#every time. and i tested it too. i tried driving halfway with it on and halfway off and i could turn corners and more importantly STOP safer

[incognit0slut]

Room for three

Nobody knows about the contract you signed to be your boss’s sub until Spencer finds the document. Aaron proposes a deal in exchange for his silence.

Category: Smut (18+) Word count: 4.8k Content: threesome, sub/dom dynamic, female and male oral, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, creampie(s) a/n: kinktober in may because it’s @lavenderspence birthday who helped me brainstorm this fic months ago but hey it’s never too late so here is the long awaited fic that i’m dedicating to the birthday girl. ily<333

The wordless creed of submission was a scripture you could never decipher.

That is, until you met Aaron Hotchner. Five years of sterile professionalism, save for one fateful night with too high adrenaline and a sex drive you hadn’t even known you possessed. He’s disturbingly good at coaxing it too (pinning you against his office door, bending you over his desk, binding your wrists to the headrest in the back of his car), and soon a new normal of three sexy times a week for two breathless months doesn’t seem quite enough.

Surprising, for someone too independent to ever trust a man so completely. But twenty-four-seven isn’t ideal, was what he’d pointed out with a wry little smile when he realized there was no sign of jest as you offered — no, begged — to be cinched to his hip every single day. Tempting, but some ground rules still had to be laid down.

That’s when the negotiation starts.

Night after night you find yourselves talking, and suddenly your vocabulary is filled with terms you’d never imagined discussing outside bureau protocol. Hard limits and soft boundaries. Carefully planned visits. He even tested a few daring suggestions you’d never imagined yourself fantasizing about, intriguing you as much as they embarrass you.

Although mortification isn’t the problem. You’re a born profiler with an inconvenient instinct to study every new stimulus; curiosity is your ruin, so to speak. If shame were meant to deter you, it should’ve chosen a less enticing disguise.

Granted, you’re not exactly surprised when you slip into Aaron’s motel room and spot another presence waiting. You find Spencer like that, standing warily at the foot of the bed, looking strangely out of place despite the fact your knees had brushed in the SUV only an hour ago.

But your heart does a little somersault. A silly patter that spreads through your chest with the dizzy certainty that an idea you’ve only read in ink is about to be written in flesh.

The clause was tucked near the end of the contract — “the introduction of a third participant at the discretion of the primary.” You’d half-skimmed those last few pages, disbelief blurring the words when you couldn’t quite fathom that your fantasies had been printed and bound like actual paperwork.

It’s one thing to discuss it verbally, another thing entirely to see it embodied in your hands like an actual scripture.

“I just want you to feel safe,” Aaron had said, which struck you as almost redundant. You already felt safe without having these stipulations spelled out in twelve-point font. Still, you picked up the pen, humored his need for formalities, and wrote your name in deliberate strokes.

And with Spencer hovering a few unsure steps from the bed tonight, that small flourish of ink seems to glow on the page in your memory.

“You’re late,” Aaron greets from the other side of the room, and closes the space between you in three easy strides.

“Emily cornered me in the hallway," you say, meeting him halfway for a kiss before nudging back, a wry smile on your lips. “So I’m guessing he knows about us?”

His gaze flicks to Spencer before settling back on you. “He found our contract.”

Your brows curve into a frown. “You mean… he found the thing just lying around?”

“Not exactly." He gives a curt shake of his head. "It was on my desk. Didn’t think he’d come in without knocking.”

"Aaron."

“It was an oversight," he tries to defend himself. He spares you the detail that Spencer apparently read enough to memorize every clause and condition. You’re already eyeing him dubiously.

“And why is he here now?”

The same logic that led Aaron to keeping him here.

“For his silence.”

"You’re blackmailing him?”

The corner of his mouth tilts up. “Of course not. I’d call it leveraging a situation for mutual understanding."

“That is the prettiest way I’ve ever heard someone describe blackmail.”

A soft shuffle of shoes answers you from behind.

“It isn’t blackmail,” Spencer interjects. “He didn’t force me into anything. I wanted to understand what was going on and—” He falters at the subtle, expectant tilt of Aaron’s head, then clears his throat and finishes, “—and now I do.”

Aaron’s hand finds its way to your waist. “Are you okay with this?”

Are you?

You don’t answer immediately. It isn’t indecision that holds your tongue to the roof of your mouth, rather the slow crawl of anticipation that coils low in your belly. Skittering around your hips.

Oddly enough, the prospect doesn’t rattle you the way it once did when you first traced those lines in the contract. You’d just never thought the day would actually arrive, and certainly not today, with Spencer, of all people.

You can almost hear the flutter of his pulse from here, see the quiet calculations ticking behind lowered lashes as he tries to stand perfectly still. He’s cinched into his cardigan that's smoothed flat over narrow shoulders, and you’d be lying if you claimed you’d never wondered what hid beneath all those layers of neatly pressed wool.

Pure curiosity, you reason. Curiosity fed by the sparks you’ve caught in his eyes when he thought you weren’t looking. A sweep of hazel that dips down your neckline, or by the restless twitch of his fingers whenever your perfume drifts too close. And you’ve idly speculated, maybe more than once, whether those fidgeting hands would feel rough on your skin or as soft as the flush rising in his cheeks.

You let the quiet stretch for one more heartbeat, watching his gaze snag on the top of your blouse before darting back up.

Heat coils languid and sweet inside you.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I’m okay. I think.”

“Need you to be sure, sweetheart.”

“I’m okay,” you repeat, trying to smooth out your voice. Maybe saying it once more will solidify your confidence. “I’m really okay.”

Aaron’s palm tightens at your waist. “Color?”

It takes you a while to understand what he means, but when you do, you feel the answer rise with the next breath you take.

“Green.”

“Good, if at any point it changes, you tell me.”

You give him a slight dip of your head.

"Reid, come here."

Spencer obeys before he seems aware he’s moving. One cautious step, then another, until you can feel the anxious energy rippling off him. He’s close enough now that the crease of your knee nearly grazes the front of his slacks. Close enough you can catch the soft quiver in his limbs.

Your own chest tightens at the sheer proximity, but whatever butterflies flit through you aren’t half as fierce as the ones etched across his tense shoulders and downturned gaze.

“Spence, it’s okay, you can touch me," you offer.

He curls his fingers into fists, chords of tendon shifting under skin gone too pale.

He’s overthinking, of course. Mental gears grinding loud enough to drown out his own pulse. It’s his nature to second-guess and dissect unfamiliar situations from every angle. He did it when he first spotted the contract on Aaron’s desk, when Aaron quietly invited him here, even when he agreed to come of his own free will. But standing in front of you knots those gears tighter.

Enumerate risks, assign probability, choose the safest option.

The safest option, though, he realizes, is the most dangerous one.

But the real danger isn’t the touch itself. It’s how a single brush of fingertips will shatter his neatly ordered rules.

Consent redraws the margins while he continues to study. You give him an expectant look, Aaron seals it with a nod, and suddenly the universe has shrunk to three conspirators orbiting a single point of contact.

So he closes the last inch between you. Pulls in the same measured breath he’s perfected on the firing line. One, two, three — on four his fingertips drift forward, brushing the sleeve of your blouse. The cotton vibrates under his knuckles, yet even through the fabric he can feel the pliant warmth of your skin. He coaxes higher along your arm, sliding past the cuff and onto the bare flesh of your shoulder.

You’re warmer here, silken, and the softness doubles when his hand cups the delicate column of your neck, thumb resting in the hollow below your jaw. Softest of all, though, is the sight that meets him when he finally lifts his gaze. Plump, glossy petals of dewy lips.

Gone is every ounce of hesitation.

He steel himself for the question hanging on his lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

Useless, of course, when you’re already leaning in.

So he does, carrying the bite of burnt motel coffee and a trace of whatever dessert he demolished tonight. You also catch the tang of his nerves on your tongue. He’s a jumble of sensations — confused, curious, ravenous, and that ripple of hunger makes itself known as he nudges his cock against your hip. The pressure loosens your knees, and just as you begin to sync with the eager pull of his mouth, another hard pressure claims the space behind.

Aaron’s obvious bulge slots perfectly between your ass, as well as the way his mouth latches along the spot where your pulse flutters the most.

It’s nearly impossible to keep your heartbeat steady when attention comes in perfect pairs.

Two mouths tracing heat.

Two cocks hemming you in.

Two sets of hands shaping your body — a pair cupping your breasts firmly, another holding your hip while the last hand dips over the fabric covering your mound.

It takes a drowsy, blinking inhale before you realize it’s Spencer coaxing pleasure through the damp cloth. A new type of pleasure that comes with new territory as his fingers slide in patient circles, translating curiosity into confidence with every slow stroke. It’s a novel kind of surrender that eclipses the rules you thought you understood with Aaron alone.

This is a submission refracted through two different types of needs. Circumstances might look like you’re completely helpless with two men manhandling you, but somehow you've never felt more powerful.

And that power consumes you, bleeding warmth into your skin until it feels like you’re burning from the inside out. Flooding every nerve, soaking through your pores until even the hum of the air conditioner feels weak against the sweat beading at the small of your back.

Aaron feels the tremor beneath his palm.

“Too hot?”

You manage a weak nod. “Mhm.”

He quickly moves to remedy it. He won’t have his sweet girl suffering for even a second longer than necessary. His fingers skim down your blouse, carefully slipping buttons through holes before Spencer’s eager hands join him — unhooking, unbuttoning, and sliding the rest of your clothes off until there’s nothing left between you and the open air.

Your lungs finally fill without the last scrap of fabric, though each inhale stays shallow. The stark contrast between your bare skin and the layers of their tailored shirts and pressed slacks only sharpens the ache gathering low in your belly. You’re so wound up that a slow, insistent throb of liquid seeps between the snug folds of your cunt.

Aaron is quick to notice, too. He’s already attuned to your body by now, the way gooseflesh ripples up your thighs the moment you try to squeeze them together for relief. Before you’ve even fully registered it, his arm loops around your waist, guiding you a step back toward the bed.

In one smooth pull you’re lifted, settled astride his lap. “I think we should show him how wet you are.”

You lean back, heart hammering in your chest.

In another life, shame would color your cheeks, but in this one, you’re too keenly aware of your own arousal as his hands hook under your thighs, spreading your legs apart.

Spencer falls to his knees. And wets his bottom lip, eyes fixed on the sheen glistening between your legs — pretty and glossy without a single touch from either of them, and he wonders how much more of a mess he can make of you. That thought sends two fingers pressing against the swollen outer lips, gently stretching them for a better view of your anatomy as he breathes in your musky scent.

God, you smell delicious.

He bets you taste just as good too.

As if drown to a magnetic pull, he leans in and lets the tip of his tongue flick against the tender spot of your clit.

You’re not sure if the gasp that escapes your lips is louder than the rush of blood pounding in your ears. Spencer hears it, feels it, and takes it as permission. He lingers, gently at first, tracing delicate circles that coax your clit into a throbbing fullness until the once shy nub swells under the next pass of his tongue.

The hammering behind your eyes barrels down your veins, skimming collarbones and ribcage, rushing through your gut before pooling right where his mouth is working. Broad laps that drag from your slick entrance to the tip. Sucks a plush fold of your labia into his mouth, testing delicate skin with gentle tugs.

Your next exhale comes out as a moan, and Aaron marvels at the sound. “Feels good?”

Good is an anemic word — barely a quarter of what’s sluicing through you when Spencer curls his tongue inside your tight walls. Pleasure radiates in hot pulses, and language dissolves on your tongue as your head lolls helplessly against Aaron’s shoulder.

He tries to press you again. Hooks a finger beneath your jaw to tilt your chin up, leaving a ghost of space that tempts you to close your mouth around him. He pulls away when you lean in.

“Good, sweetheart?”

He clearly wants an answer. So you give him one — stretch your voice into the space he’s carved for you.

“S’good.”

“Yeah?”

Your hips stutter into Spencer’s mouth. “Yes—yes. Good.”

You're finally rewarded with a kiss and a groan between your legs.

Shame really has nothing on you. Your body is on fire, and the only thing that matters is the taste of his lips plastered against yours while Spencer’s mouth devours you in greedy lungfuls. Drags his tongue slow and heavy across the entire span of your cunt as the faint rasp of his jaw scrapes against your inner thighs.

You’re hardly surprised by how your orgasm coils fast. Starts as a scatter of static in your toes, slithers up your calves and welds the muscles of your thighs as Spencer’s mouth seals around you, lips locking, tongue pressing. Instinct has your legs snapping shut around his head, but a low disapproving sound from Aaron vibrates on your mouth, cuts through your blinding haze.

“No, no—spread them open,” he tuts, prying your legs wider. “Let him take care of you.”

You can only whine in response.

Your thoughts knot and unravel in the same breath, slipping through your grasp the moment they begin to form. Words dissolve. Time warps. You're reduced to pure reaction — tiny, involuntary gasps that stutter out between parted lips. You can't keep still. Can't breathe deep. Every inhale shudders. Heat blooms at the base of your skull, racing along nerve paths until your toes curl in suspended air.

Then it hits again. But his mouth doesn’t stop the mess he's made of you. Slick glistens down his chin, streaking into the shallow hollows of his cheeks, pooling in the groove where his jaw meets his neck. He tilts his head, adjusting just enough to keep you pinned with legs spread wide and twitching as he slurps you up with intense hunger.

A keening cry rips free before you can swallow it.

Aaron notices it. Sees the way you nearly go cross-eyed towards the ceiling, jaw unhinged and mouth dangling loose.

“Reid,” he warns.

Spencer barely blinks.

“Reid.”

His voice continues to fall on deaf ears.

“Reid.”

It isn’t until Aaron firmly pushes his head away that Spencer finally snaps out of it. His eyes dart up to meet Aaron’s, then to you, chest rising and falling as though suddenly realizing the state he’s left you in.

“Oh—I’m sorry,” there’s an edge of guilt in his voice. His gaze drops back to your swollen clit, overly sensitive from his relentless attention, and moves in to press a soft, almost apologetic kiss to it. “I’m sorry.”

Your hips jerk at the contact.

Aaron rests a hand over your thigh, “Let’s give her a minute.”

You finally manage to clamp your mouth shut.

It does seem wise to wait until your heartbeat evens out, let your pulse crawl back down from its wild pitch. Yet the space they leave empty aches just as sharply. All you can feel is emptiness and the gnawing urge to be filled, so you shift in Aaron’s lap, sliding forward until your hips brush the sharply pressed crease of his slacks.

“I’m fine,” you blurt out. “I can keep going.”

Aaron’s palm spans your stomach. “I don’t want to push you too far.”

“You're not,” you insist, and with desperation digging its claws way too deep in your chest, you add, “Please?"

His lips curl into a knowing smile. You're practically bleating, and he’s absolutely smitten. "You're begging already."

You are, and you'd gladly do it again. Say it sweeter, say it filthier. You’ve learned to like begging, learned how easy it sits on your tongue when it earns you that look.

"Need you, Aaron."

He looks absolutely pleased.

“You need me?" His gaze slips towards Spencer, still crouched between your thighs, wetting his lips. "Or do you need him?”

Your mouth opens before you can think—

“Need you both.”

Which, after years spent of working alongside them, is something you never expected to admit.

But the honesty on your tongue tastes absolutely sweet.

Everything then unravels in a blur of impatient hands. Buttons pop, zippers slip, fabric rustles to the floor in a blur of motion you’ll replay later but can’t quite track now. Your own senses tunnel to the snap of Spencer’s belt, the soft thud of Aaron’s shoes hitting carpet, the sigh of crisp cotton sliding from skin.

By the time the last scrap of fabric has hit the floor, you’re stretched on your side atop the cool sheets with Aaron’s solid heat pressed along your back. He braces your leg up, while the blunt crown of his cock teases the slick seam of your cunt. You’re already dripping, so incredibly wet that one firm push has the soft flesh of your hole bulging around his girth when he sinks all the way.

It doesn’t dull the shock of intrusion, though. Aaron is all all weight and pulsing veins, and no matter how many times he’s fucked you senseless, you never quite get used to how he stretches you open. The burn hits sharp, then dissolves into a syrupy ache you drink down willingly.

You also swallow around the thick head of Spencer’s cock pressing to your mouth, feeling the bitter tang dissolve on your tongue as he pauses to gauge your reaction. Your first instinct is disbelief. It boggles your mind how someone built so lanky and lithe can carry such surprising weight, but instead you let a tiny, encouraging nod.

It's all it takes for him to nudge forward.

He lets out a tiny gasp, hips stuttering as your warmth envelopes the only part your mouth can comfortably take. A shiver races through his frame, and before he can stop himself, one hand threads into your hair with a desperate grip. He’s trying so hard to be gentle, but his pelvis gives a needy push.

You choke around the force punching your throat.

Aaron immediately slows his own rhythm behind you. “Reid, control yourself,” he warns. “Won’t have you hurting her.”

You pull back just enough to steal a breath.

“No—” You swallow, eyes darting up to meet Spencer’s wide, worried gaze. “It’s okay. Do it again.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I like it,” you manage, and Aaron’s brows lift slightly. He’s never taken you too roughly. Binding you with his tie is an exercise in restraint, a blindfold a test of trust, and when it comes to edging, his patience is almost cruel in its tenderness. He likes to think his dominance is a careful thing.

But clearly he underestimated you. Especially when you lift your gaze to Spencer with glassy, luminous eyes.

“You can use my mouth,” you say softly, a little bashfully. “I want you to.”

The confession snaps something loose in Aaron. He grunts, hikes your leg higher and plunges into you with reckless speed. “You should’ve told me sooner,” he grits out. “Didn’t know you liked it so rough.”

Your clammy back slides against his chest every time he drives into you. “I-I did, you’re just a big softie.”

He gives you another grunt against your bare shoulder while Spencer tries to catch your attention again, brushing a damp strand of hair clinging to your cheek.

“Are you sure?”

You don’t think you’ve ever been this certain.

Confidence has never felt so visceral when you know what you want, and the idea someone as awkward as Spencer surrendering to hunger enough to use your mouth only slicks you further around Aaron’s cock.

So you tilt your head back shamelessly, tongue slipping out in a languid sweep over your lower lip.

And how can he possibly resist?

He wraps his hand around the back of your skull, palm splayed wide and fingers tangling in your hair as he thrusts forward. Sets a smooth languid pace, slow enough you can feel every rigid vein drag across your tongue. Most times he glides in with practiced care, more often than not, the bulbous tip of his cock bumps up against discomfort that lingers just the shy of pain.

Tears prick your lashes, a throbbing ache begins to set in your jaw, but you force your muscles to relax. Concentrate on the rush of air through your nose.

Inhale, exhale.

Gag.

Swallow.

Soft wiry curls brush the sensitive curve of your nose with each thrust as you continue to let him mold your throat into his own perfect fit. He fills your mouth with the same certainty Aaron fills your cunt, so that no inch of you remains untouched.

You’re a mess of body fluids. Spit runs from the corners of your mouth, sweat paints your bruising skin. But it’s your pussy that bears the most, swollen and slick beyond reason, you’re so thoroughly fucked that every plunge punches a shameless squelch into the air. Bounces off the faded wallpaper and the brittle plaster of an old building that has seen better days. Decades, even.

This place couldn’t be further from luxury. It’s a simple nondescript motel on the edge of this town that’s only available where the stench of cheap detergent and stale air barely masks the lingering scent of old cigarettes. Though the sagging mattress is more than enough to cradle you between two bodies in a sweaty, desperate mess.

And desperation thickens the air, thick as summer humidity. Aaron’s thrusts grow sloppy, grip bruising your skin as he pants against your ear, “Not gonna last long, sweetheart.”

You don’t think you’re going to last any longer either. Not when the sheer force of his pace makes it impossible to focus on anything else. It’s becoming too much, and Spencer seems to notice your fractured gasps muffled around his shaft. He looks at you through heavy lids and takes pity on your predicament, pulls himself out of your mouth and sits back on his heels.

You still catch the sight of him fisting his cock through the mist clouding your eyes, but even that melts away when Aaron’s lips find the shell of your ear, whispering all the filthy things that ruins what’s left of your fragile composure.

Always so good to me.

That’s it, taking me so well.

—my sweet, sweet girl.

But it isn’t until his voice drops lower that your body responds without permission.

“Gonna fill you up, yeah?” His teeth graze your earlobe. “You'll let me do that?”

Your cunt squeezes him so fiercely that he chokes on a grunt. Slides a heavy palm right at the supple flesh of your belly.

“Or you gonna let both of us fill you up?”

You feel your muscles tensing—

“Let him fuck my cum back into you?"

And moan unabashedly.

The sounds spilling from your throat hardly seem like your own. You try to marshal a proper syllable, but it simply melts on your tongue before it can crawl past your lips. What comes instead is an automatic stutter of nods, frantic little jerks of your head because he’s your boss, isn’t he? And good subordinates follow orders dutifully.

“That’s right,” Aaron croons. “Knew you’d take it. Such a good girl for me, aren't you?"

You nod even harder, grinding back against his ruthless thrusts while he keeps spinning those filthy words.

“Gonna be so full, sweetheart. Mess dripping out this pretty pussy."

The picture he paints is enough to tip you over the edge.

Pleasure snaps bright and violent. Your vision splinters into shards of glittering light as your cunt clamps down around him, walls fluttering in rapid spasms that slowly jerk his own release.

Aaron groans, fingers biting into the soft give of your skin while he keeps you chained. Holds you still as he floods your insides, heavy spurts that seem to pool deep in your belly before trickling down every fold of your flesh. Trickles weave along your swollen lips, mars the plush curve of your ass — stains your already wet thighs as he gently slips free.

You’re in no state to protest when he drags your limp body across tangled sheets. You don’t even have the strength to lift your head as he tucks you effortlessly under his chin, back to his chest, letting yourself dissolve between thick thighs. Your skin is burning fresh from the tremor clinging in your core.

Your lungs still stutter, but your pulse is clamoring for more.

Seldom have you seen Spencer move with such quiet certainty. He sinks to his knees between your quivering thighs, and the dim lamplight silvers the slick shine on his cock as he guides it through the creamy mess clinging to your folds. Quite repulsive, but nothing less than a wicked kind of fascination.

Clearly he sees the appeal — why else would he press the rounded crown against your hole, only to have you seize around him even after being stretched so thoroughly? Mesmerized is a better way to put it as he tries to rut deeper, and with every inch your pretty cunt swallows, he wonders why he’s wasted years fussing over germs when raw pleasure like this exists.

When you simply exist.

He lets out a pleased sigh when you finally stretch around him (takes a moment of more slow rocking and a hissed curse you’ve never heard from his lips) as your eyes hone in on the spot where your bodies merge. Hips flushed, pelvis snug, coarse hair pressed against your puffy clit, and you feel a stab of fullness that spirals straight into your spine.

It doesn’t take long for him to fuck you then.

Like a man possessed, too.

Your nails bite into Aaron’s thighs. Claws sinking into warm flesh as you brace yourself for every brutal thrust Spencer rams into you. The force sends your tits bouncing with each snap of his hips, and Aaron’s hands are there in an instant — rough palms claiming the soft weight, wicked thumbs skating over taut peaks. Rolls them between calloused fingers with just enough pressure to sting your eyes.

The rapture on your face is barely recognizable anymore. Pinched and overwhelmed, you don’t notice him abandoning your perky nipples to skim down your torso until the pruny pads of his fingertips find your soaking clit.

Your back arches off his chest.

“Fuuuck—” you wail, “gonna c-come.”

He can see that. It’s painfully, beautifully obvious to anyone with eyes that you’re right on the edge again for what must be the hundredth time tonight. And Aaron doesn’t think of himself as cruel. Far from it, really. But watching your body almost folded in half has him feeling absolutely wicked.

His voice is toothy sweet as he rubs firm circles against your poor, overstimulated clit. “I know, sweetheart. Gonna come again from being used?”

“Ah, ah—baby—p-please—”

“Gonna soak his cock for me? Show him how good my girl is?”

“Aaron—!”

“Mmm? What’s that?” He hums lazily. “You want me to stop?”

A desperate whine tears from your throat, and your shaking fingers clutch at the coarse hair on his forearm. His muscles flex beneath your grip, then loosen, then tighten. All it earns you is an amused laugh and an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek.

“Oh, my pretty girl. Greedy little thing can’t even decide, can you?”

“I— I can— I want—”

“Shh,” he soothes, though his touch only grows faster. Rubs your tight little bud as your hips buck shamelessly into the twofold stimulation. “No need to think, sweetheart, that’s my job. Yours is to take it, isn’t it?”

Your words slur into a quiet sob—

“You can take it, I know you can—yes—yes, that’s it, sweetie, give it to us. Come on, just like that—”

—before it blares into the stale air.

The back of your heels kick the mattress the moment you come around his word.

Spencer does too, lungs pummeled when your cunt squeeze around his length, gripping him like a steel vise.

He feels it all the way down to his bones, feels the ache radiating from his groin to his thighs and into the small of his back with every pulse of cum that hammers into you. His hips jerk in a frantic rhythm that no amount of bliss can slow, even when the swollen head of his cock nudges the soft resistance of your cervical lip, seeking a depth that simply doesn’t exist.

Still, he grinds deeper, crushing the distance until you’re stuffed full with an ironclad grip on your thighs.

“S-Spence…”

“A bit more,” he rasps. “Promise. Just a little more.”

That little fills you to the absolute brim.

It feels like his own pulse is tangled in the tight press of your walls.

And you’ve never known the smell of sex this strong. The air all but congeals when he finally pulls out, a slow, sticky slide that draws silken filaments of white from your used, swollen hole as three pairs of eyes lock onto the streak.

Yours is a little bleary. You can’t tell which milky ribbon belongs to whom, whose thick release is swirling with the gloss of your own slick, or which heartbeat drums the loudest in the tight space between your bodies. Breath, heat, and sweat fold together until the three of you feel like a single organism with too many limbs and just one shared lung.

Not that it matters. None of you seem particularly bothered by the lack of space. Aaron reclines against the creaky headboard, cradling most of your weight across his chest while Spencer draws lazy patterns over your sated thighs.

You don’t mind in the least. In fact, you bask in them both, drifting in the strange yet comforting irony that it took a misplaced contract for you to realize intimacy could be plural. You never expected it to multiply so neatly.

Some connections, it seems, don’t fit into singular terms at all.

Later that night, when the two men almost twice your size crowd you in the cramped bathroom, you realize your thoughts are already rewriting the contract. You wonder if Aaron would let you make a slight revision, scribble the third-participant clause into something more permanent.

You really hope he does.

[gweelczz]

“Baritone”

Sammie ‘Preacher boy’ Moore x Y/N (Sugar)

Genre: Fluff, smut (Y’all KNOW he a FREAK) MDNI

Warnings: he eats the 🐱like a pro!

Summary: Y/N has always been a sucker for his voice, he’s about to put what Stack taught him to the test

Y/N or Sugar as. Sammie called her was addicted to Sammie’s deep voice, and Lord, he knew it too well. It rumbled low, like slow thunder rollin’ over the Delta fields, sweet and sinful all at once. Sammie, mischievous grin tucked beneath the tilt of his hat, made it his mission to use that voice to his advantage — especially in moments like this one, when he was tryin’ to sweet-talk her into lettin’ him sing to her.

They were loungin’ outside Smoke and Stack’s juke joint, the sun startin’ to dip low, throwin’ gold light across the dusty ground. Sugar was sittin’ pretty on the porch steps, her dress catchin’ the breeze just enough to drive him halfway mad. Sammie leaned against the post, arms crossed, his mouth curled into that easy, lazy smile she hated herself for likin’ so much.

“Come on now, Sugar,” he drawled, that voice slow and syrupy, rollin’ over her like molasses. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with lettin’ a man sing for his lady.”

Sugar rolled her eyes, tryin’ — and failin’ — to fight the shiver that went up her spine at the way he said lady. “You just want to hear yourself talk, Sammie Moore,” she said, turnin’ her head away to hide her smirk.

Sammie chuckled low under his breath, the sound of it makin’ her knees weak. He knew he had her, and he wasn’t about to let up.

All that afternoon, he teased her without mercy. Every chance he got, he’d lean close, lettin’ his voice dip low when he whispered in her ear.

“You sure smell sweet today, Sugar…”

Or he’d brush by her, lettin’ the roughness of his hand skim her waist, his voice a murmur:

“Almost sweeter’n honeysuckle bloom in July.”

By the time night fell and the juke joint started hummin’ with music and laughter, Sugar was wound tighter than a fiddle string. Sammie watched her from across the room, his eyes heavy-lidded, his smirk growin’ every time he caught her sneakin’ a glance at him.

She tried to escape it — tried to busy herself helpin’ Stack and Smoke set up in the back — but Sammie wasn’t lettin’ her off that easy.

He found her in the storage room, her back turned to him as she sorted through crates of bottled soda and whiskey. The little oil lamp barely lit the room, makin’ it feel small and warm, the air thick with dust and old wood and that sweet scent of Sugar that drove him half-crazy.

He slipped in, quiet as a cat, and shut the door behind him with a soft click.

“Whatcha runnin’ from, Sugar?” he murmured, his voice damn near a growl in the dim light.

She jumped, hand flyin’ to her chest, and when she spun around, her glare could’ve set him on fire if it wasn’t for the way her lips trembled — like she was fightin’ a smile, fightin’ herself.

“Sammie,” she hissed, takin’ a step back, but he was already there, close enough that she could feel the heat radiatin’ off him.

“You know you love it,” he teased, his voice low and slow, velvet-draped and dangerous. His hand slid to her waist, thumb strokin’ the soft fabric of her dress. “You love the way I talk to you, Sugar. Gets you all flustered.”

She opened her mouth to fuss at him, but he didn’t give her the chance.

Sammie dipped his head, brushin’ his lips against hers — feather-light, teasin’ her the same way he had all day.

Sugar whimpered, barely a breath of sound, and that was all it took. Sammie deepened the kiss, pullin’ her flush against him, his hands roammin’ her hips like he couldn’t get enough.

Their mouths moved together desperate, hungrily, years of want pourin’ out between them. Sammie’s hat fell to the floor with a soft thud, forgotten, as he pressed her against the wall, his fingers threadin’ into her thick coils, cradlin’ her like somethin’ precious.

The taste of her, the feel of her, the way she clung to him — Sammie was losin’ himself, and he didn’t give a damn.

His deep voice rumbled against her lips between kisses, a rough, reverent murmur:

“Mine, Sugar… You hear me? You always been mine…”

The taste of her, the feel of her, the way she clung to him — Sammie was losin’ himself, and he didn’t give a damn.

Without breakin’ the kiss, he hoisted her up easy, settlin’ her on the old wooden table in the middle of the storage room. The wood groaned under their weight, but neither of ‘em cared. Sammie stepped between her knees, his big hands slidin’ up her thighs slow, bunchin’ the soft fabric of her dress as he went.

Sugar gasped, breakin’ the kiss, her hands catchin’ at his wrists. “Sammie… wait a minute baby, I-I ain’t presentable down there—”

But Sammie didn’t listen.

Didn’t even pause.

His hands slid up higher, sure and hungry, feelin’ every bit of that sweet, full body he’d dreamt about since he was a boy. His voice rumbled low against her skin, his mouth findin’ the crook of her neck, suckin’ and kissin’ like he couldn’t help himself.

He speaks clearly looking in her eyes, his voice a deep, sinful thing that made her whole body tremble. “You beautiful, I just wanna taste you”

He kissed her again, rougher this time, drownin’ out whatever protest was on her lips. His hands kept movin’, slidin’ up under that dress like he was claimin’ every inch of her, and Sugar — Lord help her — stopped tryin’ to stop him.

Stopped thinkin’ altogether.

There was only Sammie. His voice, his touch, his heart beatin’ right alongside hers, strong and sure and steady.

And there wasn’t no turnin’ back now.

He dropped to his knees pulling her panties down with him tucking them into his pocket, she wouldn’t be need’em right now anyway. He spreads her legs lifting them over his broad shoulders before diving in, going over everything Stack had taught him in his head he dove in head first.

His lips slowly kissed up her thighs sucking and biting the skin at times but never quite touching where she needed him. He blew softly onto her clit swirling his tongue twice before sucking on it harshly pulling off with a pop.

He remembered what Stack told him: “Once you find the button you wanna stimulate both her insides and her button, if you usin ya fingers then curl them upward while lickin on her button. If you just usin ya tongue then curl your tongue upward while making sure ya nose is nuzzling her button.”

He does as told and places a gentle kiss to her clit moving down to slip his tongue inside of her making sure his nose was rubbing her clit. Y/N pants heavily above him slowly leaning back while gripping the shelf next to her, her free hand lifting her skirt so she can see him better.

The sight of him staring up at her like a hungry predator making her heart stop for a second. Sammie speeds up the tempo of his tongue curling it upward while nuzzling her clit and gripping her thighs holding her in place.

Y/N moans quietly, her hips moving against his face slowly riding his tongue. Her chest heaves and her back arches feeling herself getting closer to the edge, “Sammie baby.. I-“ he cuts her off with a look, his eyes dark as he continues to feast on her slurping up her juices that spill. He brings her over the edge making her cry out his name while he swallowed everything greedily, not wanting to waste a drop.

He eats her through it until she’s pushing his head away causing him to pull back with a sly grin. Coming up he kisses her once again allowing her to taste herself before pulling back, “C’mon here, got folks waitin on us”

[demie90s]

this literally came to me in a dream.

kk arnold x college graduate/post graduate! reader (just slightly older like 3-4 yrs) they met in nyc at the wnba draft or through a sponsored event because shes working there, and kk is immediately smitten and starts inviting reader to all the games. reader likes kk but is hesitant about the age gap, but eventually gives in. kk tries spoiling reader with gifts so reader spoils back because she “actually makes a salary” and KK flexes NIL deals to impress reader (which works). basically a super eager KK trying to profe herself and end with reader realizing itd be stupid to not give it a shot

(Got both)

Grown Money, Baby Crush

KK Arnold x fem!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: They meet at a sponsored NYC event—reader’s post-grad, working full-time, and KK’s a rising star with big NIL energy. Despite the age gap, KK’s instantly hooked.

Warnings: Mild age gap (3-4 years), gift-giving, soft conflict, sweet tension, emotionally mature moment

Word count: ~

KK been gone over me from the first conversation—and I knew it.

It wasn’t just the way she looked at me, like she was studying. It was how she listened. No fake “uh-huh”s, no “bet” and scroll. Eyes locked. Head tilted. She was quiet when I talked about my job, even asked questions about policy meetings I thought bored most adults to tears. “You’re so smart,” she’d said one night. “I feel like I’m in a TED Talk every time we hang out.”

And me? I was trying so hard not to take it there. Not because she wasn’t beautiful—she was too beautiful. Like she was made to test grown women who swore they had standards. But she was younger. That mattered. Not legally, but… life-wise. KK had NIL deals. I had a Roth IRA. She stayed up rewatching her highlights. I stayed up comparing health insurance premiums.

I told her once, “You don’t want me. You want someone who hasn’t seen as much. Someone you can impress.”

She blinked slow. “That’s crazy ‘cause I’m trying to be the one to impress you.”

And she meant it. That girl did everything for me.

Had a pair of sneakers customized with my name stitched on the back. Posted it without tagging me, just for me to see. She made it subtle. Personal. Brought me court-side like I belonged there. Let people wonder. Didn’t explain a thing. She’d lean in during warmups, grin and say, “I like you sitting close. You remind me what I’m playing for.”

I’d act unfazed. But it was getting harder. Especially after that one game in Connecticut. She dropped 22 and winked at me before every free throw. Then after the buzzer? Ran straight into my arms, pressed her cheek against mine, whispered, “Come with me.”

Not come home, not let’s talk. Come with me.

Like she was ready to claim me in front of everybody.

But I still pulled back a little. Told her she was caught up. That I was older. Wiser. That this was fun but she needed someone who could match where she was growing, not where I already was.

And she got quiet. Dead serious. Told me, “You think I don’t like older women? You think I don’t know what I want?”

I tried to laugh it off. “You like the chase.”

She stepped up, almost in my face. “I like you. The way you carry yourself. You’re grown. You’re smart. You don’t let me get away with shit. You don’t need me to buy you stuff, but you let me try. And you smell like cocoa butter and peace. I’m obsessed. I’m not hiding it.”

That night, I let her drive.

We didn’t even get halfway to my place before she pulled over, parked with both hands still gripping the wheel. She didn’t touch me at first. Just stared, lips parted, like she needed permission to lose her cool.

And I gave it to her.

I leaned in, slow, lips brushing hers like I was testing fate. When she kissed back, it was everything. Urgent. Focused. Hungry. She was young, yeah—but not immature. KK knew how to handle. How to wait. How to tease and make it feel like war.

Later that week, she came to my place with a tote bag full of snacks, her jersey, and a toothbrush. I asked why.

She just said, “You too grown to keep acting like we not already building something.”

And from that day on, we stopped pretending. I let her spoil me. She let me teach her things nobody else could. And somewhere between her soft flexes and my hard boundaries, we found something that worked.

KK might’ve been younger. But she wasn’t green. And I? I was done pretending I wasn’t hers.

————————

It wasn’t one big moment that made me give in.

It was a million small ones. The way KK held eye contact when she said, “Be safe” like she meant it. The way she’d tilt her phone for me to see the memes she thought were funny. How she texted me “landed” before her own mama. How she made room for me in her life before I ever asked.

I’d been telling myself I was doing the smart thing. The mature thing. That the age gap mattered. That she deserved her 20s free of serious things like me. But KK had always been serious. When she loved something, she locked in. Basketball. Her family. Me.

She just never pushed. And maybe that’s what made me fold.

We were in her apartment after a game—one she didn’t even start in, but she stayed late signing every little girl’s poster like she had 30 points. I sat on her couch with one leg tucked under me, sipping tea I brought, waiting for her to come out the shower.

She stepped out in shorts and a sports bra, curls dripping, skin glowing from the steam. She flopped beside me, legs stretched out like it was her house and her rules. She didn’t even look my way—just leaned into my shoulder like gravity chose me for her.

“I’m tired,” she mumbled.

“I know,” I said, rubbing small circles into her arm. “But you did good today.”

“I’m tryna do good every day,” she said, voice low. “Especially when it come to you.”

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. My throat was too tight.

She looked up at me then—eyes soft, serious, and a little unsure. “You don’t gotta feel bad for liking me back, you know. It’s okay if you do.”

And something in me cracked open.

I sat up, turned toward her fully, and said, “You’re not just some girl I think is cute. You’re smart, KK. You’re good to me. You make me feel wanted in a way that isn’t performative. And I’ve been fighting it, but I’m tired too.”

Her eyes widened a little, but she didn’t speak. So I kept going.

“I like you. I like the way you move, the way you talk, the way you look at me like I’m not some prize—you already won. You want me for real. And baby… I want you too.”

And that was it. No dramatic kiss. No big orchestral swell. Just her sliding closer and me letting her.

We didn’t even do anything that night. We just curled into each other, my head on her chest, her arm across my waist, legs tangled and hearts steady.

She kissed my forehead and whispered, “I got you now.”

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @zizi-bee-yapping @kaliblazin @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey

[jacksonsturniolo]

“attitude”

warnings — nick having attitude, jasper a brat tamer fr, smut, like rough sex, gay sex, so sexy, angst kinda?, fluff at the end, that’s it.

a/n — how me and him would be if we were tg tbh

Nick had been testing him all day.

Snapping back with sharp little remarks, rolling his eyes, acting like he didn’t care — like he couldn’t be touched. Pacing around the apartment with that clipped tone, brushing Jasper off when he tried to check in, that subtle smirk on his face like he was waiting for Jasper to break.

And maybe he was.

Because by the time Nick muttered, “What, gonna pout again?” — Jasper didn’t answer.

He didn’t say a word.

He just crossed the room, grabbed Nick’s wrist, and manhandled him toward the bedroom so fast the smirk dropped right off his face.

“Jasper—” Nick started, breath catching.

“Nope,” Jasper growled. “You wanna act like that? Fine. I’ll give you something to be smart about.”

Before Nick could get another word out, Jasper had him face down on the mattress, shirt pushed up, pants yanked halfway down — leaving him exposed, caught in that sharp mix of anticipation and regret.

Nick squirmed, looking back over his shoulder. “You’re mad.”

“I’m done with the backtalk,” Jasper muttered, kneeling behind him, one firm hand planted on his lower back to keep him still. “You think I won’t handle it when you push me?”

Nick swallowed hard, voice wobbling now. “…I didn’t mean—”

“Too late for that.” Jasper leaned down, breath hot against Nick’s ear. “You wanted my attention. Now you have all of it.”

Nick shivered beneath him, suddenly quiet.

Jasper dragged his fingers slowly down Nick’s spine, tracing the line from his shoulders to the waistband of his boxers. “Face down,” he said, low and commanding. “Ass up. Don’t move unless I tell you.”

Nick’s breath stuttered, hips arching up ever so slightly.

Jasper smirked. “That’s more like it.”

He settled behind him, fingers digging into Nick’s waist, not to hurt — just enough to remind him who was in charge now. His voice stayed low, firm, in control.

“Every time you open that mouth to sass me, I’ll make you beg twice as long to come. You understand me?”

Nick whimpered. “Yes.”

“Say it louder.”

“Yes, sir.”

“There he is,” Jasper murmured, dragging his palm down the curve of Nick’s back. “Now be good for me.”

Nick was trembling now.

Not from fear — from tension. From that exact dizzying mix Jasper knew he craved. That place where he didn’t have to think, only feel.

Jasper leaned over him, dragging his lips down the nape of Nick’s neck, not kissing — just hovering. Breathing. Letting Nick feel the weight of his presence.

“You always talk big,” Jasper whispered, voice like gravel and heat, “but the second I put you where you belong, you go all soft on me.”

Nick’s hands clutched the sheets, knuckles white. “Jasper…”

“Mmm. Not so cocky now, are you?” Jasper slid a hand beneath him, just enough pressure to make Nick gasp and arch. “All that attitude just to get me here.”

Nick let out a sound between a whimper and a plea.

Jasper grabbed his wrists, pulled them behind his back gently but firmly, holding them there with one hand. His other hand was slow, deliberate — tracing circles along the back of Nick’s thigh, his hip, the curve of his waist. Never giving him what he needed. Just showing him who was in charge.

“You want me to ruin you, baby?” he murmured, lips brushing Nick’s ear. “You want me to take it from you?” He paused for a second “want me to take that attitude away..hm?”

Nick nodded quickly. “Please.”

Jasper growled, deep and low, biting softly into Nick’s shoulder. “Then stop moving.”

He shifted his hips forward, grinding against him through the thin layers left between them — not enough to satisfy, just enough to drive Nick insane.

Nick was squirming now, moaning softly, practically begging under his breath.

Jasper chuckled. “That’s right. You’ll take what I give you. And when I’m done, you’ll be so spent you won’t even remember why you had an attitude in the first place.”

Nick gasped, barely coherent now.

Jasper tightened his hold on Nick’s wrists, voice dark and low.

“Be still, pretty thing. We’re not even close to done.”

Nick flinched slightly when he felt Jasper’s fingers curl around the waistband of his boxers.

“Still mouthing off now?” Jasper murmured low, lips brushing the shell of Nick’s ear as he leaned forward.

Nick’s breath caught, face buried in the mattress. “No…”

“Didn’t think so.”

Slowly, deliberately, Jasper tugged the fabric down, baring Nick inch by inch — not fast, not rough. Just slow enough to make him feel every moment of it. Nick’s breath came faster, thighs tense, his whole body taut with anticipation.

The cool air hit his skin and he let out a soft, helpless sound.

Jasper smoothed a hand over the newly exposed skin, steady and firm, voice dark and quiet. “Look at you now. Not so tough when I’ve got you like this.”

In one swift motion, Jasper yanked his sweats and boxers down, his length springing free and slapping against his lower stomach with a sharp, heated sound.

He reached over, grabbed the bottle of lube, and poured some into his palm — the cool slickness Jasper slightly hissed as he spread it over his length, then down to nicks ass, pressing it gently against his clenching hole.

Jasper’s tip pressed right against Nick’s entrance, teasing and barely there — just enough to make the boy beneath him squirm. Nick let out a soft, desperate whine into the pillow, and Jasper leaned down, voice low and rough.

“You think you deserve it, huh?”

Before Nick could even beg, Jasper thrust in all at once — burying himself to the hilt. The words caught in Nick’s throat, replaced by a strangled moan as his back arched and his fingers twisted in the sheets.

Jasper didn’t give Nick a second to adjust — he set a brutal pace from the start, snapping his hips forward with force. Each thrust slammed into him, driving Nick forward on the mattress with every harsh collision of skin, the sound obscene, relentless, and leaving him gasping.

Jasper’s grip tightened on Nick’s hips, fingers digging in just enough to leave a reminder. His voice came rough, breathless against the back of Nick’s neck

“Still got that smart mouth now, baby?”

Nick tried — he really did — but all that came out was a breathy, broken sound. He opened his mouth, one hand fumbling for the pillow like it might anchor him.

“I—”

“Yeah?” Jasper snapped his hips forward again, sharp and precise. “Didn’t think so.”

Nick let out a whine, face buried in the sheets, his voice cracking as he managed, “Y-you’re s-such a—”

Jasper cut him off with another deep thrust, forcing the rest of the sentence to dissolve into a moan.

“Finish that,” Jasper growled, dragging his nails down Nick’s side. “Go on. Call me something else. I dare you.”

Nick was trembling now, legs weak, voice barely a whisper.

“Didn’t mean it…”

Jasper leaned down, lips brushing over his spine, tone rough but full of lust.

“No, you did. And now you’re taking it like you were made for this.”

Nick was barely holding on.

Every thrust knocked the air from his lungs, every rough drag of Jasper’s hips pushing him deeper into the sheets, unraveling him. His arms had given out long ago, forehead pressed to the mattress, mouth parted and gasping.

And Jasper didn’t let up.

“Gonna come like this?” he rasped, voice dark with possession. “Face down, all used up, not even talking anymore?”

Nick whimpered, his only answer.

Jasper’s pace faltered just for a second — just enough to press in deeper, his hand sliding up Nick’s back, grounding him. “You feel what you do to me, baby? How tight you are, how good?”

Nick cried out at that, hips trembling beneath the weight of Jasper’s thrusts.

“Touch yourself,” Jasper ordered, low and close to his ear now. “Come for me.”

Nick reached down with a shaking hand, and it only took a few strokes. His body tensed, legs curling in as his release overtook him — choking on a moan, his mind blurring out into white noise and heat.

The moment Nick clenched around him, Jasper broke.

His hands gripped tighter, breath hitching into a growl as he buried himself deep one final time, stuttering through the waves that hit him. His entire body shuddered, pressing flush against Nick’s back, like he had to stay there — like leaving him now wasn’t an option.

They were both gasping, sweaty and tangled and silent except for the sound of their breathing and the faint creak of the mattress underneath.

After a beat, Jasper reached up, brushing the hair from Nick’s face and pressing a soft kiss to the top of his spine.

“You okay?” he whispered.

Nick, still catching his breath, nodded against the sheets.

“Mhm. I’m… I’m good. You ruined me.”

Jasper smiled.

“Yeah. But you asked for it.”

taglist— @grace-sturnz @kier-with-a-k @urloveanaa @bernardsbendystraws @princesspinkkk23 @urfavvbilliemunch @emely9274 @nessabarrettswhore @oopsiedaisydeer @thenickgirl @nickssidewitch @queenbreana @chriss-slut @rriverscuomo @conspiracy-ash @lezleeferguson-120 @etherealsturns @tezzzzzzzz @httpssturns @cupidsfawn @nicksfrenchtoast

[whiteferraristurns]

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ✶ sad themes..

𝓑ᝰ. hi lovelies!! this is a little sad.. your girl was in her feels. i love you guys so much enjoy!!

The apartment was quiet in a way it hadn’t been in months. All the past laughter and late night conversations were like ghosts haunting him. His hoodie hung off his frame like it didn’t belong to him anymore and maybe it didn’t. Everything felt like it belonged to a version of himself that had existed days ago. Maybe longer. He couldn’t tell time right now. these past 3 days were all a blur he couldn’t remember.

He sat on the edge of the bed. your shared bed. His fingers clenched into the sheets you hadn’t slept on in a few nights. His knees bounced. His throat burned. He hadn’t cried. Not yet. He hadn’t let himself. If he did, it would be real.

And he wasn’t ready for it to be real.

Your sweater still hung on the edge of the his chair. He hadn’t touched it. He couldn’t. he was afraid that it would break him.

He replayed your voice in his head multiple times. it wasn’t the person he had fallen in love with. The cold sentence wasn’t full of the softness or the love it used too. It wasn’t the same voice he had shared soft laughs with or the late-night whispers.

“Chris, I just… I don’t feel it anymore.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. That was three nights ago. You’d stood in this room, arms crossed tightly over your chest, your voice trembling but not from sadness, but guilt. And that was the worst part. You meant well. You were gentle. Honest.

and it still shattered him in ways he hadn’t felt no matter how soft you did it.

Chris had always known that once he fell.. he fell hard. he loved too hard. Too fast. Too desperately. It was something he didn’t talk about—something he buried in sarcasm and “nah, I’m good”s, but the truth was, he wasn’t good. Not before you. Not even now.

Especially not now..

you two had dated for two years. 730 days that were full of thousands of conversations, hundreds of fights, Inside jokes only you two understood, late-night drives, and shared looks that shared emotions he’ll never forget.

he didn’t know where it all went wrong. he tried everything he possibly could to make sure you didn’t leave him. when he met you for the first time he thought you were gonna be his forever.

you were all confidence and calm energy. You walked into his life like you’d belonged in it. Like the universe had already made space for you in his chest and was just waiting for him to catch up.

But Chris had always kept people at arm’s length. Not because he didn’t care but because he cared too much. Getting attached was a sickness for him. He knew how he got when he truly fell. Clingy. Paranoid. Desperate to be reassured that he wouldn’t be left behind like all the others.

Still, you stayed. You had met him halfway, every time. You held his face when he got in his own head. You texted him just because. You listened when he rambled and didn’t get scared when he told you about the way his thoughts spiraled sometimes.

he was stupid enough to believe that when you said you weren’t going anywhere “no matter what happened” you actually meant it.

when you had left you hadn’t taken all of your things. Just your laptop, charger, a few clothes in a bag that used to sit next to his sneakers by the door. He thought maybe that meant something. That you weren’t sure. That you’d come back and it’ll all be okay.

But it made his stomach turn when you hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Hadn’t liked anything he posted. Hadn’t even checked on him. he knew that maybe this was the end.

He was halfway through rereading a message thread between the two of you. scrolling back months into your I-love-yous and inside jokes when the lock clicked. it was past midnight by now. He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

The door creaked open like the universe was testing him. Seeing how much more he could take. then you stepped inside. You looked exhausted. Not sad. Not angry. Just tired. Like you hadn’t slept. Like the breakup had carved something out of you too, and maybe it had. Maybe that should’ve made him feel better but it didn’t.

Chris didn’t move. he was afraid if he did you’d disappear. “I just came to get the rest of my stuff,” you said softly, like you were scared her voice would shatter the silence too harshly.

Chris said nothing. Just gave a nod so small it barely counted. When you moved across the room your eyes briefly flicked to him but you pulled it away just as quick as it came. The bag in your hand brushed the doorway as you stepped into the closet, pulling down a few shirts.

He could hear you trying not to sniffle. Maybe it was allergies. Maybe it was grief. Either way, he heard it, and it scratched at something deep in his chest.

when you stepped out of the closet you picked up the sweater on the back of the chair. “You should keep that,” he murmured suddenly, his voice rough and low. You paused. “Chris—” he shook his head. you softly picked the sweater up in your arms as he kept his eyes on his hands.

His voice came out hoarse again. “You could’ve just… told me.” You paused, her back to him as you stopped at the entrance of the closet again.

God, he didn’t understand. You had been good together.. maybe not perfect, but you were trying. He was trying.

Chris’s eyes stayed locked on the floor as he spoke. “When you stopped feeling it. You could’ve said something.”

You turned, slowly. Your face looked like you wanted to explain, but there were no words good enough for that kind of pain. “I didn’t know how,” you said.

“You said you weren’t going anywhere.” you breathed carefully. “I thought I meant it.” He let out a small, bitter laugh. “I thought you did too.” You stepped into the middle of the room again. “Chris…”

He finally looked up at you. he really looked at you. And God, you looked like a ghost. Not because you were pale or distant but because you weren’t his anymore. His voice cracked in a way that made want to cry “I would’ve done anything. You know that, right?”

You odded. “I know. That’s what scared me.” His breath caught. “What?” You nodded. “You would’ve bent yourself into pieces for me. And I let you. You loved me like I was oxygen. Like if I left, you’d stop breathing. That kind of love… it’s beautiful, but it’s also heavy. It started to feel like drowning.”

The silence that followed wasn’t quiet anymore. It was a scream with no sound. He stood now, slowly, arms hanging useless at his sides. “You made me feel like I wasn’t too much. Like I could be needy and anxious and clingy and you’d still choose me. Every day.”

“I did,” you whispered. His heart stopped at the way you said it.. did. Past tense. A dead thing. “Then why didn’t you fight for us?” You swallowed hard. “Because by the time I realized I was fading, I didn’t want to keep you hoping.”

Chris blinked. “You already were my hope.” You both stood like that for a bit. Only feet apart but you felt worlds away. “I’m sorry.” you softly said before turning to grab the last of your things. Chris stood there for a second before also turning and laying down on the bed cuddling into the pillow that still had the smell of you on it. He could hear you shuffling through things and small sniffles again. he knew you were crying.

It was 1:12 when you had finally collected every you could. you silently looked over at the boy you once loved before walking to the door. Chris looked up at you teary eyed. “wait..” your hand stopped on the door handle.

he wiped his nose. “I will always love you.” He muttered. you almost lost right then and there. he almost had hope when you didn’t move. “goodbye Chris.” was all that came out of your mouth as you opened the door and shut it quietly behind you.

He sat in silence for a good second before it all hit him. he bawled. He finally let it feel real. his teary eyes caught the glimpse of your sweater still sitting on the chair. he couldn’t believe it. he got up quickly as his hand shook. his shaky hands wrapped around the fabric pulling it to his face.

he buried his face in it like it might still hold the sound of your voice, the echo of your laugh, and the softness of your goodbye.

just maybe.. this would finally be ending to everything or maybe it was the start of a whole new wave of hurting.

𝓑ᝰ. i love this sm

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ - @sturniqloo @dollyessence @il0vecatzzz @starrii-sturns @mattsfavginger @starfuckoff @heartz4matt @strnilolover @n0tnovaa @ivysturnss @sturniolozbae @n1ckst7rnies @stvni0l0 @maddysouls

[luc1-anna]

Refusing to drive home in such dark conditions, it was around 1am on a Monday, having just come back from a visit to your friend's, wanting to get home since you had something early in the morning and the roads would be packed if you left later. Parked up at the side of the road, it would probably would've been safer to stay at your friend's rather than stop halfway and wait till the sun rose.

Car lights off to conserve energy as the light outside illuminated the build of your vehicle. Though it wouldn't be obvious that someone was there if they didn't look hard enough, with bushes covering your surroundings. The sound of gravel alerting your senses, only to see the reflective colours of a police car, stopping right beside yours as one of them stepped dout, leaving the other in the car. Flashlight glowing towards your car, pointing in your face. "How you doing today ma'am?" Leaning on the open window of yours, you couldn't deny that he was attractive, he was like a model. A few minutes passing as he asks questions, finally getting to the last one. "Can I see your id?" Motioning for you to put it in your hands. Scuffling about as you were a bit nervous, normally it would be fine to hand your id to an officer, but this one was more on the attractive side whilst the others weren't.

"Well I've got to do a quick test for alcohol and substances" noticing how flimsy you were when you tried to hand him your id, barley able to remember a reason why you were nere at practically midnight, stuttering as you spoke to him too. "Step outside the car for me?" He wasn't asking, he expected you to do it, stepping out as he dragged you towards the cop car, sitting you inside as the other man glanced back for a few seconds, engulfed in your beauty. "Breath into this for me love" surely it was unprofessional for an officer to call you 'love', right?

Despite the tests come back negative he had other ideas in mind, refusing to let you go, explaining that it was unsafe for such a pretty lady to be on the side of the road, when it was practically pitch black. "Leave her alone, you being creepy." "Shut the fuck up, I don't see you getting off your ass" arguing as you sat in the back, you were grateful for the officer who sat in the driver's seat.

Somehow that arguing developed into him taking his frustration out on you. Face rubbing against the cool temperature of the metal. Body jerking forward with each thrust, feeling a shock run up your spine as he kept slapping your ass, using your hands as handlebars for his own dirty deeds, tightening the handcuffs just to leave marks on your poor wrists. "Your pussy feels good for such a slut like you." You weren't a slut, maybe he had a degradation kink, "Taking an officer's cock on the side of the road at 1am" thrusting further inside of you, the curve on his dick made it better since he was reaching places which you couldn't, tip running along your gummy walls. Gripping onto his cock, wanting to leech off every drop of his cum.

"Taking your time with her?" The other officer called out, still sat in the car as he monitored the surroundings. "Shut up!" He called back, he was so worked up in your hole that he didn't have anything snarky to comment back. Hand slapping your ass in retaliation, making you yelp as you felt the sharp sting. Hand staying gripped on your ass as he pushed further inside, cock rubbing against your walls. Balls slapping your poor cunt, creating a noise which could only be described as pleasure. Door slamming as you heard the steps onto the gravel, Stumbling backwards as he felt an arm on his shoulder. "You take too long." Dragging you off the car, letting you hold your own weight up. "What? You want a turn or something?" Joking with him as he pushed inside once again.

Hearing the zipper unfold in front of you, you couldn't see much due to the position. "Look up" bringing your chin up so you met his boxers, already noticing the imprint of his bulge kissing the exposed part of his boxers, leaving a light mark of your lips. Stroking his hands along your head, throwing his boxers down since you couldn't do it, cock popping up as it hit your top lip, light pink mushroom tip dripping with precum, leaking all over his cock. Stuffing your poor mouth with his full length, tongue having to adapt to how large he was as it swirled along, taking in every vein and detail. Throwing his head back as your mouth warmed up his cock, he didn't even have to move since your body kept on jerking forward due to his colleague. "Your good with your tongue" complimenting how well you sucked him off. Another sharp sting running throughout your body, noticing how much attention you gave him, he was getting pissed off since he was first. "Slow down, your gonna bruise her!" Helping you out as he noticed how hard your face mashed into his pelvis, balls slapping each end of your lips. "Or atleast loosen her handcuffs" he didn't like how tight they looked on you, most likely going to leave marks when they taken off. Loosening the grip on your head, stepping back a bit so you stopped gagging on his dick. Knees wanting to buckle from how hard he thrusted inside. "Shut up, I'm close" wanting to speed him up so you could focus on the nicer one. Walls gripping onto his cock, balls slapping your wet cunt, feeling some accomplishment from how you made someone cum.

"Don't get all cocky princess, he does this to most pretty girls." Clearly this officer was a whore if that was true, fucking any girl he got his hands on. Not even trying to deny it as he paid no attention to the man. Kissing his teeth. "Don't lie." Responding to the man as he felt his balls empty, seed spilling all inside your tight hole, he didn't even care that it had the risk of getting pregnant since you felt this good, plus he wouldn't mind having a kid with such a beautiful woman. Groaning in response, cum already dripping out of you since he hadn't done this in a while, removing himself as he watched it drip out, slapping your ass for one last time.

"I'm done" drying his cum coated cock with a tissue. You wasted now time getting out of that position, crouching down Infront of the other officer, hands still tied behind your back. His essence dripping out of your hole, causing the gravel to turn a different shade of white. Mouth bobbing forward to backward as you took his full length back in, gagging at the feeling of his tip hitting your throat.

[steddieas-shegoes]

all mixed up

for @steddielovemonth prompt “love is the perfect mixtape’

rated t | 940 words | cw: brief mention of recreational drug use | tags: friends to lovers, getting together, love confessions, fluff

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

The silence in the car was stifling.

It was hot. Like, entirely too hot.

Steve was about five seconds away from taking his shirt off and dealing with Robin’s rolled eyes when Eddie, surprisingly, beat him to it.

The windows were down, but the radio was off, and sweat was dripping from every pore of their bodies onto the sticky leather seats of Steve’s car.

Eddie’s shirt was sitting on the seat next to him, and one of his hands was gathering his hair up so he could get some wind on his neck, not that the wind was any real help.

“What if we just all go to Robin’s?” Eddie asked when they were only a block away from her house. “Soak up some cool air.”

“Her parents are home,” Steve said for the fifth time.

“I don’t see the issue.”

“They think you were targeting me as the next victim,” Robin shook her head. “I don’t know how many times I’ve explained to them-“

“Fine!” Eddie said, too hot to bother listening or trying to argue. “But I swear we’re getting the AC in this car fixed tomorrow.”

“Oh, do you suddenly have $140?” Steve was met with silence. “Thought so.”

When Robin got out of the car, she slipped $20 into Steve’s hand. “For gas or AC, whatever.”

It was the first time Eddie had ever seen her give Steve any form of payment for rides, and probably the last going off of the way Steve’s entire face went from mildly uncomfortable to physical pain.

Eddie moved to the passenger seat and buckled up.

That was the biggest rule in Steve’s car: everyone wore seatbelts unless they were being chased by Upside Down creatures.

Steve backed out of the driveway once Robin was inside, and once again tried to flip the AC on.

Nothing.

“Why did this have to happen right before the hottest part of the year?” Eddie groaned.

“Just lucky,” Steve shrugged.

He should’ve taken his shirt off when he was in Robin’s driveway.

He pretended not to be distracted by the sweat glistening on Eddie’s chest, his skin flush pink from the heat. Steve pretended to not notice his newest tattoo, a nail bat that could have been identical to Steve’s real one under his bed.

“Oh!” Eddie suddenly said, nearly making Steve slam on the brakes or steer off the road. Maybe both.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot,” Eddie started to say as he reached through the backpack he had on the floor at his feet. “I made a…ah-ha!”

He held up a small rectangle, beaming over at Steve, who was too focused on driving to really see what he was holding.

“Uh. What is it?” He asked.

“It’s a mixtape! You were complaining about the kids stealing all your tapes and I thought I could make one for you,” Eddie opened the cassette case and shoved the tape in the tape deck. “I fit as much of what I knew you had on here, but there are limits to my magic so-“

“You seriously made me a mixtape of a bunch of pop songs?” Steve rolled to a stop at a stop sign, finally able to properly look over at Eddie.

He was pulling a lock of hair into his mouth, nervously looking back at Steve like he was unsure he’d done the right thing, like this was a test he hadn’t studied for and had a big chance of failing.

“I mean, I did throw in one of my favorite songs halfway to shake things up,” Eddie said nervously.

“You recorded fucking Blondie on a tape for me?” Steve asked incredulously.

“One song is Blondie, but-“

“And Tears for Fears?” Steve was still stopped in the road.

Eddie glanced behind them, ignoring the squeak of his slick skin rubbing against the seat. No cars, thankfully.

“Yeah, they’re on there.”

Steve put the car in park.

“Steve, you’re in the road, you can’t-“

“Shut up!” Steve turned completely towards Eddie, his face serious. “You made me a mixtape.”

“Yes and now I’m regretting mentioning it while you were driving.” Duran, Duran started playing and Steve let out a small gasp. “Dude, are you okay?”

“Do you remember when you told me that music was your love language? We were high and you said that you would give the person you love a mixtape to show you cared about them?”

He did say that. It was well over a month ago, when he and Steve had been sitting on his roof smoking, when Eddie had almost told him then how much he loved him. He’d held back, but barely.

“I…yeah, I remember.”

“And you made me a mixtape.”

“I did.”

“Eddie…”

“Steve…”

“Is this you telling me you love me?”

It wasn’t. Not intentionally. Not really.

But as expected, Steve saw through him, had a memory like a steel trap despite how many times he’d had his lights knocked out.

“You love me.”

Eddie was desperate to touch him, but the reminder of how hot it was, how much sweat was dripping off of him made him pause.

“When we get to your house, I’ll tell you.”

“What? Why not now?” Steve pouted.

Eddie fell harder.

“Because if I kiss you in this car, I’ll be mad about suffering in the heat longer. You have a house with AC and a cold shower." Eddie poked Steve's bottom lip back in. "I can show you if you hurry."

Steve took the car out of park and hit the gas, his perfect mixtape playing on the radio and Eddie laughing in the passenger seat.

[alchemistc]

(dys)functional | bucktommy bonus chapter

an: Everyone else seemed just as enamored of Evelyn Carrini as I was when I made her up, so I thought I'd piece together all the random notes app thoughts I had about her an Tommy in high school into something that wasn't a disorganized half bullet list/half snippet-fest.

read on ao3

He’s halfway through homeroom when he notices it. The whispers, the side-eyes, the covert little looks shot in his direction when they think he’s not looking. The problem is that Thomas Kinard has spent the first seventeen years of his life hyperaware any time he is the focus of someone’s attention, and now he feels like ants are crawling under his skin.

He spends the next three periods convinced he’s still got toilet paper stuck to his face where he’d nicked himself shaving, but no matter how many times he wipes a too-big hand across his face, under his chin, he’s still being stared at. It’s a weird feeling. He’s been as close to invisible as he can manage since middle school, since the first time a boy had smiled at him and Tom had wanted. Sure, he plays the sports his dad had demanded he play, and sure, he’s — moderately friendly with a few different groups, but he isn’t — he doesn’t —

Evelyn Carrini sidles up to him at the start of lunch with a keyring curling around her middle finger, perfectly manicured French tips and a plethora of plastic bands wrapped around her wrists, eyes assessing, keys jangling in the loose circle of her palm. “Buy me lunch, Kinard,” she says, and Tom — Tom follows her out to her car so she can take them through the nearby Wendy’s drive through.

His dad is ecstatic. Good grades haven’t impressed him, making the right teams hasn’t impressed him — even shedding the weight over the summer that had clung to him for years despite being active as hell hadn’t impressed him — but the first time he catches Evelyn “studying” in Tom’s room, he smacks Tom so hard on the back that he has to scramble on suddenly gangly limbs to keep his balance.

Evelyn is a cheerleader. A firecracker, according to every adult who’s ever met her, an absolute darling of Cliffside Park High, and generally well known as the nicest girl who could possibly gossip about you behind your back. Tom’s a little obsessed with her. Enough to give it a try, enough to roll around with her in the bed of her dads pickup, making out until they’re blue in the face, enough to want to spend every spare fucking moment with her.

They go to movies, and hang out at the mall with all her friends, and drink beer in the carpark behind the Sears that’d gone out of business a year and a half earlier. They hold hands in the hallways at school, and pass notes in the classes they share, and Tom meets her parents at a quiet family dinner where no one asks a single question about his novelist grandfather and his fuckup kids, or his dead mom, or the sister being raised by his aunt a township over.

Tom adores Evelyn. He does. He doesn’t even mind it that much that her nails dig into his skin when she’s got her tongue in his mouth, or that her perfume is always just a little overpowering. Evelyn is great.

Evelyn... has an excellent rack. Top notch, really — round perky breasts with rose colored nipples that are perfectly symmetrical and...right up in his face.

Evelyn squirms in his lap, and Tom knows the game is up.

He’s — maybe at half chub (He’s a teenager, sue him. Sometimes a well aimed breeze gets him hard.) Nothing to write home about, anyway, and Tom can usually explain this away, shift his hips and slow the kissing and suck at Evelyn’s neck until she gets impatient enough to shove his hand down her Spanx and let him get to work.

Tom is aware that no amount of testing the weight of Evie’s tits in his hands or sucking one of those dusky nipples between his teeth is gonna get him there.

“Are you —?” Evelyn asks, and Tom stares at her chest and tries to imagine a scenario where his dad doesn’t find out about this. His — his hands are shaking. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t drawn a breath in about forty-five seconds. “Jesus Christ, Kinard, do you want me to put my shirt back on?”

Evelyn Carrini is just another dumb teenager who has no fucking idea how badly things are about to turn for him.

And then she isn’t.

“Oh my god,” she says, delight in her voice, and Tom cringes, hands curling into fists in Evie’s purple duvet as she swings off of him and scrambles for the shirt she’d tossed over the side of the bed a good twenty minutes before he’d worked up the courage to pop the clasp on her bra. “Oh my god,” she repeats as she stuffs her really very nice breasts back underneath the croptop. “Tom, can you stop having a panic attack for five fucking seconds, I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

Tom blinks, dazed, but it has the intended effect of forcing him to pull in three sharp breaths, drawing him right the fuck out of his swirling thoughts. He can see his own expression in the mirror over her shoulder, and is suddenly incredibly grateful they hadn’t managed to get any further. “You’re the biggest gossip I know,” Tommy snarks back, which is a terrible fucking idea when she’s just discovered the exact weapon she needs to completely obliterate him.

She cocks a hip, rolls her eyes, blows a crinkled lock of hair out of her eyes. “Yeah, dumbass, do you think the biggest gossip you know doesn’t know how to keep a secret?”

Which is a fair point, actually. In between makeouts and actual studying and bland stories about their day, she’s told him a litany of secrets that have never seen the light of day beyond their little bubble of privacy. Jerri Danvers secret abortion. The DUI Travis Evans dad had called in favors to have swept under the rug. Cheryl G cheating on her boyfriend with Cheryl K. Chris Harper selling ritalin and coke out of the mens room in D Hall.

(”What’s the difference?” he’d asked, like Evie had all the answers, and she’d rolled her eyes. Lethal, that eyeroll. “The price, idiot. Snow’s a lot easier to source.”)

It still takes him a while to really believe she won’t tell.

But she doesn’t. Week after week, game after game, party after party. He asks her to Homecoming half convinced there’s a secret plan to Carrie him in the middle of the gym, but instead she drags him into a bathroom stall in the girls room, fucks up the hair he’d spend twenty minutes slicking just right, unbuttons three buttons of his dress shirt and slips the loop of his tie around her own neck while she makes obscene noises and rattles the rickety stall wall. She kisses her bright red lipstick onto his lips and only drags him out once they have a crowd.

He carries her bookbag out to her car from her locker at the end of the day, and listens to her bitch about her older sister in med school, and lets her experiment with perming on his hair, gives the JT ramen noodle look a total of three hours before he attempts to wash it out and, failing that, brings a pair of clippers back to her place she that she can buzz all his hair off.

The make it through the holidays, and Valentines, and Tommy sends her an extravagant bouquet of flowers on her birthday, right in the middle of a pep rally, the delivery guy flummoxed as hell as every upperclassman packed on the bleachers hoots and hollers about it, and it’s not what he wants, not really, not quite, but he’d buy her flowers every day just for existing and allowing him to exist as himself for the few hours of privacy they carve out away from everyone else.

Somewhere in the early hours of dawn, three months before graduation, she finally gets him to admit that basketball star Jason Ledecky with his stupid long legs and his thick heavy Boston drawl is Tom’s exact brand of smokin’.

“You could do so much better than Jason Ledecky,” she tells him, and Tom laughs as he presses his nose into the give of her stomach.

“Also he’d beat the shit out of me for trying,” Tom says, and Evie gets the sad kind of quiet, like she does every time he skids away from talking about his dad, like she does every time he talks about his mother, quiet and soft.

“Someday it’ll be different,” Evie says, carding fingers through the hair that had grown back in time for the class picture, and Tom nods like he believes her. “Some day some guy with legs for days, with the biggest heart and the brightest smile you’ve ever seen is gonna sweep you off your feet and I’m gonna shake his fucking hand.”

Tom hums.

“And maybe show him my tits just to make sure,” she says with a gentle tug on his hair, and Tom laughs until he can’t breathe.

Tom can’t say why he doesn’t tell her The Plan. Prom comes and goes, and as graduation approaches Tom attends all the parties, sneaks up the lattice to curl up next to Evie on her bed on nights that his dad comes home smelling like he bathed in hops, settles the last of his business, packs a bag he hides far enough under his bed that even snoopy Evie wont notice.

His dad’s drunk on the day he graduates, and at the end of the ceremony, after they’ve all made a plan for a bonfire at the quarry, Tom presses a lingering kiss to the crown of Evie’s head, and while her friends all roll their eyes at Evie’s perfect boyfriend, Tom slips away, grabs the bag he’d left in his old gym locker, and he leaves.

_____

“Okay so at eighteen I’m not sure I knew there was even such a thing as bisexuality,” Evie says, sipping at her glass of wine and eyeing the half of Evan’s cheesecake he still hasn’t eaten. “And my tits aren’t what they used to be, anyway.”

Tommy and Evan both shoot her incredulous looks.

“Yeah, they’re still pretty good,” she admits around a laugh, and beneath the table, Evan’s knee knocks into Tommy’s. “You gotta admit, though, Tommy — I fucking nailed your type years before you ever did.”

Evan’s grin goes ear to ear, absolutely proving her point when he shifts to reach for the hand Tommy’s been resting on his knee for the last few minutes.

“That’s what the steak dinner was for,” Tommy tells her, and they share a look Tommy hasn’t shared with anyone in twenty years.

Evan slides the rest of his cheesecake across the table without having to be asked, and tucks himself neatly against Tommy’s side as Evie’s eyes go wide and happy.

[anxiousalienwriter]

I just had this thought as I'm writing that like what if Bobby taught Buck how to make like authentic Philly cheesesteaks? Because yeah, his time in Pennsylvania wasn't the best, his home didn't actually feel like a home. But Maddie did. And sure those drives from Hershey to Philly were long, but they were also some of the greatest drives of his life. It's what made him fall in love with driving. Talking to his sister, singing along to the radio with her. Having the open road in front of them and getting to think they were running away together, starting anew. They couldn't go all the time but that's what made it special. Walking around historic Philly, getting authentic cheesesteaks, and getting to see the bigger world, even if it was still just Pennsylvania. The drives home weren't as great. He kept knowing exactly where they were going, even though he tried to forget it. Focus on the warmth of now rather than the cold that awaited him. But every time his mood would dip too low, right around the halfway point. They'd stop and get whoopie pies. And it was enough. To know his sister cared about him, enough to try to keep his moods up as much as she could. Coming home was hard. Being home was harder. But those trips with Maddie helped to make it bearable. Survivable.

He tells bobby about this, one quiet evening. Both of them unable to sleep, Buck reminiscing on the past as he reflects on what he's built in LA. Buck forgets about it. Moves on. But bobby doesn't. He researches. He looks up how to make an authentic philly cheesesteak. He looks up how to make authentic specifically Pennsylvanian whoopie pies (he learns about the controversy surrounding the origin and thinks Buck would be proud.) He can't know exactly what it tastes like, of course. So he consults Maddie. She taste tests for him, working with him to perfect the recipes to what she remembers. And then finally, bobby presents Buck with his authentic philly cheesesteak and Pennsylvanian whoopie pies and Buck is instantly taken back to those long car rides. To those exciting trips. To those escapes and hints at freedom.

Bobby and Buck proceed to cry and laugh and share even more stories over the food. Bobby writes down the recipes, memorizes them until he can make them by heart. He passes them down to Buck, their own little family recipe book growing. The people who give you their food give you their heart, love is stored in the kitchen, etc etc.

And then eddie makes them for dinner when he proposes to Buck. He doesn't know what to make at first. But he does know how much Buck loves Bobby's cheesesteak and pies. Eddie knows that Buck knows how to make them, but for some reason he never does. Instead, he lets himself be pleasantly surprised every time Bobby whips them up. So eddie talks to bobby and maddie since Eddie knows the story. Of course he does. And these are as much their recipes as they are Buck's. So he gets their blessing to learn and use their recipes, practices with them for weeks to get the taste just right.

For the second (or third, or fourth, or millionth) time in Buck's life, he cries over Philly cheesesteaks and whoopie pies. But this time he also gets to kiss and say yes to the love of his life.

[vyla-and-the-pods]

Podcast Recommendations: What's the best podcast for a road trip?

Hello friends! For the last four years, I have been making commutes to and from my university for the breaks. The car ride either way is about 2.5 hours so I've tried my fair share of podcasts to keep me entertained. The biggest problem I've found? Volume. The highway is loud, cars are loud, and not every podcast is. So, for all my fellow serial roadtrippers out there, here are some of the best podcasts I've found for making that car ride feel a little shorter!

Wolf 359

A certified classic. Wolf 359 is a special podcast for me for many reasons but the audio levels really stand up against the road. The back-and-forth banter and elite humor of the characters really keeps me locked into what's happening while not distracting me from the road, a perfect balance! It's also a longer podcast, which I like for the road since it means I don't run out of content halfway through the drive.

Forgive Me!

Forgive Me! is a newer show for me but one I've really been enjoying. I think comedy podcasts are the best ones for me to drive with since I can develop a good balance between focusing on the podcast and the road. I've had to turn the volume up a few times for Forgive Me! but not drastically so. I will say if you're going to listen to this one make sure you queue up what you want to listen to since they have a lot of crossovers, I personally just like the main plot on road trips, but to each their own!

The Magnus Archives

I will say, The Magnus Archives can be 50/50. Audio quality? Superb. They make the quiet moments sound quiet but I can still hear it over the road? Magic. John's little pauses let me listen to my car to make sure nothing's wrong (I have an old car), it's a perfect system! But as every TMA fan will tell you, some statements are better than others. Listen at your own discretion and make sure you queue up what you want to listen to (if you want to skip a statement, take it out of the queue! You cannot skip it going 70MPH)

Midnight Burger

I don't think I would've become a Midnight Burger fan had it not been for my car rides to and from school. The dialogue is great against the road and the plot is heavy but not too heavy you'll miss details if you're trying to switch lanes. I can't recommend Midnight Burger enough, but it's definitely one you'll want to queue, there is a LOT of bonus content to sift through.

These podcasts are pretty mainstream, so no groundbreaking recommendations, but these are the ones that have stood the test of the highway. Please feel free to add your favorite 'road trip proof' podcast if I haven't listed it!

[illfoandillfie]

Advent 2023: Day 2

This one was an original idea that I had a while ago. It follows on from the other clone-a-willy fics/blurbs I've written. One and Two.

Warnings: references to pornography/masturbation/anal/oral, piv sex, sex toys (dildos), sex tape. Not properly edited.

It didn’t surprise you that Ben watched porn. He was an adult with a relatively high sex drive, a man who’d had access to the internet during formative teen years, of course he watched porn. You watched porn sometimes too, so there was nothing shocking about Ben doing it. But what caught your attention was the sort of porn he’d been looking at. POV style – the camera showing nothing of the man but his cock, and nothing of the woman but her stretched ass or cunt, occasionally tits depending on position. Admittedly, you didn’t know whether those examples were indicative of his habits. You never intentionally went looking for what Ben had watched. All you knew came from a couple of moments when you’d opened his laptop to a still open browser or walked in on him by accident. Perhaps it was just coincidence that the handful of times you had seen something, it was the same style. Afterall, Ben had showed you porn a couple of times (and vice versa) as foreplay or inspiration for your own sex and none of that had been POV, so he must watch other things. But it did stick with you that he liked the POV stuff, and every so often you’d remember that fact and wonder how you could use it.  

The opportunity came around his next birthday. You’d bought him something he could tell his friends about, but you wanted something a bit sexy too, something just for him. After your conversation about training, Ben had bought a second kit in a different colour and you’d been working on anal training, so you'd originally thought that your first time with the real thing would make a suitable present. But you’d gotten a little too eager a few months previous and had already crossed that bridge. It wasn’t quite as special now that you’d done it half a dozen times. So you were at a bit of a loss what to do, until you remembered the porn.  

You did your research as you waited for a suitable day to record, watching some examples to see what the framing was generally like and what might be included. Truth be told, even after watching half a dozen videos you didn’t totally get the appeal of the POV style. You much preferred being able to see everyone involved fully, but then your tastes trended a little kinkier than Ben’s - bondage and spanking scenes to his fairly vanilla preferences. Either way, Ben seemed to enjoy the premise and so you did your best to imitate what you’d seen the first chance you got, when Ben was out for an entire Saturday with his mates.  

You tried not to rush too much, despite being excited for Ben’s reaction and a little nervous about being on camera. But you wanted to get it right, so you forced yourself to stay calm as you set your camera up, doing a handful of test shots to check your positioning before you were satisfied with the framing. It would have been easier had the clone dildo had a suction base, but you made it work. Riding it seemed like the most sensible option for the type of porn you were recreating, so you figured you edit the video so it’d start with you already working your fist up and down the toy, spreading lube along it’s length. Most of the videos you’d seen during your research had cut in min-penetration if not with the woman halfway to a slightly unbelievable orgasm anyway.  

Once you were ready to go you stripped off and took your place on the bed in the spot you’d worked out. The lube was close to hand, just out of frame, so you squeezed some out onto your palm and raised the toy, trying not to giggle at what you were sure must look like a very rapid erection coming into view. With a steadying breath you got started for real, holding the dildo with one hand as you began to jerk it off the way you knew Ben liked. Then, when you felt you’d wanked it long enough, you moved over it, lining it up and sinking down onto it with relative ease. It felt familiar in the oddly unfamiliar way you’d become familiar with – filling you just the way Ben did but recognisably not him. You had no trouble riding it though, practically forgetting the camera was on you as you lost yourself in the rhythm of it, moaning and telling Ben how good he felt and how much you loved his cock. And then you came, legs going Shakey as you tried to keep the stimulation going until you were through it. Watching back made you feel a little embarrassed and a little perverted and more than a little horny. You hastily edited it, trimming out the awkward beginning bit like you’d planned, then watched it through to make sure you’d stayed in frame. By the time Ben got home you were practically ready to tackle him so you could have the real thing.  

Ben’s birthday fell on a weekday when you had to work. So you decided to leave the present where he’d find it while you were out. You knew you’d be distracted all day wondering what he would think of it, but it was worth it to surprise him. You just hoped he’d send you some sort of text when he’d watched it. Thankfully he did, though it took a little longer for him to find it than you’d have liked. He’d spent most of the day on the couch playing video games, only finding the laptop you’d saved the file on after he’d found your note wishing him a happy birthday and telling him there was a surprise in the bedroom. He probably wouldn’t have worked out the surprise was on the computer without your helpful post it note telling him to press play.  

He called you within the first five seconds.   “Y/N, I bloody love you.”  You laughed, “Hello to you too honey. I take it you got the videos then.”  "There’s more than one?”  “Yeah,” you laughed, “Well, kind of. See, I wasn’t sure if you’d like um,” you paused, realising you were at work and probably shouldn’t say words like cunt or arse out loud, “front or back more. So I wanted to do one of each for you but the back one was a little harder to manage while keeping it in the same, like, style. So I did the front one like that and then did a second one from behind but it’s easier to tell it’s,” you dropped your voice to a whisper and hoped no one was listening, “not you fucking me.”  Ben barely seemed to hear your explanation, groaning as he located the second video, “what time are you getting home?”  “Uhh, not for another few hours I guess. How come?”  “Just wondering if I have enough time to get off to both of them and recover. I’ve never, and I mean this with the utmost respect and love, I’ve never wanted to pound you harder than I do right now.”  You fell into giggles again, nervously checking around you and hoping you weren’t blushing noticeably.  “I’m serious Y/N. You’re so fucking sexy and incredible and god, just looking at how well you ride me has me so fucking hard. I want to ruin you. I want to fuck you so hard you can’t walk for a week and I haven’t even seen the anal one yet. The second you walk through that door I’ll be on you. In you.”  If you’d managed not to blush before you were sure you must be now, so tried to keep your voice as professional as possible, “Well I’m glad you like them. I look forward to this evening.”  Ben hummed, “I think it should be enough time. But I s’pose if I’m not quite good to go when you get here, then there’s two more of my cocks to get you started.”  You bit your lip to keep from whimpering or moaning and swallowed hard before you managed, “That sounds very reasonable.”  “If I wanted to be really mean I’d keep you on the line while I watch so you could hear me getting off to you.  You whined his name quietly, “Honey I’m at work.”  He laughed, “Sorry babe. You just really turn me on. I’ll show you how much tonight.”  “Okay,” you managed, “Happy birthday, love you.”  “Love you too. So much.” 

[jedi-bird]

I feel a bit like the catalyst that broke my mother in law this week. I'm not the one that went on the rant, but I think my little breakdown started things.

For the past year, my mother in law has finally decided she wants to get her health in order. And since she is a person who does not understand pacing or does things by halves, it's been multiple appointments almost every week since July. I'm fucking exhausted because I've been required (she's demanded really) to go to every appointment. I skipped one because I was feeling sick and she complained the entire time. To be fair, she needs someone to go with her. Between a combination of not listening, not understanding, and not remembering, she will walk out with no idea what was discussed. Some of it is being made worse by long covid symptoms, but to be honest she has been like this the entire time I've known her.

Now don't get me wrong. I love her and I'm glad she's my in law. But I'm hitting a breaking point since my partner got hurt and I've had to put off my own health stuff to help them both.

So last week, after three back to back appointments, three times in two days having to grab her so she didn't walk out in front of a car (she gets tunnel vision when thinking about things), multiple times reminding her that she can't walk with her hands in her pockets (she's a known fall risk), having to repeatedly tell her that no that was not what your doctor just said (partner did most of that thankfully but I had to speak to several times as well), and then getting judged because I wake up early yet again, I snapped.

I told her off. I asked a question and she refused to answer it, instead going off an some unrelated tangent, and I lost it. I told her that she always does this. That she refuses to answer questions. It could be a simple yes or no question and she'll give you an essay about something out of left field but never say yes or no. Examples include, are you hungry? Would you like us to pick up some food for you? Her answer, so last week my sister and I went here and got this weird food and it was so salty and then we did this and went here and she's got this new car that I think is stupid. Us, okay but are you hungry? Her, I wasn't when my sister and I went out last week.

So I asked her a question, she did her normal bullshit of not answering it because if you don't close all loopholes she'll find an opening to do anything but answer, I got mad and said "that literally has nothing to do with what I asked. What did I just ask you?" She rolled her eyes and repeated what I had asked. "Okay, so what's the answer?" Again, she goes off on some tangent, insisting that I should know what she means because it's an answer.

My partner, her child, immediately cut in because they are getting just as frustrated as me. "Mom, that doesn't answer anything. You continually do this and I hate it. Just answer the fucking question and then go off on a tangent." She tried to argue back that she thinks she answers and my partner lost it. They yelled, they ranted, they unleashed decades of frustrations in a five minute drive. She went quiet halfway through and only said, "well, I'm sorry you think I'm frustrating but that isn't my problem." Since then, she's been refusing to answer family text messages but sends lots of her own to us. She's been refusing to answer phone calls and refuses to do her taxes (all she needs to do is tell her accountant to go ahead and file for fucks sake). She claimed she got sick the other day, but refused to answer if she took her medication, what her blood pressure was when asked, and just insists she "too tired" to worry about those things despite almost setting the kitchen on fire "forgetting" she was cooking (she finally admitted that she did purposefully walk away from the stove after multiple people have told her not to and refused to give a reason why).

She's been tested multiple times for both dementia and alzheimers, neither of which she has. She was given some medication to help her with memory and focus and it helped significantly, but she's decided that it caused all the symptoms she had for years before starting it and keeps periodically stopping it without telling us; we know immediately when it happens because she suddenly can't function again and starts doing really stupid shit. She's turned her shared calendar off so we can't see if she's scheduled any appointments without telling us but then gets mad if we don't confirm if we're taking her. Several times now she admitted way after the fact that her blood pressure keeps going into the 80/50 range, which is extremely low and her doctors have told her is dangerous; she won't tell us when it happens, only says we should download the app she uses to track it (but won't tell us the name of said app) and refuses to answer the doctor's questions about what she was doing or eating in the days before that.

So yeah, I started the ball rolling that got her kids to go off on her and I feel guilty but I'm at my breaking point. I get no time to do anything here for me and can barely keep up with chores right now. I'm having to spend days every week at a place that I used to go to with my grandma when she had cancer and it's emotionally exhausting seeing the same waiting rooms during scans (mother in law does not have cancer, but some of her tests are in the same facilities). I'm rapidly running out of money and can't even start trying to get a physical job because of my health issues and the fact that it's only going to be me in a few months that can keep taking her; I can't even really work from home right now because I'm exhausted from spending six hours multiple times a week in cars and uncomfortable chairs while taking notes that she'll refuse to read and trying to keep track of all her stuff.

So I might have broken her and I feel guilty but also I kind of don't care. Part of me wants to go over for her ot appointment tomorrow so I can rat her out to the doctor about how she's making her life more difficult by doing stupid shit. But also, I'm not sure I care anymore. I'm tired and just want a break.

[forcemeanakin]

@enviedearThank you so much for indulging me in this particular fantasy!!! I loved reading your takes and if you let me, I'll be fangirling over them and adding my own takes as well!

Thoughts:

-I love that he doesn't have social media, that's so accurate. Anakin doesn't have time for that shallow shit I also think he would create an insta only to follow you back and see the pictures you have posted ... also he would only repost the insta stories you tagged him in, that's as far as his content goes

-HE WOULD TOTALLY HAVE A PART TIME JOB AT A LOCAL CAR SHOP OR SOME SHIT LIKE THAT AHHHHH

-he is a mechanical engineer major. its canon, its obvious, its right, its non debatable.

-MMPH- He totally drives stick !!!!! Pls let's take a moment to picture him making the gear shifts !!!!!!!!!! Looking through the rear view mirror !!!!!!! reverse parking !!!!!!!!!! I'm pregnant just thinking about it

-"an automatic is basically a go-kart. a fucking toy"

-'baby please come with me to get food. I'll buy you a treat.' PREGNANT

-"he needs to study in the library? he's asking you to come." I love this head canon even more when I picture that you don't actually have anything to work on or study for, but you just go to please him and that makes him EVEN HAPPIER. rubbing your calves as he studies, while you scroll through instagram, maybe read a book. sometimes you try to understand what the fuck he is doing and he tries to explain but loses you halfway into the explanation. so he just kisses you and let's you go back to reading.

-I live for Anakin playing the sims. I NEED TO SEE THAT

-how cute would it be that when it's his turn to play he tries to recreate you to? he'd try to make the characters fuck asap

-"if i get an a on this next test will you let me bend you over the desk?" WEAK. IM WEAK. SO REAL. may I please ask for a pic around this headcanon? *begging on her knees*

-star student for sure, but I also think he doesn't study at all??? idk in my personal head canon he is the type of student who does great naturally and doesn't need to study.

-"shut up, there was homework?" and proceeds to do the fucking homework in like 5 min when it took everybody else like 2 hours to complete the damn thing

-I LOVE A MAN THAN UNDERSTANDS NUMBERS. anakin i love you

-ofc he would point out every single detail that he thinks it's off. and he would explain how he would have done it better. just factsssss

Also just a couple of things I'd love to add, from my personal head canon:

-college!Anakin wears a shit ton of flannels. also a backwards hat is glued to his head no shit

-he will always pick you up from your night classes :))) you can hear his truck turning around the corner and you heart starts to pound so fast

-you two live in different buildings, but anakin would basically live in your dorm. coming to your room after his classes, leaving his calculator on your night stand (idk, I don't understand stem majors), having spare clothes on your closet that he barely uses wink wink

-he would try and stay in his own apartment once in a while, but one night he caves and drives to your dorm like a needy puppy, "sorry baby, couldn't sleep without you between my arms"

-did I already mention the truck? HE HAS A TRUCK AND ITS BUSTED AND IT NEEDS SEVERE WORK BUT ITS HIS AND ITS BLACK AND HOT AS FUCK

-and honestly, college!Anakin flirting would be fire with a few drinks in. so smooth and shit.

-fratboy!Anakin would brag about you in every party *cries*

ALSOOOO: also what if i said engineering major!anakin fic in the works...

what if I said I'm screaming with excitement at the possibility of more engineering!Anakin

I hope you do it honey! Pls tag me when you do post it! <3

i kinda wanna write one too, you just ignited something in me babe

thank youuuuu!

Hiii !! How are you? Pleasure to meet you!

I saw your engineering major!Anakin post and when I tell you I immediately twirled around on my bed and started kicking my feet like a fucking teenage girl… I’m not joking.

This is a headcanon that has been following me ever since I entered the beautiful world of Anakin Skywalker. Seriously. I even have a one shot about lmaoooo

Could you please elaborate on that? I would love to hear your takes, discuss them and just thirst over him together! Because god lord, I’m so grateful to found someone who was the same interest on engineer Anakin. Also bonus points for college student Anakin because that’s just hot as fuck

Thank youuuu

Mina

i literally am obsessed over this concept thank you so much for indulging me! i centered it over him in college mostly because— i just... it does things to me.

also what if i said engineering major!anakin fic in the works...

a few nsfw themes in here so minors dni i will block you &lt;3

he strikes me as the type of guy you'd see once on campus and then immediately try to find him on the university's social media accounts.

he wouldn't be fucking anywhere until you find the engineering college's Instagram account

it hasn't had a single post in two years but it's okay because you find one of him !!!

and the only picture of his face is so grainy, but he's in it and he looks so fucking hot at his computer and that's enough

also he's totally unapproachable

not that he's a dick or anything, he's just cussing out all his professors in his head and worried about his last materials exam

i think in his (very limited) spare time he'd be into either metalworking or cars... probably both

like i think he could fix almost any car-related issue without having to go to a shop

axel on his car goes out? yeah he's ordering the part and putting it on his damn self

his motor blows up? he's spending his summer rebuilding it while taking sixteen hours of summer classes

and if he does have to go to a shop, it's strictly because he doesn't have time and he most certainly will pop the hood and check their work

also i believe he'd like stick shift

literally won't buy a car unless it's manual

"what the fuck is the point of an automatic"

he totally also learns how to tune in his free time and everytime you hear a car speed by you on campus you just know it's his work

now, if you're lucky enough to catch his eye i truly believe he'd be so fucking consumed by you

he'd ask you to go everywhere with him; he needs to study in the library? he's asking you to come. he has to give a dissertation? he's begging you to come watch him. it's 3am and he just finished his statics project? he's calling you like, 'baby please come with me to get food. I'll buy you a treat.'

also the biggest and most clingy bf ever in the history of the world

will stop doing his work to come watch you play the sims and just hold you (also tells you how to build a proper house despite you bing like,, "ani... the fun part is making them get into trouble not making sure their roof is durable.")

also likes to be incentivized with you

"if i get an a on this next test will you let me bend you over the desk?"

or, "i'll study better if you let me taste you, please baby?"

star-student, no question.

and he's so fucking smart it's a bit annoying because he'll bitch and moan about how bad he's doing while getting on the dean's list every year

the way he explains what he's working on is hot as fuck

numbers make sense to his mind in ways you will never understand, but good lord is it nice to watch his smart little mouth move

type of man to take you on a date into the city and point out the shitty infrastructure

"for as much rain as we get you'd think these fucking idiots would have put more drains."

"that bridge is due to fall in less than ten years, what the fuck were they thinking."

he's just the smartest boy, and you make sure to tell him any chance you get not that he agrees but he'll always say, "thank you pretty girl"

[gogogodzilla]

If you take asks for Connor, I'd like a story where basically reader does connor so hard he short circuits or something along those lines and reader is like "omg are you ok???" And after a moment, he's like, "very" idk I hope I explained it well

Missed You || Connor (RK800)

Summary: You couldn't wait for date night.

Warnings: smut, afab read, semi-public sex, fingering, slight choking, Connor has a praise kink, argue w the wall

{Masterlist}

After a few months of dating, you and Connor had developed some form of a schedule. Every Saturday was date night, and this week had you particularly eager for it to arrive. You’d barely spent any time with Connor with him being stuck on a case that had him halfway across the city for most of his days and working late nights. 

Saturday night rolled around like it always did, and you paced your shared apartment in anticipation of Connor arriving. You’d both agreed on just going to a movie. It was the one you’d been dying to see, so you weren’t complaining.  

The sound of keys jingling against the lock had you practically sprinting to the front door and flinging it open. Connor looked down at you with wide eyes, his keys hovering mid-air. 

You grabbed the lapels of his usual suit jacket and brought him into a kiss. He let out a small sound of surprise against your lips but quickly melted into your grasp. He wrapped his arms around you as he nudged you further into your apartment and kicked the front door closed. 

“Missed you,” you murmured against his lips as you ran a hand through his hair. 

He slowly pulled away, taking in your features. “I just need to get changed and then we can go,” he offered, patting your hip as he released you. 

You wanted to say to hell with date night and just ravish him where he stood, but you forced yourself to nod. It’ll be worth the wait, you tried to convince yourself. 

The tension in the air was palpable as Connor emerged from the bedroom, rolling up the sleeves of his button-up. Your gaze traveled up his forearms, taking in every inch of exposed skin. He had the same idea, and his eyes raked over the hem of the dress that danced across your thighs as you shifted your weight from foot to foot.

You forced yourself to look away as you moved to grab your car keys and tossed them to Connor. “Ready?” you questioned, ignoring the way your heart was practically bursting out of your chest from the way he was looking at you. 

“Always,” Connor responded, kissing your forehead as he passed and grabbing your hand to lead you to the elevator. 

You eyed the emergency stop button as you stood far too close to Connor in the cramped elevator. No one would even notice the elevator was stopped for a few minutes, you reasoned.  

Ding!

The chime of the elevator caused you to nearly jump out of your skin, and Connor shot you a look. 

“Are you feeling okay? Your heart rate has been high ever since we left; we don’t have to go to the movie—” 

“No!” you cut him off, even though every fiber of your being was begging you to drag him back into your apartment. “I’m fine,” you assured him, resting your hand on his arm and keeping it there for far longer than you should have. 

He raised a brow, eyeing you. You ignored him and led him out to your car before hopping in the passenger seat. 

Connor wordlessly hopped into the driver’s seat, and you watched him. You wondered if the long week apart was affecting him as much as it was affecting you. You saw how he was practically undressing you with his eyes when he came home. His usual precise movements were far more controlled than they usually were, stiffening every time your skin came into contact with his. It couldn’t hurt to test the waters. 

Connor always set his right hand on the gear shift or your thigh when he was driving, and today was no exception. He loosely gripped the gear shift as he drove, gaze never leaving the road. A wise decision. 

You took his hand and placed it on its normal spot on your thigh. He glanced over at you. You could’ve sworn you saw his free hand tighten on the steering wheel, betraying the small smile that flashed across his lips.

A few minutes of comfortable silence pass, and you decide to push your luck a little further. 

“Are these pants new?” you causally questioned as you leaned over and ran a hand down his upper thigh, giving him a perfect view down the bodice of your dress. 

Connor cleared his throat and swallowed hard, “They’re the same pants I always wear.” 

You hum and move to return to your seat, your hand accidentally grazing over the place you wanted so badly. Connor sucked in a breath as he approached the red light. You grinned, bathed in crimson. 

“Connor,” you purred, lolling your head to the side to look at him. The light turned green and he pressed on the accelerator, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. His eyes grazed the bare skin of your thighs before returning to the road. 

Your heart rate picked up as Connor turned down a side street in the opposite direction of the movie theater. You weren’t going to make your showing.

Connor’s movements were controlled as he picked a secluded spot to park. You were on him before he could even fully pull the keys out of the ignition, clumsily climbing over the center console. 

The keys tumbled out of Connor’s hand and clattered to the floorboard, but he didn’t seem to care as he pulled you in for a heated kiss. He pushed the seat back so you could comfortably sit, legs straddling his thighs and skirt hiked up just enough to tease him. 

“Couldn’t wait,” you murmured against his lips as you pulled away, your breaths entangling in one another. 

“You’ve been looking forward to this movie all week,” Connor teased, running a hand up the bare skin of your thigh and cupping the curve of your ass. 

You dipped down and hovered next to his ear, whispering, “I’ve also been looking forward to riding you until you short-circuit.” 

Connor’s grip tightened on your ass, and he shoved your hips down to grind against him. The tent in his pants pressed against your clothed core and caused a shudder to run through your body. 

 “Do you feel what you do to me?” he questioned, voice husky and increasing the ache in your core that had gained intensity since you left the apartment. 

You nodded, leaning down to kiss him and run a hand over his covered length. Connor jutted his hips up to meet you, groaning as you ran a hand over the smooth fabric of his pants. His nails raked up your thighs and he hooked his fingers on the waistband of your underwear and tugged hard enough for the side seams to rip, and for them to fall in his lap. 

Your gasp was quickly swallowed by his lips against yours and his fingers sliding through your folds and circling your clit. Breathy moans escaped you as you shoved your head in the crook of his neck, lazily pressing kisses to the hardly exposed skin. 

He ran a finger over your entrance and you pressed against him, begging for him to fill you. He obliged, slowly inching a finger inside of you before quickly adding another, stretching you deliciously. He pumped his fingers, savoring the way you clenched around him, aching for more. He curled his fingers inside of you, brushing against the spot that had you seeing stars, and you cried out his name, throwing your head back. 

“Fuck me,” you whimpered, grinding yourself against his fingers when he stopped his movements. “Please, Connor.” 

He removed his fingers and slipped them past your lips, making you taste yourself. You ran your tongue over the pads of his fingers as you met his gaze. He used his free hand to undo his belt, the smooth leather brushing against your thighs. 

You reached down to where your hips met, unbuttoning his pants and yanking down the zipper, impatience coursing through you. You released his length from his pants, eliciting a breathy sigh from Connor. You pumped your hand, thumb sliding over his tip and spreading the bead of precum that had formed. 

You aligned him with your entrance and you both groaned as you lowered yourself onto his length, savoring the way he stretched you. You started rocking against him, flushing as the suspension of your car squeaked with your movements. 

Connor gathered the skirt of your dress in one hand and watched as you ground against him. You dipped down to kiss him, reaching up to rest one of your hands against his throat. He twitched from within you, and he snapped his hips to meet yours. 

“So good for me,” you praise, squeezing his throat lightly as he looked up at you, eyes unfocused and mouth hanging open. 

His hands found your clit and resumed the same tight circles as before. You released your hold on his throat as you rocked your hips into his, feeling the familiar heat pooling in your stomach. 

It took no time for your release to hit you, Connor’s length finding the spot that had you moaning his name over and over again. Your release caused you to squeeze Connor’s cock, pushing him to finish directly after you. Connor lifted his hips to meet yours, and threw his head back, letting out a guttural moan. His whole body froze and tensed under you as his climax washed over him. Connor twitched inside of you as you slowed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

After a few moments, when his eyes still hadn’t opened, you brushed a finger over his chest, relief washing over you when you felt the familiar thrumming of his bioregulator. 

“Connor?” you murmured, tapping his cheek lightly. “You alright?” 

His lashes fluttered as he slowly opened his eyes, a small smile curving into his features.  “Did I say how much I missed you?” he hummed, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“No,” you mentioned, chucking, “although, I think I have an idea.”

[cherryc1nnam0n]

Nasty Stepbro | Stepbro!Eddie Munson x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Your bestie insists in studying at your house but what she doesn't know is that your Stepbro has a high sex drive and can't wait until she leaves...

Cw: Voyeourism, public sex, shameless Eddie, nasty Eddie, stepcest, cum, unprotected sex, p in v, lots of sex everywhere

Part two Part three

You just got out of school, your senior year has been kicking your ass, it's the second time you're trying to graduate and it's been horrible, you're walking down the street with your best friend, the only one that has gotten you through this stupid town and year

"Come on! Your house is just right around the corner! We're better if we study there!" She insisted

"I don't know... My brother is home..."

"What wrong with that? I know him already, Eddie is so cool!"

You bit your lip, you didn't want her to know what you and Eddie had been up to when your parents weren't home and late at night too

"It's just that, he's, I don't know, I don't wanna make you uncomfortable"

"What? No way! I'll be fine!"

Memories flooded your mind of Eddie thrusting into you from behind

"You can't tell your mom baby, fuck- no one can know about this" he said as he fucked into you

You finally get home and he's sitting at the couch, watching TV as always

"Oh hey Y/n, who's your friend?" He asked feigning innocence

You introduced them and went to the kitchen to study at the table, you had a huge test coming up and it was so important for you to pass

When you were halfway through your summary, Eddie came in, he had no shame, he was just wearing some grey sweatpants, his hard dick outlining on them

"What you studying?" He came behind you, subtly massaging your shoulders

"History..." Your friend replied

"Hmm, boring"

You ignored him, but his lips started to kiss your neck and down your chest, pulling down your shirt and bra to suck on your tits, right in front of your friend who tried her best to look away, anywhere but you guys

"Just keep doing your thing, I need some release"

Soon you were getting pounded into oblivion by Eddie, his dick was hitting your sweet spot everytime and it was delicious you didn't care about your friend watching you guys, Eddie's cock was all that was in your head

"Hey Y/n, can you help with this? I can't find answer for number 5"

"I-it must be in... In there somewhere ah" you said trying not to moan, but Eddie was relentless in his thrusting

Bent over the table, boobs squished onto it, your eyes rolling back, it was a fucking show to your friend, you felt your orgasm crash onto you and soon Eddie came inside you

"Fuuuuck, good girl sis" he said riding his orgasm away, pulling out and then fixing your clothes "I'll be right back, you guys keep studying"

Your legs were shaking and thighs sticky with his cum and your's

"That was..." Your friend started

"Yeah... I told you I didn't wanna come here..." You said looking down

Later...

You were watching TV with your friend when your step brother walked in, yawning ridiculously loud

"What are you watching?"

"A family show"

"Mmmm"

Soon he was fucking you so deep your eyes rolled back with every thrust, his dick was perfect and so big and thick it stretched you out so good

But your friend wasn't having any fun, she was hella uncomfortable and wanted to leave, so she made a run for it

"Alright, goodbye guys" she said taking her stuff and making it to the door

"Bye!" Eddie said before you

"B-bye!" You moaned out

"Now that she's gone, let's have real fun"

You hated your brother, but his dick made you feel so good...

[midsummernightwrites]

scream and shout

pairing: bradley “rooster” bradshaw x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: pretty angsty, they both fight and yell and swear and say some harsh things, reader is insecure about some stuff, they do make up in the end so yay happy endings

summary: roos didn’t come like he promised you he would and maybe you can understand why he wasn’t there but it still doesn’t stop the angry words and hurt feelings from exploding when he returns home 

notes: i stayed up way too late writing this in one sitting and i quite like how it turned out so enjoy

As you left the school alone, you couldn’t remember another time you had been this upset with your husband. 

Both of you hated fighting and while you bickered every now and then like all couples do, you prided yourselves on your ability to talk things through before they built up to an explosive argument and extremely hurt feelings. 

But right now, as you tried not to cry while digging through your bag for your keys, all you could think about was what you’d say to Rooster once you saw him. 

“For fucks sake,” you swore as your keys fell from your grasp to the asphalt. When you bent down to get them, you felt your phone buzz with a text. 

roos: honey i’m so sorry training just wrapped up

roos: can i still meet you at the school? 

You scoffed as you climbed into your car, tossing your bag in the passenger seat. You debated ignoring his text all together, but the humiliating thought of Rooster showing up and going inside when the meeting was well over was enough to get you to reply. Nick’s teachers were probably already questioning your ability as parents, you didn’t need to give them anything more to think about. 

y/n: already finished

y/n: see you at home

Bradley tried to call twice on your drive home, but you just ignored him. You were barely holding your tears back as it was.

You beat Bradley home, thank god. Since Nick was currently at Penny and Mav’s place, you decided to take advantage of the quiet house. A part of you hoped that maybe after cleaning and tidying up, you’d be a bit more calm and clear headed. 

When Bradley walked in halfway through you emptying the dishwasher, you knew that wasn’t the case. 

“Baby, I am so sorry I missed the meeting. We were running some flight tests and things just ran over and-” 

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it Bradley,” You cut him off, slamming the cabinet shut a bit too loudly. “You should have been there.”

“Y/N, I know I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to miss it, I really wanted to be there.” Bradley’s voice remained calm, but it was clear he was thrown off by your reaction. He dropped his bags and stepped closer into the kitchen. 

You grabbed another plate to put away. It felt a bit childish, but you didn’t want to look at him yet. You wanted to act like you didn’t care enough to stop what you were doing and talk with him about it. A teeny tiny part of you wanted to make him feel as disrespected as you felt and that part of you was in control.

“Yeah right,” you mumbled, drying the excess water before putting the dish in the right spot. When you turned back, Bradley had moved closer, standing on the other side of the kitchen island. 

“What is going on Y/N? I didn’t plan on missing the meeting, stuff came up at work, and I’m really sorry I wasn’t there,” Bradley explained, his eyes trying to meet yours as you looked down at the still open dishwasher. “Why are you acting like I did this on purpose?”

“Because it honestly wouldn’t surprise me if you did!” You snapped, crossing your arms as you finally looked at your husband. “I mean, for fucks sake Bradley we rescheduled this conference three times after work stuff kept coming up. What am I supposed to think?”

“You can’t be serious.” Bradley’s tone dropped as your words made their desired impact. 

“Of course I am! I felt like a fucking idiot walking into that school alone tonight. We waited fifteen minutes before getting started and you still didn’t show. Do you know how humiliating that felt? After already canceling and rescheduling so many other times just so you could be there and then you still don’t even fucking show up! Forgive me for thinking you didn’t care!” Your voice got louder with every word until you were shouting by the end. 

“That’s fucking ridiculous Y/N, you know I care,” Bradley snapped, his arms matching your position. “You know what my job is like, a lot of it is out of my control. I can’t always be there even when I want to be, you know that.” 

“Oh yeah, just use your job as an excuse again.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s always the Navy’s fault, never yours.”

“It’s how my job is Y/N and you knew this going in!”

“I didn’t think it would mean picking up all the pieces and doing the majority of the parenting. I didn’t think it meant being the only one to attend these meetings or schedule his appointments-”

“If you were so mad about all this extra work why didn’t you say anything!”

“Because I shouldn't have to tell you! I shouldn’t have to tell you to care, to be there. You should know to be there at Nick’s fucking parent teacher conferences, especially when they’re telling you that your son might need testing to see if he has a learning disability!” 

“What?” Bradley’s arms fell to his side as he processed your last statement. 

“Yeah, they wanna try to get him on a 504 or an IEP. They think he might have dyslexia, maybe ADHD,” You didn’t notice Bradley start to walk around the counter as you continued your rant. “They explained in depth all the reasons and signs they were observing at the meeting, which you would know if you were there.”

“What, what does that even mean? What’s a 504 or IEP?” You rolled your eyes and Bradley snapped before you could share your next jab. “God, I’m so fucking sorry I don’t know what those terms mean. I’m not a teacher like you, I don’t know this shit off the top of my head.”

“Yeah and that’s why you should be there so you’d know that they’re freaking government protected learning plans to help Nick because he’s struggling that much in the classroom.” You took a small step back as Bradley got closer. You didn’t want him to get too close because it meant he might start to see the cracks in the walls you were trying so hard to put up and hide the real insecurity powering this fight. 

“Okay, look, I’m sorry I wasn’t there, obviously if I had known there were these concerns I would have been there.” Bradley has paused a few feet away.

“Yeah, well, you should have-”

“What Y/N? I should have seen all the signs, I should have known he was struggling at school? I get it, you don’t think I care, but you weren’t talking about any of this to me either. Did you pick up on it, did you know?” 

“No Bradley I didn’t! I know, I’m a horrible excuse for a mother. I didn’t fucking see any signs that my kid was struggling even though I see them all the time with my own students. I was just as thrown off during that meeting and looked like a failure for not seeing that my own son needed help.”

You brushed your hair back in frustration and made the mistake of looking over towards your husband. 

You looked Bradley in the eyes and saw the recognition there. You knew he was starting to see the deeper issue, the real reason behind your fight and you didn’t want to deal with that, not now. 

“Look, just go change and pick up Nick from Maverick’s so I can finish the dishes,” you muttered, turning to put a glass away. 

“What? No. Hey, Y/N, we’re not done talking about this.” You barely recognized the softer tone of his voice as you tried to ignore his attempt to make his way closer again.

“Oh my god, yes we are!” 

You slammed the glass cup against the counter and it shattered. Glass spread all across the countertop and fell to the floor in tiny pieces. You took one step back as you heard Bradley mutter “shit.”

Fuck this evening was a disaster. 

You didn’t even realize you were crying until Bradley was right in front of you, brushing your tears away. “Did you get hurt sweetheart?”

He gently grabbed your hands, looking them over for any cuts or pieces of glass. You tugged them away, shaking your head. 

“No, god, Bradley, I’m, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean any of that, I can’t believe I even said some of those things, you’re such a great father and I, fuck, I’m so sorry.” 

Each apology or phrase was broken up by a hiccup as you continued to cry. You cried because the glass was broken and made a mess. You cried because of all the things you said to the man you loved. You cried because you didn’t know your son was struggling. 

“Hey, hey honey, look at me.” Bradley waited a second for you to meet his gaze before wiping your tears again. “I forgive you, I’m sorry too.”

He pulled you closer as you started to weep more. You cried into his shoulder as his hand created soothing patterns up and down your back. You felt him take exaggerated deep breaths to try and help your body calm down. After a few minutes, once you felt calmer, he continued your conversation. 

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he spoke softly. “We’re gonna finish cleaning up the kitchen and then we’re both going to get changed into something comfier. I’ll text Maverick and ask if Nick can stay there for a little longer and then we’ll go on a walk and talk about all of this with clearer heads, okay?”

You nodded and felt Bradley place a soft kiss on your head. As you broke away to finish cleaning up the mess, you knew that everything would work out. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too Y/N.”