#yeah i said this was going to be out this weekend but I got the chance to finish it!!!!

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ʙᴜᴢᴢᴇᴅ

caffeine, anger, anxiety, emotional tension, hurt/comfort, guilt, miscommunication, apology, self-awareness, light teasing

based off this request!

word count - 850ish

You’d never been much of a caffeine drinker, but today, you decided to give it a go. Just one coffee, you told yourself. Nothing too crazy. But as soon as you took that first sip, you felt the buzz start to kick in. Your thoughts were racing, and before you knew it, you were talking at a mile a minute.

“So, I was thinking we could go to that new café this weekend, right? I heard they have these amazing pastries, and oh, did I tell you about the movie I saw last night? The main character was hilarious, I swear, I want to be her friend, and the lighting was incredible, like, the whole aesthetic was perfect, and I just can’t stop thinking about it, and, oh! Wait, no, there was something else I wanted to say, oh yeah! Have you tried that new thing at McDonalds they just started selling?"

Chris, on the other hand, had just gotten back from a rough day and was barely holding it together. The energy you were radiating was overwhelming, and the caffeine was making you talk even faster. He tried to keep up, nodding a little, but it was getting harder to focus with each word.

Eventually, the pressure built up, and he snapped.

"Could you just... stop for a second?" His voice was sharper than he meant it to be, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "I’ve had a long day, alright? Just... just stop talking."

You froze immediately. The sharpness in his tone hit you harder than you expected, and your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t realised you were talking so much. You stared at him, blinking rapidly, and you felt your chest tighten, a wave of guilt washing over you.

Chris was still standing there, his arms crossed, his eyes averted. His frustration wasn’t just with you, it was with himself, and he was trying to hold it together, but he didn’t know how to get out of this moment. His jaw clenched as he turned away, rubbing his face with one hand. "I’m sorry," he muttered, his voice rough. "It’s not you. I just... I had a shitty day, and the coffee’s got you talking a lot, and I don’t-"

His eyes flicked back to you, and he stopped mid-sentence. You were standing there, silent, your eyes glassy. It took him a moment to realize why the silence felt so heavy. It was because your eyes were brimming with unshed tears. “M’sorry, Chris”, you mumble.

His heart sank. Shit.

"I didn’t mean to-" He took a step toward you, his frustration suddenly replaced with guilt. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head as he took another step closer. "I just, sometimes I get overwhelmed, and it’s not your fault, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong."

You blinked, trying to hold back the tears, feeling embarrassed. "I didn’t mean to talk too much. I... I just got excited." Your voice came out quieter, a bit shaky, and the more you tried to explain, the harder it was to keep the tears in.

Chris cursed under his breath, guilt washing over him. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you like that." His tone softened, and he gently reached out, his fingers brushing your arm in a quiet apology. "It’s not you. It’s me. I’ve just been holding all this stuff in today, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you."

You shook your head, trying to compose yourself. "No, no, it’s okay. I didn’t realise I was rambling so much. I’m sorry."

Chris’s expression softened even more, and he carefully reached up to brush a tear from your cheek. His touch tender, and he pulled you into a loose hug. "I don’t want to make you feel bad. You’re not annoying, okay? I was just... not in the right headspace, and I shouldn’t have said that. Like that, either."

You looked up at him, the tension easing a bit, but you still felt a little self-conscious. "I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. I just... I guess the caffeine did its thing."

Chris raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I think you plus coffee is not a good combination," he teased lightly, trying to lighten the mood.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, the tension between you both starting to fade. "Maybe," you said with a playful shrug. "I wasn’t really thinking when I grabbed it. I don’t usually drink it so late."

Chris’s smile widened. "Yeah, no kidding. You’ve got like a sugar high. Might need to take you for a walk to wear you out."

You rolled your eyes, but your smile was genuine now. "Hey, I’m not that bad. You were the one getting all cranky."

Chris laughed, shaking his head. "Fair enough. Next time, I’ll just steal your coffee before you get the chance."

Chris stepped a little closer, his hand still gently resting on your arm. "I’m really sorry, though. I shouldn’t have gotten frustrated. It wasn’t about you."

"It’s okay," you replied, the earlier awkwardness now replaced with something more comfortable. 

With a last soft smile, Chris nodded. "Alright. All good?"

"All good," you said.

creds to rose for the divider! @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: now i want coffee lol. fun fact i am indeed not allowed to drink it.

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart @cowboylikenat @recordeeznuts @camzeecorner @sturniolo101 @courta13 @sweetshuga

cya very sooooon!

[kumkaniudaku]

The Lady in Pink

Summary: Terry realizes his feelings run deeper than he though.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC (Patrice Ellis)

Word Count: 2,006

Warnings: None

Take a seat in pairs. Put away your books and notes. Prepare for a game of Pop Quiz. 

Instructions rattled off in Mr. Turner’s patented Kentucky drawl sounded more like an auctioneer’s ramblings than anything remotely coherent. Still, Terry settled into a stool behind the high black countertops in the back of their 5th period forensic’s lab. 

If Terry were honest, he hadn’t cracked open his textbook in days despite a looming chapter test at the end of the week. He’d get to it eventually. Between trying to impress scouts every Friday, another year of book club, and college prep, finding the time to study fingerprinting was low on the priority list. If not for Patrice, he’d be hovering around a measly D+ instead of his modest B-. She kept him steady, especially in impromptu group quizzes. 

Sliding into the seat beside Terry, Patrice pushed a perfectly curled tendril behind her ear and adjusted her glasses, unaware of the chain reaction she’d set off. Ear perked like a dog hearing its name roll from the lips of its owner. Eyes scanned her from head to toe, taking in every detail from her gold hoop earrings, to her pink strawberry printed cardigan and skin tight jeans. Terry watched her in a haze of teenaged longing and romantic feelings starting to change his brain chemistry in ways he hadn’t prepared for. The more time they spent rubbing shoulders during weekend hang outs and talking about the future, the more some unidentifiable emotion blossomed in his heart. 

His mother said he liked Patrice a few weeks back. “Close,” he thought to himself though he vehemently denied it to maintain his privacy. Whatever this new thing was extended far past surface level ‘like’. He ‘liked’ Theresa Allen sophomore year. She was a cool girl, but she didn’t make him happy the way a Saturday at the mall with Patrice made him happy. 

He ‘liked’ golfing with his dad on occasion. Though the sport was too slow for his taste, smelling fresh cut grass in the breeze and drinking bland sweet tea along side the man he looked up to most was always fun. 

He ‘liked’ a slice of apple pie sometimes. It wasn’t his favorite, but he could go for a piece if the mood hit him. 

Liking Patrice was long gone. This new thing, complete with uncontrollable thoughts and a newfound desire to know how her lip gloss tasted on his lips, was something else entirely.

“I like your sweater,” he complimented before she could greet him. “It’s nice. Where’d you get it?” 

Patrice giggled. “Thanks, TJ. My auntie made it for me. She’ll be your biggest fan when I tell her what you said.” Her attention flittering to chatter on the other side of the room gave Terry another opportunity fox his daily fix of silent admiration. Yeah, this wasn’t like. This something all consuming and entirely overwhelming. 

When she’d had her fill of observing her surrounding, Patrice looked back at Terry to speak.

“You ever get to chapter five,” she asked, looking over at her best friend. Ogling turned into a black stare and a twinge of guilt forcing him to look away from her expectant gaze. She kissed her teeth. “TJ…” 

“I know, I know,” Terry groaned. “I’ll be caught up when we study Wednesday, I promise. You want me to bring your favorite?” White chocolate covered pretzels always did the trick. Minor disagreements, his own absentmindness, and everything in between could be cured with her snack of choice. He watched her break into a slow smile and nod. “Yeah, I thought so. You got it. Hand to God.”

“You better. Especially after I carry us through this quiz.” 

“Oh you mean like how I carried us through the calc assignment last week?” A friendly nudge to Terry’s shoulder from Patrice pushed them both over the edge into a pit of giggles. 

Like two parts of a whole, Terry and Patrice made up the slack where the other lacked. Number crunching and complex math theory was like child’s play to Terry. He enjoyed the grueling process of combining letters and numbers to come to a finite conclusion. As he put it one evening over the phone, math came with logical conclusions. Even if you had ten ways to get to it, there was only one right answer. Patrice let him drone on and on most nights until he provided the solution for her to work her way out of a maze of erased possibilities into whatever would get her the coveted check mark and passing grade she was chasing. 

Patrice took over the words and menial task of remembering facts. If Terry needed to know a summary of To Kill A Mockingbird’s core themes or what exactly John Steinbeck was trying to get across in Of Mice and Men, he knew he could ask one question to send Patrice off into a winding tangent. Her ability to simplify colorful language was one of his favorite things. His second, was watching her adjust the satin ribbon in her ponytail before one of Mr. Turner’s famous pop quizzes. 

As she gave the pink bow a firm tug, Mr. Turner passed around buzzers for each group. “The rules are simple folks. One spokesperson for the group. You get five seconds to answer after buzzing in. No answer loses points. First group to 25 gets their lowest grade bumped up by 15 points. Any questions pupils?” 

“Can Patrice and Terry split up this time? I really need these points.” 

Mr. Turner shook his head as his finger wagged in the air. “No easy wins in this class! Earn it!” 

Low chuckles rumbled throughout the classroom at the tandem’s expense, earning a quiet eye roll from Patrice. Three school years in and she still hadn’t made much progress with some classmates through no fault of her own. 

Terry shot daggers across the room to the culprit before leaning over to offer comfort. “Forget her. She could get as many points as she wants and still wouldn’t pass.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Patrice shrugged. “I don’t lose. Only answer if you’re sure.” 

A smile crept across Terry’s face while he watched Patrice settle into her seat, cracking her knuckles before delicate fingers settled on the big red button between them. Competitive Patrice was one of his favorite version of his best friend. Typically, she didn’t involve herself with the taunting, name calling, and brute force of competition. She thought football and boxing were barbaric despite Terry convincing her to spend more time with his two hobbies. Physical battles were never her thing. But mental warefare? She loved demoralizing her opponents with with wit, finding great pleasure in brain games regardless of reward. Diamond Presscott had unfortunately put herself into Patrice’s sniping scope. Doomed. The girl was doomed. 

Question one. Mr. Turner shuffled through notecards and settled on the first opportunity for five points. “What is the purpose of cranial features?” 

“They allow the skull to grow!” Their shared buzzer could barely light the blinker on their station before Patrice was off to the races with an answer. 

“Correct! Way to be quick.” 

Terry offered his knuckles for Patrice to pound, receiving a light push away so she could focus. “When we win,” she muttered without looking in his direction. 

“My bad, champ. Go ahead.” He chuckled.

Back and forth she and Mr. Turner went as if they were the only two people in existence. Terry observed in awe, mouth slightly ajar at the beauty sitting beside him. 

“The size of a shotgun is described by?” 

“Gauge.” 

“Handwriting’s individuality is classified as?” 

“Class evidence.”

“What are the three types of forgery?” 

“Blind, simulated, and traced!” 

Each question met with a correct answer and beaming smile from Mr. Turner earned assorted groans from students well aware that the points they needed were firmly snatched from their grasps before they truly had a chance. 

Patrice didn’t care. Call it an unfair advantage or being a teacher’s pet – it mattered not to a young girl intent on reaching the highest academic heights possible. She’d do it all again the next day and the one after for the thrill of seeing smug smiles turned into tight frown. 

Terry was more than happy to be on the other side. Being in her orbit was gift from God himself and, as he found himself fully engrossed in every soft bounce of her ponytail and glint of light reflecting off shiny, full lips, he couldn’t help but to send a quick thank you to the man upstairs. 

He liked Patrice when he met her. Every moment spent side by side in book club meetings and study hall sessions left him giddy once he returned home. He liked her smile and her sense of humor. He like the deep dimple in her right cheek. He liked how she wore her hair, the vanilla body mist she wore, how she tapped her pencil when she was thinking, and her way of infusing smart sarcasm in every conversation. 

He  liked her yesterday and two weeks before. He liked her when he woke up that morning and took extra time moisturizing his hair and patting careful sprays of his father’s expensive cologne on his neck. He liked her when they passed each other in the hallway and made silly faces en route to separate classes for first block. He even liked her when he sat down in Mr. Turner’s 5th period forensics class, waiting for her to join his side. 

So what was this new phenoment? 

What was this tightening in his lungs and quickening of his heart? Why did he feel so safe and seen without her ever acknowledging his presence in her pursuit of total domination? Was the absence of everyone but her a sign of something deeper or the result of sitting too close to the TV like his mother had warned about all those years? 

As big feelings overtook a starry-eyed young man discovering new information during his favorite science course to date, Patrice quietly pumped her fist and looked to him with a wide smile that rivaled the sun. “Light work,” she boasted while looking for his approval. “Isn’t that what you say during your sports ball thing or did I get it wrong?” 

“That was right,” he chuckled as nonchalantly as he could before raising his hand for a high five. “Good job, Treece. I really like being on your team.” 

Screwing her face, Patrice placed the back of her hand on his cheek. “Terry being nice before lunch? You must be sick.” Her knuckles searched for heat on his face, softly lulling his eyes closed for a moment to revel in her attention. “You ain’t warm. Maybe you finally realizing who’s really in charge over here.” 

Her snickering sounded like a symphony in the ears of a young boy slowly wading into grown man feelings. Terry smiled back at Patrice, totally ignoring lab instructions rattled off and children shuffled pages and prepared for 40 minutes of instruction. 

Dark pupils dilated inside green irises. The morning’s previous problems floated away into the ether to make way for unexplained happiness. Stress slid from newly broad shoulders, down his back, and out of the door to know him no longer. His cheeks flushed while the tips of his ears turned a new shade of red. Sweaty palms nearly left handprints on his jeans. Bright red strawberries knitted onto a pretty pink sweater filled gave way to perfectly smooth brown skin as Terry examined Patrice from head to toe once more. His heartbeat quickened to the beat of a thousand flutters in his belly at the sight of her small frown while she sat deep in thought. A beauty like no other.

This wasn’t like, or infatuation, or some thing called lust that his grandma often blamed for the sins of man. Something stronger had taken up residence in his heart. 

For the first time in his young life, he could call love by its name. Patrice.

—————-

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[mynameismckenziemae]

I Love You Two

Part 11

(previous part here, next part here)

Bradley Bradshaw x OFC x Jake Seresin.

Summary: You start your weekend getaway off with a bang.

Warnings: Adults (18+) only! MDNI! Exhibitionism, masturbation (f), teasing, humiliation, objectification, spanking, ass play, toy use.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

The holidays come and go and due to the somewhat new, still under wraps status of your relationship, you don’t get to spend them with both Bradley and Jake. Paired with yours and their busy schedules, you barely get any time with the two of them together over the next few months.

“You think we should do something for Valentine’s Day?” You ask Bradley over lunch in your office as you unwrap the chocolate heart Jake had placed on your desk this morning. Who again, was ordered to work through his break.

“I know, I know. It’s just a stupid Hallmark holiday,” you repeat the words he’s always said about the holiday and laugh at the look he gives you, “but I think Jake would like it.”

While he hasn’t actually said it, there have been signs that the holiday is at least somewhat important to him. For example, the chocolates he’s been leaving for you and Bradley.

Bradley gives an exasperated sigh as he unwraps a chocolate of his own, but agrees, “Fine.”

“Yes!” You grin, pulling out your phone and sliding it across your desk, “I found this little place two hours from here. It’s got a private hot tub and there’s…”

Bradley just shakes his head as you ramble on, but can’t hide the quirk of his mustache. “Whatever works. Book it and I’ll make sure we both are off.”

“Will do,” you smile, rising when he does and risking a quick kiss, “I can’t fucking wait, Roo.”

His eyes heat at the husky turn of your voice as if he can see all the dirty ideas that are churning around your mind.

“I suddenly can’t either,” he murmurs, leaning back in to brush his lips over yours.

But the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway outside your office has him pulling back.

“See ya tonight,” you sigh, sitting back in your chair, disappointed. “Tell Jake I say hi.”

“Will do,” he replies as he walks out the door.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

“Can I at least pick the music since I was banished to sit in the back?” You tease as Jake pulls his truck onto the highway.

Bradley was planning on being a gentleman and letting you ride shotgun, but no way were you going to let his long legs be cramped in the backseat for over 2 hours. So when he ran back inside his apartment to grab his forgotten wallet, you got in the backseat and locked the doors.

Jake laughs. “You are such a pain in the ass.”

“I’m going to give her a pain in the ass later,” Bradley mutters under his breath, handing you Jake’s phone before he slips his fingers through Jake’s on the center console.

“Promises, promises,” you whisper, kissing his cheek before sitting back to scroll Jake’s Spotify.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

An hour or so later, you wake to the truck braking quickly. The steady flow of traffic and your boy's soft murmurs had lulled you to sleep.

“What’s going on?” You yawn, leaning forward to see.

“I think something flew off a trailer,” Jake replies as the vehicle rolls to a stop.

“Yeah,” Bradley confirms, able to see around the side of the semi in front of the truck, “looks like we’ll be here for a bit.”

“Now what?” You sigh, never one to be patient.

“We could play I Spy?” Bradley offers, “Or the license plate game?”

“Sure. There’s California, California, California, and…” you reply dryly, turning to look at the car behind you, “shocker. Another California.”

Jake snorts while Bradley shakes his head.

“Patience has never been a strong suit of hers,” Bradley tells Jake, bringing their still joined hands to place an absent-minded kiss on the back of Jake’s.

“Patience has never been a strong suit of hers,” you mock his words as you sit back with a huff.

15 long minutes pass. Bradley pulls out his phone and Jake hums along to the song playing, thrumming his fingers on the wheel.

It’s been too long since Bradley took you apart like when he took you over his knee and you’re craving to relinquish all control.

He’ll gladly do it if you so ask.

But what’s the fun in that?

“What are you doing back there?” Jake asks when he hears the sounds of you squirming.

You answer with a wink when you catch his eye in the rearview while sliding your panties down your thighs.

Bradley pauses his scrolling when the lace thong lands on the center console where their hands had earlier been joined.

“Liv,” Bradley warns.

“What?” You snap as your fingers trail back up your inner thigh, “I’m bored.”

“We’ll be there in,” Jake checks his phone, “a little over an hour.”

“You can wait an hour,” Bradley states like it’s final.

Your reply is a soft sigh as your fingers slide through your arousal, wetting the tips to ease the circles over your clit.

“Olivia,” Bradley puts his phone down and Jake straightens instinctively at the tone. “You can wait an hour.”

“I,” the shudder running down your spine makes you pause, “don’t want to wait.”

A muscle twitches in Bradley’s jaw when he clenches it.

Jake flushes as he shifts in his seat, turned on by the tension filling the cab.

You kick off your sandals before leaning back, placing a foot on each of their seats.

“Fuck,” you breathe as you dip your fingers inside, “can you hear how wet I am?”

Bradley turns to look at you but you turn his face back to the front with your painted toes, “Ah-ah,” you tsk, “eyes front, Roo.”

He curses under his breath, cheeks turning ruddy but he doesn’t try to look back again. You clench around your fingers, knowing he’s letting you continue…and knowing he’s going to make you pay for it too.

“I can hear it,” Jake murmurs, lust-blown eyes meeting yours in the mirror, “wish I could taste it.”

“Why can’t you?” You ask, slipping your fingers from inside and leaning forward, “here.”

He opens his mouth eagerly, sucking your middle and index fingers into his mouth with a soft groan.

“Good boy,” you murmur. His long eyelashes flutter when you slowly pump them in and out.

A strangled sound escapes Bradley but he covers it up by clearing his throat, looking out the window when you glance his way.

“So good,” you whisper against the shell of his ear before sitting back and resuming where you left off, thoroughly enjoying the way goosebumps rise from your words.

As the traffic continues to crawl, you draw it out, teasing yourself and therefore teasing them.

Jake can’t stop fidgeting and Bradley’s curls are a mess from his hands running through.

“I’m so fucking hard,” Jake admits when you allow yourself to get close, “fuck, Liv. You’re so hot.”

“Why don’t you suck him off, Roo?” You goad him, “Hmm? I know you want to.”

Jake’s head falls back against the rest with a groan and Bradley’s knuckles turn white on his bouncing knee.

“I-he can’t”, Jake whines as the truck creeps ahead, “we’re coming up on a semi here.”

The tinted windows and your dress were keeping you covered from unwanted attention thankfully. But they weren’t that lucky in the front seat.

“I’ll suck you off,” you continue, the lewd, wet sounds of your fingers fucking your pussy all you can hear, “as soon as we get there? Please, Jake? Can I?”

“I-ye-it’s up to Roo,” Jake replies, glancing at the road once more before turning Bradley towards him, meeting in a heated, hungry kiss.

Bradley’s hand comes up to find the hinge of Jake’s jaw as he finds Bradley’s curls, mussing them further. There’s teeth, tongue and so much tension it has you toeing the edge.

Your back arches as the pleasure crests and your soft cry doesn’t drown out the sound of the car horn from behind, making them jump apart as if they were burned.

Jake hits the gas with a frustrated sigh and Bradley’s eyes meet yours before he turns around. He doesn’t have to say a word; you already know.

You’re in so much trouble.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

“Thought we weren’t doing gifts,” Jake says from behind you.

“Couldn’t resist,” Bradley replies as Jake rips the paper, “besides, it’s just as much for me as it is for you two.”

The urge to turn around and look is killing you, but you’re already in hot water.

“What are you doing?” You asked when Bradley tugged your dress down as soon as Jake closed the door to your room.

“No bra,” Bradley ignored your question, scoffing when your bare breasts were revealed, “why am I not surprised?”

“I-“ you hissed when he pinched a hardened nipple but it turned to a sigh when Jake sucked the other into his mouth.

It only lasted a moment before Bradley pulled him off by his hair and into another heated kiss.

“Not yet,” Bradley murmured, nipping Jake’s lower lip after breaking the kiss, “she’s being punished, remember?”

“Yeah,” Jake breathed, eyes flicking to Roo’s lips, obviously not listening to a word he said, “Okay.”

You almost laughed but Bradley’s attention was back on you. He reached for your arm before you could pull away and yanked you to the corner of the room.

“What-“

You jumped as your question was cut off by the sound of his hand meeting your ass, quickly followed by the burn.

“If you’re going to act like a naughty little girl,” Bradley tugs your arms behind you, crossing them at the elbows, “then I’m going to treat you like one. You’re going to stay right here in this corner until I’m ready for you to come out.”

The burn of humiliation hasn’t waned and your arousal has only intensified since he left you in the corner nearly a half hour ago.

You positively ache, wetness is now coating your inner thighs as you shift your weight from foot to foot, growing antsier by the second.

Jake’s shuddery inhale when the contents of the gift are revealed only makes it worse.

“The pink one is Liv’s,” Bradley says, the smile in his voice evident.

Your eyes narrow but you don’t say a word. Bradley knows you fucking hate the color pink.

“Can we…” Jake trails off, “now?”

“Yeah,” Bradley answers a little smugly, making goosebumps rise along your body. “Liv?”

“Yes sir?” Your voice sounds so loud as it echoes against the walls inches from your face.

“Come here.”

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

“I’m sor-“ your third-or is it fourth? attempt at an apology gets cut off by another harsh slap to your ass.

You give up with a strangled sound, burying your face in the comforter and letting the tears welling in your eyes finally fall. You refuse to let him see you cry.

Your gaze had been on the floor in faux remorse when you'd approached him, but Bradley saw right through your act. He wasted no time bending you over the bed and showing how sorry you weren’t, taking your breath away with quick, harsh spanks. Jake watched with rapt attention, occasionally running a soothing hand down your back and giving you a swat of his own.

Arousal is coating your trembling thighs when Bradley pauses to knead to knead your reddened flesh. “Have you had enough?”

“Why?” You reply shakily, looking over your shoulder with watery eyes, “Is your hand tired?”

Bradley quirks a brow and Jake snorts as he returns from the bathroom, holding a bottle of lube in one hand and something pink in the other. He left a few minutes earlier after a hushed conversation with Roo.

“I was going to let you sit on Jake’s face while I put this in,” Bradley holds up the pink butt plug that Jake must’ve just washed, “but only good girls get their pussy eaten.”

You fight the urge to gulp. While it’s not as big as Bradley or Jake, it’s bigger than a finger.

“I hate pink,” is what you say instead, trying not to wince at how bratty you sound.

“I know,” Bradley grins, opening the lube.

You roll your eyes before resting your head on your crossed arms, refusing to show that you’re a little nervous.

The cold lube hitting your heated skin makes you jolt.

“Jake’s going to get you ready for the plug. Yeah,” Bradley observes as Jake spreads it over his fingers before sliding between your cheeks, “just like that, baby. Get her hole nice and slick.”

“Oh God,” you whimper.

“This okay?” Jake asks, slowly circling your rim as Bradley brushes the hair off your forehead.

“Yeah,” you reply truthfully, knowing they’ll stop at your slightest hesitation, “it’s okay.”

“You’ll tell us if it’s not?” Bradley asks, tilting your chin to look at him.

“I will-oh,” your eyes flutter as Jake gently starts to press a fingertip in. It’s different with no stimulation to your pussy or clit like the few times Bradley’s fingered you in the middle of sex.

“That’s good,” Bradley stands behind him, kissing his neck as his finger slowly pumps in and out. “She’s ready for another.”

You tense up instinctively when he presses a second finger to your hole and Jake hesitates.

“It’s okay,” Bradley says, trailing his fingers down Jake’s arm before dipping down to slide through the wetness on your thighs before ghosting over your clit. A whine escapes as you tighten for only a moment before relaxing, and letting Jake’s fingers in. “See?”

“Fuck,” Jake breathes, letting you get used to the intrusion before gently pumping them in and out.

“Yeah,” Bradley chuckles, nudging your clit every so often to keep you on edge. “How’s it feel?”

“Hot,” Jake murmurs, “tight, just as perfect as her pussy.”

“Mmm,” Bradley agrees, watching as you start pushing back to meet his fingers. “She’s ready for the plug.”

A shiver wracks your body as Jake pulls his fingers from you and he places a kiss on your back in apology before heading to the bathroom to wash his hands. Your breath quickens at the sound of the lube opening again.

“Spread her open for me,” Bradley instructs when Jake returns. His warm, damp hands squeeze your hip reassuringly before stands beside Bradley and he does as he’s told.

Mortification races through you at the gesture; added to the fact that they’re both dressed while you’re naked and so exposed mixed with your pulsing arousal is a heady combination.

“Fuck,” you breathe at the first touch of cool, hard silicone.

“Now touch her clit,” Bradley says, letting you get used to the feel, “but don’t let her cum.”

“Yes sir,” Jake murmurs, sounding farther gone than you as he sneaks his hand between your thighs to give the same sweet, but fleeting traces as Roo.

“That’s it,” Bradley coos, softly pressing the toy in as you whimper from Jake’s touch, “good, Jake. Good.”

Jake’s head falls back at the praise.

The praise you should be getting.

A complaint gets lodged in your throat when Bradley pulls back before pushing it in again; further this time.

“Watch, sweetheart,” Bradley says, “watch her take the widest part.”

Your toes curl as your hole stretches around it and you let go of the breath you didn’t realize you were holding once it’s in.

“You good?” Bradley whispers, leaning forward to press kisses down the knobs of your spine.

All you can do is nod, feeling like an open, exposed nerve.

He smiles against your back and straightens.

“Can’t wait to play with this while I fuck you,” Bradley toys with it, making you gasp. Jake’s fingers are still teasing your clit while your poor, neglected cunt clenches around nothing. “Here Jake, give me your hand.”

Bradley brings Jake’s hand to the plug, guiding it in and out. Your trembling legs nearly give out when he pauses on the widest part, “See how her greedy hole tries to pull it back in?”

“Yeah,” is all he can manage as he pushes it in one last time before finding Roo’s lips for a hot, tension-fueled kiss.

As you muster the strength to lift off from the bed, more than ready to be fucked, they pull apart, breathing hard.

“Ready for your turn?” Bradley asks him, pulling a plug matching yours from his back pocket, only this one is in blue.

.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.•*•.•.

A/N: I’m so sorry for the delay since the last update. Life is crazy. I hope this is the end of my hiatus, but no guarantees. I really hope you like it. Also, just a little disclaimer that I finished this and edited it while exhausted so I hope it’s not shitty. Also 👇🏻

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I LOVE hearing what you think in the comments/reblogs! Seriously, feedback helps me more than anything.

Tagging:

@writtingrose

@blindedbythelightt

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@dizzybee03

@shanimallina87

@lexixstewart

@hookslove1592

@jessicab1991

@carolina-on-my-mind03

@racerchix21

@that-one-fangirl69

@mrsbradshaw-seresin01

@sydneejean

@xoxabs88xox

@midnightmagpiemama

@its-the-pilot

@kmc1989

@psuedochakra

@fandomology101

@kneelforloki

@djs8891

@mavrellover91

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@seitmai

@emerald-jade1

[flowery-mess]

nowhere to go

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! / physical violence / punching / knife threat / blood, bruises and other injuries / harassment / I think that's it, let me know if there's anything else

Words: 3,1k

Author's note: grab your tissues everyone. So far the hardest one I wrote for frat Noah❤️‍🩹

frat boy Noah masterlist

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Thanks for coming man, next time we should start earlier.” Matt said to Noah as he watched him put his shoes and jacket on.

“Yeah, I hate doing projects at the last minute.” him and Matt had a project for a finance class together, they wanted to work on it on the weekend, but Matt’s plans had changed and he needed to finish it on Friday night before he left to see his parents.

“Sorry again man, will never happen again.” Matt apologized one more time, him and Noah did their weird handshake and then Noah left.

It was Friday night, but most of the students were back home at their parents, so there was no party that night.

Noah crossed the main area of the college campus to finally get in his car, do some grocery shopping and go home. He was more than ready to eat some frozen pizza, take a shower and then go to bed.

Due to the spring break the parking lot was weirdly empty, aside from Noah’s black car there were just a few more. He didn’t pay any attention to those other cars, didn’t feel like he needed to.

When his body slid behind the steering wheel, he let out a deep groan. His back hurt from sitting on Matt’s bed the whole day and his brain was tired from all the thinking he had to do to finish the project. He let his head rest for a while, closing his eyes, but he knew if he let himself doze off he’s going to wake in the morning and that was painful to imagine.

He started the engine and made his way to the closest grocery store that wasn’t closed yet. The streets were mostly empty, probably due to the area usually being full of students. It was 10PM already, so he had to drive a bit far for his liking.

His radio was on, but he didn’t really pay any attention to the songs, he was focused on the road.

He checked his rear mirror before he changed lines and noticed only one red car behind him. His attention was back on the road, cursing himself for not using GPS, because he didn’t recognise this part of town.

He turned left, then right and was expecting the shop to already be in sight, but he could swear he got lost and was again on the same main street, changing lines again. Before he did he checked his rear mirror again, noticing the same red car still behind him. He didn’t think much of it, maybe they got lost too.

Taking a few more turns he finally saw the lights “open 24/7”, only one traffic light between him and his target. When he stopped and the red light he looked back in the mirror, nothing else to look at with the empty streets. He noticed two men sitting in the red car, talking and waiting for the light to turn green just like him. When it did, Noah started driving again, not looking back in the mirror or at the red car anymore.

He took the closest parking spot to the shop, took his wallet and left the car. The street was silent, you could only hear cars from a far.

There were two homeless men in front of the shop who didn’t waste any time asking Noah for money. He gave them some change he had in his back pockets and thought of buying them some beer for a minute.

“Hello sir.” the older cashier welcomed Noah with a smile on her face, he did the same and grabbed a cart to start his short shopping list.

Frozen pizza, eggs, bread and milk. Things for dinner and breakfast before he can go to his regular shop to do bigger weekly shopping.

The nice lady packed him the small purchase in a bag, making small talk while doing so. She looked like the type of a woman who lives alone and has a part time job to socialize and talk with people. Noah didn't mind, because he knew how spending time alone can be, so he nodded along and occasionally gave her some answer.

He wished her a safe shift and made his way back to his car. When he reached for his keys he noticed two people next to his black Range Rover. He stopped walking and scanned the parking lot. He noticed the red car still there, but left empty with no passengers.

He really wanted to go home, so he decided to just go and not think twice about it.

“Hey, can I help you?” he asked the two men he saw in his mirror earlier at the red light.

One of them had a cigarette in his hand, the smell hit Noah’s nose immediately. The other one looked at Noah and his face turned into a satisfied smirk.

“Actually yes. You’re Noah right?” the man made a step towards Noah who started feeling uneasy in their company. How the fuck did he knew his name?

“Who are you?” Noah tried to stay calm, maybe it was a misunderstanding.

“Your daddy says you owe us some money.” and then it hit him. I’ll tell them to go after you. His father’s words replayed in his head and he didn’t know what to do.

“He’s not my father, whatever he told you is a lie. I don’t know what he did or why he owes the money, fuck I don’t even know how much money it is! He’s a stranger to me.”

“That’s not what he told us. He owes us money and he told us you’ll pay. We don’t care about your sad story, we want the money and we don’t care how we’ll get it.”

“How much?”

“800 dollars.” Fuck, Noah thought. He expected more, but it was still a lot of money.

“Yeah I don’t have that, so go ask him again.” Noah thought he made it clear, but before he could unlock his car and leave, fist landed on his face. His bag of groceries fell on the ground and his hand immediately went to touch his nose. He tasted blood in his mouth.

“Listen you son of a bitch, you either give us some money or it will not end well for you.” the man pushed him on the side of his own car and his disgusting hands made it around Noah’s throat. He didn’t choke him, but added a fair amount of pressure to make breathing harder for Noah.

“I don’t have the money.” Noah whispered as loud as he could. Another punch followed, this time to his abdomen. Two against one, that couldn’t end well for him. One of them continued holding Noah by his neck while the other was ready to land another fist.

“He said you’ll pay.” of course he said that, father of the year.

Before Noah could argue with him, he felt those hands move from his neck to his shoulders, pulling him down and then knee of the stranger in his face. He gasped for air and saw blood dripping on the concrete under him. He was fucked. Who’s going to help him? That sweet lady from the shop or those two homeless guys? Sure not.

He stood back up, ready to face another hit to wherever they felt good next. He didn’t fight back, that was pointless.

Another punch, this time next to his eye, slitting his eyebrow. He hissed in pain, not sure he could take any more before colapsing on the ground under his feet.

Blood started dripping down his face, blurring his vision in his left eye. He was tired. Tired from all this beating, tired from his father’s actions.

“Do you need more or will you give us the money?” that man yelled in Noah’s face.

He understood him in a way. That man helped his father out in some way, either with drugs, alcohol or actual money and just wanted it back. The thing is, people like his father will never give the money back and that’s something people like those two strangers should know.

Noah’s mind was thinking of how he could escape this situation, but before he could think of something, he heard the sound of opening a pocket knife. The other man put the knife to Noah’s jaw and started running the blade across his cheek.

“I’ll give you everything I have on me, okay?” Noah blurted out in a rush, scared of where this would go if he let them continue.

“Now that’s something I like to hear.” the stranger said happily.

Noah took out his wallet and took out all of his cash and handed it to them. He didn’t know how much it was, but prayed to God that it was enough for him to get rid of them.

“That’s only 200 dollars.” they told him after they counted the money.

“I don’t have any more.”

He saw them look at each other, like they were silently communicating with their minds.

“Listen, we know how stuff like this works and we also know your dad is a piece of shit. We’ll take this and take care of the rest in our way. With your father, not you. But tell your old man this is his warning and he better have the money next time we see him, or he can say his goodbye to you.” Noah didn’t know how to answer that so he just kept staring at them, waiting for their next move.

When they scanned his body, obviously satisfied with the damage they'd done, they turned around, got in their car and left the parking lot.

Noah couldn’t move, he was leaning against his car and trying to stabilize his breathing.

“Are you alright?” he heard another voice and when he turned his head he saw one of the homeless men standing close to his car. He didn’t have the energy to answer, he just opened his car, started the engine and took off.

He didn’t drive in the direction of his apartment, he went back to the campus. His drive was messy and he was glad there were no other cars, because he was sure his driving would’ve caused an accident.

He sat in the parking lot for a good hour, thinking of what to do. His head was hurting and the blood finally stopped running down his face a few minutes ago. It was tears running down his cheeks now, mixing with the dried blood he could taste in his mouth.

He gave up punching the steering wheel or tugging at his hair, the physical pain couldn’t stop the hurt he felt in his heart.

Instead the car was filled with sobs and cries from a boy who just wanted peace in his life. He was better off alone, he just wanted his devil of a father out of his life.

His body worked on autopilot when he got out of his car and started walking in the direction of your dorm. He was glad no one could see him, beaten up with blood all over him. He couldn’t look in the mirror so he took the stairs instead of an elevator.

When he reached your floor he saw the big old clock on the wall and saw it was just a bit after midnight. You’re probably asleep, he should go home, he thought. He actually ran down the stairs just to turn around on the ground floor and run up again. He couldn’t be alone.

—

“Yes mom, I’ll come visit you next month, I’m just busy with school work so I wanted to stay here.” you were on the phone with your mom who just finished her glass of wine and decided it was “I miss my daughter hours.” and called you. You were two hours ahead of her, so it wasn’t unusual for her to call you this late.

“I just saw Jake come home today and felt sad that you decided to stay.” Jake was your neighbour who grew up across the road.

“I know mom, but I’ll come soon. Okay?” you didn’t hear her answer, because there was a loud knock on your door. You checked the time on your phone and furrowed your brows, who could be knocking at your door at midnight. “Wait mom.” you told her and walked to open your door.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight when you opened your door. There was Noah, covered in blood with red eyes, looking like he would collapse every second.

“I have to go mom, I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye.” you hung up on her before she could say bye, but you didn’t care.

“Noah what the fuck?” you continued to stare at him, not sure what to do. “What the hell happened?” you whispered.

“I, I-” he couldn’t finish what he wanted to say, his words got lost between his sobs and quick breathing.

“Come inside.” you pulled him in by his hand and he immediately went to wrap his arms around you, and you let him.

You continued standing there with crying Noah in your arms. You gave him all the time he needed to calm down. When you felt his breath slow down a little, you pulled away from him to look at the mess his face was.

“Oh God Noah, who did this to you?” looking at him was painful. When he didn’t answer you led him in your bathroom and sat him on the closed toilet.

“I’m gonna clean you up, okay? You don’t have to say anything until you want to, yeah?” you cupped his face in your hands to make sure he heard you. He gave you only a small nod.

You took a small towel and dipped it into warm water, then took Noah’s face in one of your hands and held the towel in the other one. You slowly and gently wiped all the dried blood from his face. Then you sprayed the disinfection on white cotton pads and said “This is gonna sting.” As you dabbed the pad over the cuts on Noah’s eyebrow and then around his bloody nose, you couldn’t miss the tears forming in his eyes again, then slowly cascading down his cheeks. You tried to wipe them all with your fingers, but there were too many of them.

You put a small butterfly plaster on his eyebrow, but that was all you could do. The rest of his face started to bruise and swell already, you noted to get him something frozen later when you’re done.

“All done.” you grabbed his chin and made him look up at you and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” you asked, not sure if you wanted to know the answer.

Instead of answering you, Noah took off his t-shirt and you saw a red bruise on his abdomen. You had to calm yourself down so you wouldn’t swear again.

There wasn’t much you could do with that one, so you at least sprayed some disinfection on it.

“Do you want to take a shower?” you then asked Noah who still hasn’t said a word. He was communicating only in nods, but you didn’t mind.

“Here’s a towel, you can leave your clothes here, I’ll wash it for you. Call me if you need anything else, I’ll wait in my room.” you wanted to give him space and privacy, but when you turned to walk out of the small bathroom of yours, he reached for your hand and stopped you.

“Stay.” he finally spoke, it was more of a question, a plea.

You got in the shower with him, taking care of him again. You used your shampoo on his bruised body, being careful with your touch to not hurt him any more. You wanted to wash all of his pain away, if only it was possible.

You let him hug you again, only to hear his silent cries again. You had to hold your own tears at this point. Who did this to him?

After the shower you sat Noah in your bed and gave him a pack of frozen peas to stop the swelling of his pretty face.

You sat next to him, not sure what to do now. “Do you wanna talk about it?” you asked him.

There was a silence before he took a breath and started talking.

“He actually sent someone to beat me up and get money from me.” he muttered under his breath, “Who does that to their own kid?” his breath got caught in his throat, before he let out another sob. You immediately knew what he was talking about. His father was always full of promises he never managed to keep, so after that accident you both didn’t take his words seriously. What a mistake.

You laid both of you down on your bed, not big enough for both of you, but you managed. You held him and gave him time to process what he wanted to tell you.

“They followed me from here after I left Matt’s place, then they waited for me in front of a fucking grocery store. He owes them 800 dollars and sent them to get it from me. They beat me up and then pulled out a knife, so I gave them all the cash I had with me.” at the mention of the knife you had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying what was on your mind. You were thankful he got to you in one piece.

“They told me he’s a piece of shit and that beating me up was a warning for him. Only if they knew he doesn’t give a fuck about what they did to me. They said they’ll finish it with him, so I hope I’ll never see their fucking faces again.”

“That’s not okay Noah, they can’t do that.”

“Don’t you think I fucking know that?” he sat up to look at you, despair in his eyes. “What do you want me to do? Call the cops? Call him?”

“I don’t know.” you admitted. You wanted to get him out of this situation, but didn’t have a clue on how to do it.

He laid back down and continued talking after a while. “I’m gonna change my number. I was thinking about moving too. He knows where I live, I’ll never get rid of him.”

“Yeah, we can think of something tomorrow.” those weren’t bad ideas, it could help to cut his father off completely. “I’m glad you came here, hate the idea of you being alone in this state.” you admitted and planted few more kisses to his forehead and in his hair.

He laid in your arms, occasionally letting out a hiss when your fingers slid too close to his bruised face.

You felt his body grow heavier and heavier with sleep taking over him. His cries finally calmed down and his breathing became even.

“Thank you.” he whispered in the crook of your neck.

“You don’t have to thank me.” you whispered back. You thought of all the nights when he held you, because you needed it.

You held him until he fell asleep, preparing yourself for round 2 in the morning when the pain of his injuries will become worse.

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This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

Taglist: @lacy1986 @concretejunglefm @super-btstrash-posts @amelia-acero @justcarrie @koskeepsake @chey-h @xmads-omensx @blade-dressed-in-red @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrscevans @blvckmvgicwoman @punkprincess1999 @fear-its-beauty @bloody-spades @n0n3xsisting @thenmaybehellaintsobadafterall @athenexe @tashka @badomensls

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[ilovedinodino]

I can see the ghost (preview)

pairing: haechan x ghost!reader

synopsis: Haechan lived an ordinary, boring life. Work, partying with friends on weekends, sleep - that was his usual routine. His friends constantly said that he would lose his mind if he didn't shake things up, but Haechan just brushed off their words. But one day, it seemed like he truly lost his mind. Because he started seeing things no one else could. Now, he spends every day with a ghost only he can see. The problem is, he's not sure if it's you who got attached to him -or if he's the one who doesn't want to let you go

genre: comedy, fluff, angst, haechan and you annoy each other..

an: tbh I don't know should i continue write it or not if this interesting but here is preview anyway🙇‍♀️

wc (preview): 695

Haechan was driving, humming along to his favorite song playing in the car. Nodding to the beat, he muttered with a satisfied smile:

«Yeah, this is definitely Michael Jackson’s best album.»

Reaching out to change the song, he returned his gaze to the road. And in that instant, his heart dropped — a small boy appeared right in front of the car out of nowhere.

«Shit!» Haechan gasped, slamming the horn.

Panic surged through him. He desperately hit the brakes, hoping he would stop in time. The car screeched to a halt… right where the boy had been standing.

But he wasn’t there anymore.

Haechan froze, gripping the wheel tightly, his eyes locked onto the empty road. A crowd had already gathered, whispers and worried voices filling the air. Turning his head, he saw the boy lying on the pavement. Three women were around him, and a young girl, in her twenties, was holding him securely.

She had saved him.

Haechan rushed out of the car, moving toward them.

“God, is the kid okay?!” his voice was laced with concern.

A middle-aged woman quickly nodded, pulling the child into a hug. That’s when he felt someone’s gaze burning into him. Turning, he met your stern expression.

“You should watch the road more carefully,” you stated firmly.

Haechan frowned, straightening up.

“The light was red! How was I supposed to see him if he ran out so suddenly?!” he shot back.

His voice was sharp, drawing attention. Before you could answer, the woman, who seemed to be the boy’s mother, quickly intervened.

“I’m so sorry… I wasn’t watching him. It’s my fault, please forgive us.”

Haechan shook his head.

“It’s fine. The most important thing is that he’s okay. I’m sorry too.”

“What an idiot,” you muttered under your breath.

Haechan heard it. He was about to respond when the boy suddenly piped up.

“Mom, my guardian angel saved me! I felt their hands!”

His mother laughed, stroking his hair.

“Yes, sweetie, God is watching over you. It’s a miracle.”

Haechan arched an eyebrow, trying to process what he had just heard. He looked at you again, but before he could say anything, one of the women from the crowd addressed him.

“Are you alright?”

More eyes turned toward him.

“Are you looking at my angel? I want to see them too!” the boy beamed excitedly.

He turned around, searching, while Haechan started questioning his own sanity. Slowly, he raised a hand and pointed at you.

“Sweetie, there’s no one there. Let’s go, we need to get you checked at the hospital,” the mother said as she and another woman had already pulled the boy away, quickly bowing in gratitude before disappearing.

Standing there for a moment, Haechan finally turned back to you.

“What the hell was that?..” he murmured.

You simply shrugged and began walking away.

Before he could think, he caught up and grabbed your shoulder.

“Wait. Are you hurt?”

You chuckled.

“I never get hurt.”

An another woman from the crowd approached, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you’re hallucinating because of shock?”

Haechan wanted to answer, but as he turned back—

You were already gone.

“There was a girl who saved the little boy. I wonder if she got hurt,” Haechan said, and the old woman frowned.

“A girl? There weren’t any girls. The boy’s mother already left with him.”

“No, no, auntie, the girl saved him! Didn’t you see her?”

Auntie shook her head and smiled.

“Let’s go, we need to take you to the doctor too. I think it’s just the shock. Of course, I would be terrified and have hallucinations too.” Auntie took his hand and tried to lead him, but Haechan pulled his hand back and shook his head.

“I’m fine, I promise, auntie! I’ll go back to the car, alright? Please be careful on the road, I will too! Goodbye!”

Haechan ran off quickly, leaving woman standing there in confusion.

“Oh my, poor boy, the effects of shock are really serious…”

Haechan sat back in the car, staring again at the road where everything had happened.

What the hell was that?

[ordinaryschmuck]

Full Family AU: The Final Part...For Now

The last two months have been exactly as Camila predicted: Complicated and exhausting.

She, Manny, and Eda have been working as hard as they can to delicately break the law. This involved a lot of document forging, rehearsing and re-rehearsing what they were going to say to the court officials, writing up and editing entire backstories involving who Vee was, and a lot of stress of working out this lie made for the foreseeable future.

Camila especially sent prayers of gratitude for Eda being there for most of it. It felt weird thanking God for giving a criminal to help break the law, but she was grateful for it nonetheless as her levelheadedness helped pulled Camila through a lot of her exhausting stress. Eda was certainly a professional, coming up with plans, backup plans, even backups for the backup plans necessary to pull this off. And all with a positive attitude in doing it.

"The chance to screw with another world's government would be a personal pleasure," she said with a wicked grin one day. Camila decided to let that comment slide for the time being as they got closer to their goal.

Fortunately, not all of it was stressful. In between the moments of planning and forging, the Nocedas did their part to make sure Vee was welcomed to the family, being there for a lot of huge moments. Vee's first time going to a restaurant with a family, her first Noceda Movie Night, her first time trying Camila's world famous brownies, and, of course, when all the craziness was over, her first day of school.

"Are you sure I'm ready?" Vee asked as they started pulling up to the school. "What if I mess up?"

"Don't worry, querida," Manny said from the driver's seat, giving Vee a hopeful look in the mirror. "Luz will be there to assure that you'll be fine."

"I'll keep my eyes peeled like a hawk!" Luz proclaimed as she used her fingers and thumb to keep her eyes open.

"Hawks don't do that," Vee said. "And their eyesight isn't that impressive. It's just three times sharper than a normal human's--"

"Camila's really got you hooked on those animal documentaries, huh?" Manny interrupted with a grin. All while earning a gentle slap from Camila.

"Excuse me for wanting to bond with my daughter," she chided him, not really having any bite to her words. And it felt so good to Camila to use the word daughter. At first, it was an adjustment to get used to, but Camila accepted that if she wanted Vee to be a part of their weird family, then they needed to treat her like one. Meaning Camila and Manny had to get used to calling Vee their daughter, while Vee had to get used to calling them--

"Mom, Dad," Vee said, "I'm...still worried."

"Being worried is fine, it makes you alive," Camila told her. "But being brave means you have to continue to act, no matter how worried you get. And if anything does go wrong--Which it WON'T--I swear to you that we'll all work through it together. As a family."

"Yeah..." Vee smiled a little at that word. "Family..."

"And we are here!" Manny announced as he parked the car in front of the school. "You kids ready for another day of school?"

"How many days until the weekend?" Luz asked.

"Currently, four."

"Aw, Eda said she'd show me more magic on the weekend..."

"It'll go faster than you'd think, mija," Manny told her. "Trust me."

Him and Camila then got out of the car and helped their daughters out of the car and into quick goodbye hugs.

"Have a good day you two," Camila said, giving both her girls a little kiss on the head. "We'll be here to pick you up by three."

"And want a full report about how well your day went," Manny added. "So be ready for that."

And he thought it'd be the end of that, only for Vee to look right up at him with a shine to her eyes.

"Thank you," She said. "For finding me...And helping me...And letting me be here. With you. And Mom."

"Oh...Vee..." Manny knelt down to stay on level with her eyesight. "There's no need to thank me. Helping you was a pleasure in of itself. And keeping you happy is its own reward. And it always will be."

"You mean it...?"

"I do."

"We both do," Camila added in, kneeling down with Manny. "You're a blessing this family didn't know it needed. Never forget that."

Vee smiled again, launching into another hug with Camila and Manny, with Luz quickly joining in to turn it into a group hug.

"Family hug!" She yelled before taking Vee's hand and smiling at her. "Now, come on! I'll show you my class, my favorite chair, and all the toys the teacher lets us use for being good!"

"Oh, okay." Vee waved to Camila and Manny. "Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad."

"Bye, Mami and Papi!" Luz waved as well, pulling Vee towards the school.

"Goodbye you two!" Camila yelled back as she and Manny waved.

"How you feeling?" Manny asked.

"Happy...But also nervous. Excited, but also like I'm going to throw up. Ooh, boy..."

"Come on, mi amor," Manny said, pressing a kiss to Camila's cheek. "We've got the day off today. Let's head home and enjoy it..."

"I could really use that..." Camila confessed, giving Manny a kiss as well. And as he went to the driver's seat, Camila gave one last look to the school, smiling at the sight of Luz and Vee laughing and getting along.

Whatever happened in the future, she felt she could handle it. Because a sight like that helped make it worth it in the end.

[coochellati]

Carnal Inhibitions

18+ ONLY

Pairing: Bruno Bucciarati x gender-neutral reader

Summary: Bruno takes on a submissive role, granting you total control over him.

Genre: Kinky-ass Smut

Content: Inappropriate use of stands, Bruno Bucciarati is a messy sub, overstimulating, edging, aftercare.

Word Count: 1,042

{Read on AO3!}

Drenched in sweat, the imperturbable underboss of Passione trembles under your touch, gasping as if he were fighting for his life. Eyes scrunched shut beneath furrowed brows, he reflexively attempts to cover his gaping mouth with his hand, but it's no use--the rope binding his wrist prevents him from reaching that far. His meticulously styled bangs now cling to his forehead in soaked clumps, the flashy gold clips holding his braid in place gradually sliding out of his hair.

Bruno Bucciarati is a fucking mess.

"Cazzo, m-merda--" he stammers, shooting you a frantic stare before throwing his head backward, letting out a filthy, guttural moan as his body abruptly jolts forward. "Please just let me--"

A frustrated groan escapes him as you suddenly release him and his stand from your grasp. He scrunches his eyes once more as he struggles against the ropes tethering him to his bed, but quickly resigns himself to his fate—he isn't going anywhere. He shoots you a distressed stare.

"I can't--I don't--I don't know how much more of this I can--" he desperately stutters, choking on his breath.

"What, can't handle a bit of pleasure?" you tease, a smirk plastered across your face.

"A bit of pleasure?" His voice shakes. "That's what you call it? This is torture! Ah--!" Bruno lets out a distraught whine as you begin caressing him with your thumbs, one for each tip. He's hot to the touch, cock flushed a deep shade of red.

"Oh, come on--you're a mafioso, you can handle it. Besides, I know you're enjoying this. If you weren't, you would have unsummoned Sticky Fingers by now," you smugly retort. He sharply inhales through gritted teeth as you resume your movements on him and his stand. 

"Too much, this is too much—" he whines, as the phantom sensations and tangible pleasure mix together, creating an unbearable amount of stimulation. You anticipate him to follow up with the safe word the two of you had chosen, but he doesn't, validating your previous claim.

Heartbeat pounding in his face, Bruno tenses, once again approaching climax. "Please--p-please let me cum," he begs, voice strained with hysteria. You can tell he's close--with an evil smile, you abruptly stop all movements, swiftly withdrawing your hands from him.

'Ah--Cazzo!' he cries out, releasing a prolonged, pained groan. With wide eyes, he stares at the ceiling, his lip trembling. He shuts his eyes, and the floodgates open—tears stream down his face, his thick, dark eyelashes clumping together. Each breath he takes is shaky, accompanied by soft sniffles. "I—I can't," he manages between gasps for air, his voice barely audible. "P-please, I can't..." The rest of his words dissolve into unintelligible jibberish.

You chuckle lowly, wiping away his tears. "I don't think I've ever seen you cry like this." Drawing your face close to his, you gently brush back his sodden bangs as he continues to weep. Finally, you give him a tender kiss on the forehead. "Alright—you've been good. I'll let you come." 

"T-thank you," Bruno chokes out, gulping as you continue massaging him and his stand with slow, deliberate strokes. With his mouth hanging agape, he emits a constrained gasp, his face intensely contorted in agonizing pleasure. His heart feels as if it's about to give out; a string of Italian expletives disjointedly spills from his mouth as he forcefully presses the back of his head into the mattress, body stiffening. 

"I'm going to--" his words are abruptly cut off by a sharp gasp, eyes widening as he tumbles over the threshold, vision fading to black as ecstasy engulfs his body. A loud, shameless groan fills the room, and his consciousness explodes into a flaming blast, body violently jerking as his senses become consumed by intense, rippling shockwaves. Pulsing in your hand, he releases, spilling out onto himself and the bedsheets surrounding him. 

With one final moan, he crumbles apart, his body going limp. Still in shock, he pants heavily, eyes quickly darting around the room in an attempt to make sense of his surroundings.

"Merda," he chuckles, still out of breath. A smile forms on his face. "That was intense."

"And you handled it so well," you warmly praise and begin stroking his hair, unfazed by its warm dampness. He lets out a content sigh as he sinks into the bed, body melting at your touch. The two of you sit still for a few seconds, savoring the moment before you reach for the baby wipes you had set on the nightstand in preparation for the events that had just occurred. "Here, let me clean you." He watches as you wipe away the mess on his torso, your touch delicate. 

Once finished, you cradle his jawline, eliciting a soft smile from Bruno. His deep, half-lidded eyes lock onto yours as you lean in close, noses touching. "I love you, Bruno."

"I love you, too," he whispers gently, releasing a singular, happy chuckle before pressing his warm lips against yours. A blissful haze descends, clouding your senses as the faint light from the flickering candle on the nightstand casts elongated shadows of both of you on the wall opposite. Everything around you is still, quiet, and calm.

Gently pulling away, Bruno lightly tugs at the ropes. "Care to untie me?"

"Oh—right, of course," you say, slightly flustered. He patiently waits as you release each limb.

Finally free, he sits up and rolls his wrists around, closing his eyes as he lets out a long exhale of relief. With one hand, he pushes back his hair and turns his head towards you, silently mouthing, "Thank you." You nod in acknowledgment and flop onto the bed, resting on your back.

"Oh, fuck," you mutter, realizing you hadn't checked where you decided to lie down. "We're going to have to wash the bedding."

He smiles in amusement, leaning over you. "Yeah, but not yet."

"Huh? Aren't we going to sleep somewhat soon...?--OH!" Surprise flashes across your face as Bruno suddenly pins you down. The sound of a zipper tickles your ears as you become securely fastened to the bed.

With a smirk on his face, he looks down at you. "What? You think you're off the hook?" He chuckles softly, shaking his head. His eyes narrow. "Your turn."

[mycological-mariner]

Cool so I get to start training in a forge and welding and steam engine maintenance and fitting on weekends

[theclearblue]

I'm gonna get into a brawl with my mother one day don't be surprised when I get on the news

[batsplat]

another bit of context that I think is key to understanding assen 2015 is that like. okay a last corner is a last corner; it's not like valentino has ownership over it or whatever. but there is also something in-your-face bold about thinking you can beat valentino rossi at that chicane. sure we don't quite associate the gt chicane with one specific iconic rossi overtake the same way we do last corner jerez or the corkscrew, but thinking you can steal the win from valentino at the chicane is kind of in the same spirit. that's valentino's chicane. he has made countless overtakes there over the years. he loves that chicane he really does

take 2013, where assen was the first race vale won after his ducati dry spell. his overtake on marc in that race isn't at the chicane, but it's in turn one - right after marc had made a small mistake on the chicane and gets poor drive down the straight. which could be completely innocuous, but is also the kind of thing that happens when you're defending against somebody you know is very good at one specific bit of the track. which marc knew. of course he did. after the start, valentino made two other overtakes in that race: on bradl and dani (the latter of which marc had an excellent view for). guess where they both happen. guess where marc overtakes dani

and marc straight up said in the assen 2015 post-race presser that his move there was premeditated, that he'd repeatedly tested out and planned that move during practise. marc, who obviously knows valentino's record at that track, who has studied him so so closely. who knew full well that the fight for the victory was most likely going to come down to the two of them, and knew it could come down to the very last chicane. his plan to win that race was to barge valentino aside, ideally on the final lap, at quite possibly valentino's best series of corners on the entire calendar. no wonder marc was pissed when it didn't work

[alagaisia]

I’m reminded of that post about how goths and people who wear only lots of pink are actually the same because “wearing only one color” is a specific choice in opposition to just looking Normal

I’m flying to a friend’s wedding today, and I recently acquired from my neighborhood free page a very pretty vintage suitcase in like a brocade upholstery texture in all of my good colors, so of course I needed a coordinated airport outfit à la Midge Maisel. You guys don’t know me, but I usually dress very put together, in what my sister calls Outfits, with a capital O to distinguish it from just wearing clothes. And since getting a full time job I’ve been slowly adding to my collection of vintage and 50’s-vibes clothes, because I just really like that aesthetic (my bridesmaid dress for the wedding is a vintage tea dress I got from Etsy. The fabric is in great condition but I had to reinforce pretty much every seam with my sewing machine, because the structural integrity of the original thread was breaking down, so that was an interesting learning experience).

All of which is to say that I Dressed Up for the airport in a vintage-y outfit that coordinates perfectly with some of the colors of my suitcase, and my hair is curled, and I have a vintage leather purse that my grandma gave me that matches her watch that I’m wearing and the shoes she bought me last summer at the same vintage store that my skirt came from, and a teenage-ish girl with whatever you call the 2023 teenage equivalent of emo/punk vibes, like the dark maroon mullet and not a lot of makeup and dark comfy clothes but like, very on purpose, told me I look cool when I walked past on the way to security

And like, she Gets It! We have different fashion goals but I think we put a similar degree of intention into the way we look compared to just wearing regular clothes. Which is cool! It’s validating. Not that I really need validation, but it’s always nice to get compliments, of course. And the way I dress is really not terribly distinctive most of the time, other than being Outfits and a little dressier than maybe the norm is, like I think most people who see me one time in passing would see that I look Nice but not necessarily see it as a cultivated Look. But punk mullet girl gets it.

[phagodyke]

ykw actually I am angry + disappointed w them. I've been pushing how I feel aside and trying to make it my own fault so it's all contained but I think theyve just been mean. and they really should know me better ik I try to pretend I don't expect more from them so I feel less hurt when they do things that upset me but we've been friends for years by this point. like come on.

[lynxgirlpaws]

y'all actually have irl friends? like, actually?

[saturnsuv]

update <3

[enterstellars]

and with that i do believe that my run with interstellar in imax has come to an end.

[solplease]

want to draw so badly but unfortunately i have to deal with stupid assignments that are due </3