviera

Obsession

The Court is yours

A new chapter

Independent, but Loved

Coming Home to Monaco

Composing Love

Nothing’s scary when I'm with you

The Nurse and her Racer

Carlos Sainz (55)

Hot Laps

Hyperactive night's

Goddess

Dancing through the night

Her protector

Max Verstappen (33)

Pride and Prejudice

Just a dream

A Birthday for a queen

Forbidden Love

Keeping her away

Lewis Hamilton (44)

Daddy's little love

Moments Like These

Dark Red

A father's comfort

Puppy love

A Loving Night In

The greatest titel of them all

Love has no age

Dogs, Bikes and Free Rides

Sweet Confusion

George Russell (63)

Through sickness and health

Brasil, o quanto eu amo

Lando Norris (4)

Little Norris

The Brit and the Croissant

In my arms

Golden

Proud big brother

Big Brother to the Rescue

Big Brother to the Rescue Part 2

Stealing her attention

Behind the screen

Lights, Camera and Flashes

Feverish and Clingy

Different Love Languages, Same Love

Burning Jealousy

Oscar Piastri (81)

The quiet kind of love

Secret marriage

The Piastri family

A silent connection

Ride or Die

Quiet Hearts, Loud Paddock

Pierre Gasly (10)

The Brit and the Croissant

Learn his lesson

Oliver Bearman (87)

Two for One

Schoolboy-Crush

Vegas weeding

The Ollie effect

Driver!reader

The RedBull Princess

The first victory

Just Ken

Obvious (team principal reader)

The boyfriend

Broken arm

Blood runs thicker than Water

Rain

Umbrella

F1's Darling

The Heat of Qatar

The greatest prank of all time

Princess of Qatar

Always have her back