stuffwedoistotallynotillegal

[stuffwedoistotallynotillegal]

do you wanna make somethin' of it (Robert "Bob" Floyd x fem!reader)

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: turns out, our favorite WSO has a side hustle, as quinn's favorite cowboy.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: audio porn, a truly unhinged amount of dirty talk, overuse of pet names, bob's raging size kink, overstimulation via vibrators (and otherwise), unprotected PiV sex, an unrealistic number of orgasms, some dumbification, as can be expected.

A/N: this is way late bc i had to make sure the people who reblogged the moodboard were legal, thanks everyone for the patience and support! esp thank you @hangmanssunnies for being so encouraging, @sometimesanalice for being a gem and betaing thank you @laracrofted for coming up with bob's (ahem) inspirational reveal, and thank you everyone else for letting me be feral. there were a couple people who reblogged the moodboard but I couldn't tag them, so for the record, if you ask to be tagged, pls do make sure you're taggable AND ALSO THAT YOU HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO I AM NOT KIDDING. the title is from Jo Dee Messina's 90s country bop, "Do You Wanna Make Something Of It" -- okay enjoy!

You paused, halfway into your flight suit, looking down at your phone. 

It was probably a bad idea to open an audio erotica app forty minutes before you had to be in the debriefing room with the rest of the aviators in your unit. 

But. 

You were ovulating, your vibrator was charged, and you’d just gotten a notification that BullRiderRhett had posted a new audio.

Before you knew it, you were grabbing your headphones and folding your flight suit by the door, leaving your tank top and sports bra on, but shimmying out of your panties. You set an alarm on your phone, connected your headphones and opened the app. 

Quickie During the Rodeo

After my ride, I don’t have much time before they call up the winners…but you look so damn good in that sundress. We have to be quick, though. [M4F] [Short Audio] [Established Relationship] [In Public] [Strong Language] [Moaning] [SFX]

Yeah, you thought to yourself, that’d do. 

You slid into bed, pulling a muting blanket over the lower half of your body as you settled into your bed and clicked play. 

Immediately, the sounds of a rodeo pushed through your headphones. 

You heard the shuffle of hundreds of feet, a rowdy crowd cheering, and distant country music over a speaker. You could almost imagine the dusty air, the smell of fresh hay and sweat, and the clamor of barrel racing in another arena. 

There was a steady clanking of spurs as a pair of boots walked towards you. 

“There y’are,” a low voice said, the perfect combination of fond and gravelly. You heard a shuffle of fabric, and a soft inhale, like the cowboy was wrapping you in his arms. Your eyes fell closed so you could immerse yourself in the fantasy. 

“How’s my girl doin’?” he asked, his voice muffled like he had buried his head in your shoulder.

You never responded verbally to these things; it broke the illusion to speak to an empty room, but you liked that Rhett paused, as if waiting for your answer. 

“Ah, well, I always ride better when I know you’re in the stands, cheerin’ for me,” he said. He had such a fantastic voice, low and soft, with this drawl that was so unpretentious and alluring. His canvas jacket rustled like he was hugging you tighter. 

“Just let me hold you for a sec, yeah?” he asked, as the ambient sounds of the rodeo seeped back in. You found yourself just listening for the sound of Rhett’s breathing over it, a slow and steady rhythm that was deeply centering. 

You heard when his breath caught, followed by a shuffling sound and a choked gasp from the cowboy.  

“Whoa, whoa,” Rhett’s voice was warm with surprise and delight. “Cut that out, darlin’, we can’t, they’re gonna call me back–”

His voice broke off on a low moan that had you biting your lip. 

Why did guys in real life never moan? 

It was such a pretty sound, deep and masculine, and full of desire. It was one of your favorite things about Rhett. Your hand slipped under the blanket, rubbing over your pussy gently, getting yourself used to the pressure. 

“Darlin’,” Rhett’s voice had gotten deeper, like a warning. “Ya can’t tease me like that, ‘s not kind.”

Your hips shifted at that voice, and Rhett laughed, low. 

“Y’just can’t help yourself, can you, sweet girl?”

It was your favorite pet name he used, just the way he said it. You were obsessed with the gravel in his voice, the melodic twang coupled with a gentleness that belied all his ruggedness. It was like he was being quiet to make sure no one overheard him, like his words were for your ears only. 

His spurs clinked as the noise of the rodeo faded, as though he was leading you somewhere away from prying eyes. A second later, there was a gentle, wet sound, like he was kissing you. 

How would he taste, you wondered. Would his lips be soft? Or would they be chapped? Would he be ravenous, turned on from the adrenaline of the ride, or would he be slow, savoring your taste? 

You turned on your vibrator, on a low and warming setting. You traced it lightly over your pussy,  acclimatizing, as Rhett’s voice and the soft vibrations sent a heat under your skin. 

Rhett’s breathing was heavy, like being near you made him breathless.

“Shameless,” Rhett chided, amused and fond. “I know I can’t stop you, but I’m not about to let anyone see ya like this. You’re mine.” 

Your hips canted up into the vibrator, spurred on by the idea of being his. 

“Oh, you like that, huh, sweet girl?” Rhett practically purred, his voice like a caress, “You like being mine?”

Rhett’s words washing over you, and vibrator’s motions met less resistance as you felt yourself growing wet.

“What if I…” he asked, and you heard fabric shuffling, like he was reaching down and under your dress. “Fuck, darlin’, are you wet for me already?” 

You pressed your lips together to trap in a whimper. 

You knew it was formulaic, but that didn’t make you less turned on. In this fantasy, you were Rhett’s girlfriend, you were already wet for him, you were needy enough to risk being caught to have his dick inside of you. 

“Ya sure about this?” Rhett asked, and you could hear the intensity in his voice. Like he needed you too, just as desperately. “Yeah? Yeah, me too…fuck—yeah, feel me through my jeans. Feel how hard I am for you.”

You turned the vibrator up, imagining the rough texture of denim against your pussy. How hard Rhett would be, how good it would feel to rock up against the dirty fabric. Probably not the most hygienic, but he’d be so hot, even through his jeans, impossibly tempting.

“Go on, take me out,” Rhett directed, his voice a low whisper. 

He moaned in your ear as a belt buckle came undone, and your head fell back as you circled the vibrator over your clit. God, he sounded so good, he sounded unraveled. You imagined the weight of him in your hand, and you shifted your hips, wishing you could feel the heat of him. 

“Shit, okay. We hafta be quick,” Rhett panted. “I know, I know, turn around for me, darlin’. Brace yourself against the wall here…Christ, you look so good like this…ya ready for me?” 

You couldn’t help yourself; you slid a hand down your body, changing the angle of the vibrator so you could run a finger through your folds. 

Rhett held his breath, like it was too good, too much, and you waited.

Then came his strangled, relieved exhale, and you pushed a finger into yourself as you imagined him sliding into you. 

“That’s right, sweet girl,” Rhett praised, his voice breathless, awed. “Let me into that tight pussy, nice and easy...”

Your mouth fell open as you imagined him filling you. 

Would he be thick? Long? Maybe a slight curve to his cock? Cut or uncut? You licked your lips, your mind spinning with possibilities, your fingers a paltry imitation of the thing you wanted so badly. 

“Ah, that’s it, that’s it,” Rhett murmured, and you couldn’t help but add another finger. “Such a good girl, for me, aren’t ya?”

You wanted to be his good girl. 

Rhett was breathing hard, and the rhythm of it was perfect. You circled around your clit with the vibrator, and you were panting now too, your hips canting up as you fucked yourself on your fingers. You could imagine him driving into you, his hips thrusting his cock into you. It would be thick, you decided, broad and heavy. 

“Ah, you’re taking me so well,” Rhett grunted. “You were made to take this fat cock, weren’t you?” 

His breaths were coming faster, and you could hear him slamming his hips into yours. You could imagine his balls swinging, could imagine him driving into you to reach that spot your fingers just couldn’t brush against. 

“This pussy feels so good, darlin’,” Rhett whispered, “the way you’re clenchin’ around me…”

Your thighs fell farther apart as you tried to time your fingers’ thrusts to his cadence. He was grunting after each thrust, this beautiful soft sound of exertion and pleasure.

A faint cheer rose above the sounds of your panting; another event had concluded. 

“Shit, we hafta hurry, they’re gonna–” Rhett broke off, his hips snapping faster. “C’mere, let me play with that clit, let me feel you–fuck yeah, clench around me, just like that.” 

You turned the vibrator up, your fingers faltering inside of you at the increased vibration and his words. Rhett’s grunts were getting higher pitched, a delicate thread of need seeping into them and you were going to lose your mind; it was perfect. 

“Ah, such a good girl,” Rhett groaned. “God, I don’t deserve you, ya feel so good…are you close, darlin? Tell me you’re close, I need to feel you cumming on my cock, will ya do that for me?”

You were bucking into your hand, chasing a release that had come on so fast, so strong and you were so damn close, you just needed–

“There ya go,” Rhett breathed, his voice tight. “You feel–oh, sweet girl, don’t stop clenching me like that. Oh, you’re gonna make me cum with that tight pussy, fuck, are you gonna come with me, darlin’? Please come with me, please…”

You pumped your fingers in time with his pleas, Rhett’s voice growing hoarse as his hips sped up. You were so close, he sounded so good, you were almost there. 

“Feels so good…Ah, I’m coming, I’m there– ah, shit,” Rhett moaned, his voice choking, and you orgasmed along with him, collapsing back into the pillow. 

Your legs shook and you jerked the vibrator away from your sensitive clit, stroking gently over your pussy with your other hand and easing yourself down.Your body felt like it was humming and you turned the vibrator off, sated and pleasure drunk.  

Something about Rhett always had you timing it perfectly, feeling so in sync and so primed, and when he came, it was like your permission to. 

Rhett was groaning softly in your ear. 

“So beautiful, darlin’,” he whispered. “God, I’m so lucky, look at you…so damn beautiful…”

The audio would fade out in another few minutes and you fumbled for your phone to turn it off, and turn off the just-in-case alarm that you’d set. 

There was a bittersweet moment with audio erotica that didn’t exist in traditional porn– aftercare. Instead of just ending a scene, most creators seemed to enjoy winding down with their listeners, saying soft things, silly things, fond things. It straddled the line between soothing and demoralizing, and you couldn’t say you loved the contrast between the care in Rhett’s voice and the emptiness around you. 

An emptiness that was interrupted by a loud pounding on your door. 

“Hey, I can see your light under the door,” Bradley called from the hallway, “you better not still be asleep! If we’re late to Mav’s briefing you know he’s gonna have us doing laps around the tarmac.”

You stuck your tongue out at the ceiling on principle, grateful for the quiet of your vibrator and the distance between the door and your bed.

“Calm your tits, Rooster,” you yelled back, “I’m practically ready.”

“Damn better be,” you heard Bradley say, loud enough to be heard, soft enough to know he wasn’t actually pressed.

You gave yourself another ten seconds to revel in that perfect orgasm, and then swung your legs over the side of the bed. You cleaned yourself off quickly, dressed even quicker, and were out the door in no time. 

Some might even say, with a pep in your step. 

“Told you,” you muttered as you walked by Bradley’s row in the debriefing room, on time, and he huffed. 

You settled into your normal seat, waving good morning to Callie and lifting your chin at Mickey, who grinned back at you. Bob was in the seat next to yours, as you’d all agreed early on that WSOs had to stick together, and you bumped his shoulder with yours as you sat. 

The sweet man smiled, a hidden thing, and looked away quickly. 

Sometimes, you felt like you knew there was more to him than he let on. 

You’d seen him in action, seen him make split-second decisions that kept him and Phoenix in the air. You’d seen him crank out 200 pushups with Jake and Javy like it was nothing. But at the same time, he never seemed to hold your eye for longer than strictly necessary, seeming more comfortable to address the floor (unless someone pushed too hard, and he’d snap something so sassy it’d make you bite the inside of your mouth to keep from laughing). 

When you’d first met him, you’d thought he was cute, in an Old Hollywood leading man kind of way, soft muscles and deep eyes.

You’d wondered if maybe you made him nervous. You’d thought maybe there was interest in those ocean blue eyes, but time went on, and he remained sweet and polite and kind. He was the same to you as he was with everyone else, and you were led to the reality that he was just an incredibly decent person. 

Crushes came and went like water, especially in a group as gorgeous as the one you flew with, so you let him have his secrets. 

The lights clicked off as Maverick strode to the front of the room, already talking and clicking his way through some kind of demonstration. 

The hours in the room flew by.

By the time he finished, your head was spinning with a blur of parameters and calculations and mission expectations. You knew pilots felt the same way about your job as you did about theirs, but you were always grateful that at the end of briefings you only had to worry about systems and odds, not about flying a plane. As you were dismissed, everyone crowded to the center aisle, trying to get out and to the hangar as quickly as possible. Someone sneezed, or someone pushed someone; Harvard dropped his coffee.

It wasn’t full, and you were all in flight suits anyways, but you still startled when it fell, splashing over the row you were sitting in. Black coffee flew over seats and notebooks (thankfully no phones), and someone laughed as Harvard’s attempts to catch it just served to further empty the cup. Bob took the worst of it, on the end of your row.

"Ah, shit," Bob muttered, and you froze. 

It wasn't that Harvard's spilled coffee had ruined Bob's notes, and yours too. 

It wasn't that everyone in the briefing room was looking back at your row in surprise. 

It wasn't even that Bob had sworn, even though you'd never heard anything harsher than "gosh" from the WSO's lips. 

It was that that cuss, in that voice, in that same mumbled tone, had pushed you to orgasm four hours ago. 

“Alright, it’s just coffee,” Maverick called over the clamor. “We’re burning daylight, people, come on.” 

Harvard was apologizing profusely, someone was passing paper towels out, but you felt completely out of your body, in shock. 

Bob was BullRiderRhett.

The WSO who asked for ginger ale when everyone else did shots at the Hard Deck, who cleaned his glasses when he got nervous, who stayed up all night to help Payback’s kid put together a Lego Statue of Liberty last time he was in town …was the guy who had talked you through the last few months of orgasms. 

(Yes, you had an annual subscription).

(Yes, you deserved it). 

When you let yourself back into your room at the end of the night, it still felt surreal. 

In retrospect, you should’ve been a million times more dialed in– you’d had a $73 million machine under your hands, and the only thing on your mind all day had been this revelation.

How had you never noticed before?? 

Now that you were thinking of it, Bob did have that slight accent when he was tired, or when he was mad enough at something stupid Jake said…but what were you even supposed to do with this knowledge?

You moved through your skincare much the same way you’d moved through most of the day – on autopilot. 

A knock on your door startled you. 

“Now’s not the time, Bradshaw,” you called, automatically. 

“Uh,” called a too-familiar voice, “not Bradshaw.”

You winced at your reflection in the mirror, trying desperately to decide if you recognized Bob’s voice from countless drills or from your Favorites list. You crossed your arms across your chest, your sweatshirt dragging against the hem of your pajama shorts as you slouched over to the door. 

“Robert,” you announced, as you opened it, mentally smacking your palm against your forehead. You had literally never called him Robert; what was wrong with you??

Could’ve been worse, you mused. 

You could’ve said ‘Rhett’.

“Hey,” he said, and if he was thrown by the use of his full name, he didn’t show it. 

He looked the same. 

The same, but in the way that had made you catch your breath when you first met him, when you were relieved that he was so unassuming and kind, because if he’d been any kind of authoritative, it would’ve debilitated you. 

Tonight, he’d clearly showered after drills. 

His hair was freshly combed and still damp, darker than normal. A tendril fell in front of his glasses, leaving a small line of fog against the outer corner of one of the lenses. He was in a plain white tshirt and light sweatpants, and you made yourself stop from looking further because you were not about to objectify your friend just because you now knew that he could dirty talk with the best of them. 

And now you were thinking about that.

“Are you mad at me?” Bob asked, and it snapped you out of your spiral. 

He was frowning at the sill, his hands shoved in his pockets, and his chest tight. There was a purse in between his eyebrows, and you really could not understand him, because how could a man who was objectively gorgeous, subjectively sweet, be this adorable? He looked up and the moment your eyes met, you looked away. 

“No,” you said quickly, clearing your throat. “Of course not. Obviously.”

“I mean, not obviously,” Bob said, rubbing a sneaker against the carpet in the hallway. “You practically sprinted out of the briefing this morning, refused to speak to me over comms during drills, and you won’t look at me for more than two seconds, and that’s normally someone else’s line to me.”

It was a weak joke, but it was funny, and you could hear in his voice that he was trying to set you at ease, and that really only made you feel worse. 

So you stepped aside and held open the door, not really trusting yourself to say anything else. Bob looked nervous, and you wanted to tell him it was you, not him, but instead you waited in silence as he stepped into the room. 

You only had the light over the sink on, and the room was in soft shadows, but you thought it might be more weird if you turned on a light, like you were calling attention to it. You shut the door and Navy rooms didn’t really come with guest furniture, so you gestured to the foot of your bed, while you paced. 

“This is going to be awkward,” you warned him, glancing in his direction, and wishing you hadn’t. 

He was sitting on the foot of your bed, as directed, legs spread slightly and his elbows resting on his knees. You could see the muscles of his shoulders through the tshirt, and his eyes seemed especially bright, in the dim light from the room. 

“Okay,” Bob said easily, and you appreciated that he wasn’t rushing you. Maybe he was starting to understand that this was something you were working through, rather than something he had done.

You switched directions, walking the length of the room, and then the length again. 

You had to say it.

You’d just have to say it, and that would explain it, and then it would be out, and then you could figure out how to move forward. Bob was a problem solver, like you, and you were both smart enough to figure this out. You were also both adults. You could just say it. 

You stopped in front of him, and Bob sat up a little straighter, like he wanted to be sure he was being respectful to the weight of whatever you were saying. God, he was such a good person, why did you have to be such a creep. 

“Iknowaboutbullriderrhett,” you said in a rush, clasping your hands in front of you. The words seemed to echo around the room and you stared at Bob, waiting for him to react. 

He didn’t, not really.

He nodded, slowly, and you watched him process the day through the lens of your revelation. 

“So, you’re disappointed it’s me,” he said, like he was clarifying, and you shook your head.

“What?” you asked, confused, and Bob shrugged.

“Like if you were expecting a ranch hand from Wyoming, I get it, it’s weird that it’s just me.”

You blinked. “That…that’s beside the point; I feel guilty, like this is a weird invasion of privacy, and isn’t that what you should be asking, anyways, is if I’m going to tell anybody? I won’t, but–”

Bob shook his head, his expression still pretty guarded. “Whose opinion do you think matters to me more than yours?”

And how the hell were you supposed to respond to that?

“What?” you managed again. 

Bob looked at you.

It was maybe the longest uninterrupted eye contact you’d ever had, and you weren’t sure if it was because he initiated it, or if something was different. But it made you curious, it made you stop rambling, it made you be still, and let Bob look, because you liked how he was looking at you. 

He smiled, that familiar, bashful, expression, and it calmed you slightly. 

It wasn’t like there was a demon possessing your friend, it wasn’t a dark secret, it was just a part of him that he didn’t bring out at work. His smile reminded you that you knew him, that you trusted him. 

Then his head fell to the side, his eyebrows lowering behind his glasses, his expression turning inquisitive as he said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

It was still Bob. 

But his voice was lower, his voice was softer and you knew that voice, but seeing it fall from petal pink lips was a revelation and you shivered. You pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt down over your palms, hoping you could disguise it, but Bob saw it anyway. 

Of course he did. 

He could calculate projectile trajectories while at supersonic speed; of course he could see when his voice made you shiver. The expression on his face turned smug, and that was new, that was nothing you’d seen before and you were pretty much infatuated with it immediately. 

Objectively, Bob was the best. 

You knew it, everyone knew it. This was maybe the first time you’d seen him look like he knew it, and something like pride blossomed in your chest at the thought that it was because of you. 

“I’m not disappointed,” you said honestly, and Bob smiled fully.

That was how he should always be, you decided, proud of himself, pleased by you. 

He pushed himself off the bed. 

He walked towards you slowly, slow enough that you could tell he was giving you time to back away, or tell him to stop, but you sure as shit weren’t going to do either. 

Instead, your head tilted back as he came to stop in front of you.

“We have two options,” he said, almost conversationally, like you weren’t this close to melting into a puddle at seeing this side of him. “One: I go back to my room; we’ve learned something new today, but we go on like normal. Or–”

“Or,” you chose, not waiting to hear what the second option was. “Whatever ‘or’ is, that’s the one I want.”

It truly didn’t matter; if the choice was him walking out the door or not, you wanted whatever made him stay. 

He huffed an exhale of a laugh, a soft sound that you’d heard a dozen times but it still made your breath catch. You’d grinned fondly when you heard it over comms, after Callie calmly roasted Jake, you’d shivered when you heard it in your headphones, but now that Bob was physically in front of you, you thought this was the best iteration of it. 

“What do you like?” he asked softly, and it felt like a loaded question. 

Like maybe he was asking which audios, or maybe the themes, or if him, in front of you, was enough. The room felt suspended, like someone had paused the film of your life and you could see everything outside of yourself. The heat in Bob’s eyes, the way his fingers, held loose at his side, twitched slightly, like he wanted to reach for you. The way your own breath caught, like you were careful not to break a spell, like you wanted it to never break. 

You kissed him. 

You probably could’ve been more graceful about it, but he was standing just there, and you needed to know, needed to feel him against you. You reached for his arms, your hands grasping above his elbows to pull him down and press yourself closer. 

He was so soft. 

The moment your lips brushed over him, you felt him bending, moving. His glasses bumped into your nose as he adjusted and then his hands were on your waist, spreading over your back and how had you never noticed how big his hands were? They felt huge, and his chest was strong and warm as he pulled you into him. 

You could smell his shampoo, something earthy and sweet, and it was intoxicating how pure it was. He didn’t feel pure. He felt hot, kissing you back with an urgency that stole your breath away. Bob kissed you with certainty, with earnestness, and you were obsessed.

You pulled back, staying in the cradle of his arms, needing to be this close when you answered the question he’d asked. Long lashes fluttered against the tops of his cheeks as you broke the kiss, and Bob pulled in a long breath through his nose. When he opened his eyes, the blue of them was so bright, cutting. You didn’t know how he held it all, his sharpness and softness, gentleness and intention. 

“Can I show you?” you asked. 

He blinked, the motion slow, as he looked between your eyes, trying to focus with you so close. You saw the corner of his mouth turn up in that bashful smile, and his arms around you tightened slightly.

“Show me,” he said, your question but now a command, and your mouth went dry. 

His voice sent a flush of heat over your skin, and whatever he wanted, you’d say yes, for this man who was your friend and your fantasy, and asking you so nicely. 

It amazed you how you didn’t feel nervous. 

This was arguably the most intimate situation you’d found yourself in in a hot minute, but instead of nerves or anxiety, you could only think of how much you wanted Bob to see how much he affected you. From that first moment you’d met him, to the crush you’d packed away, to the voice that haunted your dreams, you wanted him. And you wanted to see how that would affect him. 

You walked over to the sink, grabbing the vibrator from where you’d left it after you cleaned it this morning. Bob walked back over to the bed, taking up his original post at the foot of it, but his eyes never left you. He toed off his sneakers, and you slipped out of your pajama shorts, leaning over to arranging pillows against the headboard. 

You climbed into the bed and rested your back against the pillows, nudging Bob’s thigh with your toes before you bent your knees. He turned himself to face you, his long legs unfolding outside of yours. It was like he was being careful not to touch you, and you liked that this was how it was going to start– just his voice and your pleasure. You hoped once he saw what a tight string was tied between the two, maybe he’d get a little more involved. A part of you wished that you’d deepened the kiss earlier, but it was just as well to have the anticipation of it.  

It was ridiculous that you were already turned on. 

You’d had eight hours to come to terms with the fact that Bob was Rhett, but as he sat across from you, it was like his gaze was scorching you. His bright eyes ran over you hungrily, and you rolled your neck, enjoying being the object of his gaze. 

You’d been bold when you suggested it, but now the silence of the room seemed to stretch. You wondered if you should ask Bob to talk, or if that would be weird. Bob looked at you, his damp hair falling in front of his glasses again, and he brushed it aside absently. 

“Is this where you lay, when you listen to me?” he asked, his eyes tracing over the simple bed, the regulation bedding, the pillows you’d brought in to spruce it up. His voice was low, curious, and now that you were listening for it, you could hear the traces of a drawl, hanging on the edges of it.

You nodded, unable to look away from him, and his nose flared slightly at the confirmation.

“You’re so pretty,” he said, and it washed over you. It was such a simple compliment, but the truth of how he said it, like every fiber of his being meant it, warmed you. 

“God, thinking about you…” he trailed off, “just lying here, looking like this…getting off to my voice…do you touch yourself first? Pet that pussy before you use your toy?”

Your mouth actually fell open hearing Bob Floyd say ‘pussy’ so casually. 

And he said it sitting in your bed, his eyes on you, his voice dropping into a deep drawl and yeah, you were going to do whatever he asked. 

You shifted slightly, a hand falling between your thighs to press over your clothed cunt. You cupped yourself, loving the way Bob’s eyes followed your hand with rapt attention. The kiss, his words, his eyes…you weren’t wet yet, but you could feel your body warming, turning towards Bob. 

“Love that you take your time with your pussy, warm her up, slow. ‘s not a thing you have to rush, not when the building feels so good. And I bet you feel so good, don’t you, so soft and warm…”

It didn’t feel slow, not with how hot Bob’s voice was. How good it felt to have him in the room with you, not just an empty echoing in your ears but physically here. You continued to tease yourself over your panties and you felt when they grew damp, when your arousal slowed your fingers, made the fabric slick.

“Fuck,” Bob breathed, and you whimpered. 

The sound was involuntary, a reaction to seeing sweet, wholesome, Bob swearing over the sight of you. It made you feel regal, and if you had to guess, pulling sounds out of you made him feel the same. At the sound of your whimper, Bob’s eyes dropped to your mouth, and you watched the tip of his tongue push through his lips, as he wet them. 

“Ah, you sound so good, too, I can’t believe–” he broke off, laughing quietly. “Can’t believe I’m jealous of my own damn self. How many times have I made you cum, and I’ve never gotten to see it?”

It was your turn to laugh, not quite willing to reveal how much you listened to BullRiderRhett. 

“That many, huh?” Bob’s voice was smug, and it was such a good sound on him. You ground your wrist over your clit, pressing into the hard bone, craving the friction.

“Take your panties off,” he said, “touch yourself, not the vibrator yet.”

You followed his instruction, pulling up your legs to peel off your panties and resettling. You extended a leg down the bed, pressing inside of Bob’s long leg, as you trailed your hand between your thighs. At the first brush of skin against your sensitive folds, your head tipped back against the headboard. 

It was just your hand, but with Bob here, it felt like it was almost his. It was his bidding at least, and you explored yourself leisurely, dragging your fingers through your wetness.

“Yeah, that’s right, bet you feel so good,” Bob said, his voice so low. “Feel yourself, sweet girl, tell me how it feels.”

You gasped, your hips rising in a pavlovian response to the endearment. It was somehow even more overwhelming when it was Bob who spoke it over you, here, in the flesh. When he could see that your skin prickled, that your breath caught, in response to him. 

“Say it again,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand, and when you looked back at him, the expression on his face was one of adoration and hunger, awe and need. 

“Sweet girl?” he asked gently, but his eyes were so dark. “You like being that for me, don’t you? My sweet, sweet girl.”

You nodded weakly, your fingers suddenly not enough. You rubbed over your clit, trying to stop the truth from spilling out of you as heat fanned out through your body from your touch. 

“Yours,” you corrected weakly, and you scrambled for the vibrator and switched it on, using the intense humming of the toy as an excuse to hide from Bob’s reaction to your admission. 

You felt one of his hands wrap around your ankle, and his long thumb stroked from your heel up to the joint. It was the perfect touch, and just grounding enough to keep you from being overwhelmed by the vibrations. 

“You sound so pretty,” Bob murmured, “those little whimpers you make, fuck.”

Were you whimpering?

You felt like you noticed everything a bit too late, too loud. You realized you were pulling the vibrator over your cunt in a mimicry of the strumming motion Bob’s thumb was tracing on your ankle, and your hips canted up. Pleasure swirled in you, hot and tingling, but you felt something missing. 

“Bob,” you panted, god, how were you already panting, “I need–”

You turned the toy higher and broke off, writhing. 

“Darlin’, love you saying my name like this,” Bob drawled, and it was a proper drawl now, and how he said darlin’ made you feel like you might combust. “Can’t believe I get to see you like this, you look so good…knowing this isn’t your first time working yourself to my voice, makes me so damn jealous.”

You whined, pressing the vibrator more firmly against your skin, your hips starting to grind into it. 

“Tell me,” you asked, your voice reedy, and Bob huffed a laugh, like you didn’t even have to ask. He ran a hand over his thigh, coming to rest at the seat of his sweatpants and you bit your lip as he adjusted himself through the thin fabric. 

“So damn jealous,” he repeated, “thinking how many orgasms I’ve missed. How many times you came when I asked, how those thighs would tremble as you fucked yourself thinking of taking me…fuck, honey, you’ve heard me cum, and I’ve never–”

A moan pushed its way past your lips, as you realized that the groans and grunts and needy noises that you got off to weren’t incorporeal: they belonged to Bob. 

You looked down at the foot of the bed where Bob was watching you greedily. His eyes roamed over your spread legs, the twitches in your thighs, the slackness in your jaw, and you looked at him too. His pale skin was flushed, color in pink splotches high on his cheeks, and his lips were parted. His chest rose and fell as he drew in deep breaths, and when he shifted slightly, you moaned again. 

“Can you touch yourself?” you asked, almost shy, wanting to see him. You felt good, so insanely good, but the thing you’d always loved about the Rhett audios was how much pleasure it sounded like he was getting too. There was something so hot about knowing you were the root of someone else’s desire and pleasure, and you wanted so badly to be that for Bob. 

“You’re gonna have to wait just a little longer, sweet girl,” Bob said, but he ran a hand over the thigh of his sweatpants, adjusting himself again, and your hips bucked up of their own volition. You guessed he was wearing underwear under his sweatpants because you couldn’t see an outline, but the idea of his dick hanging that far down his thigh had your mouth watering. 

“Wanna see you,” you protested, hearing a sound like a pout in your voice and Bob’s hand on your ankle tightened. He looked at you hard, and you knew he was gambling, trying to decide if he wanted to play a card.

“I know, sweet girl,” he said, licking his lips, “but you have to earn my cock.”

Your eyes rolled back and your core clenched at those words. How many times had you heard Rhett tease you with that? But it was different now, because Bob was here. Because he was real, and his cock was real, and however many times you’d wondered about Rhett, your curiosity could be sated in Bob. 

When you lifted your head to look back at Bob, he was slackjawed, watching you writhe. You were practically humping the toy, chasing an orgasm that suddenly felt so much closer. The vibrator felt stronger than normal, or maybe you were more sensitive, but you felt your climax building, and your thighs started shaking. 

“I wanna see you,” you repeated, and it sounded pathetic, but it was true, you did. In a moment, this had switched from getting off in front of your friend to needing your friend’s dick, and you didn’t know how Bob knew it but he did. 

He readjusted his grip on your ankle and before you could react he pulled. 

You slid down the bed, your thighs parting around where he now kneeled; he braced himself over you, and you whined, needing his touch. He kissed you, his mouth wide and plundering, slanting his lips over yours. You moaned into his kiss, so different from the soft gentleness of your first embrace. This was Bob kissing you, and his tongue delved into your mouth and you opened for him. 

“I’m too greedy for that, sweet girl,” he whispered, his lips against yours. “I know if I get between these thighs I’m going to lose myself, and I want to see how much you want it. I wanna be here, fully here, the first time I get to see you cum.” 

He reached down, and you felt his hand trace over yours. You’d nearly dropped the vibrator when he pulled you down the bed, but now Bob tightened your grip, and guided it back to your cunt. You keened as the vibrator pushed between your folds, and Bob followed your lead, wanting to see how you fucked yourself for him. 

It was better with him. 

His strong hand bracketing yours, his other at the back of your neck, holding you steady. His hand was on yours but he brought his face close to yours again, and you drank in the reality that he was here, this close, holding you. His breath was hot against your skin, and his glasses were fogging up from how hard you were breathing. 

“So are you gonna let me see it, darlin’?” he asked against your skin, and that voice, coupled with his touch, nearly had you there. “You gonna come for me, let me see what it looks like when my sweet girl gets off with just my voice and the toy we’re using on her? You’re almost there, honey, I can see it, come for me come on now–”

He sounded so good. 

His voice was perfect and soothing and it felt like a dream but it wasn’t, it was real. He was holding you, feeling you, breathing the same air and working you. You’d never been so aware of your body and how it was tuned towards someone else. You cried out his name as you came, your back arching and your free hand fisting in Bob’s tshirt, reminding yourself he was there, he was there, he was there. 

You felt like you were floating. 

Pleasure coursed through your body and you could feel it pulsing in your fingertips, beating in your heart. You became slowly aware of the room around you. The air felt cold against your sweat-dampened skin, the hum of the refrigerator was the only noise other than your hard breathing. Bob was still over you, and he’d pulled the vibrator away from you, switching it off without really looking, running a soothing hand over your hip. The hand at the back of your neck was firm, holding you tightly so you could feel him. 

“How’re ya doing, sweet girl?” he asked softly, and you felt him press a kiss to your cheek. “Did that feel good?“

You hummed in agreement, words still beyond you. His voice was so gentle, but had a raspy edge, like he was thinking over the last several minutes, holding them in his mind.

“You did such a good job for me,” he murmured, and you turned into his touch.

He was like sunshine, wasn’t he? 

Just warm, and good, and you wanted to bask in him and his light like a dryad. His eyes darted away once he realized you were looking at him, and it made your heart skip a beat, that he could somehow be shy after coaxing you through one of the hottest orgasms of your life. 

You were trying to think of how to say “your turn” in a way that wasn’t corny or cringey, but what you came up with was, “Can we keep going?”

Bob’s eyes snapped back to yours, and the world seemed to pause for a moment, hovering. Waiting, hoping, and Bob’s chin dipped, just slightly, and all was right. 

“Baby,” he said, in the low, perfect, voice, “I’d like nothing more.”

When he kissed you, you were both smiling, somewhat giddy, and any nerves that had gathered during that pause dissipated, as you kissed his smile-thinned lips. 

You shifted slightly, pushing yourself back up the bed and pulling Bob with you. 

He moved easily, his long body spanning over yours, pressing you back into the mattress with the most delicious pressure. His hands were wandering, then, delicate fingers tracing over your sweatshirt, and when he lingered at the hem of it, you pushed him off. You didn’t want to be patient, didn’t want his chivalry, and so you pulled your sweatshirt over your head before you had time to second guess yourself. 

The way Bob looked at you, you wished you’d done it sooner. 

His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as he stared at your chest and you pushed yourself off the bed by your shoulders, so you could reach behind you and undo your bra. The moment the garment fell off, Bob’s hands were on you, his wide palms cupping your breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut at his touch, humming in the back of your throat as his fingers explored you. You felt the bed shift as he moved, and you gasped when a warm breath ghosted over your bared skin. 

Bob kissed down from your sternum, wet kisses over you, and by the time he reached your nipples, he was practically lapping at your skin. You whimpered as his mouth closed over your nipples, his tongue swirling over you as his hand teased your other breast. When he hummed, you felt it all over, the soft vibration over your skin. 

“Bob,” you gasped, and he moaned. 

“Ya sound so pretty,” he whispered into your skin, “somehow better than I imagined.” 

Your breath caught as his mouth moved to the valley between your breasts, and he laved the same attention to the other. He couldn’t have meant that how it sounded. As incomprehensible that this was happening, it was wilder still to think that he had imagined this, as you had. 

“You thought of me?” you asked, your own voice sounding nearly breathless. 

“Honey,” teeth grazed over your nipple, and Bob chuckled, that beautiful low laugh. “Who do you think I’m talkin’ to when I make those audios?”

His lips closed over you again, but the swirling of his tongue wasn’t enough to distract from the words he’d just uttered. 

He wasn’t done, either. 

“Y’know how many nights I’d wondered about the taste of your skin,” he murmured into it, “or what your tits would feel like in my hands? What sounds you’d make when I kissed you, how soft you’d be, everywhere? If you’d cry, or moan, or laugh when you came, or how you’d say my name…” 

Your hand wound back into his hair and you pulled him back up to your mouth. This kiss was desperate, so much unsaid between the both of you. So much longing, so much wondering and now it was here. You couldn’t explore each other fast enough, and you were clawing at his clothing, trying to feel as much of his skin as possible. Bob was just as eager as you were, pulling off of you to shuck off his tshirt and sweatpants, and you reached for his glasses. 

He blinked at you slowly as you pulled them off of him.

This sweet man. 

He was so focused on you, his eyes so intent even as he struggled to focus, and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. You leaned over to place them carefully on your nightstand, and when you came back to the bed, Bob’s arms settled around you in the most comforting embrace. 

You loved the feeling of his skin. 

He was so soft, pale skin covering deceptively strong muscles, and you were obsessed with the dichotomy. Your hands greedily traversed over his broad shoulders, thick biceps, taut stomach, and when you got to the hem of his boxers, you felt his breath catch as he shifted over you. 

Fuck. 

You’d thought it might’ve been a trick of the light, or a trick of sweatpants, some kind of trick, but under your hand, Bob felt hung. Your fingers rubbed over the bulge in his boxers, and Bob’s head dropped to your shoulders. 

“We don’t have to–” he started, and broke off when your touch reached the end of him. You were just tracing the shape of him, but your breath caught when you felt his fat head, the cleft at his tip, even through the thin fabric. 

“We do,” you said, swallowing quickly, not even trying to hide the way your thoughts were racing, “I really hope you have a condom, Floyd, because we really, really have to.”

He huffed, and then he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pushing himself off you and reaching down to feel around the ground for his sweatpants. You loved that he had a condom on him – not because it meant that he was expecting this, but because it just confirmed for you that Bob was the type to look at birth control as shared responsibility, not just a matter of whether a gal took the pill or felt like risking going without. He fumbled for a moment, and you couldn’t help yourself. 

While he was distracted (admittedly, this was probably a task you could have thought of while he still had his glasses on) you leaned over and traced your tongue over his collarbone. He smelled so good, and you could just taste the salt of his sweat. Bob’s breath grew ragged, and you loved the sound of it, kissing up his neck and finding that tempting spot where you could feel his pulse. You loved how frantic it was, loved the steadiness of him. 

He found the condom.

You shifted back to your elbow, watching with blatant interest as he shoved his boxers down his thighs, tore the wrapper open and rolled the condom onto his dick. 

Holy. Shit. 

He looked like a work of art. 

A beautiful flush had worked its way across his chest and throat, the tendons on his arms and hands stood out in stark contrast, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his cock. He really was that big. 

“What is it?” he asked quietly, and your eyes darted back up to his face to find his brows furrowing slightly, since he couldn’t read your silence or your expression.

You pushed yourself up to kneeling on the edge of the bed, Bob still standing beside it, and reached for him. He stepped into your embrace easily, mollified by the shared warmth between your bodies, as you reassured him with soft kisses wherever you could reach.

“I thought it was a line,” you admitted, somewhat embarrassed at how wantonly you’d just been staring at him. “Just a cliche ‘oh, you want to choke on this big dick’, but…but you’re actually, you know…”

Bob smiled, somehow bashful, as you pitched your voice lower in an approximation of Rhett’s drawl. 

“Is that an offer?” he asked, and oh you liked this side of him– teasing, relaxed, a little cocky. 

And the thought of choking on him…it was a really great fantasy. He’d hurt your jaw something fierce, but you wanted to see if you could draw those breathy whimpers out of him. Figure out what your tongue could do to him, see how much he could take, push him a little further, and make him cum down your throat. 

“Honestly,” you said, and yeah, your throat was dry just from the thought of it, “I really want to try that, sometime.”

At your tone or your words, you couldn’t be sure, Bob’s hips pushed forward slightly. With the height difference of you kneeling and him standing, his cock brushed against your ribs. You were both suddenly so aware of him, his thick cock resting between you, and Bob’s hips pushed forward again. 

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, and his hips slid back, slowly. His hands were on your waist, holding you still as he ground against you. Your mouth fell open at the heavy motion, the promise of it, and the duration of it. 

“You’re so big,” you whispered, another truth that should’ve sounded like a cliche, but instead was just a fact. 

“You’ll fit me,” Bob said, with such confidence and certainty that suddenly you didn’t care if it was in your mouth or between your legs, you needed him in you. 

“Please,” you asked, and Bob groaned, actually groaned, like you asking was the best thing he’d ever heard. His hands were so tight on your waist, like he needed that control and you knew how you wanted him. 

You leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips, and then turned back to the bed, your hand sliding up towards the headboard, your ass lifting like an invitation. Bob wasted no time, climbing back over the bed and shifting you so you were lengthwise on the bed again, and then draping his long body over yours. Your head rolled between your shoulders; he felt so good. Warm and strong, and all around you, and then you felt his big hand between your thighs. He opened your thighs gently, and then a thick finger traced between them. 

“So wet,” he murmured, so close to your ear, and you shivered. “You’re gonna feel so good around me, aren’t you?”

You nodded, words failing you in your anticipation. But Bob wasn’t in a rush. His calloused finger teased through your folds, smearing the remnants of your orgasm up over your clit, playing with your cunt, until you were shaking. 

You whimpered, your arms trembling as you braced yourself on the bed. You pushed your hips back into his touch, and you felt Bob’s breath shutter from his chest pressed to your back, but he didn’t move any faster. 

“Don’t rush me, honey,” Bob said, his voice low, and you tried to hold still, you did, but his teasing was too much. 

He alternated between spreading your folds, circling your clit, dipping his finger into you just enough to tease you, then pulling back entirely. You felt like you were aching, desperate for him, needing him. Bob spread you open with one hand, and you felt his thick head at your entrance, seeking. You saw the hand that wasn’t playing with your clit drop down to the bed beside yours as he braced himself, and you pushed your hips back, weakly. 

“Ask me nicely, sweet girl,” he said, his voice so low, and you swear you nearly came on the spot. 

“Please,” you managed, your voice sounding entirely too weak, “please, please, I need to feel you–”

You broke off when he pushed into you. 

A steady, overwhelming pressure as that beautiful, enormous cock pushed into you. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets as he stretched you out, the gentle, even pressure nearly blinding. He was so thick, you felt like you could feel his heartbeat, like you’d been lit on fire, and the only thing you knew you needed was more, more. 

Your head dropped to the sheets, even as your hips worked weakly back into his, welcoming him despite the burn. 

Bob’s hand covered yours, his thick fingers tangling with yours on the bedsheets, and you felt cherished, you felt wrecked, you felt perfect. 

Fuck, he felt so good. 

You were full to the point of overwhelmed, and you realized he’d stopped pushing, was fully seated inside you. You felt so connected, so whole, even though you were heaving like you’d run a marathon. 

Bob‘s nose traced your cheek, his soft lips kissed your jaw as his breath tickled your ear. “Does that feel good, darlin?” he asked. 

You nodded, wordless, it felt like a dream come true. You felt every inch of him in you, every inch of him over you, and it was perfect.  

“So,” Bob whispered, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, “what do you say?”

“Thank you,” you moaned, you’d never been so grateful for anything in your life. “Feels so good, fuck, thank you–”

Bob groaned, and his hips pulled back before he slammed back into you. His thrust would’ve pushed you up the bed, except for his body over yours, holding you steady.  

“Sweet girl, it’s like you don’t want this to last long,” he said, almost angry, and the sound of his voice had your eyes rolling back in your head. He sounded so good, he felt so good, he was so perfect, you were so full… “Like you’re trying to drive me mad with this tight cunt, with those sweet little whimpers, you feel so good, baby.”

You couldn’t do anything. 

You were a molten mess of heat and driving need, your body aching and craving and sated by the thick cock pressing inside of you. Bob was thrusting so deep into you, his fat cock head prodding against a spot you distantly registered wasn’t made up, but might’ve been, for how perfectly he was hitting it. You weren’t aware if you were making sounds or just lying there, all you knew was how fucking good he felt in you, how you needed him to never stop. 

“Feel so full,” you gasped, and Bob pushed into you again.  

“Damn right,” Bob muttered, his voice dark, “full of my dick, like you’re fucking meant to be. Gorgeous girl, bent over, taking my cock like you need it.”

You whimpered, clenching around him. “I do, I do,” you babbled, “need you.”

Bob moaned, and it might’ve been the prettiest sound you’d ever heard. How was he real? How could he be this good, this kind, this fucking hot??

The sounds in the room were dizzying. 

Bob’s hips slapping into your ass, the squelching sounds where you were joined, your gasps and his breathy grunts. It was perfect, and you felt the heat around you condensing in your core. 

He knew, somehow. 

The fingers that had been spreading you for his cock, moved to the top of your cunt, teasing over your clit. Your legs jerked, your mouth dropping open as Bob circled your clit, his fingers tracing over it, gently pinching it and coaxing you higher. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you panted, heat and need rising. 

“Christ, please,” Bob said, his voice so earnest, so dear, as you pushed back into him. “Let me feel it, sweet girl, let me feel this pussy I’ve been dreaming about. Want to feel you milking my cock, so damn good, you can do it, come on…” 

He pumped into you once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out, shaking, and then Bob’s hands were on your waist again, holding you up. You moaned his name, trembling and lost, and he held you, ever steady. He kept working into you, his thick cock pressing into you, like he was the only thing tethering you to this pane, and you felt drunk off of him. 

“There it was, that was beautiful…fuck, you’re so hot, that feels so damn good. You sounded so gorgeous, sweet girl, you did so well…”

You moaned as his words coaxed you back. 

He was still pumping into you, that steady, punishing pace and you were so sensitive but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He felt so strong, so hot, so close to you and you needed it. Needed him. His thick arms cording around you, his strong grip digging into your hips, his fat cock stuffing you, you never wanted it to stop. 

“You’re so good,” you whispered, needing him to know. Not just how he felt, or how he sounded, but who he was. How he was, and how much he meant. 

Bob’s hips stuttered.

You were aching, you were spent, but you tightened your core and clenched around him. 

“Baby,” he groaned, “I’m close you can’t–”

You rolled your hips. 

Bob grunted, and then he was moving, faster than lightning. He swept your hands out, pushing you down by your shoulders into the mattress, his body draping over yours. You turned your head to the side, and like he knew, he was there, kissing you. 

It was sloppy, it was messy, but your lips and tongue tangled together, like you both needed the sweetness of a kiss to balance the savage way Bob’s hips were fucking into you. 

Each press of his hips ground your pussy into the mattress and the pressure was so fucking unreal. You moaned into him, and Bob seemed drunk off the sound, off of you. You were so overstimulated, so out of your body that pleasure was the only thing that made sense. Only the way his hips rubbed your clit into the mattress, only the way his cock was stroking into the deep part of you, only the way he was panting against your lips. 

“You’re everything,” Bob whispered, just a breath away. “So much better, so much – fuck, you feel too good. Will you come for me again, sweet girl? I want to feel it so bad, need another one from you, can you do that for me?”

You shook your head, wrung out, but you felt it building anyways. Fuck, how was that possible? But Bob’s thrusts, the pressure on your clit, the weight of his warm body, the need in his eyes, it was driving you higher. 

And then. 

And then he got close. 

He broke off from the kiss, his thrusts growing almost frantic. Each breath he drew ended on a gasp, a soft whine that reached deep into your gut and set off something primal. He was fucking into you but he was whimpering, and you knew he needed it, needed you, like he said. He moaned, a needy, beautiful sound, and before you could feel his orgasm, yours broke over you. 

You collapsed into the mattress, Bob covering you, and you distantly heard him getting louder as your thighs shook. He sounded so pretty, those sweet moans and the desperate gasps driving you mad. The world was just molten heat, desperate thrusts, echoes of whimpers and you faded into the vacuity of it. 

When you came back, you were on your side. 

You were drenched in sweat, you both were, and a sheet was covering you from the cool room. Bob had taken off the condom, you noticed absently, and had pulled your sheet up over both of you, tucking you into his chest. His arms were warm around you, and when you exhaled, you watched the blond hairs on his forearms blow back and forth.  

“How’re you doing?” Bob asked softly, and you could weep. It was him, so familiar, so gentle, and so much better than any recording, any fantasy, anything. Your arm swung halfheartedly in his direction. 

“You jerk,” you sighed, “you’ve ruined my subscription.” Bob chuckled, the bed shaking with his deep laugh. “Think you can content yourself with the real thing?”

You shifted, turning to face him. In the dim light of the room, he somehow still managed to look like an angel. His soft eyes were unfocused, his mussed hair was snarled from your fingers, and he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. 

You leaned over to kiss him, Bob’s lips already thinning on a smile. “I think I can manage,” you said.

//

tagging: @withahappyrefrain @cheekymcgrath @mxgyver @lewmagoo @sebsxphia @callsign-fangirl @callsignspark @sometimesanalice @daggerspare-standingby @rhettabbotts @teacupsandtopgun @attapullman @yuckosworld @skteaiy @yanna-banana @briseisgone @gigisimsonmars @milesmillergf @katiedid-3 @hangmandruigandmav @3tabbiesandalab @marchingicenotes7 @callsignmedusa @ryebecca @tgmavericklover @cottagecori @becks-things @sorchathered @mulletmcghee @straightforwardly @high-speed-r @rcmupout @purelyfiction @fairyheart @sunsetsimpsblog @angelbabyyy99 @cremebruleequeen @marvel-djarin @sgt-barnesveins @supernaturaldawning @echo-ethe @sunlitide @alilstressyandlotdepressy @hughesvolpe @aczhang777 @saltsicklover

chances are high i'll do a part 2/followup with both of them recording an 'overheard' audio...let me know! comments and reblogs are the surest way to make that happen 💙

[stuffwedoistotallynotillegal]

Hello! I want to say, I just discovered this blog and I love it. Is there a character list of characters you write for or a masterlist?

Hi! I am very MIA lately so i apologize to you and everyone who follows me who has not seen anything from me in a moment. My masterlist kept dying (links stopped working), so I am trying to redo it, but havent gotten around to much on this blog.

I also was thinking of updating my characters i write for and may make a list for that because there are shows and characters I am no longer passionate about or interested in, and new one that I am. For now i've decided:

Characters/shows:

Peaky Blinders: Alfie Solomons, John Shelby, Tatiana Petrovna, Esme Lee (Shelby), Bonnie Gold, Aberama Gold, Ada Shelby.

Marvel: Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Bucky Barnes

American Horror Story: Moira O’Hara, Violet Harmon, Kit Walker, Misty Day

Hemlock Grove: Peter Rumancek, Roman Godfrey

There are characters that I used to write for that I may continue writing for upon request, but I don’t hold a lot of connection to them anymore. I’ll also make a post eventually about writing boundaries. I’ll say right away I wont write dubcon or noncon, even if i had done so before.

[stuffwedoistotallynotillegal]

Clarifications and Welcomes (Blog Update)

Hey, everyone, pretty chaotic times going on in the world. I am relatively safe and I hope you all are, too. I haven’t really been on this blog a lot, and when I have it’s been very sporatic. I tend to just post something and fuck off into the ether for an indefinite period of time, seemingly, so thank yall for allowing that.

I want to reach out and say thank you to everyone! I’ve surpassed the 1,000 follower mark, and I never thought I’d get to that point. I know I don’t write as much anymore or post a lot, and I know that there are some of you who are probably only here and hanging on for updates to WIPs that have yet to be finished/released. I’m sorry for not getting those out.

Ive finished another year of academia, yet again, so hopefully I’ll have some more time to finish projects and write more. I do intend to keep writing, but i have no idea how consistent it will be, people who’ve been around from the start are probably used to that inconsistency (again, bless you for your leniency). I would also like to make some new terms on the blog, which I will probably put on the masterlist when I recreate it or maybe do a q&a post. In the mean time, despite me never posting or checking the blog a lot, I always eventally end up answering things, even if it’s delayed. I try to be as friendly as I can so please don’t feel shy or like you can’t approach me about something. I try to be up front and honest, and I know messages over text can be difficult, but I never intend any answers, no matter how brief, to be taken as a brush-off or rude!

I’d also like to welcome anyone who’s new here. Hopefully you have an idea of what you’ve gotten into by reading the text above lol. Like mentioned above, if you have any questions or something feel free to ask.

Happy reading and good energy sent your way,

Lee

[stuffwedoistotallynotillegal]

Could you please do a Cato Hadley NSFW imagine where his district “buddy” is really shy and innocent. He teases her throughout training because he knows she’s a virgin and on the night before the games they, ya know 👀 Thank you so much

It’s added to the list :)

[stuffwedoistotallynotillegal]

are you doing part 5 to negan 23?

Perhaps. I haven’t been writing a lot, as many can tell. Maybe at some point in the future--especially if it’s requested, but I haven’t been particularly free or inspired to write 

[stuffwedoistotallynotillegal]

A Different Kind; Norman Bates x Male!Reader

Could you please do a Norman Bates x male!reader where the reader doesn’t think that Norman would ever like him because he’s a guy? (Reader is also unaware of Norman’s blackouts, like the half of the town that got straight up murdered)

Warnings: repressed sexuality, homophobia/biphobia, slurs, bullying, profanity, sex, mention of sexual assault/harassment, some minor OC characters for plot

Author/ A/N: this has a long build up, and is kind of bad and angsty until it isn’t (and by ‘bad’ I mean most of the trigger warnings are in the beginning.), in fact, if you are interest in reading this, but don’t want to read the parts with all the traditionally bad triggers mentioned, then under the asterisks is the fluffy love stuff. This might be the longest thing I’ve ever written.

Keep reading

[stuffwedoistotallynotillegal]

A Different Kind; Norman Bates x Male!Reader

Could you please do a Norman Bates x male!reader where the reader doesn’t think that Norman would ever like him because he’s a guy? (Reader is also unaware of Norman’s blackouts, like the half of the town that got straight up murdered)

Warnings: repressed sexuality, homophobia/biphobia, slurs, bullying, profanity, sex, mention of sexual assault/harassment, some minor OC characters for plot

Author/ A/N: this has a long build up, and is kind of bad and angsty until it isn't (and by 'bad' I mean most of the trigger warnings are in the beginning.), in fact, if you are interest in reading this, but don't want to read the parts with all the traditionally bad triggers mentioned, then under the asterisks is the fluffy love stuff. This might be the longest thing I've ever written.

It started when you were young, the toxic air around anything other than heterosexuality. You remember the kids on the playground yelling the godforsaken word at you. The 'g' word. No rhyme, no reason. You didn't understand what it meant until the summer you were fourteen, when you were sitting in the backyard at Jacob Smith's birthday party. By then most kids didn't care what sexuality anyone was, but there were still kids who felt the opposite. You had sheepishly asked what it meant when the discussion was on former president of the mid-1800's James Buchanan's potential homosexuality. It was an odd topic, but somehow that's how the conversation had flowed naturally.

You sat quietly in thought, knowing deep down you had some sort of attraction to boys. Or at least, you weren't repulsed by the thought of kissing one, or marrying one, or... more.

The next school year brought you into the cold grips of highschool, where you found yourself on new, unfamiliar ground. Second semester of freshmen year was your first experience with another boy at a senior's house party. The senior was a Saint of a girl, a cheerleader with the popularity of a popstar, but heart of an elderly neighbor who bakes all the kids on the block cookies.

You had been in the backyard with a sophomore named Connor O'Reilly. The conversation had been fairly deep, you were comfortable talking to him. As you sat in the cool, crisp spring air you dared to look at Connor through the dark. His eyes were on you, and before you knew it you were both leaning in until your lips touched.

Just as you were getting further into the kiss the door slammed open. Out walked the Varsity Quarterback, only a junior. He yelled inside to his friends, then at you and Connor. That was the first time ever being called the 'f' word.

Connor, who happened to live just down the street, bolted, leaving you to deal with the football players on your own. However, the was no way Steph, the cheerleader, would allow one of her freshman babies to deal with the football team on their own. After being ripped a new one by Steph, the jocks shuffled back inside with tails between their legs and blushes stained on their necks and cheeks. You cried in Steph's room the rest of the night.

The next day you were pushed around, but only in places your couldn't be protected. In the lockeroom you were spanked and whipped with damp towels, and one of the seniors made another freshman steal your underwear. The message was clear, so, like any logical kid with nowhere else to turn, you repressed your sexuality.

It didn't stop the abuse.

That summer was one of the best you've ever had. Your family went across the country to visit family, there you met many people like you, forming a few causal relationships. The first time you truly let yourself free, and god it felt great. And when you got back to school you stopped caring. Their words didn't matter to you, didn't cut like they had. You started seeing things for how they were, and how surprising to find that many of you oppressors were people repressing their own issues: sexuality, emotions, homelife. You started responding to their hate with love, and it worked. It worked well on the Quarterback, too.

His name was Mark Thatcher and it was one of his friend's parties where you saw him across the room. Summer had treated him well for his final year in highschool. Earlier in the week he had shoved you into the locker, yelling in your face. You had just muttered back a quiet, calm "It's ok, you'll be ok." He had blinked at you before letting you go and walking away, glancing back once before turning the corner.

He looked good leaned up against the wall, chatting with the coach's son. Mark shifted his eyes around the room before meeting yours and quickly looking to the side. Nearly half an hour later you had walked out of the bathroom and straight into a muscular arm. Mark had stopped you.

"So," he paused "are we doing this or not?"

You looked at him before pulling his face to yours, you let him push you up against the wall and deepen the kiss. It wasn't long before he lead you both into a bedroom. It started off desperate and hot and quick, but as it went on something deep within Mark broke and his actions got rougher. He was muttering slurs that were more self-directed, and you were telling him to stop. You felt tears hit the skin on your back and you pushed him off. He stepped off of the bed and backed himself up against the wall, head in hands and breath erratic as he slid down onto the floor. He was shaky as he sat on the floor and cried.

You got off the bed and walked to him, offering your hand to hold. He pushed you away, not in anger or disgust, but in pain. Pain with himself. You got up and cleaned yourself off, before getting dressed. By the time you were done Mark had calmed down and you helped him clean up and get his clothes on. You offered to let him walk out first and he just shook his head, grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the room. He didn't walk back to the crowd with you though.

The next school day there was a rose taped to your locker with a note reading 'I'm sorry". You never hung out with Mark again, and he never bothered you for the rest of high school.

After that senior class had graduated everything began to run smoothly, you had made new friends, paved new roads for the other kids who were different.

It was an overcast day as you walked down the sidewalk in front a couple shops, ducking your head down as your thoughts swirl through. You glance up to catch eyes looking at you.

After realizing it was Norman, you look back down and tense up, trying to ignore the feeling of your stomach twisting and fluttering with butterflies. You keep walking, not letting your head think too much on how his lips curved upwards when you met his eyes. You continue on your way. 

There’s no need in longing for something that will never happen. 

The next day is when you quite literally run into him. Norman steadied you with a small grin. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” he chuckled. 

“Oh, no!” you interject “I wasn’t either, its just as much my fault.” 

Norman’s smile only grew, “I guess both of our minds are elsewhere, huh?” 

You look down and lick your bottom lip, “I guess.” 

“Nothing wrong with that.” you hear him say, voice soft. 

You bit your lip and look up at him, shaking your head, cheeks pink. “Absolutely not.” 

Norman nodded and stepped to the side, releasing his delicate grip on your arms. You moved on, telling him to have a nice day. He wished you the same. 

You saw him a week later while he sat on a bench at a park just a town over. 

After a day of following Steph around while she was back from University, you finally ended up on a swing with her on another while she talked about her life in higher education. 

“And I just don’t understand how he could think we’re the issue when the entire class is doing poorly! You know? Like, I understand you’re considered an expert in your field, Dr. Smith, but no one else in your class is, so maybe you should consider teaching us better.” Steph ranted on as you looked across the landscape to find Norman’s nose tucked in a book. 

“Anyway, I’m just ranting, I’m so frustrated! I’m sorry, how are you, Y/n?” Steph’s empathetic voice moved your eyes back to her as she lightly swing back and forth. 

You feet were planted under you as you swayed left and right. You nodded to the bench across the way. 

“That’s the guy I was telling you about.” 

Steph’s head shot to the direction, hair whipping in her face. 

“Oh?” her eyes darted to find a person before landing right on Norman, “Oh.”

She slowed her swinging to a stop and stared for a moment, “Okay, I see.” 

You snorted, “What does that mean, Steph?” 

“I mean he’s cute! I understand why you like him.” 

“Yeah, right? It’ll probably never happen, though.” you sigh, kicking a rock to the side. 

“Um? Why not?” Steph had her eyebrows raised as she looked at you.

“I don’t think he like guys.” you shrug. 

Steph stared at you a moment, slack-jawed before laughing. “Dude, he’s literally been sneaking looks at you since we got here. He definitely like you, at least.” 

“Wishful thinking, but thanks.” 

“Are you joking?” Steph reached over and pushed you. “Who wouldn’t? You’re fucking hot!” 

You leaned forward, giggling as Steph nearly lost her balance and fell out of the swing. 

“I’m serious, Y/n! Anyone would be lucky to be with you; you’re a catch.” She said it like it was a straight fact. 

“I miss you, Steph, why’d you have to leave me here? My ego misses you even more!” you jape. 

Steph rolled her eyes and stood up, walking toward Norman. 

“Steph, where are you going!” 

“To the car, loser. Luckily, you’ll have to pass the love of your life to get there.” she walked away cackling. 

You were able to get back to the car with little issue. In fact, you managed to have a brief, pleasant conversation with Norman along the way. Steph couldn’t stop giggling the entire way back, muttering smug “he likes you”‘s to you throughout the whole ride. You just rolled your eyes until you got home. 

Weeks had passed since then and Steph was gone again, but you had managed to have many more pleasant--and not so brief--interactions with Norman in those weeks. You were finally in a place where your face wouldn’t get too red from the interactions. It was fantastic. 

Then the day that changed it all happened. The day Norman asked you out. On a date.

You had nearly spit out your drink when he did it, looking over to him with wide eyes.

“Why?” you asked.

Norman’s brow furrowed, “Because I like you. And I thought that maybe you might like me?” He opened his mouth to speak again, but you beat him.

“I do! And I will! Go out with you, I mean.” You look over to Norman and saw his wide grin, brow still furrowed.

“I just,” you pause a moment before continuing “I didn’t think you, you know. I didn’t think you liked men like that.”

Norman moved closer to you, “Well, I like you, Y/n.”

You looked back to him, eyes drifting about his face before smiling back and speaking.

“Okay. So, what are we going to do on our date?”

[stuffwedoistotallynotillegal]

Heat; Michael Myers x Reader

Michael Myers x Female!Reader

sorry to tag you both in this, but @dashinslashin, your ‘furnace boy furnace boy’ comment in @slasherholic tags was my primary inspiration for this and it got a bit out of hand for me. 

For everyone else who follows this blog and was expecting something different, I’ve been having terrible writers block and have been really busy, and this just came out all at once. 

Warnings: Smut--temperature play, kind of rough in some parts? ; minor profanity

Warmth encapsulated you, the fog in your mind only continued to slow any kind of thought. You sighed, your exhale only warming you further. No matter how fluffed the pillow, or how soft the mattress, you couldn’t find comfort to sleep. 

The heat radiated off of his body in what felt like waves. How were you supposed to sleep when a human radiator was less than an arms length away? His breathing barely audible as you turned onto your side away from him. 

The new position allowed a second’s worth of cold to extract only a fraction of heat from your skin, but it eventually just became another source of warmth that you didn’t need. You flipped on your back again and blinked up at the ceiling, following the small water stains with a bead of sweat rolling across your temple. You sighed again, reaching up to wipe away the droplet and bringing your hand back down to your side with a flop. 

A sharp smack sounded in the air. Oh. 

Oh no. 

You glance down to see Michael’s hand under yours. He must have moved it when you rolled onto your side. You looked up to his form. Nothing was different. He seemed to still be sleeping. 

You gave it a few seconds before shifting again, and then again. You found yourself on you back and as you were about to roll over again you felt a firm, forceful grip on your thigh. Your eyes shot over to Michael just as he began to turn his head to you. His stare and his hand made it clear: Stop moving. 

You swallowed before looking back at the ceiling, completely still. Michael’s hand felt like it was burning as his fingers continued to dig into the expanse of your thigh. The mattress on your back was like a hot plate, boiling you from the inside.  

You looked back to Michael; his eyes were still prodding you, but this time there was more behind his gaze. You woke him up, disturbed his peace--you owe him. Your brows scrunched together to show your exasperation, you just wanted to sleep and to not feel like you’re sat in a volcano. His eyes traveled down to his hand and he squeezed, studying the way he manipulated your skin with his fingers.

Michael was blank as he moved his hand up and in to where your legs meet. 

“Michael.” your tone had warning, but it’s always been clear that he doesn’t care and that he would win anyway. 

He rubbed his knuckle against you.

“It’s too hot for this.” you continued, attempting to pull away. 

His movement stopped and his eyes shot up to stare into yours. Michael removed his hand and shot out of bed fluid and fast. He was out the door and out of sight faster than you could process. 

Once upon a time you would have thought that he gave up, or got angry, and decided to leave you alone. You weren’t that naive anymore. Michael has a plan and all you could do was wait and see how it would go. 

You reached to feel Michael’s side of the bed and shuddered at the heat, how the hell could he be comfortable in that? 

Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was awake the entire time, watching you squirm and turn. 

It’s likely something he would do. 

Your attention was drawn back to the doorway as Michael stepped in with a ceramic bowl in his hands. You could see a vapor rising out. Ice, Michael has ice. He steps closer and you notice the cube clutched in his hand, dripping cold water off of his palm. Michael got onto the bed, hand hovered above you. 

The cool drops caused you to gasp in relief. Michael set the bowl on top of his pillow, letting his other hand heat the ice and send a steady drip across your torso. He watched you with a tilted head before letting the small cube drop onto your sternum. His cold hand moved to bury itself under your panties and caused you to arch up to his touch. 

He reached up with his other hand to take another cube from the bowl. Michael was far from delicate as his hand made its way down your down your neck, between your breasts, and landing at your inner thigh. 

His other hand was still under your panties, running his fingers up and down your slit and letting the coldness of his skin dissipate with the friction of his movements. You grabbed his wrist as he pressed his cold thumb to your clit, jerking the leg he had the ice pressed against. 

You were cooling down in a mixture of the most uncomfortable, but pleasurable way you’ve ever felt. The ice was starting to sting and Michael still had an entire bowl left. 

You let your other hand up to your forehead, covering your eyes momentarily before you reached out to the bowl and took a cube for yourself to use. Michael stared down at you, watching closely as you decided your next move. His stare was daring you to reciprocate. 

You carefully reached up, ice between you fingers as his thumb sped up. You could feel the muscles and tendons in his wrist move as he worked your clit. His other hand moved the ice to your other thigh. You pressed your own cube at his collarbone and slid it closer to the center of his chest, watching tiny droplets collect--watching as they merged together and got too heavy and slid down his chest further and further, rolling over the swells and collecting in the divots of his body. 

You were feeling the weight of pleasure course through you, ready to be released when Michael leaned down and bit the skin at the top of your breast. Your hand flattened on Michael’s chest pressing the ice further onto his skin, your thighs closed on his hand before he pulled them apart again. You shook with your orgasm, shutting your eyes hard only for Michael to send a harsh tap to your cheek. 

Open your eyes. 

He was staring down at you when you did, watching your face as he broke you. The ice you had pressed to his chest had melted completely against his warm skin. Michael continued to stare into your eyes as he withdrew his hands and pulled down his boxers, then reached up and took another ice cube from the bowl. 

You disturbed his peace, so he’ll disturb your night. 

[stuffwedoistotallynotillegal]

could you do a moira o'hara where the reader and her kiss and then things turn steamy? dont worry if not. thank you!

Yes!

[stuffwedoistotallynotillegal]

[stuffwedoistotallynotillegal]

Hey! I really like your fics and wondered if you could do a Norman Bates x Male! Reader that's like based on bdsm? Idk if you do smut, but if you don't just make it steamy 😏😉 make him dom or sub as you wish.

Ok, ok, ok. YES. idk how long it’ll take because I’ve been v slow with writing and I just started school again, so I’ll work on it when I can!

[stuffwedoistotallynotillegal]

Narcissism; Part 7 (end)

Author: Lee

Warnings: mental/emotional manipulation, idk what else

A/N: Last part of this series that's been going on and seldom updated since the beginning of this blog. It's been real, fam. Thanks for tagging along on this journey!

There was more emotion than expected. The glances from across the room, the peeks from around a bookshelf in the library, even the whispered conversations from the other aisle. You’d never thought you’d have any sort of closeness with Michael, yet, with each brush against your back as he passed from behind and each outstretched hand to help you out of the Impala, you noticed that a soft spot was forming in his demeanor when you were around. You weren’t sure if it was guilt from what Lucifer had done or if Michael had actually taken a liking to you.

Maybe he could feel your embarrassment for falling for such an obvious trick. Maybe he just pitied your useless mortal soul for being so naïve and lovesick. Michael hovered over you constantly, and you realized how similar him and Lucifer actually are – at least personality wise. Michael had told you Lucifer used to mimic him, like the younger sibling he is, and probably picked up personality traits that just stuck.

You woke up to Michael knocking at your door, letting you know the long day was starting. Having rolled out of bed, you quickly got dressed and ready, then went out to meet everyone else. People and angels and a very few select demons were going over the plan as you sat and munched on breakfast, you let your mind zone in and your face space out, eliciting a couple nudges from Michael to make sure you were still engaged.

When all was said and done, everyone made their way to the warehouse Dean had chosen for the trap. It would be a long while to wait before it all started.

You were shaken out of your trance by Cas, barely processing his words as he helped you stand up.

“It’s about to start, Y/n. Come on, you need to be ready.”

You stood up and stumbled a bit. You looked around and saw Michael, ready to put himself into an angel trap as a sacrifice to lure Lucifer in. He smiled at you as he saw you walk up next to Ellen and stand. Ellen glanced over at you and softly spoke:

“Are you ready for this?” She inquired.

“I don’t know.” You replied.

“You can step out at any time, honey. He’ll try to go after your mind, but he can’t follow you out.”

You nodded as you looked back over to Michael. He turned his head back toward you and smiled. He could feel your nervous energy as you walked into the trap.

"Hello, water lily." he nodded to the patch on you jacket.

It was a very light pink and white water lily settled over your left breast. The jacket itself was picked up from a thrift store in Oklahoma after a werewolf case cause you to jump into a ravine and completely render the clothes worn at the time un-wearable. You couldn't help but be entranced by the flower when you saw it hidden on the rack among heaps of tacky sweaters and worn jackets. It felt like it was calling to you. That it was made for you to wear. Maybe that was someone else's doing.

You blushed at the nickname Michael had decided to fit you with and instead looked up at him, trying to hid you unease with a small smile.

"Hello, angel." you had meant to give him his own nickname based off an obvious circumstance the way he did, completely forgetting about the softness and meaning of such a name.

Your blush only deepened as his smirk grew.

Angel. Good one.

Before you could embarrass yourself even more, he cupped the side of your face in his hand and caressed your cheekbone with his thumb.

"It'll be okay." he murmured, looking deep into your eyes.

You felt a weight lifted off of you being as he did, feeling enveloped in his presence and safety.

"Do you know the significance of water lilies? The meaning?" he asked.

You wanted to answer, but Dean's voice cut through the warehouse before you could even open your mouth. 

"Alright, lets get this going, the sooner the better."

And with that Michael removed his hand from your face and walked into the trap, followed by nearly everyone else in the room. Gabriel pulled out a scroll and you felt your stomach twist into tight knots. Then you felt it, as he read of the scroll you felt a deep pain. You knew the words of an ancient language was not meant for your ears as they echoed through your head. You covered your ears, but that only built the pressure in your head.

You could barely keep your eyes open to see the others in the room, and eventually opted to keep them squeezed shut. With bones that felt like they were vibrating under your skin, your body lowered itself to one knee on the ground. You felt a hand on your back and your hair smoothed to the side. Michael's voice found its way through the chaos in your head.

"It'll be over soon." 

You could only whimper softly, and he held you closer until suddenly it was over. Like it had never happened.

You slowly stood with the help of Michael and standing in the middle before you was none other than Lucifer himself, staring you down.

"Hello, my love."

Your vision was blocked by Michael standing in front of you.

"It's time to end this, Lucifer."

"Dear, dear brother. You stand between myself and my sweet Y/n" his voice was mocking and your stomach knots were impossibly tighter.

Michael walked forward to Lucifer and you stepped back out of the trap. You looked around. It seemed as though every human in the room was under a trance, staring directly in front of them. No doubt having their minds tampered with by Lucifer. You could feel him trying to pry into your mind with subtle hallucinations.

You could hear a baby crying, you could see shadows out of the corner of your eyes-- just out of focus. There was a piercing scream abruptly interrupted by Michael in the center of the room.

"Y/n come here, we need to finish this."

You felt yourself step forward before someone stood in front of you, blocking your way.

"He's trying to trick you, water lily." It was Michael. The real Michael. "You need to get outside, Y/n. He'll take you to hell with him if you don't."

"What about you? And everyone else?"

Just then you heard Dean's voice.

"Y/n, help!" you looked passed Michael and saw Dean covered in blood, clutching Sam in his arms as Sam lay unconscious."

Michael drew your attention away.

"Everyone else is outside, except Gabriel, Castiel, you, me, and Lucifer. You need to get out, too."

Dean, or the hallucination, let out a sob.

"Y/n please, he's dying. Sammy's dying."

You'd never seen so much pain on someone's face. You stepped forward. Sam is dying.

"Y/n he's playing with your head. Its not real." Michael yelled.

You were immediately snapped out of you trance. You had been convinced it was Sam and Dean. You blinked hard and looked around the room. They weren't in here. No one other than those who Michael had said were there.

"Get out." He pleaded "please."

You looked down to see your foot only millimeters from the trap. You backed away and turned, walking to the door that was only opened by a crack. You slowly made your way to it, ignoring the feeling of being preyed on.

Don't look back.

Don't look at what's not there.

"Your mind is fragile, Y/n." Lucifer bellowed.

Just then a section of the roof caved in and fell directly in front of you. You stopped with a strained gasp as you heard Cas.

"It's not real, Y/n, keep walking."

You put your foot out and felt the debris. It was real.

"Y/n, stop believing it's in front of you." Michael called.

You closed your eyes and stepped forward, surprised to find that nothing obstructed your path. You took a few steps forward before opening your eyes and seeing that the roof was still above your head, the door only a few strides away.

You heard Gabriel start up whatever language he was speaking before. You ran to the door. Ignoring how the doorknob turning glowing bright orange with heat when you swung the door open. It wasn't actually hot, just pretending to be.

You walked down the entrance steps and to Dean who was leaning against the Impala, his thumb between clenched teeth as he met your gaze. You stride to him trying to get your mind to stop racing. All you could feel was your heart pumping faster that normal and you thoughts clustering at rapid speeds.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked.

His voice sounded muffled and distant, like you were underwater. Your eyes closed and your head met Dean's shoulder as your body leaned forward, the dull ringing in your ears turned to shrill screams as you thoughts stopped. The cool breeze that coiled under your nose chilled deep within and caused your eyes to snapped open.

You looked around, noting you were in the back of the Impala. The sun was slowly drifting down the horizon. Dean was still leaned up the side of the car, staring at the warehouse with an intense gaze.

Gabriel had just walked out, giving a curt nod to Dean before walking off. It was then when you noticed the lack of people there. You had guessed that they all went home. As far as you knew, Castiel was still in the building with Michael and Lucifer, and it was just you and Dean left outside.

You shifted your position and leaned your head against the window before closing your eyes again, only to be jolted by a low rumble that vibrated the glass of the windows. Lifting yourself up, you looked to Dean who pushed off the Impala and stepped forward.

From the warehouse came a bright light that disappeared as soon as it shown. The door once again swung open and you were relieved to see Michael and Cas stride out briskly. Dean stopped them both, saying something you couldn’t quite catch before stepping aside and letting Cas and Michael into the car.

The sky was dark with the fresh dusk that led the blackness of night. Michael had sat in the back with you, his eyes barely drifted from you as you looked back. He wanted to say something, but it seemed like for once he was at a loss for words. Finally, he glanced down to your jacket, smiling as he studied the water lily.

“Water lilies represent enlightenment and rebirth, their symbolism seems to only have positive connotations, according to humans.” Michael let a small smile inhabit his face, “A fresh start.”

You nodded, laying your head on his shoulder as he grabbed your hand.

“A fresh start.”

[stuffwedoistotallynotillegal]

Speedy McGreedy; Pietro Maximoff x Reader

GIF not Mine

Author: Lee

Warnings: fluff, profanity, Pietro talks about his experiences in HYDRA,

It was a lazy day – the of laziest days. You slid around the hard floors of the compound in your socks. Grabbing up some fruit as you passed through the kitchen. It was only just then that you had gotten out of bed, and you had full intention to get immediately back in. It wasn’t until you had made it to the threshold to make your way back to your room that a rush of slightly cologne scented air brushed by you. You looked up to see Pietro smirking down at you.

“Hello.” you greeted.

His smirk grew into a smile.

“Hello, love.” he replied softly.

You hardly registered the pet-name he gave you as you reached up and pat his chest, stepping passed him towards your room. He turned his head to watch you go, furrowing his brow at your lack of response: usually Pietro could make you blush a deep red with his names. You were too tired to care about be flustered by the Adonis in front of you.

Instead you trudged on to you room taking a quick bit out of your fruit. Pietro looked back into the kitchen to see Clint watching with a toothy smile, letting out a loud chuckle at the situation. Pietro shook his head then sped to the threshold of your room just as you were closing the door. He reached out to hold the door, quietly asking what was wrong in his native tongue.

You glanced back, muttering “just tired” back in the same language. 

Pietro frown before stepping closer to the threshold. You glanced back and threw him a lazy smile, seeing he lined up his toes to the line where the hallway ends and your room begins.

“You may enter.” you told him in English.

He smiled and nodded, taking a dramatic step into your room. You sat on the edge of your bed before laying down. Pietro stood awkwardly before you reach out your hand for him to hold, pulling him down with you when you got a hold. You didn’t care about normal social interaction within your exhaustion.

Pietro fell onto the bed with a surprised ‘oof’, laying stiff as you closed your eyes. He was on his side facing you, bringing his hand to moved some hair off of your face when he noticed your face scrunch up.

“What’s wrong, love.” his voice was soft and he rubbed his thumb across your cheek.

Keep reading

[stuffwedoistotallynotillegal]

Speedy McGreedy; Pietro Maximoff x Reader

GIF not Mine

Author: Lee

Warnings: fluff, profanity, Pietro talks about his experiences in HYDRA,

It was a lazy day -- the of laziest days. You slid around the hard floors of the compound in your socks. Grabbing up some fruit as you passed through the kitchen. It was only just then that you had gotten out of bed, and you had full intention to get immediately back in. It wasn't until you had made it to the threshold to make your way back to your room that a rush of slightly cologne scented air brushed by you. You looked up to see Pietro smirking down at you.

"Hello." you greeted.

His smirk grew into a smile.

"Hello, love." he replied softly.

You hardly registered the pet-name he gave you as you reached up and pat his chest, stepping passed him towards your room. He turned his head to watch you go, furrowing his brow at your lack of response: usually Pietro could make you blush a deep red with his names. You were too tired to care about be flustered by the Adonis in front of you.

Instead you trudged on to you room taking a quick bit out of your fruit. Pietro looked back into the kitchen to see Clint watching with a toothy smile, letting out a loud chuckle at the situation. Pietro shook his head then sped to the threshold of your room just as you were closing the door. He reached out to hold the door, quietly asking what was wrong in his native tongue.

You glanced back, muttering "just tired" back in the same language. 

Pietro frown before stepping closer to the threshold. You glanced back and threw him a lazy smile, seeing he lined up his toes to the line where the hallway ends and your room begins.

"You may enter." you told him in English.

He smiled and nodded, taking a dramatic step into your room. You sat on the edge of your bed before laying down. Pietro stood awkwardly before you reach out your hand for him to hold, pulling him down with you when you got a hold. You didn't care about normal social interaction within your exhaustion.

Pietro fell onto the bed with a surprised 'oof', laying stiff as you closed your eyes. He was on his side facing you, bringing his hand to moved some hair off of your face when he noticed your face scrunch up.

"What's wrong, love." his voice was soft and he rubbed his thumb across your cheek.

"Have you ever been so tired," you mumbled "that your head started to hurt?"

You opened your eyes to see his face solemn, "I do."

You looked into his eyes, wrapping your hand around his wrist as he continued to brush along your cheek with his thumb.

"That was a silly question." you admitted.

Pietro gave a light smile, "It was a good question."

You stared at him a minute before your tired brain decided it wanted to push the limits.

"I wanna ask-"

"About what it was like?" Pietro finished for you.

Your eyes turned guilty and Pietro scooted closer to you.

"It was hell." he started "when it first started," he paused, looking for his words, "it was the most painful thing I have ever experienced. It was like I could feel my body mutating, changing my DNA. I remember laying on the shitty cot they gave me for a bed; I was drenching my sheets with sweat, shivering like I was stranded in the arctic, but my body felt like it was strapped to a funeral pyre.

"When my body started changing on more levels, my metabolism went out of whack," He chuckled at the memory, but there was a hint of bitterness in the tone "I was starving, literally. They wouldn't raise my food ration until a doctor chewed them out, but that took months after my metabolism got faster. After that it didn't get better, they practically force fed me supplements to avoid emaciation along with all the other natural nutritious foods, which weren't all that bad, actually--I just didn't like be on lock down and made to eat more than I actually needed.

"When my body started getting faster it was hard to control. I had spasms all the time. I'd be at one end the room and when I blinked I'd be at the other side, I just couldn't control what my body did." he stopped, looking into your eyes. He had looked lost before, but suddenly it was like he saw you through the dark, "I would break things, my muscle strength developed even more than it already had. It was like going through puberty again." He chuckled.

You giggled along with him, and his face instantly brightened as he looked at you. You moved even closer, allowing Pietro to wrap his arms around your waist and bring you in.

"I think the worst part," he spoke "was not knowing what Wanda was going through. Sometimes I would hear her whimpers, I couldn't do anything for her. Sometimes it seems like I still can't."

He had tears swimming in his eyes, and you reached up to cup his face. You don't say anything, just let him feel his emotions until he was ready to move on.

"It was hell." Pietro concluded.

By now your noses were almost touching.

"I want to stay here all day, with you." he murmured, eyes glancing down your face.

"You gonna keep me hostage, speedy?" you tease.

"Maybe."

You took a moment to take him in.

"I'm sorry it all had to happen to you, Pietro."

Pietro ran his hand along your eyebrow; you took the initiative and pressed your lips to his.

His eye burned into yours as you pulled away. You lightly scratched along his stubble, relishing in the way Pietro pulled your bodies closer until there was no space left.

"If it's worth anything, I want you to stay here all day, too."

"I guess we're both just greedy, then." he laughs, eyes crinkling and bright, but still watery.

"Speedy McGreedy, that's your new superhero name."

Pietro rolled his eyes, "I just want to let you know right now that you are the only person who I will allow to call me that, and if it leaves the room or gets to Clint or Wanda then you're gonna be in trouble."

He ended his rant with a quick kiss before you giggled and burrow your head into the crook of his neck.

[stuffwedoistotallynotillegal]

I want kinky bates motel stories please

Idk why, but this really got me. Like, imma take your request and do what I can when I have time to, but this made me giggle real hard, mate. I love the abruptness 👌

[stuffwedoistotallynotillegal]

Where’s your masterlist?

It had a history of glitching out, so I deleted it with intentions of rebuilding. Sorry to say that I haven’t had time to redo it, or even do much writing either. If you have any specific parts to a fic you are looking for then I can probably link them through ask or send them through message!

[stuffwedoistotallynotillegal]

hi xuxu, how are you? i hope everything is fine! so i just started this blog for imagines.. i'm brazilian and i was thinking if i could translate one of your imagines (or more than one haha) to portuguese and post it on my blog, giving you the credit, of course... if i can't, it's fine too! thank you ❤ ps: xuxu "kinda" means honey in portuguese, i said kinda bc it doesn't have a specific translation, but it's something cute, i promisse

Yes, as long as proper credit is given then I am fine with you translating my fics. I think that would be really cool!