Since BB has been watching reader and Bobby for a long time, does that mean he’s seen them get freaky? I feel like Bobby has definitely convinced reader to try some exhibitionism at work. Does BB know what to do the first time they sleep together or is he gonna be experiencing lust for the first time?
Oh, he's seen everything.
You have to understand the logistics of this. You close together. You open together. You spend hours alone in a building full of beds and couches and soft surfaces with a man who can't keep his hands to himself when things are good between you—and things used to be so good between you.
Bobby Franklin is a tactile person. Always has been.
He's the guy who pulls you into the stockroom by your belt loop. Who backs you against the mattress display in aisle six because you said something smart and he needs to shut you up about it. Who gets bored during a dead Tuesday afternoon and starts something he fully intends to finish before you clock out. He's not shy. He's not careful. He's a little reckless with it, actually. He likes the thrill of maybe someone could walk in, maybe the security camera catches something, maybe you should be quieter but he doesn't really want you to be.
And the whole time?
Something is behind the wall. Listening.
BB's been aware of pleasure as a concept for longer than most civilisations have existed. He's observed wanderers in the Backrooms finding comfort in each other, brief and desperate, two warm bodies trying to feel alive in a place designed to make you forget what alive means. He understood the mechanics. He catalogued the sounds, the movements, the biological functions. It was... unremarkable. Humans ate food, drank water, slept and fucked, which, occasionally, produced offsprings.
Then there was you.
It wasn't the act itself that hooked him. It was what lived around it.
The way Bobby would laugh against your throat halfway through, like even in the middle of wanting you he couldn't stop finding you funny. The way your breathing changed. Not just faster, but softer, hungrier, needy. The way you'd say Bobby's name and it sounded nothing like the way you said it during a shift, nothing like the way you said it during a fight. It sounded private, wanting, like a door opening.
The tenderness. That's what got him.
Because BB has seen plenty of want. Want is common. Want is just hunger. But what he heard through that wall (the slow moments, the ones where Bobby's hands weren't rushing, where you were just holding each other in the dark of a closed furniture store, foreheads together, breathing in sync, moaning into each other's mouths) that was something else.
That was two incomplete things trying to become one complete thing, and for a creature who's been singular and untouched for his entire ancient existence, that was the most fascinating phenomenon he'd ever encountered.
Not the sex.
The merging.
Every gasp that said I trust you with this. Every caress that said I know exactly where you need me. The way your bodies seemed to already know a language he didn't have a mouth to speak.
He wanted that.
Not the act itself. Not yet, not at first. He wanted to be the reason someone made those sounds. He wanted to be held like that. Wanted to know what it felt like to have someone pull him closer instead of pulling away, to have someone say his name (whatever his name would become) with that same open-door warmth.
So when he finally builds his body (Bobby's body, better, perfected) he's not starting from zero. He's been studying. He knows what Bobby did. He knows what worked, what made you arch, what made you laugh, what made you go quiet in the good way. He's an apex predator and you're a subject he's devoted himself to with the same focus he'd give to hunting.
But here's the thing: he's never felt it.
He knows the steps. In theory. He doesn't know the sensation. The first time you touch him (really touch him, skin to skin, your hand on his chest, his brand-new nerve endings firing for the first time) it's going to hit him like a freight train.
Every point of contact lighting up a body he built specifically to be touched by you. He designed these hands to hold you. He designed this mouth to kiss you, and kiss you, and kiss you. He built every nerve ending in this skin as an instrument tuned to your specific frequency, and he's never once been played.
Is he going to be good at it?
He's going to be devastating at it.
He watched Bobby fumble, watched Bobby get lazy, watched Bobby take shortcuts because Bobby knew you'd forgive him for it.
BB doesn't have that luxury. BB knows he's a copy, an imitation, a face borrowed from a man who didn't deserve it, and he knows you're going to be comparing every single second of it. So he's going to be meticulous. Thorough. He's going to take what Bobby did right and do it slower. Do it better. Do it sweeter and meaner and with that all consuming want he has for you.
And the things Bobby wasted? The way Bobby would roll over after, already half-asleep, already somewhere else in his head? The way Bobby would let the distance creep back in before your skin was even cool?
BB's not going to waste a single second of it. He's going to be the Bobby in the beginning, the one who loved you, but better in every way.
He's going to stay. He's going to keep touching you. He's going to learn what it means to feel another person's heartbeat slow down against his chest and he's going to become addicted to it.
He's someone who wanted this (wanted you, specifically, only you) for a long time. Who's built himself from the ground up to be the version of Bobby that never looks away, never checks out, never lets the silence curdle into something cold.
He's been alone for an eternity. He watched Bobby have everything he wanted and let it rot.
idk if youve already written this but favorite sex positions with TT/Aerion??
i haven't yet so here are some of trailer trash!aerion's favorite positions! ♡︎⋆. w visuals
doggy on couch ("lazy susan")
one of tt!aerion's favorite positions is you sprawled out on the couch, on your stomach and pounding into you from behind, his hands tangling in your hair, yanking your head back as he grunts with each thrust or his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks.
the worn fabric of the couch creaks under you both, the smell of his cheap cologne and your pretty perfume mixing with the heat of your skin. his cock presses against your entrance, teasing, before he pushes inside stretching you open. he groans when you take him, you're always so so so tight for him!! he won't last long with your walls fluttering like that.
he’ll let out a string of low, guttural curses that get muffled by your gasps. he likes that he can see the way you take every inch, the way you stretch around him, desperate to accommodate him completely. he’ll grip your hips harder, nails digging into your skin, and lean over you, trapping you against the worn cushions.
"look at me, c'mon look at me-" he’ll command, his voice rough and demanding as he picks up the speed, pounding into you with a ferocity that leaves you seeing stars. the sound of skin slapping against skin is loud in the small, cramped space of the living room, echoing off the peeling paint and the bare walls.
face to face
aerion's absolute favorite position is anything with eye contact. on the armchair, on his bed, the front seat of the truck, on the boat…and pull you onto his lap. you straddle him, facing him, and he wraps his arms tight around your waist, his hands wandering up your back to hold you close.
he loves this angle. it lets him look deep into your eyes while he works you open. his grip on your hips is firm, anchoring you so he can lift and thrust up into you with steady, deliberate strokes, grinding against your sensitive walls.
the sight of your pretty face when he hits that sweet spot sends a spark through him. he likes watching you fall apart for him, seeing the pleasure wash over your features, your lips parting, eyes fluttering. cooing a sweet, “i know…i know, baby.”
he’ll tilt his head down to kiss you, messy and hungry, swallowing your moans against his mouth. he LOVES to kiss you, wet smooches against your cheek, jaw and neck- just anywhere he can get to, he’s kissing. his fingers trace patterns on your lower back, feeling the tremors running through you as he rocks his hips against yours. he wants to memorize every expression you make, every sound you breathe out when he fills you up completely, marking you not just with his touch, but with his gaze.
pole position (thigh master)
he'll sprawl out on the bed, one knee bent, and you'll climb over him, straddling his thigh while he lies on his back. his leg goes between yours, pressing up against your clit with every movement.
he loves that you have to grind against him to get it right, that you have to work to find the rhythm. he'll guide your hips, showing you exactly where to sit, how to angle your body so his thigh is grinding against you just right.
his hands will rest on your hips, holding you in place as he lifts his leg up to grind against you more firmly. it's intimate in a different way—slower, more deliberate. he likes watching you squirm on top of him, likes knowing he's controlling the pace without even touching your pussy.
as you start to get comfortable with the rhythm, he'll grab your hips and pull you down so he can slide his cock inside you from this angle. the combination of his thigh grinding against your clit and his cock stretching you open is too much to handle.
he'll hold you there, riding him in reverse while taking your boyfriend sooo deep, all while his leg keeps up the pressure on your most sensitive spot. "look at this ass," he grunts, slapping it lightly, "you're fuckin' soakin’ my leg-" watching your juices slick up his thigh.
How long can bb last? I imagine his stamina goes CRAZY
Better question is actually how long can you last?
Because he has no real off button and when he gets a taste (you have to understand this is entity that’s existed for longer than we understand and has never experienced pleasure this way) so finding it with you is just him lowkey hitting you with that—
you know that trope where it’s princess + knight, but they’ve both been captured by the bad guys and the princess is now gripped by the jaw by the villain, receiving a thin cut to her cheek while remaining completely still with a defiant look in her eyes even as a droplet of blood begins to trickle out of the wound, all while 3 people AT THE VERY LEAST need to have their hands locked on the knight because he’s thrashing around like a wild animal, trying so so so desperately, violently, to get to her?
Honestly I cant stand being around my loved ones anymore. I just want them to leave me alone. Inside I just cant stand them.
I’m trying to enlist in the navy. I know thats the only way they will accept me leaving.
Ive also started to just not like my boyfriend anymore. I feel like I was really loving towards him. I just tried to maintain being a positive person in his life. He is really hot and cold. Sometimes he is the most loving man ever. And other times he makes me feel like I am so annoying. Trying to talk to him while he is in that mood is like pulling out nails. I’ve detached myself from the relationship. When I would think of him I would get warm inside. Now I don’t feel that anymore. I don’t find his quirks endearing.
I just feel this deep resentment inside like I have never felt before. It’s almost apathetic.
When the night gets quiet. When only the crickets chirp and the fire crackles. Dunk’s mind wonders to the best thing he knows: You. Since the moment you two had met You consumed him.
Dunk often watched you. He watched the way your fingers brushed through your hair while you are braiding it, the way you bite down on your lip when frustrated. How you licked your lips when thirsty. How you hissed when in pain.
His gut twists looking at you. It made him almost sick. He wanted you badly. Even if it was in the little ways. The only way his lips will touch yours is when you share the waterskin. The only time he will ever touch your delicate hand is when he helps you off Thunder. Everytime your bodies would brush together. His skin burned as if you were seeping into him.
He imagined what it would be like to hold you. The way your earthy scent would surround him. How he would be able to feel your heartbeat. His rough hands against your soft skin. The thoughts made his cock stir. it always ended that way. His thoughts steered to your perfect lips. What they would feel after hours of kissing you. He would love to see them swollen around his cock. he imagined your moans would be similar to when you jump into cold water too quickly. He loved to imagine you underneath him.
Usually his nights end with his shirt in his mouth and his hands around his cock while looking at you sleep. He bites down hard trying not to make a sound.
Dunk hated to defile you in such a way but he couldn’t stop himself from just having this one pleasure in life.
