#Polaroid logo

[30ahchaleh]

🤗 تقدیم به باباهای "پولاروید" دار

📸🖨

Polaroid logo

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فک کنم این آخرین عکس پولارویدی من باشه اونهم با لباس سرخپوستی

🤪

نمیدونم اینجا چند سالمه 😅

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دورببن آقا کیومرث

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دوربین آقا رضا

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🥺

. Nostalgia _ نوستالژی .

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[dadaonice]

Lacoste x Polaroid

[azzibuckets]

Okay but can we get a blurb about Azzi being in Montana before her and she wakes up to P getting home and sliding into bed trying not to wake her

sappy and sleepy [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: anon i tried to incorporate as many of your requests as i could! thank you for this prompt it was super fun to write

word count: 1.2k

masterlist

As soon as her hand twisted the doorknob and the door creaked open, Azzi’s heart ached. She swore she could smell the lingering scent of Paige’s perfume, even though the rational part of her mind knew that Paige hadn’t stepped foot in the room for almost an entire year.

Although Paige hadn’t grown up in this room, her mom had it reserved for her when she came back during the summer, giving her daughter the liberty to decorate the space however she liked. And now Azzi appreciated it more than ever, because looking at the posters plastered with UConn greats and husky logos felt as familiar to her as home. Now only one thing was missing.

Azzi flopped on the bed, tired from the plane ride over. She cursed when she realized she’d forgotten her charger at home. Hopefully Paige had a spare one, she thought as she started rummaging through the drawers of her beside cabinet. As soon as she opened the first drawer, though, a polaroid fell out.

Azzi’s heart doubled in size when she flipped the polaroid over to find a photo of herself from the Minnesota state fair from two summers ago. In it, she was holding a cone of ice cream, chocolate sauce dripping all over her fingers. Tucked under her elbow was the stuffed animal that Paige insisted on winning for her every year (and Azzi never got tired of it). She had been smiling hard, her eyes crinkled as she stared past the camera. Shaking her head, Azzi snapped a photo of the polaroid.

💗: You’re such a sap

💗: Attachment: 1 Image

bighead: ?? where did you find this.

💗: In your drawers

bighead: when did i give you permission to go through my things🤔🤔🤔

bighead: and im taking this as a sign you got home safe?

💗: You’re not distracting me from the fact that you creepily have photos of me all over your room

bighead: youre being so dramatic

bighead: and you can’t blame me

bighead: i always miss you so much

bighead: now you know what it’s like to be in montana all bored without ur gf

💗: Don’t say that. You have your family

bighead: you’re my family

💗: Tell me that when you put a ring on it

bighead: oh i will

Azzi bit her cheek, trying not to beam from Paige’s text. “Azzi! You ready for lunch, hon?” Amy’s voice called from downstairs. Azzi stuffed the polaroid back in the drawer and clambered down to the kitchen.

“Hey, Amy. Thank you again for letting me stay,” Azzi said, going in for another hug.

Amy airily waved her hand, leading Azzi to the dining table. “No worries at all. We‘ve got a lot of exciting stuff planned for this week. Mini golf tomorrow with the kids, then this new restaurant is opening up on Tuesday and I thought it would be a nice date night for you and Paige so I already made a reservation for the two of you!”

Amy continued talking excitedly about their stay at Montana, and Azzi appreciated it, she really did, but she was also exhausted from the plane ride and all she wanted to do was be in Paige’s arms after way too much time apart. The ESPYs photos that Paige had posted an hour ago didn’t help either. Her girlfriend had looked so damn good, her hair up in that style Azzi loved, and Azzi had spent more time than she was willing to admit staring at the photo, wanting to run her hands through that hair.

Later that night, Azzi put on Love and Basketball on her laptop as she got ready for bed. Paige couldn’t facetime because she was at a party, but Azzi still wanted a little piece of her girlfriend with her before she fell asleep, just a little something to make her dreams a little sweeter.

💗: Attachment: 1 Image

💗: Heard you liked this movie??

bighead: you miss me SO much

💗: I do

bighead: then i got some good news ;)

💗: What

💗: Paige?

💗: Helloooo

💗: I’m not gonna repost your espys post.

bighead: oh hey i’m back😁

💗: You’re a fucking idiot

bighead: wait can you repost the second slide i look the best in that one

💗: Tell me the goddamn good news

bighead: Attachment: 1 Image

bighead: flight leaves in 1 hour!!

💗: Wait I thought you had a morning flight?

bighead: well the shoot tmr got canceled and i missed you too much so…..

💗: You’re wasting all your money booking these last minutes flights.

bighead: you dont gotta worry about me baby

💗: 🙄 Text me when you’re home and I’ll let you in

bighead: no don’t stay up baby i won’t home until like 3 am

💗: I wanna see you

bighead: $10 you’re gonna be crashed out

💗: I guess you’re gonna be spending all your money today then

••••••••••

“She’s asleep, isn’t she?”

Amy wrapped her daughter in a hug. “Don’t you dare wake her up.”

Paige shook her head. She was slightly disappointed she wouldn’t be able to talk to Azzi tonight, but she was glad the younger girl was getting her rest. She slipped into the room as quietly as she could, her heartbeat speeding up as soon as she saw the lump on the bed.

Kneeling down, Paige brushed her fingertips over the crease in Azzi’s forehead, trying to smooth over the worry lines. Azzi looked ethereal in her sleep, the moonlight from the window casting a glow over her face and illuminating the sharpness of her jaw and the pinkness of her lips. Paige pressed a light kiss on her cheek, trying to be as gentle as possible, but before she knew it, Azzi was stirring.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open. “Paige?” she groaned, hands going to rub her eyes.

Paige smiled guiltily. “Hi, baby,” she breathed out. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, it’s okay.” Azzi reached for Paige, still half asleep, and Paige sat at the edge of the bed and let her girlfriend nuzzle her face into her stomach.

Paige ran her fingers through Azzi’s hair, marveling at how she managed to smell so good all the time. “Is now a good time to say that you owe me $10?” she whispered.

“Shut up,” Azzi whined, her fingers jabbing at Paige’s ribs but failing to do much damage with her sluggishly lethargic movements.

Paige chuckled before brushing one last kiss against Azzi’s temple. “I’m gonna get ready for bed,” she said softly. “I’ll be right back.”

“No.” Azzi’s voice was surprisingly demanding considering how sleepy she was. “You woke me up, now you’re staying.”

Paige rolled her eyes. She hated the idea of getting into her sheets while in her dirty airport clothes, but once Azzi’s hands clutched tighter around her waist, she knew she was a goner. Sighing, she slipped under the covers with her girlfriend. Azzi happily burrowed herself in Paige’s chest, weaving her leg between the blonde’s. Her hand slipped up Paige’s shirt and rested there, palm on her abdomen, and Paige shivered at the bare contact.

“I really did try to stay up,” Azzi whispered, already falling asleep again.

“It’s okay. Go back to sleep, hm?” Paige tightened her hold around Azzi. The last two weeks had been ridiculously fun, getting to see Nika again, going to partnership events, and presenting at the ESPYs, but this was by far her favorite part - when she and Azzi were so tangled up, every part of their bodies interwoven, their limbs and hair and even the beating of their hearts connecting, it felt like they were breathing as one.

[bagelzest]

ok I've been writing down every code I could find and what they do for thisisnotawebsitedotcom in my notes app so here's what I've found so far:

• tjeckleburg - NEVER MENTION THAT NAME AGAIN

• bill - eye of providence wiki page, then sesame street jazzy triangle meets a square square (same result with cipher)

• bill cipher - triangle wiki page

• weirdmageddon - gravity falls gossiper newspaper

• soos - letter from soos

• pinata - bill piñata gettin beat

• mabel - stickers on everything till 'LAB NOW FULLY MABELIZED'

• dipper - note from bill telling dipper to stare at the sun for 13 hours, enter multiple times for a retina burning sim

• mason - letter from dipper

• pines - A GOOD FAMILY TREE

• stan + stanley - brass knuckles ebay search, keep entering to get wheel of shame page

• ford + stanford + sixer- ford's polydactyly diagnosis + report

• pacifica - letter from pacifica

• wendy - note from wendy

• waddles - pigplacementnetwork.org

• gideon - sweat resistant bolo ties google search

• fiddleford - cotton eye joe mv

• dippy fresh - burger king kids club r/nostalgia

• axolotl - YOU ASK ALOTL QUESTIONS

• tad strange - bread slicing

• alex hirsch - flannel google search

• blendin - TIME AGENT LOST AND PRESUMED INCOMPETENT

• robbie - text chat between robbie and Thompson, pic of them being taken by bill

• gravity falls - NEVER HEARD OF IT

• mystery shack - confusion hill

• blind eye - eye test, colour code at bottom- euclmjiannrepttgccvisignnsupervisionn I think?? EDIT wtf was I on that is obviously not what it says

• reality - IS AN ILLUSION

• the universe - HOLLOGRAM

• deer teeth - FOR YOU, KID!

• fuck - I get told to wash my mouth out with soap :(((

• book of bill - HIDE IT UNDER SHIRT DURING PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE

• giffany - enter multiple times, computer tries to block, SOOS, I STILL LOVE YOU, giffany appears on screen, downloading file IM NEVER LEAVING! file has all her sprites, a doc called ILL ALWAYS BE WITH YOU SOOS which is text in the shape of giffany

• euclydia - DIMENSION NOT FOUND

• portal - PORTAL.EXE HAS BEEN DELETED. I BET YOU COULD BUILD ONE

• toby determined - google search restraining order

• journal 1 - THE JOURNAL OF FUN

• journal 2 - THE JOURNAL FOR YOU

• journal 3 - THE JOURNAL FOR ME

• babba + disco girl - recording of dipper singing and listening to babba

• gun - OH YES OH YES OH YES THEY BOTH

• abuelita - best vacuum for walls and ceilings yt vid

• weird - weird al trapped in the computer

• xyler + craz - jem and the holograms theme song yt vid

• triangle - TRI HARDER

• theraprism - blue sign - IN CASE OF [the old one] DO NOT USE ELEVATORS

• yes - WHAT'S MCGUCKETS FAVOURITE SODA? (I tried putting in pitt cola and variations and nothing worked)

• no - YOUR LOSS...

• vallis cineris - creepy vid of baby bill held by static parents with voice saying why did you do it

• disney - RAT.GIF CENSORED FOR YOUR PROTECTION

• love + marry me (don't worry about how I discovered that) - pic of the love triangle book, click it and it plays an audio audiobook of it

• death - LIFE'S GOTH COUSIN

• life - LIFE: 72% COMPLETE. NOW LOADING: DEATH

• blanchin - how to blanch vegetables yt vid

• divorce - o' sadleys logo (aka the bar bill was at after "losing sixer" oh my GODDD)

• season 1 - SEASON -1: ANTIGRAVITY FALLS

• season 2 - SEASON 1

• season 3 - SEASON 2

• help me + save me + god - vid of axolotl swimming infront of a little bill statue

• ad astra per aspera - 2 journal pages starring ford and mabel, pls read them it's so good

• trigonometry - bill's attempt to have plato build the portal

• cray cray - mental health wiki page

• who are you - I COULD ASK YOU THE SAME QUESTION

• lies - bill talking about lying and nerds

• morality - fun game!

• R34LITY - henchmaniacs polaroids

• ducktective - DUCKTECTIVE STARS IN "LOVE, QUACKTUALLY" COMING TO: "OI, ITS THE COCKNEY CHANNEL INNIT?" THIS FALL

• question - ANSWER

• answer - QUESTION

I'm editing this post when I find new ones, feel free to add any you find!! please look at the replies to this post because people have found more codes!!

EDIT I'm probably done with updating this list, these are just the ones I found after goofing around on the website for 4 hours. other people have definitely made lists of all the codes found so far so make sure to check them out !!

[n4391]

Who are you saying yes to...? New HSR Wedding merch set available now! Each acrylic standee comes with a polaroid print during P.O.s! Shop link is on the Kohi Bean Shop logo on my blog ^^

[six-eyed-samurai]

MODERN DAY LOVER BOY

SUMMARY: April Fools Day Special with the JJK Men in Alternate universes! A/N: Happy April Fools everyone WARNINGS: None

Tattoo artist! Geto Suguru who casually tells you he'll give you a free temporary tattoo for "today's promotion for pretty girls", but when you get home and peel off the bandage he's written his number there

Tattoo artist! Geto Suguru who, once you've made it official, makes you both matching couple tattoos - not necessarily a heart and your initials, but rather the logo of the cafe you guys had your first date at stylized to become the both of you

Tattoo artist! Geto Suguru whose customers ask him who the woman in his latest art selections are and it's you (he's not afraid to flex about it)

Tattoo artist! Geto Suguru who rarely had off days because that parlour was his life, but you breathed a new meaning to it and now he closes the store with the money he carefully stored over the months for a quick vacation with you

Tattoo artist! Geto Suguru who just has to look at all the photos or selfies or whatever it was that had caught your eye you constantly bombard his phone with to get inspiration for his next art. He's been called a king at what he does but you were a goddess of art itself.

***

Guitarist! Gojo Satoru who spots you in the crowd as he drums, a surprised look in your eyes and upon your once irritated face at how your best friend had dragged you here as he stuns you with his skills

Guitarist! Gojo Satoru who secretly hopes you would show up after the show for an autograph, who's over the moon when he discovers the person you're with has backstage passes, if only to meet his bandmate Geto

Guitarist! Gojo Satoru who adds in smaller writing his number to the poster you ask him to sign, and in fact gives you an autographed Polaroid of himself for free and with a sly smile while the rest of his fan girls groaned in jealousy

Guitarist! Gojo Satoru whose first date with you is to a karaoke and teaches you drums, showering you with whatever you want with his money - that premium gelato? Sure! VIP room? Why not! Nothing but the best for the true idol in his eyes.

Guitarist! Gojo Satoru who from then on always dedicates his songs to a "my pretty muse" that no one knows, except he always engages in eye contact with you

***

Piercer! Yuta Okkutsu who smoothly, kindly comforts you when you start having doubts about your piercings, assuring you it would only hurt for a moment and he'd never dare to cause suffering to such an angel

Piercer! Yuta Okkutsu who claims it's a free gift but hands you a box of heart shaped earrings with his number scribbled inside and a nervous ask out to coffee sometime

Piercer! Yuta Okkutsu who's now the reason you somehow ended up with two more piercings at the top of your ears, him hopefully suggesting you could match with him

Piercer! Yuta Okkutsu who can't stop blabbering about his beautiful girl to his other customers, leaving them forgetting about the uncomfortable stings and wondering who such a beauty would be

Piercer! Yuta Okkutsu who gifts you the engagement present in the form of custom designed earrings with both your initials in it, be decked wth your favourite colored gem

***

Graffiti artist! Inumaki Toge who, in his pining stage for you, started spaying a hell lot of red and hearts and Cupid's arrows into his artwork

Graffiti artist! Inumaki Toge who had no idea you were a fan of his work...and was extremely flustered to find out you discovered his not so secret crush on you when you saw the love song quotes spray painted under a painting of someone who looked suspiciously too similar to you

Graffiti artist! Inumaki Toge who helps you sneak out of your bedroom at night after throwing pebbles at your window and both of you run off on skateboards to colour the streets the same bright shades of your teenage love

Graffiti artist! Inumaki Toge who wasn't good at apologising after fights or misunderstandings, so he borrowed others' words to quote and paint somewhere he knew you'd see, with a bouquet of wildflowers left there if you did happen to actually see it in the flesh

Graffiti artist! Inumaki Toge whose biggest artwork was not the bridge he had covered with slogans last month but in fact, the gigantic canvas of you and him racing into the night with streaks of spray paint exploding behind you

***

Ghost Hunter! Yuuji Itadori, the self acclaimed "Myth Buster", who went around to various most haunted places in his hometown to explore and prove that in fact, ghosts DO NOT EXIST, which he kept trying to convince you, his skeptical one-man camera crew, of, although your ongoing bet was that if he could you'd give him a kiss

Ghost Hunter! Yuuji Itadori who was often requested to do rituals or demon summons to provide evidence for his theories that "ghosts" were just people's imaginations being sparked up by even the most mundane of things by fear, but one of the reasons he really refused was because he didn't want anyone else butting on you and his time - besides, ain't no way was he using you as a sacrifice

Ghost Hunter! Yuuji Itadori who finally works up the courage to confess that he wanted to take this friendship to higher levels ironically on Halloween...even more ironically after he grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the haunted house screaming.

Ghost Hunter! Yuuji Itadori who declared himself your lucky charm against the supernatural and promises that he'll protect you from whatever came from beyond the grave (he didn't believe it ghosts but sure did in protecting you) and used the excuse to stay over at your house at night

Ghost Hunter! Yuuji Itadori who tells you in the spookiest way possible to meet him at the latest haunted expedition, but when you get there it's all set up with fairy lights, a movie and a picnic to celebrate your one year anniversary as a couple

[wellnoe]

This is aperture au: an AU made up by Will (@boo-cool-robot, who did most of the plot and writing) and me (visuals) where Magneto takes a teen Scott in before Xavier, and Scott’s subsequent radicalization causes him to undergo a schism with x-men leader/lover jean after he eventually joins the team. Because if you really love characters, you just want them to have an ideological divorce! 

The au is named after the code-name scott is given by magneto, which he returns to after the events of this comic (Aperture–like an opening for light to pass through, a focus in a lens.) 

[Image description: Full color comic. Whole comic has a layout where each page has 3 columns. Jean is in the left column, and scott is in the right.

Page 1

Panel 1: Scott and Jean explore a grim, industrial, apparently abandoned basement lab. Jean inspects a peeled back vent cover. Scott bends down to open a filing cabinet drawer. Jean: "This is too clean to have been opened by a crowbar. Almost looks like how I would have used my TK a few years ago."

2: Scott leans back, back of his fist to his mouth in shock. He says: "Marvel Girl, you need to see this. Use my eyes. Please."

3: Jean turns, using her telepathy to look at the file Scott has found. Her telepathic eyes see what he sees. There is a Polaroid of young Scott and Alex. Alex smiles at the camera, while Scott holds his brother and glances away. Alex's file describes him as 'Yearly tag and release'.

The other page in the file has a letterhead reading “Home for Foundlings” and a logo depicting an abstract parent and child, forming a red diamond shape. Cut-off text reads, “Summers, Scott/Seong-Mi/S-...Impaired expressive speech and sound sensitivity worsened after 3 days of social ostracism from peers…electroconvulsion. Energy generation potential unaffected. Continued social impairment, likely auti…”

Scott has already turned toward a door, frowning. 

4: Jean puts a comforting hand on Scott’s shoulder while he turns away from her. Scott (Telepathically): "I used to remember having a brother. He told me I was just confused, that I’d imagined him." Jean (Telepathically): "Who told you that?"  Scott reaches to open the door. Scott (Out loud): "I don’t know, it was all…"

5: Scott, quietly: "Sinister."

They have stepped through into the next room, where Mister Sinister’s silhouette looms in the foreground, breaking the barriers between the three columns. Jean puts her arm out in front of Scott to shield him. Scott has shrunk in on himself. 

Page 2:

Panel 1: Scott has his arms crossed. Jean, glowing with telepathy, puts a hand next to Mister Sinister’s head where he lies between scott and jean. Jean: "He can’t hear us. He’s in some kind of psionic trance. His body is here, but his mind is on the Astral Plane."

2: Scott: "So he’s vulnerable." Jean is startled: " What?" Scott: "We could end him here. Before he gets to-- anyone else. Before he gets to Alex again." 

3: Jean’s telepathy flares, she is confused, but stubborn. Jean: "We’re X-Men, we can’t just kill someone defenseless. We won’t get anything out of him if he’s dead." Scott faces her, angry and disbelieving. Scott: "You really think if you [Telepathically: implicate, integrate] ask him, he’ll say anything that those files out there don’t?"

A figure approaches through the open doorway, obscured by Jean and Scott’s world bubbles.

4: Jean’s telepathy flare is the strongest yet. She is hurt, beseeching. she says: "The Professor taught us to give people chances. He gave you a chance when you joined the team." Scott is quietly angry. Scott: "Maybe if he were smarter, he wouldn’t have. You wouldn’t–..." Jean:  "Are you saying you shouldn’t be here with me?" 

 The figure gets closer, raising a board to her shoulder. 

5: The figure is revealed to be madelyne pryor, wearing the marvel girl dress, as she swings a board at Sinister’s head. She hits him with a “KRAK”. Telepathy flares out from Sinister’s form and from the panel as he’s hit. Jean and Scott watch her, Jean’s mouth open in shock, her telepathic eyes watching from Scott's eyes as well, while Scott looks untethered.

Page 3: Mads is in the middle column.

Panel 1: Jean and Scott reach their hands out towards Mads. Mads has her hands up in front of her. They are all frozen in place. Scott [Telepathically]: "Who is she?"

Mads [TP]:  "I can hear them."

Jean [TP]: "She looks like me." Mads [TP]: "I was supposed to be her."

Scott [TP]: "She killed him. That could have been Jean." Jean [TP]: "Scott thinks it should have been me." 

2: Mads flees past Scott, who is still frozen. Jean turns as Mads runs, half reaching out toward her. Mads [TP]:  "I can’t be her. I can’t be here." The thoughts become disjointed, unattached from the people who are thinking them, hanging in the air of the room.

3: Scott runs after Mads. The unattached thoughts begin to fill the space between him and Jean: "I can’t be her, That could have been me, I can’t be here". Jean watches Scott, frozen in place, and starts to cry. Telepathic energy comes off her in waves. Scott [TP]: "That could have been Jean."

"I can't be here" repeats until it goes through the bottom of the panel and into the next panel. 

4: Jean is still frozen, crying. Her hands are pressed to her head as she is crowded by the telepathic thought bubbles surrounding her. She gets stuck on bubbles repeating over and over:

"I can’t be here, I can’t be here, I can’t be here."

Page 4:

Panel 1: Jean is still surrounded by thought bubbles. She reaches into the middle pane and tears a black rip through it, telepathically and with her hands. Her head and hands flare with telepathy. The edges of the rip burn like fire. She is still crying, angry. 

2: Thought bubbles disappear. Jean’s head is snapped back by the force of telepathic feedback. The black rip spreads wider, telepathic flame at edges, continuous with the previous panel.Scott, chasing Mads outside the lab, trips forward. Both Jean and Scott are losing control of their bodies, falling.

3: Jean and Scott both fall to the ground, unconscious, as the rip in the page spreads wider. 

4:  Black/end id]

[jihyoruri]

please give us a firecracker!yn profile PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

………………………... ❨ .˳⁺⁎˚ ﹏ ꒰ఎ ★ ໒꒱ ﹋ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ❩˖ ……………………

#✿! . . . group!- lesserafim ( hybe labels- source music).

#✿! . . . birthday!- n/a.n/a.2005

#✿! . . .height!- 5’0

#✿! . . . mtbi!- ENTP

#✿! . . . relationship status!- in a relationship (hanni new jeans)

#✿! . . . family!- dad, older brother, older brother, little brother

#✿! . . . traits!- insensitive, hot headed, major anger issues, loyal, easy to get irritated, loyal, low patience

#✿! . . . close friends!- rei (ive),soul (p1harmony), kyujin (nmixx), niki (enhypen), anton (riize)

#✿! . . . brand endorsements!- chrome hearts, vans off the wall, ysl

#✿! . . . fav artists!- chase atlantic,deftones, wave to earth, radiohead, weezer, bôa, mitski, the neighborhood, melanie Martinez, blackpink, 2ne1, skz, play boy carti, ken carson, billie ellish

#✿! . . . songs that describe her!- just (radiohead), all the things she said (t.A.T.u), supermassive black hole (muse), A match into water (pierce the veil), nervous (the neighborhood), nurses office (Melanie Martinez), drama club (Melanie Martinez)

#✿! . . . fav movies!- project x, the perks of being a wallflower, it, superbad, spider man across the spiderverse, baby driver, any ghibli movie to exist

#✿! . . . biggest dream!- to turn her group into a rock band

#✿! . . . most cherished possessions!- her meddles from her taekwondo championships, her electric guitar that chrome hearts gifted her with their logo on it, all her ghibli merch, her old dsi with animal crossings on it, her old PlayStation so she can still play Doko Demo Issyo, the Polaroid that hanni took of herself and yn during their ghibli marathon

[noneorother]

Furfur has two photos because he has two cameras

The madness continues I guess? This is Fufur's camera(S) from the x-ray content on Amazon prime. They said it actually worked on the day, which is a little crazy for a few reasons... most notable of which, is that this is not one camera. It's two cameras.

The bottom one is a heavily modified 70's sx-70, probably with a front that has been covered in black pebble grain leather to hide the viewfinder and logos in the front. It's also upside-down, so that the polaroid comes out the top of the camera. I've drawn the shape hidden inside the steampunk accessories

That photo that comes out during this shot is from the sx-70 with the Mirage 28mm macro lens attached to it (lol wtf. That is extremely funny if you know anything about photography). The second camera is an original 1948 95 model land camera in black. These were originally portait or vertical, aned flipped out with a stand as the cover. Here they've added a barrel lens and taken the front cover stand off.

They've also combined the viewfinders to be up top beside the flash. These older models didn't have an automatic film ejection. You had to rip the film out of the back after opening it. The film was also slightly different sizes than the polaroid you've probably seen before. See below.

The one is Furfur's camera ejection is wider than the smaller, more close up shot in Crowley's hand later in the dressing room. Because the images tracked on to the film in the theatre were 100% done in post (no polaroid film develops that fast), it could just be a small inconsistency. It would make sense. But why go through all the trouble to build a double polaroid camera for Furfur to use? And if there are two polaroids, where's the other one? And why does Furfur not seem to have it?.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks to @kimberleyjean @thebluestgreen and @embracing-the-ineffable as always.

[nomizombie]

[You could be mine...] 🎸🎤🎶

fanboy!König x GN!rockstar!Reader || [Part 1] [Part 2]

[SFW/Wholesome] ; no usage of y/n, gender neutral pronouns, insane rocking out!!!, author has never been a rockstar or to a concert 😔, not proofread, written at 12 at night

[A/N] ; i was just really obsessed with the idea of König absolutely flooring it when he gets to meet his favourite rockstar!!! And then rockstar reader has to sign his forehead or smth

ALSO this is probably one of my first *longer* little drabbles so congratulations to msyelf for writing more than 3 sentences and not taking a nap!! 🎉

You stepped out onto the stage to a roar of fans. Hundreds were in the crowd screaming your name. Many scrambling to get to the edge of the stage and see you in full.

You greet the crowd enthusiastically, a gentle breeze flowing through the locks of your hair and tickling the ends of your shirt. With one strum of your guitar, the crowd goes wild, chanting and waving lights.

Not long after, your band begins playing. Drums, electric guitars, keyboard, and your smooth vocals, all come together to form song after song. Before long, the concert is almost over.

Sweat drips down your forehead as you pant, tired after jumping from end to end of the stage to interact with fans. You scan the crowd, at the front of the pack, barely hidden by spectators is a massive man, donning your band’s shirt and hat. You quickly snap your focus back to the blaring music behind you, more cheers erupting as you play the final song of the night.

You finally drop your mic. Singing a farewell to the horde of people as you leave the stage. Your shirt is soaked, hair damp and cheeks red. You high five your bandmates before disappearing into your area to change. The memory of the man still filling your memory as you wear a fresh shirt and pants, smooth your hair and dry your dewy skin.

Rushing out one final time, you find the long line of tables where your bandmates await you.

The obligatory autographing session after every concert. Tiresome, exhausting, but also something you look forward to.

Mindlessly scribbling your initials on albums and shirts, and thanking fans, you greet the next fan. But, when you look up, instead of seeing his face, your band’s logo crows your vision.

Your eyes trail further upwards before they land on a pair of crystal blue, anxiety-filled pupils staring back at you.

“Oh- Hello!” You croak out. It’s the man from earlier, and he’s so much more massive than you thought.

“Wow, big guy huh?” The words leave your mouth before you realise.

He stares at you silently, nodding frantically after a few seconds of awkwardness.

He’s not much of a talker, huh.

Desperate to ease the tension between you two, you flash your signature charming grin before speaking,

“Name?” You smile at him.

Once again, a few seconds of silence before another frenzied nod.

“König.” He says in a thick accent.

“Sorry? Repeat that would ya?” You turn your head to the side, leaning your ear into him.

His eyes widen before he comes a little closer and places his hand on the sides of his mouth. It was only then that you noticed how large his digits were. Each finger must’ve been at least one of yours and a half. Yet despite their size, he was trembling. Vibrating even.

He yells (or more accurately, speaks at a normal level) into your ear,

“König.”

You blink at him.

“Coonisch..?” You repeat at him confused. How do you even go about spelling that?

“It’s German.” He clarifies meekly.

Well that explains it.

He shakily places an album onto the cloth-covered table, then another, then another, then another, then one from your band’s first show and- holy shit, this dude must be a big fan. Physically and music-wise.

You reach your marker out to begin signing the stack before you freeze as he reaches into his bag and pulls out… guess what, another album! Then some faded polaroids that you faintly remember taking on stage before throwing them out into the crowd… then a small band facts book… exclusive posters, and some CDs still in the wrapping! When he finally stops digging around his bag, you finally notice the wide array of vibrant pins and badges stuck to his leather satchel. Unique pins from the early days of your music and badges that were never made again after the first drop. This man is beyond a fan.

He chuckles nervously as he noticed your wide eyes and slight gaping mouth. You were literally in the band but still you weren’t even sure you had some of the merch he did.

“All right… Coonisch… How do I… spell… that?”

“K-Ö-with the two dots above it-N-I-G.”

Oh.

“You want that on… everything..?” You gesture towards the stack of albums, posters, and pictures.

“Yes.” He responds. You can almost see his wide grin through the balaclava he wore.

You sighed, clicking your pen and getting to work. By the time you finished the last poster, he was practically vibrating.

“I take it you’re a big fan?”

He nods wildly again. Eagerly stuffing the pile of merch back into his bag. Once he’s all packed up, he doesn’t leave just yet. His eyes contemplate before he opens his mouth again.

“Can- Do you- Hand- Is it okay if you… shake my hand?!” The last part comes out a bit too loud. His eyes widen again, tips of his ears turning a light shade of pink as he lowers his head.

“Of course. Least I can do for a fan like you.” You beam at him. His eyes immediately return to their squinted eye-smile state as he holds out his jittery hand.

You slowly wrap your fingers around his (giant) ones and give him a firm, tight, shake.

“That good?”

He nods madly, eyes joyfully squinting. He looks like he just went to heaven.

A string of giggles leaves your throat. You can’t hold it back. He looks confused for a moment before chuckling himself, realising how much of a fanboy he must look like right now.

“Well, hope to see you around again, König.”

He thanks you profusely, bowing and nodding his head. He almost left before he froze, turned and quickly dropped something onto your table. You swear you could see him floating with stars in his eyes as he walked off.

You stare at the tiny red present box for a second before pocketing it and signing the next bunch of albums and posters. Before long, it was an hour and a half to midnight and you were tucked up in the back of your band’s van.

Squirming to your side, your brain replayed the interaction between you and König. Every timid word he spoke, his boyish mannerisms, even the look in his eyes as you shook his hand.

It was starting to get difficult not to think about him.

You felt your pocket for your phone before realising that the gift he left you was still unopened inside of it.

Quickly, you pulled it out, gently unwrapping the carefully lined paper and undoing the small ribbon.

Inside, the most precious necklace laid. Engraved with your initials and band’s logo. It was a locket in the shape of a sparrow, your favourite bird. You clutched the necklace, grinning from ear-to-ear as your cheeks burned.

Then, you noticed something scrawled at the bottom of the box.

A phone number.

You smiled so hard your face hurt.

dividers by @mmadeinheavenn

Tysm for reading!!! Please lmk if you’d like me to continue this silly idea of mine- i think im shaking at the thought of writing this aas a full fic witj multiple parts… 😭🙏

[przttygirl]

Cast de la sociedade de la nieve com uma namorada plus size

enzo! que te viu pela primeira vez no cast de filmagem e ficou obcecado com seu corpo e sua aparência logo de primeira.

enzo! que depois do primeiro encontro não conseguia mais parar de pensar em você

enzo! que te pediu em namoro no mesmo restaurante que te levou a primeira vez um mês depois de estarem saindo

enzo! que tira fotos suas em polaroid toda hora, ele tem um álbum so seu que ninguém mais pode ver

enzo! que cada vez que você se sente insegura por seu corpo ele te mostra uma das fotos que tirou pra te lembrar que você é a musa dele

enzo! que na mesma noite que te pegou chorando por insegurança, te levou pra dentro do chuveiro pra tomarem um banho juntos e ele não parou um segundo de te dizer o quanto a amava e o quanto você era perfeita

enzo! que após o banho te deitou na cama pra olharem seu filme favorito e ficou fazendo carinho no seu cabelo falando o quanto você era a mulher da vida dele

enzo! que te proibiu de olhar as redes sociais aquela noite e te beijou como se o mundo fosse acabar quando você disse que estava recebendo comentários de ��dio nas redes sociais apenas por ser namorada dele

enzo! que te despiu devagarzinho como se você fosse uma pérola delicada e ficava repetindo, "elas gostariam de estar no seu lugar, mas você é a mulher que eu quero pelo resto da minha vida, não elas."

enzo! que beijou cada parte do seu corpo e se deliciou com seu peitos e os sons abafados que você emitia naquela noite

enzo! que enquanto tirava a própria roupa dizia que amava cada centímetro do seu corpo e que iria te fazer sentir tão bem naquela noite a ponto de você se enxergar da forma como ele te via.

enzo! que ficou por cima de você enquanto roçava o pau na sua bucetinha molhada e masturbava seu clitóris com o mesmo

enzo! que te penetrou devagarzinho, querendo sentir todo seu interior e dizia entre suspiros o quanto você era apertada

enzo! que enquanto gozavam juntos dizia que te amava e quando caiu deitado ao seu lado perguntou se você já estava se sentindo melhor, você brincou dizendo que não.

enzo! que riu e disse que então teria que te foder de novo até você entender o quão perfeita era.

•

matias! que te viu numa festa e ficou encantado com a brasileira confiante que andava por ai de vestidinho curtinho esbanjando as próprias curvas

matias! que te pagou um drink e sem 2 minutos de conversa já disse que você era a mulher mais gostosa que ele ja tinha visto

matias! que dançou com você a noite inteira e evitava ficar de pau duro enquanto você rebolava nele ao som de um funk brasileiro

matias! que te levou pra casa e no caminho passou em 2 sinais vermelhos e quase bateu o carro porque não conseguia parar de olhar pra você, especialmente pra suas coxas nas quais ele não tirou a mão desde o primeiro, segundo que entraram naquele veículo, gostava de como elas eram o dobro do tamanho da perna dele.

matias! que abriu a porta do passageiro pra você e se fez de bom moço até fechar a porta do próprio apartamento.

matias! que te empurrou na parede assim que entraram e te beijou enquanto segurava sua cintura e seu rosto com as mãos, você deixou sua bolsa cair e rapidamente, tirou o salto alto que estava usando ficando um pouco mais baixa que o garoto, isso sem cortar o beijo

matias! que te levantou do chão e te pressionou contra a parede, apertava com força suas coxas proximas a sua bunda, ele mal podia pensar em como seria sua bunda, especialmente batendo contra o pau dele.

matias! que estava adorando suas mãos puxando o cabelo dele e suas línguas quentes em contato uma contra a outra

matias! que te levou pro quarto quase sem fôlego pelo melhor beijo da vida dele e te jogou sem dó algum na cama

matias! que tirou a camisa e a calça sem hesitação ficando só de cueca, puxou seu vestido tubinho pra baixo e revelou seu corpo nu.

matias! que ficou surpreso e ainda mais excitado quando descobriu que você foi pra festa sem calcinha, "você é mesmo uma puta, né chiquita?"

matias! que te beijou novamente enquanto apertava seus peitos e deslizava os dedos sobre seus mamilos durinhos

matias! que quase gozou quando te ouviu gemer a primeira vez

matias! que rapidamente te virou de costas e fez você ficar de quatro, bateu tantas vezes na sua bunda que deixou a marca da própria mão

matias! que te chupou de 4, lambia desde seu clitóris até o seu cuzinho apertadinho, "tão molhadinha, nena.", e apertava sua bunda enquanto se deliciava com seu gosto na boca dele, "eu amo sua bunda enorme, só pra mim.

matias! que quase rasgou a cueca de tão necessitado que estava pra te foder

matias! que enfiou o pau por completo de uma só vez, gemeu junto de você quando arqueoou as costas ficando mais aberta e empinadinha pra ele

matias! que te fodeu forte ao ponto da cama balançar e quando gozou deixou seu interior inteiro melado de porra.

matias! que depois desse dia virou seu contato favorito pra foda

•

agustin! que namora com você já fazem 2 anos mas percebeu que você se pegou mais insegura desde q ele começou sociedade da neve

agustin! que perguntou, "o que houve?" e você disse, "você vai estar com todas essas modelos famosas e elas não se parecem nada comigo."

agustin! que disse, "mas eu não quero que elas se pareçam com você, é por isso que eu te tenho bem aqui.", "mas tem tantas mulheres matando pra ficar com você agora.", "eu não me importo com nenhuma delas, amor, só quero você."

agustin! que te sentou no colo dele e ficou beijando seu rosto até aparecer um sorriso

Agustín! que tirou sua blusa devagarinho e massageou seus peitos com cuidado, "você é minha mulher, só você que eu quero."

agustin! que abocanhou um de seus peitos enquanto acariciava o outro, a lingua paseeava pelo seu mamilo e a barba fazia cócegas na sua pele.

agustin! que beija seu pescoço e acaricia suas costas te fazendo arrepiar.

agustin! que diz coisas no seu ouvido e morde o lóbulo da sua orelha, "você é linda, mi amor, te quiero solo a ti".

agustin! que já estava sem camiseta como de costume e tira o seu e o shorts dele, estavam de pijamas combinando.

agustin! que te beija enquanto desce as mãos para sua bunda e você repousa suas mãos no peitoral do homem, brincando com alguns pelinhos.

agustin! que aperta seu pescoço durante o beijo e deixa escapar um gemido seu, provocando seu membro já duro que batia em sua barriga.

agustin! que geme baixinho quando você o masturba lentinho, "você não presta, amor.", dizia entre um sorriso safado.

Agustín! que foi pego de surpresa quando vê você se abaixando e lambendo toda sua extensão até enfiar tudo na boca

agustin! que te puxa pelo cabelo e tira o pau de sua boca apenas para te beijar porque não consegue resistir a seu rostinho safado.

agustin! que estava suando e vermelho quando você posicionou o pau dele embaixo de você e sentou com força.

agustin! que se segurou pra não gozar com uma sentada sua, segurava sua cintura e te ajudava com os movimentos, "assim, eu não vou durar, amor."

Agustín! que te chamava de gostosa, cavalona e outros elogios incompreensíveis entre os gemidos do homem

agustin! que gozou dentro de você quando sentiu seu interior apertar o pau dele conforme sentava

agustin! que melou tanto você quanto ele, mas disse que tudo bem, já que vocês continuariam no banho

agustin! que ao se deitar ao seu lado perguntou, "tá melhor amor?", "acho que preciso de mais uma transa pra entender que sou sua, ainda não entendi muito bem", "perra safada.", enquanto te puxava pra mais um beijo

escrevi essa baseada nas vozes da minha cabeça, espero que gostem!

[aplaceforyourhearttorest]

You Make Loving Fun ✍︎ Cliff Burton

for @metallicaislife ♡ for whom (the bell tolls) i love endlessly

Worn out cotton tickles the tip of your nose as you twist your body to hug the pillow beneath you, the furrow between your eyebrows concaving into a deep and temporary divot as you blindly shove your face into the pillowcase and groan out a halfhearted protest. The sun beams down on and in through the aged and crooked blinds, and you grimace as you feel the slight tinge of sweat culminate on the skin of your left arm and shoulder blade.

You exhale out a sigh of relief as you untangle a limb and use it to toss the embroidered and heavy blanket off of your upper half, and a smile twitches itself onto your yawning lips, as the faint and barely-there scent of your boyfriend's herbs and stale cigarette smoke wafts and dances its way up to you from the movement of the fabric.

You sluggishly sit up and immediately make eye contact with the most recent picture that was taken of Cliff and sent your way, via mail, and a deep sense of yearning and excited anxiety fills you to the brim as you take in the sight. In the photo you kept in safe keeping, your boyfriend can be seen grinning down at a letter you wrote only a few days prior, the delicate skin around his eyes stretching and wrinkling with glee as he takes in your adoration-filled words. Your fingers grip onto the fabric of his shirt surrounding you as you embrace the flutter that creates dormancy in your chest. You blink back the sting that starts behind your eyelids as you think of your partner, before turning your attention elsewhere, suddenly needing a distraction from the onslaught of emotions trying to overwhelm you so early in the morning.

The smile that once teased your lips comes back to, you unable to fight back the amusement you feel as soon as the sticker on the postcard to your left comes into view, as you turn your head away from the polaroid thumbtacked on the wall opposite of the bed.

'Metallica up your ass!' stares back up at you in an overused and obnoxious font, the beginning and ending of the band's logo's letters turning into plungers and bleeding their way down the paper in front of you in a muddy and russet brown color.

The heart beating inside of your chest pauses, and then sporadically beats as your partially numb fingertips run their way over the smudged and messy ink on the bottom of the postcard, your arms feeling like lead as they slowly wake themselves up.

Soon, is the only word scrawled on the dilapidated piece of paper, and you caress your bottom lip with the tip of your tongue as you take in a deep and unsteady breath. Biting back a wince as your uncovered and bare feet make contact with the chilled hardwood floor underneath you as you begin to stand up, your amused smile relaxes itself into a small grin as you make your way down into another room of the shared living space. Old group posters absorb themselves into the chipped, yellow paint of the hallway's walls and vinyl's haphazardly rest on uneven and homemade shelves, the sight greeting you warmly as you tiredly stumble through the small living room area and into the dimly lit kitchen.

You temporarily flutter your eyes shut as the coffee machine buzzes and vibrates to life against the scratched marble counter you lean against with your cocked hip, the sound comforting and grounding as you slowly begin to come to full consciousness. The tips of your nails tap against the hardened material of your favorite mug with a familiar beat, and your chest heaves in a silent laugh as you acknowledge the original source.

"Two hours, two hours." You murmur out into the chilled air, your eyes finally opening back up and making their way upward to stare up at the clock above the refrigerator. Your palm reddens as you press it against your now filled and warmed up coffee mug and you hum in contentment, before pushing yourself off of the countertop with your free elbow and making your way back toward the bedroom once again.

Reaching out to entangle your fingers in the multitude of band and long sleeve t-shirts Cliff left behind as you make your way past your guys' closet, you swallow a large gulp of the caffeinated drink and glance at the outfit you already have placed out and folded on top of a chair, on the outskirts of the bedroom. Anticipation enraptures you as you pitter over to the dress, and you mirthfully grin to yourself and against the heat emanating from your coffee as you picture his reaction to the ensemble. You already know what your reaction to seeing him again will be like, somewhat already familiarized with the sense of longing that comes with the partially long-distance relationship the two of you were in. But you hope the letter you wrote last night and the effort you put in to surprising him will show him how much you truly care for him, love him. And you also, maybe, want to floor him on his ass just a little bit. Lovingly, of course.

✉

Fleetwood Mac harmonizes out of the record player and into the frenzied air of the dining room as you run your way around the small apartment, the mirth and confidence you felt earlier being shoved back and away and replaced with exerted exhaustion. You let out a puff of air and bite back a giggle as it sways the hair resting against the crown of your head and your temples. You lean back and rest against the wall connecting the two nearest rooms and wipe the sudsy water off of the palms of your hands, the caffeine in your system now completely gone after the last hour and a half of cooking and getting yourself ready. You freeze in place at an unexpected and too-early sound coming from the front door only a few feet away from you; the grip you have on the apron you're trying to remove slipping as you suddenly hear a key slide into the deadbolt.

"Oh shit." You whisper, before hurriedly yanking the stained protectant off and tossing it over and onto the sofa, the doorknob now being twisted and pushed on with impatient haste.

You place your hands behind your back and wrap them around the opposite wrist, your stomach sucking in densely with a heavy inhalation as you ready yourself for the sight of your boyfriend. The heart in your chest begins to thunder and catapult as he shoves his way in, his arms weighed down by multiple duffle bags and heavy carry on's. Cliff visibly deflates as soon as you come into view, the annoyed expression on his facial features crumbling and his eyes widening with anew light. Before either one of you could utter out a single word, your feet begin to move on their own accord, and your arms encircle themselves around his broad shoulders as you guide him down into an abrupt embrace. Cliff lets out a surprised grunt as you make harsh contact with him, and he carefully allows his bags to thud against the welcoming rug as soon as he's sure your feet are in the clear and a safe distance away. Cliff gently guides you backwards and further into the warmth of the lived in space, his right and booted foot blindly kicking the door behind him closed as he wholly and intentionally focuses in on you.

"Hi, sweetheart." He coos out, his eyebrows raising in muted amusement as he feels you shake against him with poorly hidden tremors. His hand dips down to your lower back to rub soothing and placating circles in the intimate and sensitive skin, causing you to take in a deep breath of his scent and sigh out, feeling immense exasperated relief as he temporarily brings his body closer to yours.

"Where's the funeral?" Cliff muses, gently unwrapping your arms from around him and shuffling you until you're at an arm's length of distance. Large and warm calloused hands cup your cheeks as tears stream down from your eyes, and you let out a sound of embarrassment as soon as you look up at him and make bashful eye contact.

"I had the whole day planned out, and I swore to myself I wouldn't cry." You admit, an unfightable smile breaking through and ending the waterwork of tears as your boyfriend's warm and soft laughter fills the room around you two. "If a reunion between us doesn't start with you crying as soon as you see me, then you didn't miss me all that much." You raise an arm to playfully collide it with his arm but pause as you get lost in the way he looks down at you. Warmth spreads through you as Cliff caresses your cheeks and bends down to meet you halfway, his lips feeling more homelike than the apartment the two or you share.

The music playing from a room away bleeds into a cacophony of static and gentle white noise as he delicately breathes out against you and his stubble brushes against your cupid's bow. The hand you have paused and already raised goes to wrap around his wrist instead, and you let out a sigh of fulfillment as you feel his steady and thrumming heartbeat underneath your slightly trembling fingertips. The hand you aren't holding on to slides down and grips onto the back of your neck and onto your nape, the firm grasp making you melt into the embrace and fully relax. The never-ending worrying of his health and safety and if he'll make it home all in one piece finally stops and you nearly slump in overwhelming consolation, before letting out a whine as he pulls away and disconnects his lips from yours.

Cliff smiles widely, his eyes doing that endearing squint that you love so much as he takes in your appearance, inch by inch. Heat bleeds from the apples of your cheeks down to your chest, and you're close to shying away before he speaks up and begins his praise. "And look at you, my love, all dressed up for me." You let out a gentle bout of laughter as his hand glides to yours and raises to spin you in a dramatic and slow circle.

"And only for you," you reassure him in a quiet tone, your blush becoming a bright red hue as his eyes slightly darken at your affirmation. "Who takes care of me, no matter how far away he may be," Cliff quickly clears his throat and looks away as he starts to flush, only glancing over at you to playfully glare as you let out a sound of amused enjoyment. "Go and take your jacket and your shoes off for me, big boy. I made us dinner."

You watch as your boyfriend seems to physically shake his head to get out of his own stupor, and you bite onto the tip of your thumb as a wide grin sores your cheeks. You quickly turn around and slide the envelope underneath his tablecloth before he could see it and make your way over to your chair. You look up amid filling up both of your plates as you hear a throat clear itself and a zipper shudder to a close, and your lips gape open in surprise as you're greeted with your partner holding out a bouquet of flowers to you. Pink roses are hugged up against tulips and blooming sunflowers, and surrounding all of it, a ribbon tied in a perfect knot with all of your favorite colors.

"Cliff," you start and then stop, your eyes threatening to water as you take in his sheepish grin. His socked feet shuffle in barely contained nervousness, causing the bell bottoms of his flared jeans to rub against each other and irritate his ankle's skin. "I knew I was going to come home, and you'd be looking as gorgeous as you usually do, with a mountain full of food out on the table and our songs already playing. It really isn't that big of a deal, baby. Just wanted to let you know that I was thinking about you on the way over here and wanted to gift you a little token of appreciation." Cliff feels his heart flutter in his chest as he takes in your wide eyes and unsteady hands, fighting back the urge to discard the flowers and give you comfort instead.

"Everything you do for me is a big deal, because it comes from you," you swallow thickly and force yourself to take in a deep breath before continuing. "The man who's taught me what healthy love is and what a relationship is supposed to be and feel like. You're everything, especially to me, so every little thing you do for me will always be insurmountable." Cliff lets out a disbelieving laugh as his eyes begin to tear up, and he quickly makes his way over to the table to sit next to you, as close as physically possible without bringing you onto his lap. You both wince at the sound of his chair squeaking out in protest against the tiles underneath it and let out shy laughs at the closeness once you two meet in the middle. No matter how many years the two of you have been together and have met up after a long leg of a tour, it all still felt so brand new and refreshing. And as you thumb a thick strand of hair behind your ear and glance over to see the content smile on your partner's face, you silently wish for the butterflies and the excitement to never end. And as he turns to look at you, he silently does the same, his hands reaching over to entangle themselves in yours to hold you close.

✉

A whoosh flies out of you as you twist your body to face Cliff halfway, your now protruding tummy protesting the movement as you fight to keep the atrocious amount of food you ate down. Your boyfriend looks no better off, the overeating seeming like a good idea at first, but soon becoming a sullen regret as he slumps back in his dining room chair and brings your feet up to rest against the jean material hugging his slender thighs. Your eyes flit over to the dessert you made early last night resting on the stove, and Cliff lets out a deep groan as he follows your line of sight.

"Absolutely fucking not." He refuses, squinting up at you from his lowered position, his face set in a mild grimace and his fingertips drawing firm figure 8's in your bare calves.

"You'll regret saying that when the crust hardens in the morning and the cherry filling dries up." You retort, letting out a chortle as he sarcastically rolls his eyes at your rebuttal. "As long as the pie's the only thing drying up around here, I don't mind."

You smack his shoulder, causing him to beam wide and let out a cackle as he takes in your incredulous expression. "Clifford Lee Burton, you are nothing less of a pervert!" You yell, before sharing a grin as you both acknowledge the hypocrisy in your playful outburst. You were almost always the first one to initiate intimacy between the two of you, shocking the musician who was already known for not being too shy himself once he feels comfortable and in tune with everyone around him. He couldn't help it, turning into a softened mess whenever you were around, his hesitancy only proving his utmost respect for you and only going after whatever you were ready for at any given moment.

"C'mere real quick, I've got something else for you." He murmurs after taking in a few deep breaths, a hand on your leg stopping all movement and removing itself to reach behind his back and grab onto an item from one of his pockets. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, before looking over at the incredible bouquet lying against the edge of the table. He had already done more than enough; he was here, and he was present, and that was all you could possibly want and ask for.

You relay the same sentiment out loud and get a small smile in response, and an almond-colored envelope waved in your direction. Your eyes widen in surprise at the rarity of him writing you a letter, his thing more of a late-night phone call after an exhilarating performance and him falling asleep to the sound of your voice. "I figured I'd write you one back after the dozens you wrote me over the past few months that have helped keep me sane, with all of the traveling and roadies we've got running all around. Might not be as good as one of yours, but." Cliff shrugs nonchalantly, but the glassiness of his eyes present a wide array of nervousness and timidness. You hide an enamored grin behind the gift as you feel his leg begin to bounce underneath your own.

"I'd accept and take anything you give me without complaint, and you know that." You almost whisper, the pads of your thumbs indenting themselves into the envelope that's nestled in your palms, as you smile down at the messy scrawling of the nickname that he's been calling you since high school.

Sunshine.

You tear open the sealed backing of the letter with excited haste and ignore the sound of your boyfriend's amused laughter, his hands encircling their way around your calves once again as you unfold the contents inside. Your heart stops in time as you grasp onto a mini polaroid picture of the two of you on your first date. October 12th, 1979, is written on the bottom of the image, and you let out a tear-filled laugh as you run a fingertip over the crooked heart drawn near your connected hands. You quickly unfold the letter and begin to read it with rapt and undeterred attention.

To my sunshine, who I met back in 1979. August 31st, to be exact. I can almost remember it like it was yesterday. You floated into homeroom like you owned the place, although you expression screamed that you wanted to be anywhere else at that moment. Your undeniable beauty is what caught my attention at first, but your personality is what caused me to stick around. You enrapture me, with your kindness and your openness, the way you welcome all kinds of people in and give them emotional shelter. I've never met someone like you before, and I don't think I ever will. I've known you for 2,372 days, and I think I've been in love with you for every single one of them. I cannot picture myself without you, and when I do, I feel nothing but alone and starving. Even when I'm on tour and I'm surrounded by the smell of the other guys and enough weed to power a greenhouse, I still feel your presence around me. You are my everything, and everything else, all at once. And you complete me. Thank you for always sticking by my side, and for believing in the band when we had absolutely nothing. You cheered us on while we were ripping out foam from the walls to make beds in a one room apartment, and you continue to cheer us on in front of hundreds of thousands of people today. Your love is universal, and I hope to be the main person you show it to until we're old and withered, but still young together and at heart. I cannot wait to be able to come home and to have you and hold you in my arms, I've been dreaming about it and yearning for it for months. Hold on, because I'm coming home to you. Love yours, your bellbottom wearing, hippie asshole.

"Six years in counting, and sixty-six more to go." You nearly weep out, your body instinctively reaching out for Cliff as you drop the letter and photo in your lap. Cliff instantly lifts and brings you into and onto his own, gently guiding your head to rest on his chest as he runs his large palms up and down your wracking and trembling back.

"Everything is alright, sweet thing. Just breathe for me." Your partner reassures, the cadence in his voice and his natural comforting aura causing you to calm down much faster than you normally would if he wasn't around.

"Doing so well for me, always so good." Cliff smiles down at you with a soft look as you blearily look up into his bright, green eyes. "When was the last time I told you how much I love you?" You ask him once you trust your voice enough not to crack or break, and an unsteady smile makes its way on to your lips as your boyfriend bends down to place a warm kiss on the center of your forehead.

"Yesterday morning. And then yesterday afternoon, and then last night, again." Cliff drones out, the faux tone of annoyance in his voice making you shake your head in mirth and rest it against his chest once again. You place a kiss there and beam to yourself as he shivers from the notion, before leaning back and sliding your hand underneath his tablecloth to get your own letter this time. "How about I remind you again?"

Cliff lets out a warm spell of laughter as you hand him over a matching-colored envelope, almost the same in size and all. "I bet you won't one up me at all," he jokes to you, before pausing midway while opening it. "Read it to me? Missed the sound of your actual voice. Sweden's phone reception is actual shit, and you sound much better in person." You squint your eyes at his obvious ass kissing but turn around to rest against his front and to lean your head against his clothed shoulder. "Alright, brat."

You lift your hand for the envelope and let out a huff as he playfully tugs it away from you, going to fully open it himself and then placing it in your awaiting hand. You momentarily close your eyes at the sensation of his stubble making contact with your exposed collarbone, before opening them once again to start reading your letter out loud.

"To my hippie rockstar, I miss you even though we already spoke over the phone tonight. The excitement in your voice when you told me about how filled and interactive the crowd was made me want to cry. It reminds me of the times we used to sit in your parent's living room and watch the tapes your parents filmed of you, Scott and Connie. You banging on empty and already-eaten spaghetti cans and your older siblings playing their actual instruments, but you still kept up with them with your insane enthusiasm. I know Connie is proud of you, she told me the other night when I called her home. But I know Scott would be losing his shit right now. He'd be the first person in line at every single venue, and the last person standing out there, cheering you on while everyone else headed on home. I know he isn't with us anymore, but he's still your older brother no matter how you look at it, and I just know he's exuberant and standing on the tips of his toes looking down at you. We all are, because you are our star. I knew it the first moment I saw you, in that overworn jean jacket you still somehow fit into today, and that bellbottom jean style you still hold on to, that we all secretly love. When I first saw you and spoke to you outside of class, I knew you were different. The shy smiles you'd send my way and the little notes we'd pass to each other when the teacher wasn't looking. The first time you held my hand on our first date and refused to let go until I promised you that I'd allow you to take me out on another one. You are tenacious and hardworking and everyone around you is so proud, including me. I cannot wait to see you and our best friends on tour in person once again, and I can't wait to see how we end up in the future. Together, I know that. Hopefully in a home much larger and filled with our children and future nieces and nephews, and with that specific type of breed of dog you've always wanted. But even if in fifteen years down the road and we're still in this old apartment, with the same crooked blinds and the same scratched marble countertops, I would still be content. Because as long as I have you by my side and still feel you even if you're not here with me physically, I'll still have you in my heart and you'll always be here. You are my other half, my overindulgent, loving and caring, hippie rockstar. And I wouldn't have you any other way. Until I see you again, your Sunshine. Six years in counting, and sixty-six more to go."

You sniffle once you finish, the tip of your nose being tickled and irritated by a teardrop refusing to fall down. The music is the only sound emanating throughout the apartment, but you know that your boyfriend held on to every single word and syllable, if his shaking shoulders were any indication and proof of that. You let out a coo as you feel his arms encircle their way around your middle from behind, and you twist your head to the side to place a kiss on his now damp and tear-stained jawline.

"We're all so proud of you. You know that, right?" You ask him quietly, not wanting to fright him or break the delicate scene the two letters of yours made. You feel him nod against you and you let go of your letter to wrap your hands around his. "You do so well for everyone, and if I have to remind you myself every day, then I will."

"I love you so much." Cliff declares, the tremble in his voice causing you to press yourself against him even more, wanting to give him as much comfort as physically possible. "And I love you." You answer, simply and softly. Because it was the truth, and you always will. You made that promise to him five years ago on your first anniversary, and you intend to keep it until that right is taken away from you.

Cliff kisses the tears away of his that landed on your shoulders during your reading, and carefully scoots his chair back until it lightly raps itself against the yellow-colored wall. Before you could even ask what he was doing, you're spontaneously picked up with little to no effort, and then placed unsteadily on your bare feet. "Let's dance." He says, before dramatically holding a hand out to you and bowing his head. You let out a confused laugh but decide to go with the flow anyway, reaching your hand up to grasp onto his.

A squeal exits your lips as you're playfully tugged around the dining room table, and on to the crossroads of the living room and the kitchen. You instinctually wrap your arms around his shoulders as soon as he lifts you once again to place your feet on top of his. "I don't want the first day of me being back to be nothing but tears and stomachaches. Granted, the food was amazing, and your letter means the world to me, but I finally have you back in my arms after so long, and I want to take full advantage of it."

Your eyes soften as you look up into his and nod mutely, his hands caressing your lower waist bringing warmth back into you as your combined feet chill from the minor draft breezing itself inside from the front door.

You place a gentle kiss on his chin before resting your forehead against his chest and closing your eyes, the sound of the song that you two danced to on your first date crooning around the two of you like a comforting serenade as you both sway back and forth.

'Sweet, wonderful you. You make me happy with the things you do. Oh, can it be so? This feeling follows me wherever I go.'

"One day," Cliff starts, causing you to hum against him for him to continue. "One day, I'm going to make enough money and I'll propose, and we'll get married, and we can go and look for that perfect home you're always talking about. The white picket fence and the two floors, the walk-in closet, with a garage that's big enough to fit the both of our car's in."

"As long as you're here with me, I don't mind where we go or where we'll end up. That's just fairytales, you and I are the present, so let's focus on that instead," you lean back to look up in his eyes, that already seemed to be looking down at you. "You are my home, and we've got all of the time in the world. So, let's just focus on what we've got now, because that's all that I truly need."

Cliff nods back at you and slightly raises you off of the tops of his feet to bring you into a warm hug and embrace. You wrap your legs around his waist like it's second nature, and you feel complete and at ease as he rests his head in the space between your neck and your shoulder.

"But I'll accept that marriage proposal right away, if you were serious about that one." Your boyfriend lets out a laugh against your flushed skin and you grin widely to yourself as his vibration tickles your skin.

Cliff momentarily glances over at his jean jacket and the little red box that peeks out of its breast pocket, before resting his head against you once again and tightening his grip around you.

For once is his life, or in the past six years of the best part of his life he's spent with you, he's finally got one up on you. And he cannot wait to see your reaction. And he also, maybe, wants to floor you on your ass just a little bit. Lovingly, of course.

'You, you make loving fun. It's all I want to do.'

[creads]

camilinha!!! aproveitar que a ask ainda ta aberta

amamos kuku baterista MAS ja pensou no kuku baixista? sei laaaaa so queria que ele cuspisse na minha boca afff

cara no off nunca tinha pensado pq ele baterista já consome todos os meus neurônios mas ✊🏻

kuku!baixista que você conhece num bar que ele e a banda estavam tocando, depois do show terminar se esbarram na calçada em frente do lugar e conversam um pouco sobre música, ele te conta sobre a banda e ouve atentamente quando você conta mais sobre você mesma. ele caminha até a sua casa contigo e não nega quando você o convida para entrar, começam a se beijar na cozinha depois de tomarem um copo de água. quando vão para o quarto continuam se beijando na cama, você sentada no colo dele, e ele aperta sua bunda com as duas mãos enquanto se deita na cama, te puxando para deitar em cima dele. você vai descendo os beijos pelo corpo dele, levantando a camisa para que possa dar selinhos molhados no peito e na barriga, e ele te observa com um sorrisinho de lado e com os cotovelos apoiados na cama. joga a cabeça para trás quando você finalmente lambe a extensão toda depois de provocá-lo dando beijinhos e lambidinhas nada tímidas na glande rosinha que já vazava pré gozo.

kuku!baixista que puxa suas pernas e te posiciona a ficar de quatro enquanto o chupa, ficando virada de lado para ele e empinadinha - estrategicamente - perto do braço dele. a mão grande sobe pelas suas coxas e ele faz círculos largos com os dedos na sua bucetinha ainda por cima da calcinha, ri quando te sente gemer ao redor do comprimento. quando ele finalmente arreda sua calcinha para o lado e enfia um dedo, sorri ao te sentir gemer ao redor do comprimento dele

kuku!baixista que nesse dia te comeu de bruços, agarrando seu cabelo pela base, deixando apenas um lado do seu rosto encostado no travesseiro e deixando beijos molhados no seu pescoço e na sua boca enquanto falava coisas sujas no seu ouvido, sorrindo ao ouvir os seus gemidos falhadinhos e o barulho das peles se chocando

kuku!baixista que continua te convidando para todos os shows que acontecem no bar, e você sempre aceita, sorrindo ao vê-lo tocar enquanto te olha. o que acontece depois disso é sempre a mesma coisa: se pegam horrores naquele lugar, ou no camarim, ou no corredor do banheiro, ou no bequinho do lado de fora do bar, ou no carro dele… e ele ama quando você usa uma sainha, porque quando você está no colo dele enquanto o beija, consegue te dedar e honestamente ama te ver roçando contra a palma grande, estimulando o seu pontinho sensível enquanto os dedos grandes te fodem

kuku!baixista que uma vez te sentou no meio das pernas dele, você nua e com ele segurando suas perninhas bem abertas em frente ao espelho. ele é tão maior que você que a cabeça dele ficava em cima da sua, permitindo que ele deixasse um beijinho no topo da sua cabeça enquanto te fazia ver como os dedos habilidosos entravam e saíam dentro de ti, ou como quando ele fazia círculos no seu clitóris, a palma grande cobria sua intimidade toda. deixava beijos molhados no seu rosto e mandíbula enquanto a mão livre beliscava seus biquinhos. amava quando você gemia palavras desconexas, “tá gostoso, nena? hmmm? tô vendo…”, num tonzinho provocante logo seguido dele falando que tá doido pra usar seu buraquinho, mas só quando você ser uma garota boazinha e gozar nos dedos dele

kuku!baixista que AMA falar “shhhh…” quando você tá gemendo muito alto, mas te estoca mais fundo e ainda por cima desce os dedos molhados de saliva par fazer círculos no seu clitóris, só pra você não conseguir ficar quieta

kuku!baixista que gosta de rough sex e lowkey tem um spit kink, ama cuspir na sua boca e deixar um tapa na sua bochecha depois, ou afastar suas dobrinhas com os dedos enquanto te chupa, só para cuspir ali e te fazer espernear com alguns tapinhas antes de enfiar os dedos em você

kuku!baixista que guarda fotos suas na carteira: uma 3x4 pq você tá bonitinha 😊, uma polaroid sua com o rostinho sujo de porra e outra que ele tirou durante um papai e mamãe, segurando suas pernas juntas para cima e com o comprimento dele todo dentro da sua bucetinha já vermelha depois de ter levado alguns tapas. ah, e uma que um dos amigos dele tirou de vocês numa resenha da banda, em que ele tentou te ensinar como tocar baixo 😊😊

kuku!baixista que ama morder sua bunda e chupar seus peitos, e gosta de deixar isso registrado também, tem uma foto na galeria da sua bunda com uma marca da mordida dele e um vídeo caseiro dele te chupando, com uns 2 minutos só dele mamando e lambendo seus biquinhos antes de descer até sua bucetinha e chupar ela só do jeito que ele sabe.

essa é a skin kuku baterista me thinks ☝🏻 (e essa fotinha da polaroid é a que você tem na sua carteira 😛🤟🏻)

[christinarowie332]

stoner chris and reader hc !!!

@lividnity literally fully inspired me for this and helped me cook last night !! creds to her 🤍🤍🤍🤍

(things u need to know) -

1. i am british!! so if i don’t understand any of the slang i use just dm me lmao i’ll explain it !!

2. i will not be writing smut !! i leave that to my talented writers like @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @daddyslilchickenfingers and @jcwrites-blog !!!

3. this is just for fun !!! i love the idea of a sarcastic jokey relationship with a side of droogs !! this is FICTION

4. I LOVE YOU SM - millz

——-

-reader met matt first at a party and smoked with him and nick , chris joined half way , became friends with “y/n” and the rest is history !!!

-chris gets his weed from matt , matt’s gf grows

-the moment you get irritated with him he just pulls out a bag and walks away, gesturing you to follow him . argument over , sesh starts !!!

-late night talks with him after smoking , he’s the best at them . constantly giggling at his stupid ass shit he says . little kisses cuz you just love his wierd annoying ass .

-has a tin for his joints , his brand logo sticker on the lid , has a polaroid of u and him in it and a hair tie for u . along with a condom lmao.

——-

-when reader gets kinda talkitive when she’s high , he don’t , he just wants to fuck . he’ll half listen for five mins “y/n bro . please shut up” grabs your face and immediately starts a heavy sloppy makeout .

-sat in his lap , he is the #1 shotgun(sharing smoke) lover

-u guys obviously have a shared playlist with songs u both love while u chill , but to be honest it’s mostly chris’s music

-loves a good group sesh with the whole group , and finds it absolutely hilarious to tease the fuck out of u and try not to get caught - you all go sit around your designated smoke table , after shotgunning you allways just stay on his lap and talk to the group . he then takes his chance to tease u as usual by putting his hand on your inner thigh , stroking it with his thumb before moving it over your *you know what* and gently stroking it like he did your thigh .

“cant sleep wanna smoke and chill” 3am texts constantly, you know exactly what chill means so your sprinting to your car everytime.

“STOP BEING SUCH A HOGGER AND SHARE BRO!!” “one drag baby , ……PLEASE BRO?!?” absolute fein for nicotine and steals your vapes after a joint . which usually leads to you just buying him his own. which he loses in about 30 seconds .

he talked u into smoking in the hot tub once but u managed to drop the entire joint in the water and had to roll him another , now they’re a fave place to smoke with him , claiming it “gets the brain juices flowing , y/n , im telling you!”

——

“can u fucking pass it over chris”

“chris bro i’ve barley had any”

“CHRISTOPHER !!! GIVE ME THE FUCKING JOINT U PRICK?!?!”

as much as he loves you , he loves the za more and will hog it on accident “hold on “y/n/n ,lemme just finish my sentence first hold on !”.

_______________

tags 🤍🤍

@lividnity @mangosrar @jcwrites-blog @sturnphilia

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Through The Bad And The Good｡⋆.

Dick Grayson x plus size reader

The one where Dickie and Dove break up and then get back together.

Warnings: break-up, some angst, fluff, mentions of abandonment issues, a little sadness, implied smut, getting back together

WC: 1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

The Graysons

There was something so inherently sad about a lone coffee mug in a cabinet. Was the absence of any more because the others broke or were they taken away? Or was this all there was?

The faded character of a fat orange cat professed that he 'h-ted mo-days', the ink slipping from the porcelain with each use. You stared at the mug blankly, just as you had all the rest of your belongings. It was all lopsided and wrong, each piece missing parts of themselves.

You sighed and looked away as you slumped down onto the counter, resting your cheek against the cool surface. Normally by now you would be cooking up a storm, preparing to feed an army of two but now you weren't doing anything.

“At least my grocery bill will be a hell of a lot cheaper.” You laughed to yourself, but really, you felt like crying.

The apartment was quiet, painfully so, and all you could think about was that stupid fucking mug.

You supposed that the breakup was inevitable, you had your shit and he had his and it was obvious that the relationship wasn't going anywhere. There was no screaming or breaking each other's things. There wasn't 'the other woman' or some wildly inappropriate friendship. It was a quiet discussion that ended with him looking at you solemnly from your front door before he shut it as he walked away.

Even if you both promised to remain friendly, he had not even texted you and your chest still burned with the pain of an awful breakup, the feeling that you've lost such a big person in your life forever.

“I don't think this is working.” You had been the one to break the tense silence of the bedroom. After yet another sleepless night where you both lay on the bed, backs facing each other, you were done.

His shoulders sagged. “I think so too.” He took your hand in his own and suddenly, it all felt like a good-bye. Tears rolled down your cheeks and you fell into his awaiting arms, his own sobs muffled against your hair.

Your eyes flicked back to the mug. “Fuck.” You got up and slammed the cabinet door shut. “Fuck him. Fuck this. I'm better off alone!”

You knew you were lying.

—————

Every trace of him had been scrubbed from your apartment by your friends who seemed all-too pleased that you had 'kicked him to the curb'. They never really hated Dick, you supposed they just wanted to support you.

But now, you kind of wish you had indulged them a bit more, letting them burn the small box of things that they had found after he moved out because now, you were spiralling.

The polaroid you took on your first date (he was so breathtakingly handsome, you couldn't believe that he asked you out), his favourite cereal spoon (it had a superman logo embossed on the bottom), and the Gotham City sweater you bought for him that still mysteriously smelt of him, even a month after he wore it last.

You slipped the soft material over your head before you could rationally think about it and suddenly that vice around your heart loosened just a fraction and you could breathe again.

Breaking up was the right thing to do.

Your life goals didn't line up.

He had responsibilities outside of you that were more important.

You never saw each other.

He never did the dishes and always left his underwear on the floor.

Women and men constantly flirted with him.

He was a trust-fund baby and a cop.

He was a vigilante with severe abandonment issues.

But god, he was so perfectly imperfect. He spoiled you rotten and worshipped the ground you walked on. He was honest and patient and kind. You blended so well into each other's friend groups. The chemistry was out of this world and he was by far the best lay you ever had. His family loved you. He had to have been sculpted by the gods with his chiselled body and boyish smile. He knew how to get you out of your shell while respecting your boundaries. He was strong. He was intelligent. He had manners. He was tall. He was passionate and giving. You could read each other so well it was almost frightening. He valued you.

You loved him, he loved you. And that's all that really mattered wasn't it.

Dick Grayson was your soulmate and you let him leave.

Your feet carried you out of your bedroom mindlessly. You slipped on your shoes and glanced over your shoulder towards the kitchen, where your lone coffee mug sat on the counter. Garfield's half-smile seemed to mock you.

You snatched it up. “I'm getting him back.” You insisted as you lay your hand on the doorknob. “I have to get him back.”

The door swung open.

And there he was, fist raised as if he were about to knock, a bouquet of flowers in his other hand. Time paused for a moment as you both took each other in.

His eyes were red and there were dark bags beneath them, he was just a little paler, a little more forlorn but he was still your Dick. He smiled then and everything else faded away.

“That's my favourite mug.”

“Those are my favourite flowers.” You retorted, making him chuckle. “Wanna come in?”

He looked hesitant for a moment. “I had a whole romantic gesture planned. I wanted to woo you.” He said in a tone very similar to a whine.

You smirked as you grabbed his collar, dropping the mug in the process, and yanked him into the apartment. Dick followed enthusiastically, his hands flying to your wide hips as he ducked down to brush his nose against yours.

“Woo me later, I need you now.”

“Yes ma'am.” As he carried you to the bedroom, the both of you too wrapped up in each other to even care about the shattered porcelain and crushed flowers on the floor, you knew that you had each other through the bad and the good.

And there was so much good coming your way.

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The Graysons

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[delopsia]

Polaroid | Bob Floyd x Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Light flashes. 

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

Click. 

That mechanical whirr sounds like...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hears you.

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

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

Always the quiet ones. 

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

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

Is he... "Are you jealous?"

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

Fuck fuck fuck you've struck a nerve. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it's easy to stand up properly. 

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

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

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

Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

Now you see why he was so distracted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A whimper rattles out from beneath you. 

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

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

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

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

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

A little too much for the man beneath you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The heat coiling in your abdomen snaps. 

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

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

A weighted blanket that gives lots and lots of kisses.

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

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

There he is. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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