#Watching and Waiting; Dash Comm

[gxrdenview]

"Wowee that uh...."

"That's a lotta people to disappoint, golly..."

[captainseamech]

Oh don't mind him. Don't mind him at all. He just saw his hubby from across the room

[inionnarequiem]

[Uladh]- "Stay safe wee ones... the veil is thin and memories are potent..."

[von-eldritch]

Certified annoying woman rizz™

[needlenxggin]

Nicolas D Wolfwood hand over the talking stick.

[hexellent]

Has been through enough therapy and near-death-experiences from attempting to ‘help’ that he doesn’t play the morality game much anymore.

“If someone needs my help, I’ll be there. But I’m a little too old to be getting into other’s business.”

[cynicallyscorned]

" ... " ... Hm.

[scumbag-the-hedgehog]

The wait for the debut of Winter's Sonic fills me with the same hype as the build-up for a big movie lmao

[roosterforme]

Mail Call | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After a long and illustrious Naval career, Bradley was used to months spent on an aircraft carrier. Nothing ever felt quite as good as a letter from home. He thought he knew what to expect this time, but you always made things more exciting.

Warnings: adult language, masturbation, horny love letter

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley had been in the Navy long enough to know when to expect a mail call. Maybe it was intuition or a sixth sense, but after so many years of deployments, he was certain. When he woke up on Tuesday, something told him to start getting excited. There would be a box with his name written in a familiar scrawl in his hands soon. "Commander Bradshaw." He turned to see a petty officer jogging along the interior corridor of the aircraft carrier with a clipboard in hand. "Sir, here's your schedule for the day." Bradley grunted and skimmed the sheet as he made his way up to the tower. The lightness he felt mere moments ago was replaced by annoyance. Back-to-back meetings filled every inch of the sheet, including a meeting that was scheduled for after dinner.

"Damn it," he muttered, taking the stairs two at a time. His plan to collect his parcel, enjoy a meal, and then head to his private bunk to read the letter was dashed. But he was still convinced that a Comanche helicopter would touch down on deck at some point this afternoon if the weather permitted. He'd get his mail when he could. He needed to wait a little longer to hear from you, which would make him grouchy in the interim.When he pushed open the heavy door to the tower, he greeted the collection of older officers by uttering just one word. "Admirals."

They all greeted him in response with a chorus of overworked voices, and then another clipboard was thrust into his hand. Attached to this one was a sheet detailing the flight schedules for the day, and sure enough, a smile curled along his lips below his mustache when he saw that a Comanche was slated to arrive at 1500 hours with the note US Airmail Transport.

God, a letter from you was sounding better by the minute. Your tone would be soft. You'd tell him how much you missed him. There would be something in there from-

"Commander Bradshaw. Let's get started with your pilots."

His musings were cut short, and he sighed before slipping the offered headset into place and testing out the comms. He was in charge of the training exercises for this deployment, and he needed to keep his mind clear so he could keep his aviators safe. It would do him no good to be focused on what might be happening back at home. He could read about it later.

But as the day wore on, the sky darkened, and storm clouds painted the horizon. When he called his team back to the carrier and watched them land one at a time, he asked the admirals, "Should we check in with the mail transport? It seems to have gone off schedule."

Lightning cut across the sky just as the comms crackled to life with a new voice. "This is Comanche. We're coming in low from the east, trying to avoid the rain. Are we clear to make a quick landing in seventeen minutes?"

Bradley listened to the air traffic team guide the helicopter in, and sure enough, the landing was low and loud, followed by another crack of lightning. He watched from his high vantage point as a team ran out in boots and rain slickers to collect bin after bin of mail, and now his hands were itching again. He could already feel the familiar weight of the box packed with his favorite snacks and some handmade artwork.

"Commander, you'll be late to meet with the pilots."

Bradley was once again yanked from his daydream of being at home where it was warm and dry and cozy, and he was faced with the prospect of having to duck outside into the storm to get to the meeting rooms on time.

The first gust of wind had him shivering and wishing he could grab his mail directly from the helicopter and head back to his bunk. The second gust left him cursing under his breath. He had to go lecture all of these young pilots about where they needed to improve before they could fly their mission, and he just didn't have the energy for it.

"Work now, reward later," he told himself, taking a deep breath and picturing your smile. That was enough to get him through the meetings. It was enough to get him back to his small office where he wrote up his notes for the day. It was even enough to get him all the way to the narrow hallway where the mail was being sorted.

But now there was a massive fucking line of officers in uniform waiting for the same thing he was. And to top it off, his stomach was growling. He could bail out of line, eat dinner, and come back later, hoping there was still someone there to disperse the mail before they closed up shop for the night. But it wasn't worth the risk. He'd be happy to skip dinner in favor of mail from you. It wasn't even a question in his mind.

When he finally reached the window and the rows of alphabetized bins, he told the officer in charge, "Bradshaw, Bradley," and then waited quite impatiently to have an ordinary looking cardboard box thrust into his hands. But his heart leapt with joy as soon as he held it and saw your handwriting. "Thank you."

The box felt a little lighter than usual. Maybe you didn't have time to load it up with as many snacks as you usually did. He hated leaving you for weeks and months at a time to deal with everything at home on your own. He loved being at home for the day to day grind. Loved it. But there was something unique about seeing how much things changed while he was gone.

He shook the box a little bit, curiosity getting the best of him. He passed the cafeteria and ran like a child to get back to his bunk as quickly as he could where he set the box down and tore into it. When he saw the three envelopes on top, he had to fight back his tears and take a deep breath.

He carefully picked up the envelope that said Daddy in purple crayon and opened it up to find several coloring sheets and a note written in light pink crayon that was a little hard to read.

Daddy,

I lost my first toooth. The toooth fairee took it. I got a glittery doller. I drew you the toooth and the fairee.

Love, Wren

Bradley found the corresponding page with a drawing of the tooth along with the tooth fairy. His daughter also wrote her name all over the back of the paper in every color crayon imaginable which made him smile. He read her note again before carefully placing it on his nightstand, and then he picked up the envelope that said Dad in black pen.

Dad,

When are you coming home? Fourth grade is so boring. We are learning how to write in cursive, but I already know how. Mom doesn't make the homework as fun as you do. Don't tell her I said that.

Actually everything is better when you're at home. I had a good report card, so mom let me get a skateboard. I covered it in bird stickers. I can almost stand on it for three seconds. Soccer tryouts are next week, and mom promised to take a video so you can watch it later. When are you coming home again? I'll make sure she doesn't delete the video.

Wren drew you a tooth fairy, but it looks like a demon. So then I started to try to draw the tooth fairy, and it looks really cool. It's on the back of the page. Please write back and tell us when you're coming home.

Love, Hawk

His son's version of the tooth fairy did look pretty cool, and now Bradley was cracking up as he took a second look at the one his daughter drew. Yeah, it was a bit frightening. He set both notes aside, finally ready to read what you had written to him. The third envelope said Bradley in your familiar handwriting, but his heart lurched into his belly. Instead of the thick envelope filled with page after page that he usually received from you, this one was light. His brow creased in concern as he opened it up to reveal just one sheet.

Bradley,

We miss you. The kids are mostly holding it together, but we're waiting until we know your return date to start a countdown. You know how much Wren cries when the countdown goes on for too long. Honestly, it makes me want to cry, too.

I could write you a novel about work and school and how much I miss you, but I thought it might just be more fun to show you. I got a little carried away with the camera a few nights ago when I couldn't sleep. I was too hot, and your pillow still smells like you. It smelled so good. I started thinking about what you and I will do when you get home. Then I couldn't stop. I literally could not stop touching myself, Bradley.

It never feels as good without you, but I do think some of the photos portray just how vivid my imagination was that night. Like I said, I got carried away.

Let us know when you'll be home.

Love, Your horny wife

Bradley immediately started digging through the box, and he soon realized you'd only included a thin layer of his favorite snacks. He scooped them out onto his bed and was left with some Polaroids. A lot of Polaroids.

"Holy shit," he whispered under his breath, reaching in and pulling out a photo of you wearing nothing but a tiny lace thong in his favorite shade of blue. He loved that thing. He loved taking it off of you. Your arm was covering your breasts in the photo, but that was okay. He had a vivid imagination.

Oh, but you didn't leave him hanging at all. The next one he grabbed was you sprawled out in bed, tits on full display, thong present and accounted for. You were biting down on your lip, and he could almost hear you moan. Your nipples were hard and looked just like they did after he had them in his mouth.

"God damn it, Baby. You're killing me." He missed his family. He missed being at home. But right now, all he could think about was fucking the absolute shit out of his wife.

Now he was looking at a beautiful shot of just your face, eyes closed, lips parted in pleasure. That was followed up by you bending over in the thong. And then one where you had your nose buried in his pillow.

There were so many photos, he was getting dizzy. And he was hard. He took a few seconds to unzip his khaki uniform pants while his eyes searched through the photos still inside the box. "Damn," he groaned, wrapping his right hand around his cock while he picked up one of the photos with his left.

You were straddling his pillow in your underwear. Literally grinding your pussy against it. Back arched, tits front and center, riding his pillow like it was his face. He really wished it was.

"Okay, Baby," he murmured, picking up another one while he stroked himself. Your hand was inside your thong. Another one where your blue thong was pulled to the side, showing off your pussy. Another one where you had two fingers knuckle-deep inside yourself. Another one where you were licking your wet fingers.

When he reached blindly into the box again, his hand connected with something softer next to the Polaroids. To his absolute delight, his fingers wrapped around that bit of fabric that he recognized right away. The blue thong. His cock jumped in excitement as he raised your panties slowly from the box and brought them all the way to his face. He knew. He knew you hadn't washed it. He just fucking knew this little thing was put in the box directly after you came all over it and dragged it down your soft legs.

His mouth watered as he pressed it to his nose. Eyes squeezed shut, he inhaled the scent of your arousal. He moaned your name. He could practically taste you as he rutted into his own hand. Bradley inhaled and exhaled your smell, running the lace along his nose, mustache and lips. The fabric was soft on his face, and he could picture you teasing him with it.

He would do anything to have you right now. He wanted you bent over the end of the bed, sobbing and begging him to go harder. He wanted your sweet voice in his ear. He wanted you on your knees. He wanted to bury his face in your pussy until you screamed.

"Jesus Christ," he whined, panting as he jerked himself off. All he could smell was you. It smelled like home and being in love. He couldn't get enough as he rubbed your thong all over his face before lowering it down to his cock. The lace felt exquisite as he ached with need. The fabric glided along in his hand, creating a friction that left him groaning.

He jerked himself off slowly, trying to make it last as long as he could, but the Polaroids were all he could see, and your pussy was all he could smell. He came all over your thong, ribbons of white decorating it while he held onto the wall for support.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered, voice harsh as he drained every drop onto the lace. He held the sticky mess in his hand and huffed out a surprised laugh. From thousands of miles away, you did this to him. This was different from the mail he usually received from you, but he wasn't complaining. He got a nice update on what was happening at home plus a lot more than he bargained for.

Bradley walked into his tiny bathroom and draped your thong over the sink faucet before washing his hands. Maybe he'd have time to grab some dinner before returning to his bunk to write back to you, Hawk, and Wren. He had so much to say. Especially to you. He'd set himself up in bed with one of his clipboards and tell you all about what you made him do.

"Oh, shit," he told his reflection in the mirror as he thought about his clipboard again. "Fuck!"

He had one more meeting left. Starting in just minutes. He eased his cock back into his pants, still zipping up as he left his bunk. Then he walked while discreetly trying to tuck his shirt in and straighten out his uniform.

The further he got from your wrecked underwear, the more he realized he could still smell you. He was going to be able to smell you all night. This was going to be a painfully long meeting. And the letter he wrote to you later was going to be as dirty as your underwear.

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

Thanks for reading! It's been a while since I posted a Bradley one-shot, and this one was hanging out in my drafts for a bit. Much love for a DILF. Hope you enjoy your Valentine's Day as much as Bradley enjoyed his mail!

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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@glenpowellluver

[guilty-pleasures21]

an idea just comes to me how about jason and reader are joyriding the batmobile when patrolling then one of them suggests a “detour”. Long story shortttttt you know how the batmobile always has a tracker and bruce finds out about them and what theyre doin, ends up bruce asked them to go back to batcave through comms and lecturing them or or or whatever suitable for them

Hmm, this turned out really short 😬. I hope it's okay, though! I did still work hard on it 😅.

The detour

Warnings: suggestive acts (male x female).

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

     Jason keeps a loose grip on the wheel as the two of you sit in an isolated alleyway in the Batmobile. You’d been patrolling Gotham for about two hours now and had already managed to stop a robbery and a gang of drunken troublemakers, but that was all the excitement you’d had for the night: most of them time had been spent sitting in silence, keeping an eye out on the darkened alleyways that meandered off the main roads of the city. So, you finally decide to reach for the watch on Jason’s wrist and switch off his comms before leaning over to murmur in his ear. 

     “You know, we could take a little break,” you suggest softly, your mind running wild with ideas on all the things you could get up to with your deliciously hot boyfriend in private. “The city’s been pretty quiet and I don’t think anyone will miss us for a few minutes.” 

     Jason turns to face you and raises an eyebrow when he sees the naughty smile stretched across your features. “What were you thinking, baby? Pizza in the Batmobile?” 

     He watched quietly as you bit your lip and shook your head and his stomach flipped with excitement when you slid your fingers over his thigh, bringing them tantalisingly close to his centre. “I was thinking … we could go up to that scenic spot near North Point? The one the teenagers always like to go to?” 

     Jason’s lips curl at the ends and your entire body heats up as he drags his eyes over you, eagerly taking note of all the parts of you he so obviously plans on tasting. “Mmhmm. And what were you thinking about doing when we got there?” 

     He spread his legs a little wider, silently hinting to you exactly what he wanted you to do to him, but you just giggled softly and patted his thigh. 

     “That’s for me to know and you to find out, sweetheart,” you tell him before settling back into your seat. Jason shakes his head in disappointment, but the mischievous smile stays plastered across his face as he drives the two of you up to the cliffs overlooking the Gotham river. You double-check that both your comms units are turned off, then you wait patiently as your boyfriend parks the car in a secluded spot. 

     “Privacy at last,” Jason mutters, leaning over the console to cup your cheek in his hand. You let out another giddy little laugh and that dashing grin lights up his features again before he finally presses his lips to yours. You moan softly as his tongue brushes against your own, filling up your mouth with the delicious coffee and musk taste of him, and Jason snickers at the sound before trailing his fingers down your body. You suck in a breath as he gently traces the outline of your curves, setting your every nerve alight, but you wait until his hand lands on your waist before grabbing his shoulders and pushing him back in his seat. 

     “About time,” you agreed, climbing over the console to straddle his lap. Jason’s heart sped up as you shot him a devious smile and he slid his arms around to cup your ass as you began kissing him again. 

     You giggle softly into Jason’s mouth as you run your hands all over his chest and shoulders, admiring the deliciously hard planes of his muscled body, and he squeezes your ass when you slide your fingers into his hair. 

     “Mmm, f*ck,” he moaned, shivering lightly as you trailed your fingertips down the back of his neck. Shit, he loved it when you did that. You bend your fingers as if you’d heard his thoughts, using your nails now to tickle the tip of his spine, and Jason moved his hands to grab your thighs as his eyes rolled back in his head with pleasure. 

     You laugh at the uncharacteristically dazed look on your rough, vigilante boyfriend’s rugged features, then you roll your hips lightly against his as you bring your mouth to his neck and nip his skin playfully. 

     “Shit, you’re drivin’ me crazy, princess,” Jason chuckled softly, coaxing another sweet little moan out of you and a deeper roll of your hips against his. He let out a choked gasp at the feeling, then began reciprocating your movements, thrusting his hips up against yours as you continued biting and licking his neck. Shit, you were so hot! So sweet and so beautiful and f*ck, he’d never thought he’d ever be lucky enough to have his gorgeous best friend be just as secretly in love with him as he’d always been with you. F*ck. 

     “Jay,” you laugh softly, amused - and also delighted - by his eager thrusts and grunts. He always got riled up by you so easily and it warmed your heart to know just how much he adored you, just how beautiful he found you. 

     You sat back and held onto his shoulder as you began grinding your hips into his and Jason swore his brain physically shut down for a second at how f*cking sexy you looked, biting down on your cheeky little smile as you rocked your hips rhythmically against his. “You’re so … You’re so beautiful, baby.” 

     You laugh at his words, slurred with his rapidly growing arousal, then flick your hair over your shoulder and lean closer to him. “Thanks, Jay. And I’m all yours, can you believe that?” 

     Jason flashes you another stupefied smile and nods eagerly in agreement as he grabs at your waist and cheek. “All … All mine, sweetheart.” 

     You press your lips to his, obliging his silent request for another kiss, but you keep it short, pulling away quickly to lower yourself between his legs. 

     “What …” He frowned as you broke your kiss, pulling your soft curves and your dizzying warmth away from him. But then you tugged his zip and he lost his focus again when he saw you looking up at him with an irresistibly adorable little pout. 

     “Take it off, baby,” you whined, grabbing the waistband of his trousers and pulling at it commandingly. F*ck, he loved it when you called him that. Jason reached for his trousers, ready to rip them off along with his underwear. 

     “Jason? Y/N?” 

     “F*ck!” Jason exclaims when Bruce’s voice comes over the speakers. He pulls his trousers higher up his waist, snatching them out of your grasp, and you quickly scramble back into your seat, smoothing out your suit and hair.

     “I’d appreciate it if the two of you returned to the Batcave,” Bruce continues, his voice strained with obvious discomfort. “Immediately.” 

     You glance over at Jason, fighting against a guilty smile, but the moment your eyes meet his, the two of you burst into embarrassed laughter. 

     “Shh!” you hiss at him, patting his arm as you try to contain your laughter, but that only makes him laugh even harder. “Jason!” 

     “Way to be cockblocked by my own dad,” Jason chuckles, starting up the Batmobile again. You giggle giddily at his words and reach across the console to pay his knee. 

     “Do you think he’s going to be really mad?” you ask.

     “Do I think my dad is going to be mad enough at me to talk to me about sex?” Jason questions, his tone amused. “What do you think, babydoll?” 

     You let out another adorable laugh and Jason felt his cheeks start to hurt with how much he kept smiling. Soon, he pulled into the Batcave and you grabbed onto his arm as the two of you walked towards Bruce. 

     “What’s up, Bruce?” Jason asks, his demeanour nonchalant as he waits for him to turn around. Bruce sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he leans over the Batcomputer. 

     “The Batmobile,” he begins finally, turning around to face the both of you but studiously avoiding your gazes, “is not a joyride vehicle. It is a piece of high-tech equipment meant for crime-fighting and emergency responses—not for... personal activities."

     “What do you think they did?” Tim asked Dick and Steph as they watched the two of you carefully from across the cave. 

     “No idea,” Stephanie replied, grinning widely as a number of possibilities ran through her mind. “But it must've been good if Bruce called them back for it.”

     “Maybe they took the Batmobile to get some fast food,” Dick suggested, stretching his arms out behind his head as he leaned back in his seat. “Classic rookie move.”

     Stephanie stifled a snort, earning a sharp look from Bruce that quickly silenced all of them. Then he turned back to Jason and X.

     “All right! We get it!” Jason surrendered before Bruce could begin speaking again. “No more detours. Are we done here?” Shit, it was bad enough that he’d had to make sure to tamp down his stiff arousal before he’d gotten out of the Batmobile, now he had to spend the rest of the night listening to the old man lecture him when he could have been spending it in bed with you? 

     You tug Jason’s sleeve, shooting him a frown to let him know that you didn’t approve of his rude tone, and he sighs before finally allowing a hint of shame to show through his demeanour. 

     “We won’t do it again. Promise,” Jason reiterates. Bruce rubs his temples as he considers Jason’s sincerity and you shoot him your most innocent smile to try to convince him further. 

     “All right,” Bruce finally relents, waving the two of you off. “But if this happens again-”

     “It won’t, Bruce! We promise!” you interrupt him quickly, knowing he’ll take your word more seriously than Jason’s. Bruce folds his arms across his chest and nods at the two of you in dismissal before turning back to his computer. 

     “So?” Dick asked when you were close enough to hear him. “What did the two of you do?”

     “Yeah, Bruce seemed extra grumpy,” Steph chimes in, her eyes sparkling with delighted curiosity. “Which is really saying something! It must have been good.” 

     Jason bites his lip as he slides an arm around your waist, and shrugs at the group nonchalantly. 

     “Come on!” Tim whined, desperate now to know what you’d done to fluster the Bruce Wayne so badly. 

     You lower your head, letting your hair fall in front of you face to hide your guilty smile, but unfortunately, Dick just manages to catch a glimpse of it. 

     “Were you making out?” he asks, his lips curling into a knowing smirk as he waits for your response. You shuffle in position shyly, then press yourself into Jason’s side as his grip on you tightens. 

     Damn, you were cute when you got all shy like that. He wanted to lean over and murmur in your ear some joke about you not being shy earlier in the car, just to see that adorable little blush flood your cute little cheeks, but that could be left to when you were finally alone together again. In his bed. Utterly and completely naked with nothing - and no one - to stop him from claiming you as his own. “Let’s just say I did not know the Batmobile’s seats could recline that far.” 

     A blanket of silence fell over the room as the others tried to understand Jason’s statement. Then finally, they all burst into a chorus of groans. 

     “Oh, gross, Jason!” Stephanie chided, clutching her stomach as she pretended to retch.      

     “Seriously?” Tim winced, gagging at the very thought. “In the Batmobile? I have to drive that thing!”

     Dick shook his head as he straightened in his seat, clearly trying hard to suppress an impressed laugh. “I can’t decide which one of you is the worse influence.” 

     “Excuse me?!” you scoff, exaggerating the offence you take at the statement. 

     “Well, Jason would have never done something like this before you guys started dating,” Dick pointed out, “but you would have never done something like this either.” 

     “Maybe they just both bring out the worst in each other,” Stephanie suggested, prompting another insulted gasp out of you. You step forward, your temper getting the best of you, but then an alternative idea for revenge strikes you. 

     “Jay,” you begin, spinning around to his front and wrapping your arms around his neck, “should we go back to your place? Where we can get a little more privacy?” 

     His breath caught in his throat at the feeling of your soft curves pressing up against him, but his arms came around you instinctively, squeezing you against him even more intimately. He lowered his mouth to your neck, catching onto what you were trying to do and flashed his siblings a mischievous smile. “Sure, baby. But what were you planning on doing with ‘a little more privacy’?” 

     “No!” Tim interrupted you quickly, shaking his head vigorously. “Don’t! Just … Just go home! Take it out of here. Go somewhere private.” 

     Your boyfriend chuckles at Tim’s vehement tone and begins guiding you over to his bike. “All right. See you guys whenever.” 

     “See you, Jay!” the other chorus in response.

[calcifiedunderland]

How are we feeling about bullet points of Idia and a Lighthouse?

💌💀🩵Request received! Thank you for your message! Your delivery is ready~

Thank you for your request anon!! Enjoy 🫶🩵

Idia Shroud, ft. Lighthouse

🩵 Portfest had finally come to Sage’s Island! You were excited for the mini-getaway. You’d even began helping Ortho advertise the smoothies that the others were selling too. At some point, Ortho asked you to check on Idia.

🩵 You’d decided to take a break and go visit your other friends. Eventually, you found Idia at the Craft-Your-Own-Waffle area with Cater and Epel. You’ve earned a waffle, you thought.

🩵 You got your waffle in less than a minute. “Woah, that was fast!” Idia popped up from behind the counter, grinning smugly, “whee-hee-hee~ The Port Fest Waffle Iron Portable MAX Custom works like a charm~”

🩵 He promptly launched into a long explanation of how it works. You understood none of it, but you were happy to just see Idia (though the heat it gave off nearly melted you).

🩵 Soon, you were sweating from both the sun’s heat and the machine’s heat. You subtly looked around. Everywhere was crowded. You spied a building tucked away in the corner, and had an idea. But you just needed someone to go with you, so if you got in trouble, at least you had company.

🩵 Grim was off somewhere (probably scarfing down his own waffle. You’d let him have his moment.), and Epel and Cater looked busy with the stand. You glanced at Idia, an idea forming.

🩵 “Hey, Idia? Wanna come with me for a sec on a side quest?” That got his attention. “H-huh? Sidequest?” His eyes widened, “where?!” “Just trust me,” you said, wiping sweat from your brow.

🩵 You dragged him to the building. As you drew closer, you saw a sign. “Huh, this is the Sage Island Memorial Lighthouse,” you nodded at the sign. “Good to know!” You promptly opened the door, and Idia yelped. Well, at least he’s getting a break from the chatterbox normies.

🩵 “Are we even allowed to be in here?!” You shrugged, too dehydrated and sweaty to question your morals. “It’ll be for a second, promise.” You sat down in the dimness, the AC blowing on you. The bottom floor of the lighthouse was renovated - probably just closed off to the public for now.

🩵 Idia stared, wide eyed, and shuffled his feet. His tablet floated beside him, “we should probs go?? This is kinda spooky ngl”

🩵 Honestly, you thought this place was cool. Maritime paintings, awards, and photos studded the walls. You spied a spiral staircase leading upwards. You pursed your lips at him, “nope. Let’s go!”

🩵 You dashed up the steps while Idia yelped, “w-wait!” You heard him mutter, “sure, go ahead, leave me,” before hearing his footsteps behind you. You grinned at him over the stairwell above him, “where’s your sense of adventure?!”

🩵 “Idia! C’mon, live a little,” you tugged his sleeve. Idia just looked even more skittish, “ya I’d rather not go in the haunted lighthouse room thx-“ You tugged him into the room.

🩵 Inside were the mainframe switches and buttons for controlling the lighthouse. You hummed, looking around while Idia followed you warily, tablet floating behind him. He looked around curiously while you grinned at him.

🩵 You walked outside to the balcony and eagerly peered over the edge. “The portfest is so busy! This is so cool~” you hummed, watching the people go by. “Idia! Check this out!”

🩵 Meanwhile, Idia just looked, wide eyed, at the old mainframe of the lighthouse. “Whee hee~ So this is what old-timey marine comms looked like!” He grinned manically, “ngl this is top tier~”

🩵 This was actually so cool. Idia grew more and more excited looking at the lighthouse tech. So this is how they’d use these…! He grinned. Idia’s hair flames grew more and more intense until-

🩵 “IDIA!” The light grew blinding, and eventually caught onto the main pyre of the lighthouse. From below, Ortho could see the lights from the beacon in the dimmed port. When he scanned and saw your and Idia’s signatures, he hummed happily. “They must be having fun~”

…i confess that I do not understand how lighthouses work. All of this is Very Very Inaccurate, please forgive me 🙏😭

Anyway, thanks for reading!!! Until next time, xoxo Calci~

[velvetsainz]

summary: [ cl16 x fem!reader ] charles is in maranello but that doesn't mean he can't help. part one.

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), porn with a dash of plot, use of explicit language, phone/skype sex, masturbation, toys, overstimulation, praise kink, google-translated french (kay strikes again), fluff, i still really like em dashes

a/n: part twooooooooo! (you can totally read this before part i—this is just a sister smutlet ;) ) i've been really pleased with the response to part i, so i was super duper motivated to get this cranked out for you guys. there's mentions to previous encounters, and i'm very tempted to flesh those out in the future along with the allusions to future events. anyways, eat up! enjoy, loves! xx

You could be a tease, but Charles Leclerc was a bigger one.  

“Charles, I swear to God that—”

“That what, chérie? Hm?,” he asked as he quirked an eyebrow to you, waiting for you to answer as he watched over the Skype call.  You let out a frustrated sigh, sinking back into the bed and allowing your thighs to relax once more.

“So impatient, mon ange…,” he chided, hand working slowly, lazily over his length.  You were on the doorstep of your climax when he’d suddenly cut the power to the delicious little bullet in your hand.  He’d been teasing you for a solid thirty minutes now, listening to soft moans and needy whines as he built you up before allowing your orgasm to recede away once more.

You scoffed, brow furrowing and lid heavy with need.  “Well yes, but-but–,” you stammered as you tried to think of some good reason why you just needed to come.  You couldn’t—no reason that would be particularly compelling when he was like this.

As much as you enjoyed your games with your fiancé, your thighs were beginning to cramp and you swore you were going to have to change the sheets now, too.

You’d gotten on your usual Wednesday night call, mood worse than usual.  It’d been a long day and you were just ready to put it all behind you, bury yourself in the fluffy duvet of your shared bed, and scroll TikTok aimlessly for a few hours to allow yourself the time to rot in peace.

Charles, on the other hand, had other ideas.  If he’d been there, he’d have happily buried his head between your legs until you couldn’t put together a coherent thought and the tension had melted from your shoulders and jaw.  Seeing as he was in Maranello, though, he had to find another way to get you in a better headspace.

Enter: the vibrator.

Well, a remote-controlled bullet.  One that he could control with an app on his phone, the bastard. Some men found toys in the bedroom to be a competitor, but the Monégasque saw them as an accomplice of sorts; they were friends, not enemies.

In the moment, though, the little fucker sure as hell seemed like an enemy to you.

“Please, baby,” you whined for him, pouting with glossy eyes to the camera, “you already know it’s been a long day.”

Charles hummed, taking pity on you as he turned the vibe on once more to a low-power setting. You took a stunted breath, eyes closing as pleasure rolled through you once again.  The sound went straight to his cock, angry red in his hand as precum leaked over the vice grip he held it in.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” you whimpered fervently as the toy kicked up another speed, sending you careening towards your climax.

“I wish I could be there, chérie,” he coaxed as he watched you start panting once again, breaths coming in stuttering bursts with whines trapped in the back of your throat. “J'adore entendre tous ces jolis sons, ma jolie,” Charles purred, pulling a particularly pitiful moan from you. He laughed as he ticked the power up another notch, “Oui—juste comme ça, chérie.”

You could feel your orgasm coming at you hot and fast, mouth falling open as your hips dug into the soft material of the mattress.  A tear spilled from the corner of your eye at the sheer sting of need coming into full view, one of your hands planting hard into the bed beside you as your eyes rolled back in reflex.

“Charles, please, I-I-I—”

“C’est bon, minette,” he soothed, his own desire starting to rear its head, “Let go—let it all go for me, mm?” He set the devilish little toy onto full blast, and you didn’t wait for him to rethink his offer.

You babbled half-coherently as something melted in the pit of your belly, washing over your senses until your ears rang and your legs buzzed.  You could feel your sweat pooling in the small of your back as loose strands of hair stuck to your forehead and neck from the matching sheen that covered them, and your partner had turned the bullet to its lowest power setting to nurse you through the aftershocks that rocked your hips.  You were well and truly dripping at this point, a small wet spot forming under you on the white sheets. You really should have put down a towel before you got yourself into this mess.

But with no warning, as you basked in the afterglow of a much-needed orgasm, the toy went into full power once more.  Your eyes shot open and hips jolted away from the sensation as you looked to the screen after a moment of realization.  “Baby, no, I–t-too sensiti—,” you started to whimper to Charles as you heard the sounds of his own pleasure growing more prominent.

“Yes, mon ange,” he said firmly, hazel eyes dark with pleasure, “Just one more—I know you can.”  He watches as your brow furrows once more and your hand disappears between your legs once again.  Never did he ever think he could be so jealous of a fucking hand.

You mewled as you fought the stuttering of your hips each time you pressed the toy to your already-aching clit.  Still, in no time you were there once again, and Charles cursed and muttered under his breath as he watched the show you put on for him.

“Merde—”

“Such a good girl, yes—”

“Going to fuck you so good—”

“Fuck…fuck—”

He grunted your name once more and came with a growl, jaw slack as he spilled over the fist that held him so tightly. Meanwhile, you were coming down with glazed eyes and parted lips, breathing hard as you let out a quiet “fuck.”

“Oui,” Charles agreed teasingly as his head dropped back behind him lazily.

Toy discarded onto the bed next to you, you rolled onto your side to face him on the video call. “Why do you have to work so far away sometimes?,” you grumbled rhetorically, pouting as your body pooled in one of his old t-shirts and your breathing started to match something more normal.  Your body had lost the tension it had been carrying, those dual orgasms working to relieve the stress you’d felt when you’d started the call.  Still, a toy was a poor replacement for the man on the other side of the call, and you wanted him there with you more than you’d wanted that first orgasm.  You hated making him feel bad about being away, but damn did you need to be fucked within an inch of your life right about now.

He tsked softly, lifting his head once more to see your pout.  “I know, mon cœur,” he nodded, adjusting the lid of his laptop to angle more towards his face, “but if I didn’t come to Maranello, I wouldn’t get anything done. We’d be like bunny rabbits—like Corsica.”

Memories of that trip came back, causing your tummy to flip at thought.  You really had fucked like rabbits on that trip, and no surface was safe from the fury of your shared lust. Nothing was sacred and anywhere that had just enough privacy was good enough for one to start tormenting the other with their fingers…their lips…their—

“I don’t see why that’s a problem,” you teased back, smile finding your lips once more as you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly.  One elbow helped prop your head up while the other hand rested between the soft skin of your thighs.

“My sunburn disagreed,” Charles chuckled as you found yourself laughing with him.  “I looked like a…a—what’s the word? Homard?”

“Lobster?,” you chimed in with a smirk as you remembered just how red he’d been. You swore you‘d slather a metric shit ton of aloe on him during that holiday. The way he’d keep you warm in the cold showers, though…

“Yes, a lobster,” he sighed, dropping his head into his hands at the thought.  “Chérie, it hurt so bad—and Carlos wouldn’t wouldn’t stop laughing at me in the paddock in Spa!”

“But you would taste wonderful dipped in butter!”

“You are an idiot, chérie.”

“And knowing that, you still wanted me to be your wife.  So who’s the bigger idiot in this equation, baby?”

[captainseamech]

//live ocean man reaction @ my dash

[the-winter-spider]

The Last Countdown | Drabble

Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Angst, death

A/N: Posted the happy new years fic now heres the sad one

----

The call came in late that afternoon, the kind of mission no one wanted on New Year’s Eve but couldn’t afford to ignore. A rogue Hydra cell had surfaced, armed with a weapon too dangerous to leave unchecked. The four of you scrambled into gear—there was no time to waste.

“Quick in, quick out,” Steve had assured everyone during the briefing. “Minimal risk.”

Bucky glanced at you as the Quinjet roared to life. You’d squeezed his hand, giving him a confident smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “We’ll be back in time to watch the ball drop.”

He’d nodded, even though the unease twisting in his gut hadn’t let up since the mission briefing. Something felt off, but he couldn’t bring himself to voice it. Instead, he leaned closer, brushing his lips against your temple. “Be careful, doll.”

The mission started smoothly enough. The Hydra base was tucked away in a dense forest, its defenses formidable but not insurmountable for the team. Steve led the charge, while you and Bucky partnered up to dismantle a line of armed guards patrolling the perimeter.

“Watch my six,” you called over your shoulder as you sprinted toward a control panel near the base’s entrance.

“Always,” Bucky replied, firing off a clean shot that dropped an approaching guard before they could get close to you.

The four of you moved like a well-oiled machine, systematically clearing the base room by room. But as you entered the heart of the facility—a vast, dimly lit chamber housing the weapon you were there to neutralize—the operation spiraled out of control.

“Trap!” Natasha’s voice crackled over the comms as the doors slammed shut behind you and Bucky. The chamber lit up with blinding red lights, and the sound of machinery powering up filled the air.

“Y/N, get down!” Bucky shouted, grabbing your arm and pulling you behind a stack of crates just as the first explosion rocked the room.

The Hydra weapon—some kind of energy-based bomb—was unstable, and its protective casing had been compromised in the crossfire. Every shot fired, every explosion, seemed to hasten its countdown.

“We need to disable it now!” you yelled, scanning the room for any sign of the device’s control panel.

“On it!” Bucky moved to cover you as you dashed toward a console near the weapon.

But then you saw it—a Hydra operative in the shadows, raising a grenade launcher aimed directly at Bucky.

“Bucky, move!”

You didn’t think. You just acted. Sprinting toward him, you pushed him out of the way as the grenade hit its mark, detonating with deafening force.

The blast threw you both across the room. Pain lanced through your side as you hit the ground hard, gasping for air. You looked down to see blood pooling beneath you, a jagged piece of shrapnel embedded deep in your abdomen.

“Y/N!” Bucky scrambled to your side, his metal arm trembling as he pressed his hand against the wound. “No, no, no. You’re gonna be okay. Just hang on, alright?!”

Your vision blurred as the weapon’s countdown ticked closer to zero. “Bucky… you have to… disable it…”

“Forget the weapon!” he shouted, his voice breaking. “I’m not leaving you!”

Steve’s voice came through the comms, frantic. “Buck, we need that device deactivated now, or it’s taking out the whole forest—and us with it!”

You grabbed Bucky’s hand, your grip weak but insistent. “Go, Bucky. Please… save them, Ill wait okay? Il wait.”

“No!” He shook his head, tears streaming down his face. “I’m not leaving you, baby. Don’t ask me to do that, please, I cant, I cant..."

But your strength was fading fast, and you knew there was no other way. “You’re stronger than this, Buck… you can, please, for me?"

For a moment, he hesitated, torn between saving you and stopping the weapon. Then Steve’s voice came through again, yelling about the countdown—seconds left now. "For you.." He breathed out

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the chaos.

Bucky pressed a kiss to your forehead, his tears mingling with the blood staining your skin. “I love you too, doll. Always.”

And then he was gone, running toward the device. You watched him through dimming eyes, your chest aching not from the pain of the wound but from the knowledge that this would most likely be the last time you’d see him and that hurt more than any wound.

You reached up tearing your comms out of your ear, you couldn't handle 2 more goodbyes, all you had in you was one. You could feel it, death, looming in the corners of your vision, pulling you in but you fought it with everything you had left because you wanted those blue eyes to be the last thing you saw, not some dingy hydra roof. You sighed when you heard the machine powering down. You could feel him, "I waited” You mumbled.

The clock on the wall read 11:52 PM. Only 8 minutes until the New Year. But time was the furthest thing from Bucky's mind as he cradled you in his arms amidst the rubble.

“Stay with me, baby, please,” he pleaded, voice cracking under the weight of his desperation. His gloved hand pressed against the wound in your abdomen, but it was too late. You knew it.

Your trembling hand reached up to touch his cheek, brushing away the tears streaking his face. “I’m sorry… I thought we had more time…”

“No, don’t—don’t talk like that,” he choked, shaking his head as if sheer force of will could keep you alive. “We’re gonna go home. I’ll take care of you, I promise I’ll take care of you, You’re gonna be okay sweetheart, you gotta be.”

“Your eyes….” A weak smile tugged at your lips, the kind that had once lit up his entire world but now only broke his heart. “I love you, Bucky. Always.”

The words were barely a whisper, and then you were gone.

Bucky froze, his entire body going cold. The sounds of the battle around him faded to nothing, drowned out by the unbearable silence of your absence.

--

Hours later, back at the compound, Steve found him in your shared room, still clutching the small velvet box he had intended to give you the next morning. The ring inside, simple and elegant, was supposed to be a promise of the future you’d never have.

“I was going to ask her tomorrow,” Bucky murmured, his voice hollow. “New Year’s Day. A fresh start. It was supposed to be my year Stevie, finally.”

Steve placed a hand on his shoulder "Buck.." He started, but Bucky shrugged it off, stepping away. “Why, Steve?” he asked, turning to face his oldest friend with tears streaming down his face. “What did I do to deserve this? Huh? What kind of life is this—watching everyone I love get ripped away from me? I—” He broke off, his hands curling into fists. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t.”

Steve tried to respond, but Bucky didn’t wait to hear it. He walked out into the freezing night, leaving behind the remnants of his broken heart and the dream of a life he’d never have.

The New Year arrived, but for him, it felt like the end of everything.

[von-eldritch]

The sweetheart neckline was a deliberate choice.

[needlenxggin]

"It's also a lot of work to maintain a prosthetic that's actually hooked up to your nervous system and needs to be in order to function. Does have it's benefits though."