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tarrynightss · 9 months

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Under Captain Price’s desk

Synopsis: You give Price a blowjob underneath his desk, only for Soap to walk in. It would be better to stop before you get caught, but teasing Price is so much more fun

Warnings: Smut

Pairing: John Price x genderneutral reader

One of Price’s hands is wound tightly in your hair, the other one gripping onto the edge of his desk like his life depends on it. You are seated underneath it, on your knees, your mouth sliding along his cock deliciously. The sinful sight of it alone has a flush appearing behind his beard. You shouldn’t do this, not right here in his office during the day, but Price was far too eager for your touch to stop you. Your eyes stare up at his, tears pricking at the corners when you take him deep into your throat, your hands bracing you against his muscular thighs. With the way his hips sputter up against your face you can tell he’s close, his face scrunched up in pleasure. All you hear are his soft groans before a knock startles you both.

Price pulls you off of his cock with lightning speed, quickly pushing you further underneath his desk and scooting himself closer to it as well. Your back is pressed against the wood of his desk, his cock smearing your own spit and his precum along your cheek as there is little space for either of you to move to. Your face is essentially sandwhiched against his crotch, but not without reason, as within seconds you hear the door to his office opening.

“I did not tell you you could come in,” Price says gruffly, trying to appear as casual as possible.

You can feel your heartbeat in your throat as you realize you almost got caught on your knees in front of your captain. A shiver runs over your spine as you imagine what could’ve happened, the thought surprisingly not all that unpleasant…

A care-free laugh resounds through the room, and you quickly pinpoint it to be Soap’s. “Don’t be such a hard-ass cap, got those files you wanted.”

Price’s hand in your hair strokes you gently, clearly telling you to stay still as you hear footsteps approaching the desk. You really, really should, but another shiver of excitement runs through you as you turn your head slightly, smearing his cock over your lips. You can feel the muscles in his thighs flex under your fingers, the hand in your hair tightening in warning. A smile pulls at your lips as you move one hand to grip onto his cock, bringing the head directly against your mouth.

“Great,” Price coughs, covering up a surprised groan when your tongue flicks out to lick his tip. “Leave them here and I’ll look through them later.”

You hear the thick folder hit the wood above your head. “You sure cap? There’s a lot here to sift through. Seriously, when you start reading what this guy’s been up to…”

As Soap rattles on you stop listening, instead focusing on licking from the base of Price’s cock back up to the tip, circling your tongue around it teasingly. You can feel him twitch in your hand with every movement, his hips slightly bucking when you close your lips around the head. He tugs on your hair again, warning you, but you don’t relent.

“You alright? You’re looking a bit flushed, heard there’s a bug going around,” Soap says, blissfully unaware of what is actually happening.

Price curses under his breath as he runs a hand over his face. You would chuckle about how stressed you have him if your mouth wasn’t currently occupied otherwise, sliding his cock deeper and deeper into your throat.

“I’m fine, just real busy,” Price tells Soap. His hand tugs at your hair, but this time it isn’t to warn you to stop, oh no. You feel the difference, feel the edge of roughness as he does it. You’re definitely paying for this later. “Let’s meet up in two hours, yeah? Then we’ll go over the details.”

Soap lingers for a moment more before you hear his heavy boots retreating back to the door. “Understood, sir.”

You can feel Price’s muscles relax as soon as Soap closes the door behind himself, leaving the two of you alone again. He instantly scoots back his chair, pulling you off of him as you whine.

“Fuck, you want to get me in trouble, don’t you, love?” He says, his brows drawn together in a frown.

He’s a little frustrated, but there’s also clear desire in his gaze as he stares down at you. And he could never get mad at you, not really.

You give him a sheepish smile. “I can’t help that you didn’t lock your door.”

He grabs onto your arm, tugging you up on his lap till you’re practically face to face with him, uncaring about dirtying your pants or shirt as his cock presses up against your stomach. “Right, because I should’ve known you would crawl under my desk, suck my cock, and then not even stop when one of my men comes in.”

“A true lack of foresight on your part, captain.” You bite your lip to hold back a chuckle.

He grabs onto your chin with one hand, and a heavy second passes before a lazy grin pulls at his lips. “You are dirty little thing, you know that?”

“Affirmative.”

He groans in approval, pressing a soft yet hungry kiss to your lips before pulling away and slapping your ass.

“Now go lock the door, I’m not done with you yet.”

#john price x reader #smut #john price #John price x reader smut #john price x gender neutral reader #john price x female reader #cod #cod smut #cod x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #cod price #captain price #price x reader

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sophrosynesworld · 3 months

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Red, White, and You

**Warning:** I'm at a party right now, writing fanfiction on a random girl's couch. This is absolutely not canon Bakugo, but I felt like writing something sappy. The liquor has me inspired. Happy birthday America. 🦅🎆

“So, this is an American thing?” Katsuki asks, curiosity mixed with skepticism in his voice.

I tug on his hand as we walk down the trail. The sound of crickets fills the air, lightning bugs illuminate our path.

“Every year,” I reply, giving his hand a squeeze. “You’re going to love this.” He steps over a fallen tree, and before helping me across

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he teases, his smirk barely visible in the moonlight. The trees begin to slowly thin, and soon we step into a clearing with city lights flickering below, the view before us breathtaking.

A few other families are there, children running past us with sparklers. Katsuki guides me close to the edge and sets our blanket down.

“Seriously, what are we doing here?” he presses, helping me sit.

“Nope, still a surprise,” I say, grinning.

We don't talk long before bursts of color fill the sky. Fireworks flare out, sparkle, and create shapes over the city.

“Holy Shit!” Katsuki's eyes go wide, his mouth slightly open as he watches. Each pop makes him jump a little, but excitement soon overtakes any apprehension.

“Do you like it, Kats?” I ask, leaning my head against his shoulder. His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer.

“This is the best day of my life.” His free hand lightly traces down my face before and kissing me, his lips warm and eager against mine. I push away and point to a massive explosion of red and gold fanning out to our left.

“You weren’t kidding,” he says, eyes glued to the sky. “This is amazing!”

We stay there for a good 45 minutes, pointing out our favorites and taking videos. To my surprise, Katsuki absolutely loses it when he sees a little kid shooting a roman candle into the air. He practically shoves me off him to show the child his own “human-sized roman candles.”

“Katsuki, this is America. Please stop running up to random children. Parents will shoot you here.” I scold him.

“But look at this!” he says, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he sends a small burst of energy into the air. “ Mine are so much cooler than those!”

He sets off his own explosions, laughing maniacally. Nearby parents give us wary looks, but Katsuki’s quirk has quickly caught the attention of their children. Small screams of excitement fill the air as they run closer to look.

“He’s actually a pro hero in Japan.” I reassure the parents. “He’s just very passionate.”

They give me an uncertain look, but don’t stop their children from climbing all over him like a jungle gym. Katsuki pretending to be some sort of …ape?

As the fireworks show winds down, I let them play while I pack up our things and wait patiently. Suki tries his best to fight them off, but 6 little bodies work together to push him over.

After a few minutes, Suki runs back up to me, sweat pouring off of his body as he tries to engulf me into a hug. I fake gag before evading his grip.

“You’re so sweaty!” I squeal, the smell of caramel burning into the air as I run back down the trail. Katsuki is still buzzing with energy, happy to chase after me like prey. It doesn’t take him long to catch me, picking me up, and covering me in his sweat.

“Katsuki! You’re so gross!”

“I can’t believe how amazing that was,” he says, squeezing my hand. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“You’re welcome, Kats”. I force myself to not roll my eyes. “I’m glad you had fun.”

He stops suddenly, turning me around to face him.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he says, his tone turning serious. “I know I’m not always the easiest person to be around, but you… you make everything better.”

“Katsuki…” I start, but he holds up a hand.

“Let me finish. I don’t say this enough, but I love you. And I don’t want to ever take that for granted.”

I feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. “I love you too.”

He pulls me into a tight hug, and we stand there for a moment, just holding each other under the night sky.

Don’t drink and drive! Happy Firework Day to those who don’t celebrate and Happy 4th to those who do!

#mha #my hero academia #mha x reader #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #fanfic #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katsuki #bakugou #bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader

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ineffable-suffering · 10 months

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Re: "You go too fast for me, Crowley", because I think I finally figured out the real meaning behind that line

Naturally, this line of all lines, the most line of them all, is constantly circling around my rotten brain like a moth around a flame.

In addition, though, there's always been another Good Omen's line/exchange that has kept bothering me again lately. And literally until just about five minutes ago, I had never thought of relating them back to each other.

Now, five minutes later, I have and I think I just ... figured it out.

In case you were wondering: The second line that wouldn't leave my head is what Aziraphale says to Crowley during their clandestine meeting at St. James' Park in 1862 when Crowley asks him for Holy Water:

A: "I'm not bringing you a suicide pill, Crowley!"

And here's what bugs me about this: Why did Aziraphale, without a breath of hesitation, immediately assume Crowley wanted the Holy Water to commit suicide if things ever went wrong?

That's ... such a dark assumption to make. Especially because that is absolutely not what Crowley wanted it for, as he literally says himself:

C: "That's not what I want it for, just insurance."

And what does Aziraphale reply?

A: "I'm not an idiot, Crowley!"

Because he firmly, firmly believes that Crowley is asking him to bring him the Holy Water as a foolproof method of taking his own life in case Heaven and Hell ever find out about them.

To this day, that conversation gives me chills whenever I think about it. We so rarely get see what genuine emotions and thoughts for and about Crowley Aziraphale keeps neatly tucked away behind that tightly buttoned waistcoat of his. This moment in 1862 is one of the very rare ones where his façade slips a little – and the peak we get isn't a fun one. It's a very dark, scared and vulnerable one.

What am I on about and how does this all relate to the infamous "You go too fast for me, Crowley"-line? Let's look at it under the cut.

(Word count: 2560 | Reading time: ~10 min. | TW: mentions of suicide)

Like I mentioned up above, it always struck me to my core that Aziraphale very clearly immediately assumes Crowley wants the Holy Water for possible suicide. Not only is that a very dark and upsetting thought, it also poses the question: Why? Why is that the first place Aziraphale's mind goes to?

Crowley says at the very beginning of their conversation:

C: "We have a lot in common, you and me."

He's definitely referring to their (very mutual) relationship Arrangement and the fact that they both find themselves kept apart and watched by their respective head offices, not allowing them to ever misstep and give themselves away.

After bickering around a little like they do, Crowley asks his favour – and he makes it very clear in a quiet and serious voice that:

C: "This is something else. [...] For if it all goes wrong."

He's not just talking about Heaven or Hell finding out about some silly frivolous miracles, no. He's talking about them finding out about their Arrangement, their relationship. The worst of all worst case scenarios.

So bad, in fact, that he doesn't even ask his favour out loud but instead decided to write it down.

Aziraphale's reaction is ... severe.

We immediately see his face drop as, he too, realizes that this is all of a sudden a very serious conversation indeed. And he immediately and vigorously denies Crowley's request because he thinks it to be one for a suicide pill.

To understand how he could arrive at that lightning-quick (and also wrong) conclusion, we have to try and understand how Aziraphale sees Crowley and the threat that the angel himself as well as their relationship poses to Crowley.

Crowley can, at times, be a very self-deprecating and cynical character. He's without a doubt carrying a lot of trauma and unspoken fears and emotions with him at all times. Aziraphale at this point in their relationship probably has a good notion of what those are – but he doesn't know the whole depth of it because they've never been able to speak freely enough and Crowley has seemingly decided to keep many-a things to himself, still. They both tread the waters of plausible deniability very well.

So, to jump to the conclusion of Crowley entertaining suicidal thoughts in the face of unavoidable danger is ... quite a violent jump. And remember: "[...] underneath it all, Crowley was an optimist. If there was one rock-hard certainty that had sustained him through the bad times then it was utter surety that the universe would look after him."

So, what is it that Aziraphale does know that would drive him to such a drastic conclusion when, in reality, secret optimist Crowley only ever wanted the Holy Water to protect himself against Hell to come out safe on the other end of things?

2500 BC, Land of Uz: A: "That [going along with Heaven/Hell as far as you can] sounds, um ..." C: "Lonely? Yeah." A: "But you said it wasn‘t." C: "I‘m a demon. I lied."

After Crowley helps Aziraphale out in Edinburgh in 1827, Crowley is immediately sucked back down to Hell We don't know what exactly happened after that or just how long Crowley was gone. We also don't know if Crowley ever told Aziraphale what happened, once he returned. What we and Aziraphale do know, is that Crowley ends up asking him for Holy Water, out of the blue, only a couple of decades later.

1601, The Globe: A: "But if Hell finds out [about the Arrangement], they won't just be angry. They'll destroy you." (additionally, later in time, C: "My lot does not send rude notes.")

Ergo: It's very clear that Aziraphale seems to have put two and two together with his own angel math by what he has a) witnessed himself and b) what Crowley has said himself which equals: In going against Hell, Crowley has felt incredibly lonely before he had Aziraphale by his side and if Heaven and Hell were to ever find out about them, Hell's punishment would be a whole lot worse than Heaven's.

He thinks Hell would destroy Crowley.

So when Crowley, who so rarely says how he really feels and one of the few times he did, told Aziraphale he was lonely, says he wants the Holy Water, the immediate conclusion Aziraphale comes to is: He wants it as an emergency exit. In case things go pear-shaped. He wants it to escape whatever dreadful punishment Hell would have in stock for such a lonely traitor. He wants it as a suicide pill.

For Aziraphale to not even entertain the thought or believe that Crowley does indeed only want the Holy Water as a means of self-defense is, again, absolutely heartbreaking. Because it tells us a thing or two just how scared and desperate Aziraphale thinks Crowley to be. Something along the lines of: "If I myself am already so immensely terrified of Hell's punishment for Crowley, how terrified must Crowley be."

I think a whole lot of this is also very, very strong projection and shows us how Aziraphale himself feels about all of it. How scared he is for himself and Crowley. Of what would be done to them.

A: „Out of the question! Do you know what trouble I'd be in if they knew I‘d been ... fraternizing?“

He knows they would both suffer immense consequences and that Crowley‘s still would be worse. If anything, in a dark and twisted way, it shows that Aziraphale himself has definitely entertained the idea of suicide as a concept, at least. Maybe not for himself or Crowley, yet, but remember, he‘s awfully fond of Shakespeare‘s Hamlet.

A: „To be or not to be? Buck up, Hamlet!“

Yeah, buck up indeed. (By the way, there's a great meta by @greenthena on why Aziraphale likes Hamlet so much that kind of plays into my point a little. You can read it here).

And again, who knows what Aziraphale might have actually witnessed of Hell's cruel ways already in the past (Edinburgh of 1827, or at other times) that made him arrive at the conclusion that, ultimately, suicide would be the less painful choice for Crowley when faced with Hell's consequence for their relationship.

I told you this was gonna take a bit of a darker turn. So, here we are. At the turn. It doesn't get much lighter from here on out, I'm afraid.

Because all of this gives "You go too fast for me, Crowley" a whole new devastating meaning.

Personally, I always found it a teensy bit difficult to relate that line back to Aziraphale implying that Crowley was trying to push their relationship a little too fast for him.

Deducing that as the meaning of "You goo to fast for me" after we were shown in the montage of S1E3 that Aziraphale, from circa 1941 on, was undoubtedly fully aware of just how madly in love he was with Crowley, has always felt odd to me. And it continued to feel even odder after we got the whole story of 1941 in S2.

Because if that minisode showed us anything, it's that if you let Aziraphale take over the metaphorical wheel for about five minutes, "too fast" doesn't even match the astronomical speed with which he crashes head first into 15th base. Forget the hand holding and kissing, let's go straight to you shooting me on the first date I planned for us!

And they say romance is dead.

Now look, of course, Aziraphale is still keeping most of his romantic feelings and longing bottled up out of fear that Heaven and Hell could find out about them and have Crowley destroyed. We've established that this very big fear of his is the driving factor behind him never trying to overstep that invisible line.

But still, those feelings? They're there. Oh, Hell, they are t-h-e-r-e.

Our angel is a master of self-delusion but not even he is holy enough to deny the fact that, if he could, he'd want nothing more than to lock that demon down and elope together into their happily-ever-after.

So, when Aziraphale finally budges and hands over the Holy Water to Crowley in 1967, I've always had a hard time believing that that line coming from Mr. "I guess there's something to be said for shades of grey" himself actually meant: "I'm not ready yet, you want to go faster than I do."

Because really, apart from trying to convince Aziraphale of the Arrangement and rescuing him from every silly, coincidental predicament the angel has gotten himself into over the millennia, what exactly is it that Crowley did here to "go too fast"? Hell, he's been at it at the pace of a snail ever since, very well knowing that Aziraphale would take a lot of gentle nudging and lunch temptations invitations to agree with the Arrangement.

All Crowley does in that moment in the car is offer Aziraphale a lift, anywhere he wants to go. And yes, that is code their little dance, that is how he shows his love for Aziraphale. But Aziraphale has never before deemed that an issue or seen it as a too-fast progression of their relationship. He even suggests another date himself two seconds later, saying:

A: "Perhaps we could go for a picknick one day. Dine at the Ritz."

So, what, one sentence later he suddenly wants to hit the breaks again? After he literally looked like this the last time Crowley drove (literally way too fast) through burning London?

Nah, I'm not buying it.

Instead, here's what I think Aziraphale really means with this line that changed us all (and I'm sorry, but I'm about to one-up the sadness of the 1862 meeting):

I think Aziraphale is referring to what he thinks is the reason Crowley wants the Holy Water for.

Suicide.

And boy-fucking-howdy, does that change the game.

Because if we assume that Aziraphale, all throughout the one-century-long Holy Water standoff, thought Crowley wanted it as a quick, ahem, Escape From Everything, what I think Aziraphale really means with "You go too fast for me" is this:

To him, Crowley is asking the most cruel deed of him to bring him the one thing that could take Crowley away from Aziraphale for good. For ever. In case things go pear shaped. In case Hell finds out about them and comes after Crowley.

To Aziraphale, Crowley is asking him to load the bullet into his gun for the time it won't be a trick. So he can escape before Hell gets to him.

More devestatingly, I think Aziraphale even understands where that notion comes from. Aziraphale knows how dangerous their relationship is. And Hell does not send rude notes. So, I think after pondering on it for a good millennia, part of him has come to understand why Crowley would want an emergency exit.

Which is absolutely fucking heartbreaking.

Especially because that's not even what Crowley was thinking when he made his request. He truly only wanted it as a defense. But Aziraphale doesn't believe or fully realize that. Aziraphale believes the Holy Water is a suicide pill and to some extent even understands why Crowley might want that.

And yet, despite (wrongly, but well) understanding Crowley's intentions, Aziraphale is still deeply upset and terrified at the thought of Crowley taking his own life should they ever get caught. Which explains his extreme reaction all the way back at their clandestine meeting at St. James' Park.

Aziraphale assuming Crowley's way out of the most pear-shaped situation of them all would be suicide also means that Aziraphale would be the one who'd be ... well, left behind.

He recognises that choosing death over possible eternal punishment is maybe somewhat of an understandable choice. And yet, it's a choice that, to him, Crowley has made without him. Seemingly way before their first talk about it.

Aziraphale thinks Crowley seems to have made up his mind about his escape plan without him in it.

He thinks that if they were caught, Crowley would want some Holy Water around to quickly chug before he would be at Hell's mercy and that would be it.

Crowley would, for the first time ever, really leave. Not just for Alpha Centauri. But actually leave. Escape and run away to a point of no return. For good. Without Aziraphale. To a place where Aziraphale couldn't follow him, no matter how fast he tried to run himself.

It goes a little something like:

"If they found out about us, you would choose to go where I couldn't follow. And you're asking me to pave the road for you to walk there. Without me ever being able to get a say in walking alongside you. You want to go to places where I could never join you. You'd run away without me and I understand why but you didn't even give me a chance to catch up. You go too fast for me, Crowley."

F*ck, man. I think I need to lie down.

Y'know what else that gives new meaning to?

Alright, that's it, I'm out. Enough sad meta-ing for the day. See you all around once I've stopped slipping further into the void, folks. :')

#good omens #good omens meta #my own meta #good omens season 2 #good omens 2 #gos2 #go2 #good omens s2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #you goo too fast for me crowley #aziraphale is master of projection #i made myself sad with this #The Arrangement #holy water #im gonna go read fluff now bye

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wheezingstar · 3 months

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Sharing CoD head-cannons I found on Pinterest and might expand on

Alex Keller is the EPITOME of golden retriever boyfriend, mister man will treat you, no matter how much it may cost, he also gets excited seeing you at home and getting to listen to you talk about your day and ask questions or give input

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish is the kind of man who LOVES, sharing his culture with you. He’s in awe whenever you sit and listen with genuine interest in your eyes as he rants about useless things, random fun fact, and his country

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick find lightning so interesting that every time it storms, he will turn off all the lights, open his curtains, and lay in bed to watch for lightning. it's one of the most fascinating things to him.

John Price got into a car accident when he was younger and legitimately almost died. So now he forces everyone to wear seatbelts and gets genuinely panicky and mad when they don’t put on their seatbelt.

When Roach was younger he would find bugs and bring them inside and make little houses for them out of cardboard

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley can fall asleep anywhere, if you talk to him and he’s past out and haven’t had sleep in awhile, he will answer right back. Won’t make any kind of sense, but hey, get what ya get and you don’t throw a fit. It’s hilarious. But other than that, that man is the lightest sleeper ever, he has to be real tired for that to happen.

#wheezing star brainrot #call of duty #call of duty headcanons #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john mactavish headcannon #john price #gary roach sanderson #alex keller #task force 141 #task force 141 headcanons

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ellsbclls · 2 years

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can’t stop thinking about ellie finding a strap while she’s on patrol . . . ( 18+ minors please for the love of god don’t interact )

stumbles upon this desolate ‘adult world’ where, in an odd and rare display of post-apocalyptic serendipity, it’s last breath clings to the still blinking open sign. waves at her with red and blue fingers that say “we’ve got what you need!” and while jesse flattens a wrinkled maid costume against his lean frame, she manages to stuff the harness into her bag before he could see it and give her a whole patrol’s worth of regret

can’t stop thinking about how shy she gets when she first brings it up to you, because there are a slew of things that ellie is, and shy has never been one of them. so it ticks you off at first, puts you into high gear, squares your shoulders and tightens your spine until you finally see what she’s talking about — long, and girthy, and so shiny that the fluorescents drown out the pseudo-veins. the only reason you laugh is because you’re trying to cover a flustered sigh.

can’t stop thinking about ellie making a home between your thighs. one arm hooked around the dip where your tummy meets your leg, thumb stroking against your clit, sending you up the fucking wall with how feather light her touch is. absent minded. and the other is pulling at your lip , clearing a path for her tongue to lap at your folds, your sweet little hole, all nice and lazy with it . she’d be at it for minutes, hours, fucking days if that’s what it took to make you wet enough for her, all “gotta make sure you can take it, bug.” and “you can barely take my fingers, know you’re gonna strangle this fucking cock.” know your pussy just drools with a mixture of her spit and your own slick, to the point where her chin is painted in it, her throat, hell — the collar of her wife beater.

can’t stop thinking about when she finally puts it in. how you had to beg her, give her a flash of those big, wet doe eyes that make her crumble oh so fast, and just like that you’re both fumbling with the dildo. giggling. trying to figure out how the fuck it goes on the harness itself and “if it comes off in the middle of this i’m gonna kill myself .” and “you’re gonna make me finish myself?” but no sooner than you figuring it out does she line herself up. lays a tender kiss behind your knee as you swallow the tip and murmur a low “it’s so big, els. it’s too fucking big” and she nearly fucking stops. the furrow in your brows and the waver in your voice is enough to make her go into fight or flight, but you lock eyes with her and you’re anything but scared. hell, you’re somewhere else, hazy and sated with enough love and trust to let her keep going. so she keeps burrowing between those snug little walls, huffs a low “that’s it, that’s my girl.”

cleans the tears littering your cheeks with sweet kisses, and you take the opportunity to coax more out of her, whisper “i’m all yours, show me i’m all yours.” because you feel so fucking full, but you could feel fuller, and with every inch by suffocating inch that stretches you out, lights up every nerve it presses into by the minute, nothing compares to the jolt of lightning that shoots up your spine when her hips stutter. hard. bottoms out in a clean sweep and prompts strangled moans from the both of you.

can’t stop thinking about the slick sound that accompanies her thrusts, from tentative to greedy. how it gets louder when she hooks your knee just over her waist. this wet, sloppy puddle that spreads over your thighs, over her thighs each time she plunges into you, and pulls back with spindles of it tethered together. how it’s drowned out by the raspy little grunts she punches out of you. a part of you wonders what you were so scared about, panting underneath her, teeth bared each time she prods against that devastating spot that you can barely reach on your own because it’s just so fucking perfect

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams smut #tlou #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams x reader blurb #ellie thots

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deathblacksmoke · 2 months

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you're my summer babe

pairing: nick folio x f!reader

word count: 1.2K

cw: cute country bf fishin' folio, vaginal fingering, semi-public sex, hammock hehe

author's note: the first of july's folio requests! anon requested a camping trip for the bb boy's birthday and @mysticdoodlez requested a lil something i sprinkled in. happy birthday sweet foli <3

banner by my dearest @baddestomens | divider by @saradika-graphics | title from "summer babe" by pavement.

It had been your idea to go camping for a couple days for Nick’s birthday. You’d been meaning to get out to Deep Creek for ages, and figured he would love a nice ride and a birthday sunset along the lakeshore.

Sitting bored on the dock while he fishes and you get eaten alive by mosquitos, however, had not been a part of your plan.

“Nicky, I wanna go swimming,” you complain, trying your best not to sound too whiny. It is his birthday, after all, but you’re covered in bites and your skin is roasting, coated in a thin sheen of uncomfortable sweat. You wish you’d thought ahead enough to bring yourself a hat. “It’s so hot out here.”

“Go ahead and hop in, baby,” he responds, not bothering to look back at you. He seems to have missed the implied with you that you’d hoped would be clear. You roll your eyes, taking close note of the fact that his shoes are off and his phone is sitting on top of his sweatshirt at his feet.

Complaining won’t do you much good, you decide. You can beg him to take you down to the swimming beach and eventually he’ll cave, but Nick likes surprises. You’ll give him one.

You strip down to your swimsuit and he doesn’t so much as raise his head to take notice — a sweet little shocked yelp escapes him when you tackle him forward into the lake. His eyes are wide when he bobs back up to the surface, an incredulous smile on his face. You move to kiss him before he dunks your head back under the water.

The beach has mostly cleared off by the time the sun begins to set. You lay your book down on your chest and from the spot in the hammock you’ve been occupying for the better part of the afternoon, you watch Nick, hat over his face and dozing.

You can only hope you’ve made it a perfect birthday trip for him, pleased to see him tuckered out and sleepy under the sun, the way he likes the most. You notice him stirring gently as you make your way over to him.

He squints his eyes open when you take his hat off his face and sit down on the blanket beside him. His smile is immediate and always warms you from the inside out, the way he never seems to be anything less than thrilled to see you in front of him.

He sits up to throw an arm around you and pull you into his side. You fall into him easily to watch the sunset over the lake — your favorite view with him.

The pained little hiss he lets out when you lean your head onto his shoulder startles you. You pull back to see you’d missed a spot when helping him with his sunblock, an angry red starting to form along his collarbones and chest.

“I have some aloe in my backpack,” you ask, soothing your hand across the burn, transfixed by the tiny marks on his skin, the way he’s so warm beneath your wandering fingers. “Should I go and grab it?”

“Not yet, honey,” he responds, pulling you back into him. He stifles the hiss this time, choosing instead to have you close to him, admiring the pinky-orange of the sky. “After the sunset.”

The evening passes quietly until you’re curled up tight together in the one person hammock, nothing but you two and the lightning bugs and the sounds of distant campfire talks. Your face is buried in his neck and he smells like sand and lake water, a hint of weed leftover from the joint you’d shared earlier on the dock.

“I wish we didn’t have to go,” Nick says, the first break in the peace and quiet for what feels like hours.

You consider it for a long moment. The break has been nice, not just to celebrate his birthday together in a favorite place, but to get away from everything with him. The break has been so needed.

“Me too, honey,” you reply, a little dejected. You could stay here with him for ages, just the two of you. “I might be able to take a couple extra days off work. We only have the campsite for tonight, though.”

He gives you a mischievous little chuckle as he holds you closer. You have to keep your eyes from rolling, knowing he has an idea that’ll have them traveling backwards in your skull. He always does.

“That’s all right,” he says through a naughty laugh. “We’ll sleep right here. In our hammock on the lake.”

His hand travels between your bodies before you can stop it, not that you would otherwise. It’s risky, out in the open on the lakeside, but it’s tempting with everyone else back at their camps, no prying eyes or listening ears. He’s so warm, so close. His hand inches down the front of your suit, fingering through your folds, and you’re helpless to stop him or the satisfied little sigh you breathe into his neck.

“Nicky,” you gasp into his mouth as he curls two fingers inside of you. He shushes you, kissing you deeper. You don’t want to draw the attention from anyone who may be around, but always find yourself struggling to keep quiet when his hands are on you, his lips kissing a path across your shoulder. “Honey.”

“Gotta keep quiet, love,” he laughs, grinning against your neck, nipping little marks into your skin. You stifle your sounds the best that you can. The way he touches you always sets you alight, even when you’re not in the stifling heat of a summer night.

Your end approaches you quickly, always helpless against his touch. You’re about to tumble over the edge when you hear a tell-tale crack, only another moment and not enough time to do anything before the branch you’d secured the hammock to falls, leaving the both of you plummeting to the hard ground beneath you.

It only adds to your embarrassment when a voice comes from somewhere behind you, “Y’all all right out here?”

You don’t let yourself wonder how much they heard, if anything at all. You hope for the latter. You rush to pick up your belongings as Nick sits cross-legged on the ground, stunned and amused by the situation.

“Come on, Nicky,” you say, offering an extended hand to guide him back to your campsite. “I’ll put more aloe on your chest and you can have your birthday sex in private.”

His laugh and the way he excitedly follows behind you warms your cheeks.

Ultimately, you do leave the next day. You pack up your things and head out first thing, stopping all along the way home for sodas and ice creams and rides through nowhere towns. It’s enough to just spend time with him.

You do end up taking the rest of the week off, the remainder of his birthday week spent at home relaxing with your boy, like he deserves — like you both do, before he’s off again.

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underoospeterparker · 7 months

Note

finnick w/ a reader who ate something bad or has a tummy bug (yes I’m projecting) n just takes care of her really well. Like rubbing her back n holding her hair, n being all nice cause in the middle of the bloody hunger games is not a nice time to get sick to ur stomach :((

hope you feel better soon, anon!

finnick odair x fem!reader, set in catching fire, 0.5k words

warnings: description of throwing up, stomach ache

You vaguely heard them start to talk about a plan but all you could think about was the fish you had eaten earlier. It was raw, but you ate raw fish all the time back home. You started to feel slightly queasy but you tried to focus on what Beetee was saying.

"Here's what I propose," he said, his tone serious, and Finnick and Johanna turned to listen to what he was saying. "We leave the beach at dusk. We head to the lightning tree. That should draw them back to the beach."

Finnick's eyes met yours, and you must have looked really bad, because he moved to crouch in front of you. His eyes were worried as he assessed your face. "Is something wrong?"

You looked like you were about to burst into tears. "I don't know," you whined, quiet so as to not attract the others' attention. "I feel sick," you admitted. "Maybe it was the fish I ate earlier?"

His gaze grew understanding. "Maybe," he agreed, offering you a hand and pulling you up. You leaned against him gratefully. You felt the nausea start to rise and you pressed a hand to your mouth.

"Finnick," you whispered, and he knew what you needed. He pulled you to a tree out of view and you knelt down, bile spewing from your mouth and onto the bed of grass.

He stood behind you, rubbing diligently at your back, soothing sweeps up and down as he held your hair away from your face. "There you go," he murmured, "good job, sweetheart."

A stray hair fell in front of your face but he was quick to push it behind your ear. You lay in a heap at his feet, exhausted, eyes big and watery as you clung to him. Finnick looked like wanted to kill someone, but his touch softened when he stroked your hair.

"You okay to stand?" When he heard no response, he kneeled down on the ground with you, bringing his sleeve up to wipe the corner of your mouth. "Hey." Your eyes started to water and Finnick leaned down further to catch your wavering gaze. "Hey," he cooed, pressing you to his chest, "you're okay."

You let out a quiet whimper, tremors racking your frame as Finnick tried his best to hold you together. He gave you one last squeeze before pulling away to assess your face. "You feeling better?"

You gave him your best smile, the biggest you could manage at the moment. "A little. Thanks, Finn."

"You don't have to thank me, lovely girl," he watched adoringly as you stayed clutching to his leg like a leech, "I'll always be here."

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thoughtsfromlayla · 4 months

Text

A Pirate Quest For Me - Chapter One

Moodboard created by: @dragon-kazansky

Summary: Despite the "Kraken incident" you're back on your feet for a new adventure and rare treasure. The inconspicuous map calls for three items: a mermaid's tear, a bottle of lightning, and a dream crystal.

Notes: ~4.5k words, not edited/beta-read *squints as I read the script* Why am I in this story? Wait is this play about us???

Warnings/Tags: Merman! Dream, chaotic bisexual disaster pirate reader, Dream's terrible at communicating (nothing's new), some angst, *squints as I read the script further* I did what?

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The thick jungles of the Caribbean make it hard for you to read your map. You turn the old parchment one way and then the other as you try to make heads and tails of it all. Pulling out your compass you watch the needle point north, but is this north on the map? You scratch at your head, your head is still captain-hat-less after the whole Kraken debacle last month.

Ugh, why didn’t you bring your cartographer with you? Probably because she’d rather die than set foot in a jungle. And you respect that, at this point, you’re debating running for the high seas and never setting foot back in here again as well.

There are rarely any stinging bugs on a ship after all.

But the enticement of rare treasure is too much to ignore. The map was found in some empty barrel in Tortuga and promised the finder of treasure adventures for a lifetime. And, well, how can you pass up that?

The map calls for three items: a mermaid’s tear, a bottle of lightning, and a dream crystal. You have no idea which items you are currently hunting, but you follow the map loyally anyway.

Your long knife cuts through the brushes easily as you determinedly continue on your journey. The sweat you’ve accumulated is slick on the back of your neck. Eventually, you find yourself standing on the shores of a lagoon. You release a sigh of relief and plunge your hands into the waters, cooling yourself as you splash it against your face and neck.

A strong gust of wind blows your map into the water and you sigh. Why must nothing ever go to plan? You slowly wade into the waters, watching the fish dart away from your boots. Your map keeps drifting away as you make your way towards it.

When you finally get your hands on it, frowning at the smudging ink, a sound that’s not natural to the lagoon life around it catches your attention. The sound was definitely human: a soft humming of a lullaby came from somewhere in the lagoon. You looked around but there was nothing but blue waters and high mountains.

You wade your way back out of the lagoon, following onshore towards the sound of the humming. Eventually, you make it to a secluded place with a small waterfall, and after pushing aside a few long leaves, your breath stills as you look at the creature before you.

Her hair and tail were as blue as the lagoon, washing her hair in the cold waterfall that fed into the lagoon. Her ear fins shimmer in the low sun and twitch whenever water enters them. Her tail swings back and forth to the beat of her lullaby as she perches on the stone. The effervescent scales on her arms and torso give her a soft look as they reflect the fleeting sunlight.

You take a step forward and accidentally step on a twig. The sound is enough for the mermaid to turn her head towards you with a surprised look. She finds you easily behind the tree and her humming stops. She stops as fear takes over her body and stays still in shock.

“Hi, my name is Captain Fortune. I don’t want to harm you…” You start and slowly make your way towards her. Your hands are raised with the promise of peace.

Her eyes dart around your body and after landing on the pistol that was secured to your hip, she hisses at you and dives back into the waters. You see her blue tail splash the water into your face as she swims deeper into the cave connected to the lagoon. A few fish friends followed her in her actions.

You sigh and berate yourself for scaring her off. The sun dips behind the horizon and light leaves in the wake of night. You get to work, finding dry twigs to make a small campfire. It’s a miracle you were able to find a mermaid so soon, but it would be hard to get a tear from her no less.

Under moonlight and crackling flames, you entertain yourself by slowly singing some shanties to yourself. A small fish you managed to catch was roasting slowly over the flame, the scales chars against the heat. You’ve shed down to your shirt and pants, even decided to take off your boots and discard them off to the side with the rest of your objects.

“You… sing pretty,” A voice stops you.

You squint as you look towards the voice, and surprise takes over your face as you see the mermaid listening to you at the edge of the lagoon.

“Thank you,” You respond quietly in case she swims away again. “I’m sorry I scared you earlier.”

“It’s okay, I just don’t like… weapons.” She looks at you questioningly, eyes roaming your body for anything that may hurt her. “I am Layla,” She introduces herself to you as she rests her head over crossed arms.

“Can you sing some more, Captain?” Layla asks as she swims closer to you, beaching herself across from your campfire.

“My mother told me, someday I will buy…” You begin to sing as you examine her features. This was the first time you’ve ever seen a mermaid. “Galley with good oars, sail to distant shores.”

Her ear fins twitch as you continue to sing and she begins to harmonize with your song. Her arms had fins, and her fingers were webbed with sharp nails. It was hard to see in the low light, but you’re sure you made out gills across her ribs and on the sides of her neck.

“Where are your sisters?” You ask the mermaid when you are done with your song. Mermaids always traveled in groups, it's what made them so dangerous.

A forlorn look washes over Layla’s face. “I have left my sisters.”

You wait slowly for her to continue her story. She gathers herself with a deep breath, the gills opening and closing as she does so.

“We were being pursued by hunters. They had these… things, made of something colder than stone, harsher than the afternoon sun, one hit and I see my sisters die before me.” She recalls her memory. “A man, dressed in black, granted me a wish, to be safe from the hunters, but I didn’t realize he would bring me here, swept up in a storm and dropped off.”

A man dressed in black, she says. A certain Endless pops into your mind and it would not be something out of his power to do something like this.

You look around at the flickering shadows that dance due to the fire. You’re looking for a silhouette you’re all too familiar with. Is he fucking with you right now? You glare at a particular shadow that seems almost human but brush it off. “The man in black, what did he look like?”

“I’m not sure. He is pale, has black hair, and wears black clothes. The stars seem to be trapped in his eyes. I think I’ve seen him before, he is familiar, but each time I think of him the thoughts leave me like a dream.”

Yeah… that’s him alright. You think, sighing as a plan begins to form in your head. You lean back, resting your back on a smooth protruding rock.

“How long have you been stuck here?” You ask, slowly inching your way closer to the mermaid.

Layla looks towards the moon and thinks. “I have seen too many new moons to remember. Perhaps… 17?” Layla holds up all 10 of her webbed fingers and you raise a quizzical eyebrow.

“I don’t think you know how to count,” You think to yourself. “Can I ask something of you?”

Layla hums, a light, whimsical sound, and you continue. “Has anyone asked you for your tears before?” You ask slowly, unsure of how to proceed. You’ve only just met the mermaid a few hours ago, after all.

“Do you need a tear?” She asks.

You nod in response.

“Thank you for telling me the truth. I can give you my tears but it is difficult to procure one unless I feel like it. In which case, I am sorry to disappoint you. I have shed my tears long ago when I was imprisoned in this lagoon.” Layla gives you a shy smile and a shrug.

When she is met with your silence, she sighs and flops back into the water, her tail splashing water onto your fire. The water hisses as it comes in contact with the heat and adds steam to your face.

You wait for a few hours, hoping that Layla would resurface but steadily the moon rises higher and higher in the sky and you start to lose hope.

With one last look towards the lagoon cave, you redress yourself and extinguish the flames with sand. You retrace your steps back towards your ship, and dawn breaks when you see the beauty beached by the sea.

“‘Mornin’, Captain,” Your first mate greets you when you scale back up the ship.

“Good morning indeed. Wake up some of the crew and tell them to meet me on shore. We’ve got a mermaid to save,” You wave off your command as you make your way to the captain’s quarters.

“A mermaid?” The young sailor questions excitedly.

“Dear Theo, when I recruited you for my ship did I not guarantee you an adventure of a lifetime?” You look back at him with a smile.

“Yes, Captain Fortune, you did.”

“Then, by all means, get me the hands, and let’s save this mermaid!” You turn back around as you hear Theo’s skittering footsteps.

In your captain’s quarters you look around for something large enough to transport said mermaid. Your eyes land on a large glass display that has a miniature wooden model of your first ship, the one Dream’s Kraken so cheerfully destroyed. Carefully, you remove the model and place it gently on your desk instead.

If you tie a few sticks to extend the frame then you and your crew can hammock her back to open waters.

A small voice in the back of your head taps you on your shoulder. Should you be doing this? You know that Layla was sent to the lagoon by Dream and going against his doing is like sending yourself to the gallows with the noose already around your neck.

You hesitate for a moment. Just a singular moment.

Ah, well, what’s the worst that could happen? He kills you? Boooring, he’s tried that already and failed‒several times.

The sun is beating down on you and your selected crew when you return to land. You lead the way as they carry the sloshing glass crate full of seawater. You smack another bug away from your face with a huff of annoyance.

Soon enough, the lagoon comes into view and you look around with a hand over your eyes for the familiar blue you’ve come to recognize. Your crew sets down the heavy cradle with a groan and stands in the shade as they watch you waddle into the lagoon water.

“Layla?” You call out. Nothing. “Lady Layla of the Lagoon?” You sing out this time. The water ripples beneath you and you catch a glimpse of her tail. You follow it with your eyes until she pops up again.

“I like the new title,” She smiles at you and her ear fins twitch with giddy. “Who are they?” She asks as soon as she sees your entourage behind you, her smile dropping. Layla was tense, ready to dive back into the waters.

You stand between her and your crew, blocking her sight from them. “They’re with me, we didn’t bring weapons,” You say quickly.

She visibly relaxes at your words but leans her body to the side to take another look at them. “Then why are they here?”

“We’re here to take you home,” You say with a low voice, in case any non-human entities were listening in on your conversation. You turn to your crew once more and motion to them to come closer with the glass cradle. “It’s seawater, can I put you in it?” You ask Layla as you explain the simple plan to her.

She looks between you and the glass container, then back at you and nods. Words fail her as she reaches her arms towards you. She was heavier than you expected, the weight of her tail and the water that clung to her was not a part of your calculations.

Layla wraps her arms around your neck as you hoist her out of the waters. Her squirming made it harder to carry her, but the smile she had on her face made it all worth it. Her tail was, well, slimy wouldn’t be the right word to use. It was certainly slippery, but it ran smoothly against your bare forearms like silk from the ports of China.

When you get close enough to the glass tub, she leaps from your arms and settles in. Layla is still smiling and looks around with curiosity as the group begins to march towards the sea. Every now and then you would turn around and check on Layla. Her emotions were understandable, if you had to be landlocked for 17 months, you would go crazy as well. How you did so before your time as a pirate is still a mystery to you.

Your thoughts briefly go to where you used to call home, in a large mansion far away from the port. It was full of stuffy dresses and strict manners. What you could say, or couldn’t say, how you should treat others based on their rank, and how they would affect your family.

You think of your older brother who died serving the navy and how his death caused you to be the sole reason why your father ordered an arranged marriage for you. If not only to maintain your status as a noble lady of the state but also to secure you a future when he was no longer around.

What would he think of you now? Plundering the seven seas, being chased by a deity older than the sea goddess herself?

“What will you do first when you return to sea?” You ask Layla as a distraction.

“Find my sisters, of course,” She says. “Or find what remains of them. Either way, I will be home, and severely have I missed it.” Layla tilts her head to the sky and takes in a deep breath. “Can you smell the sea? That salty brine?” She squeals, flicking her tail excitedly, ignoring how the water splashes out of the tub.

The sun begins to dip by the time you’ve reached the beach, painting the water gold. You watch as the waves crash into each other, creating ripples and sparkles in the sea. The ocean looked like the surface of the rarest gem.

“Ready?” You ask Layla, resting your arms on the edge of the glass tub.

She nods once more and reaches out for you. You transport her into your arms once again, this time more prepared for the weight shift. Your footsteps grow heavy into the soft sand as you match towards the sea.

Layla’s ear fins shimmy against your cheek, tickling you as the two of you get closer to the sea. You wade into the water, the salty spray of the ocean sticking to your clothes and hair the deeper you went. When you were chest deep you lowered the mermaid into the waters.

Layla leaves your arms gracefully and sighs, taking a deep breath underwater as the salt filters through her gills. She does a few experimental circles around your feet, her colors grow into a deeper, more vibrant blue in her natural habitat. Layla resurfaces with a blue conch shell that was the same color as her fins. Her smile has yet to falter and only grows bigger by the minute.

“Have this,” She says as she hands you the iridescent shell. “Blow into it when you need my help. Even in your most perilous circumstances, I will hear it no matter where I am.” Her words begin to tremble on her lips.

Cautiously she reaches for your waist, grabbing at the small glass vile you had hanging on your leather belt. She brings the vile to the edge of her eyes and when she blinks, a tear falls slowly into the vile. It shines in the dusk light before she re-corks it, keeping it safe.

“This is the happiest day of my life, so really I must thank you for what you have done, Captain Fortune,” She whispers slowly as she carefully turns the vile in her webbed fingers.

She watches as her tear rolls around in the long tube before she hands it back to you. Your fingers linger over hers when she gives it back and you pull yourself closer to her.

“Thank you, Layla.” You bring your lips to her cheek and kiss her goodbye, tasting the salt on her skin. Layla hums at the warmth before she pulls away first.

She stays quiet for a moment, the two of you enjoying the small moment of peace. "What are your thoughts, Layla?" You probe.

“Whatever you may use my tear for, do so without guilt. It was given lovingly. I will never forget you.” She doesn’t wait for a response before she dives deeper into the sea. It’s not long before you see her jump out of the water, her hair and tail flying in the wind with a spray of water as a final goodbye.

The map changes a month after Layla’s departure, its scribbles and instructions mix and realign themselves for the next item. Though, you wished it didn’t considering the new instructions were nothing more than vague words and instructions.

“When the storm brews and the heavens roar, prepare your vessel of wood and of glass, forged in the heart of a dying star will you find the sizzle of light.” You reread the instructions with a frown. Your eyes scan the words over and over until you think you’ve forgotten how to read. You close the map with a sigh and stick it back in your pants pocket.

Despite the unforgiving temperature of the tropics, the tear never evaporates in your vile. Occasionally, like today, you would stare at the tear, watching it glimmer in the rising sun when the rest of the ship was asleep. Her lullaby haunts the back of your mind, the humming seeming to echo across the vastness of the calm ocean. The Dream King has yet to come for you for what you have done, something that you took as a good sign.

A rumble in the distance shakes you from your thoughts. You refasten the vile to your belt, next to where Layla’s conch shell rested. The wind picks up and whips your hair around like crazy tentacles. Approaching fast on the horizon were gray and angry storm clouds. Thunder booms and lightning cracks across the dark blanket of doom.

Your ship was ahead of it, for now. The smell of ozone and petrichor is strong in your nose as you turn and start ringing the bell to wake up your group of misfit miscreants.

“Lower the sails, let’s outrun this storm, Mr. Theo,” You told your first mate as you took to the wheel.

Theo repeats your orders to the awaiting crew below you and they begin to scramble about. The sails lower, their dark blue colors turning black in the absence of light. Doors were being shut and cannons tied to the ship.

The storm grows fast, and even with the help of the northern wind full in your sails, rainwater begins to belt down on you. Your blouse did little to protect your skin from the harsh raindrops. Still, you steered with shielded eyes. A few of your crew decided to go below deck, only you, Theo, and a few more daring pirates decided to stay above and help maintain the ship.

A large wave crashes into your ship, jolting the vessel relentlessly. For a moment, your fingers slip from the prongs along the wheel, but you’re quick to regain your feet and hands. The winds and waves leave you at the whims of Mother Nature. Each time you try to recourse your ship, the wheel resists you.

The storm was right above you now, ripping large gashes into your sails. It would be too dangerous to pull them up by now, you can only hope for the best. Lightning briefly cracks across the sky and gives light to your next issue.

Your ship starts to circle in the open sea and you realize with a dry throat that you were stuck in a whirlpool. No matter how much you try to shift course, the will of the sea did not listen to your commands.

“Shit! Fuck! Goddamn it!” You cuss all known cuss words under the sun and then some more.

Your cussing grows louder as the wheel splits off its pole and the last bit of your resistance is lost. Screams were heard around you as the wooden vessel flung straight into the vortex. Each person on your crew flashes behind your eyes as your body slams into the ship's walls. You’re trying to regain your breath, instead inhaling rainwater and you’re met with a coughing fit.

The prongs of Layla’s shell presses deeply into your back and a brief moment of clarity washes over you. Trying to keep your balance on waterlogged boots, you reach the rails of your ship. You pull off the blue shell and press it to your lips.

You blow, hard and long, feeling the low hum vibrating across the shell. You blow again, the thought of blue fins and a mother’s lullaby on your mind. You wish for the safe passage of you and your crew back into calm seas. You wish for Layla.

Another sharp jolt and your wet fingers drop the shell. You cuss again over the raging winds as you bend over to pick it up. One more blow into the shell wouldn’t hurt. Before your fingers could wrap around the shell, the ship tips and you fall into the open sea.

“Theo!” You scream as your arms flail around you, trying to grab at anything and everything that could help you.

Your fingers wrap around a stray rope, the twine burning through your skin as you continue to fall. The rain leaves you gripless and even your desperate cry isn’t enough to hold on.

Falling into rough seas is as good as falling onto wooden floors. When you hit the waters, the air is knocked out of you once more. You’re barely grasping at the concept of consciousness as you’re submitted to the commands of the tides.

A familiar flash of serene blue crosses your vision and hands grab at your arms.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Layla sobs out near your ear.

She takes a look over her shoulder, but in your losing war with consciousness, you don’t pay much attention. Her powerful tail swims you towards the surface where air fills your lungs immediately.

Layla swims back underwater before you can thank her. You look around in the storm for your ship or a piece of it to cling onto but all you’re met with is another crashing wave. Sea water enters your nose, the sharpness hits you in the back of the head and you gasp at the intrusion. Water then enters your mouth and you accidentally gulp it down in a growing desperation to breathe. The relentless sea gives you no time to do so as another wave crashes into your body and back underwater you go.

You brave your eyes open, feeling your body being tugged by the whirlpool. You search for her, for your mermaid, and only find her trying to swim along the currents of the ongoing storm. Something black streaks across your vision and you watch it as it catches up to to Layla. The two swim in circles, the whirlpool growing stronger as the two mercreatures chase each other.

You squint in the low visibility of the water and a familiar pale body and slicked-back black hair meets you. He pauses his chase for a moment, sensing your stare at him and he looks back. Dream’s eyes are gone, and in its place a void of black. He frowns when he sees you, his tail flicking in annoyance at your interruption.

Dream closes his eyes and you see his gills take in a deep breath before he returns to chasing after Layla. You watch helplessly as his arms ensnare around her waist. She fights back with the last of her strength, but having used most of it helping you and swimming away from your aforementioned “lover”, she loses the battle quickly.

Dream keeps her in his arms as he dives deeper into the ocean, his black tail disappearing into the depths. The only indication was the small lights that decorated the fins, much like the bioluminescent light you would find on caught anglerfish. You stay for a second longer, your lungs screaming at you for air, but a part of you hopes that you may see the familiar blue come to you again.

The whirlpool calms and with defeat you swim towards the surface. You’re about to break the surface when hands wrap themselves around you. You briefly feel the silkiness of scales against your skin before you’re launched into the air. The force behind the tail gives you enough air for the two of you to land on your ship.

You cough, water sloughing off your figure like raindrops. The sky had cleared and the sea was calm again, as if nothing just happened.

“Layla?” You call out, coughing out the last remnants of seawater from your lungs.

“No.” Came your simple answer.

You turn quickly and meet Dream’s eyes. He’s still in his merman form, sitting on the railing of your ship. Realizing comes to you too quickly and you pathetically search his face for any form of remorse for what he had done.

“Where is she?” You ask. You feel rage starting to bubble to the surface. Your crew was nowhere to be seen, either hiding under deck or lost to the storm.

“Gone,” Dream answers simply.

Dream watches as you look around the ship for something. In an attempt to prove his point, he moves his tail, revealing to you what you need to see. Not what you wanted, he knew what you wanted, but you needed to understand the truth, now.

You’re searching for blue and when Dream moves his tail over, the bioluminescent lights along his fins dim in the sun. His tail was beautiful and a part of you would’ve loved to have admired it, but that familiar blue catches your eyes.

There was so much blue, shattered and broken into pieces.

You fall to your knees as you scoop up the shattered pieces of Layla’s shell. Your hand curls into fists as you bring it closer to your chest. The pieces cut into your skin and blue mixes with bright red.

Staring at the mosaic of colors, you're reluctant to let go. To let go of the shell is to let go of her. To let go of the pain is to accept the grief that is to come with her death.

“She’s gone.” It wasn’t a question, it was realization.

You look at Dream with slightly teary eyes and he doesn’t bother with a response. He gives you one last look before falling backward, diving back into the depths of the ocean.

♡ Goodbye, Layla

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#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #the sandman fanfic #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader #pirate au #mermaid au #dream the endless #a pirate queen for me #merman dream brainrot is real

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arlana-likes-to-write · 7 months

Text

Lightning Bug - Chapter 28

Masterlist

Warnings: usage of a gun (training), fluff, mention of past trauma

Word Count: 3.8k

You tightened the straps on your backpack as you waited for Natasha and Wanda. There was a knot forming in your stomach. They were excited to meet you, but what if you disappointed them? What if they weren’t happy with who you are? “Hey,” Wanda placed her hands on her shoulders. “Breath. Take a few deep breaths for me.” You nodded and did that. “Good,” you turned to face her. “What’s going through your head?” You sighed, biting your lip. “What’s going through your head?” You sighed, biting your head.

“What if they don’t like me?” You whispered. It seemed ridiculous to say out loud. “I’m a little nervous.” Wanda nodded.

“I was too when I first met them,” she pushed some of your hair behind your ear. “They will love you. Just be you.”

“And take everything Alexei says with a grain of salt,” Natasha rushed over to you as the doors opened and the ramp came out. Natasha told you they had to part the jet a little further away from the house because Melina doesn’t want the jet’s engine to scare the animals. You descended the ramp and hoped the walk would calm your anxiety, but it became worse. Each step you took made your heart pound faster and faster.

The property remained you of the Barton’s homestead but more rustic. There was a main house with multiple outdoor buildings. As you got closer, you could smell and hear the pigs. “There they are!” A booming voice echoed through the quiet land. It came from a man with a thick beard wearing overalls.

“Yebat’ (fuck),” Natasha mumbled and pushed you behind her. Your body tensed up as you watched the man run over to the three of you. “Alexei, no,” Natasha warned.

“Natalia, my pride and joy,” he looked at Wanda. “Wanda, hopefully, my soon-to-be daughter-in-law,” you saw the couple in front of you tense up. “Move. I’d like to see moya vnucka (my granddaughter).” You weren’t sure what that word was.

“Not with that energy,” Wanda said. “Bring it down a little, or you’ll scare her off.” The man gasped.

“I would never! I’m her dedushka (grandpa). We are destined to be side by side like in American movies,” you peeked your head from behind the couple and saw a woman walking out of the house. Her black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her arms were crossed against her chest. Suddenly, the man’s face was in front of yours.

“Hi,” he said. You yelped and fell to the ground, startled by his sudden appearance. “You’re so small.” He pushed past the couple and grabbed you by the arms, lifting you like you weighed nothing. “I could put you in my pocket.” The man hugged you tight. “I am your dedushka (grandpa). I can not wait to tell you all about my glory days.” The man swayed you from side to side, and your body went tense, frozen. Even Wanda and Natasha’s voice turned to white noise. You felt a pressure building that started in your chest. You had to hold it in; the charge would kill the man holding you.

“Alexei, vinz (down),” a new voice broke through the fog. “She is not a toy.” The man gently set you down, and you were shaky on your legs. The man looked apologetic, scratching the back of his head. You were sure Natasha was asking if you were okay, but your eyes stayed trained on the newest addition to the group. She grabbed hold of your chin, moving your head from side to side. “Alexei’s right. You are too small. Is Natalia not feeding you?”

“Mama,” the read head groaned. “She’s eating.”

“Not enough. Come, I’ll cook you something,” she dragged you towards the house, but you dug your feet into the ground.

“Wait,” your voice shook, and everyone’s eyes trained on you. “I need,” air couldn’t get into your lungs. “Nat,” you gasped. “Help.” Quickly, she opened her bag and pulled out a battery. She placed it in your hands and knelt in front of you. You wanted to yell at her to get back. To run because you were afraid to hurt her, but the words died on your lips. She sensed your hesitation.

“I got you, molniyenosnyy zhuk (lightning bug). Let go,” You slumped against Natasha, and her arms wrapped around you. “That was a big one. Take a minute, okay,” you nodded and focused on Natasha’s hand, rubbing circles on your back.

“Did I hurt anyone?” You whispered.

“No, Wanda pushed Melina and Alexei back with her powers.” Good. That was good. You stood up straighter and saw Natasha smiling at you. She pushed a few strands of your hair stuck to your forehead from sweat. You felt hot and hungry.

“Hi,” Wanda stood next to you, and you rested your head on her chest. “How are you feeling?” You huffed.

“Better,” you admitted. “Sorry, that was embarrassing.”

“I think someone else should apologize,” you turned around to see the duo walk back to you. The woman hit Alexei.

“Sorry about that. I was excited to meet you.” The man’s cheeks were flushed.

“It’s okay,” you smiled. “Hi, by the way.” you waved.

“Melina, Alexei,” Natasha placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “This is Y/n, our daughter,” your stomach flipped at that. You loved having someone be proud enough of you to call you their daughter.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Melina smiled. “We’ve heard great things about you,” her eyes pointed at you. “I still think you are too small.”

“Mama!”

“They are so cute!” You stood on the wooden pen for the pigs and watched Alexei chase after the piglets. They wanted nothing to do with him. Natasha laughed.

“Come on, Red Guardian! Didn’t you fight Captain America and win? Catching a pig for your vnucka (granddaughter),” you giggled and watched the man’s face twist with determination. You learned vnucka, which is translated to granddaughter, and the Russian words for grandma and grandpa are dedushka and babushka. Alexei was adamant about you calling him Dedushka. Melina shoved three bowls of chowder before she thought you were ready to explore.

“I got one!” A pig was pushed into your arms, and Natasha had to catch you before you fell off the fence.

“Alexei! What have I told you about manhandling my pigs?” You heard Melina call out and missed the murderous glare Natasha sent Alexei, too distracted by the little pig in your arms. It took a while for the creature to settle in your arms, but soon it pushed against your chest for warmth.

“It’s so tiny,” you whispered, so afraid to disturb the little creature in your arms. A weird feeling bloomed in your chest. It was strange how much faith the animal had in you. The pig trusted you to hold it close and protect it. Such blind faith. It was a little ridiculous, but it reminded you of yourself. You put faith in your parents and the man from HYDRA who promised you a better life. Now you were doing it with the Avengers. Was it wise to do it again? The third time is the charm, right? “What’s got you thinking so hard?” Natasha asked, running her hand over your head. You glanced up. She was smiling. Her eyes sparkled with love; sometimes, you forgot how much she cared about you. You smiled.

“Just, uh, thinking about life,” she chuckled, kissing your forehead. You basked in the warmth she provided.

“Never change, dorogoy (sweetheart),” you looked at her confused. “After everything you’ve been through, your heart is still good.” You frowned, unsure if that was true. You protected the pig with one hand as you climbed over the pen and placed the animal on the ground. It looked confused, turned to face, and ran to bury itself between your legs. You chuckled, pushing the creature towards its family. However, the piglet ran back to you.

“What’s going on, little one?” You asked, scratching its chin. “Why don’t you want to join your friends?”

“It’s the runt,” Melina said. You glanced over at her. “The others pick on it.” You frowned and sat down. The piglet climbed onto your lap and looked up at you.

“I was a runt, too,” you spoke softly. Your hand never stopped petting it. “I think we grow up to be the strongest of the group because we have to fight every single day just to survive,” you sighed. “And that can be scary, but I promise little one, everything will turn out just fine.” You felt a little crazy speaking to an animal, but the little pig seemed to understand. It glanced at the other pigs and back to you before joining them. You smiled and stood up. Wanda and Natasha were watching you with a smile. Yeah, everything was turning out just fine.

It was a long day. With the emotional trip to Sokovia and the surprise display of power, Wanda and Y/n were taking a nap before dinner. Alexei was outside finishing the chores he promised Melina that would be done, but due to the excitement, they slipped his mind. So Natasha was left to help prepare dinner with Melina. Sometimes, Natasha had to pinch herself to remind herself this was real. That the woman chose to be here, decided to be her mother, and that the Red Room wasn’t orchestrating this. It’s not another mission. This was real. It took a while for her to trust Melina and Alexei again. Yelena was the critical factor to help mend the relationship. She knew it was Yelena’s desperate attempt to have a real family. “It looks good on you,” Melina said, standing over the sauce for the beef stroganoff. Natasha hummed in question, focusing on chopping up the spices. “Motherhood. You fall into the role naturally.”

“You sound surprised,” she glanced over her shoulder, but Melina’s back was to her.

“Not surprised at all. You are a khameleon (chameleon). You adapt. It was like that in Ohio, the Red Room, and now with the Avengers,” Natasha wasn’t sure if what Melina said was a compliment. She turned to face the older Black Widow, and Melina looked at her. “Why do you look offended?”

“I’m not sure if I should take what you said as a compliment.”

“No?” She tilted her head. “You were always sensitive to that.” Melina walked over to the cutting board she was using and took it back to the pot. “I was trying to say it’s hard for us to be mothers, people like you and me.”

“Why is it hard?” She saw Melina’s stutter as she added the freshly chopped herbs into the pot.

“Because that choice was taken away from us,” Subconsciously, Natasha placed her hand where her scar was. The serum healed all of it, but she would never forget where it was. She dropped her hand when Melina turned back around to hand her the cutting board. “But you are doing good. Does that happen often with her powers?” Natasha shook her head.

“Not since she started training with Maria,” Natasha began cleaning the dishes she no longer needed. The farmhouse needed to be equipped with a dishwasher; she preferred to do it by hand. It kept her busy.

“Is she training to be an Avenger?”

“No, I mean she could join the team if she wants, but we are focusing on helping her control her powers,” Or help her fight this new threat that was possibly coming. She would have a long chat with Vision when she got back.

“Are you and Wanda going to have more children?” Natasha felt her cheeks warm up. “I would like to have more grandchildren to spoil.”

“Mama! We just adopted her. Give us some time.” Melina chuckled and wiped her hands on a dish towel. The gentle hand of Melina on her shoulder caused Natasha’s body to go rigid, but she turned around to face her. The woman places both hands on her cheeks.

“Throughout our entire life, every choice was made for us,” her voice was so soft Natasha had to remind herself who was speaking to her. “But you chose to be that little girl’s mama, and being a mother is the greatest gift. Cherish it.” It was hard for Natasha to look past the betrayal towards Alexei and Melina. Melina was the only mother she knew since the Red Room took her biological one away. Melina was part of the system that kept hundreds of girls trapped even when she was trapped herself.

The sudden moment was interpreted by the crack of a gun going off; the duo separated immediately. “There is a pistol in the umbrella holder by the back door,” Melina said suddenly. She nodded and raced to where Melina told her. It wasn’t surprising to her that weapons were scattered around the house. Once her hand came into contact with the metal, she remembered to take a few calming breaths. The list of enemies was long and still growing. No matter who was here, no one was taking her family from her.

She kicked the back door open and expected to see the backyard filled with enemies racing towards the house or Alexei fighting them off. No. Instead, she saw Alexei and Y/n at the gun range for Widows that stayed on the farm. There was a pistol in the teen’s hand, and the gun going off two more times caused goosebumps to form on her arm.

“Alexei, what the fuck are you doing?”

You spun around to see two very angry Black Widows armed with a pistol and a rifle. Safety placed the gun down like Alexei and Maria showed you, and you ran over to Natasha. “Nat, come look!” It was enough time for her to hand the pistol to Melina before you dragged her over to the makeshift gun range. “Look how well I did!” You were proud of your grouping: two head shots and two in the shot. You looked back at Natasha and your smile. “You look upset.”

“Of course I’m upset. Melina and I thought we were being attacked,” you cringed and glanced at Melina and Alexei. The older woman was radially speaking in Russian and heard the word ‘idiot’ a few times. Suddenly, the back door of the house busted open. Wanda’s eyes were glowing red, and her magic danced on her fingers. It died down when she saw her family and no threat.

“Oh, I’m in so much trouble.” Natasha grabbed your arm and dragged you back over.

“Explain, both of you,” Melina said when Wanda jogged over. You and Alexei shared a look.

“I woke up and heard you and Natasha talking in the kitchen,” you said slowly. “I went outside to explore, and Alexei, I mean dedushka,” you saw his smile from the corner of your eye. “Saw me walking around the training area. He said you made it for the Widows that sometimes stay here,” you knew it had to do with some rehabilitation program Yelena set up, but the details were fuzzy. It took a lot of work to follow any story Alexei told. “I asked him if he could teach me how to shoot a gun.” The two Black Widows said something in Russian that was not part of your daily language lesson, but Alexei cringed. Natasha stared down the man.

“And you thought it was a good idea.”

“Her mama, babushka, and tetya (aunt) are all Black Widows. She should know her way around a gun,” it was a fair agreement to make. “She gave me very good-” he snapped his fingers. “What’s the word? When the eyes get small and sad?”

“Puppy dog eyes,” Wanda said with a smirk. Alexei pointed at the witch. “She tends to use them to get something she wants,” you opened your mouth to argue, but the witch gave you a pointed look. You thought it was best to keep your mouth shut. “I was unaware you had any form of gun training.” She said to Alexei, who gasped in offense.

“I will have you know the Red Guardian is well-versed in many weapons. Guns, knives, rocket launcher,” your eyes widened, and you looked at him, excitement bubbling in your chest. “No!” He shot you down. “Do you see how much trouble we are in?” You slowly looked back at the trio.

“On a scale of 1 -10, how much trouble am I in?” You asked, staring at the ground, unable to look at the three women. Natasha sighed.

“You will be doing dishes for the rest of our trip,” you nodded. That was fair. Gently, Natasha lifted your head, and you stared into her green eyes. “No more weapon training without telling us.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, but the redhead kissed your forehead and hugged you. She smelt of garlic and onions.

“Scared the hell out of me, kid,” you nodded again. It wasn’t your intention, and you weren’t thinking when you asked Alexei. You felt tears form at the corner of your eyes, and she needed the hug far too soon for your liking. “Let’s see this grouping again.”

“What?” You questioned. Natasha pushed away a tear that escaped down your cheek.

“I’d like to see you shoot again. Make sure Alexei taught you correctly,” the man gasped, and it made you laugh. Before you picked up the gun, you apologized to Melina and hugged Wanda. With the short time you held a gun in your hand and shot it, it wasn’t your preferred weapon. However, with so many Black Widows in your life, you were going to keep that information to yourself.

Once the dishes were cleaned from dinner, it was another early night, but you could not sleep. Your sleep schedule was messed up with the time difference and the nap you took. So you got out of bed and walked out of the guest room. Melina had a bookshelf next to the dining room that you’ve been dying to look through. Many of the books in her collection were not in English, but you could tell they were science books. Your eyes found a photo album. Curiosity, you grabbed the album and flipped through it. Every photo was of two young girls: one blonde and one brunette. The images captured moments from Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving. “It’s not a good idea to snoop in a Black Widow’s home,” you jumped at Melina’s voice, almost dropping the album.

“It’s also not a good idea to sneak up on someone.” The Black Widow chuckled, and you put the album away, but Melina grabbed it and walked over to the dining room table. Wordlessly, you followed her and sat down.

“Do you know how I became Natalie’s and Yelena’s mama?”

“Kind of. Yelena said a mission brought all of you together.” Melina nodded; the photo album was stopped on Christmas. “I didn’t ask specifics.”

“The Red Room needed agents to act as an American family to steal some classified information,” she traced the faces of each little girl. “When the mission was over, we gave them back.”

“Why are you telling me this?” You questioned. Melina closed the album and placed her hands on top of it. She was staring intently at you, and you felt small under her gaze.

“I wasn’t the mother my girls needed,” you frowned and took her hand. You flipped it over so you could trace the lines on her palm. Her facial expressions softened at the gesture.

“Are you the mother they deserve now?”

“I do not know,” she admitted. “But I’m trying to be. Not all of us get the chance to get two,” you understood that. You were lucky that you overslept that day, which landed you in the cafe simultaneously. If you were there at your regular time, you could still be living on the streets or bouncing between shelters. What a crazy what-if. “Never take it for granted.”

“I won’t,” you promised. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay them.” Melina smiled softly.

“Love them as much as they love you,” the Black Widow said. “That will be more than enough.”

You were up early to help Melina work outside with the pigs and her small garden. It was hard work, but Melina filled it with stories of their time in Ohio. Even Wanda brought out breakfast and helped out. You told her that the dishes would get done after you helped Melina. You sat back on your knees and stretched your neck. Picking weeds out of the dirt was not your idea of a fun time, but it beat cleaning the pig pen or doing the dishes. The sun felt different out here compared to Iowa and New York. You liked it, and it made you think about what Natasha asked you about - living somewhere like this. Away from the hustle and bustle of the big city. A place where you could get your dog and have them run around the backyard. It was a good idea, maybe one day. “Mama, are you overworking my niece already?” Your head wiped towards the voice. Yelena and Kate were talking in the garden. You jumped to your feet and ran over to them. The couple caught you as you threw yourself at them.

“I didn’t know you were coming to visit!” You smiled.

“That’s because it was a surprise, bud.” Kate laughed.

“Did you think I would subject you to a full day of Alexei’s torment without me?” You giggled. “I heard you got into a little trouble.” You awkwardly shrugged. “Proud of you.”

“Yelena, do not corrupt my granddaughter,” the older Black Widow came over to greet the newcomers. “Kate, how are you? Is Yelena treating you well?” The archer blushed.

“Yes, Melina. I’m doing great.” The blonde’s mouth hung open slightly.

“Come, I’ll make you something.” Melina put her arm around Kate and led her to the house. “Yelena, close your mouth. You’ll eat a fly.” You used your pointer finger to close her mouth, and she slapped your hand away.

“Unbelievable,” Yelena said once her girlfriend and mother were out of earshot. “She likes the people we bring home more than her daughters.” You smiled and lopped your arms through hers. “How do you like Russia?” She asked as you both walked towards the house.

“I like it!” You said. It was the truth. “Just different than Iowa and the city.” Yelena hummed in agreement.

“It took me a while to learn that the differences we see make for a wonderful world.”

taglist: @aestruvx, @toouncreativeforausername, @modedddd, @julilamoment, @mythixmagic, @yourmamacom, @vicmc624, @cherlenovix, @liliesandrosies, @whitewidowsbite, @clintsbigtoe, @blackbirdv98 @arualdcg@yoyo-w @natbelovasblog, @johnnyhulu, @blackwidow-3, @theenglishswiftie, @faith-olsen

#lightning bug #wandanat x reader #wandanat x you #wandanat x daughter!reader #wandanat x y/n #wandanat #bishlova #melina vostokoff #alexei shostakov

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violettduchess · 1 month

Note

Ahh, could I request Matthias with “I grew up on a farm” or “Use me”? Or whatever you feel like! 🙏❤️

A/N: In honor of his birthday today, here is your request anon!

Making such a proper character into a country boy wasn't easy until I found a way to connect the prompt "I Grew Up on a Farm" with Matthias's pride in Achroite.

Modern Country AU, Matthias x Reader

Entry for @candied-boys Country Radio CC

WC: 1.2k

The high-rise buildings of your city glisten with the reflection of a thousand neon lights. They flaunt the reds and pinks and yellows like fashionistas on a runway. Far below, the cars drive, resembling little lightning bugs, their bright, white headlights guiding them along the road to their destinations. The sky above is a gray mass of clouds, blanched and ubiquitous. The night's starlight has no chance against the blinding glow of the city and when it is visible, the moon is only a pale shadow of herself, like a copy made too many times.

Matthias is standing on the balcony of your small apartment, leaning on the railing. His strong hands curl around the cool metal, broad shoulders slumped forward. Slipping his hoodie over your thin nightgown, you step outside and join him. The sounds of the city that never sleeps greets you, a familiar song that has accompanied your nights since you were young.

You wrap your arms around him from behind. Feeling you hug him brings a tenuous smile to his lips and he places his hands over yours, holding you there, a silent plea to not let go. Your head falls forward to rest against his broad back and you breathe in the scent of him, cool and crisp and clean. It reminds you of snow-capped mountains, of winter’s first kiss, of a lake frozen over, diamond-like and dazzling in the pale December sun.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

His exhale is heavy. It courses through his body, dragging the weight of his tangled emotions with it. They feel like chains around his heart, fetters that tighten with every beat.

“Hey....”

Your voice sharpens with concern as you let go and move so that you can see him. His noble face, the one you tease him about and say looks like a fairy tale prince, is shadowed by something that dampens the soft gray of his eyes, pulls down the corners of his handsome mouth. “Matthias?”

He hesitates and your stomach twists. Something is definitely wrong.

He touches his forehead, frowning, as if willing the thoughts to find the way out of his mind. “This may sound silly. I’m not a child but...” His voice sounds tight, wound with the fear of what may happen when he gives his thoughts life. “I....I miss home.”

You step back, away from him.

His gaze is pleading, heartbreakingly sad. “I know I said I would try. For us. I know your life is here and I thought I would manage. But darling....” His voice breaks on the word and he has to take a moment to regain control. “Darling, I am not made for this place.” He gestures towards the city, now behind him. “I miss the mountains. And the Achroite ranch. The people.” He sinks down onto the chair in the corner of the balcony, his tall body folding like a demolitioned building. “And I’m selfish for it, I know. I promised you. And yet.....” He runs a hand through his short, blond hair. “I can’t....be truly happy here.” Anguished he looks up at you, expecting to see the betrayal written in your expression, hurt shining in your eyes.

Instead what he sees is something softer, something gentle.

Carefully you cross the small balcony to where he is sitting on the plastic folding chair and reach for him, dropping down onto his lap, knowing from experience the little chair is mighty enough to hold you both. He watches you closely, brows knit in a frown, but he wraps his strong arms around you, almost hesitantly.

Reaching up, you cup his cheek. “I know.”

“You do?”

For a man so intelligent he could be so dense.

You nod, running your thumb over his chin, a gesture familiar and loving. “The minute we left the ranch it was like your glow was slowly fading, a little every day. And I wanted to believe I could be enough to keep it alight. I thought if I could do that, your decision to return with the crazy tourist from the big city who wanted a dude ranch experience and got so much more wouldn’t turn into the biggest regret of your life–”

He hugs you to him tightly, shaking his head as he buries his face in your shoulder. “No, not possible.”

Gently you lift his head so you can look into his eyes. “You love me. I know you do. But you don’t love it here. And so this, here,.....it won’t work.”

The storm breaks in the gray of his gaze. He closes his eyes, fighting back the flood that is breaking his heart and drowning its pieces.

“Which is why we have to leave ‘here’....and go....” Your palm rests against his heart. “Where this is.”

Tears shine like raindrops in the sun when he opens his eyes again, disbelieving.

“What?” It’s a whisper, a prayer in the wind.

“I could never be happy seeing you this way, so far from that place that is in every heartbeat, in every shadow of your thoughts.” You hold his gaze as you speak the words that have been written on your heart for some time now. “ I fell in love with the man with the wide smile who showed me the mountains at sunrise, who shows the same consideration to everyone, from the boy who mucks the stables to the mayor of the town. The one who took me for long rides through the hills and showed me the pond where he learned to swim, the tree he fell from and broke his arm.” You smile, stroking his cheek. “I want that Matthias back and I think the only way I can find him is to bring him back to the land he loves....and if he’ll have me, join him there.”

“Are you sure?” The words are tremulous, restrained. “I couldn’t ask you to leave the city if it would make you miserable. I couldn’t put you through-“

“Screw the city. It was never that great anyway.” Your forehead touches his, your hands cradle his face. “I didn’t grow up feeling like you did. Like this place is a piece of me. What I do know.....is wherever you go, that’s home. To the mountains, to the moon. I don’t care. All I need is you.”

His words are barely audible. “But we came back here because of your job....you didn’t want to give it up. I would never ask you to do that.”

“I know you wouldn’t. And that’s why I am doing it voluntarily.” You lean back and there is nothing but warmth in your heart. “A ranch like yours always needs some extra hands, right? And I’m sure you can teach me.”

“You’re sure?”

There is not a single spark of hesitation in your answer. “Yes.”

“Truly?”

“Matthias!”

Relief like a river rushes through him and he can only stare in awe at you, the brightest sun in his sky. “I love you.”

You don’t reply with words. Instead you lean forward and kiss him, an answer, a testament to a love as bright and endless as the Western sky.

Taglist: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage

@tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia

@wendolrea @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody

@whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine

@mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @starlitmanor-network @sh0jun @queen-dahlia

@themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri matthias #ikemen matthias #matthias asbrink #ikepri matias #ikemen matias #matias asbrink #country au #modern au #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites #CountryRadioCC

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wifeofnatasharomanoff · 1 year

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Strawberries & Hail

Series Masterlist

WARNINGS: pregnant!reader, fluff, they make out for like a minute, flirty nat and reader ofc

WORDS: 1,161

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

A/N: flashback for Say Yes To Me when reader was pregnant with Alex

checking in on my loves, have you been getting any rest? please take care of yourselves, ilysm <3

It was a bit late out as you were waiting for Natasha to come back home with the snacks you ever so kindly requested her to get you. After all, she had to listen since you were her wife and you were carrying her child. Plus the pregnancy cravings finally got to you, as you were a just few months pregnant with your son. Everything was so happy the day you told Natasha that you were expecting, she bought a new house away from the city and away from anything that could harm you or the baby. It was an average, cozy little home in the middle of a field.

Yelena and your in-laws would visit from time to time, Melina would usually bring an unnecessary amount of baby clothes, and Alexei would get a bunch of toy cars, while Natasha's younger sister would raid the fridge and pantry. Although it would get lonely at times, it was rather beautiful at night, sometimes you and Natasha would go outside just to look at the shimmering stars. Her head in your lap and your hands running through her gorgeous red hair.

“Detka I'm home!” the ruffling sounds of grocery bags and the front door closing, pull you out of your thoughts. “Natasha! What took you so long?” you walked over to her and placed a little kiss on her cheek. “I'm sorry I took long, the first place was out of strawberries.” you smile at her, “It's okay! Do you need help bringing the bags in the kitchen darling?” she shook her head, grabbing a hold of all the groceries with her strength.

You smirk, placing a hand on her bicep. “Oh, what would I have ever done if my wife didn't have such delicious muscles?” she chuckled, dropping down the plastic bags on the kitchen counter. “How did you think you got pregnant in the first place?” you gasp, lightly smacking her arm. “Nat!” she winks over at you, “Just the truth moya lyubov.” you definitely didn't deny it, that's for sure.

“Did you bring the cheese?” she nods, “Yeah, not quite sure what you'd do with that but–” you took out the cheese and ate it with a piece of chocolate. “Oh uh– never mind then.” you innocently look over at her, “What? The baby thinks it's good. Try it.” she shakes her head, “No thanks, I bought it for you babe.” you shrugged. “More for me and the baby, I guess.”

“Where did you put the strawberries?” she took them out of the fridge and handed the box to you. “Wash them before you eat it. Ever since I saw that strawberry bug video that Laura sent me I've been worried. I don't want you eating unwashed fruit and getting you or the baby sick or hurt in any way.” you put a few in a bowl, “Okay daddy.” you said before washing the berries at the sink. She walked over to you and rested her chin on your shoulder as you were cleaning the strawberries off. “Hey.” you smiled when you felt a soft pair of lips on your neck. “Hi Natty.” her light kisses traveled down to your collarbone. “..do you want a strawberry too?”

She shook her head, letting go of you. “Is it gonna rain today?” you ask her, glancing over at the window. The sky was dark, but cloudy. In some moments there seemed to be lightning in the sky and the trees in the distance were moving back and forth due to the wind. “hm.. I'm not quite sure baby, you want me to check?” you think about her question for a few seconds. “No, it's fine!” you sat down next to her on the couch, plopping a strawberry in your mouth.

“Isn't Nathan so adorable?” you ‘aww’ at the phone screen, and show your wife the picture that Laura just sent you. “Fat.” you send her a questioning look before laughing. “But I like fat babies. I hope our little boy is chubby.” you say, while resting your head on the redhead's shoulder.

Loud booming noises erupt from the sky, you just assume it's thunder and don't question about it. “How many kids would you ever want krasivaya?” you pondered the question for a bit, “I.. would wanna try for a girl at least.” she smiles, holding you close to her. “Did you know that you're hot pregnant?” she asked. “Yep. Moment ruined.” she chuckled, softly pressing a kiss to your plump lips. “Is the moment back?” she murmured against your mouth. You smiled, “Maybe..” you mumbled, burying your hands in her hair to deepen the kiss.

She picked you up on her lap. “I'm not hurting you am I?” you press up against her, “mm.. just shut up and kiss me Romanoff.” as this was going on, the thunder got louder by the second. She brings a hand to your waist, slipping her tongue into your mouth. “mmh– Natty what's that noise?” you pull away from her and look up at the ceiling. “Is it coming from the roof?” she asks, keeping her hand on your thigh. You get up from her lap and quickly make your way over to the front door, and open it. “woah.. Tasha come over here.”

She walks up to the door, wrapping her arm over your shoulder. “It's hailed in New York, but never here..” you sigh into her hold, “It's raining too. ha! I was right.” she presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, you were right baby.” you lean your head against her chest, watching the small pieces of ice fall from the sky and onto the ground.

“Can I eat one?” she furrowed her brows and looked down at you. “No.” you pout, “Why nottt?” she sighed. “Detka, it's ice dropping from the air and falling onto the ground, no.” a cold breeze passes by, making you shiver. “I wanna eat sky iceee. I'm pregnant with your baby, listen to me.” you whined, complaining about the fact that she didn't want you eating dirty ice while you were pregnant.

“It's cold. I'm going back inside.” you get out of her arms and walk back inside the house. “Babe!” she follows after you and walks inside your bedroom. “Moya lyubov, if I get you the ice from outside, then wash it. Would you be happy?” the corners of your lips curl up into a smile. “Please?” she chuckled, pulling you into her strong hold once again.

“I love you so much detka.” you pull away from her and peck her lips briefly. “hmm.. that's impossible because I love you more.” she shook her head, “Nope. No, we are not starting this again. I'll go get you your ‘sky ice’.” you giggled. “I love you Natty!” you call out to her as she walks out of the room.

Sometimes she wished things could go back to normal, but that can't happen. Can it?

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha marvel

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emotionallyattachednerd · 1 year

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Firefly | RotB Bumblebee x f!human reader | NSFW 18+

Word count: 1200+

Warnings: Smut ( size difference ) and human on top of her bug. NSFW 18+.

Notes: Bumblebee is my favourite autobot. Trying to keep my requests within 1000+ just so I don't get too carried away or burn myself out too much. So far so good I think, maybe. Lets see how I go with the others. Thanks for sending in @lemon-and-lime-hq. Enjoy. 🥰

I found this very useful and I highly recconmend to check it out. They have done amazing and useful work. ❤️

☕ Coffee

"Bee! Look at them all! An't they just beautiful?" You beam brightly as you lay against Bumblebee's chassis, snuggled up against him on this beautiful night with the unexpected yet alluring visitors.

It's date night for you and Bumblebee. He's been staying with Noah and Mirage while taking a break from missions, and he gets to be closer to you as well before he needs to meet up with Optimus again.

Now, on this night together, the fireflies we're all out and lighting up around you. You don't see them often, so this was a special treat.

"From ten thousand lightning bugs." Bumblebee sings through his radio making you giggle gently from one of your favourite songs.

"With so much shit in this world you've got to admire its beauty as well, what lives here, the innocent lives that bring such an amenity to us. So pretty." You coo in delight while leaning into Bumblebee more, admiring the surrounding glowing insects.

"Your smile makes me happier." Bumblebee always admires your alluring smiles, they bring such warmth to his spark, seeing you calm and happy.

Turning your head you face him on a better angle and lean closer, softly kissing the side of his mouth guard and savouring his soft vibrations of delight. He might not use his voice, but you enjoy his radio chatter and his ability to find everything through that.

Moving your hand you lift the shirt off your head, tossing it aside and wiggling out of your skirt and settling yourself back down.

"Daaaaaaamn." Bumblebee admires the black lace you wear as he traces his thick digits across them and against your skin.

His reaction makes you blush while leaning your body against his touch, letting out a low moan as your body breaks out in goosebumps. Your fingers trace over his yellow plating, up over his chassis and gently curling against both sides of his neck cables, earning you a satisfied rev from his engines.

Moving your hands you reach behind and unhook your bra and sling shot that across the grass. Your breasts are in view and your perk nipples harden under his eager touches. The fireflies hovered around and some landed against your skin making Bumblebee coo gently.

"Heavens above." He praises. They do tickle your skin a little but you decide to allow them to hang around during your coupling. Above all, despite his size, you have been able to take his spike before. The very thought makes your heated core throb under your panties.

Your hand descends and you start to rub yourself inside your panties, circling your clit with your thumb while pumping your fingers into your depths, curling against your walls and stretching yourself while planting kisses against his armour.

Bumblebee responds through lingering revs and moans, optics flickering through the growing pleasure that was boiling through him. He retracts his panel and you gasp as you feel the long throbbing length drag against you.

"It's been a while, huh? You're so eager." You whisper through your heated breaths before removing your hand from your core and slipping out of your panties.

"So fricken eager baby."

Now naked, you knew you were perhaps rushing slightly, but you can't help yourself as you take hold of his throbbing spike and position yourself on him, pressing down against his tip before feeling yourself stretch around him.

Gasping you slowly take inches at a time, feeling the ridges drag past your lips and against your inner walls, every throb sending gentle shockwaves through your body. The intense arousal that blooms through you only grows hotter as you take more of him, feeling his metal frame quicker before stopping half way and letting out a long moan as you give yourself a moment.

"Fucking hell. Bee, so big, so good! You're so fucking huge!" You cry out in bliss as you rest your hands against his chassis, clenching down on him as his servos hold you steady around your smaller body on him, wanting to be careful and not hurt you.

"So tight!"

Letting out a wide smirk, you caress your hands across his face before taking hold and slowly start to rock yourself on him, letting out short whimpers with each aching fill provided. You feel every throb and ridge rocking through you, your depths accepting more of him each time you sink back down, your hand moving to your belly where you feel his spike pressing up against you over again.

Feeling the lump gave you such a high, a desire to be filled by him always, to feel the lump and to be filled with his fluids so deeply. You're not crazy, you're simply in love with your robot boyfriend who you wanted to be with forever and always.

Most of the fireflies still hang around, not minding what was happening at all as they land on you and Bumblebee to join the fun. You can't help but giggle through the burning pleasure and glee, loving the glowing sight they provided on each of you.

Bumblebee's optics flicker more, his moans increasing as he holds back his overload. Again, it's been a while, so you're not too far off either from cumming around his twitching spike buried deep in your core as you ride him eagerly.

Your juices flood over him, leaking out onto his armour as you feel the warm leaks of his trans fluids soaking your channel. Moving your hand again you rub your clit gently, whimpering more followed by a loud mewl as you toss your head back, riding him harder and panting through your hammering heartbeat.

"Oh fuck! Bee! I'm close...so close!" You chant your warning to him as you feel yourself about to break loose on him.

"Come crumbling down!" You hear him answer, seconds before he jerks his hips up into you, spike twitching and erupting thick ropes of fluids deep within you, filling your belly where there's a small round lump formed. His sounds were so mechanical, machine like, and you are freaking addicted to it.

All the fireflies suddenly burst off your both during your orgasim and overload, leaving it just the two of you than on this beautiful night. Guess you both kind of scared them away.

Unleashing yourself you cum around him, clenching hard and crying out in bliss as your body convulses against him, planting yourself against his chassis where you pant heavily, breasts rubbing against his warm metal as you catch your breath while letting out soft murmurs.

"I just had sex!" He sings, making you snort a giggle.

"That we did. So good Bee, you're always so good. I'll love you forever my yellow bug. Will you love me?"

"Loved you yesterday, love you still, always have, always will." Bumblebee speaks a quote fondly that makes you blush more.

Gently, he helps you off him, laying you against his chassis and soft blanket he had brought on your date. You lean up and kiss his cheek plating, before nuzzling yourself against the blanket and his warm metal, silently thanking whatever gods were real for making you so damn lucky.

"I love you, Bumblebee." You whisper fondly.

"I know." He answers that silly famous Han Solo quote that you can't help but giggle lightly through your tired state.

You are very lucky indeed.

#transformers #rotb #bumblebee #valveplug #bumblebee x reader #robot x human #reader insert #smut #fanfiction #writing #sugarrusheag

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delopsia · 1 year

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Polaroid | Bob Floyd x Reader

Word Count: 3,200 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, unprotected sex, fighting for dominance/power struggle, slight jealous/possessive Bob, inappropriate usage of a motorcycle and a Polaroid camera. Brief Summary: Bob doesn't like how touchy Mav's been with you. Solution? Fucking you against Mav's bike and using his camera to memorialize the moment. But you've got an idea of your own.

Lightning flickers just outside, a brief flash of white light piercing through the tiny, square garage door windows. Such a swift appearance, and yet, you can already tell that it's brighter than the single light bulb posted in the center of the garage. Dull golden hues paint the room in even dimmer shades of bronze. So poorly lit that you can hardly see the silvery 'Kawasaki' logo of Mav's motorcycle, mere inches away from your nose.

Thunder booms. That bleak little bulb fades out for the briefest moment as the house rattles. Whistling wind howls around the corners, shaking the garage door, threatening to tear it down and blow your cover at any moment.

But, fuck is it hard to focus on anything that isn't the soft tap, tap, tap of a velvety cockhead at your entrance. Doing nothing more than spread you open and let you feel the light pressure as he breaches you, only to pull away and repeat it all over again.

Your barefoot lifts off the ground, blindly kicking behind yourself. That might be a shin that you make contact with, but it very well could be another piece of junk on Bradley's garage floor. "Hurry up, asshole."

Bob's halfhearted chuckle almost sounds like the low rumble of thunder, "I will, I will."

But all that does is change his method of torment. Lazily sliding himself between your folds, length rubbing past your swollen clit, sends a frustrating shiver up your spine.

Light flashes.

As white as lightning, but it didn't come from outside.

Click.

That mechanical whirr sounds like...

"Did you just take a damn picture?" But your question is answered the moment you turn your head because there's Bobby, setting that silvery Polaroid camera back onto the table. A thin white piece of film hanging between his upturned lips, color yet to develop. "Isn't that—that's Mav's camera!"

"I know it," Bob's pocketing that dumb little photo without a second thought, jaw flexing as it clenches, "ain't like he's gonna notice."

Pressure blooms as that wet, thick cock head begins to push into you, effectively shoving your thoughts from your own mind. Excess lubricant squelching as that thick tip fully slips inside of you so suddenly that your knees shudder. Pussy stretched wide around him, still tender from how he bent you over the kitchen counter this morning before the coffee had even finished brewing.

Fingertips swirl around your hips, tickling the skin there as he eases in. Your head is too heavy to hold up, forehead thumping against the soft leather of Mav's motorcycle seat. Such an odd place for him to have you out of all of the hiding spaces in Bradley's house.

If you'd known that a nightmare of a storm would force the semi-annual Dagger Squad Cookout into an unplanned sleepover, you would have bugged Bob to bring condoms. Something about these events always leaves you heading home with a limp in your step.

"Look so pretty like this," Bob's big palms span out against your ass, squeezing greedy handfuls of you, unaware of how his cock pushes a desperate gasp from your burning lungs. "Takin' my cock so well."

It's hard recalling just when your eyes fell shut, but you're opening them. Peering over your shoulder once more, mouth opening, but unable to ask him to hurry up. Finish getting inside before your weary legs shudder out from under you.

He hears you.

You don't say a word, but he hears you.

His sweaty palm runs up your spine, hips tilting forward in earnest now. That dull pressure growing into an aching burn as your pussy flutters around him, split wide. You haven't the slightest clue what the rest of his Navy buddies are packing, but you've got the sneaking suspicion that Bob's the thickest one here. Obnoxiously sized to add to that unsuspecting personality of his.

Always the quiet ones.

"Hurry up," your weak voice is hardly able to get out of your mouth, vocal cords strung too tight, "Mav's gonna lose his shit if he finds us in here."

Those big hands grip your waist, holding you still as he draws back agonizingly slow. Paint could dry faster, but fuck does he rub against those sensitive spots so nicely. Perfectly sculpted, like he was made just for you. "I don't care about what that ol' bastard has to say," his tone a little rigid, not its typical lightness.

Is he... "Are you jealous?"

His hips snap forward. Smugly slamming that thick length of his back into you, punches a wail right out of your throat. Your knees nearly buckle. Body bouncing forward a little too far, the frame of a thirty-thousand-dollar motorcycle rocking with you. "Nope."

Fuck fuck fuck you've struck a nerve.

"You're jealous!" And you'd be looking over your shoulder to get a glimpse of his face if he weren't leaning down. Pressing his clothed chest up against your back, bodies snug together, bouncing with each tentative thrust. Figuring out his pace.

"I'm not jealous," sharp teeth nip at the shell of your ear, his hot breath tickling, "I'm being perfectly reasonable."

Because being reasonable involves him bending you over Maverick's motorcycle. A reasonable man takes someone else's Polaroid camera to snap a photo of your cunt wrapped around his cock. But you can't complain about this form of reasonable because it is downright delicious.

Possessive hands dip beneath your shirt, feeling the expanse of your body beneath his touch as he fucks you. Soft puffs of breath knocked from your lungs with every

"That old man is so fucking touchy, sometimes I just wanna..." but he doesn't finish that sentence. Too distracted by the lewd squelch of your pussy, so loud in this garage.

Wind shakes the garage door like an angry fist, howling as it tries to squeeze through the minuscule gaps in the corners. A breeze is all that slips past, licking past your ankles. Only seems to make the room colder when Bob peels away from you, rhythm stalling as he reaches for something on the table.

A second flash tears through the room. Some dumb little whirring sound follows in hot pursuit.

And whatever picture he's taken must be a good one because he doesn't start moving again. Too fixated on that dumb little square that has hardly developed yet. Doesn't respond when you wriggle your hips backward, doing the work your damn self.

This is a horrible position. Legs too far apart to do much, can't pull too far forward without rocking Maverick's beloved motorcycle, gas in the tank sloshing. A warning that you want nothing more of.

But it's easy to stand up properly.

Letting Bobby's cock slip out of you as your back straightens, the garage floor cold against your bare feet as you turn to face the bastard himself. His mouth is moving, but nothing comes out. Unable to make a noise as your fingers tangle in soft, messy hair and pull.

"Ow, ow, ow," he squeaks, eyes scrunching shut as you manhandle him. Knees thunking painfully against cold concrete, unable to do more than paw at your hand as you push him onto his back.

Those glasses jostle, sliding further up his face, and it's almost enough to loosen your grip on his hair.

Almost.

"If you're going to fuck me against Mav's bike because you're jealous," you grit, pulling his head back impossibly further, all to get a better look at his pretty pale neck. "Then you'd better do it right."

His cock bounces against his belly, lube staining his shirt, the only one he has for the night. Angry, flushed tip begging for your attention, twitching when you wrap your hand around him. A little too firm as you pump him, downright squeezing that little grunt out of him.

"I'm sorry," his fist shakes, waving that little polaroid in the air, "I was...it developed, and I—ah!"

His back lifts off the ground, torn between chasing and squirming away from the swift thumb that rubs at the underside of his head. And you think that just might be a little bit of precum that spills out of him, coating your already drenched hand.

True to his word, one of the photos already developed. It's hard to tell which one it is or when it was taken, but even in the poor lighting of the picture, the sight is unmistakable. You. Head down against Maverick's motorcycle seat, Bob's cock only halfway in you, shirt pushed up to reveal your naked back.

Now you see why he was so distracted.

Letting loose of his hair, you begin to move. Properly settling into his lap now, guiding him back up into your aching cunt. So sore already, and you're not even close yet.

Those pretty blue eyes roll back, chest rising with a gasp, "shit."

The camera hits the ground with a clatter, falling right out of his hand without a second thought. No concern of whether it's broken or not, too focused on touching you instead. Clammy palms roaming beneath your shirt, clinging as you sink down on him. Always has to be touching you.

You're already seizing one of them, ignoring how much bigger his hand is compared to yours, as you drag his calloused fingers down between your legs. He doesn't need any further encouragement, pressing a rough thumb against your neglected clit without a second thought.

"That's it," you breathe; now it's your turn to dip beneath his shirt. Hands roaming past soft belly and hard chest, feeling the way he shudders beneath your wandering touch. Such a subtle motion that seems to burn itself beneath your eyelids.

The concrete floor is cold against your knees, biting at your skin as you begin to move. Uncomfortable, but it's still better than the truck bed you rode him in a few weeks ago. And it's so easy to ignore when Bob's hips swivel, fat cock nudging against a small bundle of nerves inside of you.

All the while, his thumb is finding swirls lazily, struggling to keep up with the quick motion of your body. And it's not the best that he can do, but it's got your heart pounding in your chest regardless. Downright panting like a dog as you take what you want, so wrapped up in the way that he fills you.

Stars sparkle in your vision, mottling your near picture-perfect view of Bob's flushed face. Glasses and hair askew, half-lidded eyes peering up at you like you're a work of art. Grunting with every quick meet of your hips, the sound of skin on skin bouncing off the bare walls.

"I've given you an idea, haven't I?" Bob's panting, more of a statement than a question, because there can only be one reason that you're picking up the camera.

It's hard to aim this old thing; too close to really see much, forcing you to lean backward. Color is already beginning to spread across the film as it whirrs out of the camera. What looks to be the soft outline of glasses, or maybe that's his watch...

God, do you hope that the flash doesn't erase the strawberry red from Bobby's cheeks in the final product because it is everything.

A whimper rattles out from beneath you.

Bob's hips impatiently squirm, bucking up into your now still body. Needy. Desperate for you to do something, anything. Put into the same conundrum he put you into just a few minutes ago.

"What?" Fighting back your smile, "Something the matter, Bobby?" This wasn't planned, but oh, are you gonna commit to it. Such a perfect situation dropped right into your lap.

His eyebrows knit together, nose scrunching with it, "Y'know there is."

But he doesn't elaborate any further, and you're having too much fun watching him writhe to let him out of it easily. Feigning innocence, cocking your head to the side and all. No, you truly have no idea why he could be so fussy beneath you right now.

"There is?" You chirp as innocently as you can muster. A little too fake.

A little too much for the man beneath you.

Your back hits cold, hard ground. Head cushioned by a big hand that's settled behind it, a strong body settling atop of yours. Legs spread impossibly wide, unable to do anything but kick your heels against Bobby's ass.

"'m too close for y'to be pullin' this shit," fuck, fuck, fuck, that childhood accent of his is coming out.

And there's not a damn thing you can do but drop everything in your hands and dig your nails into his biceps because he's already beginning to fuck into you. Knocks the air from your lungs with every thrust in, balls smacking heavily against you. Cock head hitting those little nerves dead on. Has a tingling settling into your inner thighs.

"Yeah, now y'got nothin' t'say, do ya?" He's grunting into your ear, sharp teeth nipping the shell of it. That deep voice alone shouldn't have you clamping down around him the way you do, thighs fluttering as they try to squeeze him tighter. Closer.

Yet you can do nothing to slow those unrelenting thrusts; no, if anything, you spur him on even further. Drawn into a frenzy by the way your cunt spasms around him, overwhelmed and stretched to your damn limit. Knocking little sounds out of you that you don't recognize, pitchy, almost pitiful.

"Touch yourself for me," he orders it as if you could possibly need anything more. Heat already pools low in your belly, bubbling to the surface. "C'mon, wanna feel your lil pussy cum 'round me."

But there goes your hand. Reaching down between your tightly pressed bodies, barely enough space for you to crook your fingers and press the pads of them to your swollen clit. Spiraling in their favorite fashion, rubbing over it once, twice—

The heat coiling in your abdomen snaps.

Spreading across every inch of your body as your back arches off the frigid floor, cumming with a cry that's muffled by Bob's sweaty palm clamping over your mouth. Pussy spasming around his still-pistoning dick, clenching tight. Every nudge of his plush head against those nerves enough to have you jolting, head too cloudy to do anything else.

Dully, you're aware of a sudden stillness as Bob cums. Heat spilling into you, promising to leave a sticky mess that you can't be fucked to worry about right now. And then there's that heaviness that follows, all hundred and eighty pounds of him settling on top of you like a weighted blanket.

A weighted blanket that gives lots and lots of kisses.

Peppering over your cheeks, across your jaw, and down your sweaty neck. Not skipping the opportunity to love on every protruding vein and imperfection your body has to offer. That remarkably cold nose taps at you with each one, like a little piece of hail that's gotten in through the garage door.

"I don't know whether to thank Mav or to kick his ass," you croak. Has your throat always been so dry? It takes a moment to get your eyes open; already that time of night when closing your eyes comes with a risk of dozing off until morning.

There he is.

That dumb, soft face with his equally dumb cherry-red ears. You can't help but reach up and squish one of those flushed cheeks, watching how pale blue eyes track your every movement. Could very well dodge your torment if he wanted to, but he doesn't seem to take any interest in that.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" He murmurs, leaning against your hand. It can't be comfortable, holding himself in this position, oversensitive cock still lodged deep inside of you, bony knees and elbows digging into the ground. Yet he doesn't move.

Your head shakes, "I would have told you if you did."

There's that soft grin of his. Taking over his features as he leans in to press his lips against yours, too lazy for anything but a chaste peck that he sighs into. Then a second, and a third, until teeth clatter together because you're smiling too much.

His elbow cracks as he leans back onto his haunches, properly pulling himself out of you now. And you almost wish he didn't because you can already feel his cum beginning to leak out of you.

Without a word, he reaches for the camera resting next to you.

To say that you're surprised is an overstatement. "Are you taking another picture?"

"Uhuh," one of Bob's eyes scrunch shut as he peers through the little viewfinder. Looks like a proper damn photographer as he takes one more photo.

"You know that Mav's gonna notice the missing film, right?" It's not even a doubt in your mind that he'll notice before he's finished his coffee. Has been meticulously photographing anything and everything he finds worthy of going into his album, from a plain coffee mug to Javy climbing a tree in pursuit of the neighbor's cat.

"I know it," Bob hums, setting the camera down in favor of reaching for the scattering of discarded pictures, "and I hope the touchy bastard spends forever wonderin' where it went."

His hand disappears into his back pocket, producing a worn, leather wallet that's four years older than your relationship. Fraying at the edges but still sturdy.

"You're putting them all in your wallet?" You ask it as if it's not exactly what he's doing.

"Yeah," but he freezes. Blinking rapidly as he glances back up at you. "Did you want one to put in yours?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," and with that said, you're reaching for the camera. Scooping it off the ground just one more time, aiming it right up at him.

And for once, he doesn't try to dodge the camera. Holding still and letting you snap the photo you're after. Some little unsuspecting shot of his sleepy face and lazy smile, the kind of thing that nobody would be able to tell the context of.

Because, unlike Bob, you don't enjoy having a mini heart attack every time you open your wallet around someone.

Getting off the ground is a task all on its own. Two tired bodies bumping into each other, trying to help but only serving to make the situation even worse. Your pants lie discarded on top of a workbench; how they got there, you have no idea, and Bob trips on the singular step out of the garage.

Miraculously, nobody has woken up during your escapades. Not a soul awake as you skitter towards the spare bedroom you've been given, hand in hand.

But you do wake up to the sound of Maverick accusing Jake of 'taking his camera out for a joyride.'

"Least he ain't noticed that his bike was taken out for a joyride, too," Bob whispers into your temple, voice so groggy that you can hardly understand him.

Opening your eyes is not a task you're about to undertake, still clinging to the sweet, cozy embrace of sleep. So close that you can reach out and touch it. "You're lucky he's not your instructor anymore."

"Y'don't wanna see me do two hundred pushups?"

Your eyes snap open. "On second thought," but Bob's rolling on top of you before you can even pretend to get up and tell Maverick of your crimes.

A pair of Polaroid cameras arrive at your house within the week. With an album that you can't wait to fill.

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