#full size jeep parts

[sundrop-writes]

BRAINWASHED

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

Everything’s clean - except for my thoughts. (Thinking about me getting you off.)

Can’t stop thinking you got me B R A I N W A S H E D .

Summary:

Stiles likes you. He really, really, really likes you. It's bordering on obsession, but he likes to believe that he has it under control.

So when you accidentally leave a pair of your panties in his presence, ripe for the taking, and they're in his backpack faster than he can blink - he realizes that he might not have it as under control as he would like to think. But he can't find it to be too much of a problem when he has those panties wrapped around his cock.

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Best Friend!Fem!Reader. Pining!Stiles/One Sided Fantasies. Panty Stealing. Smut/PWP.

Word Count: 8,000

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns and is described as having a vagina; Stiles and the reader have been best friends since childhood and they are in high school now (they are both the same age) (for argument's sake, they are both 18, but the horny parts were motivated by the hotness of a 20-something actor so idc what age you interpret the characters as); the reader's looks are mostly undescribed and left neutral in terms of race, hair texture/colour, height, etc. however the reader is implied to be fat/plus sized; mentions of the reader wearing dresses and tights (things that the other characters on the show would typically wear); mentions of the reader having a cat - I did not give the cat a name so you can imagine it's the same as your cat's name/what you would want your cat to be called if you had one; use of Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); brief mention that the reader would like wearing bikinis; the reader calls Stiles 'good boy' in non-sexual contexts and it turns him on; mentions of Stiles looking up the reader's skirt when she doesn't know it; some slight dubious consent because Stiles steals the reader's underwear without her consent and uses them in a sexual act (his masturbation); masturbation (Stiles touching himself); this is a one-sided/pining fic - all the sexual acts take place inside Stiles's mind as sexual fantasies while he masturbates; the reader character is described in these sexual acts as they play out in his mind, so that's why she is included heavily in the warnings; Stiles is submissive (even in his own fantasies) and he fantasies about the reader being dominant toward him; Stiles becoming aroused by the idea of the reader not shaving her pussy; technically there is edging - because Stiles edges himself to make his fantasies last longer; panty sniffing (though the panties Stiles took are freshly launder and not used ones); scent kink/sweat kink - Stiles likes the way you smell, including your sweat; kinks and sexual acts mentioned only in Stiles's fantasies (taking place only in his mind in this fic): car sex (in the back of the Jeep (typical, I know)), fingering (reader receiving), degradation kink (Stiles receiving - he likes the idea of the reader insulting him and being mean to him); pussy eating (Stiles fantasizes in depth about this); Reader makes a joke about spanking Stiles and Stiles has a small fantasy about being spanked by her; I think that's finally it.

A/N: Title for the fic comes from the song Brainwashed by Waterparks. Warning - Stiles might be a bit OOC in this because I wrote it before I started re-watching Teen Wolf again (and before I started watching Season 1 for the first time, because previously I had only seen 3B and beyond). In this, I have said that he's flunking classes and he's not really great with studying, while in the show, he's really smart and bookish and really well studied - but it could just be chalked up to the fact that he has a huge crush on the Reader that is distracting him from studying. So, interpret it how you want. I hope that you enjoy it, and please read through to my end notes to find out about a potential sequel to the fic!!

...

Stiles was hopeless. 

That was the only way to describe his current state of being. Completely, utterly hopeless. 

He was a complete and total loser, hopelessly in love with his best friend. And he was getting more stupidly caught up in that crush every single day. And of course, he didn’t even have the courage to admit his feelings for you so that it could be awkwardly out in the open. So that the two of you could get the rejection part over with, at least. 

Basically - his feelings for you were slowly ruining his life. 

Stiles had been in love with you for as long as he could remember. Well, maybe not that long. 

See, you, him, and Scott had all been friends since the beginning of kindergarten, and naturally, Stiles always liked you as a person. He always thought of you as a good friend, even if he gravitated toward Scott more.  

But he distinctly remembered the first moment when he had started to develop a crush on you. It was a very special memory to him - the day when you shifted in his eyes from annoying, slightly nagging friend to a beautiful, fierce woman. 

It was the day when the three of you were out on Halloween night during the third grade - and that was around the time people started whispering about crushes in school, when people would have playground girlfriends and boyfriends that they broke up with every other week. That night, a group of eighth grade bullies began chasing the three of you, trying to take your candy. 

Without hesitation, you picked up the largest rock in sight and threw it at one of them, causing a large cut across his forehead - and you loudly told them to ‘fuck off’ (the first time Stiles had ever heard such a word when it wasn’t coming from his dad). They had run away, somehow terrified of a girl a foot shorter than them. 

That night, you had become his hero. 

And since then, you had been the only object of his affections. 

Of course, over the years, Stiles had plenty of opportunities to tell you about his feelings for you. He just… always felt too cowardly to do so. 

In seventh grade, he had come very close to asking you out to the winter dance - only to have Scott beat him to the punch. When he pulled Scott aside to ask him about it, Scott confessed to him that he also had a crush on you. This resulted in their first ever fistfight. The first ever true rift in their otherwise close, brotherly friendship. 

The boys didn’t speak to each other for days. Which, naturally, annoyed the hell out of you. Especially because, of course, neither of them told you why they were fighting, not wanting you to know that you were the source of the rift in their friendship. And to you, this only made the fight seem more stupid and immature. 

So finally, when you demanded it, they called a truce. They agreed that they didn’t want to lose their friendship or lose you. They didn’t want to make you choose between them when it wouldn’t make any of you happy. 

So Stiles proposed that the three of you should go to the dance as friends, which you loved, and they both got you a corsage, one for each wrist - and the three of you still laughed at the pictures of you holding each of their arms. 

Eventually, Scott grew out of his crush on you and moved onto other girls, and he loved that he got to keep you as a close best friend, someone he could go to for dating advice if needed. Scott kept trying to convince Stiles to simply ‘man up’ and tell you about his feelings, but Stiles kept that same sentiment they had concluded upon years ago. Telling you about his feelings would only ruin the friendship. Not just between you, but between the entire group - it would fuck up the pack. 

Though it felt like the more he tried to ignore his feelings for you, the more they festered like a tumor. While Scott was able to mature past his crush on you, Stiles only grew more intense, and more insane when it came to his ‘crush’ on you. 

Over the years, his crush on you had grown from something sweet and childish into something much more. When puberty truly took over and lust was added into the mix, he now had to deal with the fact that you had grown into a gorgeous woman. He could barely control his arousal when looking at you, hearing your voice, smelling you, talking to you, thinking about you - even simply being in your presence made something in his mind melt. And it was growing much worse with each passing day. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t wake up with a raging boner fueled by sexual dreams of you. 

And naturally, he would say that not telling you about his feelings for you was ultimately the best thing for him. He would steadfastly refuse to admit that him being distracted by all these fantasies of you was slowly eroding your friendship from the inside out. Slowly, bit by bit, his worst fears were coming true - your friendship was being ruined by his crush anyway. 

But he tried to ignore that. Even if you were the most gorgeous, perfect being ever put on the planet, he tried his hardest to simply enjoy the platonic version of you. He tried to act like he wasn’t stupidly, head over heels in love with you. 

He tried not to act like it. 

But on nights like this, it was just so hard. 

Tonight, the two of you were studying for an upcoming English mid-term that would be worth a decent portion of your final grade. 

Logically, Stiles knew that he should have locked himself in his room and forced himself to study independently. Or he should have taken up Scott on his offer to study with him and Allison. 

But no, he just had to ask you for your ‘help’. 

And you pitied him and said yes, because he was doing poorly in the class. The only reason for that being because it was one of the classes that he shared with you, and he spent all of his damn time staring at you across the room during it. He had tried to tell himself that he really would study tonight, that he would really take advantage of your intelligence here and now to get his shit together in order to up his grade. 

But no. That was just one of many daily lies that he told himself. Since the moment he had set foot in your bedroom that afternoon (and it was dark out now, well into the evening) - he hadn’t been able to focus on anything but you. 

Sure, sometimes that worked to his benefit. Hearing you recite Shakespeare, the words coming off your sweet lips - it did force him to focus on the material at hand for at least a short period of time. But it wasn’t like he was actually retaining any of it. He was just thinking about how gorgeous your voice sounded and how amazing you would be in an adaptation of Romeo and Juliet. One where he played Romeo, of course - and he would get to use someone else’s well-crafted words to romance you, finally getting to kiss you for the first time. 

Again - he was hopeless. 

Currently, Stiles was laying diagonally on your bed, sitting among a mess of books - the English textbooks, the assigned novels, the published copies of the play, along with binders of your notes and other notebooks, stray papers. He couldn’t pay attention to the notes he was supposed to be writing, not for a moment, not if his life depended on it. Not when you looked this stunningly beautiful while busy writing your own notes. 

With the soft lighting from your bedside lamp brushing across your skin, making that skin look even softer, you were a goddess-like vision sitting on the bed across from him. You were wearing the simple dress that you had worn to school earlier that day, your modest tights since shed off in the name of ‘comfort’ (and so that your cat wouldn’t rip holes in them while crawling across your lap, you had remarked to Stiles). When you had stood at your hamper and peeled them off your legs, Stiles had a hard time not letting the drool spill out across his chin. 

Your thighs were gorgeous. Thick, wide, spread out like a buffet for his eyes to feast on every single time you sat down. From his angle, laying down the way he was, he was up close and personal with the dimpling cellulite and stretchmarks you had there. The hem of your dress had ridden up when you had adjusted your position to get comfortable, and he felt absolutely spoiled by how much more of your thighs were revealed to him. 

A few times throughout the evening, he had to physically clench his fingers, tight, to remind himself not to reach out and touch. To remind himself that he wasn’t allowed to touch. The last thing he wanted to do was to creep you out by randomly reaching out and touching your thigh. But he wanted so badly to touch. 

How many times had he imagined what those thighs would look like bouncing and jiggling while you rode his cock? How many times had he imagined those thighs clamped around his head while he licked your pussy? (Far too many times for the good of his own sanity.) 

Not to mention the concentration spread across your face - you were so fucking hot when you showed off your intelligence. Hell everything about you was hot - your sweetness, your laughter, your sarcasm, even your bitchy side. But your bookish side had to be one of Stiles’s favorites. 

The way you would nibble your own lip when thinking, the way your brows furrowed slightly in thought. Everything about you - from the bra strap sticking out of the neckline of your dress to the chipped edge of your nail polish where you had chewed on it - you were a fucking vision. And Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off you, no matter how hard he tried. 

It was a wonder that you didn’t notice Stiles staring at you - not as often as he did it. 

Stiles felt strangely caught when you put down your pen and looked up from your notebook, then. He quickly scrambled to grab his own pencil and start writing something, to look busy. But of course, he just looked like more of an idiot when the eraser end began scraping across the page in nonsense patterns. 

“Stiles,” You scolded him with a sigh, a way he was used to hearing his name come off your lips. “Have you gotten anything done? I told you to copy down at least half my notes-” 

Of course. You pegged his blank page as simple laziness, rather than his brain slowly melting out through his ears due to his inability to think about anything but you (especially when he was in the same room as you). At least he hadn’t been caught staring at you in that creepy way yet. 

You snatched up his notebook to check his work, and his heart dropped - if you looked too carefully, then he would be caught. In the back of that notebook, there were about three pages of his name and yours in hearts, and a few times he had practiced writing his signature as ‘Mr Stiles L/N’. (He was a feminist, and he liked the idea of starting a new tradition.) There was even a drawing he had made designing your theoretical wedding cake, including a cake topper where he was Superman and you were riding on his back while he was flying. 

“Y/N, uh-” 

He quickly snatched the notebook back, causing a glare from you while he sighed in defeat. 

“Fine.” He shrugged, knowing that he had to admit to a smaller crime in order to cover up the larger one. It was something that he did with his father all too often. “I didn’t get anything done. I was slacking off. You caught me.” 

“Stiles!” You scolded him again, reaching out to gently smack his shoulder. “If you keep this shit up, you’re never gonna graduate!” 

Sadly, you were probably right. His crush on you was absolutely going to ruin him. 

“Well, you could just let me copy off you,” He replied, giving you a wide grin that let you know he was mostly kidding. 

You rolled your eyes in reply, and soon your gaze caught sight of the clock on your nightstand. 

“Well, it seems like you have wasted enough of my time for tonight.” You scoffed sarcastically. 

Stiles knew that you had intended this to be a joke - but he couldn’t help the twinge of pain the words caused in his gut. The idea that he was truly just a waste of time in your life. He pressed his lips tightly together to suppress a frown and didn’t say anything more, and then you continued. 

“It’s almost your curfew anyway.” You pointed out, gesturing toward the clock. You were right. Stiles hadn’t even noticed how late it was getting - too busy enjoying his time with you. “We’ll pack it up for the night - but you should meet me at the library tomorrow morning, early, so we can go over everything again before the exam.” 

Of course, you were still invested in the idea of him getting a good grade, even if that seemed unlikely to happen. 

“You’re gonna make me get up early?” He whined, hating the idea of missing out on even ten extra minutes of sleep. 

“Yes.” You stressed. “I want you there at seven o’clock. Sharp.” 

Your ultra serious voice ordering him around was undeniably a turn-on for him. No matter what sexual fantasies Stiles cooked up about you in his mind, he could never picture himself having full control over you. In fact, most of the time, he found himself covered in cum at the idea of you having complete control over him. And it was likely because this was how most of your friendship went - you told him what to do, and he did it. And that was a huge part of why he fell for you in the first place. 

When he didn’t verbally confirm the time, too caught up in his infatuation yet again, you let out a gentle growl of frustration. 

“Stiles!” You called out his name. “You have to be there at seven. So you can’t get out of bed at seven - you have to set your alarm for like six-thirty, got it? Don’t make me come over there and get your ass out of bed like last time.” 

This thought caused Stiles’s stomach to clench. 

The last time you had come to his house to wake him up for school (because he had agreed to help you with some bakesale project and you were pissed off that he wasn’t there early to help you set up tables and whatnot) - you had charged into his house in a fury. You had your own key, of course, and his dad wasn’t there to busy you with conversation or pleasantries. 

And you charged right up the stairs and nearly caught him with a hand around his cock, jerking off to a picture of you in a bikini from the summer before. And he had rushed to shove the picture in his nightstand and cocoon himself in the comforter to hide his body just as you made it to the top of the stairs, shouting at him for being late. Luckily, he had gotten away with the lie that he had slept in, rather than revealing the truth that he had been distracted because he had woken up with morning wood after having a heated dream about you. 

When Stiles didn’t respond yet again, you grabbed a smaller decorative pillow from behind you and lightly hit him with it for emphasis, causing him to burst into laughter. 

“Promise me you’ll be on time!” You said, smacking him with the pillow again. 

“Yes, yes! I promise!” He finally agreed, his face becoming pink from laughter. 

You dropped the pillow then, and leaned down, causing his eyes to inadvertently go straight to your cleavage while you gave him a gentle, friendly kiss on the forehead. 

“Good boy.” You responded, praising him for agreeing to your terms. Obviously, it was another joke. 

But these praising words combined with your lips even slightly brushing against his skin, along with your tits dangling so close to his face, had his cock swelling to hardness nearly instantly. He grabbed the pillow then, trying to look subtle as he put it over his crotch, desperately trying to hide the very obvious bulge that had popped up at the front of his jeans within seconds. 

He was lucky when you shifted your attention away from him, now busy with cleaning off the bed, gathering your textbooks in a pile and moving to put them on your desk in the corner. You being distracted gave him a few moments to try and mentally will his dick down, which worked slightly. Only slightly. 

“You could help me, you know.” You mocked him lightly - distracting him from his thoughts of baseball, trying to will the blood out of his cock. 

He looked up and saw you standing there with his backpack, putting away his textbooks and notebooks now. He had been so dumbly distracted by his own dick that he hadn’t noticed you taking the kind initiative to clean up his things for him too. 

“Right, sorry.” He jumped into action and did so, taking things from your hands and shoving them into his bag with haste. 

“You don’t have to rush out, I just need the bed cleared off so I can pick out my clothes for tomorrow.” You told him. 

“Wait - you actually pick out your clothes in advance?” He asked, thinking that this was entirely adorable, and explained why you were always so well dressed. 

(And it explained why you were always so punctual in the mornings while Stiles was usually a mess - running around his house still half-asleep, shoving his head into a shirt that he had sniffed to see if it was clean, shoving things frantically into his bag in order to get out the door five minutes late.) 

“Well you know not all of us are okay with just throwing on last week’s mustard stained tee shirt,” You said, playfully pointing to a mustard stain that he had on his shirt from lunch. 

He rolled his eyes in return, trying to ignore the slight twist of embarrassment that wanted to swell up inside of him at the comment. 

There had been a point where he used to make a very pointed effort to impress you. Back when his crush on you had first gotten serious - likely around the beginning of high school. He used to get up early every single morning, spending a lot of time being intensely picky about the clothes he wore. He drowned himself in cologne (until you had complained about it), he wore certain colors just because you mentioned liking them. But none of it seemed to garner any more of your attention than usual. 

And so, he resigned himself to be the loser best friend who would always just float at the corners of your life, drowning in his secret affection for you until some better, hotter guy came along and swept you off your feet one day. 

He was just glad that day hadn’t come yet. 

Stiles was hesitant to leave - he wasn’t done being around you for the day yet, too emotionally attached. But he guessed that he would need to get some decent sleep before waking up at the asscrack of dawn in order to see more of you the next morning. (Even if it would include the horrors of studying at the library.) 

“So - I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” He posed, ready to take his leave as he swung his backpack over his shoulder. 

“Ooh, wait one second.” You said, eagerness twinging through your voice. 

His heart pounded hard in his chest for a moment, wondering if this could be the moment he had been waiting so long for - would you stop him there, grab him by the shoulders and kiss him hard, and then tell him that you had been feeling the exact same way as he had for all these years? 

“Which one?” You asked, spinning around from your closet to face him, holding up two dresses on hangers. 

Oh. You were asking for his opinion about what you should wear to school the next day. 

“The blue one.” Stiles said, motioning towards it. “That shade of blue looks beautiful on you - it compliments your skin tone well, and it makes you shine. But ya know, you look gorgeous in everything. You could wear a paper bag to school and everyone would still be jealous of how amazing you look.” 

He rambled on for a moment too long, and realized that his genuine fondness for you - something straying too far into romantic territory - was slipping out. 

“But - uh, yeah. I’ll see you later.” He quickly added on, now eager to leave before you could make any further comments. 

Then he dashed out of your room and down the stairs, getting out the front door so fast that he practically left a poof of cartoon dust behind him. 

He got into the Jeep and tossed his bag into the passenger’s seat - which, he hadn’t realized was not even zipped up. (A habit you often scolded him for - going around with his bag unzipped.) Papers and books spilled across the seat and underneath it, and he let out a loud growl of frustration. 

“Idiot!” He screamed, scolding himself as he leaned down, trying to clean everything up. “Idiot, idiot, idiot!” 

Partially, he was feeling so idiotic because he had just been so vulnerable with you and you probably thought he was weird for it. Actually, that was mostly why. 

As he was picking up his things, he realized that - yup, he was missing his English textbook. He had forgotten it in your room. He heaved out a sigh and collapsed back against his seat. He could leave without it - but then he would get an earful from you in the morning about how he was ‘forgetful’ and ‘irresponsible’. Ugh. 

He got out of the Jeep again and shuffled his way back into your house - your mom was working late, so there was nobody there to question him running out of the house at top speed and then appearing back so soon. All he got was a curious chirp and a head tilt from your cat, who was sitting on the top of the stairs. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Stiles remarked to the animal, stopping for a moment to pet him. “I’m pathetic. But you can’t rat me out, okay? I know she thinks highly of your opinion and I need you to put in a good word for me. Got it?” 

The cat purred and pushed his face into Stiles’s hand, so he assumed that was a positive affirmation that he would root for Stiles - or at the very least, keep his secret. 

Stiles linger for a moment to scratch the cat’s furry cheek, and then he stepped over the cat and made his way back toward your room. He passed the closed bathroom door and heard the shower running, and he almost cheered. If you were in the shower, then you wouldn’t notice him slipping back in to grab his book, so you couldn’t scold him for being a forgetful idiot. 

He went into your room, and the second he made it through the mouth of your open bedroom, his eyes locked onto your bed like a hot target. Your clothes for the following day were spread out so neatly, and right there, on top of the blue dress he had suggested - there was a pair of lacy purple panties that were something right out of one of his fantasies. 

Stiles had thought about your underwear before - many times. Too many times to count. 

He had even caught small, passing glimpses of your underwear before - when you had worn dresses without tights and bent over in front of him. But he had only seen enough of it to determine the color, not to know if it was lacy or silk or cotton. And even that was enough to send him into a tailspin that had him rushing to the bathroom to relieve his aching cock. 

In the back of his mind - or truly, the forefront of his mind whenever he jerked off to thoughts of you - he always wondered what kind of underwear you wore. What kind of decorative wrapping your pretty pussy would come in if he ever got the other-worldly privilege of getting his hands up your skirt. 

Would they be simple, practical cotton underwear? Would they be cute? Would they be sinfully sexy? Would they be those underwear with the days of the week written across the front? 

But seeing this now - seeing the tangible evidence in front of him that you actually planned to wear purple lacy lingerie to school - it was something that had all sense draining from his mind as blood rushed to his cock once again. He barely had time to think about it - and he didn’t think about it. Because then, they were in his hands, in his pocket, and he was back in the Jeep, hiding his stolen goods in his bag and hastily zipping it up so he could slam his foot on the gas and race home. 

He didn’t even have a chance to think about the fact that he left without the textbook that he had gone back into your room looking for. He didn’t have the attention span to notice that said textbook was in a stack along with your own - almost as if purposefully kept there like an excuse to lure him back into your room, rather than clumsily forgotten by him. 

… 

When Stiles got into his room, he slammed his bedroom door shut behind him, now entirely frantic, and thankful that his father was working a late shift again. He sat down on the edge of his bed, his hands shaking with anticipation as he unzipped his bag and pulled out the thing he had so hastily snagged. 

His mind was warring with so many sensations. Guilt for taking the panties, paranoia that he would get caught, shame that he even had the urge to take them in the first place - but all of that was easily toppled over and forgotten in the name of lust. Overwhelming lust and arousal that he felt for you. Greed and joy at knowing that he had something so private of yours in his hands now - something so secret that he shouldn’t have. A perfect little piece of you. 

His little secret piece of you. 

He still couldn’t believe that this was the kind of underwear you wore on a daily basis. 

Just imagining that this was what you wore to school - thinking about the fact that this was what you were wearing under your clothes during your everyday interactions with him: it drove him wild. 

He easily pictured this pretty lace sticking to your cunt when you were wet, the lavender colored material getting slick and slightly darker, soaked through and visibly sticky when you spread your legs for him to see. He wondered if your pussy would be shaved or not - but you didn’t have a boyfriend, so currently, you didn’t have anybody to shave for. 

He remembered a conversation from a few weeks ago where Scott had wondered if he should shave his pubes for Allison and you had remarked that ‘putting a razor near your junk’ was ‘ill-advised and stupid’ - so you probably didn’t even like shaving your pussy on principle. 

This immediately put a picture in his mind of your pussy being covered in soft hair that matched the shade on your head - maybe a bit darker. It would clump together with your juices and become soaked when you got wet. The little hairs would probably stick out cutely from the sides of the bikini cut underwear, peeking at him. 

Your pussy would be the prettiest thing he had ever seen, he knew that for certain. 

Stiles imagined getting you in the backseat of the Jeep one night after a game. 

He would still be covered in sweat from his efforts, worn out from trying his best. Sure, he wasn’t the best player, but you wanted to ‘reward’ him for his efforts on the winning side, even if he hadn’t directly contributed to the win. 

So as soon as the game was over, before he even had time to change out of his pads or shower, you hauled him to the parking lot and shoved him into the car. His gear was only half-off, ditched hastily by your feet, and you were in his lap - a perfect prize after all the hard work he had done, sitting astride his already sore thigh muscles while you kissed him - hard. Your mouth greedily sucked the oxygen out of his lungs while you shoved your tongue past his lips, painting his tongue with your sweet spit - and fuck, it felt like he was made for this. 

He got sucked so deep into the fantasy - it felt so damn real. 

He imagined having his hands splayed out against your beautiful, plump ass, gripping you tightly, noting wanting you to separate from him for even a section. While you held on tightly to his face, sealing him into the kiss until his lips were sore. And you would only pull back to look into his eyes with glossy desperation and utter out: 

“Please, Stiles. I need you. I need you to touch my pussy.” 

And what else could he do but obey? 

So he would lift up your skirt - a particularly short skirt that you had worn with nothing else but a pair of knee-high socks. Something that you knew he loved to see you cheer for him on the sidelines while wearing. Even though it was a chilly night, you couldn’t feel too cold when you saw him glancing at you every single chance he got. Of course, those distracted stares had gotten him screamed at by Coach more than once. But he loved the way your skirt would flutter up in the nighttime breeze, teasing him. The way the fucking beautiful thick fat of your thighs would jiggle whenever you would jump around in order to cheer him on. 

He was a man of simple, divine tastes. 

So - he would lift up that perfect skirt to find those purple lacy panties underneath; to find the perfection of your wet cunt waiting for him, growing slicker by the second, more needy for him. You were humping yourself against his athletic cup, which his hard cock was practically dying inside of, bursting to get out of the hard shell of plastic to touch you. But he ignored his own needs for a few minutes longer in favor of yours. Reaching forward, sliding his fingers along the wet spot at the front of your panties, absolutely indulging in the beautiful gasp you let out when his touch grazed across your swollen clit through the fabric. 

“Stiles, please.” 

He could almost hear it - it was so fucking clear inside his mind. The way your voice would be so pitched with desperation, so perfectly needy curled around his name. He wanted so badly to hear it in real life. 

And he would push those panties to the side, pushing his fingers inside of your hot, wet cunt-

Back in the real world, Stiles’s cock gave a needy pulse, leaking into his boxers. 

He heaved out a sigh, his cock practically vibrating with blood. He had driven home the whole time trying to ignore that boner, but he simply couldn’t do that anymore. He just had to give in. 

He hesitantly put your panties aside - already feeling a strange sense of attachment to them - and reached to his nightstand, grabbing the bottle of lube that he had in the drawer. Shamefully, it was already half empty, mostly due to the fantasies that he had about you. He undid his pants and had them around his ankles in record time, and whipped off his shirt for good measure, knowing that he was quite a ‘splasher’ and not wanting to get cum on it to pair with that ugly mustard stain. 

He lubed up his cock more than a healthy amount, knowing that it would contribute to the fantasy of you being so wet around him. It was a distant fantasy that he would never actually get to achieve, but hell - a man can dream. Then he began to slowly pump his cock in hand, wanting to milk it and truly enjoy it, and he let his mind get back to work. 

He thought back to your place. A place he was comfortable, spent a lot of time at hanging out with you. 

He imagined that early that night when he had forgotten his book, rather than you being in the shower, he went back to your room and found that you had been getting ready for bed. You were rubbing sweet-smelling lotion on your arms, pulling back the covers, wearing nothing but a pair of cute little socks, a tiny camisole - where he could very visibly see that you weren’t wearing a bra, with the natural teardrop shape of your breasts bared to the eye, your nipples poking through the fabric - and those purple lace panties. 

When he would appear in the doorway, you would gawk at him and ask: 

“Stiles? What are you doing? Did you… forget something?” 

But you would be positioned half leaning over the bed, taking back the covers so it would be comfortable for you to sleep - and your ass would be unintentionally on full display. Your sweet pussy lips peeking at him from behind, the roundness of your ass so fucking inviting, daring him to leave bite marks across the beautifully fat flesh. 

And after a few moments of him staring so brazenly, saying nothing, simply drinking in the gorgeous sight of your body bent over, wearing so little clothing, wearing those perfect little lace panties-

(Stiles sped up his hand on his cock, the lube sounding downright sloppy in the silence of the room.) 

You would stand up to your full height, come to him in the doorway, put your face so close to his and say: 

“If you’re gonna spend so much time staring at me like a gaping idiot, then you should do something about it.” 

Stiles had to stop the swift movements of his hand and clutch his grip tightly around the base of his cock, making his entire dick throb hard as he edged off his own orgasm. 

He still wasn’t sure why the idea of you calling him an ‘idiot’ in such a brazen tone made him want to cum so hard - but he didn’t have time to unpack all that now. 

He grabbed up the panties again with his non-lubed hand. Something in the back of his mind thought that it would be a crime for him to get them dirty. Another part argued that he would absolutely love to get them covered in his cum, not clean them, and then return them to you. That it would be fucking thrilling to have you wear them in that dirtied state. 

Though he knew that would never fucking happen. 

If he returned the panties to you covered in his cum, then you would slap him, call him a pervert, and likely have Scott beat the shit out of him with his newly harnessed werewolf strength. Stiles pushed this thought to the back of his mind, though. 

Out of curiosity, he lifted the fabric to his nose and took a whiff. They smelled like fresh laundry - a nice lemony detergent. Of course they weren’t ones you had previously worn - they were a pair you had been planning on wearing tomorrow. 

He distantly wondered if that meant you would not be wearing underwear tomorrow, because he had taken your intended pair. And that could have led his mind down a whole different filthy track, but instead - he began to wonder what a pair of your dirty underwear might smell like. 

You should take a pair of used ones. A voice in his mind told him. Snatch them right out of the hamper. Come on, you’re over at her place all the time. She won’t even notice them gone. 

Terrible idea. Terrible rabbit hole. 

But what would they smell like? 

He wasn’t deluded enough to think that pussy smelled like roses. He had never been close enough to one - a real pussy - before to actually know. Yes, he was a virgin. He could have said that he was waiting, ‘saving it’ for you - but every other girl, including you, was smart enough to look past him. There were plenty of other guys who were better looking and more charming than him, and probably better in bed than him, that girls had chosen instead of him. 

He wondered if your pussy smelled like that perfect bit of sweat that you gathered at the end of a long day. Sometimes when he went to hug you before the two of you parted ways, he would catch a whiff of the tiniest undertone of musk, a good amount of sweat paired with the berry scented body spray you had put on that morning, and orange tic-tacs you had popped after lunch. It was a delectable combination. 

He imagined that your cunt would smell like that bit of sweat, combined with the blueberry body wash you used - the one he knew about and loved because of the time you had insisted he use your shower while stinking up a study session because he had skipped the showers after lacrosse practice when he was late to be with you. 

He imagined getting hints of that blueberry body wash smell coming off your thighs when his head was buried between them. What would your cunt taste like? That was a mystery he wanted to solve live. 

He could always imagine the other aspects so well. 

He could imagine the feeling of the heat under his tongue, the perfect feeling of your wetness mixing with his spit. He imagined getting to bounce your swollen clit against his tongue and while feeling your moans and cries of his name vibrate through your body as he pleasured you so well - the feeling of your pubes brushing against his cheeks as his entire face became soaked with your wetness. 

But the taste - that was something he could never conjure up in his mind, no matter how hard he tried. 

He knew that eating your pussy would be perfect. Not just because he would be giving you pleasure, serving you. But he so often dreamed of having his head smothered by your thighs, having you grab his head and shove him tighter into your cunt, you purposeful and demanding. You having that beautiful control over him while he drowned in your wetness. 

He knew that he would likely cum in his pants from eating you out if he ever got the privilege of doing so, and even if you laughed at him - stupidly, he would find that hot too. 

Stiles picked up the pace again, pumping his cock in hand evenly and firmly - even reaching down with the other hand to cradle his balls, gently rolling the flesh in his hand as he got lost in another fantasy of you. 

He imagined the two of you in his bed - textbooks forgotten and pushed off onto the floor, your dress hiked up around your hips, and again, those fucking purple lace panties. He was on top of you, hovering on his knees so that his hard cock wouldn’t brush against you (even through his jeans) while the two of you sloppily made-out. 

It wasn’t long before you pulled away from his kiss-swollen lips. 

“Stiles,” You purred into his ear, kissing along his neck. “You know, you’re so pathetic.” 

These words had his cock jumping, spurting out precum - in his fantasy, it made his underwear messy as you undid his fly. 

In the real world, it made his hand messy as he continued to rhythmically jerk his cock. 

“I’m not gonna let you fuck me.” You told him, contrasting these words with your intentions as you put your hands inside his waistband and shoved his pants and underwear down over his hips - down to his knees until his hard, throbbing cock was exposed. “Not until you prove yourself.” 

Before Stiles could ask the question, the beautiful, fantastic you that he had made up inside his mind gave him the perfect answer. 

“Get yourself off by rubbing your pathetic dick against my panties. And then - I might let you fuck me.” 

In the real world, Stiles let out a throttled moan - a choked sound that surely would have had his father knocking on the door to ask if he was okay if he was at home. And then he rushed to grab the panties again, and without even thinking, he used his sticky lubed up hand to position the fabric around his dick. It was a coarse roughness compared to the slick smoothness he had previously been feeling, but it did wonders to complete his fantasy as he delved back to the you inside of his mind. 

He started rubbing the slightly lube-sticky rough fabric up and down his dick at a very slow pace as he imagined it: 

Being perched between your thighs, with the fabric of the panties stuck to your wet cunt, his cock hard and leaking as he tucked himself right up against you and began to rub his dick against you in order to get off. Just like you wanted, just like you had ordered him to do. 

“Please.” Stiles chanted, the words leaking out of his lips, chanted into his empty bedroom as he pleaded to the imaginary you that would always have a hold over him - just as tight of a hold as the real you had. “Please, please - oh fuck.” 

He moved the fabric over his cock faster as he moved his hips faster in the fantasy, imagining how hot your pussy would feel against him, imagining your nails digging into his hips as you looked up at him with mocking and adoration in your eyes. He imagined you forcing his hips faster, trapping him in place with your knees bracketed around his thighs, showing him absolutely no mercy. 

“Please, please, please.” He chanted, knowing with a distant part of his mind that he must have sounded utterly delirious. “Please, Y/N, lemme cum-” 

“Cum for me, Stiles.” 

Confirmed by that fantasy version of you and truly unable to hold it any longer, Stiles arched up off the bed, cumming all over his own fist. Just as he had predicted, it was an utter, uncontrollable mess. He shot cum all over his stomach, and absolutely soaked the fabric of the panties - making a horrible mess of them. Which, the lube had definitely already done. He laid there for a single moment catching his breath before it truly hit him. 

Fuck. He had fucked up. 

You would definitely notice the underwear missing after a while and he certainly couldn’t return them to you in this condition. 

… 

Stiles spent the next hour in the bathroom, absolutely panicking over how to get them clean. Luckily, he wasn’t a total idiot and he looked up the washing instructions online - and after hand-washing them in warm water with a ‘gentle’ detergent (handsoap was the best that he could do), they came out perfectly clean. 

The only problem? 

Hang to dry. 

He set his alarm for early, earlier than you suggested, and prayed that he wouldn’t sleep through it. In fact, he set three more alarms just to make sure. He couldn’t have you or his father barging into his room to wake him up when he had a pair of your stolen panties pinned to his corkboard in order to properly dry them so that he could sneak them back to you in good condition. 

… 

The next day, he departed for school by 6:45 with the stolen goods hidden away in his bag, ready to sneak them back into your room later that afternoon. He made it to the library ten whole minutes before seven, and you seemed shocked that he was not only on time - but early. 

“Wow.” You said, having just gotten there yourself, spreading out your items at a table - including a tray with some coffees. “You know, Stiles, I am impressed.” 

“You don’t have to act so - so shocked.” He replied, partially interrupted by a yawn. 

You leaned over to get a pen from your bag, and Stiles’s eyes immediately went to your ass, unconsciously trying to spot panty lines through your dress and tights - wondering if you were even wearing underwear because he had stolen the ones you had intended for today. 

Focus, Stiles. Focus. 

“Well, if you weren’t here by seven sharp like I told you, I was gonna pour this in the garbage.” You told him, taking his coffee out of the paper tray and sliding it toward him. 

“You don’t have to be so mean.” He chuckled, airy and light - very secretly annoyed with the way your ‘mean’ streak affected him sometimes. Why did he have to be turned on by you scolding him and punishing him? Why? 

“Hey, if I’m not mean then you never get anything done.” You told him truthfully. “And you know how it works by now. Good boys get rewards and bad boys get spanked.” You told him, letting out a bright laugh - indicating that it was clearly meant to be a joke. 

But instantly, it shook his mind with imagery of you bending him over the table, ripping his pants down and spanking him until he came untouched and cried for mercy, forcing him to agree that he would behave and listen to you. He became downright dizzy at the thought. 

You meant it as a joke - he had to sharply remind himself. But the way you so casually called him a ‘good boy’, said that he was deserving of a ‘reward’ - it sent chills down his spine and already had his cock waking up. Too early. Bad rabbit hole. 

If he was any sort of brave, he would have pushed it more and asked you what kind of ‘reward’ you had in mind. But he wasn’t, and he was too tired to analyze the potential consequences. 

“Oh!” You said, as though suddenly remembering something. You moved to grab your bag again and Stiles closed his eyes to forcefully keep himself from staring at your ass. “You left this at my place last night.” You told him, sliding his English textbook across the table toward him. 

He was too busy trying to calm his own lust that he missed the smirk on your face - the mischief lingering in your eyes, the intention in your tone. He was too caught up, drowning in his own affections for you that he never would have pieced together that you had taken in and hidden it on purpose as a ploy to get him to come back. That you had put out some other bait for him to find. 

“Thanks.” He said quietly. “So - what do we need to go over before the test?”

“Everything.” 

Stiles groaned.

...

Due to much pressure, not the sequel has been posted. I am fully of the belief that this fic is complete and perfect on its own, but if you would like to keep reading, click on the link below. I highly encourage you to leave a comment before you press on, though, and tell me what you enjoyed about this fic since you have gotten this far.

Happy reading!

Keeping Reading Here: Stupid For You - Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

[eddiediazismyhusband]

Married Buddie Headcanons

==========

This came about from an ask by @mattsire and I have FINALLY gotten around to sitting down and typing them out— i would like everyone to know i now have a note in my notes app full of these with no context

==========

- everyone assumed buck would be the bridezilla, but in reality he was pretty tame compared to eddie who using the subtle excuse of “i never got to do this with my first wedding” to get his way on everything

- buck constantly made suggestive jokes about their wedding night in the weeks leading up to it, but when the night finally got there, buck passed out as soon as they reached the hotel room; eddie thought this was super adorable

- they don’t spoon in bed; they will spoon on the couch watching tv (alternating big spoon/little spoon) but when they lay down to sleep, they prefer to face each other so that the last thing they see before sleep and the first thing they see when they wake up is each other

- buck wakes up first every morning to make breakfast— he’s a big morning person anyway and he loves to cook for his boys— he absentmindedly hums or lightly sings as he cooks breakfast, and eddie will stand in the dining room, hiding behind the wall, to listen. buck has never caught him to this day.

- buck loves driving and eddie hates it, so more often than not eddie is buck’s passenger princess in the Jeep.

- eddie remains very professional when they are at work; there is the occasional stolen kiss, hand holding under the table, kiss on the cheek/forehead, but for the most part they stick to simply sitting next to each other whenever they can- their knees often pressing together. At home, however, eddie hangs off buck like a koala; as soon as he realized his feelings for buck, he could not get enough of touching/holding on to buck as often as he could, whether it be holding hands at dinner, wrapping his arms around buck from behind and tucking his chin over buck’s shoulder (or vice versa), cuddling on the couch, laying his head in buck’s lap, leaning his head on buck’s shoulder

- buck and eddie cannot agree on a shower temperature; they have only attempted the forray into sharing one time and ended up bickering about the temperature before eddie gave up and let buck win— they’ve never tried since

- eddie slips into saying spanish sweet-nothings to buck constantly, buck taking the time to learn all of them whenever he heard a new one

- buck will sometimes pull eddie close in his sleep so that their chests lie flush against each other and he can feel eddie’s heartbeat.

- they love going all out for their anniversary; fancy restaurant, night at a hotel, grand gestures. eddie likes to spoil buck and buck lets him because he knows how much eddie likes it

- buck is intento on following the anniversary gift list by year; hiding a secret clipboard on which he plans all future gifts for eddie as new ideas come to him (for their first anniversary, buck had gotten eddie a paper-scrap art piece that was a portrait of chris)

- eddie followed the anniversary gift list for their first anniversary only when he gifted buck official adoption papers for chris

- eddie kept his paper vows and keeps them in an antique box that was passed down from his abuelo; alongside it he keeps a small wallet-size photo that buck had taken of them early on in their friendship

- buck made a scrapbook photo album of their wedding and keeps it displayed on the coffee table as a coffee table book

- ik some people like the buckley-diaz hyphenation (and i am absolutely not against that at all) but i am one of the Buck Diaz girlies who hc’s that he drops Buckley altogether

- he and eddie have complimentary tattoos on their ring fingers; buck has an “E” for eddie, and eddie has a “B” for buck.

- buck also got a linework tattoo based on a photo of him, eddie, and chris tattooed on the left side of his chest, over his heart; in the same spot, eddie has “e-c-b”

- they both have their wedding date tattooed under their chest ones

- even after a fight, they don’t sleep apart, because buck has nightmares and can only be grounded by eddie holding him; eddie has nightmares too, but they are less frequent than buck’s

- their wedding bands are simply gold bands, but inside they are engraved; inside buck’s it says “have my back any day” and inside eddie’s it says “and you can have mine”

[achilles-rage]

thirteen crows: chapter four

summary: buck finally runs into grace, and then buck and eddie surprise you in your apartment.

word count: 2.4k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: i purposely made this vague so you can choose who’s who when reader is blindfolded lol, but if you wanna know who i imagined them as just ask hehe<3 enjoy💋

warnings: smut, non-con (but reader enjoys it??idk how to tag this), buddie breaks into readers house<3, descriptions of violence/murder (nothing too graphic), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

It was easy to get to this point. It didn’t take much to spike the not-so-secret drink Grace keeps under the bar counter during her shift. And it was easy to convince you to go over to Eddie’s for the night to hang out. 

They kept away from you for weeks; patiently waiting for a night that Grace has to work with Isaac. Every time they work together, Isaac walks her part of the way home; just until he gets to his own apartment, and then she’s alone the rest of the way. They know if they see Grace being rude to their sweet girl one more time, they won’t want to wait, so not seeing your pretty face is something they have to endure. They can’t risk being taken away from you.

They have everything meticulously planned. 

Grace is alone, at night, in a dangerous part of town. Check. 

The cameras in the alley placed almost halfway between Grace and Isaac’s house have mysteriously stopped working a couple weeks ago. Check.

Their soft girl is safely at Eddie’s house with many pictures taken of them and Christopher doing crafts, acting as an airtight alibi. Just in case. Check.

Now, all that’s left to do is wait.

Once Grace passes by the alley, barely even paying attention to her surroundings, Buck emerges from the shadows and grabs her. She tries to scream, but a large hand covers her mouth quickly, pulling her against a broad chest as she’s pulled deep into the alley. 

The last thing she sees is the mask. 

The last thing she smells is the metallic scent of her own blood.

“What are you?” These words are the last thing she hears. The voice is dark, and almost comes out as a growl as he holds the phone in one hand and the knife in the other.

“I’m nothing. I deserve this.” she stutters out, tears streaming down her face and mascara smudged all over her cheeks. Her last words. 

It took some coaching to finally get her to say the words; the proof is shown in the video, in the form of scrapes on her arms and legs, and the cuts littered across her pale skin, but it’s worth it.

Both Buck and Eddie know what she’s saying is true, even if she doesn’t quite believe it yet, and they want her to feel as worthless as she made you feel when she said those awful things to you.

As Buck is walking away, down the part of the street that he knows have no working security cameras facing the street, wiping the splatters of red off of his mask with his black sleeve, he thinks about you and Eddie. 

He imagines you laughing and smiling with him and Chris, and he smiles to himself. He imagines himself there, slowly spreading you open for them after Chris goes to bed, everyone's bellies full from your wonderful cooking. Having to make sure you’re completely silent as they mark you, the crimson falling down your pretty skin. 

His little family. Almost complete.

 Now all they need is for you to accept their love. Which shouldn’t be difficult now. Grace made you insecure, and now that she’s taken care of, they’ll be able to convince you that they want you. They’ll make sure you accept them. 

Buck is still running on pure adrenaline when he gets to Eddie’s house, waiting strategically in his jeep down the street until Eddie has driven you home and is back in his house. They sit on the couch, Buck’s phone held up between them as they listen to Grace's pleading and whimpering.

They know that they can’t wait any longer to have you, but they know they have to be careful. Again. They know they can’t do anything now; calling Eddie’s babysitter up so late and asking her to stay the night with Chris would be suspicious, especially when a body would turn up soon, killed around the same time.

So, the next night, when the body is found, they leave when Chris’s babysitter arrives. Their masks are already in Buck’s jeep, and they ride over to your house in silence, eagerly counting down the seconds until they can see their pretty girl.

You’re fast asleep when the front door to your apartment opens, but you don’t hear it; you’re sleeping soundly with alcohol coursing through your veins. You had found out about Grace today, and while she was rude to you, she had been your friend at one point. To self sooth, you poured a few too many shots, and are now sprawled out on your back on your bed, breathing heavily.

Your eyes shoot open when you feel a warm hand covering your mouth and cold metal held to your throat. Your body tenses as you stay completely still, barely able to make out the two masked men standing directly over you.

“You scream and I’ll slit your throat. You got that, sweetheart?” the smaller one hisses quietly into your ear. You nod quickly, keeping your mouth shut as you look up at them with bloodshot eyes. They almost feel bad; they knew you’d be upset about that bitch’s death, but not this upset.

The other man chuckles darkly at your submissive demeanor, then reaches down to your oversized t-shirt, lifting the hem of it with his knife. You shiver as you feel the cold metal moving up your skin. If he pressed any harder, you’re sure he’d draw blood, and in your dazed state, you’re still sound enough to understand that that’s probably what he wants. 

“No panties? You were just waiting for us, weren’t you baby?” you hear the smaller one ask in a condescending tone. You let out a shaky breath, and although you know you should be terrified, that you should scream and hope someone calls the police, you can’t bring yourself to. You’re not even sure if this is real. You’re only half sure that someone is actually in your apartment right now. All you know that is real right now, is the pool forming between your legs.

You know you shouldn’t be turned on right now, but the way they’re looking down at you, their heads slightly tilted as they examine you has your heartbeat quickening. And not just because they could kill you at any time.

They both look at each other for a split second before one man is grabbing your wrists and tying them to the bed, and the other is fastening a blindfold around your eyes. It’s tight, almost too tight, and although you squirm in their grip in a mix of surprise and fear, you still don’t scream.

“What a good girl for us.” one of them speaks. You think it’s the larger man, but you’re really not sure.

“You gonna keep being good for us, sweet girl?” the other one asks, and you nod quickly. You feel your legs being yanked apart by large hands, and you let out a quiet yelp. You feel a hand on your neck as soon as the noise escapes your throat, and the familiar cold metal dragging across your plush tummy lightly. A string of apologies tumble out of your lips before they can even scold you, and they smirk at each other; their masks having been discarded immediately after they know you were securely fastened to the bed.

You gasp quietly again when your shirt is yanked up, now bunching above your chest. Your nipples harden as the cold air hits your skin, but two warm palms grab your tits quickly, protecting you from the cold as they begin to massage you. You let out a low moan as the man tweaks your nipples, and your breath catches in your throat as the other man’s mouth attaches to your dripping cunt. 

The man that’s playing with your tits, you assume, as the other man is slowly moving his tongue through your glistening folds, shushes you quietly before his lips press searing kisses around your breasts. His hands are still squeezing and groping at your chest, as the other man’s tongue darts in and out of you desperately, nose nudging your clit in a way that has quiet whimpers threatening to escape your lips. 

You’re trying so hard not to make a sound. Your fear is heightening your pleasure as you struggle against the restraints, desperate to touch them.

Even as they work you closer and closer to the edge, you can barely even make out what’s happening. You’re still drunk, you’re sure of it, and with all the emotions swarming around your head with Grace’s death, you think that maybe this is some weird dream.

But, dream or not, you feel fucking incredible. And the real-not-real tongue fucking your greedy cunt is making you see stars.

You’ve also never had this much attention focused on your tits, and with the way the man is tweaking and sucking on your nipples, you feel like you’d come just with his touch alone.

Your breathing is coming out in laboured pants, and you whimper quietly as you bite your lip, knowing what could happen if you make too much noise.

The man attached to your core moans when he feels your pussy clench, and he inserts two fingers into your core, curling his fingers as he sucks on your clit. 

“You gonna come for us sweet girl?” You nod desperately, and both men chuckle. You gasp softly as you feel the knife against your throat, almost enough to slice your soft skin.

“You’re not gonna tell a single person about this, yeah? Promise us that, and we’ll let you come. How’s that sound, gorgeous?” one speaks.

“Yes, yes, yes. Promise. Please.” you plead, trying not to move your head. One wrong move, and you’re sure the knife will cut your throat.

You come not long after, the knife taken from your throat as the attention is focused back on your perfect tits. Your thighs squeeze the head between your thighs, and the man lets out a low growl, teeth grazing your clit and large hands holding your thighs apart as he works you through your orgasm.

Once he’s licked up all your juices, they both remove themselves from you and stand up with smirks. It’s obvious that one man wishes he could’ve tasted your sweet cunt, but by the sounds of your heaving chest and the sight of your quivering thighs, they know they should let you rest. 

The other man is quick to bring their lips together, letting both of them taste your sweet release as their mouths collide in a sloppy kiss.

You feel on edge as you lay there completely bare, your cunt pulsing as the cold air offers a stark contrast to the fire under your skin. You swallow when you finally feel a hand on your throat and a knife moving down the valley of your breasts.

“You tell anyone, and we’ll gut you. You got that, sweet girl?” you nod quickly, holding your breath.

“Promise, I won’t.” you babble, mind reeling and confused. 

The blindfold and restraints are yanked off of you, but not before two gentle kisses are placed on your lips. While one is sweeter, almost loving, the other is rough, and almost desperate, and you know that both men have just kissed you.

You open your eyes quickly, but you’re met with pitch black. They’ve obviously unplugged the little light you keep in your hallway, as it gave you just enough light to see them when you first woke up. Either way, you’re sure that seeing them would do you no good, and your legs are so weak that you can’t even begin to think about getting out of bed.

You fall asleep after a while, unsure of how to feel, and the next morning when you wake up, you’re not even sure that it happened.

Your head is pounding as you sit up, and as you look around your room. Everything is in place. The only thing that makes you think it could be real is the mess between your legs, but even then, it could’ve been a dream that made you very excited. 

You continue on with your day, getting ready for work, and thinking deeply about it. You know that real or not, you can’t tell anyone. On one hand, if it was real, they’d “gut you.” And you’re sure they’d keep that promise. But on the other hand, if it wasn’t, you never think you’d live down telling anyone that you had a sex dream about the two masked men terrorizing LA.

You’re so emotional about everything from the last 24 hours that you convince yourself that you made it up. No need to be afraid, you tell yourself, it was just a dream, right?

The words from Grace are still in the back of your mind, anyway. If they were going to do this to someone, why you?

They watch you through a screen for most of the day, thankful that they have the day off and can spend the day taking care of their sweet girl.

They want to make sure you’re not too shaken up. You clearly enjoyed their touch, but they want to make sure that you’re not scared beyond return. They know they threatened you; they had to. But they’d never actually hurt you. 

They’re pleased when you continue your day like normal, making no attempt to reach out to anyone. They think at this point, it may be easier to isolate you, just a little. Without anyone else, you’ll cling to them, and they can assure you that you’re not crazy. You’re gorgeous, and sweet, and smart, and if they get you all to themselves, they know you’ll realize how nice their attention is.

You’ll accept the protection that they’re giving you. The stability. They dream of the day when you know everything they’ve done, and like it. Maybe you’d even join them; telling them about who wronged you and beg them to do something about it.

They don’t think you’d ever actually take part in it; you’re far too sweet for it, but that’s okay. They’re more than willing to do all the work. Just for you.

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[octuscle]

Fuck man using this app whilst I'm currently so horny might be a mistake but please tell me this thing has a forced growth feature. I'm so bored of being small already I just want to become so fucking huge the only thing I can fit in is under wear, skin tight gym shorts at the most. I want my stench and B.O to instantly fill up a room and make lesser men fall to their knees.

I just wanna be forced to become a young insanely huge freakshow of a bodybuilder.

RIPPPPPP! In the middle of lunch, the seam of your jacket rips open across your back. The whole restaurant is looking at you. You barely look up from your plate, on which instead of a coq au vin there are now six boiled chicken breasts with rice. You struggle to free yourself from the shreds of your jacket without stopping to gulp down your food.

RIPPPPPP! Your biceps burst the sleeves of your shirt. With your mouth full, you mumble something like "sorry" and just rip the remnants of the sleeves off the rest of the shirt. You eat your food like a pig. The glass of Merlot is now a canister of protein shake. Your colleagues and business partners stare at you with open mouths. You pause for a moment and do a double biceps pose. Fuck, the bushes under your armpits stink like a horse stable. You take a deep breath and grin. PIIIIING! Two of your shirt buttons can no longer withstand your pectoral muscles as you inhale and fly through the air like projectiles. You stand up with difficulty, apologize again with your mouth full and spit food scraps around. On the way to the toilet, you let loose a huge protein fart. A quick look in the mirror… You can throw away the shirt. For the rest of lunch it must still hold out with torn sleeves and unbuttoned. While you first fart and then burp even louder, your boss comes in. Holds you a telling off, what that was for an impossible behavior on your part. He asks you to leave the restaurant discreetly through the back exit. And to report to him in the office tomorrow morning.You put your hand to your temple in an "Aye Sir". And you fart again as a farewell.

Your fancy Porsche convertible groans as you squeeze your body into the tight seat. Fuck, the car is much too small for you. The remnants of the clothes you're wearing on your body are much too small for you. You desperately need a change of clothes. In your gym there is a small corner where they sell fitness clothes. And the gym is nearby, so you drive the car there. The receptionist stares at you. This is actually a posh place for yuppies and influencers who want to keep fit. Not for the big lads like you. You ask if they have anything to wear in your size. The lady asks you if you speak English. You repeat your question with a heavy Russian accent.

The only thing they have here in your size are shorts that are frighteningly tight on your thighs. At least there are shoes and socks in size 14. You look good. You do another pose in front of the mirror. The passing visitors of the gym hold their noses. You smell your armpit again. Good honest pumper sweat. You want to go to the training area when you are asked for your membership card. You search for your wallet in the rags that used to be your suit pants. There it is. But Anatol Ivanovich is not a member here. Anatol is a member of Gold's Gym.

You love your Jeep Wrangler Rubicon. A car like you. Massive and bursting with power. And fortunately well ventilated for any passengers. As you roll into the parking lot in front of the gym, you and your car stick out. This is certainly a place for the big guys. But you're the biggest of them.

After the third set on the leg press, you take a deep breath. Yes, this is what a gym must smell like. Like burps. Like protein farts. Like sweat. Like testosterone. Just like you!

Found the pic of your new you @muscleaddictza

[rafesgoldrings]

Okay last little ‘drabble’ (that turned out way longer because I cant stop typing about my kook boys) i’m doing before taking a much needed break because I want @cherryniceties to know what happened the two times Topper went too far🤭 this is part 1/2

For the most part, the boys listened and knew your boundaries when it came to sex. But there was one night when Topper had gone too far, pissed off at his mom, pissed off that Sarah had tried weaseling her way into his life again because she needed something, and he took it out on you. He’d come to your place, where the three of you had been waiting for him, and immediately pulled out a small ziplock bag of coke. He’d pushed the powder into lines, covering one nostril and snorting it, the three of you looking at him in concern.

It wasn’t unusual for you all to get high, but something was clearly wrong and using coke to deal with anger never ended well. Now obviously things had escalated that night, the four of you naked in your king sized bed, Topper had asked to be in control of you tonight and Rafe reluctantly agreed knowing he was upset. But Topper had been too rough, hand repeatedly slapping your cheek, belt coming down on your ass, fingers overstimulating your clit until you were crying out in pain. And then you’d used your safe word, but Topper was too far gone in his high, his pleasure, his anger, to hear you. He’d kept going, gripping your hips firmly and holding you in place when you’d tried to squirm away. It wasn’t until Rafe pulled him off and threw him to the ground that you were relieved from the torture, curling up into the fetal position as sobs wracked your body.

Topper glared up at him, standing back in his feet and shoving his chest “What the fuck dude?”. Rafe just clenched his jaw and pointed at you “You went too fucking far with her. I get you’re pissed off that my bitch of a sister has fucked with you yet again, but you don’t get to take it out on her. Go take a fucking walk” Topper just scoffed, muttering a small ‘unbelievable’ under his breath and heading back to the bed. This time, Kelce stood and joined Rafe, leaving your curled up figure alone on the bed as you tried to comfort yourself. They grabbed his shoulders and dragged him down the stairs before throwing him out “If you come back inside before you calm down, I’ll break your fucking legs Topper. That’s a promise” Rafe spoke in an eerily calm voice, slamming the door shut and heading back upstairs with Kelce. Both of the boys spent the rest of the night comforting you, holding you in their arms as you cried, running you a warm bath, anything they could do to help.

When Topper sobered up, he’d gone home and slept it off, waking up the next morning and going to all your favorite stores to buy you anything he thought you would like. He’d knocked on your door, Jeep stuffed full of gifts, and when you opened it your face dropped. He’d begged you to just hear him out, that he was so sorry for hurting you. That he wasn’t in the right state of mind and shouldn’t have even shown up last night, that the knows you don’t want to see him right now but that he brought you something. It took a few days before you managed to forgive him, the atmosphere being tense between you four until things calmed down.

It wasn’t until you grabbed his hand and guided it under your shirt, his large hands manhandling your tits, cunt grinding against his thigh as you rested your forehead against his, that he knew you were ready to give him another chance. The other two boys watched his closely, ready to jump in if he started going too far, and couldn’t help their growing erections at the little whimpers you were letting out. The wet patch forming on Toppers shorts from your arousal leaking out, hips speeding up in desperation to fall apart on his muscular thigh, it was too much for them. Things were back to normal , now you could all fuck and makeup properly.

Tag List: @sweetestdesire @congratsloserr @xyzstar @outerbankspov @madelynie

[aloneinthehellfire]

GOH: The Monsters

Gates Of Hell

Below are the creatures that appear in GOH with a little description for each. I have received a few asks about them and thought I'd put them all in one place (these will be updates as the story progresses).

[note to self: don't search scary stuff at 1am.]

taglist: @toomanyfandomsimfanvergent . @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose . @palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 . @iliveonteaandbooks . @innercreationflower . @newyorkangelbaby . @totally-bogus-timelady

Warnings: horror, inspired images of monsters, thalassophobia, i genuinely had to sleep with the lights on with all the research i did into these monsters

Introduced in: Part One

Demogorgons

Tall, grey, and thin monsters with elongated limbs. They first appear as 'faceless' until they unfurl their flesh in a flower formation, showcasing many sharp teeth. The demogorgon is fast and strong, relying strongly on hearing to stalk its prey.

Demodogs

Adolescent demogorgons, smaller in size and not unlike the stance of a dog. They carry a virus; any victims they strike (and don't kill) will be infected.

The Infected

Normal people turned monsters from a virus spread by the demodogs. Black veins spread across their body, eventually reaching the brain and turning them feral. The last stage of the virus rips into the flesh of their face, uncurling in four pieces with scattered teeth.

Mind Flayer

An entity made up completely of black particles, its shadow representing a closeness to the appearance of a spider. The dust itself has the power to control the bodies of other monsters, both alive and dead.

Shapeshifters

Creatures that stalk their prey, mimicking familiar voices to lure their victims. Their true form is thin with grey skin covered in dark veins, long black hair cascading down their head. They have hollow eyes and can unhinge their jaw to 'mimic'. In order to shift, they must observe their desired shape head to toe.

Rideo

Built abnormally, the creature is larger in size and most noticeable for its unsettling grin. It has immense strength and will usually focus their sights on one victim until successfully killing them.

The Green-eyed Monster

An unknown creature found in the lab. It resembles a demogorgon but is physically larger and taller, weaponising the claws on its hands. Its most noticeable feature is the vivid green in its eyes, glowing even in the shadows.

Introduced in: Part Two

Dustwalkers

A shadowy figure that stalks the Upside Down. When catching its victim, it can flood their body full of dust until they no longer breathe. They can not be 'killed', but once defeated they will deplete into a pile of ash on the floor.

Banshee

Pale human-like creatures that seemingly hover due to their speed, relying on sound due to their blurred vision. They have a gaping mouth that can blast a debilitating scream, the pitch enough to paralyse their victims in endless pain before death.

Aboleth

Giant leeches restricted to large bodies of water. It drags its victims deep down and curls around it until death. It will most likely digest the corpse after.

to be continued...

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Prompt: "Can I hold your hand?"

Pairing: RosieLemmons

Rosie manages to get them a Jeep for their second date. He's bashfully proud of himself when he jingles the keys at Ken, and Ken can't help but laugh in delight.

"What'd you have to barter for this?" Ken asks.

"Some cigarettes," Rosie says. "Nothing I couldn't part with. I thought we could just drive around some. Find a quiet spot."

Ken holds out his hand, and Rosie drops the keys into his palm. He opens the driver's door for Ken, just barely brushing Ken's shoulder as he steps in. "I know a spot," Ken says. "Me and the boys found it real early and promised to keep it secret."

Rosie hops into the other seat and leans back, looking collected and comfortable in the mid-afternoon sun. Ken wishes he had a camera. "We won't be running into anyone there, will we?"

"Nah, the other boys all have plans in town tonight." Ken starts the Jeep and turns it towards the base exit. He feels Rosie's eyes on him as he shifts gears and looks around to make sure no one's going to dart in front of them.

Rosie returns the guard's salute when they get to the edge of base, and then it's just the two of them and the little country road. Rosie hums atonally and reaches out one hand, resting it on the back of Ken's seat.

Ken grins at him and avoids a washed out spot in the dirt, then drives straight another half-mile before cutting left into a field.

Rosie laughs when they hit a dip in the ground and they both bounce hard. He has to press a hand to his hat before it gets away, but he keeps his other arm on the back of Ken's seat.

They go over a rise, and there's a little copse of trees ahead. Ken aims them towards it and parks the Jeep to one side, leaning on the steering wheel and watching Rosie as he climbs out of the Jeep and looks at the spot. The trees almost make a full circle, but there's an opening between two of them that's three times the size as the space between any of the others. The shaded space has shorter grass than the rest of the field, but it's bright green where the light hits it.

"This is really nice, Ken," Rosie says, turning back to look at Ken. He walks to the back of the Jeep and pulls out a blanket and a thermos.

Ken hops out of the Jeep and follows Rosie to the middle of the space. He helps him shake out the blanket and sits when Rosie does. He watches Rosie open the thermos and smells strong, hot coffee.

"I tried to scrounge up a snack, but the Jeep negotiations took more time than I thought they would," Rosie says, pouring the coffee into the thermos cap.

Ken pats himself down, and he finds a dented but intact tube of M&Ms in his left pants pocket and a handful of hard candies in the inside pocket of his coveralls. There's an Almond Joy in his right leg cargo pocket, and he lays it all out on the blanket. "Here," he says.

Rosie beams at the candy, then leans over and hands Ken the thermos lid, dropping a kiss on his cheek. "I'm not touching the hard candies," he says. "I know you pass those out to the kids."

"I've got plenty," Ken assures him.

"Still," Rosie says. He picks up the hard candies and holds them out to Ken to take back.

Ken cups the thermos lid between both hands and leans forward. "My hands are full," he says. "You mind?"

Rosie blushes, but he pulls Ken's coveralls open so he can slip the candies back into the inside pocket. Ken loves that about him. That he's shy but certain. That he can't hide when he thinks something is a little bawdy but is eager to take a little dare like this.

"Can I hold your hand?" Ken asks as Rosie leans back. He wouldn't usually ask, but Rosie's shyness always gets him at some point. Makes him want to be soft and sweet with him any chance he gets.

Rosie holds out his hand, palm up. "You sure your hands aren't full?" he asks.

Ken takes a sip of coffee. "There," he says. "I can hold it with one hand now. It's not so heavy."

Rosie laughs and squeezes his hand when Ken slips his fingers between his. He brings Ken's hand to his mouth and kisses the back. "This is nice," he says. "I like spending time with you."

Ken scoots over so they're pressed together on their sides, their hands resting on their legs. "Me, too," he says. He takes another sip of coffee, then passes the thermos lid to Rosie so he can have some.

Rosie takes a long drink, and Ken leans in to taste it on his mouth.

[piratesfromspace]

What happens in Siberia… (141xReader)

Pairing: Reader x Ghost x Soap x Price x Gaz Rated: Very Explicit Word count: 2.7k Summary: the squad celebrates your first successful mission in their own way. Note: This is just pure filth, just bring me to horny jail at this point. In the same universe as my "Rain or Shine" fic. Reader callsign is "Rain", she's bi and autistic (I am autistic myself). Inspired to finish this wip by the queen @yeyinde and her Body Electric, go read it.

Content: group sex, oral, p-i-v, praise kink, size kink, alcohol, probably some warcrimes, overall canon typical violence

MASTERLIST // PART 1 // PART 2 // <> // PART 4 // PART 5

They are at the end of the world. Far East. Miles and miles of snow and ice and the occasional patch of dark trees. It’s just the five of them: Price, Soap, Gaz, Ghost and her.

They've been hiking for days now. Camping along the way, never really leaving their heavy gear. All-white winter jackets and pants, the gray of the kevlar vests, the black of their weapons. The blizzard makes everything blur. The cold - deadlier than any heat - numbs the fingers and the senses. 

They're used to the humid furnace of the jungle, the burning sun of the desert, but the freezing temperatures of Siberia are seriously undermining their mood. It was the only way to discreetly reach the compound of this Russian oligarch they need to steal intel from. The mission was simple enough : reach the damn place, eliminate everyone in a surprise attack, find the hard drive with the info in it and wait for evac. Simple. The difficult part was getting there without being killed by the cold or the beasts living in those damned icy woods. Soap swears he saw a wolf the size of a jeep. Or maybe it was a bear. Hard to tell when you have to wear a ski mask so your eyeballs don’t freeze in your skull. 

When the 141 strikes, they sweep the place clean. The handful of guards don’t stand a chance against them despite the weariness of the travel. They had found an entrance in the sewer system, reached the basement and its concrete walls, but when they climbed to the higher levels of the building, they suddenly found themselves in an imitation of a luxury cabin. Warm wood, white furs thrown on sprawling beige sofas, a fireplace big enough for a child to stand in it. A chef kitchen. Half a dozen bedrooms with king size beds and ensuite bathrooms.

The place is stocked for literal orgies. Champagne and vodka and cocaine - and the drawers in the bedrooms are full of condoms and lube. The kind of place rich assholes spend their winter vacation in when they go skiing in the Alps. It fits with what they know of the owner.

Once they secure the hard drive, and make sure nobody else is alive in there, they all stagger to the living room with a palpable relief. Evac will be there in a little less than 48 hours. Two whole days in Nowhere, Siberia, with nothing else to do except rest in this 5-stars chalet after days of miserable trek in the snow.

“I really need a shower” Rain mutters, and she makes a beeline for the main suite. Ghost follows without a word. When it’s just them and the core squad they don’t bother to hide anymore. It was Rain's first field trip as not just a supply manager. Of course they had her at the back of the group when they breached the building, Ghost the first to break in as usual. She did not even have to fire a single bullet. But she went in with her gun tightly clutched in her hand and her night vision goggles on nonetheless. 

They are doing shots. Tsarskaya vodka, straight from Saint Petersburg. The hot meal has been the best she had in months thanks to the freezer of the pantry being full of stupidly expensive delicacies. Price, Gaz and Ghost are sprawled across the sofa, Soap and her are sitting on the plush fur carpet. They’re all down to cargo pants and T-shirts, a blessing after days in those heavy and cumbersome jackets. She could cry at the relief of feeling something else than the wooly inside of her gloves under her fingertips. Her limbs still ache from days of fighting the cold and sleeping on the ground, but the fatigue has been somewhat dulled by the vivid memory of Simon’s tongue between her legs when he dropped to his knees during the shower she took earlier. Her back is warmed by the fireplace, her belly is full and she still feels a bit light-headed from the fight. She wants nothing more than to indulge in the playful atmosphere and the many promises of those two full days of rest with her squad.

“A toast” Price starts, raising his vodka “to Rain - for her first mission accomplished!”

“Please Captain, you make me sound like a damn rookie. I’ve been in the team for a year now. And I’m older than Soap for fuck sake!” 

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

The easy banter goes on, more vodka burns her throat, she bares her neck and laughs - and Ghost’s eyes narrow with a glint. 

Nah, I tell you, you're still a rookie. Oh yeah? I bet you could not think of something I haven’t done that MacTavish has. Easy, you never killed. Not because you never see me do it means I didn’t do it before. (there is a silence)  Let’s lighten the mood… ‘bet you never kissed a girl. Come on, I’ve had more girlfriends than you, Soap.  Never had a threesome?  I did once back in college. Why, you’ interested, Gaz? (it’s a joke - but also not really)

It lasts for a while until Soap grins victoriously.

“You never kissed me.” he beams, even though it doesn't really make sense for the little game they’re playing. She’s too tipsy to care.

“If that’s the only thing to shut you up.” and she leans into him, grabs his thigh for balance and just like that - she kisses him. Her tongue breaches his lips and she can taste the vodka they’re drinking and the sugar of the russian caramel they had for dessert. The kiss lasts only a couple of seconds, but Soap is glass eyed when she sits back down. 

Price lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Rain...”  “Thank you, Captain.”  “John for tonight” “Thank you, John.” she whispers, tone low and suggestive. “I’m gonna get more dessert!” she announces all of a sudden - she had always craved sugar - and she bounces to the kitchen, leaving them all a bit stunned. 

Price glances at Ghost. For once, he has no clue how he will react. To his girl openly flirting with others, to his girl initiating something they won’t be able to come back from. 

“She decides.” Simon’s voice is even more gravelly than usual. “You follow.” he asserts, and that’s all the instructions they will get from him. It’s clear enough though - she’s the one in charge from there, Ghost trusts them to do as she says, and he trusts her to ask for what she needs.

When she comes back, she sits down next to Soap, leans heavily on him. He brushes her hair out of her pretty face, and she looks at him with intent, daring him to continue what they started. It’s like she provides him with a pool of gasoline, and hopes for nothing more than a spark to light it all and let the fire consume them both - and by a chain reaction consume them all.

He doesn’t resist and kisses her again. She lets him. She even moans against his lips when he grabs her nape. It’s like the match has been cracked, it’s too late now. No coming back from that. The flames are already spreading. Gaz falls on his knees behind her, strong hands on her waist, his mouth against her earshell.

“Is this okay? ‘This what you want?” She breaks the kiss just enough time to answer a breathy yes.

The rest is a blur. Someone removes her T-shirt, lays her down on the fur. Expensive vodka poured into the divot of her navel.

“It’s cold!” she protests with a laugh until Gaz laps the alcohol from her skin with a gaze so sinful it warms her right up. 

Ghost is right there by her head, a hand spanning her neck, holding her jaw. Through his mask, he whispers sweet praises to her, walking her through it. Soap is playing with her tits, teeth grazing the gentle curve of her breast before his latches on one of the tender buds. Gaz is laying on his belly, tongue buried in her cunt. She’s still sensitive from what Ghost did just before during their shower, but Gaz is different in his approach, he takes his time, goes slow, licks her clit like they’ve got all night (they have). 

He sinks one finger into her then a second. “Fuck she’s tight.” He exhales against her folds, half-wonder, half-worry. “Let me do it.” It’s Price - he’s been hovering around them all, carefully observing, waiting for the right time to step in. It’s not that easy for him, he’s their Captain, even though he had the intuition to forbid her to use his title earlier. But if they’re going to do this, he wants to do it right - right by her. He won’t let her be hurt on the battlefield, no reason to stop caring for her now. 

He takes Gaz's place between her legs.

“Open your mouth for me darling.” he croons and he coats two of his fingers with her saliva, presses on her tongue and rewards her with a good girl when she licks at the rough pad of his fingers. Price sinks into her cunt again, gently fucks her with two fingers, scissors her open with an infinite patience. Gaz pets at her clit, circles slow and wide, not enough for her to come, but definitely enough to make her forget the burn of the stretching process. 

They take turns making her shatter to pieces only to carefully rebuild her after. Soap takes her in long lazy strokes, before guiding her lips on his cock and she can taste herself on him - it’s enough to make her whimper around his flesh. Price maneuvers her on her hands and knees, grips her hips with large hands, fucks her in powerful thrusts and drown her in praises.

You’re so fucking pretty like this You tell me if it’s too much Fucking hell, you feel so good

She keens and laughs as she comes for the third time of the night. It’s a lot but they don’t stop, not as long as she welcomes them. Not as long as the embers of her desire are still shining gold. Gaz has her ride him on the couch, Ghost holding her waist to help her get up when her legs become too shaky. They work as one, just like they did hours before. They take care of each other in so many ways, it was just a matter of time before such a night would happen.

Ghost is finally shedding the last of his gear - he’s naked except for the mask. The flames of the fireplace frame his devilish figure with an unnatural glow - an Angel of Death, covered in so many scars he looks like he’s been to Hell and back a few times. Muscles rippling fat and strong under his skin, light trails of blond hair leading down to his leaking cock. Rain is not the only one to stare, but she’s the only one he sees, and when she pleads his name, he drapes his body over hers.

One of them has brought back lube from one of the bedrooms. Simon coats his length in the shiny liquid before burying to the hilt into her cunt. Despite the fair share of preparation, she’s still panting at the sudden pressure. Her little pained whimper has them suddenly on high alert. But Simon is handling her with the confidence she can take it, he offers shallow trusts and reassuring words until the burn of the stretch turns into blistering pleasure.

He brings her legs on his shoulders, his arms the size of her thighs, and if she already appeared small compared to the rest of them, Ghost is dwarfing her. Soap is mesmerized by it, how Simon’s dick fits inside her despite the absurd size difference. Ghost moves again and the change in position has him hit that spongy spot hidden just behind the bone of her pelvis that makes her moan and whimper. Johnny had already dreamed about it, imagined it, heard it from the other side of a door, but actually seeing her lips part around cries of pleasure under his lieutenant, it makes his cheeks burn even more than when he was the one hitting the end of her soft cunt.

He’s taken out of his trance by Rain’s pleading voice. Please Johnny she begs - and she begs so pretty he would do anything she asks him - and she catches his hand and brings it just where Ghost and her are connected. When he presses on her clit, she arches off the sofa, and when he keeps rubbing in time with Simon’s thrusts, she comes so hard she drenches his whole hand. 

There is a pause in the non-stop sex, someone presses a glass of water to her lips, another digs his fingers into the muscles of her back. She closes her eyes and sighs in contentment, lulled by the soft crackling of the fire and the satisfied groans of her lovers. She thinks they’re all sated, but it’s her Captain - no, it’s John - that cups her cheek and asks oh so gently will you have me again, sweet thing?

How can she say no when he talks to her like this? She’s raw between her legs, delicate flesh all swollen and still wet, and she will regret it tomorrow - will she?. She nods, and he moves her back down on the pile of throws. His rough hand on her delicate neck, he feels the warm pulse of her life - he has her life between his hands everyday, tonight is just more literal. What did he think would happen back when she appeared on base for the first time?

Despite everything, she had survived her first few months with them, had embedded herself so far in their team, she is impossible to remove now. The men foolish enough to try would have to step through their fire. It was inevitable, actually. The squad swore to do anything to protect each other, and it’s even more obvious with her. One could mistake it for machismo, the reality is they do their best to understand what it’s like for her to live in this world made of ongoing threats - coming not only from their enemies but also from the other soldiers they sometimes share their missions with. The revelation that she had killed before - before them - is no real surprise for Price. He’ll ask her more, maybe, when the time is right. When the place they’re in will be no more than ashes and smoke, white and gray and covered in fresh snow.

When they are done, nerves raw and skin too sensitive to the touch, it’s her captain who carries her under the shower, letting the water soothe the last of their fever. Once he’s sure she can still walk, he reluctantly lets her go. She needs to be alone, needs to reset away from their eyes. You alright sweetheart? Was it too much? - Price is suddenly anxious, the pungent bile of doubt pooling under his tongue. Her temples burn, she’s a bit ashamed of what she’s about to say but here in a place that no one knows about and that will vanish from the surface of the earth, she feels like she can admit it, that her secret will be safe, thrown out in the blind blizzard of Siberia. It was perfect.

She steals the largest T-shirt discarded in the living room - Simon’s - before crashing into one of the beds. Ghost materializes by her side, like a cryptid she can’t quite get rid of even if she wanted to. He glues himself to her back. Check-ins and praises whispered in the icy black of the night.

Fucking hell, you were so -so good. Are you okay pet? Didn’t know you had this in you.

She finally falls asleep just as the foggy glow of dawn starts creeping up the dark sky. They still have one whole day and one whole night before packing up and dowsing the place in gasoline, before cracking a match and watching it burn. They’ll make the most of it.

NEXT PART

[squidthesquidd]

HELLOOOOOOOO THEREEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Do you have any Tf Ocs? or Ocs in general? Asking for no reason (:

-🪐

oh my god so many so many transformers OCs😭 I only have one drawn so far so im just gonna infodump on you so hard

Clapperclaw- my FIRST actual transformer oc :3 hes a lil guy and hes designed to look like a bird!!! and he transforms into a mosquito helicopter! He used to be a decepticon, but he defected after a series of events that kinda made him have an identity crisis.. alsooo hes conjuxed to MisClick!! who ill talk abt now

MisClick- Big blue tank thing!!!! shes a scientist and doesn't prefer fighting, but shes huge and buff and can protect herself verrry well. She was also a decepticon, but didn't really care for sides all the much, but stayed with the decepticons for convenience (first faction that found her, her partner was part of them, they had the materials she wanted for her experiments) but when Clapper defected, she did too.

Current- also a scientist, and specializes in chemistry and biology mostly. and he turns into a boat!!! a big as hell yacht!!! so he a reaall big bot. hes an autobot and in most versions of him hes really close with optimus cus yayyy :3 also his face got fucked up in one of his experiments (acid burns teehee) so he wears a mask most of the time

Pike- okay soo... this guy isss complicated??? the initial reason i made him was for transformers reader insert fic reasons, and then he just kinda stuck around in my brain. sometimes hes with megatron, sometimes with someone else, hes an autobot and a decepticon at the same time , i dont fucking know. the only constant is that he's ancient and doesnt eat energon like a normal person (he doesnt really eat energon at all, he feeds off the energy thats always being dispelled by other bots. hes silly like that)

Crimson- now this guy silly!!! hes tiny and has a liiiittle bit of an italian accent cus his alt-mode is based on my dads car which is a really old alfa romeo (which are italian cars :3) hes silly and always super optimistic and is the reason that Tine eventually joined the autobots

Tine- (placeholder name) Saddest guy on the block. wasn't on a side and was doing his best to survive. kills on sight, takes no risks, serious as FUCK. hated everyone and everything until meeting crimson. saw a silly old man so full of joy and whimsy he couldn't help but fall in love lmao. still very wary around everyone else but can and will kill for crimson (also his alt is a jeep btw)

Prodsling- yeah this is a cowboy. texas accent , would wear a cowboy hat if he could, likes to pet cows and horses, loves driving through mud. hes like a chill southern granpa that sits on a porch and gives weird advice and makes farm animal noises. turn into a pickup truck ofc

Shiver- Weirdest girl on the block. literally your local cryptid that watches u from the shadowy corners and knows all your secrets. actually quite sweet but has the autism that makes you strange and unsettling <3 alt is like??? i dunno some cool black car. she walks silently and is so good at eavesdropping

Polyphon- weird little decepticon kid that wants to be friends with soundwave SO BAD. wants to party, covered in rainbow biologhts. RAVE BOY RAVE TIME!!! has speakers on him :3 here to have a good time not a long time 🎉

Vironmet- Little old lady in the woods that loves to meditate and talk to animals. will NOT HESITATE TO THROW DOWN if you fuck of the forest or anything living in it. bakes you a pie but if your mean to dogs its poisoned. basically what if tfa prowl was a little lady that killed. she turns into a Squirrel i think

Matte- Mercedes that does not quit. stares into peoples eyes menacingly all day. wants to bite. most fucking stubborn guy ever. Only loosely tied to the autobots and just does his own thing, cus literally no one can handle him!!!!!

Nano- tiny little medic! about the size or a human and her alt is basically a swiss-army medical tool! so shes made to have other bots handles her. also shes basically Ratchets child for funsies. tiny, bitey, ready to be covered in energon when its surgery time!!!!

aaand thats a out it so far! I dont have a lot of time to draw them cus im in college snd have ine million assignments 😭 but ill try!!! so watch out for em!!

[callsignspark]

Mar[r]y Me | part three

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

summary: A love story told through friendship, laughter, and food.

series warnings: 18+ minors DNI, discussion of insecurities, difficult family relationships, discussions of food and alcohol use, extremely brief mentions of emotionally abusive ex-bf, mentions of pregnancy and giving birth but nothing is described, hints of a raging (mutual) size kink that hasn't revealed itself yet, eventual smut, warnings to be added as needed

word count: 4.1k

previous part | main masterlist

note: happy Saturday! part three is here! (a day later than I planned and no teaser but it's here!) thank you for the love on part two! I hope you all have a great weekend!

part three - banana bread

Mary and Bradley stand side by side, staring into the trunk of her Jeep, which is bursting at the seams. The floor is covered with baked goods, a gift bag full of things she hopes Amelia will enjoy, and a hastily packed duffel bag. Two dozen helium balloons and four floral arrangements she picked up as a favor to Penny are crammed into the remaining space.

“I feel like I may have gone a tiny bit overboard.”

Bradley glances over at her and has to hold in a laugh. With her hands planted on her hips and her brow furrowed so deep that wrinkles have appeared, she reminds him of an angry kitten. An thought he keeps inside, well aware of the fierceness of the shorter woman next to him.

“It just looks like a lot because of all the balloons. Once we get those out, it’s almost nothing.”

She snorts. “You’re so sweet to lie to me. How many girls are coming to the party again?”

“I think Mav said somewhere around twenty-two.”

“Yeah, I definitely made too much.” She lets out a defeated sigh. “Oh well, I’m sure Penny will donate any leftovers to a good cause.”

“Oh, do you think she’ll force Mav to bring them to base?”

“Yes, I think you guys will get to eat the leftovers.” She correctly interprets his real question. “Alright, let’s get this stuff inside; it’s gonna take a few trips.”

“No way, I’m a master of bringing all the groceries inside in one trip.” He jokingly flexes, showing off his strong arms.

Behind her sunglasses, Mary’s eyes trace the lines of his muscles; briefly losing her train of thought when she sees how the t-shirt strains against his biceps. A beat too late, her eyes snap back up to his face, the smirk flashed back at her setting off butterflies in her stomach.

She pivots. “Can you be trusted to bring in the flower arrangements without breaking anything, or is that too much for you to handle?”

He groans, remembering his embarrassingly slippery fingers from the previous weekend when the Daggers helped Mary move into her rental house. “I told you I would pay for dropping your vase! Please let me give you money for it!”

He’s offered countless times to pay for a replacement, though he internally maintains that it wasn’t his fault the vase broke.

It had been an unseasonably warm December day, even for California. The guys had spent the morning packing the U-Haul while the girls had done a final round of cleaning at her new place. Mary had just left to pick up lunch when the full truck pulled up, a small caravan of cars following it. They had managed to get all the furniture into the one-story ranch and were working on unloading boxes when she returned with food.

Bradley was bringing a box of décor inside when he turned around to welcome Mary home. He froze before he could get the words out. His brain stopped working at the sight of jean shorts and a flowy tank top.

Bradley silently thanked whoever brought the warm weather. His eyes were glued to the slope of her calves, the thickness of her thighs, the curve of her ass, fully appreciating the olive-toned skin that appeared as she bent down to get something from the backseat. His mouth felt dry when he tried to swallow. It was the most skin he'd seen since they’d met.

He was busy trying to imagine where a tan line might exist when she turned around. Her tank top, which had already shifted from her movement, got picked up by a gust of wind and showed a flash of a pretty red bra that matched her nail polish.

He dropped the box on his foot, broke the vase inside, and cut his finger as he tried to salvage the situation. He got blood on a throw pillow but was relieved that only the vase had shattered. His weak excuse of “slippery fingers” fooled Mary and Mary alone. The only person who hadn’t seen his eyes roaming up and down her body.

“And I’ve already told you! I bought that vase at the dollar store my junior year, so I will accept nothing more than $1.08 from you.” She starts piling containers filled with baked goods into his arms. “I’m honestly surprised it even lasted that long.”

“I still feel bad.” He mutters under his breath before he gets distracted by the food. “What did you make? I thought Penny said she asked you to make cupcakes?”

“I did make cupcakes! Red velvet, as requested by Amelia Bedelia herself! I also made some sugar cookies. And some Oreo truffles. And I know it’s a lot, but I wanted her to have a great birthday, and you only turn 15 once - and that’s almost as big of a birthday as 16 because it’s the year before you really start growing up and heading towards adulthood with getting your license and everything - so I just really wanted to make it special! And it’s not like I’m going to charge Penny anything! I didn’t even want to take anything from her for the cupcakes, but last week she stuffed money - way too much money, I have to figure out how to give it back to her - into my hands and ran away before I could stop her. I swear that’s the last time I wear anything with a heel to the Hard Deck.” They make their way into the house as Mary rambles, her face becoming visibly more stressed as she goes on.

He carefully places the containers on the counter before emptying Mary’s arms and gently places a hand on her back. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. What’s wr-”

Before Bradley can figure out what’s happening, Amelia bursts into the kitchen, letting out a huge gasp. “Oh my god, Mary!”

The teenager wiggles her way in between the adults, throws her arms around the older woman, and starts bouncing. “This looks amazing! Mom said you were making cupcakes, but I didn’t know you were going to make all this extra stuff, too! Thank you so much!”

Mary squeezes the girl in her arms, smoothing her hand over her back. “Of course, sweetheart. I’m glad you like it!”

“Like it! I love it! Oh my god!! I have to show mom!” Amelia darts back out of the room, and Mary’s lip wobbles as she moves to finish bringing the party supplies inside.

Bradley doesn’t move for a second, debating if he should grab Penny, not sure if he’s prepared for the woman that he has feelings for to cry. The sound of the front door closing gets him moving, and he takes a deep breath, sending a quick prayer to his mom that he can handle any tears that may appear.

“Mary. Mary!” He jogs down the steps to stop her from trying to carry everything herself. “Hey, woah, slow down. Let’s just take a second here. Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Yeah, everything is fine! I’m fine! Why wouldn’t I be?” Her smile is strained, and her eyes are watery as he stares into them.

“Mary…”

“I just want her to have a good 15th birthday! Mine wasn’t, and I’ve gotten so wrapped up in those feelings I almost forgot it’s about her and not me. Overcompensating for my bad experience while trying to make sure she has a good day.”

They stand there under the open hatch of her car. Bradley tries to catch her eye while she stares at her shoes, forcing herself not to cry. He decides not to ask the questions he really wants an answer to, realizing it would probably only upset her more.

“When is your birthday? You’ve been here since March and we haven’t celebrated it yet. I don’t owe you a present do I?”

“It’s March 14th. Which is the day I flew to California.”

“Your birthday is Pi Day! Did you celebrate?”

“I bought myself a cookie at the Dallas Airport during my layover. And when I landed, Dani and Reuben took me to get Thai food, even though I said I was too tired. It was nice.”

“We’ll have to do something big for your next birthday! Maybe we can do a pie-baking contest, see who can make the best birthday pie. The birthday girl judges, of course.” He nudges her side and winks, making her smile.

A car full of teenage girls pulls up, and they flock to the house, interrupting the moment.

“Oh! People are starting to arrive! Come on, Bradley, help me get the rest of this stuff inside so you guys can finish setting up.” She doesn’t give him a chance to argue, just heading into the house juggling three floral arrangements.

By the time he’s fought to get the balloons through the doorframe, Mary is setting up the dessert table, seemingly back to herself as she answers the questions Amelia is peppering at her.

“Are you really sure you can’t stay for the party?”

“Oh, I would love to, kiddo; I really would. But I have to get back to Reuben’s, so you’ll have to let me know how everyone likes the treats, okay?” Amelia agrees, giving Mary one more hug before joining her friends, who showed up early to get ready together.

“Are you sure you can’t stay for a little bit, M&M?”

“I want to, Mav, but Reuben is convinced Dani is in labor, and she’s in denial. So I have to go monitor that situation because the last time they did this little dance, Annabeth was almost born in the backseat of their Rav4.”

“Why is she in denial?” Penny questions from her position on the ladder, adding streamers to the sliding door.

“Partially because it’s a week and a half before her due date. But mostly, I think it’s because she had some problems when Annie was born, so I think she’s a bit hesitant this time.”

“What happened last time? Did she-” Penny makes a ripping sound, humming sympathetically when Mary winces in confirmation. “Ouch.”

The kitchen is quiet for a minute, the women shivering at the phantom pain and the men horrified about how casually a ripping noise is associated with birth. “Well! On that note, I should get going. See if Reuben has made any progress convincing her to go to the hospital.”

“Thanks for everything, Mary. It’s perfect! Keep us updated, and let me know if she needs anything!”

“Of course, let me know how everything goes!” She hugs Penny and Mav before turning to Bradley, who is mentally preparing for his hug. “Walk me out?”

“Sure.” He lets her walk out ahead of him before flipping off his aunt and uncle, the two of them making kissy faces.

“Bradley?”

“Coming!” His annoyed look melts into a smile that reminds Mav of a smile he’d only seen in photos for the last thirty-five years.

“God, they’re just like Nick and Carole. More oblivious than those two were, but just as into each other.” Pete nods; his throat feels too thick to agree with his wife. He watches his godson give his full attention to the woman walking in front of him, wishing more than ever that his best friends were standing next to him to watch their kid grow up.

“This is for you, as a thank you. I know it was you who rallied the troops to help me move after Reuben mentioned I was hiring movers.” Mary places a foil-wrapped loaf in his hands. “Something told me you like yours with chocolate chips.”

“Well, hiring movers is ridiculous when you have a group of big, strong, available aviators to lift the heavy things for you. What is this?” He lifts the foil and takes a sniff, “Banana bread! How did you know this is my favorite?”

“A girl has a way of figuring things out.” He laughs at her eyebrow wiggle.

“Phoenix tell you?”

“It’s not fun if you guess, Bradley. And, for your information, I happen to be an omnipotent goddess who knows everyone’s favorite food.”

“You’re telling me you know everyone’s favorite food, Miss Goddess?”

“Well, not everyone. All of my family, my college friends, my coworkers from Missouri and Florida, but I’m still learning everyone out here.”

“Okay, well, that’s pretty much everyone. That’s impressive. How do you remember it all?”

“You’d be amazed at what I can do with excel and conditional formatting.” She’s interrupted by her phone. “Reuben? Is everything okay?”

“We’re going right now. I threw Annie at Mr. Webster next door, and I have the gas pedal to the floor. Can you handle everything?”

“I’m on it. We’ll chill at the house until otherwise instructed. Drive safe.” She starts moving around her car before doubling back and leaning up on her tip-toes, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Thank you for your help last weekend; I really appreciate it.”

She presses a kiss to his cheek and is driving away before Bradley can recover. He’s still staring at where her bumper disappeared around the corner when he feels someone walk up behind him.

“I didn’t know your parents very well, but I do know how he asked her out the first time. I’m assuming you’ve heard that one quite a bit?”

“It was mom’s favorite to tell.”

“So you know that he asked her when it was almost too late? She had agreed to go out with some other guy, and Goose was a week away from his first long-term deployment.”

“Yeah. He showed up at her apartment fifteen minutes before her date was supposed to pick her up.”

“Yup, convinced her how much he cared about her and managed to be the one that took her out that night. They spent every night together until he left. Three months later, halfway through the deployment, she found out she was pregnant. You should have seen her, panicking so much thought we were gonna have to call the EMTs.” His aunt’s voice is clouded with nostalgia. “He proposed on the phone, and they were happy the entire time they had together. No matter how short it was.”

He turns, looking at the older woman, her arms crossed over her chest. “What’s your point, Penny?”

“Mary – despite how shy she can be – is a woman who is aware of her worth. She won’t go out with just anyone. However, just like your mother, I suspect she won’t wait around forever for a Bradshaw man to get his shit together. She clearly cares about you, but if you want to be with her, you need to be the one to do something about it.”

Mary is in the middle of a huge yawn, waiting for the elevator, when she’s consumed by a hug that scares her back to fully awake.

“Fitch godparents unite!”

“Mickey, you scared me!” She hugs him back despite her scolding. “How many photos did you take?

“Pretty sure he ran out of storage again.” Bob smiles at her over Mickey’s shoulder, proud of his joke.

Mickey tries to defend himself, but Jake interrupts.

“Folks, let’s not block the elevator.” He ushers the small group to the side like he’s herding cattle, making Natasha roll her eyes. “Okay, let’s get that photo of the godparents that Mickey wanted so badly, and then we can go home!”

“Yes!”

“No! Not right now.”

“Awe! Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, we don’t have the baby to take the photos with. Plus, if I look as gross as I feel, I do not want that memorialized.”

“You look good, Mary! You could totally take photos!” Natasha encourages her, and Jake mutters something under his breath.

“Jake, I don’t know what you just said but shut up.” She smacks his arm when he laughs. “Mickey, I promise we’ll take godparent photos with the baby. Just when I’ve had more than four hours of sleep and a chance to put makeup on.”

“I’m holding you to that! Hey, where were you, by the way? I thought we were going spend some time together in the room?”

“That was my plan! But as I was taking Annabeth and Dani’s parents back to the house, I realized that my Jeep is at my house. With the wildness of the weekend and all the times we’ve shuffled the cars to make sure someone had a car seat, I forgot it ended up there. So I just took an Uber back here instead of trying to have Sanford drive me to my place and then make sure he got back to the house okay.”

“Dude, you were gone for like two hours.” Natasha raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“Yeah, apparently, Sunday evening is a busy time for rideshare apps.”

“Do you need a ride home?”

“I’m staying for a while; I brought some clothes and stuff for them, so I’ll figure something out later. Thanks, though, Bob!” The elevator tone distracts her. “I’m gonna head up! I’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

The four aviators follow her back towards the elevator, saying their goodbyes.

“Bradshaw is still up there if you want to bum a ride off him.” Jake lets her know.

“Bradley is still here?”

“Yeah, Payback wanted to ask him about something.”

Natasha stops the doors from closing, leans in closer, and drops her voice so the guys don’t hear. “Hey, quick question. Are you ovulating right now?”

“Uhh… I don’t know. Maybe? Why?”

Phoenix’s grin is evil as she steps back, “No reason! Good luck! Bye!”

“Wait! Nat! Good luck? Why would I need luck?” Her questioning is cut off as the elevator closes. But Mary’s confusion quickly ends when she enters Room 427 in the maternity ward and finds Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw holding her new godson, Stephen James Fitch.

She’s stuck in the doorway for a minute, her mind struggling to take in the scene before her. His sun-kissed shoulders are on full display thanks to a tank top, and his strong thighs stretch the material of his jeans. His body takes up most of the space on the loveseat. Her heart thumps as the six-foot-something man cradles the newborn, his finger gently stroking Stephen’s cheek. Something deep inside her warms up as she memorizes the way his enormous biceps dwarf the already tiny baby.

“Did you bring my purple sweatpants?” Dani’s question moves everyone’s attention to Mary, who finally enters the room.

“Of course, I did - that’s what you asked for - and I have your bag. I also brought Reuben a change of clothes and some stuff for tonight. I threw a load of laundry in while I was there; your mom is going to switch it over and give Annie a bath. Here.” She hands a bottle of lemonade to Dani.

“My favorite! What would I do without you?”

“Be perfectly fine since you have a loving husband to back you up.”

“Yeah, that’s true; we’d handle ourselves. But I’d miss you. We’d miss you.” Dani nods at the two men cooing over the baby. “That’s so fucking cute. It makes me want to make another one.”

“You should probably wait for your stitches to heal first.”

Dani hums in agreement. “I guess that means it’s your turn now. Whatcha think? I know someone who would be willing to help you out.”

“Danielle!” Mary lowers her voice. “Stop it. We are not talking about this right now. He is right there.”

“Fine, but we are talking about it soon. I saw your eyes when you walked in; you practically started drooling. By the way, are you ovulating?”

“That is none of your business!” Mary starts giggling at the ridiculousness of her best friend.

“Oh my god! You are!” Her laughter catches the attention of the room’s other occupants.

“What are they laughing about?”

“Man, trust me, you probably don’t want to know.” Reuben claps Bradley on the shoulder. “M&M! Come supervise Bradshaw while I change and make sure he doesn’t drop my baby.”

Mary takes Reuben’s place next to Bradley on the small couch. She folds her leg underneath herself and leans into his side, looking over his shoulder at her godson. The two sit silently for a bit, admiring the sleeping baby as his parents freshen up and change.

Mary leans her cheek on his shoulder, thinking about a baby with curly hair like the man next to her and a skin tone that matched her own. What it would be like if the baby in Bradley’s arms shared her brown eyes and his nose. She thought of how supportive he had been for the wife of his teammate and how he would probably be even more supportive of his own partner.

Then she catches a whiff of his cologne, and she allows her mind to wander to a topic she had been trying to ignore since the previous weekend.

It was all Bradley’s fault.

He had gripped her hips as she stood on the counter while putting decorations on top of her cabinets, holding her steady to make sure she didn’t fall. He helped her climb down when she was done, moving quickly as she stumbled. His warm hands had felt so nice holding onto her wide hips. It had felt even better being pressed up against his muscular body when she tripped getting down.

There had been a moment after he steadied her where she was fully enveloped by his strength, by his size, and it had set her body on fire. All she could think about was those hands exploring her body, his lips learning the sensitive spots on her neck, his powerful hips pressed against hers but with much less clothing.

“I can’t believe he’s so small.”

She blinks back to the present, feeling a little lightheaded from thinking about her fantasy Bradley with the real one right next to her. “I know. He’s so perfect; he looks like a little doll.”

“Do you wanna hold him?”

“No, you keep him for now.”

I don’t think I have enough strength in my arms to hold him right now after fantasizing about you.

“Besides, you look good holding him.”

What???

The sound of Dani choking prevents her previous statement from fully settling in the room as Reuben rushes to make sure she’s okay. “Baby? What happened? You okay?”

Danielle waves him off, her voice scratchy. “Fine, just swallowed wrong.”

Payback stays with his wife, rubbing her back and whispering in her ear, turning to the two sitting on the sofa after a minute. “Okay, we love you both, but get out. You have work tomorrow, and I’m like 90% certain Mary hasn’t eaten since yesterday.”

Bradley whips his head to the woman sitting next to him. “What?”

“It’s been busy!” She weakly defends herself.

“Bradshaw, give me back my baby, and since she needs a ride home anyway, make sure she eats something.”

“On it, Mrs. Fitch. C’mon, Miss Mary, I’m hungry, too.” He wiggles his fingers in her direction, prompting her to say her goodbyes before following him to the door. He grabs her hand as they pass the threshold. “Gotta hold on to you; make sure you don’t escape before I can buy you dinner.”

“You don’t have to feed me, Bradley.” She makes excuses as they move towards the elevators, not making any move to let go of his hand. “I have plenty of food at home.”

“Oh no, I’m under strict instructions from the pregnant lady. And from what I understand, you’re not supposed to argue with pregnant ladies.”

“She’s not pregnant anymore.”

“Well, pregnant or not, she’s kinda scary...” He mutters, guiding her into the elevator. “Besides, maybe I just want to buy a pretty girl some dinner.”

She stares at him from across the small space, that warm feeling creeping up again. “Well… when you find one, I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.”

He raises an eyebrow, an unimpressed look accompanying it. “You’ve always been very gracious when I’ve bought you a coffee. I’m sure you’ll be just as kind when it comes to dinner.”

The elevator stops, and more people get on before she can argue. The new riders push her toward Bradley, who protectively tucks her under his arm after one of the men leers at her, glaring at him when Mary isn’t looking. His attention instantly shifts as he feels a finger tap his chest. He tilts his head down, smiling at her as she looks up at him.

“Can we go to Panera?” Her voice is quiet, like she’s afraid he might say no.

“Course, anything you want, honey. I’ll even get you a lemon drop cookie.”

“Those are my favorite.”

“Yeah, I know.” Bradley guides her out of the elevator and grabs her hand again amid the flurry of people in the lobby. “You’re not the only one who pays attention to people’s favorites, Mary.”

A pleased smile spreads over her face and she grabs onto his arm with her free hand. Bradley squeezes her hand in his, as she hums, "I guess not."

thank you for reading <3 if you would like to be added (or removed) from the tag list just send me an ask!

tagging: @gretagerwigsmuse | @bobfloyds | @bussyslayer333 | @hangmanbrainrot | @mothdruid | @notroosterbradshaw | @princessphilly | @rhettabbotts | @roleycoleyreccenter | @roosterbruiser | @seresinsweetie | @thesewordsareallihavetogive | @waklman | @withahappyrefrain | @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby | @ohtobeleah | @katieshook02 | @hellojameshowyadoin | @memoriesat30 | @aristotles-butthole | @atarmychick007

fic tag | credit for dividers here

[shy-shuana]

Apocalypse AU

Part I

Synopsis: The reader and their partner work together to survive everyday in the apocalyptic world full of the undead. Things get a little out of hand when they receive a radio message from a military rescue squad. Trigger warning: Mentions of blood, killing, grief, loss of a loved one.

"On your left!" You alerted Tarano, your partner.

"Aye-aye captain!"

On your way out of the near-by grocery store, the two of you had encountered a hoard of zombies who, coincidentally, were hurdled near your jeep. Since they were less in number, it was easy to kill them. You wiped the zombie blood off your hands after slashing the last one.

"We need to get out of here before more of them come running. After all, we did make quite a lot of noise." He said while scanning the area for more of them.

You nodded your head in response. You quickly loaded all the things in the jeep you had found along with the man-sized tarantula that follows you everywhere you go. He took over and loaded the things in the vehicle as you started the engine.

Life in this apocalyptical world showed you the nasty side of human nature. Never in your whole life had you ever thought of seeing people so blood-thirsty. Neither did you ever imagine yourself killing others for the sole purpose of survival. You craved nothing but the peace you had never valued.

After a 10 minutes drive, you arrived at Tarano's house which was huge. Very very huge. The two of you carried your things inside.

"Dude I'm exhausted!" you plopped yourself on the sofa.

"I know right! It was tiring as heck."

He turned his head towards you. You had a grim look on your face.

"What is it?" He asked in a soft voice.

"What are you talking about?" You counter-questioned.

"You have that pensive look on your face. What is it?"

You sighed and gave in.

"I just hope I wake up tomorrow to see that this whole apocalypse was nothing but a lucid dream. I hope to see my family again. I miss them."

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him, your bodies now pressed together.

"I get it... No one could've predicted that a time like this would come. It was too sudden and ruthless."

You felt empty inside. Your parents and your younger brother had been turned into zombies. So, you had no choice but to kill them. You were nothing but a murderer. Killing many people each day. But disregarding the chaos, you were grateful enough to be reunited with Tarano, the person who gave you hope and helped you pull yourself together. The two of you have been together ever since middle school. He had left for Canada last year after promising to make you his bride when he returns as you two have had feelings for each other. But never had you ever perceived that you would meet him in the middle of a whole damn apocalypse. You suffered everyday from what they call 'survivor guilt' and you knew Tarano did as well. So you pledged to be by his side as long as you were alive.

"Wait!" He screamed out of nowhere, scaring the living heck out of you.

"Why you-" You were about to scold him but he, as always, did not let you finish. He jumped off the couch.

"What if we're the only survivors?" He questioned.

That somewhat believable sentence scared you. Just the thought that you two are the only person in this entire universe was enough to give you chills.

"That's terrifying." You answered. "What if we are?" You questioned him.

"I don't know. Maybe we would have the responsibility of the reformation of humanity. You will have no choice but to marry me." He teased.

"Is that a proposal?"

His expression fell.

"Not really. I mean, don't get me wrong. I do want to spend the rest of my life with you. But the time is not right. We don't even know whether we would be able to see the next sunrise or not. Life isn't stable at the moment." He attempted to explain himself. You nodded your head in understanding

"I know. It's okay. Just don't let it get inside your head." You got up and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Besides, I'm right here. And don't forget that worrying gives you wrinkles. Hey- are those wrinkles? Are you becoming a grandpa already?" You make efforts to lighten up the atmosphere. And you succeeded. He let out a chuckle, making you grin. He pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around you. His heartbeat gave you a sense of security. You closed your eyes, taking in the newfound peace.

[bi-kingdom]

Secret Liasons - Maria Hill x OC

A/N: do you ever go through your drafts and realize past you never posted a whole freaking fanfic idea??? Like, even the tags were added?? I just had it sitting there...there's like 2 or 3 posts even 😂

Warnings: mainly fluff

I've been developing the Avengers initiative for over 5 years now, working as a tech developer. But its a little open ended. I've worked on coding programs, delved into physical engineering, and designed prototypes for numerous weapon designs - it's never a one role place. Erik Selvig had even let me assist him with his Tesseract setup in the lowest levels of the facility.

I never wanted to do much but I found myself rising through the ranks until I'd managed to get my hands on my own lab and freedom to develop at my own pace. So long as the higher ups knew I was working on something.

Those higher ups being, Nick Fury, and one step below him, Maria Hill. She'd been my main manager these past 2 years, and to my annoyance, the most invested in my work. Fury I could handle, the man wanted a new QuinJet draft, fine. Here's a draft, and a little red ink later we've got another. But Hill?

No.

She's more thorough than him, more involved. And you'd think all this time spent together would make me dislike her - and I did - for the first couple months. But there was something about her that grew on me, whether it was her fascination in a project of mine or the sheer amount of boss lady energy she radiated. I couldn't deny the blush on my cheeks when she came in for her weekly progress checks.

From then on it was just a freaking free for all, a damn snowball effect. She comes in with absolutely no idea of her effect on me, making notes on my blueprints and assessing a new prototype.

The base evacuation is bittersweet and I hurriedly shove computer hardware into secure lock boxes for transport, but I know that on the other side of this we are moving to the SHIELD Helicarrier. I'd had minimal input with that build, having only been part of the team working on solutions for solving energy output needs and reviewing the ship's cloaking devices. I didn't want to leave this lab, but even in the midst of a full meltdown evac, I'm eager to see the final product up and running.

I must be among the last of us to evacuate to the tunnels leading to the underground exits, one of the vehicles loaded up with my gear as I gesture for the guards to go ahead with it. I'm right behind them. But gunshots ring in these tunnels and I duck behind a pillar as a truck takes off, an odd man with a staff following behind. Hill chasing after them.

The foundation shakes, knocking dust from the concrete overhead. I jump into a remaining jeep and take off into the fray, my heart racing as the tunnels are filled with others fleeing the facility. Eventually I can see two vehicles ahead of me. Agent Hill in her stand-off with the man from before. I can see light ahead, the light at the end of the tunnel. But the foundation gives way behind me and the dust is like rain overhead. I hit the brake as a boulder sized piece of the foundation comes down onto the engine, my arms covering my head as I lay on the seat, my eyes shut to avoid the dust flying about.

I'm not sure how long I wait before I attempt to move. Pinned to the seat, I kick the door over and over with my foot until the door gives way and I can finally slide out of the jeep. I see a slab of the foundation laying over top of the vehicle, the lights flickering nauseatingly and illuminating my near cause of death menacingly. My only saving grace was where the bed of the truck and the top of the engine held up. The frame of the truck is flattened, the tires shoved under the wheel wells. I was that close - that close to being crushed to death.

I cough in the midst of all the dust, waving away at the air. As I recover, the stone leading towards the exit starts to shift. I crouch against the jeep, my heart hammering against my chest.

But to my relief, I see Hill sliding through a crevice, pushing debris out of her way.

"Holy shit I thought there was an aftershock." I huff, coughing as I continue to taste dust in the air.

"How the hell did you make it out alive?" She says once she's finally through.

"Well I'm technically not out yet." I correct, nodding to the caved in tunnel we're in. "And even then, I almost didn't." Hill assesses the jeep, shaking her head.

"You've got a good kick." She compliments, looking at the dent in the door. I smile at her, running my fingers through my hair as I release it from its bun. There's no need for professionalism right now.

Hill extends her hand to me and helps me up, eyeing the path that leads further into the tunnels. She tries finding a loose bit of stone but shakes her head as nothing gives way.

"We'll have to send in rescue teams, try to get all this stone out." I nod, steadying myself against some concrete. She tilts my head up and I hope to god it's dim enough to hide my blush. She touches a spot on my head, her fingers coming back darker than before.

"And get you patched up." She huffs, leading me out of the tunnels.

On the outside, there's a whole mob of SHIELD Agents rallying around to find survivors. A few paramedics rush over to Hill and I and set to work cleaning us up. I end up with a bit of gauze taped to my forehead and some large bruising but other than that I'm one of the lucky ones that didn't get crushed by the collapse.

I'm deemed fit to transport to the Helicarrier, Hill included on board as the recovery efforts get underway below. She sits beside me, leaning forward and staring at the floor of the Helicopter. I nudge her knee with my own in this cramped space. She tilts her head to me.

"Who was that man?" I mutter, my throat still dry from inhaling the air in the collapse.

"Fury didn't say. But it's safe to say that we're at war." She continues to stare at the floor, leaving me wondering what might be going through that battered brain of her's.

[brunette-barbie4562]

Uncharted (Duff McKagan X OC)

Summary: Unsure of her next steps in life, Carreen Joy "CJ" Thompson finds herself taking a job working under the Guns N' Roses bassist Duff McKagan during the Not in the Lifetime... Tour. She faces the fast-paced and foreign world of rock n' roll, touring, and groupies, as well as blossoming taboo feelings for her boss.

-

4

February 2018

On I-5 headed south to Redding, CA

CJ sat in the passenger seat of her aunt’s SUV, looking out the window at the passing snowy landscape. Her expression was blank, and she was silent, but inside she was having a meltdown and trying to not let it leak out onto her face.

“You ok?” She wanted to turn and snap at her aunt in panic induced frustration but held her tongue.

“Ya, just tired and sore. I want to get home and go to bed.” She winced in pain as she shifted her broken wrist which was now in a cast and sling. Thankfully, her hip was just badly bruised. However, her broken bone and bruises were the least of her concerns. Her initial shock had worn off and now her mind was racing. Three months pregnant and she had no fucking clue. There was a whole ass person in there. The doctor had given her an ultrasound picture to take, and she was shocked at how formed and human-like the fetus looked. The size of a peach, is what the doctor had said. There had been no indications. Her stomach was still flat, she hadn’t been sick, and nothing felt different. She had been fatigued, but with the depression she had been in for the past couple of months, that wasn’t abnormal.

What was she going to do? She was still having a hard time believing it. She had not been on birth control during the time she and Duff had been together. She had decided against it when he had told her he had a vasectomy. Another poor choice.

CJ had always been unsure about children. She enjoyed spending time with kids, but the idea of being a mother had frightened her for most of her life, and she could not completely articulate why. Deep down, she knew a part of her had always been irrationally afraid that she would be a bad mother, much like her own. She was still unsure. She knew she had options, but her mind was reeling too rapidly for her to think straight about it. She was just focused on keeping her breathing calm and not appearing outwardly distressed to her aunt.

She could not call him. She would not. Fuck him. This was none of his business. He wanted nothing to do with her, that had been clear. At the thought, tears welled up in her eyes. She discreetly wiped them away.

“I can clean and put up your gear if you wanna go in and rest.” CJ surfaced from her own thoughts to the sound of Mindy’s voice and realized they were home.

“Thanks,” she said, managing a small smile of gratitude towards her aunt before hopping out of the car. Her own car, an older model black Jeep Wrangler, pulled up with Michelle sitting in the driver’s seat. CJ stiffly made her way to the front door and unlocked it. The house was warm and inviting. She went to set her discharge paperwork down on the kitchen table and then thought better of it. She did not need her aunt or Michelle looking through it. She hobbled to her room and quickly shut the door behind her. She needed solitude to think clearly. With her good hand, she slowly pulled all of her clothes off and made her way over to the dresser to grab a pair of comfortable sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt. On the way, she passed by the full-length mirror on the wall. She looked pitiful. Her face was marred with exhaustion and her dark black and purple bruised hip looked gross. She cringed at her own appearance but took a closer look at herself. She tried to see some sign of pregnancy on her body, turning to the side. She ran her hand down her breasts and stomach. Everything looked and felt the same, there was not even a hint of a bump. She wanted to believe that the doctor was wrong. Doctors get things wrong sometimes. That’s what she was going to tell herself so she could lay down and get some much-needed sleep. She’d go get a second opinion later this week. She tried not to think about the ultrasound picture still in her pants pocket on the floor with the clear, undisputable proof.

CJ managed to dress herself and crawled into her bed. Any concerns about being unable to sleep melted away as her exhaustion took over and she drifted into slumber.

-

May 2017

Conrad Dublin Hotel / Dublin, Ireland

CJ woke up with a start. For a moment she was confused as to where she was. Her memory came rushing back to her and she glanced over at the bedside clock to see it was 10:00 A.M. She lay there for a moment in the darkness and solitude of her room. The soft white noise of the air system made her want to roll back into the soft blankets and fall back asleep. She had expected to have some trouble falling asleep last night due to jet lag, but she had been so exhausted it hadn’t mattered. She must have fallen asleep soon after her head hit the pillow.

She slowly sat up and looked at her phone. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the brightness of the screen to see no notifications. She thought about texting Axl to let him know she was awake but figured it would be better to wait. She needed to make herself look presentable if she’d be meeting people today. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and got up to rummage through her bag for her makeup.

-

Duff knocked on the door of Axl’s suite, looking around the empty hallway as he waited for him to answer. The door opened and revealed Beta. She smiled up at him and said,

“Morning Duff, come on in.”

“How are you today, Beta,” he said as he walked through the doorway.

“I’m well.” He spotted Axl sitting at his desk, working on his laptop. There was a spread of fruit and pastries on the nearby counter. He swiped a chocolate glazed croissant before taking a seat on the couch next to Axl, who had yet to look away from the screen. Duff took a bite of his croissant and said,

“So, where’s this assistant?” Axl stopped what he was doing and looked over at him.

“Sleeping still, I think.” Duff thought back again to the days and nights they spent on Sunset and Mindy Thompson’s frequent glares of annoyance at him.

“I’m surprised Mindy allowed him to come out here to work for me. She never did like me much.”

“Her, it’s a her. And I didn’t tell Mindy it was for you.” Duff almost choked on his croissant.

“A her?!” Axl gave him a look of annoyance.

“Ya it’s her niece.” Duff had heard the name CJ and assumed it was a man.

“You didn’t tell me you got me a female personal assistant.”

“I didn’t think it mattered.” Wide-eyed Duff said,

“It absolutely does matter, Axl.”

“It’ll be fine.” Duff took a deep breath to calm his flare of anger at Axl’s dismissiveness. He found himself again wishing he had just taken the task of finding an assistant into his own hands.

“It will not be fine. You know what people will say if I have a young woman trailing me all over the place on tour.” He could see the tabloid and online forum headlines now. Headlines his family would see. Headlines Mindy would see about her precious niece and undoubtedly call to chew him out over. Axl’s phone lit up and he opened it to look.

“Oh good, she’s awake, I’ll tell her to come over so you two can meet and you can show her the ropes.” He opened his mouth as if to respond, but he couldn’t say anything, in disbelief over the entire situation. Axl saw the frustration in his face and said, “It’ll be great.” Duff couldn’t help but slightly raise his voice.

“I’ll look like a fucking creep. Like I’ve hired a personal bang maid to follow me around on tour.”

“Oh please, you’re overthinking it.” Duff was starting to see red.

“I’m not over-” A knock on the door cut him off. Instead of waiting for Beta, Axl jumped up and went to the door to open it.

“Hey CJ,” he spoke warmly as he appeared to hug the figure in the doorway, “come on in.” Axl shifted out of the way and in walked the brunette he had seen in the hallway the night before. The voice of the devil on his shoulder entered his head. She’d make a good little bang maid. He pushed his dark thoughts to the back of his mind as she approached him with a shy smile. She stood tall for a woman and her brown leather heeled boots boosted her up enough so that she nearly met his gaze head on. She wore a pair of black tight pants that hugged her curves and a loose-fitting white long-sleeved V-neck blouse. Her face appeared as beautiful as the night before, framed by her thick hip-length hair, and accented with light makeup. The sheen of her glossed plump lips caught his eye.  God damn he was in trouble.

-

“CJ meet Duff, Duff meet CJ.” Axl sounded pleased with himself as he moved to sit back down at his computer with a smirk. CJ recognized the tall blonde immediately from the hallway the night before. When she met his green gaze, she felt her heart quicken and a wave of butterflies rise in her stomach. It was a feeling almost completely unfamiliar to her in a context that wasn’t due to fear-induced adrenaline. CJ had a few boyfriends in high school and college, but none of them had induced such a strong physical response. She may have turned and run from him if he didn’t exude such a strong feeling of safety. He held his hand out to her and said,

“It’s nice to meet you CJ.” She took his hand to shake it and felt the rough texture of his fingers. She looked back up at his face and there was a roguish glint in his eyes that intensified the butterflies in her stomach.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” She suddenly felt shy. Axl spoke up and saved her as she tried to think of what to say next. He spoke more directly to her, rather than Duff.

“You two take some time to get acquainted. We have a group dinner planned for tonight in the restaurant downstairs at 6:00. You’ll get to meet most of the others there.” Duff moved past her towards the door and said,

“We’ll see you then,” He smiled at her and said, “C’mon kiddo, I’ll show you the ropes.” CJ shot one last smile of gratitude back at Axl before turning and following. They left the room, with CJ trailing behind Duff.

“So, did you have any trouble getting here?” She caught up so she was walking beside him.

“No, no trouble. I flew out of Sacramento, so there was a layover, but it wasn’t bad.” He approached a suite door and swiped his card. The door clicked open. His room was similar to Axl’s, and she was yet again impressed with the luxury. Duff tossed his key card down on the marble counter of the mini bar and went to open the curtains. The room was neat and looked barely lived in. It was set up be a living room area. There were a few sofas, a flat screen, and a small office space in the corner. As Duff pulled back the curtains, the sun spilled in, temporarily blinding her until her eyesight adjusted.

“Sacramento? Is that where Mindy ended up?” With his question about her aunt, CJ snapped out of her wonderment at the size of the hotel room.

“Redding.” Duff turned to look at her with a slight smirk.

“I never thought Mindy would end up in a place like Redding.” CJ didn’t know whether he was being offensive or not.

“What do you mean by that?” Duff heard the slight defensiveness in her tone and turned to look at her with a smile.

“Nothing, I just meant someplace so rural.” CJ did not want to elaborate as to why her aunt had left the busy city life of the Sunset Strip for a quiet life in the backwoods.

“It’s beautiful there, a lot of places to hike and explore.”

“It is,” he said, opening the fridge and grabbing a soda. “Want one?”

“I’ll take a water, thanks.” He grabbed a bottle out and got up to hand it to her. As he entered her space again, she felt the butterflies re-ignite inside of her. He sat down on the couch and opened a laptop sitting on the coffee table. She stood there, feeling awkward, unsure if he wanted her to sit with him. He looked up at her from underneath a tuft of blonde hair with amusement.

“You can sit, I won’t bite.”

“That’s not what my aunt says.” The words had playfully left her mouth before she had even thought about it. Now she was mortified with herself. To her relief, he began to laugh and did not appear offended.

“Mindy would say that. Now come sit.” CJ set her bag down on the side table and sat down on the couch next to him, hyper aware of her closeness to him. She needed to get over whatever it was she was feeling and focus. She was here to do a job. As the computer booted up, Duff said,

“Did you grow up there?” She realized he was talking about Redding and didn’t know how to answer the question, not wanting to get into her childhood with someone who was basically a stranger.

“Yes, well sort of. From the time I was about 7.” She was saved from any potential follow-up questions when the desktop flashed on, a picture of what appeared to be a much younger Duff, with two small girls, one blonde and one brunette, hanging off of him. All three had grins on their faces.

“Those are my daughters, Grace and Mae.” CJ smiled and said,

“They’re so cute!”

“They’re 19 and 16 now, hopefully you’ll be able to meet them at some point. They have all their own activities going on and things with their mom, it’s hard to find a time they can both come out.” His mind appeared to be elsewhere for a brief moment before he snapped out of it and re-focused on the computer. “I’ll give you a run down of everything my old assistant used to do. I don’t think you should have any trouble, it’s pretty simple stuff.” He opened his email. “He’d usually start the day by checking and answering emails or making phone calls if it is needed. Some of them might be interview or partnership requests. Before you answer those, you can run them by me.”

“Seems like what I’d do at my aunt’s office. A lot of emails and phone calls.”

“It is,” he said, “Most of what you’ll do is during shows. I do a few wardrobe and guitar changes. So before shows you’ll get everything together that I need to bring to the venue and help me change and swap out guitars during the show.” The prospect of helping him change his clothing made CJ’s face redden. “I’ll give you a list of the things I’ll need before the show, so you’ll know. It’s most of the same stuff every time.” He appeared to think for a moment before continuing. “Other than that, there’s not much else. Sometimes I need someone to run small errands, like to get coffee, but that’s usually only on show days.”

“Sounds good to me. Whatever you need from me.” He flashed her a handsome smile that re-awoke the butterflies.

“Just don’t be afraid to ask questions.” Duff turned off his laptop before closing it. “Oh! There is one more thing.” He pulled out his phone and opened Instagram. “I do tend to make my own posts on social media, but sometimes I would have my assistant do it. I’ll take any advice or suggestions you have; social media is not my strong suit. You probably know more about it than I do, seeing as you’re a millennial.” There was a slightly teasing tone to his voice. She laughed and said,

“You’ll be disappointed to know that I barely spend time on social media.”

“Well, you’re still probably quicker at it than I am,” he said with a smirk.

“Ok boomer,” she shot back at him.

“Are you assuming my age right now?”

“Maybe I am.” Pleased with herself for matching his playful banter, CJ was quickly feeling any anxiety or awkwardness left inside of her melt away.

“I’ll email you the login info for all my accounts so you can access them from your laptop and phone. How about starting officially tomorrow?”

“Ya, when should I be up?”

“11:00 is fine. There’s no real rush. But on show days, things are a bit busier. I’ll let you know the day before what the schedule will be.” CJ smiled, relieved that things seemed so laidback. Working for Duff seemed like it was going to be relatively easy and fun. She wasn’t sure what issues her aunt had had with him.

“This is a lot better than working at my aunt’s office.”

“What did you aunt have you doing?”

“A lot of the same things, you know, minus the concerts and traveling. But she can be pretty particular about stuff.” CJ enjoyed working for her aunt, but Mindy could micromanage things when she became anxious or overwhelmed. It was an issue that CJ occasionally had to remind her about so she would back off a bit.

The sound of CJ’s phone ringing in her pocket made her jump. She pulled it out to see Mindy calling. She turned to Duff and said,

“I better take this, or she’ll think I’ve been kidnapped.” CJ answered and put the phone to her ear. “Hey, I was just talking about you.”

“Oh?”

“I’m here with Duff, going over things.” Mindy’s tone changed and she said,

“Not being any trouble, is he?” Before she could answer she felt Duff gently slip the phone from her ear and press it to his own with a mischievous grin, having heard their conversation.

“Mindy, I’m crushed that you think I would cause any trouble for your lovely niece,” he said in a playful tone, side-eying her as he spoke. There was silence on the other end for a moment before CJ heard her aunt speak.

“It’s nice to talk to you again Duff. What has it been? 25, 30 years?”

“27 or 28, I think. God we are old now, aren’t we? Your niece pointed it out to me earlier.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Listen, CJ won’t have any trouble here. She will be taken care of with us, you don’t need to worry.”

“She better McKagan, or it’ll be you I come for.” Instead of continuing to tease her aunt, Duff appeared to shift into speaking in a more serious tone, the playful edge gone.

“I will keep a close eye on her Mindy. Nothing will happen to her. I give you my word. She’s my responsibility.” There was silence on the other end. “I have two of my own, I know how you feel.” That seemed to satisfy her aunt, at least for the time being.

“Thank you,” said Mindy. “Now can I go back to talking to my kid?” He handed the phone back to CJ, the tension broken. As much as CJ appreciated the care for her wellbeing, she suddenly felt like a child. Her aunt tended to baby her and be overprotective, forgetting that she was a 28-year-old woman. It had always been a mild annoyance to CJ, but now it was painfully obvious, and she felt embarrassed. She pressed the phone back to her ear and said,

“Hey, we are finishing up, I’ll call you back when I get to my room.”

-

CJ did not immediately call Mindy back and instead hit the gym to relieve her embarrassment and anger. Her aunt’s overprotectiveness had never been a major issue. She had slowly come to realize that she had led a relatively sheltered life under her care, minus her time in college. It made sense, given her situation with her mother and all the time her aunt had spent worrying about her as a child. She tried to tell herself this as she finished up her workout.

After getting back from the gym she called Mindy, and they had a short conversation about her mini vacation with Michelle. When she got off the phone she considered going and exploring Dublin, but she decided to instead shower and do some afternoon reading before she had to get ready for dinner.

-

It was 5:45 P.M., Duff sat on his bed, dressed and ready for dinner, staring at the contacts list on his phone, debating on whether or not he should text CJ and ask her if she wanted to walk downstairs with him to the restaurant. Although he had acted calmly on the call with Mindy, he had internalized her words, as well as his own. CJ was his responsibility. And he didn’t doubt for a second that Mindy would have his balls if anything actually did happen to her while on tour. But he also didn’t want to seem like he was being a controlling boss or watching her every move. Just act how you would with Grace. As his daughters had grown, he had learned when to back off. But this was not his kid. Definitely not your kid. He quickly stopped his mind from wandering back to his initial attraction to CJ. Going over the job description with her had helped him get on a more professional mindset. Additionally, his conversation with Mindy had forced any dirty thoughts he had to the far back corner of his mind. She’s just a kid. She’s your employee. Treat her as such.

Duff stood up and slipped his phone into his back pocket before grabbing his wallet and leaving the room. The time he had spent debating whether to text CJ became irrelevant when he saw her already standing by the elevator, waiting to go downstairs. She had changed into a long black strapless jumpsuit with a gold chain belt cinched around her waist. She had to have been wearing heels underneath the jumpsuit because she stood almost as tall as him. He took a deep breath. She’s just a kid. She’s your employee. Treat her as such.

CJ had noticed him before he had said anything. She smiled at him and said, “Oh good, I was hoping I’d see someone.” The elevator doors opened, and they stepped in. He turned to her and asked,

“Are you nervous?”

“A little,” she admitted, “I didn’t know how big of a crowd it would be.”

“It shouldn’t be a lot, just the band members, some of their family members, and some crew members.”

“That sounds like a lot,” she said with a laugh.

“Well don’t worry, you can stick with me, and I’ll introduce you to everyone.” She appeared to visibly relax with that. When the elevator doors opened, Duff was pleased to see the lobby was vacant. The restaurant was across the lobby, and he approached the podium. The hostess must have recognized him and did not ask for identification or name and took them back to the private room Axl had reserved.

Axl was already there with Beta, seated in a lounge chair, drink in hand. He had seen them enter and got up to greet them.

“I’m glad to see you two here,” he turned to CJ speaking more directly to her. “How was your afternoon?”

“It was nice, I just relaxed and did some reading.” Duff made a mental note to ask her at some point about her reading preferences. As CJ continued to chat with Axl, Duff scanned the room. Slash and Meegan were not there yet, but someone else was. He could feel her gaze burning into him. Seated in the corner with a few other crew members was a middle-aged red-headed woman. She had been watching him darkly with her blue gaze, but had also zeroed in on CJ standing next to him. She stood up out of her seat, straightening her champagne-colored dress before striding over towards them. Fuck. As CJ finished her conversation with Axl, she turned back to him. As she opened her mouth to speak to him, she was interrupted by the red head approaching them.

“Hello Duff and….?”

“Hey Vanessa,” he said, forcing a small smile. “This is CJ, my new personal assistant. CJ, this is Vanessa, one of the band photographers.”

“New assistant?” said Vanessa in an overly sweet voice. “What happened to the old one?”

“He had a family emergency,” he said, “Couldn’t make it on this leg of the tour.”

“And where’d you find this one?” Vanessa spoke as if CJ was not standing there. To his surprise, CJ chimed in.

“I’m one of Axl’s friends. It’s nice to meet you.” CJ held out her hand to Vanessa, who paused for a moment before reaching up and stiffly shaking it with a tight smile. Wanting out of the situation, Duff said,

“Well, we’ll go find our seats. It was nice seeing you, Vanessa.” He lightly put his arm around CJ and gently guided her over towards the table where Axl had set his things down and Slash had just arrived at. CJ laughed nervously and said,

“She was um-, nice.” Duff had not thought about having to see Vanessa. They had spent a few nights in bed together on the last leg of the tour, but it had not gone beyond that. She had wanted more from him and become somewhat possessive towards the end of the last leg. He thought maybe with the break things would cool down, but it clearly hadn’t. Having CJ with him almost constantly would just add fuel to the fire. But Duff could not explain this to CJ.

“She’s just, slow to warm up to people.”

Duff took a seat next to CJ at the table, across from Slash and Meegan. Meegan looked up from her menu and said,

“You must be CJ, it’s so nice to meet you, I’m Meegan.” Duff was surprised that Meegan already knew CJ’s name, but she usually seemed to know what was going on, sometimes quicker than he did.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” said CJ.

“CJ, this is Slash, the band’s lead guitarist, and his girlfriend, Meegan Hodges,” said Duff. Slash reached over to shake her hand and said,

“It’s nice to meet you CJ.” He leaned back in his seat with a small smile and said, “Man, I could tell you some stories about your aunt.” Meegan gave him a light playful tap in the ribs and said,

“Leave the girl alone, she doesn’t need to hear about that right now.” Duff met Slash’s gaze and smirked with mutual knowledge. Meegan had spotted the bartender walk behind the counter, ready to take more drink orders. She turned to CJ and said,

“Wanna come get a drink with me?” CJ smiled and nodded. Duff was relieved that she hadn’t been flustered by Vanessa and had found someone to connect with besides himself or Axl. The two women got up and walked towards the bar. Once they were out of earshot, Slash turned to him with a devilish expression.

“You fucking lucky bastard.” Duff knew this was coming with Slash.

“Stop.”

“You cannot tell me that you wouldn’t-”

“Stop.” Slash scoffed at him.

“Oh, come on. If this was 30 years ago, you’d-”

“Stop.”

“I can’t believe that’s Mindy’s kid.”

“Niece, she’s her niece.”

“What’s the situation there?” Duff had wondered that himself. It was not appropriate to ask CJ such a blatant question, but he couldn’t help but wonder how she had ended up in the custody of her aunt as a kid.

“I don’t know.” Slash appeared to resign to the fact that Duff was not going to answer any of his questions. He picked up his menu and opened it with a flourish, eyeing him playfully over the top of it and said,

“Well, you just let me know if anything happens with her.” Duff opened his own menu and looked down at it while saying,

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit, you don’t know what I’m talking about.” CJ and Meegan returned to the table, each holding a glass of wine, officially ending the conversation. But it didn’t stop Slash from glancing fiendishly at him across the table for the rest of the night.

[paved-un-paved]

Review: f-stop Gear Loka 37L Backpack

My wife says I have too many camera bags, while I always feel that there's room for at least one more. A bag for every situation, right? But it's good that she tells me that; it keeps me in check, because otherwise we might have a room full of packs and bags. As a result, I tend to "try out" a pack for a while and, if it doesn't fit my flow when I'm out there, I put it out back on the market and get something else. I tend to buy gently used, or last year's model, to save a little. And that's why this review is for a pack that is no longer sold new, f-stop's Loka - but you can buy the newer ultralight (UL) version from their site, and from all accounts, it's an improvement on an already impressive pack.

I had always gravitated toward the f-stop brand: rugged, durable, good-looking camera packs made for photographers who push their gear more than most, and who might need to pack more than most. Before covering endurance sports, I was happy to shoot with just one camera body and a couple of lenses. Now I wouldn't want to shoot a cycling race without my two Nikon bodies at hand, one with an ultrawide lens and the other with a tele. I also like to use HSS flash, on or off-camera, so I need the battery pack to go with it. And all the other usual stuff: batteries, cards, snacks, cords, and so on. I tried the Lowepro Whistler 350 for about a year, and always came home with a backache. Great pack, but hoofing it around a race course all day made every one of its pain points terribly apparent. After some patient searching, I found a used Loka 37L at a good price, and "traded up", as I do.

If you know about f-stop bags, then you've probably heard about their modular design. While some might say that buying inserts separately from the pack adds to the expense of a new bag, it's part of what makes these backpacks special - and cost-effective. How many times have you found a pack that seemed just right on the outside, but you really wished the inside compartment had been designed completely differently? With the Loka (and all of f-stop's other packs) you can pick the insert from their selection of Internal Camera Units (ICU's) that best fits what you want to carry. For me, the Pro Large ICU fits everything just right. So that fits a Nikon D4 with 70-200/4 attached, a Nikon Z 6 with an ultrawide on it, a GoPro, a flash, and accessories. All very well protected in the ICU, accessible by a big zippered flap on the back of the pack. Then there's a bunch of room on top of the ICU, which you can reach easily through the top zipper. Here I keep a rain jacket for me, one for the camera, and an f-stop Accessory Pouch. There is still room in there for more - including my laptop, in its own protected pocket.

Now on the outside of the Loka, there is a small top zippered pocket. This holds my snacks, business cards, and sunscreen. On the front, there is a large compartment with plenty of room for my battery pouches. Two side pockets hold my big Nalgene bottle on one side, and the tripod on the other. Some quick specs on the original f-stop Loka 37L

37 liter capacity

Weight: 3.45lbs (without ICU)

Meets international carry on size specifications

Designed to fit up to a Pro Large ICU

Aluminum internal frame

EVA padded waist and shoulder pads

DWR treated, 330D double Ripstop Nylon with 1500mm Polyurethane coating

Heavy-duty zippers

Honestly, there is so much versatile carrying capacity in the Loka that it's easy to just cram it with stuff, but I have been pretty good about keeping it light. Things like the laptop don't go on races or hikes with me, but it's great to be able to transport it from home to the Jeep or elsewhere without having to take another bag or case just for it. Speaking of hikes, I could see myself going on a thru-hike in the Grand Canyon in this pack, with a smaller ICU inside for just one camera body, and the rest of the bag to hold all the camping essentials. I even have f-stop's tough Gatekeeper straps, designed to clip onto the outside of the pack so I could strap down a sleeping bag, mat, and whatever else. (The snazzy Gatekeeper straps you see here, and all the orange accents, are part of the Nasturtium color kit I have on my pack.)

So how comfortable is the Loka? It takes a little adjustment, but once dialed in, the pack is pretty easy on my back, even when weighed down with everything I might carry in it. The waist belt really helps, as do the padded shoulder straps, but it's the internal aluminum frame that makes carrying this big backpack a lot easier than it ought to be. I've lugged it around during all-day races on a hilly course, and didn't end up with a sore back.

The pack really is tough, too. It gets emptied out and tossed to the side at races, hung from trees or railings, dragged through branches and brush on hikes through the Florida Everglades, and pulled in and out of the Jeep several times a day. The Loka is up for all that and a whole lot worse.

The best thing I can say about the f-stop Loka? It's the only backpack I've had that I have not thought of replacing.

[amazing7519]

Larry as Big Daddy O fanmade story Part 3

5 December 2024

 

Larry’s time to date (or mate) had come on Friday night. Samantha wanted to repeat her sex capades with Larry on this night of passion.  Larry picked up Samantha at her beach dorm, which was a small outdoor cabin built for temp students. No brick and mortar dorms out here. Anyway, Larry was cool as a cucumber. He dressed in light clothing, beach shorts and a vest. Samantha came with him in her bikini. Samantha did not mention any surprise until they drove down to the beach.  The sun set down at the horizon until the stars pricked the night skies with their sparkling light. Larry and Samantha walked over to under the boardwalk and made passionate love.

Larry: So what is it this surprise you promised?

Samantha: I brought a friend of mine over. I hope you don’t mind a threesome?

Larry: Not at all! My libido has room for a threesome! Where is the lucky lady?

Bikini girl 2: Here I am! Pamela is my name!

Larry: Hi, Pamela! Welcome to my private paradise! It’s a good thing you came early.

Pamela: Why is that?

Larry: It will take me all night to fuck you both!

Samantha: That’s okay, Larry. Last time I was with you we rushed our sex. Now this time I would like to pleasure you slowly.

Pamela: I’m got the stamina to take you to the next level, Larry dear.

Larry: I’m so happy to have a threesome!

 

Larry takes it slow and good with his two nymphomaniac gals. Sam and Pam take turns getting cum pumped out of Larry’s penis. After two full hours the three are exhausted. Larry looks at his watch and it reads 9pm. Sam slaps Larry’s face and goes in again to make Larry cum up one more time. Pam feels dehydrated so she drinks a can of Red Bull and gets herself back into the sex orgy. An hour passes and the three are exhausted.

 

Larry: You did a fine job, girls! I didn’t know you had so much energy!

Pamela: I thought you told me this guy was like the Italian Stallion!

Samantha: He doesn’t look like much but I love the fire in his loins! The thrusting he gave to me was fantastic!

Pamela: Yeah, you got that right. Has anyone seen my bikini top?

Samantha: It’s here! Larry must have been using it as a G-string!

Pamela: Shit, it smells like Larry’s balls!

Larry: I don’t smell that bad even after a good night of sex!

Pamela: Well, I’m going back to my Jeep! Good night! And by the way, Larry, you are my Daddy too!

Samantha: No, he’s my Daddy!

Larry: Girls! Don’t fight over me!

Samantha: She’s a fun girl, hey Larry?

Larry: She is the full package!

Samantha: And me? I’ve got the goods don’t I?

Larry: Of course you do! You gave me a night I will remember forever!

Samantha: I don’t know why other men think about me the same way. I seem to get lucky only with you. What’s your secret?

Larry: The secret is that there is no real secret. It is perhaps my animal magnetism that attracts any female to me.

Samantha: Oh, that animal magnetism is your secret hey? That should make up for your small stature. It figures.

Larry: Looks are deceiving. Even the size of my cock is deceiving but that does not stop me from getting laid.

Samantha: Why are you single, Larry?

Larry: I am enjoying life on my own terms. I’m not ready for a relationship.

Samantha: Not mature enough for a relationship I suppose.

Larry: The fun stops when couples get married. Then its downhill from there.

Samantha: Too bad. I was looking for a relationship my whole life. I’m not sure if you’re the right guy for me.

Larry: The flings we are having are just for fun. Whenever I fuck girls its just for fun. No strings attached.

Samantha: Friends with benefits that’s your thing. Well, I guess we keep on fucking each other until we get hit the jackpot?

Larry: That’s why they call me Fuckable Larry!

Samantha: My Fuckable Larry, you’re all mine!

 

Juno was getting herself ready for cleaning out the bee hives outside in her backyard. She was a honeybee specialist and a purveyor of locally sourced honey in her town. She spent a full hr cleaning out the bee hives so that the bees could produce more honey. This time the honeybees produced sufficient honey for two large bottles or for 10 smaller bottles to be sold at the flea market. Juno took pride in her vocation as she took good care of her honeybees. Her date with Larry was fresh on her mind. She didn’t have any expectations when  it came to dating men. She put her men at ease by not expecting too much from them. Juno didn’t like men who were either braggers or clowns who like to embarrass her with their verbosity. She didn’t like men who talked about sex all the time as if they were an expert on the subject.  No, she was craving romance with a hint of sex. Her blind date with Larry was going to be one where she is in control of the situation. She watched a lot of TV shows where the Alpha female dominated the prissy male. She felt it was her destiny to dominate the Male species but with Larry it seemed that he would be her first challenge. Boy, does she love a challenge!

Larry picked up Juno at eight at her beach home. He drove them to his favourite restaurant for a delicious dinner.  Afterwards it was a showdown at his apartment. Larry proved himself a beast under the sheets and Juno gave him the best oral sex since forever. But Larry doesn’t keep track of every sexual conquests so this one was for the record books.

 

Larry: Gosh, Juno! It feels like you wish to dominate me all night! When do I get my turn!

Juno: Ha! I know you men so well! You think you can dominate all women but you haven’t met your match yet, Buster!

Larry: What is that supposed to mean? Am I not good enough for you?

Juno: Larry, I am your bitch! Your Alpha bitch! We should try some BDSM on our next date!

Larry: You are a Rough Rider female! I was hoping for us to take it slow and easy.

Juno: Slow and easy? Fuck that! I am the rider and you’re my horse! I prefer to ride my men all the way until they cum!

Larry: Hopefully there is a full load of cum in my testicles!

Juno: It will be mine, all mine!

Larry: All this humping, I wonder where it is going?

Juno: I brought my honey jars with me. I’m gonna fill up my honey jars with your cum!

Larry: Your pussy is like a honey jar for my cum. I bet it is safer there inside your pisdy and not in glass jars?

Juno: Naughty boy! My honey jars are the best for bottling up cum especially if it comes from you!

Larry: Oh shit! Here it comes!

 

Larry’s cum exploded from his penis but Juno was ready with her honey jars to catch and store it. Larry felt relieved after that big squirt. Juno slurped up a sample of Larry’s cum and tasted its quality.

 

Juno: Not bad, Larry, not bad.

Larry: Does my cum tantalize your taste buds?

Juno: Yes, it does. Larry, you produce good cum of the premium kind.

Larry: Nothing satisfies a woman like a man’s cum!

Juno: Yours tastes like honey with a hint of pineapple and peppermint.  The texture is like thick jelly.

Larry: Sweets for my sweet, cum for my honeybee.

Juno: We must date more often, Larry.

Larry: So that you could enjoy sampling my cum?

Juno: No, that we can experiment with BDSM.

Larry: I don’t know if we should do it like that with the whips and leather strips. Sex doesn’t need to be painful to be enjoyed.

Juno: Oh no? For you, Larry, I will make it less painful and more pleasurable. I said we ought to do BDSM even for fun.

Larry: My cock might get traumatized.

Juno: If you were an Alpha male you won’t be afraid of a little pain. BDSM can be fun. Pain can be fun.

Larry: I think I’ll take a rain check. My poor cock will be drilled, I know it.

Juno: BDSM does not target dicks as far as I know.  But your ass has a target on it! Boy, I am wishing to give your small sweet ass a whipping it deserves!

Larry: I have sunburn on my ass and…

Juno: I have had it with you, Larry! You are full of excuses! BDSM is not what you think it is. Come on, it’s what everyone is doing!

Larry: I will pass this time. Maybe you should try out a sex routine that is better than BDSM?

Juno: You men are all wimps! I need a man who loves, no, worships BDSM and it is certainly not you, Larry!

 

Juno jumps out of Larry’s bed, grabs her clothes and runs out of the hotel. Larry climbs out of bed with the bedsheets wrapped around his waist. He is not sorry that Juno jumped ship. Juno is unlike Samantha and Pamela.  BDSM was not his style. If only he was taller and muscular,  he thought, then he could enjoy BDSM as much as Juno did. But his small stature, his sunburnt ass cheeks and his throbbing sore cock meant that BDSM was our of the question.  Larry went to sleep at the hotel. Tomorrow he had to coach Harry about losing his virginity to any girl. And pick up his new Leisure suit too.

[fabteccars]

Various Types of Buy Car Active Bass Tubes Online

Car audio systems have evolved significantly over the years, with the growing demand for powerful bass and clear sound quality. One essential component that enhances the depth and quality of sound in a vehicle is the car active bass tube. These bass tubes are designed to provide a full range of bass, offering a punchy low-end frequency response. They come with built-in amplifiers and are easier to install compared to passive subwoofers. Let’s dive into the types of car active bass tubes to buy online and what makes them a great addition to your car's sound system.

1. Compact Active Bass Tubes

For car owners with limited space, compact car active bass tubes to buy online are an excellent option. These tubes are designed to fit into tight spaces while still delivering a strong bass response. They often come in sizes as small as 8 inches, making them ideal for smaller cars where trunk space is limited. Despite their compact size, they feature built-in amplifiers that provide adequate power for a satisfying bass experience. If you prioritize space but don't want to compromise on sound quality, this type is a perfect choice.

2. High-Power Active Bass Tubes

For enthusiasts seeking loud, deep, and booming bass, high-power active bass tubes by Fabtec are the go-to option. These tubes are larger, usually ranging from 10 to 12 inches in diameter, and are powered by more robust amplifiers. They are designed for people who crave a powerful bass experience, making them ideal for larger vehicles like SUVs and trucks. These bass tubes come with advanced features like high power output, adjustable bass boost, and remote bass control, allowing users to customize their sound preferences easily.

3. Slim Active Bass Tubes

Some car owners prefer a low-profile, subtle setup without losing the quality of bass output. Slim car active bass tubes to buy online are engineered to be slim and unobtrusive, making them a great fit under car seats or along the sides of the trunk. They are usually equipped with slim, high-output drivers, ensuring you get rich and deep bass despite the sleek design. The slim form factor ensures they are easy to install and integrate well with other parts of the vehicle’s interior without taking up much space.

4. Waterproof Active Bass Tubes

For off-road enthusiasts or individuals who live in areas with unpredictable weather conditions, waterproof car active bass tubes to buy online are a must. These tubes are built to withstand exposure to moisture and dust, ensuring durability and performance even in tough environments. They are great for open vehicles like jeeps or trucks where exposure to elements is common. With a waterproof enclosure and corrosion-resistant components, these bass tubes guarantee consistent performance without worrying about weather damage.

5. Bluetooth-Enabled Active Bass Tubes

Bluetooth-enabled active bass tubes by Fabtec are perfect for those looking for wireless convenience. These tubes come equipped with Bluetooth receivers, allowing users to stream music directly from their smartphones or other Bluetooth-enabled devices. This eliminates the need for additional cables, making the installation process simpler. Bluetooth bass tubes are a great option for anyone seeking modern features and ease of use in their car audio system.

Conclusion

When it comes to upgrading your car's audio system, car active bass tubes to buy online can make a huge difference. Whether you are looking for a compact, high-power, slim, waterproof, or Bluetooth-enabled bass tube, there are plenty of options available online. Each type offers distinct advantages depending on your needs, space, and preference for sound quality. Exploring the diverse range of bass tubes online will help you find the perfect match for your vehicle, ensuring an immersive and enjoyable music experience on the road. To get more details, visit https://www.fabtec.co.in/product-category/car-active-bass-tubes/.