#this random truck driver

[ovrrdogg]

Hfjone au where instead of kidnapping people for his reality show he accidentally discovers twitch and starts a stream and becomes the most popular twitch streamer ever. People love tuning in to watch forest man and his wacky antics. They love the “larp.” Twitch keeps trying to get him to come to cons he can never attend. People make wildly popular edits and gifs of him to share on stan twitter.

Instead of getting people to entertain him, he works to entertain people.

[realtimefanduboutofcontext]

from the Resident Evil 2 dub; the trucker resolving Sherry's existance, please ?

SnapCube's Real-Time Fandub | "Resident Evil 2" (2019)

Requested anonymously

[clonebrainrot]

I am curious how prepared is tumblr for real ID compliance

[panb1mbo]

found a rlly nice and sturdy wood desk and i'm gonna sand it and stain it even though i've never done that before, wish me luck!!!

[mira0000000-blog]

**puts ong GG rev ost** WHAT A HEAVY DAY

[gojosconsort]

need more olderbf toji good lord what u wrote just blessed my eyes and I need more GRAHHHHHH

OLDER BF!TOJI ♡ // HEADCANONS 02

⁀➷ CONTENT. you're toji’s problematic younger girlfriend.

♡ PAIRING. afab!reader x older bf!toji

♡ WARNINGS. mdni. oral sex (m and f receiving), age gap, size kink, spanking, degradation, restraint, public/semi-public sex, choking, hair pulling, deepthroating, degradation, possessiveness

♡ NAV. 01 // 02

OLDER BF!TOJI who’s broke as shit but spots a patch of wildflowers by some random roadside—picks a messy handful—dirt, roots, and all—and shoves them at you, “ain’t much, but they’re yours, doll.”

OLDER BF!TOJI who’s waiting outside your shitty apartment when your ex shows up, banging on the door—toji’s on him in seconds, pinning him to the wall, “she’s done with your sorry ass, punk,” and that fucker never shows his face again.

OLDER BF!TOJI who takes you on a late-night ride in his truck, pulling off to some empty lookout spot next thing you know, you’re straddling him in the driver’s seat, skirt shoved up, bouncing on his fat cock while the windows steam up.

OLDER BF!TOJI who’s half-asleep in bed when you crawl under the sheets, teasing him awake with your mouth. he groans, “fuckin’ brat,” grabs your hair, and rams himself deeper down your throat ‘til you’re choking on it, “can’t even sleep ‘round you.”

OLDER BF!TOJI who catches you shivering on the walk home from some shitty bar, grumbling, “told you to bring a damn jacket.” but shrugs off his worn leather one, draping it over your shoulders and pulling you close to his side, “c’mere, i’ll warm you up.”

OLDER BF!TOJI who crashes on your couch after a job, too tired to drive home—you find him sprawled out in the morning, abs peeking from under his shirt, and he wakes up to you staring, “what, never seen a guy sleep before? make me coffee, lazy ass.”

OLDER BF!TOJI who ties your wrists to the headboard with his belt when you won’t stop mouthing off. then he’s pounding you into the mattress, rough and hard, loving how you squirm under his bulk, “too big? cry about it, doll.”

OLDER BF!TOJI who sees you struggling with a heavy bag of groceries outside your apartment building. he grabs it from your hands without asking, smirking, “you’re too damn small for this,” and carries it up three flights of stairs with you trailing behind.

OLDER BF!TOJI who loves when you ride his face, sprawling back on the bed or couch, pulling you down by the hips ‘til you’re smothering him. “grind on me, doll,” he mumbles into you, licking sloppy and greedy, holding you there ‘til you’re shaking.

OLDER BF!TOJI who’s sloppy with prep but doesn’t need it—his cock’s so big it barely fits anyway. “relax, you’ll take it,” he mutters, sliding in slow, then slamming deep, and he loves when you yelp and scratch the shit outta his back.

OLDER BF!TOJI who shows up at your place unannounced with takeout because “you didn’t eat, did you.” eats half of it himself, sprawled on your couch, then pulls you into his chest, mumbling, “don’t squirm, i’m comfy.”

OLDER BF!TOJI who loves finishing inside you after a rough fuck, pinning you down and pumping you full, “gonna fill you up, doll—fuck, you feel that? make me cum so fuckin’ much,” and he’s loves watching it drip out.

OLDER BF!TOJI who gets off on skirts ‘cause he’s loves fucking you in public—drags you somewhere half-hidden, hikes it up, claps a hand over your mouth, and mutters, “shut it, don’t need ‘em hearing,” while he fucks you fast and dirty and loud like he hopes you get caught.

OLDER BF!TOJI who gets quite jealous when some young guy flirts with you—goes dead quiet, then later he’s got you face-down, ass-up, snarling, “that little shit think he’s got a shot? too old my ass—tell me who’s fuckin’ you.” but don't worry, your screams fix his mood.

OLDER BF!TOJI who’s always working out—push-ups in the living room, dripping sweat, and he’s like, “sit on me, doll, gimme a challenge.” and you perch there, while he grunts, “fuckin’ lightweight,” and powers through.

————— ୨୧ —————

⁀➷ masterlist

[wolfwarrior142]

But ya also have to remember that the F-150 is the smallest "full size" truck that Ford makes. And thus also the weakest. It's a nice truck, better than nothing, great if that's all you can afford. But not the beefiest truck that Ford makes. There's also the F-250, F-350, and even the F-650 that's basically like a diet semitruck. We have a 2003 F-350- that thing has taken a beating and hauled lots of shit and does well with it. It has been out go-to hauling truck since we got it, even for pulling a trailer out in the pasture if needed (aka bumpy, uneven, sometimes muddy ground). And it's 21 years old. They chose the weakest - but still decently performing - Ford truck possible and put it up against a truck that's supposed to be amazing and beat out all competition. And Ford's weakest full sized truck still did better in some areas than the shit cybertruck.

[cherubcest]

[digitaldaydreamm]

we need more rafe and bsf reader content pls☹️☹️

unspoken claim

rafe x childhood friend!reader

| summary | you just got dropped off from a totally casual hangout with a guy, but you didn’t tell rafe—because, well, he’s not your boyfriend�� right?

warnings: possessive, overprotective, “he’s not even your boyfriend but acts like it” energy

a/n: i'm baaaaack, did you miss me? 🤭

masterlist

⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°

You barely notice the tension in the air until the car slows to a stop in your driveway.

“So, this is you?” the guy—Noah or Nathan or whatever—asks from the driver’s seat, drumming his fingers nervously against the wheel.

You nod, giving a polite smile as you unbuckle your seatbelt. “Yeah… thanks for driving.”

“It was fun,” he says, then hesitates. “So… who’s that?”

Your stomach dips the second you follow his gaze. There, sitting on your porch steps with his elbows on his knees, brows furrowed, is Rafe. His truck’s parked all jacked up in the driveway like he’d swung it in with no care for lines or curbs.

He’s not even looking at you. Just staring dead ahead, jaw tight, tongue pushing against his cheek like he’s trying real hard not to lose it already.

“Oh, uh,” you say quickly, fumbling with the door handle, “that’s just Rafe. He’s my—he’s basically my best friend.”

The words feel stupid as soon as they leave your mouth.

The guy raises his brows. “He looks… pissed.”

You force a laugh and open the door. “He always looks like that. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

You don’t wait for a reply.

The second your shoes hit the driveway, it’s like the energy shifts—hard. Rafe’s eyes finally meet yours, sharp and cold and unreadable. He stands up slow, all six feet and something of him, broad and angry and radiating that you’re in trouble silence.

You swallow. “Hey…”

He doesn’t respond. Just nods toward the car still idling behind you. “That him?”

You glance back, awkward. “Rafe—”

“S'that him?” he repeats, firmer now, like he’s two seconds away from walking up and yanking the guy out through the window.

“Yes,” you snap, suddenly annoyed. “Not that it’s your business.”

He scoffs, stepping closer until you’re practically backed into your own front door. “Not my business?” he laughs bitterly, eyes flicking down to your outfit—casual but cute, the kind of thing you only wear when you’re trying. “You went out with some random asshole, didn’t tell me where you were going, didn’t answer your phone—nah, you’re right, not my business at all.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh my god, Rafe, it wasn’t a date.”

He gets in your face then, low and intense, voice full of venomous sarcasm. “Ohhh, right. Not a date. Just you, dressed like that, giggling in some guy’s passenger seat, letting him drop you off like he’s doing you a fucking favor. Real casual.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“And you’re outta your fuckin’ mind if you think I’m just gonna sit back and watch you get played by some dude who probably asked you out on Snapchat.”

You shove his chest lightly. “Jesus, Rafe, chill.”

He catches your wrist, holding it—not hard, but firm. “You forget who the fuck’s always been here, kid?”

Your heart skips. That damn nickname.

“You think he gives a shit about you?” Rafe sneers. “You think he knows how you take your coffee? That you can’t sleep with the closet door open? That you cry during vet commercials when the dog dies?”

You try to pull your hand back, but he doesn’t let go.

“He doesn’t know shit about you,” he growls. “But I do. And I always fucking have.”

Your voice is small. “So what, Rafe? You jealous?”

His jaw ticks.

And then, suddenly, he lets go of your wrist, takes a step back, and rips his phone out of his back pocket. “Nah,” he mutters, turning away and heading back down the porch steps.

He turns, takes two steps off the porch, then throws a look over his shoulder with that unhinged kind of calm.

“Is that the little fucker you’ve been giggling on your phone with?” he spits. “That the reason you’ve been ignoring me like some bratty fuckin’ teenager?”

You blink. “I haven’t—”

“Save it,” he snaps. “You think I don’t notice when you switch tabs the second I walk in? When your phone’s flipped face-down every time I show up? You think I’m fucking stupid?”

“Rafe—”

“Don’t,” he cuts in sharply, marching to his truck, fury practically vibrating off him. “Next time he drops you off, tell him to stop halfway up the block—unless he wants me waiting at the curb.”

You cross your arms. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re lucky I didn’t pull him outta the car,” he says, climbing into his truck like he didn’t just full-on stalk your casual hangout and threaten a guy with only eye contact and attitude. “Next time you’re bored, call me. Don’t go playing games with little boys who don’t know what the fuck to do with you.”

You stare at him.

Then he slams the door, starts the engine with a roar, and peels out like he’s doing it for dramatic effect—like the growl of the tires is part of the statement.

You’re left in the silence, heart hammering.

Not his girlfriend. Not his problem. And yet...

(you still haven’t blocked your location on Find My Friends.) (and he still shows up.)

[ovulationation]

Big Girl

Pairing: bfd!Joel x reader

Summary: Joel Miller gets called to pick you and his drunken daughter up from a party. With a week left before you leave for college, Joel doesn’t think you’re ready for it.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected p-in-v (wrap it up, folks), daddy kink, praise, kitchen, creampie, best friend’s dad, age gap (reader is 19, Joel is around 40)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Sarah had been inseparable since kindergarten. You did everything together. Every all nighter, every time you needed a new dress for a school dance, every new trend you did together. Sarah’s parents worked a lot so she spent almost all her extra time at your house.

When high school came around things started changing. Sarah’s mom left and her dad threw himself into his work. Sarah started going wild and you went right along with her. You started sneaking out, hooking up with boys, and partying every weekend. You both graduated high school (barely) and somehow made it into the same college. With only a week left until you moved into your dorm. Everyone was throwing the last parties of the summer, eager to get last memories with their high school friends.

That’s how you got where you are now, the loud blaring of the speakers as you danced in the random basement of the night. Sarah was beyond tipsy, dancing on the beer pong table while the guys all ogled her body in her short skirt and tight top. You were, unfortunately, the designated driver of the evening. Leaving you with the slightest buzz that had all but faded away.

You pulled out your phone, cursing when you saw the time.

“We gotta go, babe,” you yelled to Sarah over the thumping bass of the speakers.

Sarah look down at you with a pout as you grabbed her arm and helped her onto the dirt floor. Her white sneakers landed in a puddle of something spilled and you winced.

“Don’t wanna,” she whined, throwing her head back for dramatic effect.

You patted her back as you pushed her through the crowd in front of you.

“I know but your dad is gonna be getting home soon and we gotta get back before he realizes we’re gone.”

Sarah groaned as you push her up the stairs of the basement and into the backyard. You led her to the car as you fished around in your handbag.

“Fuck,” you groan and lean your forehead against the window.

Sarah didn’t hear you, too busy flirting with some grimy Super Senior™ to realize you had somehow lost the keys to her shiny new graduation gift.

You pull her away from the walking STD, and pull her back to the car.

“I lost the keys, I need you to keep your hand right here and Don’t. Move.” You spoke slowly, pushing her hand against the hood of the car. She nodded slowly with drooping eyelids then giggled.

“You look soooo funny when you’re serious.” She laughed and stumbled. You shoot her a half serious glare and head back into the basement to search for the keys.

After fifteen minutes of searching the dirty floor with your phone flashlight and trying to shout at people through the loud music, you come back up victoriously holding the keys in your hand. Your victory doesn’t last long when you see Sarah standing next to the car, and her dad next to her.

“Oh shit,” you groan as you walk up to them.

“Oh shit is right,” Joel glares down at you, Sarah draped against his shoulder.

“I called my dad to help,” Sarah giggled.

“I can explain-“

“In. Now.” Joel growls, pointing to his truck.

You just nod and walk over to the car. Joel drags Sarah into the back seat where she promptly passes out. You jump into the front seat and Joel gets into the driver seat, grumpily buckling up and peeling out of the driveway.

The drive back is tense. Only the sounds of Sarah snoring and the low grumble of the road. Joel occasionally glances at you then back at the road, his grip tightening around the steering wheel. You pull down your tight fitting dress. Maybe he’ll go easier on you if you don’t look like you belong on a street corner.

The car pulls into the driveway and Joel pulls Sarah out. You walk behind him as he carries her into her bedroom. Every glare he throws your way makes you duck your head more.

You can’t remember a time when you saw him this mad, but you were usually sneakier than this. You guys had never gotten caught, you always got home on time and made sure any evidence was gone before a parent could find it. Usually you would be back at your house with your sweet, but unfortunately super gullible parents who didn’t think you and Sarah could ever do anything wrong.

You helped Sarah into some pajamas and hoped to sneak out of the front door. You carefully walked through the living room, trying your hardest not to make any noise. The sound of a cupboard slamming shut behind you has you almost jumping out of your skin. You jump around, looking straight at Joel.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Miller.” You immediately start.

“Look, I understand. You’re 19, you think it’s cool to go to parties,” Joel starts, his expression hard. He leans back against the counter, gesturing to the stool across from him. You scurry over and sit, pulling the hem of your dress down. “But this shit is dangerous. Y’all getting drunk and being around all those hormonal boys or God forbid getting behind a wheel.”

“I’m not drunk,” You argue, but one look from Joel has you shrinking back in your seat.

“You’re leaving in a week and you have no idea the shit that college boys think,” he crosses his arms across his chest. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up to his elbows showing off his muscular forearms.

“I’m a big girl I can handle it.” You shoot back with a bite.

His eyebrows raise at your tone and he pushes off the counter to stand at his full height. Looking down at your smaller frame on the stool.

You can feel a wave of rebellion coarse through you as you look up at him. Sarah spent most of her time over the years at your house so you never really got to know Joel. You would see him in passing or at big life events for Sarah, but you rarely had to deal with him one on one. The fact that he could just stand there and scold you like a child when he didn’t even know you made anger bubble up inside you.

“You’re a big girl?” He steps closer to you.

You nod, suddenly feeling like prey being hunted

“Y-yes,” you stumble.

“You don’t sound too sure, Darlin,” he smirks down at you.

His eyes travel down, down to the hem of your too-tight dress that had made its way dangerously close to the top of your thighs. You cross your legs and squeeze your thighs together, hoping to shield yourself from his sight and hoping to stop the dull ache that had started to form.

“These aren’t the boys you’re used to dealing with, these are men. Can you handle a man?”

You bite your lip at his words. Maybe you were drunk. There’s no way q your best friend’s dad was standing less than a foot in front of you, undressing you with those brown eyes. There’s no way he was flirting with you after chastising you not even a minute ago. There’s no way you were enjoying it.

You nod up at him. “I can handle a man.”

He grins down at you, “prove it.”

Those two words set something ablaze in you. In a flash you’re snaking your arms around his neck and bringing his mouth to yours greedily. He returns it hungrily, wrapping his arms around your back.

You stumble off the stool and his hands are immediately on your ass. You let out a little yelp and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You gasp into the kiss, breathing him in as he explores every inch of your tongue.

His hands grip your ass, supporting you as you jump back onto the counter, leaving him stand in in between your spread legs. The hard bulge in the front of his pants rubs again you and he lets out a low groan against your lips.

He detaches his lips from yours, dragging them down your neck. He ruts softly against your clothed core, making you whimper and close your eyes. He growls against your neck, continuing his assault. You reach down to the front of his pants, sloppily undoing his belt.

Your hand slithers into his pants, wrapping around his impressive length. Your thumb grazes over his silky tip and he hisses, pulling back. He grabs your wrist

“Not yet, baby,” he mutters, starting to slowly kiss his way down your neck.

“Need it,” You whine, trying to pull him back to you with your legs.

His hands move to your thighs, pushing them apart to stop them from pulling him in. He pulls back and looks down at you, his cheeks flushed, his lips swollen. He pushes the hem of your dress up to your waist, revealing the black lacy panties that you wore for the party.

He drops to his knees, staring at the little pretty pink bow sitting on the front. His eyes never leave yours as he takes the bow between his teeth, pulling it back and then letting go. Letting it snap back to your skin. You feel yourself clench around nothing beneath the fabric and bite your swollen bottom lip.

“Look at that bow,” he groans, pushing his face forward again. His nose rubs against the bow as he presses a kiss directly to your clothed clit. “You’re like a present, wrapped up for me.”

“Mr. Miler please,” you gasp, not sure how much more you can take.

“Please what, baby,” He presses another kiss to the same spot.

“Please just do something,” Your lips parting in a needy whine. You try to move your hips forward, desperate for more, but his hold on your thighs tightens, stilling your movements. You groan in frustration.

Joel slips his fingers into the side of your panties, stretching them and pulling them aside. He lets out a groan as he sees you finally. Your swollen pink folds slick with your own arousal. He presses another kiss, this time to your bare clit. You gasp and tug in his hair, he lets out a growl.

“You taste so sweet, darlin,”

His tongue darts out to tease around your bundle of nerves, licking circles around it but never hitting it where you want. You pant above him, letting out little whimpers as he teases you.

His hand moves travels from your thigh to your stomach. His fingers splay out against your skin and pushes you back until your back hits the cold granite.

Your fingers tug hard when his lips latch around your clit, suckling against it as his tongue massages the bud.

“Oh fuck,” you moan, bringing a hand up to your mouth to muffle your noises.

His hand that isn’t pinning you down into the countertop makes its way down. You feel a finger prod at your entrance and you gasp.

His finger slips in easily to your soaked hole. You bite down on your hand, trying to keep yourself from being too loud. You lift your head up, looking down at where he’s connected to you and find him looking directly at you. Your walls clench around him at the sight.

He slips another finger in, slowly thrusting them into you. Those brown pupils are blown wide in desire as he watched you whine, trying to grind down on him. He scissors those thick fingers inside of you and you moan, squeezing them.

He groans against your clit, sending vibrations up through your body like the best vibrator money could buy. You feel that ball starting to tighten deep in your abdomen.

“C-close, Joel, so close,” you gasp, groaning when that hand stops you from grinding against his face.

“Gonna cum on my fingers?” He asks, mouth still attached to your swollen bundle of nerves.

“Yes, yes, please,” you moan.

His fingers curl inside you, hitting that sensitive, spongey spot. That quickly sends you over the edge, your walls clamp down, fluttering around his fingers. You bite your hand, a few moans still coming through.

He continues to massage that spot inside you and suck on your sensitive clit, far past the last aftershock of your orgasm. You let out whimpers about him, your hands that were pulling on his scalp now trying to push him away as he licks up the last of your arousal. You pull him up and away from your sensitive core.

He brings the back of his hand up to his mouth, wiping away the slick left behind. His eyes never leave yours for a second.

You sit back up, your hands flying back to the front of his jeans. You push them down, his thick length popping out. You bite your lip at the sight.

“Like what you see?”

You look back up at Joel, a smirk on his face. You didn’t want to play, you just felt hot need pulsing through your veins.

You look directly into his eyes as you wrap your hand around him, pumping slowly. His smirk wavers at your light touch. You sweep your thumb across the tip, collecting the bead of pre-cum.

His breath hitches as he watches you bring your thumb to your mouth, licking the droplet. He groans deep in his throat at the sight. You grin up at him.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he growls, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock and resting it against your puffy folds. The underside of him rubs against your sensitive clit.

“Please fuck me,” you pout up at him. His face goes back to your throat, kissing and suckling the soft flesh.

“You want my cock, baby?” He groans at the base of your throat.

“Yes, please give it to me,” you whine. He slides through your slick folds, lubricating himself with your arousal. His tip hitches against your clit and you moan into his ear, clutching at his shoulders.

“Please, Joel, please,” you beg desperately.

He pulls back and grins at your flushed face, “love hearing you beg for me, sweetheart.”

He hands massage your thighs, pushing them apart. You grab the base of his dick, guiding the fat head towards where you need it most. You’re both panting, watching as he notches himself against your entrance.

He slowly starts to ease himself in, stretching you inch by delicious inch. You can’t remember the last time, if ever, you were stretched like this. He was right, you were dealing with men now. And you loved it.

You bite your lip to stifle your moan as he bottoms out inside you. He stills, panting but never taking his eyes off where you’re connected. His lips swollen in a pant as he throbs inside of you. You place slow kisses along his chest, urging him to move.

He groans as he pulls back, then snaps his hips forward. You whimper at the feeling.

“Taking me like a fucking champ, baby.” He praises and you clench around him, whining pitifully. “Taking it like such a big girl.”

You whine as he uses your earlier words against you. His hand pushes you back onto the countertop as he lazily thrusts into you. His hand wrapping around your dress bunched up at your waist. His other hand wraps around your ankle, bringing it up and over his shoulder, then the other one.

The new angle causes him to push his tip into that sensitive spot inside you. You let out a louder moan at the feeling.

“F-fuck,” you gasp, clenching around him. You feel that ball inside you start to tighten again.

“I’m not gonna last much,” you stop to moan again, as he kisses your calf. “Not gonna last much longer.”

The hand wrapped around your dress pulls you forward, making him reach deeper into you.

“Gonna cum all over my cock?” He groans down at you, using your dress as a handle to pull you back onto him over and over again as his pace picks up.

You nod and whimper.

His free hand snakes down to rub your clit in tight little circles, making you squirm under him and moan.

“Come on, baby, cum all over daddy’s cock.” He groans, his thrusts becoming sloppy and you know that he’s holding back on his own impending release.

His hand comes up to cover your mouth, his other hands still rubbing furiously against your sensitive nub. Something deep inside you snaps and send you tumbling over the edge, your vision going white as you clench around him hard. His thick cock still pistoning deep inside you.

His hand does little to muffle your moans and instead he pushes his thumb into your mouth. Your tongue wraps around him and you suckle greedily on the digit.

He groans at the sight, his hips snapping harder against yours.

“Not gonna last much longer, darlin,” his voice hitches when you graze your teeth along his thumb. “Where d’you want it?”

You let his thumb slip out of your mouth with a ‘pop’ and bite your lip. “Want it inside me, daddy.” You say, giving him a fucked out look.

His hips stumble as he looks at your pouty, swollen lips and wide eyes. “Want me to fill you up?”

You nod, his thumb still resting on your bottom lip, “please.” You beg.

He leans down, capturing your lips in his as he gives a few more sloppy, fast strokes. Then groaning into your mouth as he stills deep inside you, spilling his release into you.

You gasp as you feel the warmth spread through you, reaching deeper and deeper inside you. You swallow his moans, letting him rut inside you lazily as he comes down from his high.

He raises back up, pulling out of you. You’re so sensitive that you let out a quiet whimper at the feeling. He grabs a rag warm rag and starts slowly cleaning you.

Silence hangs in the air around you. You’re suddenly aware of everything that just happened. You just fucked your best friend’s dad. Your best friend’s dad just fucked you. Your best friend’s dad just made you cum twice on their kitchen counter.

And they were the best orgasms you’ve ever had.

He doesn’t say anything, just shoves himself back into his pants and fixes his clothes. You pull your panties back into place and shove your dress back down as far as you can while still seated on the counter.

“I’m on the pill.” You say, finally breaking the silence.

“Oh,” he grunts. “That’s good.”

“So we don’t need to worry about that,” you trail off.

The sound of a door squeaking open down the hall causes you to jump off of the counter. Fully pulling your dress back into place, you practically jump away from each other, standing on opposite sides of the island he just defiled you on.

Sarah stumbles into the kitchen, swaying back and forth. Running into one wall and pushing off of it just to run into another one. She stops when she sees both of you.

“I’m not drunk,” she slurs, pointing a finger at Joel. She pulls the handle of the fridge open far harder than needed, grabbing a bottle of water, and slams it closed again.

She turns around on wobbly legs, then stops and glares at him again.

“You weren’t being mean to her were you?” She points a shaky finger towards you.

He smirks and darts his eyes over to yours, his eyes raking back down your body. “No, I was very nice to her.”

You shudder under his gaze.

“Good,” Sarah stumbles over to you, grabbing you in a too-tight hug and starts to drag you down the hall to her room. Her drunken, tear-filled voice travels back to the kitchen “Cause she’s my best friend and no one is allowed to be mean to her or I’LL FUCK THEM UP.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: this is literally the first thing I have ever written, if you’ve made it this far thank you so much!! (I’m usually not this freakay I promise)

[todays-xkcd]

If they're going to make people ride bikes and scooters in traffic, then it should at LEAST be legal to do the Snow Crash thing where you use a hook-shot-style harpoon to catch free rides from cars.

Urban Planning Opinion Progression [Explained]

Transcript Under the Cut

Typical urban planning opinion progression [Each panel is connected to a point on a timeline]

Cueball: I wish there wasn't so much traffic to get into the city. They should put in more lanes. Megan: And more parking. Megan: Parking is so bad here.

Knit Cap: I have to go to Amsterdam for work next week. I hear they all ride bikes there. Ponytail: Bikes are fine but people shouldn't ride them in the street! I worry I'm going to hit someone!

Cueball: It would be nice if we had better transit options! Cueball: I tried a scooter. It was fun but I wish there were more bike paths.

Megan: It's funny how widening roads to speed up traffic makes them more dangerous to walk near, making driving more necessary and creating more traffic. Megan: Really makes you think.

Knit Cap: Visiting the Netherlands was cool! Knit Cap: Amsterdam is really neat.

Cueball: We've ceded so much of our land to storing and moving cars, with the rest of us tiptoeing around the edges and making drivers mad for trespassing on "their" space. Cueball: Even though we're the ones in danger from them!

Megan: Those giant trucks with front blind spots that keep hitting kids should be illegal.

Knit Cap: We should be more like the Netherlands. Knit Cap: They design their street to prioritize...

Cueball: The problem is car culture. It's systemic. Cueball: I don't know if we can fix it.

Megan: People approach road planning decisions from the point of view of drivers because that's how we're used to interacting with the city, so we make choices that make it more car-friendly. Megan: It's a vicious cycle.

Knit Cap: Netherlands! Netherlands! Netherlands! Netherlands!

Cueball: Anything that makes a city a worse place to drive in makes it a better place to live, short of scattering random tire spikes on the road.

Megan: Honestly, I think the city council should consider the tire spikes thing.

[lazysoulwriter]

reckless kisses - rafe cameron.

You never exactly considered yourself reckless—at least, not in the way people talked about Rafe Cameron. The name alone came with a warning label. The Pogues whispered about him like he was some mythical villain, and the Kooks… well, they either idolized or feared him.

You, on the other hand? You just thought he was hot. Too hot. That buzzcut? Girl, please. It did something to you. And the worst part? He knew it.

You’d caught him staring at you before—sometimes in that lazy, half-lidded way that made your stomach flip, other times with a smirk that felt like a dare. But you were never the kind of girl who just sat around waiting for things to happen.

So, one random summer night, standing in the middle of a Kook party you didn’t even want to be at, you threw a ‘fuck it’ into the universe and marched straight up to him.

“Hey, Cameron,” you said, plucking the red Solo cup from his hand and taking a sip. Whiskey. Strong. “What’s up?”

His brows lifted slightly, caught somewhere between amusement and curiosity. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip before answering. “Didn’t think you knew my name.”

You snorted. “Please. Everyone knows your name.”

Rafe chuckled, tilting his head as he looked you over. “You drunk?”

“Nah. Just feeling bold.”

You saw it—the flicker of interest behind his blue eyes. He leaned in slightly, just enough to make your breath hitch. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you hummed. “And I was thinking… you should sneak me out of here.”

His lips curved into that dangerous smirk, the one that made bad decisions feel like the best ideas. “Oh, I should, huh?”

“Mhm.”

He didn’t even hesitate. Rafe grabbed your wrist, leading you out of the house like he had a mission, barely acknowledging the people who called after him. You grinned as he dragged you toward his truck, shoving you inside before climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Where we going?” you asked as he started the engine.

Rafe glanced at you, eyes sharp with mischief. “Somewhere private.”

You had approximately thirty seconds before his truck rolled out of the driveway, and in that time, you made another split-second decision: you climbed onto his lap, straddling him with zero hesitation.

“The fuck—”

You cut him off by grabbing his face and kissing him. Hard. His hands immediately flew to your ass, fingers pressing into your skin, and when you rolled your hips just slightly, he groaned against your lips.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered before flipping the situation—literally. In one swift move, he had you pinned against the leather seat, mouth sliding down your jaw, hands roaming your sides like he needed to touch every inch of you.

“You’re insane,” he murmured between kisses, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling back just enough to look at you.

“You like it,” you shot back, breathless, grinning up at him.

His fingers trailed under your shirt, teasing the edge of your waistband. “Yeah,” he admitted, smirking. “I fucking do.”

And just like that, you fucked Rafe Cameron for the first time in his truck.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Unfinished Business

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Serial Killer!Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: talk of beating/raping women and children (implicit, just mention), near drowning/death, car crash

Summary: You’re the most wanted woman in the country, and the BAU finally has you in its grasp. You hunt and kill truly evil people but it doesn’t seem to matter to the authorities if the victims are rapists, killers, and abusers. You’re doing this country a favor and you’re not finished. It doesn’t matter if you’re caught or not. You’re going to find a way to continue your work.

Square Filled: criminal au (2022) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

If the damn clock wasn’t bolted to the wall, you would have ripped it from the plaster and shattered it to pieces. You’re not supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be at home snuggling with your dog who you presume is missing you. Your sister knows to take him in if she doesn’t hear from you within twenty-four hours so you have no doubt he will be taken care of.

Instead, you’re sitting handcuffed to a table in the BAU.

You’ve been on the FBI’s Top 10 Most Wanted for three years now for your notorious work in slicing up men and women who deserve it. Every single one of your victims was far from innocent, but the FBI doesn’t care if you’ve been cleaning house. All they care about is the fact you have hundreds of victims under your belt.

You’ve been killing since you were a child because your father got you into it. It started with random strangers on the highway (he was a truck driver and would pick them up). He’d get them talking and if he so much got an inkling that they were less than innocent, he’d kill them. He taught you to wear gloves, clothes that don’t fit you, shoes that were slightly too big for you, to always have a wig on, talk with an accent, and never trust anyone.

He was never caught and died almost a decade ago. Now you’re left to continue his work.

Men who rape. Men who kill for fun. Men who abuse. Women who abuse. Women who kidnap. They’re all fair game. You’re ridding the world of evil one person at a time.

The reason you’re sitting here and not at home drinking wine is that you decided it was best to work with someone to take down a small group of abusers. The group was small, maybe five or six men, but they went out and assaulted women at night and left them for dead. This other person who you shall not name knew your father and reached out to you. He wanted to work with you in bringing the group down and you trusted him enough to agree.

Your first mistake.

Your second is when you gave him the task of finding an easy way out in case something went wrong. Something did. There was another man in the house who called 911. Your “friend” got away. You got caught. When the FBI realized who they caught, you knew you wouldn’t be getting out of this alive. There have been two dozen confirmed victims of yours but you know that number is well into the three hundreds by now.

You’ve saved a bunch of men, women, and children from getting abused and hurt, and there isn’t a thing you’d change if you could do it all over again.

You’ve been sitting in this godforsaken room for nearly twenty minutes. Maybe that’s their tactic. Maybe they want you to slowly go insane so you’ll confess to more crimes. You were born at night, not last night. At best, you’ll get three consecutive life sentences. There is no way you’re going to ever see freedom… that is if you were completely alone in this. There is a reason why your father was never caught. He has friends on the inside that you can turn to, so you know you’ll be okay if you get sent to jail.

You tap the metal table with a perfectly manicured nail when the door opens and a black man walks in with a thick file in his hands. Damn, he’s not the one you were hoping would come in. The one who apprehended you was white, and he had the most beautiful brown eyes. Lean but not too skinny. Curly hair. Such beautiful features.

The man sits across from you and lays out pictures of men you’ve killed over the years. They are unsolved cases but the FBI doesn’t know that you’re responsible for them. You keep your eyes on the man as he lays out six photos of men.

“Where are they?”

“What, no introduction? No, ‘How’s it going?’ I don’t get any of that?”

“My name is Agent Morgan, and you’re going to tell me where you buried their bodies.”

“Bold of you to assume I killed them.”

Agent Morgan takes out six more photos and lays them underneath the men’s portraits. Each of the new photos is of their crime scenes. You left a lot of blood behind but none of it is yours.

“Do you know what a signature is?” You don’t answer. “You like to leave behind a name written in your victim’s blood.” In each of the photos, you can see the name you wrote on their walls or mirrors. “Femme Fatale. No one else does that but you. So, I’ll ask again, where did you bury their bodies?”

“Mmm. Ask me again. This time, add ‘please’,” you smirk.

“This is not a game, Y/N. Tell me where they are and maybe we can work out a deal.”

“I’m already seeing three consecutive life sentences for the murders you’ve already pinned on me. Unless your deal is me walking out of this building without so much as a scratch on my record, I’m not telling you shit.”

Agent Morgan nods and gathers the photos. He’s done. He knows he’s not going to get anything out of you right now. He opens the door to leave but you stop him before he can.

“When you’re ready to come back, bring in the cute one. I have a thing for brown eyes and curly hair.”

Agent Morgan all but slams the door on his way out. It’s an hour before someone comes back to you, and this time, it’s who you want.

“Ah, there he is,” you grin and sit up straighter.

“So, I’m the cute one?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Ooh, a doctor. I’m impressed. You look so young.”

Spencer opens a file and takes out pictures, different than the ones Agent Morgan showed you. They’re of your apartment, more specifically, the room you have hidden underneath your stairs. You have a basement in the house but the stairs to it are located underneath your staircase going to the second floor. The door is only accessed when you pull up the last step of the staircase. You had that installed when you bought the house so that your extracurricular activities can remain a secret.

Inside the basement are records of the men and women you’ve killed, where you’ve put their bodies, future victims on your list, and people you are suspicious of. You hate that they found that, but it doesn’t matter. You have many houses across the country and even one in Europe that all have the exact same information. If your father taught you anything, it’s to keep backups and backups of your backups.

The only difference is that every safehouse has a different list of different men and women. There are a lot of evil people on this Earth, and you’ve only worked in one country. Imagine what you’d find in Europe.

“We know you’ve killed more than two dozen. It looks like hundreds.”

“What else do you know?”

“I know that you’re smart--smarter than you’d have us believe. I know that you like to work alone. With a rap sheet like yours, you can’t trust anyone. It’s the reason you got caught. The one time you trusted another person, they let you down.”

“So, you’re not just pretty, you’re smart, too.”

“You can deny it all you want, but the facts are right here.”

“I’m not denying any of it. I killed them. All of them. You know where their bodies are. You don’t need a confession out of me which makes me think you wanted to see me.” You grin and lean forward as much as you can. “Isn’t that right, Spencer? You just wanted to talk to me.”

“I’m going to make sure you don’t see the outside of a prison for the rest of your life,” he whispers.

“I like it when you talk dirty to me,” you smirk and lean back.

“We will be transporting you to a high-facility prison before sunrise.”

“As long as you’re in the car with me.” Spencer doesn’t say anything and cleans up the photos from the table. Like with Agent Morgan, you don’t let him leave just yet. “I’m not a bad person, Dr. Reid.”

“According to your basement, you’ve killed over three hundred people.”

“Richard Sigler was raping his six-year-old daughter. Her own mother didn’t believe her when she told her about it. Benjamin Cross has beaten and raped ten women over the course of a month. He was about to add an eleventh victim when I caught up to him. Alexis Greene aided her husband in kidnapping three children. I was with my sister’s kids when she tried it with me. She never got to a fourth.” You rest your elbows on the table. “I never hurt innocent people.”

Spencer doesn’t say anything and leaves the room. It’s another two hours before you’re placed in the back of a car with Spencer behind the wheel. Luck must be on your side because you two are alone.

“What, no one else is going to join us?”

“They didn’t need to. It’s a short drive.”

“Lucky me,” you grin. “So, since I’ll probably never have a genuine conversation with anyone else, tell me about yourself.” Spencer doesn’t answer. “Let me guess, you’re a reserved know-it-all. Secret romancer? Kinky in bed?”

“Shut up,” Spencer sighs.

“Ah, so you’re kinky, huh? What are you into? Personally, I love being tied up. Choking is a big one.”

“Like I’m going to tell you what I’m into.”

“You don’t have to. I can read people pretty easily. You’re an open book.”

Spencer tries to focus on the road but it’s snowing pretty hard. He didn’t know there would be a snowstorm soon. He thought he’d be able to drop you off and return to the BAU before it hit. He turns the windshield wipers on but it doesn’t do much for the snow pouring down.

“Maybe we should pull over. Get nice and cozy in here,” you chuckle.

“And give you a chance to escape? No way.”

“I have cuffs on, Spencer. You’re the one in control. That’s one of your kinks, right? Being in control.”

“Okay, right now, I need you to shut up.”

You do only because the car is shaking. There must be black ice on the road, and Spencer is trying his best not to skid too much. Spencer doesn’t look nervous but you can tell by his labored breathing and the slight perspiration on his forehead that he’s nervous as hell. The only reason you are, too, is because there is a giant lake to the right of you, and you’ve seen too many movies where cars skid on black ice and end up in lakes.

“Spencer, maybe you should pull over,” you say seriously.

“Don’t tell me how to drive.”

The streetlights barely give Spencer enough light to see the road in front of him, and the snow piles onto the windshield faster than the wipers can remove it. Spencer jerks the wheel to the right to avoid a pothole when the car is caught on a sheet of black ice. The car spins in circles before plunging into the freezing cold waters of the lake. Spencer’s head slams into the steering wheel and is knocked out immediately. Water rapidly fills the car, too fast for your liking. You take off your seatbelt and squat onto the seat so you can slide your cuffed wrists underneath your feet. You’re very flexible for someone your age, and you’re thanking your sister for pushing you to do yoga.

You hop into the front seat and ram your elbow into the passenger window. When all you get is a bruised bone, you know you have to try something else before all of your oxygen is taken from you. After all you’ve done, you’re going to let something like this take you out. The water has reached your chest now, and you open the glove compartment for something hard to break the window.

This is a cop’s car, so they have the tools needed to break open windows. You grab the small tool and slam it into the window. It shatters immediately, and you quickly swim out of the window into the dark lake. You’re about to swim to the surface when you look back at Spencer. You can’t leave him there. He’s going to drown. He’s innocent.

You don’t hurt innocents.

You swim to the other side of the car and use the same tool on his window. You reach in and grab him only to realize that he still has his seatbelt on. The tool you have is also good for cutting seatbelts, so you slice his lap belt and pull him out of the car. It’s hard since you’re handcuffed but you have to get him out of the lake.

Your lungs burn from not having enough oxygen, and black spots start to form in your vision. No matter what, you have to get to the surface before you pass out. Just when you think you’re going to suck in a lungful of water, you break through the surface. You struggle to keep both your head and Spencer’s above water but you manage to swim to the edge of the lake. You push Spencer onto the ground and heave yourself next to him.

Shit, you’re freezing. You reach into his pockets and see if there is a key for your handcuffs. Again, luck must be on your side because there is. You unlock the cuffs and place one of them around Spencer’s wrists and the other to the very thin light pole next to him. You can’t have him following you. You look at Spencer’s face to see him paler than before with blue lips.

“Spencer!”

You lean over him, place your lips over his, and blow into his mouth. You pull back and start doing three chest compressions. You repeat the process five times before Spencer coughs up a bunch of water.

“Oh, thank God,” you sigh. “You’re alive.”

“What happened? How did you…?”

“Sorry, babe. I gotta go before they realize you’re missing.”

Spencer jerks his body only to realize he’s handcuffed to the light pole. You grin and hold up the key to the cuffs. You toss them over to him but they’re just shy of his feet. If he stretches hard enough, he’ll reach them but only after he gets his strength back.

“No, get back here right now or I’ll--”

“You’ll what? Arrest me?” You take a few steps before turning back to him. “Don’t take this personally. I have a list to complete. Oh, soft lips by the way. If things were different… As much as I like you, I really hope I don’t see you again.”

Spencer sits helplessly and watches you parade off into the night. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever see you again but he’ll try like hell to make sure he does.

x

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[bekkathyst]

I have now gotten two mysterious Amazon packages delivered to me with my name and address on them that I never ordered.

The first was some kid bunny ears and a small set of Minecraft legos, so I automatically assumed that someone sent that to us for the kiddo for Easter. There was no gift message included, so we didn't know who.

But then after asking all our friends and relatives, we realized that no one had ordered them. Weird.

Then, today, I hear a truck pull up and I jokingly said to Antonio "hey, maybe it's another mysterious package!"

So I looked out the window, and it was indeed an Amazon delivery driver. He dropped a package at our front door and left. No way.

I picked it up. Printed on the outside of the box was a picture of a toilet seat, and that was exactly what was inside. I felt absolute disbelief at this point. Our toilet seat had just started getting wonky like a week ago and I was thinking that I should replace it soon. The only person I said this to was Antonio. Neither of us ordered it, and if we had, we wouldn't have used Amazon anyway. Wtf. Not only that, but it perfectly fit our toilet?? Which, okay, there can't be that many sizes that exist so that's probably just a coincidence.

And again, no gift message or anything like that. Not that I wouldn't expect there to be, but I searched the package multiple times for some kind of explanation. Nothing.

It would be funny if it wasn't so weird. Idk what to make of any of this. Everyone in our lives swears they haven't sent us anything and I mean I believe them because it's such a random assortment of items.

I contacted amazon and they basically said "we can't tell you who purchased it because you didn't, but don't worry you can keep the items. If you don't want them, just give them away"

This is definitely the weirdest thing to happen so far this year lol

[the-thing-withfeathers]

gunshots, gods, & getting fucked (b.e.)

warning: SMUT SMUT SMUT! gun usage, violence, bank robbery, mention of cops. fingering, oral, strap-on usage, pet names, praise.

your hands gripped the steering wheel tight, your knuckles were turning white. your eyes scanned the dark and empty road for any sign of flashing lights.

you were growing bored, but you had to stay focused.

the radio was playing the faintest of tunes, you mouthed the lyrics as you looked into the void, only being illuminated streetlamps.

and then there was an alarm.

your eyes flicked to the bank’s entrance as the car’s engine sprung to life. your eats started to hurt at how loud the alarm was.

you thought she was more careful than that.

you saw your raven-haired partner sprint out the doors, the duffel bag she was carrying looked like it was about to burst open.

she swung the passenger door open, practically leaping into it.

“drive!”

you didn’t waste a second before your foot slammed onto the gas. you drove off, your tires screeching as you took a hard right at the end of the street.

“what the fuck, bils?!” you asked her, frustrated. “you said you wouldn’t set it off!”

“yeah, look. sometimes things go wrong.” she scoffed, “anyways, i have the money. it’s up to you now, baby. get us outta here.”

you chuckled dryly. of course she managed to sweet talk you despite nearly butchering the whole operation.

“you look so fucking pretty behind the wheel.” billie grinned at you, she lowered the mask she was wearing and leaned over to press a kiss to your neck.

“enough, tiger. i need to focus.” you elbowed her softly, she laughed softly and leaned back in her seat. “save it for when we’re in the clear.”

it was like the universe was trying to be funny. just as you said that, you heard sirens getting closer to you.

“fuck.” you hissed, looking in the rearview mirror. you saw a cop car tailing you, you changed gears and the two of you jolted forwards as the car sped up.

billie leaned forward and popped the glovebox open, pulling out a pistol. she grabbed an ammo magazine from the middle compartment and loaded the gun. she pulled her mask back up and turned around to gauge what she was dealing with.

“hold on, we might not need it.” you warned her. billie tended to have, what they called, a trigger finger. she got a little too excited to sport the gun in her hand.

you saw her blow a raspberry as she slumped back in her chair. you found her cute like that.

you made a sharp left, turning into a busier road. you made risky swerves, cutting in between available spaces when you could. then you turned a random corner, spotting an alleyway.

you quickly parked in it, killing the engine. you signaled billie to be quiet, your eyes never leaving the rearview. you saw as the cop cars sped by quickly. you gave it a few seconds before turning the engine back on and reversing back onto the road.

you made sure to keep the car quiet as you made your way to the bridge that allowed you to get into the next city over.

three cop cars managed to spot you just as you entered the bridge, quickly speeding after you.

“jesus billie.” you groaned softly. “made yourself a bit of a threat there.”

“luckily, i have the best getaway driver ever.” she poked your shoulder.

“i can only do so much.”

you conquered any gap that you were allowed. but you saw in the distance that oncoming traffic was starting to slow down as more cars started to pile onto the lanes.

the three cars behind you managed to take over all the lanes, one on each. you couldn’t back out now. you started to sweat a little, worrying that you might not make it out fast enough.

and then you spotted it.

a huge semi-truck, it’s shadow was hiding the cars beside it.

you squinted slightly and managed to read its license plate.

BRT 365.

you almost called it a victory, but you weren’t out of the woods yet.

as you were about to make your move, one of the cop cars bumped into your rear. it sent you and billie forward a little.

you looked over to her to make sure she was okay, but she was only frustrated. you could tell she was getting close to scratching that itch, and you needed more time.

“hey bils.” you called after her, grabbing her attention. she turned to you and raised her eyebrows in anticipation.

“give ‘em hell.”

she licked the top row of her teeth, donning an almost sinister smile. she cocked the gun and rolled her window down. she elevated herself and stuck her head and arm out the window.

she pointed the gun directly at the cop car’s wheel.

“fuck you.” she said as she fired, hitting the tire dead on. you watched in the rearview mirror as the car veered off to the side and crashed into the bridge.

the driver of the car fumbled with the radio, most likely signaling that you were armed.

the other two cars were nowhere to be seen, hidden behind layers and layers of other cars. you saw your chance.

you lined the car up with the underbelly of the semitruck, spotting it’s mechanism that you & its driver built yourself.

“watch this.” you said to billie. you swerved into the underside of the truck, latching onto the mechanism.

the metal platform started to lift the car up into the truck, you turned the engine off to make it easier.

when you were completely inside and the bottom of the truck closed itself off, you exited the car.

“that was some mighty fine timing, charli!” you called out to the woman behind the wheel.

“thank me later, we’re nearly back at the safe house.” she said, her thick accent was reassuring.

you leaned against the car, your arms crossed over your chest as your girlfriend rounded the car, standing in front of you.

“look at you, pretty. proper criminal.” she said, her hands finding their way to your waist. she yanked you forward and connected your lips in a deep kiss. it was immediately heated, you knew successful missions like this turned her on like no tomorrow.

you giggled softly and put your hands on her shoulders. “nice shooting.” you pushed her backwards slightly, she groaned at the loss of affection.

you smiled to yourself, making your way to charli’s passenger seat. billie still set off the alarm, so you had to deprive her just a little bit.

—

you hopped out of the passenger seat once you reached the safehouse, smacking your hand on the side of the truck twice. you made your way back to the car as charli opened the back.

you drove out of the truck and parked the car in the garage.

“we’ll dump it tomorrow night, we just have to let the police cool down their search.” you said, shutting the car door behind you. billie took out the duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder.

she reached for your hand as she walked towards the back door entrance to your safe house. you jogged a little to grab it, intertwining your fingers together.

“i’ll see you guys next week. night, night!” charli called after the two of you, mounting her motorbike and driving off. you waved after her and so did billie.

as you two made your way to your shared bedroom, billie howled in excitement. she tossed the bag on your bed and unzipped it, turning it over and emptying it right on the bed.

“fuck yeah, baby!!!!” she exclaimed, whooping and turning to hug you. she lifted you a little and spun you around. you laughed and whooped just the same.

she set you down and grabbed your face with both her hands, “my fucking princess, you and your cars are a fucking supernova.” she said, smashing your lips together in a fiery kiss.

you wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her closer. she set her hands on the back of your thighs and you jumped, wrapping your legs around her waist. she turned 90 degrees and set you down directly on the cash.

oh, this was interesting!

she nearly tore off your pants, not even bothering to take your other clothes off. she planted your feet on her shoulders as she knelt down in front of your already dripping cunt. you could head your heart pounding in your ears, this turned you on a little too much.

“fuck baby, does robbing a bank turn you on?” she chuckled, running a finger up and down your opening. “or was it the getaway?” she asked, tilting her head.

you nearly let out a whimper as you shook your head. “no…” you answered.

“no? what was it then?” her piercing eyes looked up at you from where she was.

“you shooting that gun… that was so fucking hot.” you confessed, your hips rolling on her finger. she let you continue that motion, you were the reason she got away. she had to reward you for that.

“oh really? you flatter me too much…” billie smirked, her gold teeth flashing in the light of your bedroom. her finger hit your clit, you hissed at the contact, your hips bucking upwards.

“billie, c’mon, please?” you begged her, you needed her to make you feel good.

“i suppose so, because you’ve been such a good girl. my fucking supernova.” she said, leaning down and diving into your pussy.

she pressed her tongue flat against your clit and shook her head quickly. you were leaking all over the cash, you knew it would ruin some of the bills. but you didn’t care, and neither did she.

you let out a sharp moan as she put two fingers in you. she was devouring you like she was a woman starved, lapping at your arousal like it was the only thing she could ever eat again.

your thighs tightened around her head, you could tell she was enjoying it. she loved being suffocated between your thighs.

her fingers pumped in and out of you quickly, she wanted to please you too. she curled her fingers inside of you, coaxing another moan out.

you felt a white-hot flush run through your body and settle in the pits of your stomach. it didn’t take long for you to give her a warning.

“billie— oh fuck, i’m gonna cum!” you cried out to her, your hands gripping the sheets and the bills that laid on top of them.

you thanked whatever otherworldly presence was looking out for you that she didn’t stop. she gave you silent permission with her eyes, those fucking eyes.

your back arched as you reached your climax, and she lapped everything up. she refused to leave anything behind.

when she was done, she walked off to the closet, and you knew exactly what she was after. she came out with a black silicone cock sitting perfectly strapped around her waist.

you felt yourself gush at her stance. you sat up, backing up into the bed and she climbed on it to hover above you.

the wads of cash followed the two of you, sinking into the mattress until it was under your back.

“you’re already so wet, don’t even need to use lube.” she said, mockingly. “does my cock make you this wet, princess?” she pouted, asking you.

you nodded quickly, your hands caressing her cheeks as she lined the tip of her cock with your hole. she turned her head slightly to kiss the palm of your hand.

as she slowly entered you, you let out a series of whines, trying to adjust to being stretched out.

“yeah, you can take it, baby. you can take it.” she said, pushing it further into you until the gap between your cunt and her waist was basically non-existent.

your eyes squeezed shut as you wriggled a little, allowing yourself a couple of seconds to get used to the size. you opened your eyes slowly to see billie’s empathetic ones, she was so sweet even in times like this.

even after all the crimes she’d committed, you had no doubt that she loved you more than the life she led.

“ready, baby?” she asked you as you met her eyes. you nodded in response because if you tried to talk, it would only come out as moans.

she thrusted into you, hard. pulling out almost all the way then bottoming out completely. you cried out in pain at first, but then it became pleasure just as quickly.

“fucking…” she mumbled, “good girl. fucking good girl, taking it so good for me.” she said through thrusts.

your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your mouth hung open. her hand found its way up your shirt, squeezing one of your tits through your bra. your back arched into her hand.

“oh my god, you’re so pretty. you’re so fucking sexy.” she said, studying your face of pleasure.

“fuck, bils!” you screamed out, your nails digging into her cheeks. she didn’t care about the pain, she just loved making you feel good.

she started to pick up her pace, her hand joining the fun as she used her fingers to draw circles on your clit. you squealed as your body jolted, your tits bouncing with every thrust.

“fuck.. fuck… fuck…” the curses stumbled out of your mouth with each thrust. that rush of pleasure went straight through your body again.

“gonna cum, princess?” billie asked, you started to tighten around her cock, making it harder to continue her movements. you could only whimper out a soft ‘mmhm’, but that was good enough for billie.

“okay baby, why don’t you cum for me like the good girl you are, yeah? c’mon, you can do it. cum like a good girl.” she coaxed your second orgasm out of you.

the pleasure was building up from everything she was doing. the hand on your clit, her cock fucking into you and making you see stars. your body tensed up,

and then you released.

“billie!” you cried out, your body relaxing as you came on her cock, your arousal forming a ring at its base.

she kept thrusting into you, helping you ride out the crashing wave of an orgasm you just had. and then she pulled away, plopping down on the bed next to you.

“hey baby?” she spoke to you.

“hm?”

“i’ll only ever fuck you like this now.” she said.

“what do you mean?”

“i’ll only ever fuck you like we’re gods.”

—

author’s journal

pooookie nation!!!!! it’s been a while since i came out with something for billie and i had this sudden burst of inspiration to write this.

this one in particular is for @dandelions4us <33 i told u i’d come thru with this babes!!

going insane for crime billie now WOOF WOOF BARK BSRK

& also i hope u all enjoyed this you filthy animals

kisses xx

[mwahbabe]

being chloes passenger princess

pairing: chloe price x fem reader

mdni,fluff,nsfw,perv!chloe,v fingering(r! receiving), thigh riding, semi public sex mentioned.

a/n: oh lawd i need her.

❥ chloe loves her truck and always wants to pick you up and drive around with you. you accompany her whenever she runs errands or just drives around blasting music.

❥ chloe’s your personal uber driver and you both love it. makes her feel wanted and it also makes you feel special.

❥ calls you up asking if you wanna go for a ride, you’re immediately putting your shoes on.

❥ the truck feels like you and chloe’s safe space. the one thing that’s truly yours and hers and your escape from your shitty town.

❥ she lets you graffiti her truck however you want.

❥ random stuff of yours as well as hers is scattered all over her truck, if you ever lose something it’s most likely somewhere in there.

❥ you’ve taken over her truck with how much of your stuff is in there, the passenger side glove compartment has your snacks, makeup, jewlery, skincare, or whatever else is all stuffed in there.

❥ you helped her not get speeding tickets or parking tickets by forcing her to park properly since we all know this girls parking is atrocious

❥ picks you up from school/work no matter how late you finish.

“wanna grab something to eat?”

“fuck yes.”

❥ always buys you a sweet treat.

❥ loves it when you lean on her while she’s driving

❥ parked car conversations with her hit different. especially at night.

❥ even if she complains and tells you “my ride my tunes.” she allows you to play your music sometimes, bonus points if you share the same music tastes as her, but will try to like your music taste if it’s different than hers. that’s how much she loves you.

nsfw

❥ always has a hand on your thigh as she drives, her hand slowly moving up and casually tracing patterns on your skin.

❥ car sex is a must with her. she can’t keep her hands off you.

❥ her pulling over on an empty road and smoking a cigarette while you’re riding her thigh with her music mixing with your whimpers and moans.

❥ or pulling into an empty parking lot and finger fucking you until the windows are fogged up from your combined heavy breathing.

❥ or if she’s feeling real bold will pull your panties to the side at a red light and play with you with her other hand on the steering wheel.

❥ “chloe stop.. someone’s walking there..”

“you’re too paranoid babe.”

❥ honestly she doesn’t give a shit who sees. she has a bit of an public sex kink but still tones it down if it’s a really public place. she ain’t tryna get arrested.

❥ your panties got left in her truck and chloe being the LOSER PERV that she is shoved them in her pocket and would sometimes sniff them as she was driving, the scent of you still there and giving chloe her fix for now when you were away.

❥ my god what a weird LOSER <3333

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