#second-hand fitness gear

[docareto]

How to Set Up a Home Gym Without Breaking the Bank

Setting up a home gym is a fantastic way to stay fit and healthy, especially if you’re short on time or prefer the comfort of working out at home. At Docare, we understand the importance of staying active without having to splurge on expensive equipment. Here’s a straightforward guide to creating your own home gym on a budget.

Visit this Link:

https://tinyurl.com/shomry

[gornackeaterofworlds]

Put those smelly feet away

Click for unfuzziness

[gallusrostromegalus]

I was raised agnostic and tend to remain ambiguous on theological matters.

-but my house has a porch on the second story that affords me a terrific view of my neighborhood and the Colorado Front Range and I was partaking of some peace before the 4th Of July Finger-Loss Festivities begin, and I have had a

~*Spiritual Experience*~

I just watched my neighbor try to unload an actual wooden pallet that had to have been forklifted into the back of his insecurity pickup worth of fireworks.

Except that he does not have a forklift in his garage.

He does have so much sports memorabilia and cardboard boxes of unsold MLM Merchandise and patriotically themed camping gear and posters of women in bikinis and flags of suspect political organizations in his garage that there is only BARELY enough space for the fireworks and certainly none for his truck.

So he had to unload the individual boxes of recreational explosives from the back of his truck and stack them in the minimal space he had cleared by hand. This is a tedious and time-consuming process as this neighbor has purchased a wide variety of recreational and locally illegal explosives instead of many of just a few types, so the individual boxes are rather small.

He begins, and this is crucial to what happens next, by cutting apart the industrial-grade saran wrap his explosives dealer had so carefully wrapped his merchandise in, and discarded it unsecured on his lawn.

Where Outdoor Conditions sometimes happen.

His process for unloading the fireworks is to 1. Climb up through the gate into the bed of his pickup truck (a feat made unusually difficult due to the slope of his driveway, and this man's fascinating decision to wear the world's Siffest and least Flexible Denim Overalls. 2. Once in the pickup bed, he selects ONE (1) box from the pile He is apparently from a niche religious institution that doesn't believe in stacking things. 3. Carries it awkwardly around the palette that barely fits in the truck bed 4. His wife yells "Be careful!" when he nearly falls out of the pickup. 5. He Yells "SHADDUP!" back at her. 6. The Large German Shepherd barks from inside the house. 7. He yells "SHADDUP!" back at her too. 8. He sets the (1) box down on the gate 9. Slowly and awkwardly climbs out of the pickup bed 10. picks the box back up, and carries it into the garage.

Question: Aren't you going to help this poor man? Answer: Absolutely Not.

There's four military veterans, MANY dogs, and several people with dementia in this neighborhood, all of whom are terrified by this chicanery every year and many neighbors have repeatedly asked him to maybe do the fireworks somewhere else. (This is the Eighth Year Running he's held a major demolition event in his driveway, and for those of you who can do math, you may be able to guess the precipitating incident to this little ritual) Additionally, I live in Colorado, a state marginally less prone to spontaneous and catastrophic conflagrations than a rotting grain silo, but only marginally. Our recreational explosives laws are written accordingly.

I am in fact calling the Non Emergency line to report Fireworks violations, and reading off the brand labels to someone named Dorothy, who is gleefully totaling up a SPECTACULAR fine for my oblivious neighbor.

However, while I'm on the phone with Dorothy, I notice the wind begin to pick up. and by "Notice" I mean "The Industrial Saran Wrap he left on his Lawn earlier is suddenly swept up about 100 feet into the air by an updraft intense enough to make my ears pop" And by "Pick Up" I mean "I look up to see the sky has turned a fun and exciting shade of glass green, and the bottoms of the clouds are bumpy and rounded, and the overall effect is not unlike looking up through the bottom of the cup at God's Matcha Boba Tea."

For those of you who do not live in places with Inclement Weather, these conditions mean "You have about 30 seconds before a Major Meteorological Event Occurs."

I move under the eaves. "Hang on Dorothy." I say, nose filling with Petrichor. "The show is about to be cancelled." "Oh, that doesn't matter!" Dorothy cheerfully informs me. "It's illegal for him just to possess those, no matter if he actually gets to set them off or not." "Terrific, because he's gotten maybe five boxes out of a hundred inside."

Sometimes, the weather gods are Merciful and give you a verbal warning, typically in the kind of thunderclap that makes your ears ring.

The Gods were not merciful today.

It's not often that I am in the time, place, correct angle or in a properly observational frame of mind to see this, But I got to see it today. Huh. I thought. I've never seen a cloud just DIVE for the ground before. Oh. I realized as it got closer. That's RAIN.

Sometimes, a thunderstorm will form in such a way that the rain that would normally be distributed over an area of say, five to tent square miles, is instead concentrated into an area of say, my neighborhood exactly.

So today, I was granted the rare privilege of being able to actually see the literal wall of water descend from On High and DIRECTLY onto my porch, my street, and my neighbor's truck, and his pile of unwrapped fireworks.

The sheer impact force of the downpour immediately scatters the teetering pile of fireworks boxes in the back of the truck, like the wrath of God striking down the tower of Babel. Boxes tumble, then are washed out of the bed of the truck by the deluge. Smaller Boxes are carried down the road in a little line by the stream forming in the gutter, like little impotent explosive ducklings.

My neighbor was definitely yelling something, but I could not hear what over the DEAFENING noise several million gallons of water makes upon high-speed contact with the earth's surface, but there was a lot of arm-waving and faces turning red as he went looking for the saran wrap that had probably blown to Nebraska by now, while his wife started disassembling the complex three-dimensional puzzle of interlocking material goods in search of a tarp. They do not have a tarp. They have one of those wretched Thin Blue Line flags though, and my neighbor jogs out in a futile effort to cover what's left in the truck.

Which is when the hail begins.

"HELLO?" Yelled Dorothy. "HI!" I shouted. "WE'RE HAVING SOME WEATHER!" "OH GOOD!" she shouts back. "WE NEED THE MOISTURE!"

I watch for a minute longer, but the loss was immediate and catastrophic- the hail is the size of marbles and dense and cares not for your pitiful cardboard and cellophane, ripping the boxes asunder and punching holes in the few things covered in plastic. The colors on the Thin Blue Line Flag are seeping all over the remains of that it was supposed to protect in a particularly apt visual metaphor. Not even the few boxes that made it into the garage are spared, as the German Shepherd escapes from indoors, and in an attempt to assist her humans, jumps directly into the small stack of not-yet-ruined boxes, scattering them into the driveway and deluge. She even picks one up so her humans will chase her around the yard, before dropping it in the gutter to be swept away.

So. I was raised Agnostic -but even I can recognize when God slaps someone upside the head and shouts "NO!" at them.

---

(If you laughed, please consider supporting my Ko-fi or preordering my book of Strange Stories on Patreon)

[neverendingford]

.

[fruitbodies]

oooooohhhh I knew the development of a motorbike clothing fetish was going to be inevitable, but good fucking GOD. I was not prepared for it to hit so hard so suddenly???

[gojosprettyprincess]

Tw - Katsuki is soo mean, rough sex, degradation n manhandling. Not proofread!

One thing about Katsuki, he's an impatient man, that's for sure. There wasn’t any “Katsuki can i try to ride you” or “pleaseee just let me do it by myself” none of that. He had enough of your shit.

He tsks mockingly, a derisive sound escaping his lips the moment his keen eyes detect that the rhythm of your alluring ass that’s bouncing on his cock becoming duller and slower. He's so fucking disappointed in himself for even giving you the chance to try and ride him.

How dumb.

What a waste of time.

He quickly grabs both of your supple asscheeks, his strong hands creating a sense of urgency as he firmly squeezes them, preventing you from moving away. He impatiently starts thrusting his hips up into you, entering you in one complete motion. The sudden force of his entire length, which you weren't even able to fit by yourself, invading your little pussy so easily made you squirm to quickly get a hold of his broad shoulders to steady yourself because you knew how fucking crazy he was when it came to with manhandling.

His crimson-red eyes locked onto your contouring features, swallowing up your adorable reactions with pure joy. He just loves bullying you like this. Katsuki was a wonderful partner, devoted, wealthy, and maybe not the most mature, but he was unquestionably aware of right from wrong when it comes to relationships. The only thing is, he’s just so so cruel and vulgar to you sometimes, especially during sex. Bakugou always had a huge ego and prideful personality so you can't say you were surprised before tangling yourself up with him.

When the early morning light streamed through the window, his routine began before even taking a bite of the breakfast you made, pumping your warm cunny full of cum before heading off to fulfill his manly responsibilities as a pro-hero. "Better keep my cum buried in this pussy, you got it?" he commanded sternly, his warm breath fanning against the delicate skin of your neck as you mewled at the harsh way the edge of the dinner table was digging into your poor abdomen. Crossing your thighs together so you could avoid any spillage of his sperm because you know he’d check when you go deliver his home-cooked lunch at his agency later in the day. And if you make one wrong move, you’ll be limping your way out of his agency.

Whether you like it or not, katsuki will always be mean when he’s fucking you. It’s a part of him, you’ve known that just by the way he acted. Always had an feisty attitude and angry issues with everyone around him but the difference is you fucking loved it, and of course he knew that, that’s why he indulges in it and constantly reminds you every single time how much of a horny little cock-whore you are, pussy slobbering uncontrollably all over his pretty cock like a nasty slut. The rim of your hole clinging onto his dick as if your life depended on it. It hasn’t even been five second since he walked through the door from work, still clad in his hero costume before his hard dick is nestled in his housewife's warm, runny sex.

Your pink panties slackly pulled to the side, revealing your tight hole for his vicious assault as he ruthlessly positioned himself to take advantage of your vulnerable state.

His gears and pants rubbing against the smooth flesh of your thighs, harshly marking it red. Poor Katsuki he couldn’t save a civilian from a villain attack today and now he’s so frustrated and mad so what better way to vent than abusing his pretty housewife’s comforting cunt? :(

“Tight fucking pussy, yer creaming all over me already. Bet you were thinking about my cock splitting you open the entire day, weren’t you princess?” He laughed tauntingly, his angry cock curving right into your g-spot making your toes curl in the air as his strong, big hands held an astonishingly tight grip on your waist to keep you off the floor while you bent over his marble counter. You always found it so sexy when Katsuki showed off his strength to you, after all, he’s one of the most strongest pro-heroes so of course he’d be unbelievably strong. You went crazy over it.

“Sukii– m’gonna fuck! Cum” you cried out, tears streaming down your eyes as his fat cock delved deeper into your core, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot over and over again, sending you into a daze as you lose your mind. “No, you fucking slut— always being such a greedy bitch. You’re not cumming until I’m ready to fill you up, ya hear me?” his tone was so serious, it sent shivers down your spine.

You quickly gripped the edge of the counter. Your soft, plush ass bouncing back against his hard pelvis with each forceful thrust. God, he loved the sight so much, he licked his lips at the delicious sight of the creamy mess you were creating, completely coating him and his balls with your juices. It made his cock throb against your walls at the lewd way your quirkless pussy was rightfully swallowing him in.

“Katsuki I–“ you stammered, struggling to find your words as fear washed over you. Your hole fluttered around him, you were seeing white at this point. Your inner muscles involuntarily clasped tightly around his length. You couldn’t help it, his cock was just so fucking long and thick, and well he knew how to skillfully use it that it made you become undone within five minutes. Your eyes bulged open with fear as the streaming white liquid from your cunt spattered onto his cock and thighs and onto his expensive marble floor. The action didn’t go unnoticed by him resulting in him quickly placing you down on the slick floor and violently smacking your fleshy ass, making it recoil against his touch as he groaned. “God, you’re such a dumb fucking slut, what did I tell you? Can’t even understand simple instructions that I give you”.

He swiftly extracted his cock from your soaked pussy and hoisted you over his huge shoulder before making his way to your shared bedroom. You cried out as your cunt twitched in anticipation as echoes of his firm, resounding spanks on your bruised ass reverberated through the room with each step he took, “M’gonna teach you a fucking lesson, better make sure this is the last time you fucking disobey me”.

[nereidprinc3ss]

i keep you clean; you surrounded me

in which husband!spencer reid spirals after realizing he can't be your daughter's hero forever.

angst, fluff warnings/tags: this fic is about spencer's past addiction, and how he's afraid it will impact his relationship with his daughter, conversation about alcohol, this is a fix-it fic for my life, ends on a hopeful/positive note, lots of self-loathing from Spencer, uses the phrase "shooting up", PLEASE do not read if this is going to upset you!! PLEASE!! fem!reader a/n: this felt healing in a way for me but that might not be your experience reading if you also have issues with a parent with addiction so please tread lightly and make the right choices for you. CHOOSE YOUR MENTAL HEALTH OVER MY DUMB FANFIC I CAN'T STRESS THAT ENOUGH!! and ily

“Daddy?”

Ada’s not asking for you, but you look to her anyway. She’s squeezed between you and Spencer on Rossi’s swing, and her cheeks are still feverish—remnants of a recent and rather hysterical fit of giggles. She has a glass of lemonade between her little hands (you’re trusting her with a big girl cup, if only because it’s not your glass or your house) and she peers into it intently. Her little grass-stained feet kick. Spencer pushes the swing back ever so slightly, for her entertainment. 

“Huh?”

She holds her glass up for him. 

“Our drinks are the same color.”

“They are,” he nods. “Do you like yellow?”

Ada shrugs. It’s exaggerated—one of her favorite moves as of late. “It’s okay.”

Spencer glances at you like he always does when he sees glimpses of you in your child, eyes sparkling as if her opinionated and bluntly honest nature is in any way reminiscent of you. 

“Yeah, I agree. Yellow is just okay.”

She leans against him and he’s quick to accommodate her, affectionately brushing his knuckles over your bare shoulder as he slings his arm across the back of the swing. 

“Daddy?”

“What, lovebug?”

You smile, letting your head fall back and your eyes close. The sun is warm on your face. 

“Mommy’s drink is red.”

Nothing gets past her. Rossi had pushed the drink into your hand almost the second you stepped through the door, insisting it would go well with lunch. It sits otherwise untouched on the glass table. 

Spencer hums. The swing rocks gently. 

“That’s because she’s not having lemonade like us. She’s having a grownup drink.”

“Oh.”

You think that’s the end of it, that she’s satisfied with the answer, until another moment passes, and her voice, sweet as the tinkle of little fairy bells, is posing a very loaded question. 

“Why don’t you ever have grownup drinks? Me and you always have the same.”

Spencer’s already looking at you, brows drawn as you sit up. Your eyes, open now, go wide, and you shake your head slightly to signal you have no idea how he’s supposed to respond either. 

His hand goes to Ada’s hair, gently scratching her scalp as his eyes dart over your face. You can see the gears turning in his head. This is one of very few things he clearly didn’t read about in any of the literature on raising kids when you were pregnant. 

“I… some people don’t like grownup drinks.”

It’s an inadequate answer, especially coming from Spencer—just this morning he explained to Ada why the sky is blue. Rayleigh scattering. Blue light scatters more than any other kind of light. Which then led to an impromptu lesson on oxygen molecules and other basic chemistry in the car on the way here. 

So there are standards. 

“Why not?”

You interrupt, unable to watch Spencer flounder any longer. “Ada, why don’t you go see what Henry and JJ and Uncle Dave are doing? That looks fun, right?”

You gesture down the yard to where JJ and Rossi are teaching Henry to play cornhole. 

She looks at you with big brown eyes—the set of them, the color—those are all Spencer.

“Can you and daddy come?”

You straighten out her dress and take the half-full glass from her little hands, setting it next to your own on the table. 

“In a minute. Go ahead.”

Spencer’s hand slips from her hair as she pushes off the swing and bounds down the yard. You make sure she arrives to her destination without incident, before scooting closer to your husband and taking his vacant hand. 

“Spence?” You ask quietly, leaning in to try and insert yourself into his eye line. He doesn’t look away from Ada. 

“That was bad.”

“It wasn’t. She doesn’t understand. It’s fine.”

“I didn’t—”

He looks down, lips pressed together, and your heart twists and drops like overripe fruit from the vine as you realize his eyes have glossed over. 

“Baby,” you whisper, relinquishing his hand only so you can rub his back. Your other finds his knee, drawing as close as you possibly can. “It’s okay.”

“How am I supposed to explain it to her?”

A tear falls, making a dark splotch on the fabric of his pants. 

“You don’t have to. She’s only five. I guarantee she’s already forgotten all about it.”

“I will. I’ll have to tell her one day. She thinks I’m perfect, how am I supposed to—”

He stops himself, voice tightening to a halt. You watch him hold back a cry like you haven’t seen in years. It’s an old, familiar ache for you. You can’t imagine how it feels for him. 

“Spencer,” you coo. “She adores you. She loves you so much. That’s never going to change.”

His nose twitches. 

“I’m going to disappoint her.”

“How? How are you going to disappoint her?”

“I think it’s pretty disappointing to find out your dad is a junkie.”

His tone isn’t particularly harsh but the words are like a slap anyway. 

“Spencer…” For a moment you don’t know what else to say. It’s not a secret that he’s ashamed of that chapter in his life, but you had no idea he was contending with this much self-loathing over it, even after all this time. It seems like such a distant point in the rearview mirror that the two of you almost never need to talk about it anymore. “You are not a junkie. It’s been, what—a decade?”

“I don’t want to have to tell her what drugs are, let alone that I... she thinks I’m the smartest guy in the world, and one day I’ll have to tell her that drugs are extremely dangerous, and I was shooting up for four months anyway. No matter how I try to explain it to her the ultimate takeaway is going to be that I’m weak and I wasn’t smart enough and she’s never, ever going to forget that. How am I supposed to—I can’t be a role model for her. I fucked up so badly.”

Your chest aches, somewhere deep and hollow, as he leans forward, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, only for a moment—before Ada shrieks and his head snaps back up. Henry is chasing her with a worm. Spencer watches on, tears still leaking from his eyes and expression otherwise neutral. It’s bittersweet to hear him express such deep insecurity about the thing he’s best at in the world, even as those parental instincts kick in and he’s setting aside his own feelings to keep an eye on her. He’s never trusted himself. He’s never seen himself the way you do. 

“Baby, you are her dad and she loves you. Her love for you is not contingent on your past. You are so, so good to her. That’s all she knows, okay? She doesn’t care what you were doing when you were 25. She cares about whether you’ll be home for dinner, and if you’ll play dolls with her, and if you’ll tuck her in. That’s all she needs to love you.”

JJ wrangles the kids and after a moment Spencer looks down again, brow furrowed deeply as drops like rain dot his lap, but he hardly makes a sound. You lay your cheek on his shoulder. “And until she’s old enough for the whole story, which involves a lot more violence than I am comfortable with her being subjected to right now, you don’t need to explain it to her. You have time.”

“She wants to know now.”

“She also wants icecream for every meal. But I can’t make her understand why that’s a bad idea. What she wants and what she needs and what she is capable of understanding are all different categories. I know you love answering all her questions, and you’re a really good teacher, but you can’t make her understand something as complex as addiction.”

Spencer sniffs. 

“Developmentally she’s only really capable of understanding the world as it exists in relation to herself.”

“Exactly. So give her some time, and give yourself some time.”

“What if she asks again?”

“Then… you say you don’t like how it makes you feel. And tell her to clean up her toys. Condition her to stop asking.”

Spencer stumbles over a teary laugh he hadn’t been expecting. You sit up straight, holding his face between your hands and encouraging him to look at you. His cheeks shine with tears, but you wipe them away tenderly. 

“You’re perfect to her,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to one cheek, “and you’re perfect to me.” He cups your elbow as you kiss the other and looks at you with so much sheer adoration you could get all choked up, too.

“Wow,” he sniffles, and takes a deep breath, pulling you into him, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Of course you do,” you mumble into his shirt, eyes fluttering shut as he presses three kisses to the curve of your neck where he’s buried his face. 

“I could be canonized as a saint and not deserve you.”

Sainthood. You ponder that. 

Saints have to live virtuously. They also have to be dead. 

You hold him a little tighter. You like him exactly how he is: technically imperfect. Probably not getting into heaven. Still venerable. Very much heroic. Alive, and with you.

“I’m really glad you’re not a saint.”

He chuckles. His hand slides up your back, and then side to side—a path it’s made time and time again which has only ever led you to wonderful, perfect places.

“Me too.”

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

blushing birthday

a/n: iihhh! first story in this slutty au! felt like this was a good place to jump off from. and also, i just wanna point this out because i nearly never do and perhaps some people don’t realise it, but if you have a thought, an idea, a wish or request in this au (or any other, my inbox is always open for requests) then feel free to click on my ask button and send it my way ♡

summary: “so, what I was thinking,” you tilted your head, “was that before I go give him his present, you guys could maybe help me prep a little bit, warm me up and stretch out my ass enough to fit his big fat cock. Would you guys like that?”

warnings: various x camgirl!reader, smut, porn au, college au, roommate!bucky barnes, roommate!steve rogers, roommate!curtis everett, ex!ransom drysdale, dilf neighbour!andy barber, reader's porn name is cherry blossom (UrLittleCherry), friends with benefits, happy hippie fun poly vibes, curtis’ birthday, partying, alcohol consumption, kissing, masturbation, impact play, fingering, toys, edging, clothed sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, multiple orgasms, anal, penetrative sex, unprotected sex

word count: 3953

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

sugar & spice au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist 

The last rays of sunshine for the day streamed in through the half-drawn curtains and cast soft shadows across your form as you sat cross-legged on your mattress. 

With your reach outstretched towards your laptop propped up on the chair situated at the foot of your bed, you clicked on the go live button and watched as a countdown appeared on the screen, overlaying your visage staring back at you as your gaze briefly flickered around to check your gear one last time. 

Thanks to your three roommates who’d insisted on helping you upgrade your setup, there wasn’t just one, but two cameras pointing directly at you. One angle to catch all of your frame and one zoomed-in to capture a perfect close-up between your legs. 

“Hey guys!” a warm smile swiftly dazzled your features as you watched the first few people jump at your notification, “good evening or good–, whatever time of day it is for you.” 

The messages in the chat started rolling in, some with usernames you recognised and some you didn’t. 

TheFrogo: Hi Cherry! How are you? Have you had a good day so far?

DrownByPussy: Omg you’re finally live! I’ve been hard all day knowing I’d get to see you today.

“Hi Frogo, yeah, I’ve had a pretty good day, but I’m hoping that it might get even better, because I’ve got something pretty fun planned for tonight,” your hands absentmindedly fidgeted along the length of your legs as you spoke, “so, today is a friend of mine’s birthday and–, wait,” you paused and leaned in closer to catch a better look of the scrolling messages, “I haven’t seen you write in the chat yet, but birthday boy, if you’re here, you better log off right now or you’ll ruin your surprise,” you warned, glancing straight into the camera, “I’ll give you five seconds get off,” a pointer finger then kissed each of your digits as you counted down, “five… four… three… two… one,” you squinted a moment longer before a giggle bubbled out, “okay, so now that it’s just us, I can tell you what I’ve got planned,” you switched up your seat, moving your legs to comfortably kneel on the mattress with your frame slightly turned at an angle for you to better see the screen, but retroactively grant everyone a view of the curve of your spine as the line swooped down over your waist and blossomed into the plush of your ass, sinfully on display in the pastel blue, mesh lingerie you wore, “there is one thing in particular that he has just been begging for… any guesses?”

A_B_Cunt_Destroyer: Hmm… is it a particular fantasy? A little bit of roleplay action? 

8inchStallion: Threesome? 

“Nope. All fun suggestions, but no.”

TittyCokeKingXXX: Is it to bang in public?

Cream314159: How about anal? 

“Cream! Yes! You guessed it!” you excitedly threw your hands up in the air, “it is anal that he’s been dreaming about.”

Ddadddy6969: I mean, who can blame him.

ItsBradBtch: Fucking same.

TearinYoBootyUp: Wish it was my birthday today so you’d let me fuck your tight little ass.

“So, what I was thinking,” you tilted your head, “was that before I go give him his present, you guys could maybe help me prep a little bit, warm me up and stretch out my ass enough to fit his big fat cock. Would you guys like that?”

KyleKyleson: Yes!

UrPervyDaddy398: Hell yeah, let’s get you ready to take that monster cock.

Casting a glance out of the nearby window, your eye couldn’t help but catch sight of the neighbouring house. It didn’t look like the divorced dad who resided there was home, though you still nevertheless searched for him. You weren’t completely clueless to his infatuation with you, though it had almost turned into a game, always trying to catch him peeping at you through the windows, or even taking it further by purposely wearing something skimpy when you’d go get the mail or other activities where you would know you’d bump into him. You didn’t judge him to be the type of man to ever really do anything about it, to actually reach out and grasp a wet dream of a girl so much his junior, but the teasing had become too much fun for you to stop, you were too far gone to draw the curtains closed now. 

As a quiet jingle sounded from your speakers, indicating that someone had tipped you, your gaze flickered back towards the computer screen. 

A_B_Cunt_Destroyer: Is that the underwear set I bought you off your wishlist? You look even more gorgeous in it than I imagined.

“Oh, thanks A,” you let your palms graze down over the thin mesh, feeling your pussy clench as your touch brushed over your nipples poking through the baby blue material, “yeah, it is. It matches the dress I’m planning on wearing tonight, so I thought I’d be cute.”

Call_Me_Sir_844: Turn around, Cherry. Let us see it from the back.  

“Yes, sir, of course,” you chuckled lightly before shifting around, purposely arching your back as you glanced over your shoulder. 

729AlwaysHard: How is your ass even real?

Like1OfUrFrenchGrls: Damn, that butt is just begging for a spanking.

Raking your touch down your sides, you smirked, “oh, you want me to spank my ass?” before the jingle of a tip echoed from the computer, “alright, baby,” and like a cat, your frame scooped down, gliding on to all fours and sticking your bottom high up in the air, “how many do you think? Let’s say, highest tipper gets to decide, but please, be kind, I still have to be able to dance the night away tonight.”

TittyCokeKingXXX tipped $50 – 10 spanks, with a paddle

BootyLover47 tipped $35 – 4 spanks

MrHansen tipped $100 – 6 spanks 

“Thank you guys,” you wiggled playfully for them, “and Mr. Hansen, wow, thank you so much!” you squeaked ecstatically, “well, I guess I better start counting then.” 

After each smack your palm landed on your propped-up bottom, the coinciding number rolled off your lips till your ass was tingling and sore for all your viewers to see. 

WinterIsCumming: Fuck, just seeing your little pussy through those panties… they’re soaked, aren’t they?

Gliding a hand down between your legs, your fingertips ghosted over the sheer fabric that clung to your core.

“They are, Winter,” you blinked up at the camera, “man, I wish you were here to give me a hand.”

NastyBoi: Show us that pretty little pussy, come on, don’t be shy now.

“You want me to take my underwear off for you? Take them off so that I can really play?”

And with the chimes of tips swiftly ringing in your ears, one of your fingers then hooked in the gusset and carefully peeled it to the side, letting it act as a frame as you momentarily teased them with just a glimpse of your glistening folds, before you slowly slid them off completely. 

Eventually, after your slick digits had gotten a chance to warm you up and tease you till you were practically buzzing on both of the camera angles that now displayed you, as it hadn’t taken you very long till you switched to a split screen, both your face frozen in a silent moan and your pretty holes drooling for attention pressed up against one another, side by side on the stream, your fingers then reached for a toy, the pretty glass dildo you had picked out just before the show.

You first popped the toy in your mouth as you flipped around and relaxed back against your pile of pillows. Letting your gaze flicker over the downright filthy comments rolling across the screen, you sucked on the toy for a bit before pulling it out and letting it float down south. 

“Fuck,” your eyes fluttered slightly as you rubbed the tip gently against your little rosebud, “oh, that feels so good.” 

Cream314159: Yeah, Cherry, tease that little ass like a good slut.

8inchStallion: Fuck, you’re gonna make me blow my load soon if you keep looking like that. 

Ddadddy6969: Has your fuck buddy really never had your ass before? Tbh kinda hard to believe considering what a whore you are for all of us. I love your anal shows, they’re always my favourite. 

“I know, daddy,” a light giggle tore through your form, “I’m honestly kinda surprised as well, but no, it hasn’t happened yet.” 

BongDong420: Wait, are you an anal virgin? Plot twist. 

“No, no, I’m not, I love anal,” you sucked in a gentle gasp as you let just the tip of the toy breach your tight opening, “I just haven’t really done it yet with too many different people. Actually, I’ve only done it with one so far, now that I think about it,” you swiftly shook your head and forced your eyes to flicker to the messages to rid your thoughts of your ex. 

Call_Me_Sir_844: Please open your mouth, I’m gonna cum!

“Oh, yes, please cum for me, sir,” you answered the comment and then let your lips part wide. As your tongue stuck out as well, a string of saliva soon dripped down as you waited, the spit colliding with your tits and running down your cleavage. 

A_B_Cunt_Destroyer tipped $550 – Don’t let yourself cum. Edge yourself so that you can be all drippy and dumb for him like a good little present should be. 

Since you and your roommates lived in a residential area too quiet for college ragers, some of the guys Steve and Bucky were on the football team with offered to throw the bash at their fraternity. 

Music blared, nearly making the entire house rumble, as you walked around the place, searching for the one of your roommates who the party was in honour of. 

Fiddling lightly with the hem of your silky dress as you peeked into the room where a rowdy game of beer pong was afoot, you still felt a little dizzy as desperation soaked through your ruined panties. 

Though, as you checked the kitchen, a bulky frame bumped into you, though it wasn’t just any run-of-the-mill frat boy, incapable of watching where they went, it was the very last person you wished to lay your eyes upon. 

“Y/n, hey,” the trust fund kid caught your arm before you could slip away. 

“Ransom,” you couldn’t help but clench your jaw as you tried to free yourself of his hold, “hello.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” you nearly scoffed as you squinted up at him, “it’s my roommate’s birthday party.” 

“Right, forgot you moved in with all of them, became just one of the boys…” as a beat of silence fell over him, he let his gaze then rake over your form, lapping up the soft blue material that draped across your curves, “you look good tonight, by the way.”

“I–…” your eyes fluttered shut as you let out a sigh, “Ransom, can we not? Just for tonight, can we not do all of this? Just let me be here, celebrate my friend, and then after that, if you so wish, we can get back to our regularly scheduled program. Just one night of peace, that’s all I’m asking for.”

His dark brows then furrowed as he cocked his head, “babe, come on–”

Cutting him off with a scoff, you spat, “I haven’t been your babe since you broke up with me.”

He had been all for landing a girl that was essentially a wet dream come true when it came to all of the sinful areas you were itching to explore with him, but what hadn’t been a part of his plans was having a girlfriend who wasn’t exclusively a slut for him and him alone. He’d told you to choose between him and your dirty little hobby, but to his surprise, you hadn’t even hesitated when you didn’t choose him. 

A low sigh then puffed from his lungs, “fine.”

Heatedly ripping your arm free, you echoed, “fine,” before turning on your heel and exiting the kitchen. 

Luckily, your search didn’t drag on too much further before you stumbled upon your celebrated friend. 

“There you are!” you exclaimed, your voice ushering Curtis’ head to twist in your direction, his glance shifting from the pool table before him. 

“Baby!” he swiftly threw open his inked arms and pulled you close, “hey!”

Hearing the heavy balls clank around on the table, you asked, “are you in the middle of a game or could I steal you away for a sec?”

“Nah, not this round,” he withdrew only ever so slightly, letting one of his arms stay draped over your shoulders, “what do you need?”

Pulling him with you in the direction of the wide staircase, you smirked, “I just have a present to give you…”

“Another one?” he blinked as you dragged him up the steps. 

“Well, you deserve the world, so yes, you get another one this year,” you offered him a warm smile. 

“Man,” he exhaled as you reached the upper level, “happy birthday to me,” a smirk spread across his features as he willingly let you push him into one of the rooms. 

It was a study room filled with long communal desks, tall bookcases and velvet armchairs. It was also, thankfully, vacant of any other partygoers. 

“Happy birthday, Curtis,” you didn’t waste any time, the door barely managed to slam behind you, before you yanked him in for a kiss. 

It took him a second before he caught up with your sudden actions, but as soon as he did, a gentle giggle rumbled from his intoxicated form and vibrated against your lips as he enveloped his long arms around your frame. 

Feet shuffling, your roommate soon bumped into one of the tables, lending him to half sit on it as you let your touch rake down his figure. Even with the swift and determined pace your desperation drove you to have, it still didn’t take that long for Curtis to be on the same page as you, and when your palm fluttered down to cup him through his pants, the tent twitched beneath your touch. 

At first, when you then withdrew from the kiss, Curtis instinctively followed your disappearing lips till he noticed your knees buckling as you sank down onto the floor. 

“This is so much better than losing at pool,” he gazed down at you between his thighs, nearly hypnotised as you tugged at his zipper.

“I’d sure hope so,” you nearly scoffed as you freed him of his binds, not hesitating to lean in and swipe your tongue silkily against the very tip of him as soon as you had the chance, “although, you know I never mind being a consolation prize.”

“Consolation prize?” his tone filtered through a soft groan as your fist enclosed around his base, twisting slightly as it jerked up to graze your mouth, “that’s not what you were last week.”

“Yeah, but that was different,” your giggle vibrated against him, “it’s okay, baby. Maybe next time we play at home you’ll get to win and show the others who’s boss,” you purred before your lips enveloped fully around his fat girth. 

When spit and slobber soon bubbled out and dripped down onto your chest from your efforts, you got back up to your feet. As you let the back of your palm wipe a bit of the mess from your chin, you twisted your frame around and let your spine melt back against this broad chest. 

As you felt Curtis’ fingers dig into your dress and hike it up, you rolled your hips back against him, nearly dizzy with want. Gliding a hand down between your thighs, you captured the sodden material, utterly ruined and clinging to your core, before you yanked it to the side, the leaky mess not yet ready to let go of the panties and spiderwebbing to where you pulled it to the side.  

Reaching around, your grip captured his cock once again as you tilted him to teasingly brush through your folds, your activities from earlier made it almost pathetic how sloppy you got him in a matter of seconds. 

As his lips pressed to your cheek in a hot kiss, you glanced over your shoulder to catch his eye and take in his reaction.

You didn’t warn him, nor say anything at all. Only a smirk glimmered on your lips as a forewarning before you led him away from the leaky entrance he naturally assumed you’d let him into, and instead arched your back and eased his slicked-up length into somewhere else. 

“Oh–, holy shit,” his eyes flickered down to affirm what you were doing before blinking up at you in the assumption that it was a mistake, “baby, you’re–”

“I know,” you smiled at the way his chest heaved at the realisation. 

“Wait, seriously?” 

“Told you I had another present for you,” your gloating grin softened at the moan that slipped out as you sank down just a little further upon his dick. 

His fingers dented both sides of your hips as you slowly let him feel more of you, “oh my god, you’re the fucking best…” 

It was shallow at first, gentle as you controlled the pace, though still mind-meltingly intense as you fucked back against him till your knees began to wobble, feeling each and every little detail of his stretch your little ass out. 

You felt his hot breath on the side of your face between the lazy pecks he planted there and occasionally veering further south to try and mark your neck up with his bites. 

“O-oh, fuck,” you whimpered when one of his inked arms snaked around to your front and stretched down to rub your clit, swollen and throbbing between the pads of his rough fingers. 

Since you’d backed away from the edge not too long before, its overwhelming return was swift and quickly rendered you a shivering mess in his arms as your rhythm came to a rest and the tight circles he drew over your puffy pearl pushed you into insanity. 

Eyes still shut as you were panting for breath, you felt Curtis pluck up your chin and tilt it so that his lips could seize yours. 

Though the blissful pause didn’t last very long before he manoeuvred you around, manhandling you into a new configuration, though all the while never slipping his cock out. 

His palm was heavy against your back as he whirled you around and bent you over the table. Cheek smooshed against the smooth wooden surface, the thunderous snap his hips then offered caused the desk to rattle beneath you. 

However, just as you sensed him begin to lose himself, burying his cock so deep inside of you that it caused you to see stars, the creaking sound of the door to the study swinging open sliced through the lewd harmonies already filling the room.

Even though you couldn’t really glance over your shoulder to see who it was that entered, the recognisable voices that then found your ears calmed your worries about why Curtis’ pace for some reason hadn’t slowed down in the slightest. 

“No, I’m not kidding, that’s really what–, oh,” Bucky’s sentence paused as soon he spotted you, “hello you two.”

You attempted to tilt your head against the table as the last of your roommates came into view, shut the door behind them and stepped closer. 

As you reached out a wobbly hand to grasp Steve’s, he sweetly caught it in his and chuckled at your cock drunk visage, “hey.”

“Hmm–, hi…” you attempted to greet them, Bucky swiftly bending down to briefly be at your height, letting his fingers brush some of your hair out of your face as Curtis’ efforts jolted your frame against the table at every feverish thrust. 

“Was wondering where you guys were,” Steve held onto your hand a little longer as his glance met the blissful gaze of the man who was balls deep inside of you, “I thought she already gave you her little present.”

“You knew?” Curtis tilted his chin, to which you tried to explain with a mumble, though one of your roommates didn’t hesitate to playfully ask you to clarify.

“I’m sorry what was that? You’re being too much of whore right now for me to understand you,” Bucky pressed a peck to your brow before straightening back up, “look, I would have totally told you man, but she threatened us not to ruin the surprise.” 

“Yeah, said that if you didn’t get to take a dip first, then none of us ever would,” Steve added. 

“Aw,” you felt Curtis kneed your bottom as he slammed into you, “you’d really have done that?”

“I did say you deserve the world, so yeah,” you managed to squeak. 

“It’s so cute how sappy birthdays make you,” Bucky smirked, “such a shame not one of us even hesitates to exploit it.” 

As one hand stayed glued to the curve of your ass, his thumb hooked in your underwear to grant not only him but the rest a perfect view of just how well you took him, Curtis’ other hand then stretched out to grasp the half-empty beer that Steve handed him, briefly taking a swig before handing it back. 

“Yeah, she really is just such a good little girl, aren’t you?” Steve found a seat on one of the nearby chairs. 

“Mhm…” you barely caught sight of how both of them palmed themselves for an ounce of relief. 

Sitting down as well, Bucky squinted cockily back at you as your hazy eyes briefly caught his, “what was that, sweetheart?”  

“I’m a–,” you blubbered as Curtis’ cock stretched you so wide that you even felt it press against the sweet spots in your throbbing pussy, “I’m a g-good girl–”

“Yes, you are, baby, that’s right,” Curtis chuckled warmly behind you before offering your ass a swift slap, “the fucking best.”

“Oh, oh! She’s so close to cumming, I can see it!” Bucky exclaimed in an almost mocking tone as your eyes began to roll, “just look at that face,” he nearly jumped to get closer, “so fucking pretty.”

“Come on, Y/n,” Steve leaned back in his seat and squeezed his hard-on as he stared at your fucked out form, “give us a good show. Make it good for the birthday boy.” 

Although, unfortunately, you were already too far gone by then to take any of their lewd comments into account as you tumbled over the edge, floating in the sea of your cheering roommates as a soundtrack. 

After your friend had emptied himself into your haven, he simply slid your panties back into place so that his cum could leak out of you for the rest of the party and ruin your sheer underwear completely, perhaps even give up entirely and run down your shaky legs for all to see.

Bending down to smother you back to life with kisses, you also felt Curtis’ arms tangle around you as he hugged you and slowly lifted you off of the table. 

“You wanna go down and dance?” his low timbre tickled the shell of your ear. 

“Just give me a second,” you breathed through your hazy smile as you fought to blink your eyes back open, “my legs will first have to start working again. Maybe you could take over the music for a second and queue up something slow,” you light-heartedly suggested with an airy chuckle. 

“Don’t you worry, baby,” Bucky smirked from across the table, “we’ll help keep you upright.” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[harrysfolklore]

driving lessons - op81

summary: oscar piastri teaches his girlfriend how to drive for the first time

MASTERLIST | JOIN MY PATREON

Life is full or ironies, and the fact that your boyfriend is an F1 driver and you don't even know how to drive is definitely one of them.

You always found it funny how someone who could navigate the most challenging race circuits with ease was dating someone who couldn't even navigate a parking lot, and was utterly terrified of being behind the wheel.

"I just can't believe you don't know how to drive," Oscar said while you were having dinner at his place one night.

"Excuse me, mister. Not all of us dreamed of driving cars for a living since we were kids," you teased, making him chuckle.

"Well, I guess I'll have to teach you how to drive, since that's what I do for a living."

You laughed at his enthusiasm, shaking your head. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm a lost cause when it comes to driving. I get anxious just thinking about it."

"Oh come on," he threw his head back, "I'll be a great teacher. We'll start slow, maybe in an empty parking lot. If it doesn't work out, we can stop anytime."

You thought about it for a second, you were at an age that it was downright embarrassing to not know how to drive, and maybe Oscar could actually help you face your fear of being behind the wheel.

"Okay," you agreed, "But you have to promise not to laugh at me, and we're not using a one of your McLaren luxury cars."

Oscar's eyes lit up with excitement. "Deal! We'll use something more… beginner-friendly."

"Beginner-friendly?" you raised an eyebrow, "Like what? A go-kart?"

"Hey, don't knock it till you try it," he laughed, "But no, I was thinking more along the lines of a nice, safe, regular car."

"Fine, but you have to be patient with me," you warned, pointing a finger at him, "I mean it, Oscar. One hint of frustration and I’m out."

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I promise. Scout's honor."

"You were never a scout," you narrowed your eyes playfully.

"Minor detail," he waved off your accusation, making you laugh, "Seriously though, I think you'll surprise yourself. You're tougher than you give yourself credit for."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," you retorted, but you couldn't help but smile.

"Maybe not, but it might get me dessert," he shrugged, leaning closer, "And maybe a makeout session before we head to bed."

You threw your head back in laughter, grabbing his cheeks playfully and pecking his lips a couple of times.

"You're a teenager," you said, shaking your head. "But fine, you get dessert, and you snogging session. Just remember, no racing techniques, I don't need to learn how to drift around corners."

"Drifting? In your first lesson?" he placed a hand on his chest in mock offense, "I'm hurt you think so little of me."

"When are we doing this again?" you said, moving to place your empty plates in the dishwasher.

"How about this weekend?" Oscar hoped off his stool, helping you clean around the kitchen, "I'll find us a nice, empty parking lot, and we can take it from there."

"Oscar Piastri, F1 driver with podiums to his name will teach his girlfriend how to drive in a parking lot," you said as you shook your head, "How ironic."

Saturday morning arrived and it was time for your first driving lesson. After breakfast, you and Oscar headed to the empty parking lot in a small, compact car for the lesson. It was far less intimidating than one of his sleek, luxurious cars.

"Alright, let's get started," he said, opening the driver's side door for you. You took a deep breath and slid into the seat, adjusting it to fit your height, Oscar got in the passenger seat and handed you the keys.

"First things first," he began, his voice calm and steady, "Let's go over the basics. Adjust your mirrors so you can see clearly, and get comfortable with the controls."

You nodded, following his instructions. Once you were settled, he guided you through starting the car and putting it into gear.

"Wait," you said before starting the car, "You're teaching your dummy of a girlfriend how to drive a regular car, okay? Don't expect some professional Formula 1 driver stuff from me."

"I promise, just the basics," Oscar chuckled, shaking his head, "We won't be racing anyone today."

"Okay, here goes nothing," you took a deep breath and turned the key in the ignition, the engine coming to life with a low hum.

"Great job," Oscar said with a small smile, "Now, put the car in drive and slowly take your foot off the brake."

You hesitated, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over you. "What if I mess up?"

"You won't," he said confidently, "And even if you do, it's all part of the learning process. Just take it slow."

You took a deep breath and lifted your foot off the brake. The car began to roll forward and for a moment, everything seemed fine until you pressed the gas pedal a bit too hard. The car jerked forward, causing you to panic and slam on the brakes.

"Whoa, easy there," Oscar said, "You're not at Silverstone, remember?"

"This is so much harder than it looks," you huffed, feeling your frustration bubble up, "How do you make it seem so effortless?"

"Years of practice and maybe a little natural talent," he winked, "But seriously, you're doing fine. It's all about getting a feel for the car, let's try it again."

Taking a deep breath, you eased off the brake and gently pressed the gas pedal. This time, the car moved forward smoothly, and you couldn't help but smile at the small victory.

"See? You're getting it!" Oscar encouraged. "Now, let's try a gentle turn. Just steer to the right."

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, turning it slowly to the right. The car responded, and you managed to navigate the turn without any major issues. But as you straightened out, you accidentally hit the windshield wiper lever, causing them to whip back and forth at full speed.

Oscar burst out laughing, and you couldn't help but join in, despite your embarrassment.

"Well, at least we know the wipers work!" he joked.

"Ugh, I feel stupid," you groaned, fumbling to turn off the wipers.

"It's okay, baby," he leaned in to peck your cheek quickly.

"Stop kissing me, I'll get distracted," you teased.

"Okay, okay," he said, composing himself, "Let's try another lap around the parking lot. This time, no wiper incidents."

You nodded, determined to get the hang of it. You practiced driving around the empty lot, getting more comfortable with each turn and stop.

As the lesson continued, you found yourself improving bit by bit, though there were still moments of frustration.

"Ugh, why won't this stupid thing go where I want it to?" you groaned, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"Hey, it's okay," Oscar said soothingly. "You're doing great. Just remember to relax your grip a bit. The car will respond better if you're not strangling the wheel."

You did as he said, and you found yourself driving more comfortably around the parking lot, improving with your turns and stops.

"You know," he said at one point, "If you keep this up, you'll be ready to join the grid next season."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Yeah, right. I'll leave the racing to you, thank you very much."

"Fair enough," he said, grinning, "It would be really hard to fight with my girlfriend for the championship."

"Is your girlfriend Max Verstappen and I'm just finding out?" you teased, making him laugh.

"That's a secret I'll never tell," he joked, causing you both to burst into laughter.

After a few more laps around the parking lot, you were feeling more confident behind the wheel. Until the final challenge of the day approached: parking the car.

"Let’s try parking," he suggested after a while, "Find a spot and take it slow."

You spotted an empty space and carefully guided the car into it, but misjudged the angle and ended up crooked. You groaned in frustration. "Why is parking so hard?"

Oscar laughed, shaking his head. "Well, parking an F1 car in the garage is definitely easier, no tight spaces to worry about."

"Ha-ha, very funny," you retorted, but couldn't help but laugh along with him, "Alright, let me try again."

You pulled out and tried parking again, failing to get the car neatly within the lines. "How was that?"

"Okay, so maybe parking isn't your strong suit yet," he teases, "Good thing you're not in a pit stop competition."

"Fine, I had enough for today," you said, unbuckling your seat belt, "I'm ready to go back to being your passenger princess."

Oscar laughed, getting out of the passenger seat and switching positions with you.

"You did great, really," Oscar said once he settled in the drivers seat, leaning over to kiss you, "I'm proud of you, you know. You really pushed through your fear today."

"And we're both still alive so that's a good thing," you joked, making him laugh, "Thank you for being a great teacher, baby."

"All I did was sit here and provide moral support, it's not like I know anything about driving or cars," he teased, "You did all the hard work."

You rolled your eyes with affection, leaning in to kiss him again.

"Maybe next time we'll try an actual road," he suggested.

"Or maybe you can teach me how to do a proper donut," you said, making him throw his head back in laughter.

"Only if you promise not to tell the team."

[tacticalprincess]

OMG a Hooters waitress reader x König is my brain rot rn it's so goofy and silly

it’s not unfamiliar that your customers can be flustered, stuttering messes — you always prefer that over the usual obnoxious shameless creeps — but it definitely doesn’t normally come from giant, burly men dressed in full military gear. though you can tell the men he’s surrounded by fit the second category, laughing childishly and shoulder checking him when you approach the table.

“why don’t you tell the pretty lady what you want, colonel? somethin’ on the menu, that is.”

he doesn’t speak much but to utter out an order of wings and fries, and you take pity on how nervous he sounds, the way his eyes keep wandering down to your full breasts under his mask, unsure where to look. it’s not like you mind — you signed up for this job, after all, and you pride yourself on your assets. but for some reason, being able to make this mountain of a man school-girl shy evokes an untouched confidence deep inside you.

you’re extra flirty nice to him the rest of their stay… until he spills his water all over you when you graze your hand along his giant arm, that is :( he apologizes profusely and tries to clean you up, before he realizes how inappropriate it is that he’s dabbing flimsy napkins into your soaked chest, and you excuse yourself to the back.

it’s as equally a pleasant as it is a disturbing surprise when he comes back the next weekend, sitting at the same spot, alone this time.

[bigboppa01]

Some would say that the Dodge Dart was not a "Muscle Car", or even a "Pony Car".

The term pony car is used to refer to sporty compact cars that are usually fitted with a performance small-block V8 engine.

Muscle cars, on the other hand, were bigger than pony cars, with the mid-size chassis and a big-block V8 under their hood.

Well - I might be compelled to say that one specific Dodge Dart was the best weapon ever built by Detroit!

Was the 1968 Dodge Dart is the ultimate muscle car?

The 1968 Dodge Dart's small chassis and short wheelbase make it lighter than its siblings, and power-to-weight ratio goes a long way fast with a factory 426-CID Hemi shoehorned into the small engine bay.

80 each were produced

Performance: 0 to 60mph: 3.6 seconds

Quarter Mile: 10.50 seconds

Top Speed: 140mph

Gear Box Differential: 4:88.1

[mapis-putellas]

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 2897

Warnings: body image issues. Quite detailed too, so be careful and look out for yourselves.

Summary: After you tear your acl, your mental health takes quite a severe hit. [Requested]

Notes: one more draft to go after this, then we is done for a little while

It was no secret that Alexia was the epitome of fitness. Every muscle seemed to have its place on her body, sculpted from years of dedication on the field and in the gym. She was renowned for her strength and endurance, and her intense daily workouts left her with abs sharp enough to carve ice. Her legs were powerful, capable of sprinting up and down the pitch for ninety minutes straight, and when she wrapped them around you, every single coherent though you had immediately leaves your mind. It was impossible not to admire her—no, to adore her for it. She didn't just look incredible; she carried herself with a natural grace, a quiet confidence that made her strength seem even more alluring.

She was up before the crack of dawn every morning, lacing up her trainers and stretching quietly in the hallway while you mumbled sleepy protests from bed. And she'd just smile, soft and affectionate, bending down to press a kiss to your forehead before heading out. Sometimes, she'd even sneak a second workout into her day, returning to the gym after training if she was feeling restless. It was her way of clearing her mind, finding her center amidst the stresses of her intense schedule. Her body was her temple, her mind, a fortress—and she was diligent in caring for both.

You were in good shape, too, of course. It was a necessity as a professional footballer, but you didn't feel the same love for exercise as Alexia did. To her, fitness was a passion; to you, it was a means to an end. You'd lace up for runs, lift weights, and do the drills, but it was all about maintaining strength for the game, not about striving for the chiseled perfection that Alexia seemed to attain effortlessly. You had some definition—your muscles were toned in places, and you were proud of the fitness you had. But you didn't have a six-pack, or the rock-hard thighs and sculpted arms that Alexia did. There was softness to your body, a gentle curve that felt miles away from the physique she held herself to.

You'd grown to accept that, too. Sure, some days, you'd catch a glimpse of Alexia in her workout gear, fresh from a morning session, muscles rippling under her taut skin, and you'd feel a pang of envy. But it wasn't enough to change how you viewed yourself. You might not have the carved-out, intensely toned build that she had, but your body was yours, and that was enough. You nourished it, rested it, treated it well. Alexia adored you for who you were, and she'd always made it abundantly clear that you didn't need to change a thing. So, you held onto that, content in the comfort of her steady admiration and your own quiet acceptance.

And then it happened.

*

Tearing your ACL was more than a setback. It was a wrench thrown into everything you knew about yourself, your career, and your confidence. The physical pain was intense, yes, but the mental toll? That was a different beast altogether. The moment the diagnosis came, you were handed a new path, one that demanded you start over, essentially relearning how to walk, run, and move in ways that had once come effortlessly.

Your recovery plan was strict. "Get stronger," the physical therapist had told you. "Anything you can do to support that knee." The aim was to build strength before agility, to make sure that when you eventually stepped back onto the field, your knee would hold up. And to build that strength, you needed more muscle.

So you followed the program. A different nutrition plan meant eating more, much more than you were used to. It was a meticulous routine of high-protein meals and heavier weights, adjusting your body to a new rhythm. The change in your body was immediate and striking. Muscle mass took time, but the weight gain didn't wait for anyone. It wasn't just muscle; some of it was fat, too. Your once lean and toned frame grew softer, more solid, and the athletic lines you'd been so familiar with blurred into something different. Every time you caught yourself in the mirror, the difference seemed glaring.

You tried to remind yourself that it was part of the plan, and in some ways, it was working. The muscle you gained gave you the stability you needed in your knee, and as you got stronger, so did your confidence in moving. But it was a far cry from what you were used to, and the internet, naturally, had a field day with it. Photos started surfacing, snapshots of you out and about or in training, and the comments came fast and merciless. Every little flaw was picked apart: a fold in your chin, the curve of your waist, the size of your thighs. Strangers felt entitled to judge you, to dissect every inch of your body in ways that left you reeling.

It got to you. How could it not? The comments slipped into your thoughts, lingering like a shadow every time you ate, trained, or even looked at yourself in the mirror. Even the smallest gestures became tainted by this newfound self-consciousness. In the shower, you'd notice the places that felt softer. In the gym, you'd feel acutely aware of the way your body didn't look like it used to. And it followed you home, creeping into the space you shared with Alexia, a place that had once felt like a sanctuary.

Alexia, in her usual affectionate way, was none the wiser. She treated you exactly the same, her hands roaming freely over your body with the same warmth and adoration she'd always shown. But every time she touched your waist, your stomach, or the soft flesh of your thighs, you'd feel a pang, a quiet discomfort that you tried desperately to ignore. You told yourself it was silly, that she hadn't even noticed the change. But each time her hands grazed over the parts of you that felt different, the ones the internet was so quick to call out, you couldn't help but brace, almost flinch.

When Alexia would lie beside you on the sofa, her head resting on your thighs, the weight of her presence suddenly felt heavy, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin. You'd struggle to enjoy the moment, fighting the urge to shift away, to hide. Or when she'd wrap her arms around you from behind, resting her head against your shoulder, and you'd feel her fingers press softly into your stomach, all you could think of was whether she felt the difference. If she noticed the extra softness there.

Then, there were the times she wanted to be closer, when her hands wandered a bit further, her gaze lingering with the kind of adoration that used to set you at ease. But now, each brush of her fingertips over your skin, every glance that she stole felt like a magnifying glass on every insecurity you'd grown to harbor. It was as if the comments you'd read online were imprinted on you, and every time Alexia's touch lingered, they echoed in your mind.

You tried to bury it, to keep your discomfort hidden beneath the surface. Alexia never let on that she'd noticed anything different; if she did, she was remarkably patient, waiting for you to open up. But you couldn't bring yourself to admit the insecurity gnawing at you. She didn't seem to mind, so why should you make her aware of something that, to her, didn't exist? So, you hid it, smiled through the lingering self-doubt, and tried to keep up appearances.

But it was exhausting, living in constant vigilance, battling an inner voice that refused to quiet. And as much as you wanted to shake it, to silence the nagging insecurities, they lingered, shadowing your every thought.

*

Alexia's gaze was intense as she leaned over you, her body pressed to yours, the warm weight of her presence grounding you in place as her lips moved insistently against yours. It was a familiar rhythm, one you usually found yourself melting into. Normally, her touch—firm yet gentle—would have had you feeling nothing but desire, lost in the anticipation that only she could draw out in you. But tonight, you found yourself bracing against her, your mind elsewhere as self-doubt seeped into every crevice of your thoughts.

In the months since your injury, your body had changed. The rehab program had brought new strength, but also unexpected curves. You felt softer than before, and no amount of repetition to yourself that it was necessary, even healthy, could shake the unease when you looked in the mirror. Stretch marks that had once been barely visible now mapped their way along your thighs and hips, undeniable reminders of the ways your body had adjusted, healed, and grown. But rather than pride, you felt exposed, vulnerable, as though these visible changes were flaws rather than symbols of resilience.

Alexia's hands moved purposefully down your sides, her fingertips grazing the hem of your shirt. The familiar touch that once filled you with security now left you tense. She had been so patient, so understanding, never pressing you to go further. You hadn't made love since before the surgery. First, it was because you couldn't physically handle it. Then, as you started healing, there was always some excuse. You'd kept her at arm's length, letting yourself be the one in control, making sure her attention stayed solely on her own pleasure. You'd hoped it would distract her, keep her from noticing the hesitation that lingered in your own movements.

But tonight, Alexia's determination to close the distance between you was clear. Her hands, more insistent than before, slid up the curve of your waist, drawing you closer, pulling you back into the intimacy you'd once shared without question. The air felt heavy with the unspoken, and you felt the edges of your own defenses starting to fray, your discomfort edging into something you couldn't suppress.

When she tugged at your waistband, her intention was unmistakable, and your body instinctively pulled back as your voice rose, pleading, "Stop." It was barely more than a whisper, but the tremor in your tone cut through the haze between you, and Alexia stilled immediately. Her hands halted as she pulled back, her gaze filled with a mixture of concern and yearning. Her breathing was still ragged as she leaned back, moving to her knees, studying you with furrowed brows. The way she looked at you, raw and concerned, was almost too much, the shame twisting inside you like a vice. She asked gently what was wrong, her voice softened, but the words sat heavy in the air.

Your hands flew to your face, covering your eyes in an effort to hide the turmoil, but you felt her move closer, her presence warm and unwavering. Her hands reached for you, wrapping around your shoulders as she drew you to her chest, her bare leg slipping behind your back as she cradled you against her. One of her arms slipped under your legs, tugging you sideways so that you were cocooned in her embrace, sheltered and safe.

The tears you had been holding back spilled over, and you stifled your sobs against your palms, feeling Alexia's gentle sway as she rocked you. Her hand stroked up and down your back, a steady rhythm that eased some of the tension from your body. You clung to her, desperate for the comfort her touch provided, feeling your breath catch as you tried to force yourself to calm down.

There, in her arms, you knew that hiding wasn't an option anymore.

"What's wrong, amor?" her voice was so tender that the words you'd been holding back spilled out before you could stop them. Choking on each syllable, you told her everything—how much you hated the way you looked, how every curve felt wrong, how the stretch marks on your thighs and hips felt like a betrayal. You admitted that fueling your body had become a battle, that you'd started skipping meals, working out to the point of straining your knee, forcing yourself to push through the ache just to feel worthy.

"I spend so much time," you said, your voice breaking, "just standing in front of the mirror, analysing everything. Picking myself apart until I can't stand it anymore. I can't even..." Your voice faltered, thick with tears. "I can't even look at myself."

Alexia's hold on you tightened, her fingers digging slightly into your back, as if to keep you grounded. Her eyes never left your face, absorbing every raw word, her own eyes brimming with pain, reflecting the hurt you'd been carrying.

"I didn't want you to see me like this. I didn't want you to look at me without clothes because... if I hate what I see, then... then surely you would too." The admission slipped out, a final, aching confession. "Maybe if you just waited... if you could just hold on a little while longer, I'll be back to how I was before. And then... then it'd be okay."

But before you could finish, Alexia cut you off, her voice firmer than you'd ever heard it, startling you with the sharpness of her words. "Don't you dare say that," she whispered, her tone fierce with a hurt that mirrored your own. You flinched, and she immediately softened, her fingers brushing your cheek as she leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I'm sorry, amor. I didn't mean to scare you. But you're wrong," she said, her voice still laced with intensity. She tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze, her brown eyes holding you captive. "Please, just listen."

As she adjusted you slightly in her lap, holding you close, she wrapped her arms around you, drawing you into the comforting circle of her warmth. You nodded, still sniffling, your fingers curled into her shirt as you leaned into her touch.

"You are beautiful," she said firmly. "Siempre. Every day. Every moment." You opened your mouth to protest, but she pressed a finger to your lips, silencing you before you could interrupt. Her gaze softened, her thumb brushing away the remnants of your tears as she continued.

"Do you know what I see when I look at you? I see someone strong, even when you don't feel it." Her hands slid down your arms, squeezing gently. "These arms? They hold me, support me, even when you're feeling like this. And your legs? I know you think they're different now, but to me, they're perfect." She moved her hand down to rest on your thigh, tracing small circles with her thumb. "Do you remember the times I've rested my head here, just because it's where I feel safe?"

You bit your lip, feeling your resolve waver as her words seeped into the cracks of your defenses.

"And your stretch marks?" She leaned down, her lips brushing over your thigh, a gentle kiss that made you shiver. "They're proof of what you've been through. Proof that your body is fighting, that you're healing. They're beautiful to me. You are beautiful to me."

Still, the doubts clawed at you, whispers of insecurity that wouldn't quiet. She saw the uncertainty in your eyes and, as if reading your thoughts, she brought her hand up to cup your face, her gaze locked with yours.

"Please, amor," she murmured, her voice almost a plea. "Let me show you."

You could barely bring yourself to nod.

With that, she kissed you, her lips moving slowly, reverently. Her hands cupped your face, her fingers tracing the lines of your jaw, holding you as though you were something precious. And with each kiss, each soft murmur of adoration, you felt a little bit of the weight start to lift.

She coaxed you to lie back, settling you against the pillows, her hand trailing down to link with yours, her fingers warm and grounding. As she leaned over you, her lips found your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses that sent warmth spreading through you. Her lips traced every inch of exposed skin, reverent, tender, making you feel seen in a way you hadn't allowed yourself to feel in so long.

“I love this," she murmured, her fingers tracing over your hips, the slight curve of your waist. "Every part of you is beautiful to me."

She kissed the stretch marks on your thighs, her lips brushing over them with a tenderness that brought fresh tears to your eyes.

Her hands remained steady, her fingers tracing over your body as if memorising every curve, every line. She didn't rush, allowing you to sink into the feeling of her touch, to let yourself be held, to let yourself be loved without hesitation or restraint. She murmured soft affirmations, telling you how much she adored you, how lucky she felt to have you, her words anchoring you to the here and now.

And somewhere in the midst of her gentle worship, you found yourself relaxing, the tension in your body easing as her love wrapped around you like a soft blanket. You felt her hands against your sides, her lips pressing tender kisses to your skin, and for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to feel beautiful.

As she continued, her lips pressing gentle, adoring kisses over every inch of your body, you knew that healing wouldn't be immediate, that learning to love yourself again would take time. But with Alexia by your side, holding you, loving you, showing you the beauty she saw in you, you felt a glimmer of hope that one day, you might see it too.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @codiemarin @girlgenius1111 @silentwolfsstuff @simp4panos @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[pedroscowgirl]

Between control and desire

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

part 2

Warnings!: Minors DNI, contains smut infidelity (reader has something with spencer), edging, p in v (wrap it up), creampie, squirting, power dynamics, oral!f receiving, fingering (lmk if i forgot something)

masterlist

Summary : You finally share your first kiss with Spencer, the man you've adored for ages. But what happens when Hotch catches you in the act? As feelings shift and boundaries blur, you're caught between two men, Spencer’s sweet affection and Hotch’s intense control. The line between desire and duty has never felt so fragile. Wc:7,9k

A/n: I've been rewatching criminal minds and i would never cheat on my sweet nerd but Hotch is just so fine y'all...so enjoy!

This case was different. Normally, your assignments involved profiling and analyzing, not dressing up and mingling with the elite. But the unsub had been targeting wealthy women at high-end galas, and the BAU’s intel pointed to his next appearance at an exclusive charity event downtown. You’d be going undercover to draw him out.

In theory, it was simple: show up, blend in, and hope the unsub took the bait. In practice? It was the most uncomfortable mission you’d ever prepared for.

Garcia had handpicked the dress for you, and when she’d shown it to you earlier that morning, you were sure she had made a mistake.

“Uh, Penelope,” you had stammered, holding up the scarlet, body-hugging dress with wide eyes. “You sure this isn’t for one of the donors?”

“Nope,” she’d chirped, looking proud of her choice. “That dress is for you, my dear. And trust me, when you walk into that gala tonight, no unsub in their right mind will be able to resist.”

That didn’t ease your nerves. Sure, you’d gone undercover before, but never in an outfit like this. The red fabric clung to you like a second skin, accentuating every curve. It was sleeveless with a deep, tasteful neckline, a slit on one side that allowed for movement, necessary, since you still had to wear a concealed weapon.

Now, hours later, you stood in front of the full-length mirror in the FBI’s makeshift dressing room, smoothing the fabric nervously. You barely recognized yourself.

“Alright,” Hotch’s voice came through the door, causing your pulse to quicken. “We’re ready for the final briefing.”

You took one last look at yourself, squared your shoulders, and opened the door. The instant you stepped into the hall, all conversation stopped. The team, usually focused and professional, looked up one by one and openly stared.

JJ gave you a supportive smile. “You look amazing. You’re going to fit right in with the crowd tonight.”

“Yeah,” Rossi chimed in, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “If we didn’t know better, I’d say you belong at one of those events.”

You blushed, but before you could respond, you caught sight of Hotch. He was standing at the head of the room, briefing file in hand, but his usual moderate expression had softened. His dark eyes scanned over you from head to toe, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw him swallow hard, his jaw tensing.

“You look ready,” he said, his voice calm and professional, but there was a slight tremor in it that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Thank you,” you replied, unable to meet his gaze for too long. You shifted again, tugging slightly at the hem of the dress. “I don’t know how I feel about all this.”

“You look great,” Hotch said, his voice quieter now. “Just be careful. Stay close to the team, and if you feel anything’s off, get out of there.”

You nodded, grateful for his concern. You’d worked with Hotch long enough to know that he wasn’t one for overt displays of emotion, but the way he lingered on you, the unspoken admiration in his eyes—it made your heart race.

The rest of the team began gathering their gear, but Spencer Reid was still standing in the middle of the room, staring at you in open awe. His wide, hazel eyes were locked on you, and he seemed completely frozen.

“Spence?” you asked, smiling softly at him, trying to break the tension.

“Woa,” he whispered, almost too quietly to be heard, but the way his voice stretched out the word made you blush even deeper. Reid was brilliant in every way, and his innocence was one of his most endearing traits. The fact that he was clearly impressed by you, of all people, made you feel more self-conscious than ever.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You okay there, genius?”

Reid blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, his cheeks flushing. “Yeah, sorry. You just... look really different. Not bad, just... really good.” His stammered compliment made the heat in your cheeks intensify.

You smiled warmly at him. “Thanks, Spencer. That means a lot.”

Hotch cleared his throat then, effectively pulling everyone back into focus. “Alright, we’ve got our game plan,” he said, gesturing to the screen behind him that displayed photos of the gala venue. “Once we’re inside, we’ll stay in communication. Rossi, JJ, and I will be positioned around the perimeter, while Reid and Morgan will be circulating inside. We’ll all have eyes on you.” He looked at you when he said that last part, his gaze firm, protective.

You nodded, stepping into your role as an undercover agent. The butterflies in your stomach had settled, replaced by the steady focus of a professional ready for the mission. “Got it.”

As you moved to gather your small clutch—outfitted with a tiny earpiece and tracker—Hotch called your name softly. You turned back toward him, and for a moment, it was just the two of you.

He hesitated, his eyes meeting yours in a way that made your heart skip. “You really do look... incredible tonight,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear. His eyes flickered down to the dress, then back up, and you caught something in his expression that you hadn’t seen before, something unguarded.

“Thank you, Hotch,” you replied, feeling the warmth in your chest spread. “I’ll be careful. Promise.”

As you left the briefing room, you could still feel Hotch’s eyes on you, lingering even as you made your way toward the exit. There was something about tonight, about the way he had looked at you, that felt different. Maybe it was just the undercover role, the dress, or the high stakes of the case, but something told you that after tonight, things between you and Hotch might never be quite the same.

And as for Spencer? The memory of his innocent “wauw” would stick with you, making you smile even in the midst of the danger you were about to face.

The mission had been a success. You and the team had caught the unsub, and he was now sitting in an interrogation room, handcuffed, awaiting processing. The gala had gone off without a hitch, and thanks to the meticulous work of the team, the unsub had been identified and neutralized before he could strike again.

You stood in front of your locker at the BAU headquarters, slipping out of your dress and back into your familiar black jeans and a t-shirt. The adrenaline from the night had worn off, and now you were left with the exhaustion that came after every case. But this time, there was something different, a lingering thought that had nothing to do with the unsub.

The look Hotch had given you earlier had stayed with you. The intensity in his eyes when he said you looked incredible, the way his voice had softened, it was unlike anything you had ever experienced with him before. You weren’t sure what to make of it. You had always admired him, respected him, but you’d never considered there could be... more. Not until tonight.

And then there was Spencer. You and Reid had been dancing around each other for months now, exchanging glances, spending extra time together after cases, but neither of you had ever crossed that unspoken line. It was as if you were both waiting for something, but you didn’t know what.

As you closed your locker, the room felt quieter than usual. Most of the team had already left, their shifts officially over, and the bullpen was nearly empty. You exhaled, the tension in your shoulders starting to melt away as you grabbed your bag.

Just as you were about to head toward the exit, you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Hey, wait up.”

You turned around to see Spencer Reid standing by the door. His hair was a little tousled, and he was still in his work clothes, his tie slightly loosened. He had that sheepish look on his face that you always found adorable.

“Spence,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips. “I thought you’d already left.”

“I was going to, but I saw you were still here.” He stepped closer, his eyes searching yours. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay after everything tonight. I know going undercover isn’t exactly your favorite thing.”

You laughed softly, your heart warming at his concern. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just glad it’s over.”

Spencer nodded, but there was something more in his eyes, something unsaid. He stepped closer again, this time breaching your personal space in a way he never had before. You felt the heat from his body as he stopped just in front of you, his hand coming to rest gently on your arm.

Your breath caught in your throat. You and Spencer had always had this connection, something unspoken that simmered just beneath the surface. You’d shared looks, lingering touches, and moments that felt like they were on the edge of something more, but you had never crossed that line. Until now.

Your pulse quickened as your gaze flickered to his lips, then back to his eyes. The tension in the air between you was palpable. And then, before you could say anything else, Spencer leaned in and kissed you. It was soft at first, almost tentative, like he was testing the waters. But the moment your lips met his, it felt like everything fell into place.

You responded immediately, your hand coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. His arms slid around your waist, and he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. His fingers grazed your hips, anchoring you to him as the world seemed to blur around you.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. Spencer smiled down at you, his eyes bright and full of warmth. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” he admitted, his voice soft.

You couldn’t help but grin, your heart racing. “Me too.”

For a moment, it was just the two of you, standing in the empty bullpen, wrapped up in each other. But then, the sound of a sharp intake of breath from behind you shattered the moment.

You turned, startled, and froze when you saw him.

Hotch.

He stood in the doorway, his expression carefully controlled, but you could see the flicker of something darker beneath the surface. His eyes were locked on you and Spencer, and in that moment, you realized he had seen everything.

The air in the room shifted. You felt your heart sink, your stomach twisting into knots. Hotch’s jaw was clenched, his fists at his sides, the tension radiating off him in waves. He didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes.

“Hotch,” you started, taking a step forward, but the words caught in your throat. What could you even say?

Hotch’s eyes flickered from you to Spencer, then back again. His expression remained stoic, but there was no mistaking the flash of anger, or maybe it was jealousy that crossed his face. He took a deep breath, his gaze hardening.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said finally, his voice tight, though controlled. “I’ll... leave you two to it.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the room as quickly as he had appeared.

You stood there, frozen, your mind racing. Had Hotch been... jealous? The thought seemed impossible, but you couldn’t shake the way he had looked at you, like he had lost something.

Spencer’s hand was still resting on your hip, but you barely felt it now. Your thoughts were consumed with Hotch. The way his fist had clenched, the way his voice had wavered ever so slightly. He had seen the kiss, and he wasn’t okay with it.

You let out a shaky breath, turning to look at Spencer. His expression had shifted too, his brows furrowed in concern. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know he was there.”

Spencer nodded, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “Do you... care?”

Did you? You weren’t sure. All you knew was that something had changed. Something you hadn’t anticipated. You had been so focused on your budding relationship with Spencer, but now Hotch—Hotch—was a factor you hadn’t even considered.

Spencer’s hand moved from your hip to your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

You gave him a small smile, grateful for his understanding. “Thanks, Spence. I just need a minute.”

He nodded and stepped back, giving you space as you tried to process everything.

Hotch was gone, but the weight of his presence still lingered. The kiss with Spencer had felt right—perfect, even—but now there was something unspoken between you and Hotch, something that had been brewing beneath the surface without you realizing it.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. This wasn’t how you had expected the night to end. You had thought the biggest challenge was going undercover to catch a killer, but now it seemed like your personal life was even more complicated than the case.

The next morning felt heavier than usual. The BAU bullpen was busy with agents moving about, but you couldn’t shake the tension from last night. Your mind kept replaying the kiss with Spencer, how natural it had felt, the way he had smiled at you afterward—and then the look in Hotch’s eyes when he’d caught you both.

You arrived early, hoping to avoid the awkwardness that was bound to follow. As you walked into the bullpen, your heart raced at the thought of facing Hotch. Would he bring it up? Would he ignore it? You honestly weren’t sure what would be worse.

Sitting at your desk, you tried to focus on the case reports in front of you, but the words blurred together. You were so absorbed in your thoughts that you didn’t notice someone approaching until you heard his voice.

“Morning.”

You looked up to see Hotch standing beside your desk, his expression as unreadable as ever. He was in his usual suit, clipboard in hand, but there was something different in his posture, something tense, though he was trying to hide it.

“Morning,” you replied, your voice quieter than usual. You waited for him to say something about last night, but he didn’t. He stood there, the silence stretching between you like a wall.

For a few seconds, neither of you said anything, and you couldn’t tell if that was because of him, or because you weren’t sure what to say. The look in his eyes wasn’t like last night, he seemed determined to keep it all buried beneath his calm, professional demeanor today.

“I was reviewing the case reports from last night’s mission,” Hotch said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was controlled, businesslike, but there was an edge to it. “You did well. I wanted to tell you that.”

His praise should have felt good, but something about his tone made your chest tighten. The words were meant to sound professional, but you could tell there was more he wasn’t saying.

“Thanks, Hotch,” you replied, keeping your own tone neutral. “I’m glad everything went smoothly.”

He nodded, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. “We’ll have the debriefing in an hour,” he said, his voice tight. “Make sure you’re ready.”

Before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you sitting at your desk with a sinking feeling in your stomach. The conversation had been painfully formal, and it was clear that neither of you was addressing the real issue. Hotch was a master at hiding his emotions, but after working with him for so long, you knew when something was bothering him.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Spencer approached your desk, his usual nervous energy replaced with a softness that made your heart ache a little. He smiled at you, that familiar, boyish grin that always made you feel warm.

“Hey,” he said, leaning on the edge of your desk. “You okay? You seemed a little off this morning.”

You glanced around the bullpen, trying to avoid Hotch’s line of sight. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… tired, I guess.”

Spencer nodded, though his eyes searched yours for the truth. “Last night was really fun.” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, like he was testing the waters to see if you were on the same page.

You smiled at him, feeling a little more relaxed in his presence. “It was,” you agreed, your mind flashing back to the kiss. You were about to say more when you caught movement out of the corner of your eye—Hotch, standing in his office, watching.

Your breath hitched slightly. Hotch’s eyes were locked on you and Spencer, his jaw clenched. He wasn’t hiding it well this time—the tension, the frustration. He looked like he was barely holding himself together, and the realization that you were the cause of it made your stomach twist with guilt.

Spencer noticed your shift in mood and followed your gaze to Hotch’s office. His face fell slightly when he saw the way Hotch was looking at you. “Does he know?” Spencer asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, glancing down at your hands. “Well he saw us last night, so…”

Spencer exhaled, his hand moving to rub the back of his neck nervously. “That’s… complicated.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, your voice tight. “It is.”

The weight of the situation started pressing down on you. You cared about Spencer, you had for a long time, but now that Hotch was involved, everything felt more complicated. You hadn’t even realized there was something between you and Hotch until last night. His reaction, the way he’d looked at you and Spencer, had been like a punch to the gut.

“What do we do?” Spencer asked, his voice soft but steady.

You sighed, looking at him with a mix of affection and uncertainty. “I don’t know. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Spencer gave you a small smile, understanding in his eyes. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever happens.”

You nodded, grateful for his support. But as you looked over at Hotch again, still watching from his office, you couldn’t help but wonder if “figuring it out” was even possible.

Later that morning, during the team debriefing, the tension was palpable. Hotch kept his focus on the case, addressing the team with his usual authority, but there was an undeniable edge to his words whenever he spoke to you. His eyes lingered on you longer than necessary, and the undercurrent of frustration in his tone didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team.

Morgan raised an eyebrow at you at one point, silently asking if something was up, but you just gave him a small shake of your head, unwilling to explain the complicated mess you were in.

By the time the meeting was over, you felt like you could barely breathe. You needed to talk to Hotch—clear the air, somehow. You couldn’t let things stay like this.

When the others filed out of the room, you hesitated for a moment before standing up, catching Hotch’s attention. “Hotch, can I talk to you for a minute?”

He looked up from his papers and after a long pause, he nodded. “Close the door.”

You did as he asked, your heart pounding in your chest. When you turned back to face him, Hotch was watching you closely, his arms crossed over his chest.

“You wanted to talk,” he said, his voice low, but there was a tension there, like he was holding something back.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his gaze. “I just… I didn’t want what happened last night to affect our work. I know you saw me and Spencer, and I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening slightly. “You’re right. It shouldn’t affect our work.”

You swallowed hard, sensing that he wasn’t saying everything. “But it does, doesn’t it?”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze steady and intense. When he spoke, his voice was calm but edged with something you hadn’t heard from him before, something raw. “What you do with Reid is your business. But… if I’m being honest, it’s hard to ignore the fact that it bothers me.”

Your heart raced, unsure of what to say. You had expected him to be upset, but hearing him admit it out loud made everything more real.

“I didn’t think it would bother me either,” he continued, his voice growing quieter. “But it does. And I think… I need to figure out why.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy and charged with emotion. You had never seen him like this before, vulnerable, open in a way that made your chest tighten.

You stared at him, at a loss for words. You’d always respected him, admired him as a leader, but now you were seeing him in a different light. A light you hadn’t expected. And now, with Spencer in the picture, everything felt impossibly complicated.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” you whispered, unsure of what else to say.

“I know,” Hotch said, his voice softening slightly. He looked down for a moment, then met your eyes again. “But it did.”

Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken emotions. You didn’t know what would happen next, between you and Spencer, or between you and Hotch, but one thing was certain: nothing would ever be the same again

----

Weeks passed, and the intensity of your relationship with Spencer grew. Late-night talks turned into stolen kisses, and eventually, those kisses became something more. But despite the connection you shared, neither of you had made it official. It was as if you were both too scared to label what you had—both afraid of what it could mean if you did.

You spent countless nights together in the quiet of your apartment, wrapped in each other's arms, but as the days went on, you couldn’t help but notice that something was shifting. The tension with Hotch never fully dissipated after that night. He had become more distant, colder, but his gaze still lingered on you longer than it should. The weight of it was suffocating, pulling you in two directions, toward the warmth and comfort of Spencer, and the burning intensity of Hotch.

One late evening, you found yourself alone at the office. The team had been working a gruelling case, and everyone had left for the night to grab some much-needed rest. You had stayed behind, your mind too wired to sleep, going over the case files at your desk. The bullpen was eerily quiet, the fluorescent lights casting long shadows over the room.

You hadn’t heard him come in, but suddenly, Hotch was standing behind you.

“You’re still here.”

His deep voice startled you, and you looked up to see him looming over your desk, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were intense—darker than usual.

“Yeah,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual. “Couldn’t sleep. Just thought I’d go over the case again.”

Hotch said nothing for a moment, his eyes flicking down to the file on your desk, but you could tell he wasn’t really looking at it. His gaze moved back to you, and there was something different in the way he was standing, closer than usual, like the professional distance between you had finally worn thin.

“You’ve been distant lately,” he said, his voice quieter now, but there was a rough edge to it. “Not just with me. With everyone.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. It was true. Ever since that kiss with Spencer, everything had felt out of balance. You had been caught in this strange in-between space, unsure of where you stood with anyone.

“I’ve just been… dealing with some things,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hotch’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he stepped closer, leaning against the side of your desk. His presence was overwhelming, commanding, as always—but now there was something else in his gaze. Something you had seen glimpses of before, but never fully understood.

“And what about you and Reid?” he asked, his voice dropping lower, his eyes boring into yours.

Your heart raced at the mention of Spencer. You hadn’t expected Hotch to bring him up, not like this. You could feel the tension building, thickening the air between you.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice shaky. “We’re… we’re not official. It’s complicated.”

Hotch’s jaw clenched at that, and for a moment, you thought he might back off, but instead, he leaned in closer, his hand coming to rest on the edge of your desk, trapping you in place. His proximity made your pulse quicken, and suddenly, the room felt much smaller.

“Complicated,” he repeated, his voice barely above a growl. “You think this isn’t complicated for me?”

You blinked, taken aback by the raw emotion in his words. Hotch wasn’t one to wear his feelings on his sleeve, but right now, there was no mistaking the fire in his eyes.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

For a moment, Hotch didn’t respond. He just stood there, staring at you, his gaze intense and heated. Then, in a move that took you completely by surprise, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you up from your chair. You gasped as your body collided with his, and before you could say anything, his lips crashed against yours.

The kiss was rough, demanding—nothing like the gentle, tentative kisses you had shared with Spencer. Hotch’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips moved with a fierce intensity that made your head spin. It was like all the tension between you had finally snapped, and now there was nothing holding him back.

Your hands instinctively found their way to his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his suit jacket. Your mind was racing, trying to process what was happening, but your body responded on its own, melting into him as the kiss deepened. Hotch’s hands roamed over your body, one sliding down to your hip while the other tangled in your hair, keeping you firmly in place.

You barely had time to think as he pushed you back against your desk, his mouth never leaving yours. The papers scattered across the surface crinkled beneath you as he lifted you onto the desk, positioning himself between your legs. The kiss grew more frantic, more desperate, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body as he pressed against you.

“Hotch,” you breathed, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. They were dark, filled with desire.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his voice rough, his forehead resting against yours.

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew you should stop. This was wrong, wasn’t it? You were still involved with Spencer—sort of—but the pull between you and Hotch was undeniable. It had been simmering for weeks, maybe even longer, and now that the floodgates had opened, there was no going back.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your breath hitching.

At that, Hotch’s lips were on yours again, his hands sliding up your thighs as he lifted your shirt. The rational part of your brain screamed at you to stop, to think about Spencer, but all of that was drowned out by the overwhelming desire coursing through you.

Hotch’s kisses trailed down your neck, and you arched against him, your fingers gripping the edge of your desk for support. You felt the cold surface beneath you, a sharp contrast to the heat between your bodies.

His hands moved with a firm, steady confidence, fingers brushing against your waist as he unbuttoned your pants. His eyes never left yours, dark, intense, and filled with an unmistakable hunger. He lifted you effortlessly, sliding the fabric down your legs with deliberate care, his gaze locked on you as if nothing else existed in that moment.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the anticipation building as he ran a hand along your thigh, his touch sending sparks of heat through your entire body. When his fingers grazed over the thin material of your underwear, you gasped softly, instinctively pressing closer to him. His lips curled into a smirk, his eyes flashing with something almost predatory.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, his breath hot against your ear. “Does Spencer make you wet like this?”

His question caught you off guard. His tone was possessive, commanding, so different from the calm, controlled leader you had known. The edge in his voice made your pulse quicken, and despite the shock of his words, you found yourself craving more.

Hotch’s smirk deepened at your response, and before you could react, his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, brushing against your bare skin. The sudden contact with your sensitive flesh made your entire body tense, and a soft, involuntary moan escaped you. “Fuck no, he doesn’t,” you blurted out, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them. His fingers teased you, moving with an expert precision that made you tremble in his grasp.

He pulled your underwear to the side, his eyes darkening even further as he felt just how ready you were. “You’re a mess for me,” he whispered, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Look at you…”

Your breath came in shallow gasps as he tugged your panties off completely, discarding them without a second thought. His hand returned to you, fingers finding your most sensitive spot with a precision that made your knees weak. The pressure of his touch sent waves of pleasure through you, and you clutched onto him, your grip tight, needing something to hold onto as the intensity of his touch overwhelmed you.

Hotch’s fingers moved with purpose, each stroke deliberate, drawing soft whimpers from you as your body responded to him in ways you hadn’t anticipated. His free hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer, holding you steady as he worked you over, his expression one of absolute control.

“Is this what you need?” he asked, his voice low, but there was a dangerous edge to it, like he was testing you, seeing how far you would go. “Tell me.”

You couldn’t form words. Your body was reacting on instinct, arching into his touch, your mind fogged by the intensity of it all. Every nerve in your body was on fire, and all you could do was hold onto him, your breath coming in ragged gasps as the tension between you reached its peak.

Hotch’s fingers moved harder, faster, pushing you to the edge. The world around you blurred, the only thing that mattered was him, the feel of his hands on your body, the way he was guiding you, taking control, making you fall apart.

Your grip on his shoulders tightened, your nails digging into his skin as the pressure built inside you, your body responding to his touch in ways you hadn’t imagined. You came hard on his fingers after one last touch to your sweet spot. Falling apart on his fingers made Hotch even harder than he already was.

As you slowly came down from the high, your breathing still heavy, Hotch moved with the same calculated precision that you had always admired in him. His hands gripped your thighs with a firm, commanding hold, putting your legs on his shoulders as he knelt in front of you. The sudden change in his demeanour, this side of him that you had never seen before, left you breathless.

You gasped as his lips pressed against you, his tongue moving in ways that made your whole body react, a rush of heat flooding through you again. It was overwhelming, the intensity of it, the way he was so completely focused on you, as if everything else had disappeared. Your head fell back, your eyes fluttering shut, as you surrendered to the moment, to him.

Hotch was methodical, but passionate. His experience, his confidence, was palpable in every touch, every movement. You couldn’t hold back the sounds escaping your lips, the way your body responded to him as though he had unlocked something deep inside you.

Your thoughts scattered, lost in the sensations. You had never imagined anything like this—never expected your best pussy eating experience would happen here, in the very place where you had spent countless hours working side by side with him. The professionalism that had always defined your relationship was long gone, replaced by something far more primal, far more dangerous.

“Oh, fuck, sir… that feels so good,” you gasped, your voice shaky with pleasure.

At your words, Hotch paused for just a moment, a low chuckle escaping him. The sound vibrated through you, and you felt him smile against you, the warmth of his breath adding to the overwhelming sensations. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, the intensity in them making your pulse race even faster.

“So hot that you’re calling me ‘sir’ while I’m doing this,” he murmured, his voice rough, low, filled with satisfaction.

The deep vibrations of his voice against you were almost too much, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. You bit your lip, stifling the whimper that rose in your throat, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk as if it were the only thing tethering you to reality. The way he spoke, how controlled, how in command he remained even in this intimate moment, only heightened the intensity between you.

Hotch wasn’t just any man. He was your boss, the stoic leader who carried the weight of the team on his shoulders. And yet, here he was, unravelling you piece by piece, making you feel things you had never felt before. The forbidden nature of it, the fact that you were breaking so many unspoken rules, only added to the electricity in the air.

As his tongue continued its relentless pursuit, the pressure built inside you once again, threatening to overwhelm you. Every movement, every flick of his tongue, was pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the tension coiling tightly in your core, ready to snap at any moment.

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions—desire, guilt, confusion—all swirling together in a chaotic mix. But in this moment, none of it mattered. The only thing that existed was the way he made you feel, the way he controlled every part of your body with ease, driving you toward that inevitable release.

The intensity of what he was doing overwhelmed your senses, a rush of heat coursing through you, bringing you to the brink. And then, just as you were about to tip over the edge, everything stopped.

Hotch pulled back, his hands still firmly gripping your thighs, but his touch gone, the warmth of his breath no longer sending shivers across your skin. The sudden absence of him left you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest, the tension inside you teetering dangerously close to snapping.

"Hotch," you cried out, his name escaping your lips in a desperate plea, your body aching for the release he had so cruelly denied. Your eyes flew open, seeking him, and when your gaze locked with his, you saw the faintest smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Please,” you begged, your voice shaky, desperate. “Please, let me cum.”

For a moment, Hotch said nothing, his eyes scanning your face, taking in the flush of your cheeks, the way your chest rose and fell with each labored breath. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, his silence driving you to the edge of madness. And then, without warning, his hand moved, reaching up to cup your face, his fingers firm as they tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, his thumb brushing over your lower lip in a way that made your breath catch in your throat. “Begging.”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, your pulse quickening, the power dynamic between you only making you crave him more. There was something intoxicating about the way he held you,his control, his dominance. You wanted to surrender to him, to let him take whatever he wanted from you.

Hotch’s grip on your face tightened just slightly, his thumb slipping down to brush against your jawline. His dark eyes flicked down to your lips, lingering there for a moment before returning to meet your gaze.

“Say it again,” he ordered, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight, the need in your body almost unbearable. “Please,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Please, sir, let me cum.”

The way you called him “sir” seemed to ignite something in him, a flicker of pride and desire flashing in his eyes. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath hot against your skin.

“You think you deserve it?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, his hand still gripping your face as he held you there, completely at his mercy.

You nodded, your heart racing, your whole body aching with the need for him to touch you again. “Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. “I need it.”

Hotch’s lips curved into a smirk. He was drawing this out, savouring the control he had over you, watching as you trembled beneath him, completely undone by his touch.

“Not yet,” he whispered, his voice a dangerous mix of command and seduction.

His words sent a rush of heat through you, your entire body on edge, the tension building with every passing moment. You whimpered softly, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his suit jacket as you tried to steady yourself, the need for release almost unbearable.

Hotch’s hand slid down from your face, trailing along the curve of your neck, his fingers brushing over your collarbone as he slowly made his way down your body. His touch was light, almost teasing, as if he were testing your resolve, seeing just how much you could take.

Hotch’s hands moved to his belt with a deliberate, steady motion, the sound of the buckle undoing echoing through the room. Your breath hitched as he removed his pants and underwear, the sudden intimacy of the moment making your pulse race. When your eyes met his again, they were wide, overwhelmed by the reality of the situation, yet a spark of desire remained unmistakable.

He noticed your reaction, his lips curving into a smirk as he reached out, gently taking a lock of your hair and tucking it behind your ear. His touch was surprisingly tender given the intensity of the situation, and his eyes softened as he looked at you.

“You’re so cute,” he murmured, his voice low, almost affectionate.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but before you could process it, Hotch’s hands were on your hips, his grip firm and commanding as he positioned you. The moment he entered you, the fullness of him made you gasp, a moan slipping from your lips despite yourself. The sensation was overwhelming, and for a brief second, the reality of what was happening hit you all at once. This wasn’t just any encounter; this was real, and the intensity of it was almost too much to bear.

But as Hotch began to move, any lingering doubts faded, replaced by the undeniable pleasure that coursed through your body. He was deliberate, every thrust calculated, driving you to the edge with each motion. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the sounds threatening to escape you, but Hotch noticed.

“Don’t hold your moans back,” he commanded, his voice stern but laced with something deeper, a desire to hear you fully surrender to him.

His words had an effect on you, and you let go of the restraint you had been clinging to, your moans escaping freely now as the pleasure built with every movement. Hotch’s pace quickened, the intensity between you growing as he drove you further and further toward the brink. You couldn’t hold back the way your body responded to him, the way every thrust pushed you closer to losing control.

Your head fell back, the sensations overwhelming as he took you rough and unrelenting, his control never wavering. The desk beneath you creaked with the force of it, but none of that mattered. All you could focus on was him, the way he filled you, the way he commanded every part of you in that moment.

And then it happened, your body trembled violently as the release washed over you, the force of it so intense that you couldn’t stop it. You cried out, your entire body shaking as you felt yourself let go completely. It was overwhelming, and before you could even process what had happened, you realized you had just squirted on him.

“Oh, fuck,” you yelled, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Embarrassment flooded through you immediately, and you stammered an apology, your cheeks flushing with heat. “I’m sorry… I don’t normally do that.”

You looked up at Hotch and his expression was one of pure awe. There was pride in his eyes, as if what had just happened only added to his satisfaction. He let out a low, almost primal growl of approval, his hands tightening on your hips as he continued to move inside of you, driving you both toward the inevitable.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmured, his voice rough with pleasure. “That was incredible.”

As he chased his own release, his pace grew more erratic, the intensity between you building once more. He didn’t stop, didn’t let up, his movements relentless as he pushed both of you toward the edge. The pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel him lose control, his own release approaching.

When he finally reached his climax, Hotch buried himself inside of you with a low groan, the sound filled with raw need. You felt him spill into you, the heat of it mixing with your own, and the sensation sent another wave of pleasure through you. He kept moving, riding out his orgasm, his hands gripping your hips as if he needed to hold onto something, anything, to stay grounded in the moment.

The room felt heavy with the aftermath of the intensity you had both shared. The air was thick, the only sound the soft hum of the ventilation system and the slow, labored breaths you both took as you tried to come down from the overwhelming sensations coursing through your bodies. Hotch’s hands lingered on your hips, his touch softer now but still possessive, as if he wasn’t quite ready to let you go.

You sat up slowly, your body still trembling from the force of your release. Hotch pulled back just enough to give you space, but his gaze never left yours.

You took a deep breath, your mind racing to catch up with what had just happened. Your heart raced as you glanced at him, unsure of what to say. The vulnerability in his gaze surprised you, for all his confidence and control, there was a softness in his eyes now, a quiet tenderness that spoke volumes. His hand, still resting on your hip, squeezed gently as if to reassure you, to let you know that everything was okay.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Hotch said quietly, his voice rough from exertion but filled with warmth. “That was...”

He trailed off, but the way he looked at you, like he was still processing everything that had just happened, said more than words ever could. You bit your lip, the weight of his gaze making your heart flutter. He was right, there was no reason to apologize. What had happened between you was raw and intense, but it was also real, and that was something neither of you could take back.

Finally, he pulled away just enough to help you up, his hands steady and sure as he guided you to your feet. You wobbled slightly, your legs still weak from the intensity of your release, but Hotch was there, his arms strong and supportive as he steadied you. The tenderness in his touch was a stark contrast to the rough, commanding way he had taken you moments ago, and it left you feeling even more connected to him.

As you stood there, face to face, the reality of the situation began to sink in. You had just crossed a line—one you hadn’t expected to cross—and now, there was no going back.

But what did it mean? What would happen now?

Hotch seemed to sense your uncertainty, his eyes softening as he reached out, cupping your cheek in his hand

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and filled with concern.

You nodded, your throat tight as you tried to find the words to express how you were feeling. “I’m okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I just… I didn’t expect this.”

Hotch’s eyes darkened slightly, a flicker of something, regret? uncertainty?crossing his features. “Neither did I,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “But… I don’t regret it.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You didn’t regret it either, but that didn’t mean things weren’t complicated now. There was still so much left unsaid, so much you didn’t know how to process. You had crossed a line with your boss, a man you had always respected and admired, and you felt like you betrayed Spencer, now you weren’t sure what the future held.

He leaned in slightly, his forehead resting against yours in a gesture that was both intimate and comforting. His breath was warm against your skin, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself bask in the closeness, the quiet moment of peace that had settled over you.

“We’ll figure this out,” Hotch murmured, his voice soft but firm. “Whatever this is… we’ll figure it out.”

Slowly, Hotch pulled back, his hand slipping from your cheek as he straightened up. His expression was serious, but there was a softness in his eyes that reassured you, a quiet promise that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“You should probably get dressed,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You blushed, suddenly acutely aware of your dishevelled state, and gathered your clothes. Hotch watched you with a quiet amusement, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back against the desk. There was something comforting about the way he looked at you, as if he found your flustered state endearing rather than awkward.

Once you were both dressed, Hotch pushed himself off the desk and stepped toward you, his expression more serious now. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“We’ll talk,” he said, his voice low and filled with promise. “Soon.”

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 12

Kinktober Masterlist vi coactus - "under duress" Simon "Ghost" Riley/TF141 x f!reader Kinks > SHAME, forced orgasms, bimbo/dumbification Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

“Under duress” — A quick exfil means limited seats in the TAC-V. Simon lets you sit on his lap, but it’s a really bumpy road. When you realize that his thigh is the perfect shape, and that it’s pressing against your most sensitive spot, there’s not much you can do to stop yourself. Might as well enjoy the ride.

Warnings: SHAME! EMBARRASSMENT! SHAME!!!!, mean teasing, slut shaming, it's not non-con but no one asks for permission; this truck is not a safe-space.

No one said a word. Once the noise of the petrol explosion and the machine guns faded from your ears, all that you could hear was the rattle and rumble of the engine of the TAC-V. The mission had been successful, but barely. You’d secured the package, but it had cost you the chopper exfil that you’d been desperately counting on. What was a quick twenty minute flight was now an eight hour drive through the bumpiest mountain road known to man, and you were sitting on Ghost’s lap for the entire trip.

The TAC-V sat two in front and three in back, so with Price and Gaz up in the driver and passenger seats, you should have been able to fit in the rear with Ghost and Soap. But, the care package was taking up your spot. As the smallest member of the squad, you were relegated to lap-status, much to your audible dismay. 

“Shut your mouth and get in the truck, Corporal!” Price had shouted, spraying cover fire over the hood of the vehicle. 

So, that’s where you found yourself. Mouth shut. Seat secured. 

There was only one problem. Ghost’s thighs were enormous. He never skipped leg day, and when you tried to sit against his hips to distribute your weight, his gear vest was in the way. So, he’d shifted you over onto his right thigh, forcing you to straddle him, and now you could feel… everything. 

Every time Price hit another bump – which was once or twice every few seconds at this point – Ghost’s rock-solid quad muscle would jerk up into your pussy, shaking your most sensitive bits. It was savage, but it was making your body respond in ways that you did not appreciate. And now, you were in the middle of fighting off the most embarrassing orgasm of your life. 

You could feel how wet you were through the canvas pants you were wearing. Your panties were soaked in the first hundred kilometers, so they were useless against your slick pleasure. Soon, Ghost would be able to feel the warm stain of your cunt imprinting itself on his own trousers, and there was nothing you could do about it. 

You had tried to shift away in the beginning of this trip, rotating your hips back and forth, trying to search for a less-shameful angle, but he had grumbled, 

“Sit still, love. Tha’s enough squirmin’ around.”

His hand had reached out to secure your hip, pulling you down into a deep seated position, crushing your soft lips against his thigh and spreading them apart unknowingly.

You’d managed to suffer in pure silence so far, but that was becoming more and more challenging as the ride got rougher. The desire to roll your hips against him to take the edge off of the blinding friction you were experiencing was mind-numbing. You were sweaty from battle and now you were sweaty from nerve-racking lust, and there was no escape. You still had hundreds of kilometers to go, and you didn’t know what you were going to do.

Your body knew exactly what it was going to do, though. It was going to come whether you wanted to or not. 

“You alright, lass? Car sick?” Johnny asked, peering over at you as your head rested against the driver’s headrest in front of you. 

“Need a break, babes?” Gaz turned in his seat to check on you. 

“No can do,” Price shook his head and peered at you in the rearview mirror, “Still in the red zone. We can’t stop here and expect to make it out without drawing unwanted attention.” 

“Here,” Gaz reached back and unclipped your vest, “At least take this off so you can catch a breath.”

You let him slip the vest off your shoulders and stuff it in the footwell on the floor in front of him. He passed you his canteen, and you tried to open it with trembling hands. 

“She’s not fuckin’ sick,” Ghost hissed, grabbing the canteen and opening it for you before lifting it to your lips so you could drink.

The rest of the truck-full of men waited to hear the rest of Ghost’s explanation. You felt heat rush to your cheeks in painful humiliation as you waited for him to reveal your predicament. You knew, now, that he could feel you. You had thought you’d gotten away with it so far, but it was too obvious. He could feel the wet, sticky patch on his quad growing with every tremulous shake of the truck, and he knew what was happening to you. You could almost hear the jeering smile on his lips when he told them, 

“She needs a quick wank, innit that right, Corporal?”

You tried to keep your eyes trained on the floor, but you had to see what their faces looked like. You lifted your gaze to meet Price’s bright blue eyes in the mirror, the evidence of Ghost’s truth written all over your expression. 

The silence was broken up only by the road noise. No one spoke and no one breathed. You looked to Gaz and saw his mouth open in shock, curling at the edge of his lip with a boyish glee. Soap’s brow was furrowed in disbelief,

“S’that true, bonnie?”

Ghost didn’t even give you a chance to answer him. He shoved his gloved hand under your crotch as if to feel the evidence on his hand that he was sensing on his thigh, chuckling at your sorry predicament,

“Bumpy road, been wet and warm for almost an hour. Gonna have myself a pretty little pussy stain by the time we get to base. And if I give her somethin’ to work against…”

Your lieutenant curled his fingers that he had shoved underneath you, finding your swollen clit with a surprising ease. As if he’d pushed a button, you let out an obvious moan. You cut it short, unable to hold it back from crawling out of your throat, but the damage was done. 

Silence again, and then Gaz’s low voice,

“Holy fuck.”

Ghost removed his hand and settled back in his seat, keeping his grip on your hips with a steadfast strength. He was looking at you in the mirror along with Price who kept glancing up from the road. The message in Ghost’s eyes was a clear challenge; he wasn’t going to give you any more relief, and if you wanted to come on him, you’d need to figure it out yourself. 

The urge to hump his solid thigh was overwhelming, and now that the cat was out of the bag, you thought it wouldn’t be possible for you to be any more ashamed, so you started to hump your pussy against him, ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly… but, Ghost couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“See? Needy thing’s grindin’ on me. Can’t help yourself, huh, love?”

You shook your head, looking to Price for some sort of rescue, but what could he do? Your captain was driving as fast as he could out of enemy territory, and you were stuck in place, tumbling into an orgasm and suffering the pain of embarrassment in front of your whole squad. 

You moaned, trying to hold your breath, but your whole body shook as you came. Your hole was so wet and burning hot, and you could feel yourself gush as you clenched your muscles around nothing, wishing you had something… someone… inside of you. 

“There she is… good girl,” Ghost teased you, rubbing your back as you shuddered above him, rolling in your high. 

“Did she just…” Soap gaped.

You looked up at him, and even though your eyes begged for pity, you received none from him. He met you with a filthy grin,

“Come over here with me, lass. I’ll give you somethin’ to fuckin’ sit on.”

He reached for your arm, attempting to drag you over the care package, but Ghost jerked his hand away and wrapped his arm around your belly, forcing you to lean back against him, the tools in his vest digging into your flesh,

“She’s fine where she is, Sergeant. Aren’t ya, sweetheart?”

You felt hot tears stinging the corners of your eyes, and you squeezed them shut, whispering,

“I’m s-sorry…”

“Shh, love. Nothin’ to be sorry for. Can’t be fuckin’ helped. C’mon,” he snarled in your ear, his mask smelling like his menthols and sweat, “Beg me to help you. Beg for my fingers, princess.”

“Simon,” Price warned, watching your degradation unfold behind him. 

“Eyes on the bloody road, Cap,” Ghost chuckled, “Bumpy enough back here as it is.”

Gaz hadn’t stopped staring, and you watched in horror as he palmed his hard length over the rough denim of his jeans. 

You felt yourself building to another crescendo, the waves of your first orgasm swelling to threaten a second, easier now that you’d let down so much silky come, allowing your pussy to slip that much faster over Simon’s huge thigh. 

“Beg me, baby,” Ghost growled in your ear, “Beg me to fuckin’ touch you right here where they can all watch me make you come.”

“No…” You gasped, “I can’t… I’m not…”

“Not what? Not a dumb little slut? Oh, sweetheart. Yes, you are. You’re so fuckin’ wet it looks like you pissed yourself. I bet those pretty knickers are fuckin’ ruined, aren’t they?”

He grabbed you by the chin roughly, startling you, making your core clench tight, turned on by his cruel aggression as he almost shouted in your ear, 

“Aren’t they? Tell the fuckin’ truth. Tell it to him,” Ghost’s eyes turned toward the rear view mirror and you looked up at Price, pleading with him for forgiveness in your tone. You mumbled, 

“My panties… are…”

“He can’t hear you, baby.” Ghost held your face, forcing you to look at his captain in the eyes through the reflective glass.

“My panties are ruined, sir.”

“Is that so, Corporal?” Price asked in a low droll, and you saw him readjust himself in his pants before putting both fists back on the steering wheel, gripping it so tight that his knuckles turned as white as bone. 

“Better see for myself, yeah?” Ghost chuckled, unbuttoning your trousers and yanking down the fly. 

He reached inside and grabbed the fabric roughly in his hand and, with a strength that shocked you, he tore them right off of your body with a loud rip, breaking the elastic at the seam and slipping the scrap from under your lips and ass. He held it up for the entire truck to see, showing them how the gray cotton was stained dark from your wetness, how they gleamed in the light of the setting desert sun. 

Soap reached out and snatched them from his hand, and Ghost laughed out loud, watching Johnny shove them to his nose and moan out a breath of satisfaction. 

“Go on, then,” Ghost turned his attention back on you, “Beg me for it. I wanna hear you say please, sir. You got that, Corporal?”

He snaked his hand back down the front of your belly, barely touching your furry mons, resting his gloved finger just above the hood of your clit, touching you with a light, teasing pressure. 

You could feel the rough canvas against your soft pussy now, and the seam was giving you something to grind against, but it was nothing like the feel of a strong finger. You chased another orgasm, but it was just out of reach. You were humping him lewdly, at this point, rocking your hips back and forth with abandon, unable to stop yourself from chasing your second, hard burst of pleasure. 

You bit your lip, struggling with all your might, but you were failing to surge over that exaltant peak. You needed his help, but you didn’t want to beg for it. You couldn’t. You were too dismayed at your fallen state.

You looked at Gaz, hoping he could talk some sense into your lieutenant, but he was jerking himself off with a hand down his pants, watching you through hooded eyes. You turned your gaze to Soap who had your ripped panties in his hand and was using them to wet his own heavy cock, smearing your juices all over his ruddy head. 

Ghost’s grip tightened on your jaw, and he turned your head toward his passenger window, stopping you from looking at the other men, 

“They can’t help you, love. Just me. Now, use your fuckin’ words.”

“Please… touch me,” your voice was barely a whisper.

“Please, what?” He bit back.

“Please touch me, sir,” you whined, sick to your stomach at your own weakness.

“Tha’s a good girl,” he smiled.

He moved his fingers lower, shoving two of them between your lips, applying firm pressure to your clit. He didn’t even need to rub you. Your pussy started to come the moment it had his relief, and you cried out like a paid whore, keening into the hollow cab, rolling your hips against him, chasing your crashing orgasm. 

Then, he started to move his hand frantically, rubbing you back and forth, dragging out your bursting come even further than you thought was possible, turning one orgasm into two, back to back, a painful overstimulation, enough to make your body convulse from his effort.

“No, no… oh, fuck!” You screamed, trying to close your legs but his thigh was in the way, and all you could do was ride him. 

“Yeah, tha’s it, love. Give it to me. Come on me, you filthy fuckin’ slag. Let ‘em hear what I’m doin’ to this needy cunt.”

“Mmngh! Please… Ghost, please, oh, fuck…” 

“Listen to that sound, lads,” he grunted, commenting on the wet, milking noises your cunt was making under his hand, “Runnin’ like a hot tap.”

“Hurry up, LT,” Soap barked, pulling on his cock with your panties wrapped around the hard shaft like he was furious with it, “I’ll only be so patient.”

Ghost shook his head,

“Tsch, tsch, alright, Johnny. If you insist. C’mon, baby. Keep those legs spread f’me like a good girl, yeah?”

You felt him ruck down the back of your pants and shove them onto your legs, exposing your ass to the whole truck. Then, you felt the tell-tale drag of his cockhead over your folds, and before you could even think to protest, he was shoving himself inside of you, slipping through your slick without much resistance, your wet come helping guide his length all the way up to your womb. 

Once he had whet his prick down to its root in you, he used both hands to lift your hips and slam them back down, using you like a cocksleeve. He was so thick, but your body was primed and ready to take him, and you found yourself without words, only able to moan and whine as he filled you up. 

Gaz reached over, leaning out of his seat to grab your face, turning you towards him so that he could kiss you. You couldn’t even kiss him back, you were so mindless, and he spent most of his time licking your lips and sucking on your tongue as you whimpered for Ghost’s heavy dick, your body jerking up and down as he slammed you onto his steel-hard length repeatedly. 

“Does he feel good, babes?” Gaz asked you, sticking two of his fingers into your mouth and down your throat, making you choke on him until you started to instinctively suck and swallow against him, “Tha’s it. Pretty thing just needed somethin’ in her mouth, didn’t she?”

Every time you choked from Gaz’s hand in your throat, you clenched around Ghost’s cock, and he begged his sergeant for more,

“Choke her again, Garrick. Makes her so fuckin’ tight.”

Gaz laughed, full of mischief, and reached up with his other hand to pinch your nose. Then, inside of your mouth, he pressed his fingers in a downward motion over and over and over, making it feel like he was fucking your face with a throbbing dick, too big for you to breathe. You gagged, and then, when you tried to take a breath, you gagged again, your whole body spasming, fighting for air. You could only suck in short breaths when you opened your mouth wider, and Gaz held the relief of those moments from you for as long as he could. 

Finally, Ghost wrapped both of his hands around your torso and ripped you away from Gaz’s cruel hand, laying you against his chest and fucking his cock up into you from below, creating loud, pornographic slapping sounds that filled the truck. 

“Fuck!” Ghost groaned, “Gonna make me come, love. Say please, baby. C’mon. You can do it. Say it.”

“Dinnae think she’s still with us, LT. Fucked her brains right out of her head,” Soap chuckled. 

“She can do it,” Ghost insisted, “C’mon, sweetheart. You’re not gettin’ my come until I hear you beg for it.”

 You looked at his eyes in the mirror again, not recognizing yourself in such a mindless state of indulgence, drowning in pleasure and losing yourself to it. He was looking at you with such an intensity, you wanted to please him. You wanted to follow his orders. You wanted to show him that you could be such a good girl. 

“P-please…. Please! Ungh, please, sir… Give me your come. Please, sir… I need it. I need it. I need… mmnff-fuck!”

You felt his cock swelling, throbbing, and bursting with hot, sticky ropes of his cream, buried deep inside of your walls, coating the head of your womb as your pussy squeezed out another orgasm, milking him like a hungry mouth. He pulled out a bit only to ram himself back in, deeper this time, stretching to touch the end of your sheath, aching to plant his seed. 

“Fuck, finally,” Soap grunted, reaching over the crate with both hands this time to drag you from Ghost’s lap, “Couldnae wait much longer, LT.”

You felt Ghost’s cock slip from you, spilling his come down your leg, your pants sliding down to your boots as Soap dragged you into his lap.

“There she is,” Gaz smiled, returning to his efforts and shoving his fingers back down your throat, this time shifting them back and forth, massaging your tongue as he fucked you on his hand, “Suck them for me, baby. It’ll be my turn, soon.”

“Better enjoy the easy ride while you can, Corporal,” Price sneered, “You’ve got PT in my quarters as soon as we get back to base. Might take all night.”

As Johnny’s fat dick squeezed into your come-soaked pussy, you wanted to protest. You wanted to make some snide comment back, but your usual biting retorts were unavailable at the moment. You really were blissed out of your mind, and the only thing you could do was fuck and suck like the dumb little slut that you were.

If anyone comments on this OBVIOUSLY TAGGED shame kink fic that it was "too embarrassing to read!! huehueuhe"/"i tried but i couldnt do it. too cringe!", I'm gonna come to your house and shit in your shoes, you coward. Get the fuck off my page.

[mssalo]

safety - Part: Il

Summary: After years of isolation, Joel Miller's life revolves around control and keeping danger at bay, his past as a soldier leaving him constantly on edge. But when a sweet, soft-spoken young woman starts working at the supply store, her innocence stirs something inside him. Despite his efforts to remain detached, Joel becomes obsessed with keeping her safe from the dangers he’s certain are lurking everywhere.

As his protective instincts morph into darker desires, the lines between safeguarding her and possessing her begin to blur.

Warnings will vary by chapter depending on the content.

Warnings: Dark!Joel, 18+ MDNI, Obsession themes, Stalking, Breaking and entering, Scent kink, Voyeurism, Joel has major Trauma/PTSD, Mentions of military past, Manipulation, Power dynamics, Male masturbation, Joel, still, needs a hug and therapy. As per usual.

9k. enjoy.

Part I Part III Part IV Part V

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

Joel found out she was working at the supply store by accident.

He hadn’t planned on seeing her again. After that first encounter, he convinced himself he’d walk away.

She wasn’t his problem.

He couldn’t get wrapped up in someone like her—someone who had no idea how dangerous the world really was.

But then, on one of his routine stops for supplies, he spotted her behind the counter.

She hadn’t seen him

At first, he’d assumed she was just a customer again, passing through, but when she’d ducked behind the register, pulling out receipts, it hit him.

She worked there now.

She hadn’t told him that before, hadn’t mentioned anything about it, and yet here she was, talking to customers, rearranging gear, moving around the store like it was something she’d been doing forever.

And for some reason, that made something inside him tighten.

She was here all the time. Regular hours, regular shifts.

Easy to find.

That should’ve made him feel nothing. But it didn’t.

That’s so fuckin’ dangerous.

From that point on, whenever he stopped by the store, he made sure to keep his distance.

He’d walk in, grab what he needed, and leave before she noticed him.

There was something about seeing her there—watching her smile and chat with customers—that unnerved him in a way he couldn’t explain.

She didn’t fit in with the world he knew.

She was too soft, too bright. She belonged somewhere safe, not in a place like this.

Yet, he found himself coming back.

Over and over.

Each time, he told himself it was the last time.

That he’d stop, that he didn’t need to see her again.

But every time he came back, she was there—talking to someone, laughing at some joke, her voice floating through the air like a song he couldn’t get out of his head.

Joel tried to ignore it.

Tried to ignore her.

But she was like a goddamn magnet, pulling him back in without even realizing it.

And then, one day, she spotted him.

“Joel!” she called, her voice bright and cheerful, as if they were old friends.

He froze, his hand tightening around the bag of supplies he’d grabbed.

He’d been so close to slipping out unnoticed, but now she was looking at him, smiling that same smile that made his chest tighten.

“Hey,” he muttered, forcing himself to turn and meet her gaze.

She was standing behind the counter, hands resting on the edge, her eyes lighting up as she looked at him.

These damn pretty eyes.

“I didn’t know you came here so often,” she said, her tone playful.

“What’s bringing you back this time?”

Joel grunted, trying to come up with a quick excuse. “Needed more supplies. That’s all.”

She didn’t seem to notice the coldness in his voice, just kept smiling at him like he hadn’t been avoiding her for days.

“You always seem so prepared,” she said with a small laugh. “I bet you could survive out there for weeks with all the stuff you buy.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. Survive? 

She had no idea what that meant.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Her smile faltered for just a second, her eyes flicking to the side as if she wasn’t sure what to say next.

But then she turned back to him, her expression softening again.

“You know, I’ve been learning more about the gear here,” she said, leaning forward a bit. “I could help you with recommendations if you ever need it.”

Joel stared at her, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Why was she still talking to him? Why was she being so damn nice?

“I’m good,” he said, his voice gruff.

But she didn’t stop.

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes bright with curiosity. “You sure? I’ve been reading up on it a lot. Could probably surprise you with what I know.”

You shouldn’t trust me, Joel thought, his mind racing. 

Why are you still smiling at me?

He grunted again, shifting on his feet, his gaze flicking to the door.

He needed to leave. Now.

“Well,” she said, that same smile tugging at her lips, “if you ever need anything, just let me know. I’m here most days now.”

Too much information. 

Joel’s gut clenched. She shouldn’t be telling him this—telling anyone this. Didn’t she know how dangerous it was to be so open, so trusting?

“You shouldn’t tell people that,” Joel muttered, his voice harsher than he meant. “Not safe.”

Her brows furrowed, her smile slipping for the first time. “What do you mean?”

Joel felt the weight of her confusion settle on him, but he couldn’t stop himself from speaking. “Tellin’ strangers where you work. When you work. Ain’t smart.”

She blinked, taken aback. “Oh... I guess I didn’t think of it that way.”

Of course, you didn’t. 

Joel’s mind reeled, his frustration bubbling just below the surface.

You don’t know how to think like that. You don’t know what the world can do to people like you.

But before he could say anything else, she smiled again, though this time it was smaller, a bit softer.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” she said, her voice quieter. “I didn’t mean to—well, I guess I’m just not used to thinking like that.”

Yeah. I can tell.

But instead of saying that, Joel just nodded, his jaw still tight. He needed to leave, needed to stop this before he got in too deep.

Here’s a darker, more intense version of that passage:

“See you around,” she called after him as he turned to leave.

He didn’t reply. He couldn’t.

His throat was tight, his chest heavy. But as he pushed open the door and stepped outside into the cool air, something made him look back.

She was still watching him. Smiling. Soft. So damn innocent.

That look in her eyes—so full of trust—twisted something deep inside him.

She doesn’t know better.

His boots hit the pavement harder than necessary as he made his way to the truck.

Every step felt heavy, like the weight of his thoughts was dragging him down. His hand found the door handle, but he couldn’t make himself move.

Couldn’t shake the way her scent still clung to him, sweet and soft, like she was still standing right next to him.

Joel gritted his teeth, staring down at the truck door, but all he could see was her face.

Her wide, bright eyes, that shy smile, the way she just… trusted.

Trusted him. She shouldn’t.

His body felt hot, the tension coiling low in his gut, his muscles tight.

Too tight.

And then he felt it again—his cock, straining against his jeans, hard and throbbing, a deep, almost painful ache that made his breath catch in his throat.

Fuck.

It hit him like a freight train, sudden and unwanted. His mind raced, trying to push the thought of her away, but the harder he tried, the worse it got.

His pulse pounded in his ears, the heat in his body rising as the memory of her soft voice echoed in his mind.

That innocent, clumsy laugh. The way she fumbled with the gear. The blush on her cheeks.

Joel’s grip tightened on the door handle, his knuckles turning white.

What the hell is wrong with you?

He hadn’t felt this in years. This need. This raw, primal hunger gnawing at him.

His body betrayed him, his cock throbbing harder, almost painfully, as if it knew something he didn’t.

But it was because of her.

The realization, again, made his chest tighten, his breath coming in rough, uneven bursts.

He slammed the door shut, leaning his forehead against the cool metal, trying to calm the storm raging inside him.

No. Not her.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but her image was burned into his mind—her body, her smell, the softness in her eyes.

His cock twitched again, the pressure building, his jeans too tight, the pulse unbearable.

She was so sweet. So oblivious.

And here he was, standing in the parking lot like a goddamn animal, throbbing with need for something he knew he shouldn’t want.

But the thought of her lingered. The way she looked up at him like he was something to be trusted. Something safe.

Joel forced himself into the truck, gripping the wheel so tight he thought it might break.

His heart pounded in his chest, the tension making every breath feel like fire.

He needed to forget her. Get her out of his head.

But his body told him otherwise.

The throbbing between his legs refused to be ignored. His jaw clenched, muscles tight with frustration as the thoughts swirled, dark and unwanted.

He hadn’t felt like this in years. Not since before everything went to hell.

And now? Now this girl—this soft, sweet girl—had him unraveling.

Joel’s head thudded against the back of the seat, his pulse still racing. This wasn’t going to end well.

Not for him.

And definitely not for her.

· · ────

The following days were a blur of uncomfortable tension.

Joel tried to stay away.

He told himself not to go back to the store, not to linger around her.

He even went out on longer drives, tried to immerse himself in the things that usually kept his mind quiet.

But it didn’t work. Not anymore.

She was lodged in his thoughts, a constant, nagging presence that he couldn’t shake.

No matter how hard he tried to forget her, she always managed to crawl back in.

Her face, her voice, the way she smiled up at him like he wasn’t something to fear.

It gnawed at him, a reminder of everything he’d left behind.

A week passed before Joel saw her again.

This time, it was different. He wasn’t just there for supplies or to catch a glimpse of her. No, this time, he watched her more carefully.

Observing.

He kept his distance at first, lingering near the back of the store, eyes flicking toward her every few minutes as she worked.

She hummed to herself again, that same soft tune he’d heard the first time they met.

It wasn’t loud, barely audible under the sound of the store, but he caught it.

And it made something tighten inside him.

For a man who lived in shadows, always on alert, this brightness—this innocence��felt foreign. Her having no need to be quiet so she won’t be seen.

Wrong.

And yet, he couldn’t stop watching her.

She smiled as she spoke to a customer, her eyes lighting up as she handed them their change.

She was so goddamn open, so trusting. And that terrified him.

He told himself it was because she didn’t know better. She didn’t know what kind of world she lived in.

She hadn’t seen the things he’d seen, hadn’t done the things he’d done.

That was why he watched her so closely now.

He was protecting her. Keeping her safe.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

But it was more than that, wasn’t it?

The next day, she found him again, her voice soft but cheerful as she spoke up. “You’re back! Need anything else?”

Joel stared at her for a moment, his chest tightening at how easily she smiled at him. “Just… lookin’.”

She laughed, the sound light and melodic. “Well, if you ever need recommendations, I’m your girl.”

He tried to brush it off, tried to keep his voice steady, his eyes focused anywhere but on her.

But when she started talking about her weekend plans, everything shifted.

“I’m actually heading out for a solo trip this weekend,” she said, her voice filled with excitement.

“Found this beautiful spot just outside of town. Gonna do some camping, get away from everything for a bit.”

Joel’s blood ran cold.

Camping? Alone?

His jaw clenched as he stared at her, trying to process what she’d just said.

A girl like her? Out in the wilderness by herself?

The world wasn’t safe, and she was too naive to see that. She didn’t understand the dangers lurking just beyond the treeline.

“Where?” His voice was rough, demanding.

The softness from earlier was gone, replaced by the cold, hard edge that usually kept people at a distance.

She blinked, caught off guard by his tone. “Uh… it’s just a little spot out past the ridge. Really pretty.”

Joel felt his chest tighten.

“You shouldn’t go alone,” he said, his voice dark, laced with warning. “It’s not safe.”

She blinked, clearly confused by his sudden shift. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted, though there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice now. “I’ve done this before.”

“No, you won’t,” Joel growled, stepping closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming. “You have no idea what’s out there.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide, brows furrowed. “I—”

“You’ll get yourself killed,” he interrupted, his voice dropping lower, more threatening.

His paranoia was slipping through now, his need to protect her—to control the situation—overwhelming him. “You’re not prepared for what’s out there.”

There was a long pause, the tension thick between them. She opened her mouth to speak, but Joel wasn’t done.

“If you’re set on goin’,” he said, his tone calmer now, but still dark, “I know a better place. Secluded. Safe.”

His mind was spinning with the need to protect her, to make sure she was under his watch. “It’s past the ridge. You won’t find it on a map, but it’s perfect for campin’.”

That was his land. His very own property, tucked away from prying eyes, isolated and quiet. His land. Where he could keep an eye on her.

Her eyes brightened again, the tension between them easing just slightly. “Really? That sounds amazing! I’d love to check it out.”

Trusting so easily.

Joel nodded slowly, watching her carefully.

“I’ll give you the coordinates,” he said, his voice rough, his gaze still locked on hers. “Just… be careful.”

She smiled again, oblivious to the darkness brewing behind his eyes. “Thank you, Joel. I appreciate it.”

There's that damn blush again.

Joel nodded again, but his mind was already elsewhere.

She didn’t belong out there alone. And now, after hearing her plans, Joel knew what he had to do.

She wouldn’t be alone.

If she wouldn’t protect herself, then he would

· · ────

It happened by accident, really.

Joel had been driving through town, running his usual errands—another routine day where he tried to keep his mind occupied with anything but her.

It was something he’d been forcing himself to do for the past few days, convincing himself that the tension in his chest would ease if he just avoided her, if he didn’t let himself linger in her orbit for too long.

But fate had other plans.

As he turned down a quiet street on the edge of town, his eyes caught movement.

A figure stepped out of a small, unassuming house, barely noticeable in the corner of his eye.

Joel wasn’t even sure why he slowed down at first. He told himself it was out of habit, that old soldier instinct to assess everything in his surroundings. But the moment he saw her, all rational thought slipped away.

It was her.

She stood there, fumbling with her keys and a couple of grocery bags, her hair falling loose around her shoulders in soft waves.

Joel’s foot hovered over the brake for just a second too long as he watched her struggle to balance the bags and unlock the door.

Her face was flushed, lips moving as she muttered something to herself—a frustrated little quirk of her mouth that made his chest tighten.

There was something different about seeing her like this.

Here, in her space.

Not at the store, not somewhere public. But here—outside her home.

He felt a knot of something unfamiliar, something deep and possessive curl in his stomach.

She didn’t notice him at all. She was too busy juggling her things, her focus entirely on the door in front of her.

Joel’s gaze swept over her as he slowly rolled by, his truck moving at a crawl now.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, even though a part of him knew he should’ve kept driving.

But the pull was too strong.

There was a softness about her here that felt even more pronounced.

Her home, small and tucked away from the busier streets, suited her in a way that he hadn’t expected. It was unassuming, private, but open in a way that made Joel feel… unsettled.

Like she was too exposed, too vulnerable, and too easy to find. Too easy for someone to hurt.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened as the thought crossed his mind.

She had no idea how dangerous the world really was. How quickly things could go wrong.

He drove past, the truck moving with painful slowness, his eyes flicking from the road to her again and again.

She didn’t see him. Not once. And for some reason, that bothered him more than it should have.

She hadn’t locked the door when she finally went inside.

Of course, she hadn’t.

Joel’s chest tightened with frustration, his jaw clenching as he drove farther down the road, turning the corner and pulling to a stop just out of sight.

Now that he knew where she lived, something shifted. He couldn’t just drive away and forget about it. No, she was here, alone, with no sense of the dangers that could easily find her.

He shouldn’t care. It wasn’t his problem. She wasn’t his problem.

But that’s not how it felt anymore.

· · ────

It wasn’t until later that night, as he lay in bed, that the dream came.

It wasn’t like the usual ones—flashes of war, the men he’d fought alongside, the sounds of gunfire and the stink of blood.

This one was different and it hit harder than anything he’d experienced in years.

He dreamt of her.

Of her in that house. And something, someone, breaking in.

It was chaos.

She was screaming, fighting to get free, and all he could do was watch, powerless, as she disappeared into the shadows.

He woke up drenched in sweat, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest, the adrenaline surging through his veins.

For a moment, Joel couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been real—that she was in danger and he hadn’t been there to stop it.

His hand instinctively reached for the knife he kept near the bed, fingers gripping the handle like it was his lifeline.

His breath came in heavy bursts, his body rigid with the need to protect, to act.

He could still hear her screams, still see her face twisted in fear.

She wasn’t safe.

And it wasn’t just a dream. Joel knew then, in that moment, that he couldn’t let this go.

He couldn’t just stand by and hope for the best.

It was only a matter of time, before something bad would happen to her.

He had to make sure she was okay, had to make sure nothing like that ever happened to her.

And if that meant going out of his way to keep an eye on her, then so be it.

· · ────

The next day, he drove by her house again.

And the day after that.

Each time, he told himself it was just a precaution, just a way to make sure she wasn’t in any real danger.

He didn’t get too close, didn’t let himself be seen.

But every time he saw her, the tension in his chest loosened just a little, knowing she was still there, still safe.

He found out more about her routines—when she left for work, when she came back.

He watched as she went about her day, completely unaware of the eyes that followed her every move.

She wasn’t like the rest of the world—hardened and scarred by violence.

She was soft, untouched by the darkness that clung to everything Joel had known.

And that’s why she needed him.

· · ────

The more he watched her, the more he realized how easy it would be for something to go wrong.

A stranger could approach her on her walks, someone could break into her house, anything could happen.

And if he wasn’t there to stop it… she would be defenseless.

That feeling from the dream—the panic, the helplessness—still clung to him, gnawing at his gut like a festering wound.

He couldn’t shake it, couldn’t convince himself to turn around and go home.

That’s why he had started breaking into her house.

Naturally.

At first, it was just to make sure everything was secure.

He would check the locks, make sure the windows were latched, make sure there were no signs of forced entry.

But the more he let himself in, the more his reasons shifted.

He started checking her camping gear, making sure everything was in place.

Joel crouched down, fingers brushing over the rough material as he unzipped the bag.

His hands moved through her belongings with the same careful touch, checking each item she’d packed.

He frowned when he noticed some of the essentials missing.

No proper emergency gear. Not enough food. Definitely not enough water.

She wasn’t ready.

His chest tightened with a mix of frustration and concern.

She had no idea what she was walking into.

The wild didn’t care how innocent or sweet you were—it tore people apart.

And she was so damn trusting, so clueless about the danger that lurked everywhere.

Joel zipped the bag back up and stood, a plan already forming in his mind.

She couldn’t go out there alone, not without the proper gear. Not without protection.

He’d make sure she had what she needed.

He’d leave it for her—quietly, subtly.

She didn’t need to know he was the one watching over her.

She didn’t need to know just how deep his involvement went.

His feet led him down the hall, toward the room at the end—the door slightly ajar, a soft, warm glow spilling from inside.

Joel’s breath hitched as he stepped further inside, his boots nearly silent on the hardwood floor.

It was small, simple, but unmistakably hers.

A bed with a soft quilted cover, a small nightstand with a book left open, and clothes folded neatly on a chair in the corner.

Joel swallowed hard, his throat dry as his eyes roamed over the space.

He moved slowly, carefully, his eyes scanning the room like he was surveying a battlefield.

Everything was neat, untouched, just as he’d expected.

But as he stood there, something twisted in his chest. He wasn’t just here to check on her safety.

Something else caught his attention.

Her underwear.

At first, it was an accident. He wasn’t looking for it, but when he stumbled upon it—soft, lacy, and used—he couldn’t stop himself.

His hands reached for it before he even realized what he was doing, his fingers brushing against the delicate fabric.

His breath caught in his throat, his pulse quickening.

He shouldn’t be doing this. He knew that.

But the scent—her scent—was intoxicating, wrapping around him like a drug. His mind flashed with images of her wearing it, of her undressing, her skin soft and bare beneath his touch.

Joel’s grip tightened on the fabric, his body reacting in ways he hadn’t felt in years. His jeans grew uncomfortably tight, the throbbing between his legs impossible to ignore. He was so hard.

This wasn’t just about keeping her safe anymore. It was about something deeper, something darker.

He brought the fabric to his face, inhaling deeply, letting the scent of her wash over him.

His eyes fluttered shut, his mind filling with thoughts he had no right to think.

He hadn’t let himself feel something like this —this raw, uncontrollable hunger—but now, standing in her bedroom, holding something so private, so close to her, it hit him like a wave.

Joel inhaled deeply, the scent wrapping around him like a haze, flooding his senses. It was overwhelming, intoxicating.

His eyes fluttered shut, his breathing deepened, and the scent clung to him, almost suffocating him in the best way possible.

The sweetness, mixed with something so personal, made his heart pound harder in his chest, heat rising in his body.

She had no idea.

No idea what she did to him.

How that softness, that scent, chipped away at the walls he build.

His fingers tightened around the fabric as he held it closer, the warmth of her scent flooding his senses.

His mind was clouded with images—images of her.

She shouldn’t be this trusting.

He imagined her standing there, blushing, lips parting slightly, her soft voice spilling from them, completely unaware of the thoughts racing through his mind.

She was just too easy to picture—too easy to want.

too sweet.

Too soft. Too innocent for someone like him.

Joel’s grip tightened as he let his mind spiral deeper into the images of her—blushing, trembling, staring up at him with those wide, innocent eyes that would soon be filled with something else.

His fingers tightened around the fabric, his body responding in ways he couldn’t deny any longer.

He fought to steady his breathing, to push the dark thoughts from his mind, but they were there, lurking just beneath the surface, no matter how hard he tried.

He shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t want her. 

He wasn’t just imagining her anymore—he was feeling her, smelling her, letting her invade his mind and body in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

Joel’s jaw clenched, his breathing rough as he tried to regain control.

But the more he let the fabric linger in his hands, the more he realized—he didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to let go.

Joel stayed like that, frozen in the moment, inhaling deeply, the used fabric of her underwear still clutched in his hands as he lost himself in the dark, possessive thoughts swirling in his mind.

He knew it wouldn’t be the last time. He couldn’t stop now.

The pull was too strong, too overwhelming.

Without even thinking, he raised the fabric closer, his lips hovering just above it.

His heart pounded in his chest, a heavy, aching rhythm, the temptation crawling under his skin.

He hesitated for just a moment, knowing how wrong this was, how far he was crossing a line.

But it wasn’t enough to stop him.

Nothing could stop him now.

Joel’s breath hitched, and his lips brushed against the soft material, barely making contact at first.

He could feel the warmth, the faint trace of her cunt, lingering on the fabric, and it sent a wave of heat rushing through him.

His grip tightened.

The softness pressed against his mouth, and for a split second, he let his tongue flicker out, tasting her sweet pussy, just barely.

It was subtle, a hint of something forbidden, but it sent a jolt straight through him.

He felt himself tense, his body reacting in ways he could no longer control, the line between protection and obsession blurring even more.

He wanted more.

Before he could let his tongue get another lick, Joel heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening.

That did certainly stop him.

His body stiffened, and in a heartbeat, all the dark, twisted satisfaction evaporated, replaced by a surge of adrenaline.

His mind raced, his fingers trembling as he fumbled to put everything back exactly where it had been.

Not now. Not like this.

He moved swiftly but silently, making sure every trace of him disappeared. Every drawer closed, every fabric in place. He couldn’t leave any sign that he had been there.

His heart pounded against his ribcage as he slipped out of the bedroom, his movements precise, calculated.

Years of training kept his body moving even when his mind teetered on panic.

The soft sound of her footsteps reached his ears as she moved further into the house.

She was talking to herself again, that light, carefree tune that only made him more desperate to get out unnoticed.

She had no idea.

No idea that he had been so close, no idea of the thoughts that ran through his head while he held her soaked panties in his hands.

Joel paused at the back door, his body pressed against the frame as he caught a glimpse of her through the crack in the doorway.

She was still oblivious, setting her bag down, humming softly to herself. She hadn’t noticed anything. Not the disturbance in the air, not the faint scent of him that still lingered in the room.

So innocent. So trusting.

Must be nice.

He watched her for a moment, his eyes darkening as he observed her, standing there in the home she thought was safe.

He could still smell her on him, the faint scent clinging to his mustache, the lingering effect making his pulse quicken once more.

But he couldn’t stay.

Not now.

With one last glance, Joel slipped out of the house, his movements quick and silent.

He disappeared into the shadows just as she turned toward the hallway, completely unaware of how close he had been—how close he still was.

· · ────

Joel slipped into his truck with the stealth of a man used to evading detection, his heart still hammering in his chest as he turned the key in the ignition.

The engine rumbled to life, but his mind was elsewhere. 

The drive home felt longer than usual, each passing second a blur of adrenaline and frustration.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles white, his breathing uneven.

He could still smell her, the faint scent lingering on his clothes, on his skin. It was maddening.

He tried to shake it off, tried to ignore the throbbing ache that had been building since he smelled her sweet little cunt, but it wouldn’t go away.

When he finally pulled up to his house, Joel barely remembered the drive at all.

He parked the truck haphazardly, the door slamming shut behind him as he made his way inside.

His boots hit the wooden floor with heavy thuds, and before he knew it, he was leaning back against the wall in his living room, his breath still coming in shallow bursts.

His breath was ragged, the ache in his body refusing to subside.

The scent of her cunt—still clinging to his beard, his hands—seeped into his skin, a constant reminder of what she had stirred deep inside him.

He hadn’t felt like this in years, hadn’t allowed himself to. But now, there was no going back.

His cock throbbed painfully, straining against his jeans, and for the first time in so long, he couldn’t ignore it.

The need was unbearable, clawing at him, demanding release. He leaned back against the wall, chest heaving, every breath filled with the sweetness of her scent.

It was still there, on him, as if she hadn’t left.

His hand hovered over the bulge in his jeans, fingers twitching, as if fighting the urge to touch.

But the memory of her—the feel of her, the scent of her—was overwhelming.

He couldn’t stop now. He didn’t want to.

With a low growl, he gave in, his hand pressing against his cock, the pressure sending a shiver up his spine.

His jaw clenched as he slowly dragged his palm over the length, the throbbing only growing more intense. The sensation was too much, too sharp after years of nothing.

He hadn’t touched himself like this in so long, and the intensity of it almost knocked the breath out of him.

His cock twitched, hard and aching in his hand, the weight of it heavy as he gripped it tighter.

His breath hitched as he finally pulled it free, the cool air hitting his skin, but it did nothing to cool the heat that was coursing through his veins. fuck.

He stroked himself slowly at first, his rough palm sliding over the swollen, leaking head, the friction making him groan.

He thought he’d never feel this was again.

His mind was a haze of her—her softness, her innocence, the way she had smiled at him, so trusting, so sweet.

She didn’t know what she was doing to him. She couldn’t know.

But he did.

His pace quickened, each stroke more desperate, more insistent. The scent of her was driving him insane.

Sweet like her.

He licked his lips, trying to get some of that sweet, sweet taste back he had earlier.

His cock throbbed in his hand, hard and slick as he pumped it, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

Her face flashed in his mind again—those wide, innocent eyes, the way she had blushed when she looked at him.

She had no idea.

No idea how badly he wanted her, how much he needed her.

Joel’s grip tightened, his strokes rougher now, his hips jerking up into his hand as he chased that release, the pressure building fast.

His cock was pulsing in his hand, slick and hard, aching with the need for something he couldn’t name.

Something only she could give him.

His breath came in ragged bursts, his chest heaving as he pumped his cock faster, harder.

The tension coiled tight in his gut, every muscle in his body straining as the need for release consumed him.

He could almost taste her, the memory of her scent still filling his lungs, making his head swim.

With a rough, guttural growl, Joel’s body tensed, his vision going white as the tension finally snapped.

His cock jerked in his hand, the release hitting him like a storm, fierce and unforgiving.

He groaned low in his throat, his hips bucking as he spilled over his hand, the warmth spreading through him like fire. He hadn’t cum that much in years.

It wouldn’t stop coming out of him.

…well, this was new.

For a long moment, he stayed there, his breath coming in ragged, heavy gasps, his hand still wrapped around his now-softening cock.

The pleasure ebbed slowly, leaving behind a dark satisfaction that settled deep in his bones.

But it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

Because her scent was still there.

Her softness still lingered in his mind, wrapped around him like a shroud, and Joel knew—this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Joel’s mind flickered back to the map, to the spot he’d given her—the spot on his land.

He could see it clear as day, tucked away, isolated, surrounded by woods.

Tomorrow, she’d be out there, alone, completely unaware of what could happen.

His jaw clenched at the thought.

The world was dangerous, filled with things she couldn’t even begin to understand.

But he did.

His pulse quickened, that dark, familiar feeling tightening around his chest.

He’d keep her safe. He’d make sure nothing happened to her—not on his watch.

No one else knew the dangers lurking in the shadows like he did. She had no idea, no clue what she was walking into.

But he’d be there.

Watching.

And if anything—or anyone—tried to hurt her, they’d have to go through him first.

Joel swallowed hard, his fingers twitching at his sides. He’d seen too much, lost too much.

But not her. Not this time.

Tomorrow, he’d make sure she was safe… even if she didn’t know it.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

well… somebody needs therapy (me and him both)

I have no tag list for this (I’m old and will probably fail starting one) but if you comment on here I’ll remind you if there’s a new chapter!!

Deal?

xoxo

[the-thing-withfeathers]

i’ll do anything

requested

a/n: tysm to the anon who sent this request. i’ve been so keen to write it. i love a super menacing reader, i think its so funny to write them.

pairing: sabrina carpenter x reader

warnings: smut!!!, physical violence (not to either of the main characters), public sex, cursing, thigh grinding, finger riding, nipple play.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

you & sabrina decided to go out for dinner somewhere close to your apartment. you both had busy days and had no time or energy to cook.

you two were the it-couple of the century but you didn’t show yourselves much, valuing the privacy of your own home since you two were in the limelight so much.

due to this circumstance, you had your fair share of paparazzi follow you around when you did show your face.

when you two left the restaurant, there was a flood of paparazzi snapping photos of the two of you.

you were annoyed, you had a long day and you didn’t need any more of this. she was pouting, she clearly had just as shitty of a day as you. you gripped her hand and pulled her towards your car, trying to make a clear path for the two of you. you didn’t have security, it was just the two of you.

you snapped when you saw one of them shove sabrina, trying to get a picture. that was your girl, he had no right. in a fit of rage, you grabbed his camera and smashed it to bits. you followed by throwing a punch at him, your fist colliding with his face in no time.

sabrina jumped, shocked by your actions. she wasn’t afraid of you, she knew you were just protecting her. however, that protectiveness you were displaying, the furrow of your eyebrow, the hardening of your jaw… it was doing something to her.

“fuck off! or i’ll snap you in half!” you turned and told off a different man who was snapping photos of you breaking the camera.

the anger in your voice, the gritting of your teeth, it was beginning to get all too much for her. her thighs started to rub together as a last minute effort to contain the wetness pooling at her core.

you tugged her towards the car, opening the passenger seat for her. despite your anger, you were still polite, and that spurred her on even further. she was looking at you with bedroom eyes that were incredibly hard to miss. you leaned down to the seat and buckled her seatbelt for her, kissing her cheek in the process. she almost moaned just from that.

“glad you’re okay, baby.” you mumbled. you pulled away and shut the door, making your way to the driver’s seat.

you hopped in and buckled your seatbelt. you started the car and waited a couple of seconds.

“thank you for sticking up for me.” she said as you put the car into gear. she knew she couldn’t wait. she put the car back in park just as you were about to go. “now i need you to fuck me.”

you turned to her with wide eyes as you both undid your seatbelts. you had no idea you would get this reaction out of her. you reclined your seat, trying to move over to the back but she took that opportunity to straddle you in the driver’s seat.

“oh… you’re needy, needy.” you said, smiling as you felt her wetness on your stomach. you sat up and your fingers met her panties, circling the fabric. “sooo wet. did i really make you feel like this?” you asked, curiosity peaking.

the thought of the two of you getting caught was turning you on even further. the crowd of paparazzi just dispersed not even five minutes ago, you were sure some of them were lurking.

she nodded and bit down on her lip, her eyes fluttering shut as your fingers worked their magic. “mmhm… so hot seeing you angry…” she mumbled as you pulled her hips down to meet your thigh. she gasped, flinching a little bit. you loved getting a rise out of her.

“who’s my pretty girl?” you asked her, slowly moving her hips to grind on your thigh at a dreadfully slow pace.

“me… i’m your pretty girl.” she said, whimpering at how slow you were going. “stop teasinggg…” she said, prolonging her consonants.

“i’m not teasing, darling. you’re just so fucking needy.”

you grabbed her jaw in your hand, making her turn to look outside the car.

“look, you couldn’t even wait to get back home before needing me to fuck you dumb.” you said, growling under your breath. “such a good little slut for me.”

“yeah… yeah…” she said, under her breath, her eyes shut. “i’m your little slut. i love being your slut.” you could tell she was already sensitive, perhaps the overwhelming amount of arousal from earlier pushed her along further than you thought.

you raised your calf so your thigh pressed even harder against her core. you saw the wet patch start to form as she got herself off on the fabric of your pants. she gripped your shoulders, her acrylics digging into your shirt.

“mmph, fuck.” she said, leaning down to bury her face into your neck. “wanna cum, wanna cum for you.” she said, muffled.

“you cum when i tell you.” you said, yanking her hair back so she was sitting back up again. but you pulled her closer, placing your forehead against hers. “how bad do you want it?”

“so bad… so so bad… need to cum all over you.” she said, forcing her eyes open to make eye contact with you.

“you want me to let you cum?”

“please, pretty please. i’ll do anything.” she said, nodding.

you lifted the front of her skirt, pressing your thumb down on her clit every time she grinded towards you. she grunted softly as her clit hit your thumb every single time.

“you can cum, princess.” you nodded at her.

her breath started to hitch as her moans started to increase in pitch and frequency. she jolted as she finished all over your thigh, crying out a high pitched moan, her eyes squeezed shut.

you sighed, smiling at your work.

you fell back into the seat but pulled her along with you, capturing her lips in a forceful kiss. you pulled her upwards a little bit, lifting the skirt she was wearing so her entire ass was on display to the world.

“this is what you get. the world is gonna see just how desperate you are for me.” you laughed at the state of her. she was on your chest, her hands at your shoulders, her arousal dripping onto your bare stomach. you were suddenly pushing her panties down until they were at her knees.

you wrapped your arm around the back of her thigh, running a finger along her slit while nursing her cheek, pressing kisses to it as her eyes fluttered shut again.

her breath quivered as she tried to speak. “you’re just so hot… wanna ride your fingers.”

you figured you could do that.

“okay, baby. i’ll give you that.” you cooed. “but just you know.” you gripped her cheeks again. “it’s only cause i’m letting you have it.”

she nodded out of desperation.

you moved your hand to sit between the two of you, pushing her panties to the side once more. her mouth dropped open when you inserted a finger into her, quickly following up with a second one.

she moved her hips up and down, riding her fingers like her life depended on it. her hips bounced, raising up then slamming down on your lap.

you reached up to grope one of her tits, pulling her shirt down as you did. you toyed with the nipple, twisting it in between her fingers. you saw goosebumps travel across her chest along with a red blush.

you sat back up and took her other boob into your mouth, biting down on the nipple while you continued to play with the other one.

sabrina put her hands on the back of your head, pushing your face further into the soft pillow of her breast. you groaned softly, feeling the warmth of her chest.

she continued to get herself off on your fingers. you noticed her pace got sloppy when she started to fall back down harder after lifting herself up, you decided to help her out by pumping your fingers in and out of her.

“yes… yes. just like that.” she eventually had to stop lifting herself up, her legs starting to get tired. you continued to finger her, curling your fingers inside of her which got her thighs shaking.

you pulled your mouth away from her tit with a ‘pop!’ noise.

“you gonna cum again for me?” you asked, flashing her a cheeky and toothy smile.

“yes… keep going, i’m gonna… gonna cu—“ she couldn’t even finish her sentence before she reached her climax and was leaking all over your fingers. she cried your name out, pushing her body into yours.

she fell into your chest, you wrapped your arm around her back to hug her. your face softened a little bit when you saw her flushed and fucked out.

“good girl, that’s my good girl.” you comforted her. she whined softly, kissing you weakly.

“you need to stop getting angry, it makes me horny.” she coughed out, her throat was dry from her mouth hanging open so much.

“you understand that i will keep getting angry if it means we get to do this more?”

“please please please, don’t.”

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

the next day when you two woke up. both your phones had blown up overnight.

you woke sabrina up after checking the reason why.

a photo of sabrina flushed out against your chest, panting while her skirt rode up enough to see her panties, had gone viral.

she covered her face in embarrassment as you laughed at her.

“fuckin’ paparazzi.”