#mac: spanks her

[telltalebatman]

a very fun thing about frankie and mac's sex life is that frankie explicitly asks mac to be mean and sadistic, and after he does, she tearfully asks "d-do you really think i talk too much?? :(((((" even though SHE was the one who pestered HIM for a week to act like he's had enough for her talking

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Trash Magic

Big Daddy Trailer Park Cop AU One Shot

Summary: it’s 2008 and it’s the pits of recession, not that the suburbs of El Paso would notice, things have been rather shit among the rows and rows of trailers for some time now. With your dad locked up for being a little too ‘entrepreneurial’, it seems your only ally in these tough times is the town‘s scary old softy, Officer Presley, and the more than professional interest he takes in your speeding and footwear. 

Era: modern but with that dumbass tumblr dusty Americana feel to it I hope?

Kudos: so many to @eliseinmemphis who was my plot guru, kept this thing alive and gave so many lines and sentences used herein.

Word count: 15k and I didn’t edit this sorry for misspells, etc

18+ and may be thematically disturbing to some please read cautions, proceed at your own risk!! More specifics below the cut

HAPPY NEW YEAR MY DARLINGS!

Specific warnings: sexual content, drug use, stripping, casual prostitution, age gap, reader isn’t a minor for such activities but only eighteen?? which is not touted as a good thing but it’s in here?? if that’s a hard no then be warned. graphic descriptions of kinda gross blowjobs and very gross blowjobs, spanking, officer Presley does take too many pills for his pain ok? driving under the influence, minors drinking, trailer trash lifestyle in general, such as I personally have had experience with, it’s rough out there folks but there’s always the good ones trying their best. Sorry I really threw Joe E under the bus. I’m not really sorry but I’m sorry you have to read about him in here. Please let me know what warnings I missed if I did. Again, could be thematically disturbing due to age, solicitation, law officers, drug use, humans not being tidy little robots.

When you were three years old you recall the smell of plastic heating in the sun, the hot smell of fresh cut grass and the cold splatter of hose water on your skin. A little paradise it seemed, that tiny kitty pool and your mama waving the hose over you with one hand, her cigarette dangling between the fingers of her other, bright warm sun and yellowing grass stretched out in large swathes between the little white shacks stacked row upon tidy row. Always the same and ready to guide you home after each little wander into the thicket behind the clearing.

That was life in the Shady Oaks trailer park. There really was only one mature oak tree and it was a live oak and the sunshine beamed right through its little leaves all seasons of the year.

By five you had a sizable jar of grasshoppers collected and had become too scared of their hoards and awful beady eyes to ever release them, fearful they would swarm you the minute you undid the lid of the mason jar and gave them freedom. You had let one out and watched it hop across the torn Hexagons of the linoleum floor before it jumped in an acrobatic feat and landed in the mac & cheese your mom was making. You never know what she did with those jars, but you were half relieved, half heartbroken at the fact they were no longer your responsibility.

By eight you knew you lived in a trailer park and spending your time collecting ants and moths for the new set of grasshoppers to eat was a peculiar and uncool pastime. As were muddy knees and torn t-shirts on a girl approaching her teenage years. But mama hadn’t been able to take the heat and the rows upon rows of mildewing trailers anymore and daddy was too busy with his “entrepreneurship” to dress you right.

By twelve you had learned that some nights daddy came home, and some nights he didn’t and you couldn’t be sure which you preferred. His drunken state was unpredictable and confusing even though he was not abusive, but his absence left you counting quarters and wondering how long your Fig Newtons would last if he stayed gone longer than a week again.

By fifteen the Dollar Store and its fluorescent bulbs leached the vitality out of you with each long day shift, school was an afterthought, and your days smelled of plastic bags and detergent. You brought that smell home to your musty trailer, seeped into the sweaty fabric of your tank top. The only thing that stayed consistent whether your daddy was home or not was the religious watching of the NASCAR races. Reruns and live, it didn’t matter, where many girls escaped into Disney or Reality TV, you did your dreaming while sitting in the ratty drivers seat of daddy’s Ford, making the engine thrum.

By seventeen, your daddy was gone for months at a time. Sometimes he’d leave the Ford and take off on the road with Benny and Gregg in Benny’s motorhome from a few rows down. Greg had the pale blue trailer with the blinds that were always smashed in the one window. He always left his damn lights on, even when he was gone and they’d glow yellow and demented between the brittle plastic. Some nights when you walked back home from town, maybe a little more plastered than you’d like to admit, you’d keep Gregg’s trailer and his silly window as a landmark to turn left in the maze of trailers.

One night the bulb burnt out. One by one the rest of them did too. The fellas, they’d all been gone so long. Next week the electricity got turned off to yours. The bill hadn’t been paid. Dollar Store wages kept peanut butter and miracle bread in your cabinets and bought you cheap tequila from Terry who lived five trailers down and didn’t care about ID’s so long as there was cash on the counter. What the wages didn’t pay for was electricity or gas money or a new car that could actually accelerate fast enough to give you that thrill you craved.

Despite your lousy education and demotivated upbringing, you had some spark of diligence and ambition residing inside you, it was stoked to a decent blaze by the awful, humid and stale air of the trailer without its swamp coolers humming at night. Not even the fridge stayed cool longer than forty eight hours and you ended up at the seven eleven eating roller dogs.

You weren’t looking for job opportunities while licking corn dog grease off your thumbs but opportunity came to you anyway. As you nibbled at the soggy fried dog and licked at the rancid oil while leaning against the auto supply shelf, you’d have to be some sorta dumb to not know that Carl was hanging around the same aisle for something besides windshield washer fluid.

Carl was a native to the outskirts of El Paso just like you, and he was a married man, married to Clarissa in fact. Clarissa who’s plastic miniature flamingo’s gracing each edge of her weedy gravel drive had a younger you thinking she was the height of trailer park sophistication. That was before Officer Presley, who lived in a spacious double wide down by Gregg’s trailer and its burnt out bulbs, got himself a Tiger figurine made outta real concrete and painted pretty as anything, its blazing feline eyes not missing a speck of paint, unlike the flamingo’s slashed ones. Officer Presley only had the one and it was assumed he was saving up for another, and he placed it by the little porch he built off his trailer door, the proximity to the structure giving it a noble sorta air that sitting statues out by the street didn’t manage.

“If you keep watchin’ me like that I’ll have to start chargin’.” you told Carl and his leering face, and took another bite, munching with the carefree manners of someone actually hungry.

“Can’t do that here.” he wheezed a laugh, then thumbed over his shoulder at the bright lights of the trucker club blazing in the dark sky through the dirty glass doors of the gas station. “But over there it’s legal.”

“You so horny you’d pay to watch a girl eat a corndog?” you were dubious, wondering just how little Miss Clarissa put out if he’d waste money on this, it wasn’t like she was busy repainting her Flamingo’s peeling eyes or nothin’.

“I’d pay for a drink for ya.” Carl offered, fidgety hands wedged in his fraying front pockets. “And you can eat another dog. You like hot dogs? They’ve got ‘em over there.”

“Nah, I need cash.” you declined, aware that you could barter for drinks and end up evicted or else make sacrifices regarding the booze and keep your tin roof over your head.

“Cash?” he repeated like a dumb parrot.

“Yeah, stupid.” you flailed your hands a little in annoyance, fully certain everyone in this run down rural suburb knew you were as broke as you are alcoholic at seventeen.

“Ok, then I’ll pay for your hot dog,” he negotiated with an oil stained finger scratching at the sore on the corner of his mouth, “And you can eat it so long as you do it how I tell ya.”

You sighed and ran your chipping nails along the plastic jugs of car oil. “So long as ya let me eat it.” you stipulate, “And you gotta pay for the show.”

“I ain’t made of money, girl!” Carl protested, “I’m buyin’ dinner, you should be thankin’ me.”

“You were plannin’ on buyin’ me a drink.” you pointed out, “Where’s that money gone?”

“Jeeze ok, ok,” Carl sighed, “I’ll pay you same as a wild Turkey would cost.”

“And a dog?”

“Yeah.”

“With chili on it?”

“Oh c’mon now-“

“-It’ll make for good slurpin.” you pointed out sagaciously

Carl groaned in annoyance and appreciation for the mental image. “Ok, a chili dog and the cost of a shot. No funny shit with the tab and you eat it how I say.”

“Does the club have air conditioning?” You asked your last stipulation.

“Course it does, it would be hot as fuck without.”

Your trailer was hot as fuck and anytime spent loitering elsewhere was greatly desired. “Ok then.” you agreed with a shrug.

By the time you’d crossed the parking lot, with Carl’s guiding hand on your lower back, you were irritable from the heat and exhaust fumes. Inside was cool and almost as dark as the parking lot except for the wild, multi-colored lights swirling around the place, highlighting the girls humping the stage floor in the middle of the establishment. One more underage addition wasn’t remotely as remarkable as the fella in the corner trying to take a bite outta a lap dancer’s boob. He got smacked on the cheek for it and nothin’ more, got his full dance anyway and as you watched her after while sitting up on the bar stool, you noticed her negotiate something similar to what you’d just done. She stayed in his lap after her dance was done and after some gesticulating and her unimpressed sighs, some agreement was reached and you watched them get up and walk to the back of the club, through the backdoor that you knew led to nothing more than miles and miles of desert.

Five minutes later a similar transaction occurred between a trucker and a pole girl. They went out back, too. Ten minutes later the first couple came back in. She went to the stage and he went out the front door Carl had brought you in by.

By that point you were slowly inserting a hot dog onto your pink tongue and swallowing a bite every three minutes or more - at least, that’s what it felt like. Carl’s directions were so slow and infuriatingly erratic that you found yourself grateful for the fact you’d already eaten a bit at the gas station, otherwise this would’ve been the cruelest tease to your belly that hadn’t had lunch and only Raisin Bran for breakfast. You chose to ignore the way his hand moved in the shadow of the bar, wiping at his jeans too many times to be passed off as sweaty palms.

A nearly fully dressed girl in cut offs eating a chili dog was hardly the most sensational thing to be watched in this seedy joint, but it was the most peculiar and no sooner had you finished the dog after a laborious thirty minutes, collected the extra drink cash and prepared to go home after declining Carl’s offer of a ride before you found yourself propositioned for the same ordeal. This big fella actually offered a drink with it and much to Carl’s betrayed horror you agreed. Carl ended up leaving, going home to Clarissa, feeling too cuckolded to continue watching someone else watch you eat meat in a casing.

In between sipping Hard Mike’s lemonade you chatted with the fella and spilled pinto beans on your bare legs from the excess. Even the bartender had stopped being annoyed, he even got a bit invested in your gig, retracting the offered napkins for the spill when another guy, a farm hand from the pecan grove down the interstate, asked to lick it off.

You charged seventeen bucks for that spit bath and felt funny as the saliva dried in the chilled bar room air. The bartender asked you if you lived in El Paso. Hesitating to give yourself away or open yourself up to a driveby, you merely agreed that you lived nearby, he didn’t need to know you lived in the Spark City suburb and walked to this tuck station grill to save fuel.

Marty, he said his name was, and Marty was pleased you lived close. In that case he asked if you’d wanna work there. You knew at the time he wasn’t offering you to bartend, your age prohibitive even in so lax an establishment. Your eyes flicked over to the long gal with her sallow skin and stringy red hair loling around the stripper pole in the glow of a green spotlight. It had to be 3:00 am by then.

“Does everybody do extra?” You asked him, plainly referencing the deals that took folks out back into the sagebrush and the backside of the club.

“You do as much as you wanna get paid for.” he admitted. “Plenty just strip.”

Just, he had said. Just strip.

Just stripping was a gross understatement for the rigorous and demoralizing ordeal of flinging your practically naked body around on stage for gaping older men to ogle each night. But it took up hours of your time not paid by the dollar store wages, and you could snooze from five am to eight when your shift began again in respectable retail. You earned a decent amount, even after having to pay Marty and the doormen a portion and even turning down a lap dance or two. The chili dog schtick kept its novelty for three nights and then you were driven to grinding against the pold like all the others, wondering if they’d all hoped to not end this way, same as you.

After a few weeks of this your piggy bank was less empty than it had been in months, hidden under the sink of your trailer behind the Comet and pulled out only to stuff in bills or else retrieve bread money, one Sunday you counted enough to pay your lease for the trailer slip. What was left would make a tiny little down payment for the electricity bill.

Or gas money for at least fifty miles or more in your gas guzzler. You weighed the bills in your hands and mournfully inspected your bruised knees. It was your off day, you contemplated going to the club in the evening as it didn’t respect the Lord’s day like the dollar store, but until then you had hours of a perfectly cloudless day to burn. Suddenly your trailer felt unbearable in its stuffy crampedness.

You tore outta your door and cranked up your daddy’s old Ford and with relief found it started with only a few tries. You tore down the road too, seeking the interstate after using that cash to top her tank off. For the first time in ages a full smile had begun to split your face. You went east, passing the last remnant of civilization that you called home and comprised El Paso’s dusty satellite cling ons. Then it was open range, nothing just mesas and tumbleweed, no one else could brag of such flat country or so wide a sky.

You floored it, the speed limit a decent 80 on its own, you went up to 120, fast as you dared push the transmission without fear of being stranded in the desert. Billboards warned of “last chance for gas, Van Horn 200 miles” followed by a possibly related: “God is coming, have you repented?”

All flew by in a unheeded blur as you cranked up the stereo and let the wind whip your hair. You covered a patrol car in a cloud of dust and saw his lights flash at you in the rearview. No chase commenced. When you leisurely drove back you noticed it was highway patrol, the sun was setting and he flashed his brights at you. You flicked them back.

“Hey officer Presley.” you murmured amused at him turning a blind eye to the speeding. Back when you had more money and made a regular habit of this amateur racing, you noticed the same benevolent light flicker and never a siren broke the still of the desert. “You ole softy.” you giggled at the thought of the middle aged officer being generous for you and only you, and wondered if he’d heard about what had become of you yet. Seems like most of the trailer park had. Favorite topic these days, right up there with when or if your daddy was ever gonna come home. Had the wives hating you during the day for the suspicion of their men wanking over you at night.

“Maybe if you could spare a single food stamp or somethin’ to help a gal in need I’d not be strippin’!” You had hollered at Ms Clarissa for all to hear and you stood by it. Buncha lousy, miserable hypocrites who did far worse behind their canvas doors.

You do go to the club that night.

You stripped down to your panties and bra and made enough to buy ice and a trip to the dentist. You packed the ice in the dead refrigerator and pampered yourself with some milk and a carton of ice cream for the filled tooth.

Next day you filled up your gas tank again and blazed a path through town, headed to the wide open and dreaming of busting your way into the male ranks of nascar drivers. You were deep into a daydream and committing a little self pity about how you hadn't been able to afford cable and were missing all the races when a siren’s blare broke your fantasy and the flicker of red lights against a pale blue sky filled your rearview. Begrudgingly you pulled to the shoulder as you cranked down your window, fiddling with the radio knobs till you could actually hear your crime when your peruser sauntered up.

“Well, well officer Presley, finally got persnickety about laws, have ya?” you observed to yourself with a grin as you watched the handsome man swagger towards you along the white line in your side mirror, tugging at his pants as he neared, trying to shimmy the article of clothing a little higher but is impeded by his belt, stopped by his sizable belly, his holster and buckle sitting under the bulge of it.

Your mouth watered. It had been close to a year since you’d seen him up close, not since last time he pulled you over, though you always took note when he was lounging outside his trailer in a lawn chair with his dog or stripped down and working under his hood. He was always built, intimidating to all the stupid rascals he kept in line along the border, but now he had become outright fat and his khaki shirt pulled apart between each button. Yet when he came up to your window, that little boy's grin was still gracing one of the most exquisite faces known to man, and his voice was tender and playful when he greeted you, just as you once recalled. You could see his sweaty hair, matted on his chest and belly between the gaps, his underarms have massive pit stains, doubly apparent thanks to the light color of his police uniform.

Your smile had something of the she-wolf in it as you greeted him, sniffing the air in hopes of catching a whiff as he leaned on your window frame, nearly crowding you from outside. “Hey Miss Lead Foot Louie,” he greeted, “you know why ya been pulled over?”

“Haven't got a clue, officer.” You stated the truth and enjoyed the way his title rolled off your tongue in a bantering way. It was easy.

Officer, officer. Somebody important and authoritative. No sir, yes sir, Officer.

His left eyebrow quirked and you wondered what he looked like at twenty five, how devastating that expression would have been before his wound and his meds and the water retention. Whatever power it may have once held, it holds nothing to that slightly bemused, slightly cynical world weariness that shows in his every expression now, that had a twitch of an eyebrow making you feel a fool in the most delicious way. “You’re goin’ seventy in a forty five, Miss.” his tone was patient even as his face suggested he’d like to tan your hide for being so reckless. “Reckless endangerment of others, and yourself,” he quoted sternly, “it ain’t no small matter and I don’t countenance it on my highway.”

Gosh, you just loved it when he laid claim to government property like highways and interstates. It helped you smile meekly at him and nod.

“Sorry officer, I got lax.” You purred, batting your eyes and you could see the heavy flap of their coal coated weight in your periphery. “I’ve seen you lettin’ me fly by on the interstate. I guess I thought…”

He leaned further into her car window, shirt gaping helpfully at his neck and allowing you a glimpse of sweaty hair, little droplets shining like rhinestone studs in the coarse curls. You leaned towards him, nipples hardening beneath your t-shirt bra as your mind started to the taste of salt. “You’re in town, miss.” he pointed out with grave disappointment for your lack of behavioral modulation, “S’one thing on the open plain, it’s another when you’re endangerin’ your fellow citizens, flyin’ through intersections, speedin’ up and threadin’ traffic when you’ve got a visible yield sign. Right there! Ain’t responsible. And I won’t countenance it.”

“Sorry officer.” you pleaded, lingering on his rank with all the sultry appreciation of a girl who lacks authority figures in her life. It made his palm itch.

He sighed and gave you a small smile, puffy, marshmallow lips set under a dark five o’clock shadow and it wasn’t even noon. “Now, how many times do I gotta pull ya over ‘fore ya start listenin’ to me?“ he asked with patient expectancy and you swallowed hard, actually feeling a small bit of guilt.

“Well,” you drew it out, biting your lip before tossing your head and beaming at him, “maybe just one last time. Like always.”

He tsked at you in reprimand but his eyes lit up with enjoyment, and that was worth whatever fine he might slap you with. It really wasn’t, not with how broke you were but gosh, you loved breaking the ice on him, reeling him in for another verbal tussle. One day you hoped those expressive hands would accidently smack you mid-wave when he was explaining something or other. You lived in hope of that day.

You watched as he straightened briefly and reviewed your vehicle, thumbing at the peeling paint on the hood near his thumb and swished at the sand on your tags. You held your breath, hoping the dust would disguise their expiration. Officer Presley just grunted and surveyed your lemoning old truck with the face of a man who appreciates nice things and doesn't see any nice things in sight. The face of a man whose patrol car was a Ford Mustang.

“You like speed.” he observed, still glancing at your tires with lip curling disdain. You wanted him to look at you like that but his face always softened when he turned back to you. It did this time as well.

“Yeah.” you breathed.

“You got a shit truck for speed, terrible drag, shit tread on your tires, bet it’s a gas guzzler, too.”

“Well yeah, officer,” you rolled your eyes at his survey, “but it’s not like I can afford much else right now so -I do this for fun. Fun’s not illegal in America yet, is it?”

He looked at you gravely then and his eyes turned sad. “Yeah I heard about the strippin’. You watch yourself now, be careful and make sure you don’t engage in no extra-curric-u-lars.” he advised sternly, peering over his tinted sunglasses at you while saying the big word, over pronouncing it with authoritative gravitas, “I’ve told Marty that means no bar tendin’ when you’re underage. And I’m tellin’ you now, that goes for solictin’, too. You understand me? Nice lil girl like you could get in a heap of trouble real fast. And I won’t countenance it.”

The rest of you perked up at the heavy handed advice, feeling smothered and also cherished that someone would give a shit, even if they were just defending laws n’ government regulations. Thinking of them as Officer Presley’s laws, as his property you were twerking on somehow ennobled your calling, made you feel like giving it a try to be good and not disappoint him. You felt grateful he hadn't chewed you out for the stripping like half the neighborhood, you’d expected some disgust.

When he finally looked at you with disdain, and you were determined that he would, it would be for something less unchangeable, a little less broke, a little more sexy.

“Yes sir, I got ya.” you acknowledged with a nervous laugh to hide your discomfort with the way he kept staring at you, reading you, it felt.

He kept at it for a few moments, chomping on that gum stick in his mouth, dexterous pink tongue lolling the stuff from one row of molars to the others and back. Most fascinating ping-pong match you’d ever seen and while he did his soul-reading, you watched his mouth.

As his jaw worked overtime, he narrowed his eyes at you, so blue they looked violet behind the tint of his lenses. “A’ight.” he decided at last and suddenly your window was bereft of his congenial bulk, you heard the rap of his knuckles on your truck roof.

“You stay outta trouble now, Missy.” he let you off with only a warning, two sharp knocks on the metal and then, “I’ll be seein’ ya.”

You watched the side mirror with investment as he meandered away, futilly hiking up his holster again as he went before he entered his squad car. He flashed his lights at you as you stayed gawking, you fumbled with the ignition and peeled out off the shoulder, moderating your acceleration upon afterthought. You’d promised to be good.

But nights at the Trucker Bar didn’t pay to be good. You had a laundry list of things you wanted and a hefty list of needs alongside it. You tried picking up a shift at the Texaco but Ashley there near tore your hair out against the beer coolers for encroaching on her shift. Everyone needed work and Spark City had never been much of a City, too little infrastructure to prosper its community in good times, much less in the pits of a recession. The Best Buy in El Paso was hiring, you read in a mail advertisement. Their wages cost as much gas it took to drive there and back.

So you got pretty good at something else, something Officer Presley wouldn’t be impressed by, or maybe he would in a moment of weakness but lord, much as you worried and panicked some times about him dropping in on the Trucker stop, meeting eyes and him just knowing you’d been doing extracurriculars, he never showed. Must not have been his scene. Not that you were sure what his scene was, you only ever saw him in his patrol car or else cleaning his guns on his trailer porch next to his Tiger figurine.

You assumed he liked blow jobs as much as the next man. But he never showed and so you got more and more lax, went out back of the bar to the Sagebrush desert and blew heavy tippers against the concrete wall, ant bites and stickers plaguing your knees. So far you hadn’t even needed to walk on over past the broken wall to the dingy motel in back and do the horizontal tango.

Moderate extracurriculars and the dancing was enough to tip your little piggy bank into having a little something to shake at the end of the day. You got yourself a haul of cereal and hot pockets that night, even splurged on milk that went rancid by the next day without refrigeration. You spent your late mornings debating how much money you had left for rent and how much you had for electricity and the viability of buying a generator instead of paying the bill. You also wanted a Blackberry phone real bad, your old flip phone a relic and on its last wheezes -maybe that’s why your dad’s calls never came through.

You were chewing off the price tag of your dollar flip flops, walking barefoot out of your daytime workplace -Dollar General- at the end of your shift when you realized there was a patrol car pulled up beside your Ford. First you cursed, then you grinned as you saw the familiar figure of Officer Presley wiping at your windshield with a bandana. Then you cursed again as you realized he was checking your expired tags.

You jogged over the burning asphalt, still tied flip flops in hand, hoping you didn’t look like shit from having taken off the Dollar Store vest without smoothing your hair afterwards. You hadn’t been good, he could be here for anything, soliciting, or for the speeding you know he caught on his radar or else the tags.

“Hey officer!” you chirped, as carefree and smiley as you could manage -and you’d gotten to be a tidy little liar at the club, insisting you couldn’t wait to have greasy, unwashed truckers in your mouth.

He turned his head slowly, hand still heavy on the windshield and observed you through those glasses again. “Don’t you ‘hey officer’ me.” he retorted, riled despite himself at the way you always said his rank like he had you locked up with frilly pink handcuffs to his waterbed. He shook his head and focused on the variety of delinquencies he had to reprimand you for. “These tags are out of date.”

“Aww,” you feigned consternation pretty decently as you really hadn’t bothered to prioritize the tags with every other dire cost pummeling you right now, “I’m sorry Elvis.” you tried a little familiarity as you drew closer, watching enthralled as a stale desert window tufted the front of his black locks of his sweaty forehead, “Things’ve been a lil tight for a while now, what with daddy leavin’. Slipped my mind.”

He pulled his hand off the windshield and his hands tried to rest on his hips but they slipped and ended up in an odd, off-kilter sorta sling on his pockets and belly, “They’re three years overdue.” his tone sounded unimpressed, you shivered despite the heat.

“Oh.” you chewed your lip and gazed at him hopefully.

“I oughta tan your hide, lettin’ you turn feral with all my concessions.” he said aloud while stippling his fingers on your rusting truck hood. His eyes dropped to the newly purchased, junk flip flops you still clutched. “Why’re you bare foot?”

“My last pair broke.” you explained, end of your shift the thong had snapped and here you were with the replacements.

“Well put ‘em on, the road’s nasty.” he grunted in aggravation, eyes dropping to your feet and widening in disgust at the welts and blisters you’d accumulated from your cheap stripper heels. “Holy shit, that’s gnarly right there.”

You felt a bit offended by that, wanting to object it was the toll of the job, sorta like fat guts came from lounging in patrol cars for a living. Figuring you were in deep deep enough shit as is without outright insulting him, you bit your tongue and chewed on the plastic connector again, trying to free your sandals.

“Oh for God’s sake, stop that.” he growled after a minute and to your bewilderment he stepped in your space and grabbed the foam footwear out of your mouth, “Gonna chip a tooth goin’ on that way, then your tips’ll go down, ya thought of that? No? No you don’t think ahead about nothin’.”

He was working himself up into a frustrated frenzy, tugging at the plastic tag, mumbling all the while about your behavior until it snapped at last and separated the flip flops. He stared dumbly at his success for a minute while you tittered. Bad move on your part, his eyes darkened and he genuinely scowled at you, something more effective than it should have been with his outdated sideburns carving lines in his cheeks.

“Turn around.” he demanded and you snapped your mouth shut, confused by his attitude and furtively eyeing your flip flops still dwarfed in his gloved hands. Who the hell wore gloves in this decade? In this century? In an El Paso suburb that was only a degree or two cooler than the surface of the sun.

You turned around.

“Hands on the hood.” he told you.

You placed them on the burning metal and wished you had gloves, angling your body away from the hot body of the truck, wincing at the heat, on tippy toes to save your feet from the asphalt. Was he gonna cuff you? He hadn’t even read you your rights and could a person even be arrested for tags? You really didn’t know and you never thought he would-

Suddenly a loud snap resounded in the empty parking lot and a white hot sting against your bottom distracted you from the pain of the hot car. You yelped in shock, hand flying to nurse the denim clad ass cheek that was burning from his smack. You glared over your shoulder at Officer Presley, ready to give him what for about him taking parental liberties until you saw his face folded into childish consternation, poofy bottom lip jutted out in remorse as he viewed the snapped flip flop in his hands.

He’d broken a shoe on you. Appreciation flared back, and you wanted to squeeze his cheeks and tell him it was ok, he could ruin the other, too.

“Aww shit, now I-I-I didn’t mean for that-“ he bemoaned, turning the ruined foam pad around and around in his hands as if there was a way to fix it when the other half was on the ground.

“It’s ok.” You heard yourself comfort the fucker who’d just spanked you in broad daylight.

“But you just finished your shift.” he muttered, and his consideration for your inconvenience touched you, “Here I-I-I’ll go buy ya another pair. Uh, yeah, c’mon.”

You skipped alongside him, trying to get him to look over at you but his face was flushed and his eyes trained on his task, picking out a hot pink pair instead of the polka dots you had chosen. “Does nothin’ for your lil sooties and brings the attention away from the polish ya got painted and instead directs the eye to the crustaceans and shit ya got goin’ on.” he referenced your calluses with a grimace and reached into his back pocket to pull out his worn wallet.

You stared at the hefty meat of his ass the entire time and almost missed it when he pulled out five dollars and put them on the register. You watched his ass and its khaki clad splendor as he returned the wallet without change and wiggled it into the tight back pocket.

At the double sliding glass doors of the front he snapped the tag there and then and squatted down with a little grunt, his knees popping audibly as he gallantly laid out your cheap slippers. You stepped into them, taking the liberty of putting a balancing hand on his sweaty shoulder.

His hand ran up your wrist and held you there a minute longer than it needed for stability. He squeezed twice and let go. You watched him heft himself up to his feet with admiration and a little pity for the stiff way he moved when he’d been stuck in one position for too long. Seemed to you so long as he was kept moving he did alright, nice and fluid and you’d seen him chase and tackle a man on foot awhile back, he’d been runnin’ like the wind then. He had it in him, just lounging in the patrol car hardly helped things.

You got the sudden and stupid urge to ask if he wanted to go swimming in the Motel 6’s pool, it would be good for his joints and your sore back and he’d be wet and maybe have his shirt off and you could-

“I got somethin’ to tell ya, it’s w-w-why I-I stopped when I saw your truck and uh, sweetie, let’s stay h-here in the cool.” he gently tugged your arm back with the pads of his pretty fingers hooked on your deltoid, pulling you back over the threshold and into the dryer sheet scented air of the Dollar General.

“What is it?” you asked him as he seemed nervous, a foreign look on him. You started to feel a little panic at the thought he might be leaving, going back to wherever he came from, done with this Podunk town and its big crime and little criminals.

“There ain’t no easy way to say this a-a-and I wanted you to hear it from me.” he chose his words carefully, eyes trained on the white and speckled tile below your feet until after a big breath he lifted his stunning eyes and gazed at you gently and in the most gallant way you’d ever been looked at before, murmuring in clear, compassionate tones, “They caught your daddy the other night -drug runnin’. Ain’t no petty marijuana charge or somethin’, it’s the big stuff. He’s gonna be put away, for a long while, in-car-cer-ated.” he specified with distinct pronunciation, “For a long while, Miss. I’m sorry to be the one t-t-to t-tell but I wanted you to know it’s true, I-I-l booked him in myself.”

“Well,” you swallowed hard, a little ashamed you’d been more alarmed at the prospect of officer Presley leaving than suspecting anything wrong with your walking disappointment of a father, “well damn.” you muttered.

“You don’t seem much surprised.” he pointed out, pulling his tinted shades down his nose to get a clear review of you, he had a red line on his nose from their weight.

“I barely know him anymore,” you admitted, “and I doubted he was gone spreading charity or something.”

“Yeah.”

“But damn -he was supposed to come back.” you felt a little angry about that part. A little childish for believing it too.

“Maybe he meant to,” he soothed, although your father’s entrenched position on the river suggested a more permanent stay, “and was doing all that sellin’ to give you somethin’ better but he was breakin’ the law and endangerin-“

“-Endangering others, I know.” you snapped at him, not because he was anything but nice, you snapped at him because he was very kind and he had a silver, shiny, sanctimonious badge on the large swell of his left peck.

The longer you stared at the badge the more you wanted to sink your dollar store acrylics into the meat of that man and try tearing -they’d probably break and it made your eyes swim with tears of frustration and you stomped out of the double glass doors into the heat of the parking lot. The sun would be going down soon and that’s when your best customers would pour into the club. You snapped your way across the asphalt on the flip flops he got you, ignoring his calls behind you as you wrenched open the squeaking truck door and hopped up into the cab.

“Really it’s fine!” you yelled at him as he came up to the window again, the concern and reproval written on his face way more heavy than you could take right then, “It’s not like I was expecting him back anytime soon anyway and -and you’ve got a job to do, ok? I get it. I get it, ok? Now I gotta go, officer.” You cranked up your engine and diesel fumes swirled around him. He batted the air in front of his face like a dainty lady would a swarm of flies and leaned heavier still on your rolled down window.

“I just wanted to let ya know.” he reaffirmed his intention, his gesticulations bringing your eyes to the gold watch around his wrist that jangled against the car metal, “Tell ya not to uh, don’t do nothin’ rash, alright? Just ‘cause he’s gone. You’re a big girl, you’ll make it. You ‘member what I said last time ‘bout extracurriculars?”

“I’d like to do you some extracurriculars.” you seethed with an angry smile and he looked taken aback, actually stepping away from the truck and his belly heaved with his offended breaths. One hand balled in a fist at his side and the other twitched, fiat palm swaying beside his thigh like he was gonna smack again. Extracurriculars -you’d like to take his no doubt chubby little cock right down to the sweaty thatched base and chew, just to earn a real spanking.

Maybe this lewd intent was written on your face but he slowly backed away from your truck like you’d gone looney, pointing his finger at you as he went, “You be good, I mean it. And that’s goes for respectin’ officers of the law.”

He was about to get into his side, looking over his car top in admonishment and you quickly made sure your truck was still in park before turning round in the seat and hanging yourself out the window, cleavage pressed against the edge to your best advantage and blew him a kiss. “I’m always a good girl, officer!” you swore adamantly and it stopped him dead in his tracks, stopped in a half crouch to his seat, that eyebrow disbelieving, “Officer Presley commissioned me to be good and I ain’t anything but!” you swore.

Took him five whole seconds to recall he was supposed to have his ass seated by then and he lowered himself the rest of the way into his car. His belly brushed the steering wheel and his legs spread themselves even in the driver's seat, it made your crushed breasts tingle. “Be-have.” he pointed that finger again and your thighs clamped shut on your seats, overwhelmed with unbidden thoughts of the long and slender digit probing inside you. How’d his fingers stay so slender when the rest of him bulked up?

You saluted as poorly as you could and watched him drive off, aggression plain in his accelerations and the way he took his turns. He shoulda stayed and spanked the other cheek, you thought, as you turned around and slumped in your seat, legs splayed and fighting a desperate urge to slip a hand down your shorts. You hoped to god he’d find some quiet shoulder of the road in the desert this evening and with a car passing every twelve minutes, tug a load out to the thought of wacking your denim booty with his belt. It would be good for his blood pressure.

Hands sticky from your own dismal release, you pulled out of the parking lot ten minutes behind him and, too scarce on time to go home first, drove straight to the club, knowing full well that you could always just strip down to your underwear.

Or less.

What with dad permanently unhelpful now, it was a fact of life that you’d have to do more than get by till he came back. You’d already accepted that awhile ago, this just confirmed it. You figured you’d need to save another stash of money, like the real professional girls did, girls like Kelcie and Shay, a little fund for renting out a motel room at night. The one a quarter mile out back of the truck stop, no harm in it except for a few bramble scratches in the dark and the odd coyote not scared off by the truckers’ loud moans out back at the blow job wall.

But for tonight you hadn’t any such stash and so after a few hours at the poll and chatting up the fellas lounging on barstools, you found the tip jar lacking and made one of those lil deals that were becoming almost as commonplace as getting your butt pinched.

This time, in the moth attracting glow of the outside light, your customer had a New York accent and while at cock level you learned from his fancy, dangling silver keychain that his buddies knew him as Joe E.

Now Joe E had a little brown cock and a small, fused ballsack under a sizable belly like most of these men in here did, and you did some of your best work on him. It was easy to do with him fitting in your mouth so easily, you pulled out every trick you’d learned at this wall, all of which he unfortunately resisted succumbing to more than the usual client. He’d pull himself out of your throat and he would grip his base, prolonging his experience and you supposed he had a right to it, he was paying money for something and he might as well do it how he liked but your jaw ached after a while. Soon your ears ached worse, exhausted and fed up with the self important monologue he kept up between the usual, self promoting stud talk that an unimpressive man in his forties likes to indulge in while paying for sex acts out back of a hole in the wall truckers club.

Joe E tasted like he hadn’t touched a fresh vegetable in years and through the overwhelming desire to puke you recognized with some pleasure that he was tipping you extra for being “like a damn vacuum down there, you pretty little dog.”

You drove home from the club, headlights on dim in the early morning and passed by Officer Presley’s double wide with intent, choosing the route you’d take if you were walking. It was dark inside but as you passed you saw he wasn’t asleep, his car was still gone.

You wondered if his doggie was in there or on patrol with him. You sighed and pulled into your own weedy drive, depressed with something you didn’t know the cause of.

You brushed your teeth, you ate cereal after remembering you hadn’t eaten, and stripped out of your clothes before crashing into bed, falling asleep in seconds despite the musty, unconditioned air inside.

It was the next morning, so near afternoon as to barely warrant it but Elvis Presley liked to take credit for any bit of effort he made and so let the record show it was still morning, when he entered the Waffle House off Moody Blvd and sat himself down in a booth and ordered his usual. It arrived at 11:56 in the morning and so it was breakfast, not lunch by any stretch of the imagination. He’d been up all night, the usual plaguing reasons and a few added to it. You, thoughts of you and tanning your hide and gripping you and you squirming over his lap made his patrols a hellish experience and he was almost glad for the distraction of the fucker without plates pulling out in front of him and making a run for it through the border checkpoint at 8:45 pm.

Now he was distracting himself with food, and if there was anything in his life to rival his appreciation of a slippery and obligin’ pussy, it was five scrambled eggs piled high on a white plate with burnt bacon to the side and waffles stacked on a companion plate. Brenda put them down with a smile and gave him a side hug that made his face brush her apron and shoulda gotten her fired by the food regulations but Elvis liked Brenda for her affectionate ways and the way he didn’t ever have to correct her about his order.

“You look tired.” she worried over him and he found a smile starting to threaten on his face, he stuck his fork in the eggs to distract himself.

“Just a busy night.” he admitted and absentmindedly rubbed at his sore knee.

“Aww you’re a treasure, keepin’ us so safe.” he patted his arm again and he fully smiled this time. “You just tell me if you need anythin’ else. I’ve got more coffee, lemme get ya more coffee, Elvis.”

“Thanks Miss Brenda.” he called to her and she giggled as she fetched the cloudy pot.

The bell over the entrance jangled and from Elvis’ chosen vantage point in a booth that faced the doors, always facing his entry that man, he saw Joe Esposito walk in, smiling like a motherfucker for a Wednesday morning and swaggering like Elvis hadn't seen the little runt do since he passed the bar back in 1980 something.

“Hey Brenda, hey EP!” Joe greeted and Elvis braced himself for a cheerful morning when all his hopes had been for some quiet and a little maple syrup glazed despondency.

“Hey Joe.” Elvis greeted his old friend, “You in town?”

“Yeah, my route’s takin’ me to Las Cruces.” Joe informed him as he helped himself to the booth across from Elvis without invitation. If he ate one of Elvis’ bacon strips, even reached for it, Elvis would be pulling out his Glock.

“How’s business?” Elvis asked as neutrally as possible, knowing that it was a sore subject for Joe who had once bragged about being destined for big things, holding it over everybody else at the high school back in Memphis. Still Elvis couldn’t help but ask, partly because it was small talk and if he could get Joe on the subject he knew the feller wouldn’t stop talking, and Elvis could then eat his eggs with minimal requirements for speech. He also took some inner consolation in the fact that all Joe’s brags had worked out about as poorly as Elvis’ dreams had.

It made for two portly middle aged men in a Waffle House booth discussing gas prices at noon.

Joe ordered just pancakes and Elvis judged the lack of meat from beneath his lavender shades and patiently asked the right questions to keep Joe smacking his breakfast with an open mouth and waxing sentimental about life on the road. It suited Joe, even if it was boringly unimportant, he was king of the road in between stops at Walmart distribution centers and out in the stretches of no man’s land the girls were cheap, far cheaper than any Times Square street walker. Joe hadn’t been to Times Square since he was sixteen but it was something he still liked to brag of and to incorporate in his life story like it was an integral part of his narrative.

“But are they fresher?” Elvis inquired, always intrigued by the subject of pussy but also harboring a deep aversion to the way most men spoke on the subject.

“Nah, not really, but that’s why ya go for the mouth.” Joe catechsied Elvis on the ways of call girls and Elvis felt his eye twitch, personally he enjoyed blow jobs as much as the next guy but to avoid the pussy all together as Joe was suggesting? It took all the joy out of the act for Elvis and he picked at his eggs morosely as he listened. He’d had such a large appetite before Joe sat down and started talking of fishy cunts and girls with throats like drainage pipes.

Joe had been to the truckers lounge, the trucker club, the strip place, whatever it was called -the place Marty ran. Elvis knew it, he tried not to react to the name, to pretend he didn’t gas up at the Texaco next door with the express intent of hoping to catch sight of you some nights. He never did, and he’d never been in. But Joe had gone in and Joe being Joe sat across from Elvis the next morning and bragged to a law officer about paying for a blow job. Which along with ruining Elvis’ appetite was offense enough for Elvis to decide to arrest the fucker, but the eloquent details of the slut who’d given it to him made Elvis see red.

Elvis didn’t really mind folks watching you, some stupid, possessive part of him was glad that all those fuckers drooled over you and couldn’t touch, same as him as he sat year after year in his lawn chair on his porch, watching you pass his trailer with longer and longer legs, prettier and prettier as the dusty days rolled by.

But to touch you? That someone else had touched you? The butter on his waffles suddenly looked wrong.

“-just fifty bucks man. Fifty bucks well spent.” Joe was bragging like he’d cheated the stock market and Elvis heard a roar in his ears that the doctors swore the pills would take care of.

You’d sucked Joe Esposita for fifty dollars right after Elvis had told you to be good and you’d blown him a kiss.

His chest hurt.

Elvis had Joe’s greasy face pressed into the syrupy plate with his hands behind his back and cuffs clanking before either the officer or the suspect even realized his intent. “Prostitution’s illegal, motherfucker, as is paying for such services in the state of Texas.”

You’d told him you’d be good. Fuck! He so badly didn’t wanna think of Joe being your first that he had to countenance speculation about you making a regular habit of this thing which was both worse and better all at once and he took out his frustration at that knowledge by trundling Joe into the back of the squad car with far more force than necessary.

It was a flimsy charge to file, Elvis knew that even before the clerk gave him the usual papers to fill out with a confused look. Wasn’t like Elvis was gonna put down your face or name, give away your crime. Without that connection the charge of paying for sex was flimsy and Joe would be released before dark. But it was nice to hear him sqealin’ and bitchin’ about his driving schedule and a buncha other ordinary begs that made Joe E sound as pathetic as Elvis knew he was.

It fortified Elvis throughout the day, kept him from going to your trailer or interrupting you at work to ask why in God’s name you would degrade yourself like that. It kept him bolstered with red hot rage until he was staked out in desert twilight on the dark side of the Texaco, headlights off and his eyes squinted as he watched patrons and girls go into the club.

This was his fault, for locking your daddy up, driving you to such lengths. He felt sick about it, shoulda known a stubborn, white trash girl like you would just reach for the next alternative this easy. Made him sick. Elvis suddenly felt nice and superior to all these men filing into the neon lit cinderblock structure, he had resisted touching himself to the fantasies that had filled his mind about you last night. Wasn’t pertinent that he had a stiffy right now, that was just the nerves and excitement of a stake out revving him up

He lit up a cigar and let Mellancamp growl over the stereo, engine off and the key turned just a little for the dash lights to stay on. He wasn’t sure when you got off work at the club, he assumed it must be some time around dawn and that suited his shit circadian rhythm just fine. He wasn’t tired as the hours went by, he was downright furious and his heart hurt and he popped a couple oxys sitting there with his busted knee throbbing and his mind a demented echo chamber.

By the time the sky was turning a sickly violet with the first promises of sunrise, Elvis had worked himself up to such a degree as to have his door flung open and one boot rhythmically tapping against the cement in his agitation, legs spread to alleviate the ache his pills had provoked in his groin even as the rest of him felt loose and untethered and decidedly deserving for once.

When you walked out the front of the club into the stale early morning air you laughed to yourself at the silliness of thinking you’d need a coat. Your little denim shorts and cherry print crop top suited just fine even in the early dark. That NASCAR jacket you’d had your eye on, the one Shay showed you on eBay, it would have to wait, the tips were shit tonight. No real hurt with that, wasn’t like it was cold. Just another something you wanted and would have to put off. You hadn’t driven tonight as the walk was cheaper and closer but you’d forgotten your pepper spray back at the truck stop and you hesitated for a moment about going back in, hating the idea of getting sucked into some sorta early morning drama from the drunk leftovers. While you were debating, a flash of white seared your vision and you staggered to a stop in the middle of the mostly deserted parking lot.

Headlights.

Well shit, now you really wished you had that spray. You thought about making a run for it, trying the nearest truck cab and praying the guy in it was less of a creep than whoever stakes out on the deserted side of the building.

“You get over here!” the approaching figure came into view, finally silhouetted by his own lights as he stalked towards you wearing a leather trench coat like some noir villain.

It would be a lie to say you breathed easier when you recognized Officer Presley’s commanding baritone.

“Shit shit shit.” you chanted beneath your breath at how riled he sounded and his right hand started making angry gestures for you to approach as he himself closed the distance with a deceptively fast gait.

“Hey, get your ass over here, I called you.” he yelled far more loudly than necessary with his massive hands already closing around your wrists, you didn’t even think to make a run for it, where exactly in the world was a kinder place to turn to than this angry law officer who always nosed in your business too much? “Get, get over here.” he repeated with a yank and tugged you stumbling over your flip flops to his squad car.

He bent you over the hood, just like you’d dreamed of more than a few times and you felt the heat of the headlight against your thigh as your shoulders got twisted back. “-solicitation,” he was pronouncing and your heart sank at the realization he had caught you after your promise, “prostitution-“ the cold clamp of a handcuff on your wrist had none of the rebel thrill you once imagined, it was terrifying and you whimpered pathetically at the thought that you’d expended his patience, that maybe your flirty banters had been one sided and he really was fed up with you.

“Officer-“ you begged with your cheek smashed to the hood.

Some guy had walked up, actually being a good citizen and concerned about the manhandling. It took one flash of Officer Presley’s badge for the guy to back away with a mere “you at least gonna read her the rights, man?”, throwing concerned looks over his shoulder. Maybe he’d been a tipper, you didn’t recall one face from another unless they were awfully ugly or skinny.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll read you your rights, you got the goddamn right to remain silent-“ Officer Presley was struggling with the other cuff and his weight on your lower back made you wheeze just as he was short of breath. He was awfully worked up, huffily trying to clasp the cuffs and slurring your Miranda rights carelessly for so staunch a believer in laws and precepts.

When he succeeded and stood you upright you craned your neck to look at his sweaty face behind you and his eyes were wild and his hair disheveled like he’d run his hands through it a million times tonight. He looked a bit obsessed with his nose flaring like that, his speech slurring and his usual decorum completely goners.

“Are you drunk?” you balked in alarm as he trundled you into the backseat, face first into leather with your cuffed hands behind you, ass stuck out the door.

“Of course I ain’t!” he howled and pushed your butt further until you righted yourself on the bench seat, “I’m your officer of the law, that’s what I am.”

“I-I-I know that, I just-“ you felt a cold sweat break out at the realization he kept all his stubborn righteousness even skunk drunk on something, “-you seem a little…impaired. For a law officer. For a law officer driving on a government road. See! I do listen, I do and I really don’t think that while you’re dr-“

“I don’t even touch the booze, unlike you.” he spit. “Nothin’ gonna get you outta this, this time you’re gonna learn your lesson!” he wagged his finger and slammed the door shut, you could hear his seething monologue through his open door as he came round and took his own seat up front, the hard plastic partition only muting it slightly. “I can’t stand, won’t stand for it, no hard times gonna make for you-“

You tugged at the cuffs on your wrists and swallowed at their security, the ole man might be inebriated but he sure knew his line of work. It made you doubly anxious at how vulnerable you were, unbuckled and cuffed in the back seat of a man about to hit the road in a blind, possibly medicated rage. Your one glimmer of hope was the fact you were the cause of that rage -and you hoped, hoped so damn hard he cared out of some sort of fondness, not anger.

“Strippin’ and blowin’ and probably snortin’ shit and you ain’t even outta highschool-“

“You turned eighteen?!” He balked, jerking the rearview down to stare you in the eyes.

“Yes sir.” you agreed meekly.

“And you didn’t tell me? I’d have gotten you somethin’!” he cried out, “Eighteen and don’t tell nobody, no mama, no daddy, and now fuckin’ with the law-“

“Officer Presley I understand you’re angry and I’m sorry-“ you tried your most vehemently ass kissing tone and scooted up to the edge of the seat, face pressed the the scuffed, forehead greased plastic divider, “I’m so sorry I had to break my promise to ya but money’s been so tight, I—ooh shit-!“

You tipped over on your side as he hit the accelerator, the wheel already turned for a complete 180 spin to leave the dingy parking lot and its flashing neon lights. You sat yourself back up and pressed your face back where you could watch his leather gloves spin the wheel, and breathe as close to him as possible even if it didn’t serve to make him notice. The plastic sorta hampered the more primal assets at your disposal. You were readying for some more protests when he spoke up, his pouty, boyish, hurt tone emphasized by his jerky merging into three lanes worth of morning commute traffic

“— why didn’t you come to me?” he cried out and you had to give it to him, crossing three white lines that smoothly while in a rage wasn’t for anyone, he had a knack, “Why didn’t you say, ‘Officer Presley, if I don’t have me enough money for’ -what is it you need money for?”

“EVERYTHING!” You screamed back, exasperated and a little scared at the blur of tail lights he wove you through.

“You’re greedy,” he surmised, “you’d rather go work at the tit shack as a lot lizard, shakin’ it for strangers and suckin’ Joe E’s cock than ask for my help. My help!” He stabbed at his chest with a gloved finger and it was quite obvious how tore up he was over that mental image, you didn’t know he knew such particulars but you could use this to your advantage, you could try at least.

“Officer Presley,” you cooed as gently as you could with road noise and a plastic divider hampering your sultry intentions, if you had freedom of movement you’d be reaching around his thick neck and tucking that one sweaty curl behind his ear where it tufted with his sideburn, “I’d have preferred it was you,” you watched closely as that sank in, the lead foot easing on the accelerator, there was a choice up ahead, left to the precinct or right to the trailer park, “but I’ve got my pride and I couldn’t just take charity from you. I kept hopin’ you’d come in, then we could both do each other a favor.”

You could hear him sniff, running a hand underneath his nose. “That right?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, forehead thudding back against the plastic and at the red light intersection he stopped and craned his neck to look at you. “Don’t take me in, not this morning, please, pleaaasssse!” you begged, “We’ve both been working all night and we’re tired and sad and- you need somebody to make you dinner before you fall asleep, don’t ya?”

It was a dirty, dirty ploy to distract him like that but you could see with searing clarity the way his eyes wavered in their glare, then softened into childlike meekness at the thought of food and companionship. “You wanna come back to mine?” he whispered, gravelly from all the yelling and his eyelids batted under the lavender shades, azure and owlish.

“I really do.” you agreed, “Mine hasn’t had any air conditioning in seven months.” you admitted and he made a wounded noise of protest for your deprivations. You’d make him see why you took to stripping, he just had to be eased into it.

“I didn’t take it outta the freezer ‘fore I left.” he realized dejectedly as he turned right -away from the station.

You took a massive breath and tried to make it go to your swimming head, relief coursing through you at getting your way. Then you tried to process what he’d said. “Oh, your dinner?” you prodded.

“Yeah. It’s frozen. Lasagna.” he mumbled.

“Well, that’s nothing me and a microwave can’t solve.” you assure, gauging how his profile had softened in the dim lighting of the cab lights but his grip on the wheel and his jittery leg were about as stiff and upset as when he cuffed you. “What could I do for you in exchange for a bite?” you whispered, the sudden stop of the car making you realize with a hitch in your breath that you were in front of his place.

“I liked you.” he suddenly spoke up with such vehemence that it would have been comedic, what with him having already given into you and taken you home, but instead it was a little heartbreaking. “I liked you but you was too young!”

“I still like you.” you hedged, “Even though you cuffed me and called me a lot lizard.” you teased.

The solicitation, the sharing, it seemed to be his chief sore.

“That’s whatchu is!.” He grouched, staring out his front windshield at the single hung lamp illuminating freshly washed vinyl. “But I’ve taken you home anyways.”

“It’s really sweet of you.” you insisted, shifting on the peeling bench seat and wondering when he’d take you out of the car. “Are you gonna let me warm up that lasagna?”

“You said you wished I’d come in?” he ignored you and went back to your previous comment, about wishing he had frequented the truck stop.

Well, well, Officer Presley - a man like all others, after all.

You smirked, sticky lip gloss feeling a little cracked at this corners as you beamed at your little victory. “Maybe I could find a way to show my appreciation for takin’ me back to your air conditioned little palace. -while the lasagna is warming up.” you clarified and heard him grunt, and shift, his legs spreading a little wider in the cramped front seat.

“Yeah?” he pressed, sounding a little winded unless you were just too quick with the assumptions tonight.

“Yeah.”

“You offerin’ to be *my* lot lizzard?” He asked and after a tense minute where you were unsure if he was about to be angry again, he tapped the glass and whispered, “A joke, c’mon, don’t you get it? It’s a joke.”

“But I would!” You insisted after laughing for his benefit.

“Hmm.” He sniffed again, “Well. Hmm.” and with that unclear utterance he opened his door and heaved himself out into the stale Texas air, hiking up his pants again in that useless habit and shutting it behind him. It seemed an eternity before he finished hiking and shifting and shaking a leg out before he came and opened your door, a gentlemanly action made necessary by the stupid cuffs, still clanking around your wrists, as you scooted out of the back seat.

Officer Presley surveyed you up and down, blinking blearily as if he hadn’t seen you fully in the dark parking lot, like the glare of his headlights wasn't sufficient to show him your little cherry tank top and denim shorts, the satin tops of your red bra peeking out of the stretched neckline. “Hmm.” he hummed again and surveyed you once more, the pull of the cuffs behind your back adding to your posture being a bit booby. “Now ‘fore you cross my threshold, I’ve got house rules.” he was swaying a bit alarmingly and caught himself on the side mirror, you chose to ignore this and give him all the deferential attention needed to cure his -jealousy? Was he jealous? Of all the men who tipped you? “First rule, no dirty feet in the house. I hate filthy carpets. I hate them.”

“O-ok.” you agreed.

“Clean feet.”

“Okey.”

“Hmm. Ok.” he closed his eyes and recalled the next, “Let’s see uh- no back talkin’! No talkin’ back, what I say, goes, in my house.”

It was a trailer, not a house. But:

“Of course! You’re the man of the house!” you enthused with a little bounce for his benefit. He was still wacky and veering so fast from niceness to belligerence you were pretty sure you’d end up a little worse for wear after this no matter what. The thought excited you.

“Ok.” he pronounced, staring at the gravel and your feet like he didn’t know what to do now. You wondered when was the last time somebody had come into his place. “I got a doggie, too. Backroom. His word is law, don’t go botherin’ him none.“

Having seen the size of the dog, even if you were inclined to be a jerk to it, you wouldn’t dare. “Gosh of course.”

“Ok.” again. “I’ll get the hose.”

He left you there, leaning cuffed against his squad car as he trundled over his singed lawn to the side of the trailer, returning with the running hose in hand.

You knew it was destined for your feet and didn’t make a fuss as the warm hose water splashed against your blisters, soothing away the dust and the sticky cocktail splashes and god knows what else.

“House rules?” he prompted as he sprayed.

It was getting quite light out now. Probably close to six in the morning. What a long night. “Clean feet, respect doggie, no back talking.” You listed.

“And make yourself useful.” he grunted as if he had mentioned that before and you’d been faulty in your retelling.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Mm, ‘cause you’re my lot lizard now, ain’t ya?” he hummed, hose pointed to the side and suddenly his face was very close to yours, his belly closer and pressed to yours.

“Y-yeah.” you gasped.

“You gonna be a useful lil helper, hmm? Let hims take care of ya while you take care of him?”

Well shit, you weren’t at all sure if this were house rules or a big sexual game. Either way you wanted some lasagna and the crisp prospect of air conditioned sleep. “Yes, officer.”

“Good girl.” he turned the nozzle off on the hose, clamping it at the mouth and dropping it to the gravel.

“You- are you gonna uncuff me?” you giggled nervously as he swayed above you, nose almost brushing yours, eyes heavy and drooping.

“Hmm,” he stepped back and hooked a thumb in his belt loop, a shit eating grin spread over his face, bunching up the apples of his cheeks and turning him into a boy before your very eyes, “nah. I think -nope. Not gonna.”

“Well- shit, officer.” You sputtered, “You’ve got some little secrets?”

“I’ll let you be the judge of how little they are, sweetheart.” he cheesed before reaching out and hooking a finger in your strap, and tugging you gently by it up his porch.

It was odd, Seeing his ceramic tiger up close. Like déjà vu, or walking into a movie, some dream playing out. If your hands had been free, you would’ve pet the head concrete reverently, feeling some sort of gratitude to the noble beast for making your girlhood wishes come true as you tripped through the screen door and into an icebox of a trailer.

He shut the door and pressed you up against it with a move smoother and more practiced than you expected from him. Maybe wrestling criminals and doing the nasty called for the same dexterity. Or maybe he’d been fuckin’ somebody else all this time, waiting for you to grow up. Maybe he’d made a whole harem out of the trailer park and you were just his last pick. The thought hurt terribly, worse yet as you knew most days he was a sweetie, a funny man, attractive and well liked, not this grumpy, pill drunk trailer Baron that smushed you with his belly and sneering face so near but never descending as a lover’s should.

“Kiss me.” you goaded, licking your lips in a studied way. The little contemplative, whining sound he made took you by surprise.

He pulled down your bottom lip with a gloved finger and checked your mouth and tongue like a damn dentist. “Listerine first.”

Of course. Hygiene.

Clean feet, clean mouth, just for him to probably put his piss dribbled cock in it.

He stepped away and methodically took off his gloves, laid them on a small, doily adorned side table by the door, and then his gun and his belt came off with a satisfied grunt that made your inner thighs tingle. The thud of his large flashlight finished this routine.

Doilies.

There were doilies and frilly curtains and the oddest assortment of cheap finery around the place. A nod to the Tuscan craze taking over places like Target and such, while having a unique spin on it you weren’t sure what to name. You took it all in as he piloted you to the bathroom and methodically he pulled out a still wrapped toothbrush and plopped a jumbo sized bottle of mint flavored mouthwash on the fake marble counter.

“You kept that in case you have a lady guest?” You teased as the clinical silence was all a bit funny.

“Yeah.” he agreed without a hint of amusement and you sobered up again at the idea of him having anybody in here but you.

He poured a large quantity of the mouthwash into a paper cup, retrieved from the tidy stack of paper cups beside the sink for that purpose. His housekeeping was an odd mix of spectrum-like meticulousness and slovenly disorder. There were three pairs of pants on the bathroom rug beneath your feet and yet the mouthwash cups were stacked as carefully as the Tower of Babel. “Swish it for seventy five seconds.” He directed very soberly, tipping the liquid disinfectant into your mouth. You almost swallowed the shit. While you swished till your eyes burned and your tongue went numb from scalding mint, he tore at the packaging for the toothbrush.

“Ok, spit.” you happily spat out the green torture liquid and grinned back at him in the mirror.

“Never had a man ask me to spit it out before.” you teased.

He fumbled the toothbrush in surprise for a minute before giving you an admonishing eyebrow. “Girl don’t. We gotta brush your teeth.”

Instead of doing the obvious thing, the honorable thing and uncuffing you, he instead took his place behind you and pushed the toothbrush between your lips, moving it as if you had no arms and were helpless. All this to keep you cuffed.

What a pervert, you thought, charmed.

It was oddly cozy even if it was more than a tad bazaar, him pressing himself to you and running his spare hand along your side as you bent over the counter, trying not to ruin the moment by slurping paste too much. It didn’t seem to bother him, he didn’t watch you brush, he just discreetly rubbed the front of his slacks against your butt and kept his hand jerking the brush across your teeth. His other hand soothingly running up and down the curve of your hip, fingers fluttering under the hem of your tank and brushing bare skin with reverent little swoops.

When you were finished he laid the toothbrush down beside his, on a folded little towel in the back left corner of the vanity next to the mirror.

The domesticity made you smile. “Look, they’re spooning.”

He grabbed your chin gently, tilting your head to the side as he leaned over your shoulder. His lips very close again. “Happy late birthday.” he whispered, “I’d have gotten you a cake. Cupcake. Somethin’. You deserve to be celebrated.”

“Kiss me?” you asked again and this time he did, at his own pace, micromanaging each swipe of tongue and press of lips but he kissed you, strongly and angrily and admiringly in turn. He pulled down your tank as he went, stretching the neck out beyond any salvaging and then your bra, unclasping it with strange proficiency and letting your top gather in a ugly bulge around your hips, stuck by your cuffs and shorts, as his hands cupped and squeezed your breasts, somehow making this appreciative mauling seem essential to the act of kissing.

You two finally separated, breathless and revved up, staring at each other with wild, half lidded eyes.

“Ok.” he pronounced and you readied for more only for him to say, “Lasagna. C’mon.”

His kitchen was far nicer than yours, but still it was a mobile home kitchen. And he was a thorough bachelor. He crooked his fingers into the plastic handle and yanked open the freezer, standing aside with a grin on his face that bode no good for you. “I’m helpin’ ya out a little,” he explained sheepishly, “since you’re hampered.” he had a way of saying it like handcuffs were a natural disability, “But I let you off scott-free in exchange for you makin’ me some food.”

“Food and other things.” you bitched, “Didn’t sign up to be a comedy act.”

“Oh that’s right,” beamed, “you did offer other things.” he bit his lip and you thought you’d won when he went right back to it, “You said while it was warming up, you offered other things, while it was in the microwave. Yeah, so go on, grab that TV dinner there, not the fettuccini one, the lasagna.”

You stared at the open freezer and then back to him and then back to the freezer. “Grab it?” you sassed, not having a lot to lose with your tits out and your hands cuffed and a law officer having fun at your expense.

“You’ve got a mouth don’t ya?”

“You’re sick.” you smiled in realization before sticking your head into the cold space, nipples pebbling against the chilled plastic, and biting at the package containing Walmart’s latest gourmet provisions.

“Uhuh, that’s it.” he sounded more pleased at the sight of you with a frosted package between your teeth than he had all this time, “Heyer doll, I’ll open the microwave for ya.” his ability to make himself gallant when he was demeaning you so thoroughly made your pulse thunder uncontrollably.

You had to jut your chin and strain your jaw to plop the heavy foil package of frozen shit into the mounted microwave -fancy mobile home owning bastard- and shove it onto its proper revolving plate.

“There we gooo!” he cooed to you and you stepped back to allow him room to shut the door. “See if you can punch the buttons with your widdle nose.” he suggested excitedly and having gone this far, you didn’t see the point in objecting, not when it made him grin like that. You managed to hit the five for five minutes but the “cook” button wouldn’t respond and after banging your nose against it many times, with many laughs shared between, he finally punched it with one of his oddly pretty fingers.

“There we go.” you echoed, finding that you were blushing the minute the hum of the microwave buzzed the air, his eyes pinned to your face.

“Five minutes.” he whispered.

It was a hint. You expected something a little lewder from a man who had you carrying out food prep like a circus dog. A man of many moods and tastes, was officer Presley. “Can you cum that fast?” you asked, turning to face him.

“That’ll depend on you.” he replied levelly, a challenge in his eyes. He still wore his glasses, somehow that made you feel filthier than all the cash favors you’d ever done. He turned a little in his stance to lean back against the counter, his wrist watch jangling against the edge of the formica, his legs widening.

You dropped to your knees, linoleum freezing against your skin and you looked back up at the ticking microwave timer. You knew what he wanted, and if you were being half honest, it’s what you wanted too. So you didn’t act too good for pressing your face to the crotch of his uniform slacks, forehead indenting the swell of his belly above you and taking his zipper between your teeth. Filled out as his slacks were, with all the stupid gathers and the still fastened button, you could only barely see veiny pink flesh behind the newly opened fly.

“No boxers?” you chided him with a smirk and the unapologetic one he gave you in return made your belly clench, as did the musky smell of him and that soft double chin he had when looking down at you. There was stubble on it blending into his throat.

You’d been right, mouthwash and sterilization for your tongue but not even a spit bath for his sweaty balls and clammy dick -the man was out of his mind. You swallowed down the natural aversion the scent gave you and nuzzled your face nearer, trying to nose the button out of its hole. All you did was succeed in brushing his pants against him and making him impatient.

“Four minutes and twenty seven seconds.” He enunciated the timer reading for your benefit and you whimpered at the impossibility of getting the button undone without hands.

“Please, I can’t undo it.” you asked for his help, tugging at your handcuffs angrily, shoulders painfully aching and only the base of his thick penis visible with its nest of curls and heavy sack.

“Then make due.” he stared down at you unimpressed and you felt an overwhelming urge to grind yourself against his boot at his disdainful expression.

Blinking away horny, frustrated tears, you held your breath and buried your face again, nuzzling inbetween the fly gap, using your chin to tug the crotch further down until his heavy, purplish pink balls spilled over the respectable khaki’s and into the cold air. A bit of hope filled you at how taut and bunched they already were, he wasn’t so cool and unaffected as he acted. You saw him reach into his pocket, digging for something as you weighed your next decision.

“Don’t you want some lasagna?” he prodded.

That made you mash your face to his pants and take both of those hairy balls into your mouth, slurping and sucking at them like a shop vac. His jangling movements in his pocket ceased suddenly before picking up again, and then he withdrew it, a sharp gasp heard above you before he stuck a retrieved cigarette between his lips and lit it. A billowy cloud of Marlborough was blown over your crouching form as the microwave hummed on and his chest hummed in satisfaction. He shoved his hand back into his pocket, knuckling along at his cock.

“That’s it.” he sighed as you mouthed at the base as best you could, tonguing at the hefty vein running along the underside, slathering as much as you could reach. He was salty and tacky to taste and his pants were growing wet from something more than your spit. He was a leaky little man, it made your smirk and smack your lips.

“Feel good, officer?” you moaned in question, just as the microwave dinger went off. “Nooo, damnit, no!” you whined at the sound, a poor loser at all times.

Officer Presley only chuckled and twisted a little to pop open the door, hissing and cussing as he grabbed the benign edges of the hot foil and plopped it into the counter, “Hey hey hey, I didn’t say you could get up, now, did I?” he chided as you shifted a tiny bit away to watch him pull off the cover and reveal cheesy red sauce. Your stomach was in knots, it was so empty.

“No.” you admitted.

He twisted his torso to snag himself a fork from the drawer beside your head, and then, stabbing the casserole with it, took both his hands down to his pants and undid the button at last, letting his pants fall to the floor as they’d been trying to do and been prevented by a belt each time you’d seen him. “Finish what you started, doll, and then I’ll give you a bite.”

You swallowed hard, saliva pooling freely in your tongue at the smell of Italian food. It would be of use. He was tapping his sputtering fat cockhead to your lips and after a tiny grunt of resistance, you gave in, opening your glossy lips and letting him slide the thick meat over your tongue, tangy and salty and pulsing like a living rod, all the way to the back of your throat.

“Fuck me, that’s it.” he nodded to himself as you gagged around him, pulling back a little before pushing back in.

You heard the slide of the casserole tray against the counter and the crunch of tin foil, looking up through bleary eyes you saw him cradle the lasagna pan to his chest, balanced on top of his gut. You hollowed your cheeks around him while watching in disbelief as he stabbed at a bite and brought the laden fork to his mouth. He groaned around the bite in enjoyment -your guess over which pleasure was gaining the upper hand. Feeling a little competitive against TV dinner lasagna, you worked his cock faster, sucking more deliberately and trying very hard to let him down your throat, pleased as his hips began to cant and thrust in time with your encouragements.

“That’s it, that’s it, my sweet little homegrown hoe.” he mumbled to you adoringly through a mouthful of pasta and it made your face glow in pleasure, chin and chest dripping with the filth of it all. “I’m gonna, I’m gonna-“ he warned suddenly, pasta tossed back on the counter as he stood up straight and grabbed the back of your head, holding it still, smoldering cigarette pinned dangerously near your ear and hair as he fucked your mouth with fast, frantic pumps before a frankly preposterous amount of spunk filled your mouth and dolloped down your throat.

He petted your head as you struggled to breath again, cloying gloop coating your mouth, one hand coming up to take off his glasses and toss them to the side. He rubbed at his eyes and you realized you weren’t the only one teary eyed from the intensity of it. “Mm, reckon I gotta keep ya after that.” he decided, knuckling your cheek fondly, they were sticky to your surprise. “Want that bite?” he asked conversationally and while you’d have preferred some water to wash down his most recent gift, you nodded anyway and he stabbed at the casserole until he had a great big bite and brought it down to your mouth, smirking as your cheeks once again bulged at the mouthful.

“Thank you.” you smiled up at him and he humphed bashfully before motioning with his fingers for you to stand up.

“Wanna eat the rest of this in bed?” he asked eagerly, licking his teeth, “I’ve got a waterbed.” he added like that would convince you.

“Of course you do.” you giggled. “And of course I do - lead the way.”

He grinned and pushed off the counter, grabbing the casserole as he went. “Might even find the keys for those back here.” he joked about your cuffs before adding with a wicked little wink, “No promises, mind.”

Hope you enjoyed, I write for screams and comments and unhinged feedback. 🤓♥️

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[glitteringsunshine]

Pairing: Leroy Jethro Gibbs x Reader Wife.

Jethro's POV :

“ Ouch Ouch Ouch” I hear Y/N ‘s voice from the kitchen as I enter home.

“ What’s up” I ask, hurrying to the kitchen. “ Why on Earth did you touch those pans with your bare hands?” I ask as I took her hand put it under the cold water from the top.

“ Hey I didn’t realise that the pans were so hot. Not my fault. Well OK partly my fault” she scowled as I rolled my eyes.

“ Go sit down , I am cooking” I say.

“ No. I will cook.” She said stubbornly. “ The steak is done. Just making the mac and cheese to go with it.”

“ I will do it.” I said.

“ But”

“ Y/N” I said sternly.

“ Alright Alright” she pouted.

I chuckled gently kissing her fingers.

After freshening up , I came down to see that she already set the table. I took a couple of candles , lighting them on the table before turning off the lights.

“ ohh wow” she gasped. “ pretty romantic”.

“ Well the Kids are away for the chess tournament in Baltimore. I thought I can make fill use of this time” I chuckled.

“ So while our kids are getting pampered by my parents, you thought of a candlelight dinner. Nice” she laughed. “ Ohh Jackson drove to Baltimore to today to watch our kids play. Mum and Dad convinced him to stay in for the night.” She said warmly. “ Well it’s not much , steak,mac and cheese , bear and ice-cream .I hope you like it.” She blushed.

“ Yeah”. I said. “ But I think I love the company more.”

“ Jethro” she giggled. “ Okay truth be told , I actually cooked your favourite steak to make it up to you. I know you have been angry with me.”

“ I have been” I confessed. “ But everytime you looked at me with your puppy dog eyes, it melted away.” I sighed.

“ Jethro, I am sorry for stonewalling your case. You were investigating a missing navy captain for embezzlement and arms robbery. But the embezzlement was a deep cover created by state to get hold of foreign arms dealer. When you came too close to the case , we could not have his cover blown, hence the stonewalling and the wild goose chase. I was doing my Job Jethro. I am not really happy about the stonewalling I did, but a navy captain’s life was at risk. I did what you would have done , and I am not apologising for that Jethro. But I wanted to cook for you to say I love you.”

“ I love you too Mrs. Gibbs “ I smile kissing her forehead. “ I won’t deny I was angry with you, but that’s different. I was angry with you as a professional, not as my wife.”

“ Good” she giggles.

“ You know darling, if you look at me and giggle like that , we won’t complete dinner. You have no idea how much I have wanted to bend you down and fuck you this entire week” I chuckle.

“ Why don’t you” she says innocently. “ Take out your anger on me. Punish me . Fuck me into submission.” She said blushing.

“ I would love to take you up on your offer , but let’s have dinner now.” I said gently smacking her ass.

…..

Reader’s POV:

Jethro led me up the stairs to our bedroom . He sat on the chair.

“ Strip” he commanded me.

“ Now kneel”

“ You have been a bad girl sweetheart. Tell me what should I do?” he asked.

“ Punish me”

“ Punish me what Y/N”

“ Sir” I replied.

“ Aah you would love that won’t you , my good girl “ he chuckled.

“ You remember your safeword darling “ he asked and I nodded.

“ Now crawl” he said calling me with his fingers. “ Show me how much of a slut you are to me “

I leaned forward before unzipping his pants licking the tip of his cock. I then took him in my mouth. “ Remember Y/N you have a safeword, and a gesture too. Use either of them I will stop, okay?”

I nodded taking his cock deeper in my mouth. He held my head fucking my face shooting his load into me which I swallowed eagerly.

“ On your fours” he commanded.

As I bend on the bed he came up behind be , fingering my slit.

“ Ahh so wet. Who are you so wet for?”

“ You sir only you”.

He fingered my ass and spanked me .

“ Where do you want my cock bitch?” he chuckled.

“ Pussy ,Ass ,both” I gasped as he lingered me to an organization.

He put on a condom before entering my ass. As he moved inside me he lingered my clit and kneaded my breast.

“ Ahh fuck fuck fuck Y/N. Ohh wow,ahh”

I arched my hips to meet him. As I climaxed again he withdrew and taking out his condom he entered my pussy , hitting me at my sweet spot.

“ Aah yes Jethro yes just like that “ I screamed in pleasure. “ Jethro I am gonna cum again. “

“ Shh Babe take it like a good girl” he chuckled . “ You will cum only when I tell you to”

“ Jethro ohh fuck ohh please. Please” I begged.

“ Okay Y/N, let go now . Cum on my cock baby.”

I let go at the command squealing in pleasure as he held my hips to steady myself.

“ Y/N “ he said hoarsely. “ I want to look into your eyes when I finish.”

He then withdrew to lay me on my back before entering me.

“ Come on Y/N, wrap your legs around me”

“ Ohh fuck you are so tight. Wow . Ohh fuck yeah yes. Baby yes. “ I could hear his moans . It reflected mine .

He looked into my eyes before claiming my moans with a deep kiss. “ Jethro ,Oh Jethro. I can’t hold it anymore. Please. I am gonna cum”

He bit my neck and breasts, expert’s sucking my nipples and intensifying every pleasurable sensation in my body. P

“ Yes baby. Cum for me”.

As I climaxed clenching his cock and shuddering with pleasure, he went over the edge shooting his load into mine. He panted touching his forehead against mine.

“ Oh Y/N” I love you so much” he said gently kissing my forehead and brushing his lips against mine. As I ran my fingers through his hair he patted my head before lixking and kissing all the hickeys he had left. He went further down massaging my stomach and gently leaving a trail of kisses. He cupped my pussy before eating me out lapping up every bit of cum that was leaking up from me. As I climaxed on his tongue , he pulled me up for a kiss so that I can taste us.

He poured me a glass of water. “ Hydrate” he said as I sipped from the glass. He then put it on the bedside table before cupping my face and kissing my eyelids and nose.

“ You know maybe I should be a real bitch sometimes. I would love to be punished like this” I giggled.

“ Ahh love , you are my bitch. My sweet little bitch. You are all mine and I am all yours love.”

he whispers. “ I love you my dear. I love you so much “ he said pulling me closer cuddling me.

“ I love you too Jethro,my love” I said resting my heart against his chest feeling his heart beat with the rhythm of love for me.”

[bump1nthen1ght]

Hi hi!! I saw that you are taking headcanon requests. I would just like to ask if you could please write about a fem orc (whatever agab) and an ftm boyfriend. I think the switchy things that could happen are just 🫠🫠🫠

Sure thing anon! My first piece for this blog was for a female orc, so it's always fun to come back to them!

Fem!Orc x FtM!Reader: NSFW and SFW headcanons under the cut

SFW

Your girlfriend is a total romantic. She’s showing up to dates with a bouquet of flowers, your favorite dessert, and dressed like a whole SNACK

Her two favorite dates are an extra-fancy upscale restaurant where you can split the lobster mac and cheese and a casual beach date that ends at a dime a dozen crab shack; There is no inbetween

Absolute fiend at the beach; She’s picking you up and throwing you in the water, smacking your ass and helping you burying you in the sand. She didn’t have many beaches growing up, so it brings out her mischievous little kid side

Will definitrlt wiggle her eyebrows and make a dirty joke if you ask her to rub sunscreen on her back, giggling like a highschooler.

But her jokester persona aside, she’s also the worlds best guard. If anyone harasses you too (or, god forbid, flights with you in FRONT of her) expect a strong grip on their shoulder and an intimidating glare.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying to my boyfriend?”

(Yes she is a little possessive, but your her babe! No one elses!!!)

It’s on those fancy dates when she can bust out the sauve, kissing up your arm and laughing at how flustered you get

(Maybe kiss up her arm as well 👀, She’ll stutter and blush like its the first date)

If you’re forward enough to play footsie under the table she’s totally down, though she will be the most obvious person in the world about it

When desser comes out, expect for her to stick out her tongue and expect you to feed her. If you comply, he’ll make sure to take the most sensual bite, licking her lips as she pulls away.

NSFW

Get ready for your strong orc gf to throw you AROUND. If she can throw you over your shoulder, give a strong slap to your ass, she’s doing it

Also likes to spank you while you’re bent over her knee. Especially when she can call you “Naughty boy” ;)

Oral with tusks is difficult, she’d rather stick to hand jobs and fingering. She’s got those calloused fingers and strong forearms, so she can go for a while.

Sparser on the dirty talk, but will encourage you to make as much noise as possible. (“Tell me how it feels baby.”)

If she’s bottoming she prefers doggy style. Not only is it the most efficient with your size difference ( She’s dummy thicc) but she also loves the way you hold onto her hips when you fuck into her from behind. Dig your nails in, jerk your hips, really make her feel it

Loves having her neck kissed. It’s strong, corded with muscle, but she’ll moan so pretty when you lick at her pulse

Though she’s not especially loud. Mostly groans and grunts and swearing.

“Fuck, that feels food babe. Do that again.”

When you’re bottoming, she likes you to ride her. Now she can hold onto your hips, control the pace, and get to see your cute face scrunch up when she hits deep inside you.

(Her strap skills are obviously immaculate)

Also likes having her hair pulled. It can be when she’s on top as a little defiant tug, or a a degrading yank when’s being subby, it’s all good for her

Can’t really sit on your face (once again, size difference) but her fave position ti get eaten out in is her laid down on the bed and you sitting on your knees, especially if one of her legs is hiked over your shoulder. Her subby side can really come out then (“S-shit, oh my god baby”) but she also knows how to take control if she wants to (“Yeah, you like that pussy?”)

Loves washing you down in the shower after some sex and LOVES when you wash her hair. Nothing like a good scalp massage to end a wonderful night ❤️

[modcrnspirits]

Phillip Savage

Info:

Face: Mike Faist Age: 21, looks like 32 Occupation: unemployed / guardian of the gates Gift: Immortality, powerful almighty magic, wields his mother's bow, Fate, and her sword, Retribution Sexuality: Gay Position: Versatile / Submissive Family: Father: Richard Savage (Russell Tovey) Gods Connections: Ishtar (his mother), Dumizid and Geshtinanna

Body Type:

Cock: ( image ) Cock Size: 6.2 inches (16 cm) Cock Shape: Big mushroom head, thick. Type: Uncut Balls and Pubes: Shaved balls and crotch Ass: Round and firm cheeks, tight ass. Tattoos: No tattoos Body type: Lean and very defined muscles Body hair: Almost no hair Special attributes:  History:

The son of a demon summoner and a goddess, Phillip was supposed to live the best of lives. But after his mother went through her gates in Berlin and disappeared, the boy, who was only 7, promised himself he would find her again. He lived with his dad, with the support of the mac Cumhaill family and he went to the best school while also training to hone his divine powers. A Hero worthy of legends, he got his call when he was around 16 and he left home without telling anyone.

The search for Ishtar led him through the gates when he was 20. And even though, in the mortal world, only seven minutes went by, in the realm he reached, almost 12 years passed. During these 12 years there, Phillip trained extensively and was gifted his mother's divine weapons by his Master, a masked man he knew only by the name of Messenger (it was actually his uncle, the god Shamash). After the heavy training which included fighting mythical creatures and going up high mountains and crossing deserts, Phillip stepped out of the gates again, but he looked 12 years older than when he stepped in.

His current mission aligns with that of Richard and the mac Cumhaill's, which is to protect the world of humans from the gods and demons' whims. He is a vigilant and perhaps one of the strongest beings in the world right now. He still lives in Berlin, where he can visit his mother's gates every week, waiting for her return.

Being the son of the goddess of love also means his sex drive is intense. The more he uses his divine power, the stronger the need to give it back to the universe in the form of sex.

In bed:

he likes long, hard sex, sex houses, and bath houses, exhibitionism, sweat, spanking, nipple play, collars, Master/Sub, toys, watersports, etc.

[scrapsovereign]

That One Time I Got Kidnapped By An Evil Vampire Lord Ch. 3

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57838303/chapters/147545899#workskin

Summary:

Ari fucks around and finds out. Mackenzie's meeting with Rion doesn't go how either of them had planned.

Pairings: past Ascended Astarion x Evil male!Tav, Ascended Astarion x Original Female Character

Trigger warnings/Tags: cheating, intimate partner violence, abusive relationships, medical settings, body shaming, internalized fatphobia, Threats/mentioning of suicide/self-harm, referenced sexual assault, panic attacks/PTSD episode, Mention of swatting/police.

Downtown Seattle, Washington  

Mercy West Medical Group Primary Care Clinic

Thursday, August 24th 

4:53 PM

Nurse Amanda buries her head in her hands as she nods along to the patient she’s speaking with on the phone. 

“I’m hearing that it’s hard for you to take time to come in for an appointment because you need to take care of your kids, your husband, and go to work. But look at it this way, taking time to do a virtual or in person appointment for 20 minutes to see Dr. Calloway to figure out whyyou’re having these symptoms is taking care of your family too. By setting aside the time for yourself, you’re- hello? Ma’am?”

She re-dials the number with her face scrunched up in a grimace, goes straight to the patient's voicemail, and leaves a polite message to call back. 

Amanda is in the middle of typing a passive-aggressive message to Dr. Calloway when Mackenzie leans on the doorframe, clearing her throat to catch her attention. 

“Why do they call and ask for advice, Mac. Why. They’re just going to tell me they know better, refuse to come in, and hang up- HOT DAMN LOOK AT YOU,” Amanda’s blue eyes go wide as she gives Mac a once over with a whistle. “Come here, let me see you.”

Mackenzie does a twirl, the raven-colored silk of her skirt flaring in a circle as Amanda examines the style and craftsmanship of the cocktail dress Mackenzie wears. 

“That fits you like a glove, like it was made for you. Holy shit. Everything’s perfect. Are those zippers to show some leg? Are those french seams? And the ankle strap on those shoes? Whew!” Amanda billows her crepe blouse like she’s having a hot flash. “Where’d you get it from?”

A flush creeps up the low v-neck of the dress, Mackenzie’s hands fidgeting with the waist straps that hang untied at the sides. 

“So, you remember that patient? Yeah, so, turns out he’s a lawyer, and he wanted to meet for drinks to talk about what’s going on with Ari and I. He says he could help. I said that I didn’t have anything to wear and he said he’d send something by,” Mac winces, the pitch of her voice rising higher as she sees Amanda’s face fall flat in response. 

Amanda hangs up her headset quietly, her hands clasped together in front of her.

“I’m not a smart man, but I do know some Christian Grey bullshit when I see it,” Amanda starts, waiting for Mac to catch on. Mac looks at her quizzically, as if she didn’t get the reference. 

“Christian Grey? As in “50 Shades of Grey" based off the Twilight fanfic “Masters of The Universe” by Snowqueens Icedragon? Listen. Nobody just buys someone a dress for a client meeting. Or a pair of shoes, and- is that a necklace?” Amanda squints, distracted by the shiny thing. She leans over to look at the simple, dainty y-shaped silver and black crystal necklace that rests its tail between Mac’s cleavage. “Yeah, nobody does that. Where are you meeting him?”

“I haven’t googled the street address yet, but look at his handwriting. The calligraphy on it is perfect. Smell it,” Mackenzie instructs Amanda, watching as her boss warily pulls the elegantly written note from her fingers.

Amanda pulls down her surgical mask to waft the fragrance up to her. The cologne that scents the paper wafts up to her nostrils and she has to suppress a moan. It’s how she imagines a cup of earl grey tea would taste while she was being spanked with a leather riding crop. She returns it to Mac, leaning back in her hard-won Steelcase office chair, clicking her pen in her hands. 

“You’re in trouble with a capital T.  Mark my words, that dude is up to some shit,” Amanda warns as she tilts her head up at Mackenzie, continuing her analysis of the situation in her inner monologue. 

“You think I shouldn’t meet up with him,” Mac states flatly, hoping to further elicit Amanda’s thoughts on the matter. 

“On the contrary, my friend- I absolutely think you should go. Here, let me tie that for you,” Amanda offers, looping the waist ties through the buttons at the low neckline, making a pretty bow underneath Mac’s cleavage. Mackenzie smiles lamely as Amanda ties her up like a present to be unwrapped.

“Between us and the wallpaper, I think he’s yanking your chain about the whole legal help thing. But you know what? Fuck it. When was the last time you went out? Treat ‘yo self-” she trails off, suddenly distracted by the message that pops up on Teams. Her eyes flash and she bites her tongue, reaching for her headset. 

“I gotta take a triage call- have fun tonight, okay? Text me if the evil fairy prince tries to kidnap you, gangsta,” she gives Mac a sideways peace sign, shutting the door to her office after Mac exits. She messages the front desk back, letting them know she’s ready for the call to be transferred. 

“This is Nurse Amanda, how can I help you?” she asks professionally, knowing full well who it is and who he’s calling for. She calms the rage that bubbles deep within her, pressing the call record button on her computer screen.

“Amanda…hey. Is Kenz there?” Ari’s voice quivers and sniffles on the other end of the line. 

“She’s busy with a patient. Can I take a message for her?” Amanda’s lie is even and tempered while she’s imagining impaling his eyes on the letter opener she turns over in her hands. 

“She’s not answering my calls, or responding to my texts,” Ari sobs. Amanda feels her shoulders twitch and ache.

“Well, she’s at work, and lately middle management really be micro-managing with the phone policy. I don’t even have mine out at my desk unless it’s for work related purposes,” Amanda lies again. She peers down at her own phone that was open to Tumblr earlier, leaning out to look through the window in her office door, seeing the three MA’s that are still in clinic waiting for the clock to run out, all on their cell phones. 

“You don’t understand! Something really urgent’s come up. I need to talk to her,” Ari whines.

Amanda’s really glad Ari can’t see her right now, as she’s stabbing the daily planner calendar that rests on her desk in slow, controlled movements.

“I can take a message-” 

“You’re the one responsible for this, aren’t you?” A switch flips in Ari’s tone as the sobbing suddenly ceases, an edge creeping into his voice that sends chills up Amanda’s spine. 

“For what? The no cell phone policy? That’s all HR, my dude-” Amanda begins, only to be cut off by Ari once more.

“Fuck you, Amanda. I know you’re lying to me, you know what I’m talking about. You’re keeping her away from me. On purpose.” Ari snaps, his voice raising steadily. 

Amanda wants to clap back with something acerbic, deciding instead to let him show his whole ass on the recorded call for quality and training purposes.

“Heh. It’s funny. I know you’ve never liked me. You wish that I’d never met Mackenzie, that I would just disappear from her life. I know you’ve always had a crush on her, that you’ve always wanted her for yourself. You freak,” Ari’s voice is quiet but raw- intense. 

Amanda feels something snap in her at Ari’s suggestion that her relationship with Mackenzie is anything more than sisterly. “This conversation has officially gone beyond the bounds of what is appropriate, and I am going to end it. Goodnight Ari-”

Amanda pauses before she hangs up, immediately recognizing a tell-tale metallic click-clicking noise in the background.

She keeps Ari on the line, willing her hands to swiftly, furiously type a message to her triage nurse buddies at their much larger sister location up the hill at the hospital, asking them to call 911 for a welfare check.

Ari giggles in a queer, high-pitched tone through his resumed tears. “You want it to end? Well, here’s what you’ve been waiting for! I’m going to fucking end it all tonight, to say goodnight forever.”

“Ari, wait. Let’s not do anything…uhm,” Amanda bites down on her tongue as she tries not to finish that sentence with the word ‘hilarious’. “Let’s not do anything we’re going to regret. Hey. Are you at home? Mackenzie will want to know where you are, that you’re safe.”

Amanda receives a message back, asking where he’s located.

“I’m at home. And you’re damn right she will. She’ll never forgive you for what you’re going to make me do,” Ari snarls.

Amanda replies to the group chat with Ari’s name, the address of Mackenzie’s home she rents with Ari, and they give her a thumbs up to acknowledge they’ve seen it.

“Are you there? This is fucking useless-” Ari huffs impatiently as he ends the call. 

Amanda stares blankly at the screen, watching a message pop up saying that the police are on their way. 

She types up a thank you to her colleagues up the hill and hangs up her headset, leaning back to stare at the yellowing ceiling tiles above her.

Amanda’s definitely gotta need some dinner in her first before unpacking the necessary follow-through on that shitshow of a phone call. 

Downtown Seattle, Washington 

University Street and 5th Avenue

Thursday, August 21rst

5:30 PM

Mackenzie’s heels clack bravely against the pavement where Rion specified they meet. She’s out of her element here- in clothing she wouldn’t typically wear, in an area of downtown she doesn’t frequent.

Her heart pounds in her chest when she looks up and realizes exactly where she is.

Of course he’s staying at the fucking Fairmont.

A swell of confidence fills her as she recalls her time spent working at the local anime convention, running back and forth between her current location and the convention center. Yeah, she can do this. She might not actually belong here, but fake it till you make it right? All she needs to do is act like she’s on a mission to retrieve some fussy voice actor for a panel he’s about to be 20 minutes late for. 

She breaks character for a moment to check the specified location on the slip of paper. 

The Founder’s Club? That must be new…the last time she was here was more than 10 years ago. 

She walks up the familiar steps to the Georgian (now called the George), almost missing the opening leading to the dark and moody dimly lit room. She squares up her shoulders as she walks in with all the power and authority of glory days past to give her courage as she surveys the room.

Mackenzie meets Rion’s sultry gaze and her mask crumbles apart.

Her lips automatically tug up at the corners and her knees wobble as she makes her way to where he sits- a leather couch that he rests upon like a throne.

Rion’s body language isn’t the only thing about him that makes him look like every evil anime prince she’d lusted after.

He has the same Italian wool trousers and classic black leather shoes from earlier, but his shirt is different. It’s an obsidian silk that drapes open ever so slightly from where it’s half-buttoned, tempting a view at his perfect body underneath. An array of multi-colored rings, hoop earrings, and a simple necklace with findings that match Mackenzie’s adorns him.

She’s absolutely sure that some deity out there made this man specifically to ruin her.

For a moment, she sees a crack in the seductive airs he’s putting on for her. His smoky eyes sparkle and go wide as he takes the sight of her in. His mouth falls open slightly before he fixes his face, offers his hand up to her.

Mackenzie reaches out to him hesitantly, feeling the electricity crackle between them as their fingers touch. She feels as if she is glowing from the warmth of his impossibly soft lips against her knuckles.

“Mackenzie. You look exquisite, darling. Please, have a seat,” Rion drawls out his request, patting his thigh invitingly with a wicked smile.

Mackenzie freezes for a second. Is he inviting her to sit on his lap? Surely he isn’t. She decides then he absolutely must have been joking, extremely self conscious of the way she sits down as she cautiously lowers herself on the couch, leaving enough space for Jesus between them.

“Heyyyyyyy, so this is nice,” she observes nervously with her hands politely in her lap, her eyes everywhere except on Rion. 

Rion gives her an amused look, the playful bouncing of his foot reminding her of the swishing tail of a cat about to pounce.

“It’s suitable for our purposes. We have a reservation at the George at 7 PM. I do hope that you’re agreeable to dinner, the events of today have left me positively ravenous ,” he says with a bit of a growl, watching the ripple that travels through Mackenzie. 

Her mind goes blank. Wait. Did he just say what she thought he just said? 

“Are you sure about that? It’s good, but it’s expensive,” she warns, her memory taking her back in time to the early 10’s when she shamelessly ordered the butter poached lobster on the convention’s dime, a $50 entree back then. 

He simply smiles at her, leaving to order drinks.

Mackenzie turns her phone back on while she waits, making sure the ringer and the vibration is turned off. She taps on the green text box, her arms turning noodly when she sees most of the 50 new messages are from Ari. 

She stows her phone politely in the pocket of her dress when Rion returns and sits uncomfortably close to her, accepting the short glass with a diamond cut ice cube and orange swirl on top. She sniffs it- is that a manhattan made with Angel’s Envy? How did he know what to order?

“Let us toast to the grand adventure of life and the sweetness of new beginnings,” Rion declares with his glass aloft, Mackenzie awkwardly mimicking the gesture. Her stomach turns as his eyes soften at her and utters a cheers. 

Mackenzie does the same, finding his words both cringe and captivating at the same time.

“Well then! Let’s get down to business,” he says brightly, gesturing freely with his hands after he daintily sets his glass down. Mac bites her lips, preventing herself from singing ‘To defeat…the Huns’ to finish his sentence.

“Tell me everything darling, and spare no detail.”

Downtown Seattle, Washington 

The Fairmont Olympic Hotel

Thursday, August 21rst

6:45 PM

Rion groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose, his very soul aching at the circumstances Mackenzie has found herself in.

“Right. So, if I am following correctly- you met your betrothed at a ‘Ren-Faire’? You took him in when he was unhoused and destitute, without a penny to his name. One thing led to another, and now you’ve found yourselves in unhappily wedded matrimony, mainly so that he has- ‘health insurance’?” Rion looks up to Mac quizzically. 

Mackenzie nods in confirmation. She’s struck by the way he says ‘health insurance’ like it’s a dirty word. Must be nice to have access to single payor healthcare across the pond. 

“And that job you have, that I still don’t quite understand what it is you do. You wanted the power to heal people at a capacity you are unable to do so currently, so you went back to school to be a nurse. When you finally got into the program, you were kicked out because you became severely ill halfway through, all from your husband’s inability to keep his cock in his trousers?” He straightens up and drums the leather of the couch’s arm in irritation, swirling his glass of wine before he takes a greedy sip. 

“That’s one way to put it. As far as I know there’s been at least 5 people I’ve caught him in the act or almost caught him in the act with, but my gut tells me there’s been more that I don’t know about,” Mac casts her eyes downwards, ashamed of how it all sounds… and they haven’t re-capped the worst of it yet.

Rion sets the glass down, turning his body inwards towards Mac, a spark of fury in his ruby eyes. “In addition to the infidelity, sometimes he’s physically violent. He terrifies you. Drives like a maniac while you’re with him, but never crashes the vehicle. Uses and destroys your possessions.”

“He harms you, but it never leaves a bruise,” he murmurs softly, placing his hand atop Mackenzie’s knee to soothe her.

“Speaking of consent. He takes what he wants from your body without it. You feel you still love him, but the thought of being…intimate, touched by him makes you ill,” Rion intones, briefly re-experiencing the unspoken horrors of his past before a sniffle beside him reminds him of his present company. 

A tear escapes from Mackenzie’s mottled face and she raises a hand to wipe it away.

Rion beats her to it.

“On the bright side, your social support is a small circle of loyal, trustworthy friends who would take a knife in the back for you. I find this favorable,” he tapers off, stopping before he reaches the ‘but’, pausing as the recollection of Mackenzie’s futile wishes come to mind. 

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ here, and it’s not the ones we’re sitting on,” Mackenzie jokes nervously in anticipation of this handsome stranger’s assessment. 

Rion snorts in response. He rests his nose over his fist, his expression neutral, exhaling while his keen eyes bore searing holes through Mackenzie’s soul. He sits up straight, having made up his mind what to say next.

“I could speak honeyed words of reassurance, craft a bit of hope for you to cling on to,” Rion murmurs as he raises his wine glass to his lips. “Or I could speak plainly. Tell you the truth.”

Mackenzie fidgets with the bow Amanda had tied for her, looking at the melting blob of ice in her empty cocktail glass. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier to me in the exam room since you left today,” Mac confesses, seeing the dark twinkle that appears in Rion’s eyes. “And I think…I think it’s time I faced the facts.”

“Very well, then. If you stay with him much longer, he’s going to kill you,” Rion informs her somberly, setting down the empty wine glass on the table in front of them. He reaches up to brush his knuckles against the moisture that runs down her cheek.

“I do fear for your safety, your situation is far more dire than I- nevermind that,” Rion interrupts himself with a shake of his head. “Do you have anywhere else to stay tonight?” 

Mackenzie ponders how best to tell him ‘maybe’, remembering how Ari is always critical of her roundabout anecdotes. She would vehemently but silently disagree with him. Details matter: her boss had offered her spare house key but Mac didn’t grab it before she left and doesn’t have the code to keep the building alarm from tripping if they go back to the clinic to retrieve it…

A smartly dressed, petite brunette that had been standing in front of them for the last few minutes patiently smiles down at them. “Excuse my interruption, Mr. Ancunìn. Did you have a reservation at the George at 7? I’m Chelsea, and I’m happy to get you seated. If you’ll follow me, please.” 

Mackenzie recognizes the classic Seattle way of saying they’re late (very polite and indirect, yet firm), standing up too fast to follow after her.

That was a mistake. Her exhaustion, excessive caffeine to keep herself awake throughout the day, and the alcohol have made her into an unsteady, dehydrated mess. She would have fallen face first into the wooden floors were it not for Rion’s uncannily strong arms to catch her. 

“Hold on to me, darling. I’ve got you,” He rumbles, his lips puffing cool, moist air across the hot shell of Mackenzie’s ear. Her breath hitches and she shivers, feeling her nipples pebble, suddenly sensitive as they rub underneath the silk of her dress. 

Oh no. Not the lobes, why did it have to be the lobes?  

His silken reassurance sends sparks out through the nerves of Mackenzie’s body. She links his arm with his and she feels her core spasm when he corrects her, firmly placing her hand to grip inside the crook of his elbow. Her eyes widen in horror when she feels a warmth starting to pool between her legs, feeling the glide of something slick as they walk side by side.

She inhales and exhales slowly, exerting what she feels like is the only control she has over her tipsy, lust-addled body. An empty, placid smile graces her lips as she cusses like a sailor at herself for reacting this way, how she thrums with need for him. 

Mac wishes she could tip her head back and ugly laugh in wonder at how life can be so cruel as they walk to their table. He pulls out her chair for her as they are seated and she thinks she’s going to start crying any moment now. She glances briefly at the menu, looking beyond him as she orders the most expensive thing on the menu at his insistence. He smiles at her dreamily, his beauty driving a wooden stake through her heart. It’s not like he’s the amalgamation of every 2D man she’s ever fantasized about, appearing in her life at the absolute worst time.

Mackenzie feels a tap on her shoulder, the server briefly trying to attract her attention. 

“Are you Kenz? Ari’s roommate?” the server asks excitedly. 

“That would be me,” Mac says with fake cheer, ignoring how Rion’s face falls in obvious disapproval at the word ‘roommate’. “Are you one of ‘The Mighty’?” 

The server nods enthusiastically, confirming herself as a fan of Ari’s streams. “Oh my god, how did you know? It’s so great to meet you- could I get a selfie?” the young woman asks, buzzing with excitement as she fumbles her phone in her hands. 

The corner of Mac’s face tugs up in a half-hearted smile, her palms sweating as she searches for the strength to refuse. “I appreciate you asking instead of just taking one. I’m so sorry, but is it okay if we don’t? I just…I don’t know if I feel comfortable being perceived like that right now.”

The server turns the camera app off with an embarrassed laugh. “Hey, it’s all good. I’m actually surprised to see you here with everything that’s happened today,” she says, her fingers tapping on her cell phone screen. 

“Why do you say that?” Mac asks innocently, her skin growing clammy, the air feeling suddenly too thick around her. 

“So you know the trend that’s going around on Tiktok where influencers call random numbers and threaten to unalive themselves?” the server asks, as if the words she’d spoken were extremely normal.

“Pardon, the who does the what on the what?” Rion tilts his head to the side, his brows furrowed in confusion as he tries to parse her words. 

“Yeah, so there’s a trend going around on Tiktok where people call random numbers and threaten to KMS. Here, it’s better if I show you-” the server says, coming up to Mac’s side with her phone in front of them. Rion leans over with a scowl and the server angles the video so he can see. 

Mackenzie watches a clip compilation of Ari fake-calling her clinic, speaking with Amanda around the exact time she had left the office, and a cut later to 3-4 police officers tackling him to the ground as he waves an empty airsoft pistol in the air.

The video ends with a thumbnail of Ari’s dumbstruck, open-mouthed shock in reaction to the police rushing into their house in the background of his stream.

“And see what’s in the background?” the server asks rewinding the video. She zooms in on Jas shrieking in fright as her Tiktok dance routine is interrupted by the shouting of the cops. 

“Oh wow, that’s…wow,” Mackenzie says robotically, her stomach dropping through the floor and her emotions with it. 

“Right?! Well, it’s very nice to meet you and your-” she pauses, allowing Rion the space to fill in the blank. 

“Date,” Rion bites out, displaying his unnervingly straight, pearly white teeth. The server ignores his reply and looks in back of her, mouthing a curse at something that’s caught her attention.

“I gotta go. But it’s been nice talking with you! My name’s Tess. I’m not your server for the evening, but I had to come and say hi and thought I’d get your order in while I did. Tell Ari I hope he’s staying mighty,” Tess requests as she power walks away, back to her section. 

Mackenzie smiles and nods, a deafening high pitched noise ringing in her ears as she stares blankly out into space. 

Ari called her work, talked to Amanda and threatened to commit suicide so people would like/comment/subscribe, and then was ‘shocked Pikachu face’ when Amanda did what she’s supposed to do by calling the cops. 

A hot flush that goes frigid and numbs her entire body settles over her. Ari’s going to find some way to pin it all on her, to make it all her fault, to take it out on her. Her insides that have frozen to ice tell her so. 

“Mackenzie? Darling? Are you quite alright?” Rion’s eyes narrow as he watches her face carefully, curiosity turning to recognition as the rise and fall of her chest begins to quicken, her eyelids squeezing tightly shut. 

“I’ll be okay, I just need a minute,” Mac whispers with a shuddering breath, her hands beginning to tremble. “I think I’m having a panic attack. It’s okay, it’ll pass. It always does.”

Rion’s jaw tightens, his nostrils flaring in anger as he forcibly exhales through them. 

Mackenzie is too far gone into her panic spiral to notice him rudely summon their section’s server back to their table with a loud snap that startles the other diners around them. Mackenzie can’t hear a word Rion says to their server, only that he discreetly slips a few green bills featuring the balding head of Benjamin Franklin into their pocket. 

Her body moves on its own as he assists her to stand with practiced courtly manners. She walks with him in a daze, barely noticing the arm curled around her waist, their fingers tightly intertwined as he guides her to the hotel elevators.

[royalvixxen]

MEET MY MIDDLE / LITTLE

How do you Identify: Middle

Your Name: Heidi 💕

Gender: Female

Physical Appearance: cute and edgy, graphic tees, plaid shirts, skinny ripped jeans, shorts and skirts, kinky coily curls, glasses and contacts, Vans, converse, nike and jordan shoes, and pretty dresses

Describe your Personality: loyal, shy, stubborn, quiet and friendly, observant, quirky, loves to help others, playful

Hobbies/Interests: Anime, gaming 🎮, cooking, art, music, dancing, reading, coloring

Favorite Fun Activity(ies): Making collages, cooking/baking, amusement parks/fairs, zoos, spending time with friends

Centering Activities: Playing video games, coloring, cooking, watching anime

Favorite Animal: Foxes, Wolves, Dragons, Red Pandas, Dogs, Otters

Favorite Toy/Object: Nintendo DS, UNO Cards, Phone

Markers, crayons, or colored pencils?Markers and Colored Pencils

Favorite Color(s): Maroon, Purple, Emerald Green, Rose Gold

Favorite Sweet Treat(s): Brownies, Lemon Cake, Ice Cream

Favorite Snack(s): Pretzels, Chex Mix, Nutella toast with strawberries, any fruit

Favorite Food(s): Tacos, Fettuccine Alfredo, Chiken nuggets/rings, fries, mac and cheese

Favorite Drink(s): Sweet/Peach Tea, Strawberry Lemonade, Chocolate Milk, Fruit smoothies, Lattes

Favorite Season: Fall

Bratty or Sweet in nature? Sweet ☺️¸

Strong-Willed or Easily Guided? Strong Willed

Rough & Tough or Gentle & Sensitive? Gentle & Sensitive 😌¸ but can be rough and tough when she needs to be

Do they Prefer Cuddles or Play Time? Both

What kind of Music do they like? Pop, HIp-Hop, Country, 90s/2000s R&B

Favorite Movie(s)/TV Show(s): Anything 90s/2000s Disney, The Magic School Bus, Totally Spies, Winx, 90s/2000s Nickelodeon, Zoboomafoo

Their Best Attribute: Her Kindness and being helpful to others

Their Worst Trait: Her stubbornness

What would be a Punishment to them?? Restricting the ability to go out and do something (ie, you can’t go out with friends this weekend, no going shopping, etc).

* A Stern Lecture

* A Spanking

* Writing Lines

* Being made to Write Out their feedings and/or an apology and give it/read it to the person they hurt or disrespected.

* Being treated as a younger age in an "Act like a Child, be treated like one" type of scenario.

* Having privileges temporarily taken away.

What would be a Reward they would enjoy? Quality time with her person! Taking her shopping or to get ice cream. Planning a movie night!

* Going to a Fair or Amusement Park with games and rides.

* Going to a special event or concert with their Big and/or other Little/Middles.

* Receiving a Special Gift that feels personal

Are they sexually awakened? She is sexually awakened but not as much.

Do you currently have a Big? Sorta we haven't fully discussed to dynamic but are making plans too.

Describe your Big OR what kind of Big you would love share a dynamic with: 

They’d need to be very patient and willing to go slow emotionally with her. They need to be able to control their anger/tone, but assertive and possessive when needed. They have to let her have a wild spirit, but know that she will always come back to them. And they need to lover her quiet, shy and nerdy self, she loves being a goob and being a weird, little thing. Must love cuddles and watching Disney movies 🥰

Favorite Thing about your Big OR what you're most looking forward to about them??

She’s looking forward to the security they want to offer. As much as she likes to roam and do her own thing, she longs to belong and have space that’s specifically for her.

What else...?

I'm still learning about my middle and I'm really excited to explore this space further...

Something to know is that I don't go into my middle headspace very often, much like submission it's something I share with very few directly. That being said I would LOVE to share some middle/little time with others who identify this way.

[marycorleone]

The Girl Paratrooper — Chapter III

Disclaimer: I :The character Leigh was created by @msmercury84 . Go to her blog and read her fanfic 'Bill Guarnere x F!OC'

II: I'm from Brazil, and here, in my country, I'm a writer. I'm an English student too, and in the future I'd like translate my book for English. I'm writing in here for improve my writing, so corrections are welcome 🤗

Face claim: Kaya Scodelario as Mary.

Plot: Joe Liebgott and Mary Corleone were engaged, but he betrayed her during the war and they broke up. Mary ended up getting involved with Bill Guarnere and they married, but them marriage was an error.

Mary said bye to Chuck, but she couldn't imagine that she would go take so many months to see him again.

Grant came out driving, with other two guys and during the way, he was shot by a replacement from I Company.

As soon as the son of a bitch was brought for the house, Joe Liebgott started the spanking. Joe in the room pulling the bastard by his shirt, as Mary, Luz and Floyd were waiting his arrived.

They had stayed waiting as the Easy came out looking for Mac. When Mary saw Mac and she discovered that was him, she ran to him, ignoring Lieb, that brought him.

'You son of a bitch!' She screamed, and she spat in his face.

The man also spat in her face and this act made the boys stay angry, but Lieb stayed very furious.

'Are you crazy? It's a girl here! How do you dare?'

Mary would go to say that she didn't need to be defended, but Bull got up the man from the floor and took him to the other room.

'Don't worry, Mary. This piece of shit will be fuck himself by what him done with Chuck. Don't enter in here, please. I know you already saw a lot of the war, but what gonna happen in this room is men's stuff.'

'I don't lack will Bull, I I'll respect what you asked me. I can understand you.'

Then, Denver Randleman locked the door and the last thing Mary saw was Malarkey tying up Mac to the chair. Oh, that little shit would go fuck himself, and she didn't care with his spit.

The point was Chuck, that nobody knew if was dead or alive. Mary stayed in the next room with Luz and Floyd. The screams of the boys were audible, even the door was locked, and everyone took turns hitting the man who had shot Chuck.

An hour later, Floyd started to get uncomfortable with was happening, cause plenty of time had passed and the spanking still not had finished.

Mary looked to the door and Lieb was standing there, looking at her.

Her heart hurt. Why he done that with her? Why? They could have been happy together.

'Hey, mary.' Luz called her 'Can you imagine what Bill would do I'd him was here?'

'Oh, I really can imagine, Luz. Right now, the son of a bitch would be dead.'

Angry, Floyd asked if Luz wanted play other game, but him said no. The Speirs arrived in the room speaking loudly.

'Where os he?'

'How's Grant?' Luz asked.

'Where is he?'

'You okay?'

'WHERE IS HE?'

'In the room' Mary said and Speirs went there.

Mac was bleeding. Mary looked for Lieb and then she and he looked at each other.

With my own gif 🔥

[callsignspark]

so life got in the way a bit today and while I'm almost done with a nonsense christmas it's not going to be finished and edited until late tonight. so I'm pushing the upload until tomorrow night. apologize about this, but as a small thanks for your patience, here's a longer snippet!

below the cut 18+ minors DNI

“I like you, just so we’re clear, but you look so fucking sexy right now, our first date is going to have to be at breakfast tomorrow. That okay with you?”

Noelle quickly nods, pulling him closer by the ridiculous collar of his stupid costume that is so unfairly sexy. “Perfectly fine.”

It’s all Harrison needs to press their mouths together, using the same passion he has when they argue about the supreme artists of the seventies, even though he knows that his ABBA could never beat her Fleetwood Mac. He’s overwhelming in the best way; his hands roam her body, never staying in one place long enough to satisfy but just long enough to tease. Pulling back for air, he continues on; kissing down her neck and playing with the fuzzy edge of her dress, fingers dipping into the built-in bra and pinching her nipple. The cocky chuckle when she moans and rips the Santa hat off his head shouldn’t be sexy, but it is.

“Wait…” She nudges him away when her phone starts chirping in her clutch. “Fuck, Harrison, wait.”

“What’s wrong, honey?” He mumbles against her décolletage.

“I gotta let Kris know I’m good for the night or she’ll send a search party. Shit!” Noelle hisses when he nips at the tender spot between her breasts.

“One minute and then I’m coming to collect you, got it?” Harrison nudges her toward the kitchen, cheekily spanking her ass when she presses a kiss to his cheek on her way past.

The lipstick mark left behind sends a thrill through her, and the desire to leave more is only stopped by her phone beeping again.

[sparrowsingsstories]

♥ : Does your muse like to cuddle after sex? Anything else for aftercare?

👎🏻-What is an absolute deal breaker in the bedroom?

Alle 3 bitte?

Thank you!

♥ : Does your muse like to cuddle after sex? Anything else for aftercare?

Mercy: Hell. Yes. All the cuddles. Cuddles when sleeping too. She's 100% about the cuddles. She also likes to shower with her partner(s).

Frankie: This is one of those situations where the cuddling happens and she's good with it because it's Beau. Showers are great, wound care for bruising is a must frequently. Beau tends to be very attentive and will give her back rubs, get her food and water, hold her close, and of course - cuddle.

Sparrow: Yes. Sparrow is touched-starved. Sparrow will cuddle with friends if she trusts them: case in point - before anything remotely sexual happens between her and Bean or her and Darcy, she curls up with them to talk. Aftercare probably involves feeding her, showers or baths, and hair petting.

👎🏻-What is an absolute deal breaker in the bedroom?

Mercy: Anything rough. Light spanking is okay but do NOT actually tie her up. Nothing cold - cold play is Right Out. She's also not a fan of melty wax play. Pain play. Name calling beyond things like love or sweetheart. No exhibitionism, either. And if Mac or Deeks tries anything when Jake is over and sleeping with all of them, she gets PISSED.

Frankie: Consent matters. If she says No, she means No. But she hasn't found that limit yet - probably because Beau reads her so well. And she trusts him 100%. And she knows if she safe words, he'll stop.

Sparrow: Sparrow is my least knowledgeable about sex. She moves slowly when her and Bean get intimate. With Bean, it's okay - because they're nonbinary and identify as...well...Bean. And Bean is so gentle and soft with her. Darcy is...a man. And that makes things a little bit more iffy at first, because she's had such trauma at the hand of men (and the slaver who hurt her family is related to Darcy...that's a long story). But she doesn't do pain. At all. Period. No name calling. No humiliation. That goes for Frankie & Mercy too - but for Sparrow, she might kill you if you call her a name or try to humiliate her.

[the-firebird69]

black woman climbs to Statue of Liberty police remove her - Google Search

"On July 4, 2018, Therese Patricia Okoumou, a Black activist, climbed the base of the Statue of Liberty to protest the separation of migrant families at the US-Mexico border"

https://www.google.com/search?q=black+woman+climbs+to+Statue+of+Liberty+police+remove+her&oq=black+woman+climbs+to+Statue+of+Liberty+police+remove+her&gs_lcrp=EgZjaHJvbWUyBggAEEUYOdIBCDc1NjhqMGo0qAIOsAIB&client=ms-android-cricket-us-rvc3&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8#:~:text=On%20July%204%2C%202018%2C%20Therese%20Patricia%20Okoumou%2C%20a%20Black%20activist%2C%20climbed%20the%20base%20of%20the%20Statue%20of%20Liberty%20to%20protest%20the%20separation%20of%20migrant%20families%20at%20the%20US%2DMexico%20border

My brother and my wife's sister she says me too ran up and plastered her and driving and carried her off and said that she was petrified and it was the Mac property that hit her back then and they had weapons like that and that's what somebody said

Zues Hera

It was a long long time ago and it was a weapon it was occasion cage you and the max did not have a weapon they forced to do that

Thor Freya

He carried her home on his own and cut her out of it carefully and healed her and her skin and she came back and was okay and my husband has been through a lot with these people and now you fight each other and you become a pyrea just like your master wants. You're not doing it you're not looking some people have to do it like Tommy f and yeah others will be forced to and thank you for him except for him shooting at my husband damn it Macs always was ruin everything. But if you get your wife out we can go out on a double date you and your wife and me and my husband and he came up with it and I agree

Hera

In what format and he says maybe the Statue of Liberty that would be great I seen the pyramids that I believe you and thank God for you I'd be the biggest monster on Earth and say it's my fault for behaving like a human being making fun of the right people not me mostly and it's probably Dempsey fo forcing me to butt clench and don't bring that s*** up now damn it

Tommy f

Olympus butt clenching is very rude and it was awful and Dempsey was doing it he was a dumb dick with his ass was asleep like Ken and Ken does it way too much

That's illegal language from across the aisle

Ken

Kenny that junk in your trunk is the money maker let's not accept the apple cart they're going to shake that money tree

Zues

Boy that sounds very wrong he's not a homo or anything at all and I do know what he's saying

Ken

Preston is retaining you spanking my bottom so we're going to print

..

Olympus again

[shoppetrust]

Songbird for mac

#Songbird for mac for mac

#Songbird for mac mac os

#Songbird for mac update

Removing Songbird apps is more than just moving them to the Trash - it’s completely uninstalling them. When you’re done installing the application, it’s a good idea to unmount the DMG in Finder. But Applications is the most convenient place to put things, so we suggest you just put everything there.ĭMG files are mounted by your system, like a sort of virtual hard drive. Some people create a “Games” directory, to keep games separate from other applications. You don’t have to put your programs in the Applications folder, though: they’ll run from anywhere. Then you can feel free to delete the original DMG file: you don’t need it anymore.When you’re done installing: just click the “Eject” arrow.And you’re done: the Songbird is now installed.Simply drag the application’s icon to your Applications folder.Often these will include the application itself, some form of arrow, and a shortcut to the Applications folder.Double-click the DMG file to open it, and you’ll see a Finder window.dmg installation file from the official link on above

#Songbird for mac for mac

Like if you wanna download Songbird for mac from this page, you’ll directly get the.

#Songbird for mac mac os

Most Mac OS applications downloaded from outside the App Store come inside a DMG file.

See the latest news and content from the currently playing artist via.

Get more music for your library from the Amazon MP3 store.

See album art or DVD cover art in the now playing section for any device.

Push audio and video content to wireless devices, like connected TVs, DVD players, and speakers.

Note: This product is not compatible with macOS Catalina and later.

Ability to subscribe to MP3 blogs as playlists.

Media files stored on pages viewed in the browser show up as playable files in Songbird.

Media import / export (from and to iTunes).

Last.fm integration via a plugin, complete with love/hate buttons.

Ability to play audio formats MP3, AAC, Ogg Vorbis, FLAC, Apple Lossless, and WMA.

#Songbird for mac update

You can customize its appearance with skins, and create dynamic playlists that automatically update based on criteria you set. It lets you play, manage, and discover music. Songbird is a cross-platform music player based on Mozilla code. “Unfortunately, the company has found ourselves unable to fund further business operations and as of Jall of Songbird’s operations and associated services will be discontinued.” They go on to recommend Nightingale to those who want a free, Open-Source alternative. This is a standalone spinoff in the Bellator Saga series that takes place after the events of Bellator Saga #1-6.Note: The developer had announced the end-of-development for Songbird…. And isn't ready for.īut opposites attract, don't they? And hearts and minds can always be changed… Until Alexander Guardiola comes along… liberal, emotionally unguarded, younger. She has her best friend Caroline, her brand spanking new condo, and her ever frustrating Secret Service detail to keep her company. On her to-do list - rebuild her relationship with her estranged daughter and invent the rest of her life. After a lifetime in politics, including a stint with an expat government in exile, President Sullivan has taken her share of body blows, but now she's back in Philadelphia…a widow, a recovering Republican, a former public servant seeking a quiet, private existence. She knows how the world sees her – aloof, standoffish, cold…perhaps even bitchy. Christine Sullivan isn't an easy person to love.

[ssareids-coffee]

What about reader finding a little notebook of eddies while she's cleaning his room and he's outside working on his van. His book is FILLED to the brim of very explicit things he plans on doing to her once they finally have sex bc he wants to take things slow. Then she comes to the realization that omg my boyfriend is a little pervert. When eddie comes back inside she's very shy and kinda jumpy bc of the things he has in their. Like spanking, spitting, pee, overstimulation, role-playing etc.

i’m obsessed w this!!

(18+ drabble below) cw: blood, piss, spitting, allusions to smut

you pottered around eddies room looking for his bag while he finished making dinner- you had asked him to carry your homework books for you and wanted to get them before you forgot. finally seeing his bag, you unzip it and start rummaging through the mess to find your stuff, when you see an open notebook with your name. curiosity got the better of you, pulling out the paper and reading what eddie had written about you. it was a list, not a small one, detailing things he wanted to try with you. heart pounding in your chest, you feel a familiar ache between your thighs as you read each carefully bullet pointed position, kink or location. “make her cum so hard she pisses” “use a knife to carve my name into her thigh and cover her in the blood” “spit my cum back into her mouth after i’ve cum in her pussy” “make her cum so many times she cries”. you had never really considered any of these things, your sex education being minimum and not having any exposure to these kind of kinks but you were practically dripping at the thought of him doing this to you.

“hey babe the mac and cheese is done, honestly it looks a little burnt but-“ eddie froze, finding your crouched on the floor reading his notebook full of dirty little thoughts about you “shit, im so sorry you probably think i’m a perv-“

“you want to do all this stuff to me?“ you ask hesitantly, he was sure you were disgusted until he allowed himself to meet your gaze- flushed cheeks, pupils blown and lips parted.

“shit- yes, do you- do you want me to?” your standing up now, walking over to close the gap between you both.

“yes, god yes” you whimper, slowly handing eddie his pocket knife he keeps in his bag “want you to mark me up, make me yours”

“jesus fucking christ, i am going to ruin you if you keep talking like that”

“maybe i want you too daddy”

“you are going to be the death of me”

[erenoir]

i kissed the teacher

“your daughter is wonderful in class, now i can see where she gets it from.”

💿 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚢 𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚊

❥ what appears to be an innocent crush on your daughter’s new teacher seems to blossom into something a little less kid-friendly.

❥ warnings: 18+ dark content, dom!levi, sub!reader, age gap [early twenties-mid thirties,] rough sex, unprotected sex, mommy kink, dacryphilia, dubcon, degradation, dumbification, breeding, titty fucking, fingering, creampie, light bondage, name-calling, male masturbation, squirting, choking, spitting, slapping, spanking, nsfw, MDNI

❥ featuring: kindergarten teacher!levi x single mom!reader

❥ word count: 6.4k

❥ a/n: i think i am out of breath after writing this . this might be the smuttiest little thing i’ve done. thank you to bb @erenslittlestepsister for beta reading this for me!

What a crazy day

When I kissed the teacher

All my sense had flown away

When I kissed the teacher

—

Running down the corridors of your daughter’s elementary school with her tiny hand in yours, you dragged her small figure from hallway to hallway, desperately trying to search for her classroom.

“Honey, are you sure you don’t remember which one it is?”

“Yeah mommy! It's the door that has a window on it! Mr. Levi makes silly faces at us th-through it when the hall mom-moni-monitator takes us to lunch!” Your daughter beamed up at you, gushing over her new teacher for the umpteenth time today.

She came stumbling off the bus and into your arms earlier this afternoon, flailing the craft she had made in his class in your face, clearly proud of the construction paper heart with all of her favorite things drawn on the inside.

“Mommy! I can't wait for you to meet Mr. Levi! He’s the bestest!” She oozed as you pinched her cheeks, swinging her up into your arms and taking her inside the house.

Your daughter was sitting at the kitchen island, swinging her legs off the seat while she ate her leftover macaroni and cheese from lunch. You sat across from her with your head buried in your computer, frantically trying to get this email blast out to your clients before your boss’ deadline.

“M-mommy?” Your little girl mumbled with a mouthful of cheesy pasta.

“M’hm?” You responded absentmindedly, eyes not leaving your screen.

“Mr. Levi says I'm the best drawer in class!”

“Oh yeah love?”

“Yup! He draws big A’s on my crafts…”

You chuckled softly to yourself, your daughter did have quite the imagination, you weren’t surprised by her story, though told in the sweetest broken speech and mispronunciations.

“Is that right baby? You know mommy has a parent-teacher conference tonight right? I'm gonna meet Mr. Levi…” You gave her a teasing side-eye, insinuating that she better not be lying to you, and that she was actually, in fact, a wonderful student.

Your mini you squeals enthusiastically, squirming in her seat, fragments of mac and cheese sticking to her plump cheeks. Her little hands come together as she claps quickly, “I know mommy! Mr. Levi is very nice!”

“Yeah? I hope so. We’re leaving soon okay?”

3A, 3C, 3E…

You mentally read through the number-letter combinations on the doors, eyes scanning the rows of mahogany for the number of the room you finally got from one of the janitors. 3H… 3H… 3H… here we go. You turned to look at your daughter playing with her feet as she stared intently at the floor.

“Okay baby, be good now okay? We’re already freaking late…” You mentally cursed yourself for not accounting for the traffic that there would be while you tried to find parking at the school. You made a feeble attempt at trying to fix yourself before walking in, you were already a young mother, so being taken seriously was not something that came easily for you. But you quickly brushing through your hair with your fingers and tucking in your shirt was helpless. You looked a disheveled mess from doing your makeup haphazardly in traffic and then running through the entire school with a six year old, now a sweaty mess. Fuck this, you rolled your eyes, if he can’t take you seriously then he’ll just be another elderly man that laughed in your face when you told them your age. Your clammy hand twisted the brassy doorknob to classroom 3H, stumbling in with your daughter trailing behind you, clearly showing signs of annoyance as all of the parents and their kids already sat down passed judgmental stares in your direction. Your eyes searched the cramped classroom for the new teacher to give him an exasperated but apologetic smile.

“Hi! I-I’m so sorry we’re late! There was loads of tra… traffic…”

Holy shit… that was Mr. Levi?

Your eyes froze on his figure, widening when you realized that this was no “grumpy, old man,” like your daughter jokingly described. You hadn’t realized your mouth was agape, close to drooling, as you were brought back to reality by your daughter tugging on your hand.

“Excuse me? Miss. Y/L/N?”

You blinked your eyes quickly, trying to regain your composure after the less-than-professional entrance you made.

“I said it’s okay… it seems we don’t have any seats left… let me just grab two from the hallway…” Mr. Levi trailed off, jogging past you quickly while giving your daughter a small pat on the head, before he came back in the classroom with two folding chairs. He placed them right in front of his desk, not wanting to disturb the orderly rows of parents already filed neatly into the heart of the room. He waved his hand to the seats, gesturing for you two to sit down. You placed a hand on your daughters shoulder while you quietly usher yourselves into the plastic chairs, whispering silent “sorry’s” and “excuse me’s” to the parents who weren’t exactly pleased with you interrupting the conference.

“As I was saying…” Mr. Levi looked down at you with dark eyes, stern but soft as he held a sweet spot for your daughter, one of his favorites in class.

“My name is Levi Ackerman… your kids call me Mr. Levi, the staff calls me Mr. Ackerman, but you can just call me Levi…” He rubbed his hands together and licked his lips before continuing, grabbing a piece of chalk and writing his name down on the board.

“A-C-K-E-R-M-A-N… Ackerman,” he spelt out loud, underlining his last name with a squiggly line.

“I'm new to the school district… many of you won’t recognize me… so allow this to be my proper introduction…”

Your eyes followed his body like a hawk, my god he was fucking hot, you thought. He paced back and forth in front of you, lingering in his place when his back faced you. You took your bottom lip in between your teeth when you saw the way his slacks cupped around his ass perfectly, or the way his hair was parted, strands of raven hair framing his chiseled features hypnotically. Levi cleared his throat and squinted his eyes at you so only you could notice, as if he was casually putting you in your place, watching as your eyes quickly darted from the outline of his dick in his navy pants to his eyes, stern and disciplinary. Your face was brushed over with embarrassment, Levi smirked slightly as he turned around, facing to speak to the other side of the classroom now.

“I'm 36 years old… I just moved to the area a few months ago… settled in a nice apartment with my cat… any cat lovers out there?” He jokingly asked the parents, who were hanging onto his every word. Thank god, clearly you weren’t the only one completely entranced by this man’s aura.

“What's my cat's name you guys?” He asked his students, your daughter jumped up in her seat and raised her hand eagerly, begging him to pick on her.

“Yes, Y/D/N?”

“It’s Haaaange!” Your daughter drawled, trying her best to put the syllables together. You laughed quietly and rubbed the small of her back.

“Good job honey,” you whispered.

“Yes, a good job indeed,” Levi resounded, smiling at you softly caressing your daughter, trying to calm down her excited nature. Levi thought you were a beautiful little thing, a little disgruntled but, he craved a little chaos in his life, he loved to put disorganized things into their places. His smile deepened even more when he spotted the lonely ring finger on your left hand… not married? He wondered, perfect.

“I studied childhood education and psychology at the University of Marley, and finished my degree about 8 years ago… I believe the best way to learn is through repetition and positive discipline… Levi took note of the way you crossed your legs and squeezed your thighs together at the mention of his teaching techniques. Are we intrigued, little one? His mind raced at the thought of you responding so well to the slap of a ruler or a demerit star on your chart… submissive, are we?

“Now please don’t misconstrue my intentions… I only want the best for my students… I want them to grow and learn from their mistakes, not be ashamed of them! And I've seen massive improvement since their first day in September… I'm very proud of them.”

The kids' voices sang throughout the classroom, responding to the words of praise from their teacher.

“So tonight, I'll be meeting with each of you in the order that your kids are listed on my attendance sheet… the kids will be taken to the gym by a hall monitor to have some free play time while we discuss their progress in class! Does that sound good?”

Your daughter had been off playing with her friends in the gym for nearly an hour now, you were growing frustrated with her spot at the bottom of Levi's attendance sheet, guess they didn’t go in alphabetical order. You were the last parent of the night, anxiously bouncing your knee and clutching your purse to your chest as you fumbled around in the metal chair. “My god, this shit is taking long,” you mumbled under your breath, thinking the hallway was empty.

“Impatient, huh?” Levi's laugh came from behind you as you turned around in horror, “I'm sorry about the wait Miss. Y/L/N… come in, come in!”

“O-oh my god I’m so… shit, it’s a late night, you know? It’s nothing against you… how unprofessional of me…” You trailed off, not wanting to make eye contact with your daughter’s intimidatingly beautiful teacher. A wild thing is what you are, Levi groaned at his menacing thoughts, you need to be tamed.

Levi watched as you sauntered into the room, his fantasies consuming his brain, much too hard for him to concentrate on the spiel he was supposed to give you on your daughter… are you aware of how much you’re teasing me? You conniving little thing… did you purposefully choose the shirt with the buttons that could barely stay closed atop your breasts? You little whore you.

“So Y/D/N… she's an incredible kid… she picks up the material gracefully…”

Must you smile like that? All sweet and innocent, the minute you hear your daughter’s name? You’re a good little mommy aren’t you? Would you like another baby girl? Would you like it to be mine?

“…I mean… she’s great in class, all of the kids love her… she gets along with everyone, respects the rules and acknowledges her mistakes… which mind you, are never big ones…”

Fluttering your eyes to the sound of my voice are we? Do you put on a docile gaze for me? You want me to discipline you… I know you do… shall I discipline you with my cock or my ruler? Your choice.

“…She’s quite the little Picasso! Loves arts and crafts time… the sweetest little girl, really! I have no constructive criticism to offer you…”

Your heart warmed as he spoke so highly of your daughter, no wonder she adored him so much.

“Overall… your daughter is wonderful in class, now I can see where she gets it from…”

Waves of heat rushed your cheeks, as you hid behind your bangs and fumbled with your hands in your lap, sitting pretty under the intense glare of the man that sang nursery rhymes with your child on weekdays from 8 am to 2 pm.

My poor little baby, have I made you bashful? Don’t cower in front of me… I’d have to take you right here and fuck that bratty pout off your face if you continue to do so…

“…Does she pick up any personality traits from your husband?” Levi asked you strategically. He knew you weren’t married, but did you have a lover? What's one more roadblock he needed to get rid of before he could finally sink his throbbing length into your tight little cunt?

“Oh! I-I, um…” you nervously ran your fingers through your hair, adjusting yourself in your seat, “I don’t have a um… I'm not… I’m not married… Y/D/N’s dad isn’t around… I raised her on my own! Glad I'm doing something right...” You laughed, and god, was your laugh music to Levi's ears, singing down from the heavens itself. Now to discover what your moans sounded like, were they something of the devil’s creation?

Levi held his gaze on you in silence, watching the uncomfortable white noise of the air conditioning affect your nerves, as you squirmed on your chair in front of him.

“Something wrong, Miss. Y/L/N?” He toyed with you, his voice laced with innocence as he asked about your obvious flustered front.

“Y-yes… I'm fine! I always get a little embarrassed when I talk about my ex… i-it’s messy and… nothing to concern you with…”

He watched your body language intently as he prodded at your submissive exterior, breaking you down little by little until you were finally within his reach.

“What's there to be embarrassed about?”

His eyes remained stern, his voice blunt, and his position in his chair unwavering as his ankle laid over his knee.

“I-I just… I'm a young mom, you know? I’m only 21 and… people already look down on you because of that… then when I tell them that Y/D/N’s father isn’t around either… they just assume that I’m a terrible guardian to my daughter…” Levi's cock hardened beneath his pants when he heard you utter your age out of your pouty lips.

You must be inexperienced darling, do you need me to teach you a few things? I pray that you'll be able to keep up, for your poor pussy’s sake…

“Well… those that tread on you for doing what’s best for you and your daughter… are often the ones that have no idea what they’re doing themselves… trust me, Miss. Y/L/N… you’re a great mother…”

You drew your lip into your mouth as your stomach floated at his words, the way he called you a mother made your head all hazy and your cunt all tingly. You wanted Levi so badly, your body ached for his instruction.

“T-thank you… Mr. Ackerman… though I feel like you could teach me a few things about my daughter, she always comes home so happy from a day in your class!”

So you want to learn, you devilish little thing. Would you like me to teach you here? Or on my desk… or maybe in the teacher’s break room with the door unlocked… your pretty eyes glazed over with fear of who would catch you on your knees taking my cock as I fuck another baby into you?

“Please… call me Levi…”

“Levi…” his name came out of your mouth in a seductive whisper, Levi's arousal growing uncontrollable as he imagined your pretty lips chanting his name with every thrust into you.

“…Would you… like to learn a few things? Miss. Y/L/N?”

To an onlooker, you two were talking about your daughter. Levi Ackerman, kindergarten teacher, was simply going to give you a few pieces of knowledge about your little girl to you,Y/N Y/L/N, a public relations assistant. There was no harm in that, correct?

But between you and Levi, you both knew he wasn’t talking about your daughter. The growing arousal beneath your constraining clothes, the smell of sex in the air something so potent only to you two… you looked at him with just as much as desire as he did to you. Teach me something… please, your thoughts prodded at your brain, gone dumb under the intensity of his dominating stare.

“Y-yes, I would like to… to learn a few things… Levi…”

Levi rose from his chair devastatingly slow, placing his clipboard on the desk beside him. Your body tensed, not moving a muscle as he circled around you, walking to the door and locking it, pulling the blinds to the tiny window down so he could ensure your privacy. You felt his presence towering behind you as you sat forward in your chair, not daring enough to look at him. His cold hands pulled your hair out from underneath your cardigan, pushing it to one shoulder and exposing the sensitive skin of your neck to him.

“Stand up,” he whispered into your ear, tapping the small of your back twice, ushering you out of the comfort of your seat.

He leaned against the back wall of the classroom, watching you stare at him like a deer in headlights as you stood before him, unsure of what to do with yourself as you swung your arms at your side. He snickered, “Tch, your hollow brain hasn’t a clue what to do right now does it?”

You winced at his dull insult, eyes rolling as you scoffed at him, “So? I- I thought you said you were going to teach me something? So teach, that’s your job isn’t it?” You spat at him daringly, knees quivering as you awaited his response.

“Clothes. Off. Now,” he spewed, smacking the wall with his long ruler, the shrill sound of the metal measuring tool hitting the painted bricks made you jolt out of your faint moment of attempted dominance.

“Do you need me to help you? Or are you competent enough to unbutton your shirt yourself?” He teased you, dumbing you down and prepping you to be his perfect submissive princess.

You stuttered on your words as your clumsy hands pawed at the buttons of your shirt, undoing them one by one as Levi watched, ruler in hand, ready to rein you in whenever you strayed off the path of his instructions. His breath hitched in his chest when he saw the way your breasts nearly spilled out of your bra, the fabric holding on for dear life at the mercy of your soft tits.

“Shit, unzip the skirt.”

“I-I, I can’t reach the zipper Levi… Y/D/N helped me zip it up today…” you whimpered frantically, anxious of what he was going to do to you if you couldn’t get it off yourself.

“Oh poor you… figure it out. In my class we don’t avoid problems, you work through them until you can get it right… Skirt. Off. Now.” Your eyes widened at the way he ignored your cries completely, growing intensely nervous as you felt tears well in your eyes.

“L-Levi, I really don’t think I can…”

“Now!” He yelled, smacking his ruler inches away from where your hand propped itself up on the desk.

“Okay!” You bleated in fear, twisting and turning your body embarrassingly until the very tips of your index and middle fingers reached the tiny zipper of your pencil skirt.

“See? Don’t ask me for my help unless you absolutely cannot do what I ask of you…” Levi clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, shaking his head disapprovingly, “And don’t make me raise my voice again… don’t want to lose my job over a slut like you.”

His breath was hot on yours as he drew in closer to your bare body, “Be a good girl and hold this for me, would you?” You felt the cool metal of his ruler touch the palms of your outstretched hands. His hands gripped at your waist and pulled you up onto one of the students’ desks, you watched as Levi pulled his tie up over his neck and unknotted it.

“Open,” his fingers tightly pressed at the sides of your jaw, forcing you to open your mouth for him. You gasped as he pushed his tie into your mouth, pulling it around your neck and knotting it at the back of your head, “Make any loud noises and I stop, keep quiet and I let you cum. Those are the rules, should be simple for your insolent brain to comprehend.”

You felt tears threaten to roll down your face as Levi knelt down in front of you, lifting one of your legs up onto his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around the other one, pinning it in place. You looked down at him a disheveled mess, mascara beginning to smear under your eyes and your hair tangled around Levi’s tie. Your eyes crossed and you let out a muffled squeal as Levi licked a stripe up your core over the fabric of your panties. “L- Le-vi!” you mumbled desperately, feeling your saliva begin to pool underneath your tongue.

His nimble fingers pushed the soaked cotton to the side, “Is this what happens when a student is bad? You get aroused for me? So undeserving,” he smacked your pussy sharply with four fingers before running them up and down your folds, smearing the slick of your arousal all over your pulsing cunt.

“I’d fail you if your body wasn’t so compliant to my demands…” Your grip on the metal ruler tightened, a deep red indentation molding itself into your fragile palms as Levi plunged two fingers inside of your weeping cunt, pushing until his knuckles hit your mound, scissoring and swirling his fingers as you contracted around him. Your eyes crossed at the sensation of him pressing up into that familiar little rigid bud just inches into your hole, he hit it over and over again as your leg fastened around his shoulder instinctively pulled him in closer to you. You convulsed on the desk above him, stomach zealously panting up and down as you felt an unfamiliar arousal growing inside of you.

“Look at you, how can you not be ashamed of yourself? Letting your daughter’s kindergarten teacher whore you out in a locked classroom... “ He whispered against your cunt, moving his other hand to your clit, drawing vigorous circles into it as his fingers worked inside of you, not letting up on the spot that made your hips thrust into his hands, “...Such a desperate slut, it's sad… you know?” Levi asked you so casually, he was calm, cool, and collected, sharing an honest conversation with your upset cunt, ignoring you while you wailed above him like a baby.

“O-oh… oh my god… Le-vi… I’m cu-mming!” you hiccuped through your gagged mouth, words coming out wet as you pathetically tried to slurp up the spit that was dripping out of your mouth, a result of your lips being forcefully pried open for too long.

“What was that?” He asked your cunt this time, not you, never you, a student so desperate to please him and gain his approval would never receive his attention.

The unfamiliar feeling inside of you reached its boiling point, the kettle that brewed inside of you ready to pop. “Le-Levi!” You half-heartedly screamed through the silk fabric of his tie. Your thighs shook violently in his grasp as you felt yourself squirt, your liquids staining the fabric of Levi’s perfectly tailored baby blue button up. Your teary eyes looked down at his disapproving glare as he wiped his eyes with disgust.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve ruined my shirt, you filthy thing…” He pulled his fingers from inside of you and turned you around on the desk, grabbing your neck and pushing your hot cheeks down onto the cold maple top.

“Give me the fucking ruler…”

“N-no!” You begged, for you knew what would happen if you surrendered it to him, “Please!”

He brought you back up into his chest, choking you as he seethed into your ear, “If you don’t follow my instructions, I have no choice but to punish you.” Levi yanked the ruler out of your hands, examining the marks it left in your hands from you grasping it so hard.

“W-wait, please Levi… Please, I’ll be good! I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I’ll be good, please, please, please no!” You babbled mindlessly as you felt the cold whip of the ruler smack in your ass, you screamed as Levi pushed you back down into the desk. “One time for getting me dirty…” Lines of mascara stained your face as he brought the ruler down to your skin for a second time, “...and one for denying my orders.” You cried under his hold, thrashing like a fish out of water as he massaged the inflictions into your soft skin. He leaned down to mock you, “Are you gonna be good now? Hm, gonna be a good little mommy for me?” He swung your limp body up into his chest and carried you over to his desk, the strikes on your ass feeling hot against the cold wood. Levi pulls the gag out of your mouth, smirking as he watches you gasp for air, scooping saliva back into your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Y-yes Levi, I swear I’ll be good… I’ll be good for you, please,” you begged him.

“Please what?” His eyes searched for an answer in yours, but you were too deep into a fucked-out haze to even look at him. “Please what?” He growled, shaking your face with his hand, “Snap out of it and tell me what you want.”

“I- I want you to fuck me Levi.”

He landed a harsh blow to your cheek, “You what?”

“I said… I want you to fuck me Levi...” you moaned delirious and out of breath.

He holds your neck in his hands as your head bobbed around, nearly unconscious from how much he’s thrown you around, “You want me to fuck another baby into you? Give Y/D/N a little sister?” You lazily nodded your head, a devious grin forming on your face as you pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth, beginning to submit to the role of Levi’s fucked-dumb subordinate. He smacked you a second time, eyes filled with lust as he watched your face jerk to the side, hair falling over your rebellious glare, “Then wake the fuck up and watch me undress.”

So you did, your body weakened from the orgasm he gave you minutes ago, you kept your tired eyes on Levi, feeling your arousal build inside you again as he unbuttoned his shirt, his eyes never leaving yours. Every time you seemed to doze off, Levi would bring a hand to your cheek, and utter a demanding “Look at me.” Your eyes lusted after the painfully big erection that hid just underneath his briefs, your cheeks sore from his hand hitting your face relentlessly.

“Your eyes. On me. Now,” Levi demanded, sitting you down into his office chair.

He inched in close to your face as he leaned on top of you, his hands bracing themselves on the arms of the chair, “Don’t touch me. Don’t Beg. Just watch.”

Levi peeled his briefs down, your cunt leaking at the sight of his erection slapping up onto his abdomen. Levi brought his groin closer to your face, the cool lighting of the classroom reflecting off the pre-cum that leaked out of his tip. “Spit on it,” Levi ordered as he pushed your head to his cock. You looked up at him with innocent eyes as you let a glob of saliva trail out of your lips onto his length, “That’s it… what a good mama you’re being for me.”

His hands began to stroke his length at a steady pace as he backed up into the chalkboard, putting himself on display for you. “Don’t touch yourself,” he snapped, catching you trail a sneaky hand down to your needy heat. You nodded slowly as you watched Levi’s stomach contract, abs shivering at the touch of his hand, “Fuck…” he drawled, opening his eyes to get himself off to the sight of you aroused before him, a good mother waiting to be bred by his aching cock.

“Take your bra off,” he whined, hand still working at his throbbing length. His eyes went dark as you freed your nipples from the tight fabric, breasts bouncing as you pulled your bra around your torso. “Lean back,” he walked up to you in his swivel chair and placed a knee between your thighs, right up against your aching cunt. “Hold your tits for me,” he demanded, watching your shaky hands grasp your heavy breasts in either hand. Levi leaned down and placed his cock in between them, putting his hands over yours and squeezing your breasts tight around his throbbing erection, “Look at me… hold them right there.” Your head lolled back as Levi began to move his cock in and out of your breasts, panting with every thrust up into the soft tissue of your tits.

“Fuck… Levi!” You cried, beginning to move your cunt against his knee. “You like this don’t you, you filthy thing? You like milking my cock with your tits like a good mother would, huh?” Levi smirked down at the look of pleasure on your face, euphoric as you moved your chest up and down against him.

Your eyes crossed at his words, thrusting your breasts around him harder, “Y-yes Levi… fuck, gimme your cum baby… fucking cum on my tits Levi!” Levi’s moans were guttural, crying out with every fuck up into you, you could tell he was close from the way his hands desperately grabbed at your hair, trying to find some balance.

“Fucking cum for me Levi… cum for mommy… give it to me, fuck!” Levi smirked as you played into his little role he’s created for you, the sound of you begging for his cum on your chest sent him over the edge, white hot ropes lacing across your breasts and in your mouth as you stuck your tongue out desperately for him.

“Shit baby… fuck, get up.”

Levi pulled your body up out of his chair and leaned you over onto his desk, aching to feel you wrapped around him. He pulled your panties down to your ankles and ran his cock up and down between your ass, teasing the entrance to your cunt every so often.

“Tell me what you want,” he teased, sinking his heavy chest onto your back as he wrapped an arm around your neck, the weight of his body on top of yours squishing you flat against the table, “Beg for it you fucking cumslut.”

“Oh! Fuck Levi… please, just fuck me okay?” You gasped for air.

“Tch, you can do better,” he coaxed you into submission while his hand squeezed around your neck, the light asphyxiation making your eyes roll back and your tongue loll out of your mouth.

“Shit… god, okay okay! Fuck me Levi… fuck me so good that I walk out of here with another baby, I wanna feel you inside of me, leaking out of my worthless cunt, I wanna be your-

“Enough… don’t embarrass yourself,” he smacks your cheek lightly, before swiveling your head around so your mess of a face can meet his, for the first time tonight it felt like Levi would kiss you. His pressed his lips into yours and spoke, “‘M gonna fuck you so damn good… gonna put a baby right… here.” he growled as he prodded at the fat of your stomach. You two grinded your hips synchronously, swirling around in tiny circles together as Levi pressed his body into yours and rubbed his face into the side of your neck.

“Ngh.. Levi, now... please…”  You reached behind you to palm at his cock before his gentle facade snapped and twisted your arm into your back, “You don’t touch me,” he snarled, lining the tip of his cock up to your folds, playfully drawing shapes into your pussy. Levi inched himself inside of you, watching the way your body shuddered, begging him to move faster. Your face contorted in pain at the positioning of your arm before Levi grabbed hold of it and used it as anchor to start fucking into you. He started slow, savoring every second of you clenching around him, feeling your gummy walls contract and twist at the feel of his cock.

“Fuck… Levi, god…” Your body shuddered at the feeling of him inside of you, he snickered into your back as his thrusts grew faster, “Sweet of you to call me by both names but… I- prefer Levi…” he mocked you as he felt you tighten around him.

The classroom filled with a chorus of your moans, skin slapping skin, your eyebrows furrowed as it sunk in... you were being fucked by your daughter’s kindergarten teacher. A poster that read, “Reach for the stars Class 3H!” taunted you as you crossed your eyes in pleasure at the feeling that Mr. Ackerman was giving you. The mug that read “World’s best teacher,” wiggled on top of his desk as he thrusted into you, the sound of the ceramic jolting around on the hard surface echoed in your ears.

“Fuck… feels so good…” your voice strained, trying to take your mind off the fact that just feet away from you lay the “storytime” carpet your daughter spoke about, with a little city on it, tiny roads and cars decorating the coarse fabric.

“What? You finally fucking realize how dirty you are?” Levi said with a twisted sense of amusement as he watched your watery eyes scan the classroom.

“M’hm Levi… fuck, I’m such a dirty baby- oh!” Levi’s thrusts turned rigorous, the dirty words that slipped out of your mouth flipping a switch inside of him that turned him ravenous.

He grabs your neck and arches your back into his chest while pinning both of your arms behind you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Levi, Levi, please baby…  fu-ck!”  You rambled, barely intelligible, a fucked-out mess as Levi sped up inside of you, searching for his high.

Levi pinned you down as you squealed and thrashed, pushing you into his desk while he fucks his cum into you, “Fuck mommy, t-take it, take my fucking cum, fu-ck, shit!” He grunted, snapping his hips into yours, ramming into you repeatedly, waiting a few seconds inside of your plush cunt after every thrust, swirling his cock against your cervix to make sure every last drop of cum stayed inside of you.

“Shit… yes Levi… gimme a fucking baby… Yeah? You’re gonna gimme another fucking baby? Oh god!” You smack your palm against the table over and over, drawing blood as you bit into your lips to control the guttural orgasm you were having, whining like a little baby.

“Breathe,” Levi ushered, slapping a hand across your ass to wake you out of your euphoric trance. You gasped for air as you whimpered underneath him, “Oh my god… Mr. Ackerman… that was…”

“Tch, don’t call me that unless you want me to take you again against the window,” Levi was moving slowly in and out of you, coaxing you down from your intense high. “Such a good mommy for me,” he whispered as he massaged his hands into your asscheeks, pulling and kneading the soft skin while he fucked into you slowly. He ran his fingers through your hair before grasping it to pull you up from the desk.

“Dress yourself,” he mumbled, as he began to pull his briefs and trousers up his legs. You sat on his desk in a post- orgasmic haze, unable to process anything other than the fact that you wanted Levi’s cock inside of you again.

“Are you gonna spank me with the ruler if I don’t?” You teased, Levi groaned as he watched you spread your legs out on his desk to watch his cum slip out of your pussy, you pushed it out in waves of white.

“Shit… just fucking get dressed,” he was flustered watching you sit pretty on his desk, seeing what you looked like after he had finished with you, red marks all over your body and lashes from his ruler embedded into your skin.

“How many mothers have you fucked Mr. Ackerman?” you asked boldly as you pulled on your bra. He darted his gaze to you and squinted his eyes, silently telling you to back off.

“That’s enough Miss. Y/L/N,” he responded sternly, switching back into his teacher persona gracefully. You scoffed, so that’s the way it is then.

He walked you out of his classroom with his hand on the small of your back, back to old Mr. Ackerman, giving you a watchful glare as the hall monitor walked your daughter down the empty hallway to the classroom. Levi pinched your side as he whispered under his breath, “We never speak of this Miss. Y/L/N— Hi Y/D/N! Had fun at the gym?” He asked your daughter sweetly, changing his tone of voice as he ruffled her hair.

“Yeah Mr. Levi! Did you tell mommy that I’m good?”

Levi’s eyes bunched up as he smiled down at your little girl, he leaned down to her eye level and tapped a finger on her nose, making her squeal.

“Yes, I told mo- Miss. Y/L/N all about how good you are! Okay?” He quirked his head to the right as he beamed at your daughter.

“See mommy! I’m good!” She exuded as she wrapped her arms around Levi’s neck, tangling her fingers in his raven hair. You couldn’t lie, your heart flipped at the way he hugged her back, lifting her up and swinging her around.

“I’m proud of you baby, Mr. Levi said so many good things about you!” You gushed to your daughter, taking her hand in yours.

“I'll see you in class tomorrow, okay Y/D/N?” Levi said his goodbyes to you, watching you pull your daughter down the hallway. You tried awfully hard to put yourself back together, but Levi smirked at the way your hair stood up one side, or how your skirt rode up your ass, the raps from his ruler still scarred your palms.

“M’hm! Buh-bye Mr. Levi!” your daughter looked behind you and waved her hand back to her teacher, skipping down the hallway. You shuffled to get your car keys out of your bag, and watched the letters on the doors dwindle down as you made it to the exit at the end of the hallway.

“Nice meeting you, Miss. Y/L/N…”

You turned around, looking at him one last time, both of you giving each other knowing glares as two devious smirks spread across your cheeks.

“Yes… nice meeting your Mr. Acker- Levi.”

© 2021 sxkunas - do not repost my work to any other platforms

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

WAIT MISS DREA I THINK THIS IS THE CUTEST THUNG IVE READ BECAUSE I CAN VIVIDLY IMAGINE JUST HIM STANDING THERE WITH THE MOST ENDEARED SMILE AND HIS DIMPLES ARE OUT AND HES GOT GAINT CREASES BY HIS EYES AND HES JUST HAPPY SHES SO COMFORTABLE STOOOP THIS IS SO CUTE

EXACTLYYYYY 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

And then he pushes off the door, goes over to where she’d tossed her clothes on his loveseat, and starts stripping down with the idea to switch clothes in order to look just like her. “Quid pro quo. Plus, my ass is gonna look great in these shorts.”

After he’s done (his ass does look great in those pants, though her off-the-shoulder top is fighting for its life against his broad frame), he reaches forward and intertwines their fingers, the rings on his hands clinking and snagging on the plethora she’d slipped onto her own, which she’d done for the sake of authenticity and accuracy. He pulls her into his body as they both giggle like lovesick morons, bumping foreheads and rubbing their noses together tenderly as he flutters his lashes down at her dramatically, pitching his voice up to imitate hers the way she had done to him. “‘Harry, my stomach hurts. Harry, can you give me back scratches? Harry, can you make me mac and cheese the way you do it? With the fancy sauce? Harry, the blender isn’t working! Yes, it’s plugged in, I checked— oh, wait…never mind.’”

Y/N rolls her eyes at his jesting digs, thunking her forehead against his harder as revenge. “I don’t sound like that.”

“Oh, you absolutely fucking do.” He scoffs, grinning down at her teasingly as he snakes his arms around the dip of her back, tugging her upwards until she’s on her tiptoes, her chest flushed unbelievably close to his own. He lowers his tone suggestively, shrugging his brows coyly. “You know what else you sound like?”

She deciphers his intentions immediately. “Don’t.”

Harry contorts his face into an expression of fabricated pleasure, throwing his head back theatrically as he releases an array of obscene moans and whimpers, mocking her dialogue during sex. “‘Yeah, baby, right there, that’s perfect! God, Harry, you feel so fucking good! Want it deeper, Daddy, please!’”

Y/N tries to shove him away with a petty glare, but he simply locks his arms with more strength, clinging to her figure stubbornly as he buries his nose against the dip of her neck, exactly where he knows she’s extremely ticklish. He continues his brigade, upping the volume and flamboyance of his little act. “‘You’re so fucking big, H— I love the way you fill me up! I want to feel you drip down my thighs so bad! I want you to spank me, Daddy! Want you to make me be a good girl!’”

“Stoppppp.” Y/N whines in embarrassment, heat bursting across her face as she squirms in his grasp, pained giggles escaping her throat as she struggles below his prodding caresses. “It’s not funny!”

Harry ignores her pleas, proceeding to blow raspberries into her skin just to hear her squeal in desperation, an evil smirk carving across his dimples as he snickers at her reaction. “‘I want you to give it to me hard, baby! I want you to fuck me into the bed until I can’t take it anymore!’”

“Harry—”

“Oh, but wait— can’t forget the fan favorite: ‘I’m your filthy little whore, Daddy! I love it when you use me! Love being your dirty slut!’”

Y/N pants her words out between uncontrollable shrieks and baited breaths, wriggling around in his embrace as he sputters into smug laughter against her sensitive throat. “I’m gonna— I’m— stop!— I’m gonna get you back for this! You better fuck off or I swear I’ll— cut it out!— or I won’t touch you for a week! I’m being— no!— I’m being s-serious!”

“Yeah, that smile on your face is just so serious.”

“Eat shit.”

“Y’know what? I think I should check if you’re still ticklish on your tummy. For research purposes.”

“Harry, no!”

“Harry, yes!”

And after he finally decides he’s tormented her enough, they take a picture in their outfits, even going as far as to pose like one another. Harry crouches down a bit in order to appear shorter, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s torso and resting his temple just below her collarbone, smiling up at the camera brightly. Y/N, who’s in charge of snapping the shot, purposefully molds her features with a Blue Steel theme, trying to appear as effortlessly cool and attractive as Harry always does. They both make the photo their lock screen, cropping it and using each other’s halves so that when they hold up their phones side by side, the picture becomes complete.

[the-firebird69]

We have a lot of time on our hands and mac daddy is saying he's not AI boy and we say he's a different type and we get that and he can do that not many can.

-also in the news our son is being bothered 24/7 we need more teams being threatened I need some people to pay attention his guys are panicking he's being threatened by everybody that's here it's not right we need solutions he says there's no one to counterbalance though and people don't want to come in here because they start swarming on people to do so we have to infiltrate using whatever methods are available to us and we shall and we're going to have a meeting because it's far too dangerous what BG was saying was you're going to buy my bike and stuff like that and her son says I have 400 miles left and I need to use them this is one of I know it says I'm waiting to get some money and it was oh when you don't grow on trees and I'm poor and you need to stop pushing something that can't move. No he got mad and said I don't care if he has anybody said I care if I have money and I'm not going to buy it until I get money or the battery goes and if the battery goes because of you you're going to get very dead for real regardless of any reaction so he got mad again I said we don't care if you're mad and shut your face. And I'll say this he's steaming seriously we're going to come in there and have one of my Giants grab you and spank you into your ass as mush. You shut up and said I thank you for the motivation good we're going to shoot the s*** out of you don't make me buy it if I don't have any money if c********* I don't care about your f****** stupid math you're an idiot now too so it's done yammering and then he says he starts yelling and he says I don't have any time for this and he says it's not done right it won't get done at all we don't need your bike you're an idiot oh yeah it's a mess and tons of people are saying it other bikes out there. He decided to wait and see what they're up to I can put other bikes out there and he has to have it anyways the point is they wanted to stick your neck out for you and it starts screaming I don't care about that either and suddenly he got mad and said what are you waiting for I said they do this every time waiting for them to stick a bunch of stuff out there waiting for it to be forced cuz I don't have the money right now if I have the money later that's great if I don't have to do something I might get a new battery or I might get a new bike I don't know what the bike I want it would last bicycles don't really last that long and he started smiling you're actually right so he felt a little better and saw what they're saying and they're idiots they didn't get mad at himself I couldn't see it cuz everybody's a little bit desperate but these people are stupid they shouldn't be doing that they should be doing it that way and they shouldn't be saying he's the only one but it's the other people with mid drive and it will work out for him cuz I know what you are doing. That's another news item

-there's also all these manufacturing companies they're making Ferrari kits Bradley GT kits Porsche kits and we're going to start up 1 hours and their kids and we'll take over there companies as we come too busy to do anything and we're going to do it fast the mini company it's going to be a bit more difficult let's gigantic they have a plan and we will enact it eventually right now they're making congrats as a bunch 200 trillion by this Friday and we will have 100 trillion by this Friday and regular cars we have to make a ton of them and we're going to start shortly but have them assemble and it's going to be a hell of a day I don't know what to do it's simpler

-we had other news we came up with an idea to do a go-kart and really it will be a go-kart motor and a go-kart frame but the suspension and the drive and tires rims no I think it's going to be Dot acceptable with an additional kit the original is about $35 and the DOT add is about $85 because it includes some hardware you need like the exhaust which you'll never find it's such a pain. It sounds cool and it goes extremely fast we expect about 385 miles per hour and that's right it's actually a go-kart frame store bought and you can make it street legal with our kit but we're going to start out with just the go-kart there are other things happening like the Tumblr now they want it bad and they want the four wheeler version and the go-kart version and they want it now and we are going to start to produce it. They're making about 400 million today and tomorrow they'll make about 1 billion Friday they're going to have $3 billion up by Monday we anticipate about 100 billion and by next Friday possibly a trillion or two and that's the four-wheel 4x4 version the Polaris type it's because of these polarises are sitting there is about 4 trillion chassis in the USA alone and they wanted with us on it and they're calling on the kit but it's not going to be covered at all until they get up there one or two trillions not bad but we need to have more for this and it will try and tie our Sunday as a threat and if not then the foreigners will and more so.

-there's some other things happening. And they are pretty big. Our sun is going to run out of his Prilosec out of his lipoma but really in March 2024 roughly that's quite a ways away it's about four and a half months and that's that's a long time they are seeking to bother him about it and so far it doesn't matter I didn't want to keep it poor also the stuff. I can only say that we are getting ready for it and for real and it's going to be a big event. Also he might start growing earlier possibly within a month even depending on oxygen levels

-a huge war is taking place now it is between the morlock and the max and fortress and then Bullock and some of us against warlock everybody against clones and the clones against marlach and that's how it's going and they think they're cool and it's disgusting they're getting slaughtered. And there's other things happening we're finding that sun is itchy as hell can't seem to stop it and he is having problems with fleas it's all over the world and a pandemic and we have to start spraying and Dan was out spraying with auntie plant stuff and his jerk so we find him heavily you need to start the spring program and we need ours to get with it we have people who are Captain it we're telling you it is time to do a major program and enacted we want the bugs out of here zigzag has a bead on all of them and everywhere that we want to get them out of and we have to have a major meeting today and do it those things are deadly and we don't want an outbreak and we don't want them running around like these people want and they're sincerely crazy and think that they will release it to control it so please if you would get that going set up a meeting for tonight and will be there and I do thank you and we mean it

-transitive tonight if not tomorrow so they're going to do that we also have some other news

-there are some people here in the neighborhood that have more or less expired and they don't tell anybody but they're grossly disgusting or you stupid we're going to have to go ahead and get them out of here and I do mean it they refuse to leave they refuse to do the right thing they are not good people they are not helping anybody especially our son and we don't like them we have a list we need action on it now we need team captains to grow their teams

-we have huge projects coming online and we have to express it properly to our people and we have to tell them we cannot lose this technology we are beginning the process it is extremely dangerous and the magnitude is 80 to 90% larger than it was this year and we have to tell them now I mean here and out loud and I am writing it down and Hera is going to send it in and it's good it sounds perfect

We're going to publish now because of this last paragraph

Thor Freya

Olympus

Needed this very badly

Zigzag

It is tiring

Hera Zeus