I'll take any fluff, 18+ nsfw, dark romance, suggestive content, and angst. I will write for alternate universe, characterxcharacter, characterxreader, or even plain character fics without a love interest. Look at the names of upcoming posts and help me choose which draft to work on! This will have frequent updates, new character additions, and some upcoming fic names. Happy reading!!
Bob Floyd
The Skin We Can Touch prt1 ꒷꒦, part2 ꒷꒦ (Work in Progress)
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Warning: Fluff!! A little cuteness aggression, playfully biting.
Relationships: Robert 'Bob' Floyd x reader
Summary: Bob has to deal with some cuteness aggression from you, in the form of biting while he is trying to cook dinner.
Notes: I will always try to make them as 'reader' friendly as possible and avoid any physical details. Let me know if any slip in. Masterlist. I hope you enjoy
You didn't intend to do it. There was no thought behind the action. A slight scrape of your teeth would have been enough, pressing them lightly against his arm. But that didn't happen, instead, you captured his bicep between your incisors in a more rabid fashion. His skin cuddled around your teeth with the pressure. You were sure it would draw welts. The perfect indentment to form the impression of your bite. A mark of affection.
There was the sound of air being drawn between teeth, a soft hissing noise when you let yourself grind your teeth harder into his arm. "Ah ah," he began pulling away, coaxing you to stand between him and the counter instead of behind him. "What was that for?" he asked, although his smile was unsure. He cupped your face, thumbs pressing against your cheeks and stroking the skin as if to soothe you. "You have teeth like a piranha." That almost caused you to laugh, as if your bite was anything other than something pulled out because of genuine affection. Besides, you could have bitten him harder if. You haven't broken his skin or anything. His thumbs adjusted their pressure enough to feel teeth on the other side of your cheeks while you were looking at the mark on his arm, the indentment of teeth a pale mark.
You adjusted your attention slightly and looked up at him, feeling all warm from his presence. There was still the smell of engine oil clinging to his clothes, something you had grown to love over time. You showed your teeth at his choice of words, a sudden grin and snapped your teeth playfully. He didn't flinch, of course he wouldn't, but there was a change in his smile. It didn't seem so hesitant anymore, it was a little wider and had something playful in it. "You looked so domestic and cute. I wanted to bite you. I couldn't help myself. I wanted to take a bite."
“A bite...” he murmured softly and leaned over to kiss your forehead. The gentle pressure of his lips against your skin almost made you melt into his arms. The simple gesture had your eyes fluttering shut, cheeks flushing with warmth, and your arms wrapping around his waist to hold onto him. He kissed your forehead again, and again, as if making up for ignoring you while tending to dinner. You fought the smile, you really did, but with every peppered kiss that landed firmly upon your face it only brought out the expression. There was no defiance in soaking up every morsel of attention, you were like a sponge that way; seeking out anything and everything and taking it all.
“You,” a kiss in that space between cheek and nose where a warm flush had begun, “can be,” another on the opposite side, “such a,” and the last on your lips. It was firm as the other, at first, a little too hard on the front of your teeth with the pressure, but it easily transitioned into a languid display. His last word was forgotten against the presence of your mouth against his own, as if you had stolen the last word from his mouth and held it captured. You let him pull you into his orbit, meeting his kiss with slow and deliberate reciprocation. You felt pliable beneath his touch; something to be moulded. The pressure on your jaw shifting slightly as he hummed softly against your mouth, taking his time to place a couple of soft pecks against your lips and then using his grip on your face to tilt it back a little more to get the angle he wanted. A curling warmth started surrounding your organs, swaddled in his hold. You took advantage, bringing the smallest amount of his bottom lip between your teeth where you could scrape at it, dragging against it gently and hearing his breath catch raggedly.
He broke the kiss. It wasn’t far, but it felt like miles away when he pulled back just a little. There was still the shared breath, his body leaning over you with eagerness, and his hands cradling your face as if you were some ancient relic requiring delicate handling. You watched him. He was starring at you, no…. Something else, something that felt so much more invasive and attention oriented. His eyes were all over you. They traced the curve of your chin, lingered on your mouth and the way it was slightly open with tingling lips. It wasn't until he was taking in the sight of your eyes, resting only on him, that it pulled a breathless smile from you. As if you needed him to look you in the eyes for any amount of life to come back into your expression.
When you noticed he wasn't leaning back in for another kiss, you rested your chin against his chest, and it allowed you to stare up at him easily. His hands leave their place on your jaw to trail higher where they stroke your hairline in slow strokes. “C’mere, no more biting. Please. I can’t go in with teeth marks all over my arms.” He pulled you in close, his arms going over your shoulders as he continued tending to your dinner on the counter. It always felt like you became something else in his arms, something more of yourself that was safe within the confines of home. “Hmph,” you sighed against his chest, nuzzling against him further as your hands slipped under his top, bunching it up slightly while resting them against his lower back. Slowly, your fingers trailed along his back in a soothing motion. They crept up, tracing his spine before falling back down again with your nails carefully digging into his skin. Not enough to draw welts, but enough to catch on the ones from a few hours ago and cause his muscles to tense beneath your fingers. "I feel like nothing is ever truly mine." you murmured against his chest. "But... I think you are. I want to see every part of you, underneath all the layers of you."
There was the firm pressure of his mouth against your head, comforting you without needing to be told. He knew every part of you, or at least he was getting to know them. "Love you too."
Warning: Just some nice fluff!! Bob is Baby Blue <3
Relationships: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x reader
Summary: Bob sits back during movie night with the team, and you sit behind him with a handful of butterfly clips and a desire to get his hair out of his face. Walker is annoyed about therapy, and Alpine shows her claws.
Notes: It was noted that Bob being called Baby Blue in Mwah, my last fic, was adorable... thank you, thank you, he is Baby Blue. this is 'reader' friendly without any physical details. Let me know if any slip in. I think I managed to make this one without even mentioning the readers gender or sex!! Masterlist. I hope you enjoy
And just like that, the whole world reduced to the simple fact that he was unwinding beneath your touch. He was blue to the middle at times, requiring the weight of a support system to tie him down. You had never minded it, not even when the blue had bloomed into something destructive, exhausting, heavy over the world. For a while now, there haven't been any incidents, nothing noteworthy and nowhere near the first time it had all collapsed. It was probably due to doing things like now; settled down for the evening for the mandatory movie night that was organised to encourage bonding within the Thunderbolts, or rather New Avengers as they were announced to the public.
"It was your fault, Walker." Bucky was removing his gloves while treading across the room and towards the door to the hallway. His boots were heavy on the ground. He looked tired, not exhausted, but mentally tired from having to deal with the bickering and arguments while out. He didn't wait for a reply, the automatic door opening for him and closing behind,
"How was it my fault?" Walker questioned in an exasperated tone, glowering as he nudged Bob's foot while making his way around the coffee table towards the other couch. "None of you know how to work as part of a team, that is not my fault. If one of you would just listen-"
There was a collective sigh in the room, everyone sick of him complaining about the same thing, that no one 'listened' to him during missions, in the kitchen, about chores, anything he could put into his back pocket for a moment like this. Bob was sitting on the floor between your legs, his head resting against your knee as he cradled a book in his hands; The Creative Act: A Way of Being. He was more than halfway through it, and not surprising since he always had it with him. On more than one occasion you had to wrestle it out of his hands when he had decided to turn the bedside lamp on while you were trying to sleep.
"Oh my god," burying your face into the crook of his neck, you nuzzled into the warm skin and breathed in the faint smell of cotton and lingering scent of cologne, a musky scent that had hints of fresh grass. He was wearing some pyjamas, as you all were, but somehow it just made him appear like some cuddly thing that you didn't want to stop holding. Bob squirmed a little, a slight guffaw sound escaping his mouth. "Don't be an asshole, Walker."
"What the hell is happening?" Walker responded, gesturing towards everyone with exasperation. "Seriously guys."
You lifted back up, smiling innocently as if you weren't halfway through clipping your boyfriend's hair back with a rainbow array of butterfly clips. They were flimsy and plastic, something Yelena normally used since her hair was still growing out. Often, you would find them around the tower, normally littered on the coffee table of the penthouse where you would all sit around. "What do you mean?" you asked softly, leaning forward and picking up a slack handful of plastic clips off the table. There were more blues and yellows from what you got, only a couple others, one was sparkly. It was obvious they were all from different packs, and probably stores. "It's movie night." You then gestured towards the screen, some trashy chick-flick playing. Everyone had collectively agreed on it. A nice nostalgic movie for some, and something new for others. Ava had gotten surprisingly controlling over what they would watch next, claiming ownership over the remote but then asking them a hundred questions about each movie that was a possible watch next.
Bob shifted his weight a bit, adjusting his head on your knee before reaching up to touch the butterfly clip in his hair, fingers tracing the smooth plastic wings. "Huh?" That nervous energy radiated off him in a way that made it impossible not to notice, wave after wave of fidgeting, still nervous despite how hard he tried. You reached down and curled a loose strand of his hair around your finger, then tucked it behind his ear.
“Huh?” Walker repeated in a mocking tone. “Look at you all. What is this. When did we become so domestic?”
“Probably around the time we all started going to therapy,” Yelena spoke up, unbothered by it all, with her guinea pig sitting in the space between her crossed legs and a chewed up blanket. She had a pair of scissors in one hand, and a handful of Ava's hair pinched together in the other as she tried cutting it all in one length. “Speaking of…” she was snipping at the hair, stray pieces falling to the fall in a dramatic display. “You missed appointment.”
You laughed softly, clip between your fingers and snapping it playfully near your boyfriends neck as he shifted away and batted at your hands gently. “Stop it,” Bob murmured. “You’re such an asshole.” Finally he let his book tumble to his lap and got his fingers around your wrist, holding it in his captured hold and not allowing you to attack him again. You were left halfway over his shoulder, not pulling away as you let him hold onto your wrist. “Hmm,” the sound came out before pressing your lips against his cheek in an overly public display, you knew he would get all flustered by it. You lightly traced a finger over his temple with your free hand. Feeling how warm his skin had become. "And you're my baby blue."
“It’s bullshit,” Walker excused, slouching in a chair. “You know she is reading all the notes from our sessions, right?”
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
“She has an actual position to maintain, if you have forgotten.” Ava shifted on the floor, resting her arms over Yelena’s thighs while the other was trying to cut her hair into a more even presentation. “If anyone is going to be reading the notes, it’s going to be her assistant. From what we know, Mel is only going to tell her something if it’s serious. Do you really think Valentina wants to know that we… fuck… that we are struggling to find ourselves?”
“I’m just saying-“
"Go jerk off in the corner," Ava retaliated while trying to pick off the stray strands from her shoulders.
There was a moment of silence, barely a breath. And then Walker was pointing at her with what looked like triumph. “I knew it!” He yelled, standing up and walking over. “I knew you were stalking about the tower. You’re the reason I need therapy.”
“Oh my god,” you grinned widely at his outburst. A firm squeeze on your hand let you know that Bob was sharing your sentiment, his shoulders shaking slightly with barely covered laughter. “This is brilliant.”
“Oh, you’re laughing. I don’t give a fuck what you two think,” Walker turned on them. “We all know too much about the weird stuff you do. This little hair clip display is at the bottom of the list,” he bent down and placed his hand a few centimetres above the ground to show where it would be.
Alpine darted for his hand, sliding out from under the coffee table on quick paws. There was no sound, no announcing meow or growling. She pounced. "No!" Walker shouted, stumbling back and shook his hand to get her claws off, shaking harder when she began biting her little teeth into his wrist. "Bucky! Bucky! Bucky, it's at it again!"
"Ah... Alpine," the thick accent of Alexei sheltered the room as he walked through with a bag of groceries. You shook your head at the sight of the cereal. Again? you thought. No one eats it. But of course, he got it because they were all posing on the front of the box like real superheroes. "Sweet girl. She want to play, John." And he was gone, the door swinging behind him after going into the kitchen.
"What?" Walker looked towards the door with confusion. "Bucky! Get the fucking gremlin off-" he cut himself off, groaning and decidedly walking towards the doors where he could find her owner. Alpine was hanging off his hand, back feet kicking frantically while growling and holding on. "You need to lock her in your room!"
"You start it, Walker!" Ava called out from where she was sitting. "You agitate her." Yelena laughed along with her, both finding humour in his frustration. "He is funny."
Bob was fiddling with one of the clips, turning the purple plastic in his trembling fingers. The soft clicking of the fastener was oddly grounding, helping him focus on something other than the attention that had fallen upon you both. You noticed. After you reach for his chin, tilting his head back to meet your gaze, he loses all connection with the overwhelming sensation of being watched. Bob’s breath hitched at the closeness, the touch of your fingers gentle but electrifying against his skin. The faintest hint of a flush crept up his neck, fighting the urge to smile but it was impossible. He leaned back fully into you with a slump of his shoulders, head tilted up at an awkward angle. “Hmm.. "
You leaned down, planting a kiss upon his hairline, just beneath one of the clips. Bob's eyes fluttered shut at the touch of your lips against his forehead, a small, crooked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You look absolutely adorable," you told him softly and stroked his face softly, the warmth almost tingling your thumbs.
"Yeah?" he murmured, looking up at you with adoration. "And here I was going to say something similar."
Your own smile brightened, almost grinning as you pressed your lips against his forehead quickly in a firm press. "Sure you were."
"I was."
"Hmm," you nodded. "Maybe you should be quicker next time."
"I thought you liked it when I lasted," he murmured, an air of sureness in his soft spoken words and tilted his head back a little more as if he was melting against you.
"You're real funny."
"And you're..."
The pause had you looking down at him with a slight quirk in your expression, waiting for what he would say next. Beautiful? Lovely? Pretty? "What?"
Use this prompt list as a source of suggestions and guidance when sending a request! Make your own alterations, and specify to help me get your request correct, such as the location. I'll take any fluff, 18+ nsfw, dark romance, suggestive content, and angst. I will write for alternate universe, characterxcharacter, characterxreader, or even plain character fics without a love interest. This is, of course, just a suggestion list, but you are welcome to send almost anything.
READER
Apathetic, bitchy, chaotic, ditzy, sunshine, romantic, or grumpy.
Specify Pet names; baby, babygirl, sweetheart, honey, honeybee, little one, darlin', ma'am, baby blue, lamb, etc.
RELATIONSHIP
Established relationship, friends, friends to lovers, strangers, strangers to lovers, rivals, rivals to lovers, exes, exes to lovers, and lovers to exes.
CHARACTERS
MCU - Bob Reynolds, Ava Starr, Bucky Barnes, and Yelena Belova.
AKOTSK - Daeron ‘the drunken’ Targaryen, Maekar Targaryen, Aerion ‘Brightflame’ Targaryen, and Kiera of Tyrosh.
OTHERS - Bob Floyd, Cameron Cassmore, Rhett Abbott, Peter Prior, Soldier Boy.
A.) Fluff
Cuddling
Kissing
Shoulder kiss
Forehead kiss
Cheek kiss
Stolen glance
Date
Family day out
Introduction to family
Introduction to friends
First child
Family with more than one child
Playing card games
Playing board game
Movie night
Puzzle with them
One or both of you are sick
Grocery shopping
B.) Angst
Breakup
Distance in relationship
Argument over..
Hurt feelings over..
Serious injury
Questioning relationship
Family issues
Comforting over..
C.) Smut
PiV
F!Oral
M!Oral
Breast play
Spanking
Spitting
Choking
Dirty talk
Standing
Doggy
Missionary
Cowgirl
Backwards cowgirl
Mirror
Semi-public
Public
D.) Dark
Dub-con
Death
Hurt
Crying
˙⋆Quotes⋆˙
"How did you know that?" "You said it once, didn't you?"
"I'm going to fuck this up." "Probably." "I'll try not to."
"Hmm? W-what.." "Go back to sleep."
"You're so pretty... Y'know that?"
"Oh, you want a real kiss?"
"You're so fucking adorable."
"Can you say 'please' for me?"
"You're okay, look at me. You're okay. I'm here."
"Nu uh, come here."
"Kiss." "What was that?" "I want a kiss."
"If you could read my mind..."
"Stop squirming."
“Fine. It was just a kiss.”
“What are you doing here?”
"But... but they're squishy."
"What's stopping you then?"
"Hey, hey. Look at me. I'm real, see?"
"That... uh.. looks..."
"Hold still."
"This fucking thing won't zip up all the way."
"I missed you so damn much." "Yeah?" "Yeah."
“Why didn’t you tell me?"
"What happened to you?"
“Come on, we're putting a movie on.”
"Fuck you." "That's alright, I already fucked you.”
“Come on, get your shoes on already.”
"Atta Girl."
"I dreamed of you." "No." "I'm sober enough to know."
"Oh god, would you stop being respectable? It's exhausting."
"I don't need you to carry me. Put me down."
Any requests consisting of a mummy!kink, daddy!kink, sexual age play, or r*pe, will be ignored. That's my boundary.
I decided to move Butterfly Clips, a Bob Reynolds fluff, to the top of my draft pile!! Here's the little preview <3
"How was it my fault?" Walker questioned in an exasperated tone, glowering as he nudged Bob's foot while making his way around the coffee table towards the other couch. "None of you know how to work as part of a team, that is not my fault. If one of you would just listen-"
There was a collective sigh in the room, everyone sick of him complaining about the same thing, that no one 'listened' to him during missions, in the kitchen, about chores, anything he could put into his back pocket for a moment like this. Bob was sitting on the floor between your legs, his head resting against your knee as he cradled a book in his hands; The Creative Act: A Way of Being. He was more than halfway through it, and not surprising since he always had it with him. On more than one occasion you had to wrestle it out of his hands when he had decided to turn the bedside lamp on while you were trying to sleep.
"Oh my god," burying your face into the crook of his neck, you nuzzled into the warm skin and breathed in the faint smell of cotton and lingering scent of cologne, a musky scent that had hints of fresh grass. There were faint blotches littering his skin, yellowing in colour. Something you found pride in achieving, despite knowing he was purposely disabling whatever healing abilities he had. It didn't last too long, a day and they were fully healed, but for a couple hours you could watch them shift through colours until fading completely. And, gods, he smelled warm, if there was even a smell to be found in such a thing. It was your favourite thing, the warmth that pulsed from his skin like a hot water bottle. Bob squirmed a little at your nuzzling, a slight guffaw sound escaping his mouth. “Don’t be an asshole, Walker.”
“What the hell is happening?” Walker gestured towards everyone with exasperation. “Seriously guys.”
You lifted your head back up, smiling innocently as if you weren’t halfway through clipping your boyfriend’s hair back with a rainbow array of butterfly clips. They were flimsy and plastic, something Yelena had started using since her hair was still growing out. Often, you would find them around the tower, normally littered on the coffee table of the penthouse where you would all sit around. “What do you mean?” you asked softly, leaning forward and picking up a slack handful of plastic clips off the table. There were more blues and yellows from what you got, only a couple others, one was sparkly. It was obvious they were all from different packs, and probably stores.
Bob shifted his weight a bit, adjusting his head on your knee before reaching up to touch the butterfly clip in his hair, fingers tracing the smooth plastic wings. “Huh?”
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Summary: Bob can sometimes get easily flustered when he is given romantic attention. So, what else can you do but overwhelm him with loud 'mwah' kisses as he laughs.
Notes: I will always try to make them as 'reader' friendly as possible and avoid any physical details. Let me know if any slip in. I think I managed to make this one without even mentioning the readers gender or sex!! Masterlist. I hope you enjoy
Sometimes you found yourself staring at him, wondering how someone so tormented could be so soft and absolutely pathetic. That wasn’t all he was, of course, he was also a little shit that purposely pushed buttons with that lopsided grin of accomplishment. But to you, to you, he was the sweetest thing on earth. You felt your heart twist and unwind at that endearing expression on his face, at the utter pathetic cluelessness that he seemed to embrace so well. You wanted to hold him close forever, tightening around him like a snake until no one else could get close.
Your hand was tracing through his hair, lightly pressing your nails against his scalp and dragging in a delicate performance. His head was tilted back against your abdomen, his ribs cradled between your thighs and his arms resting over them. He was content. Basking in attention like it was something that could be taken away from him any day now and he wanted to remember the taste of it. He wasn't even watching the film, the light casting a glow across the bedroom with hues of warmth. It was forgotten, plain as that. Nothing more than background noise to his own comfort. "You alright, baby blue?" you murmured softly, not wanting to break the trance.
There was a soft humming noise, something that tried to acknowledge your question but too caught up in the labyrinth you created through his hair. It was sweet. Sometimes you wondered how someone so lethargic and languid could be considered dangerous. This pathetic man? he was made of clouds and soft grins that pulled up more on one side. How this, this, could become anyone else was an impossible request to conjure. You gently, very gently, remove your hands from his hair and the attention it provided to his scalp. Instead, your fingers moved down towards his cheeks and stroked the soft skin in circular motions. "I swear, you could have been a cat in another life."
Blue came alive under the words. His eyes opened with a lopsided smile, staring up at you with enough warmth to have your belly swelling up with affection. "Yeah?" he laughed lightly, a short and uncomfortable sound. "That's nice," there was a slight wheeze as his laughter dropped away.
Leaning forward and tilting over enough that it pulled at your lower back, your lips pressed against his forehead. His skin was warm beneath the soft slopes of your mouth. It was comforting how warm he always felt, even though the man was constantly wearing sweaters and the like, probably the most comfortable dressed person you had ever met. A quiet 'mwah' followed. A light pressure wrapped around your wrists, not removing your hands from cradling his face and drawing soft shapes on his skin, but just making connection. Bob signed beneath you, shifting slightly with his arms now raised above his head. Soft, you thought once again with a smile. "Such a gentle boy," you murmured and pressed another to his forehead. A louder 'mwah' following. He made a soft snorting sound this time, his fingers digging in slightly but still not pushing you away. "Don't..." he mumbled, barely audible and lacking any real displeasure towards your display. “Stop babying me.”
"Mwah," you kissed him again, a little lower that was closer to the bridge of his nose. His eyes scrunched shut, smile broadening despite how he started to squirm. "You’re my baby blue. I will baby you as much as I want. Now, let me love you," the words fell without thought, not caring that... well, you had never used those words but it wasn't an 'i love you' so it was fine, right? "C'mere," you kissed him, peppering kiss after kiss upon his warm skin as he twisted and squirmed on the bed as his laughter grew along with the flustered hue that crawled up his neck to the tops of his ears. "Mwah, mwah, mwah," you kept leaving a path along his face, starting to laugh with him as you shifted into a kneeling position. "Stay still!" you laughed, holding his face firmly as he tilted his head back against the bed and laughed even louder, an almost low sound that filled the room. It was the first time you had ever heard him laugh so much, a sound that you never wanted to end.
He chuckled against your affections, allowing himself to be attacked with the softness of your lips. "Stop it!" For a moment, reality started slipping away from him, all except the feeling of his heart lurching with every kiss. Between the gentle caresses, the playful pinching, and shoving, you had managed to climb atop him. Straddling his lap as he kept one hand raised, as if to push you away if you came back for more. He was still grinning, head tilted back with that endearing expression on his face that gave way that happiness was a full body experience for him. You relented, hearing how heavy his breathing had gotten from laughing. "Stop," he repeated breathlessly, unable to fight his amusement. "No more."
"No?" you tilted your head slightly for just a second before straightening back up, and then grasped his hand to intertwine your fingers. It was enough, you knew that. "Okay, no more."
Bob let his attention drop to your intertwined fingers, the way they rested over his blue sweater, on his abdomen. He blinked quickly, those little flutters that happened instead of one blink. It was endearing, as if he had forgetting to blink for too long and was making up for it. You noticed it a long time ago, how he blinked around three times and quickly. That’s what you had found yourself focusing on, but he was sure you could feel his breathing, how stuttered it got because of you. "I never thought I would be this happy, you know?" he spoke softly, almost wistfully after some moments of quiet that settled. "Have... a family, an unconventional one, at best-" you smiled down at him, but he was just grinning to himself, lost in his head. “It’s nice having people.” Then he lifted his other hand, spreading his fingers apart in preparation before you lunged out for him. He exhaled through his nose when both your hands were linked together with his own, almost a laugh or maybe just collecting himself, and his eyes trailed up towards your own again, and you could see how happy he was. For a moment, you stared at him; at the flush dusting his cheeks with warmth, the way his mouth was open was just a little like he was about to say something. There was a bit of drool on his bottom lip, that lingering side effect from withdrawal that he hadn’t yet got through and perhaps never would. He looked so soft. You wanted to lick his bottom lip, collect the saliva with a teasing grin, but it wasn’t the right action for now.
Laughter started to slip away, a slow loss as if sand was falling from between your fingers. You shifted slightly on his pelvis, lifting your intertwined hands and shaking them playfully. Bob stared up at them, as if mesmerised by the sight, his fingers clenching against your own. "I like seeing you happy," you told him, pinning his hands on either side of his head and then leaning down and presented a kiss upon his mouth; familiarity teased through the casual way you took your time to capture his bottom lip in a languid embrace. The dampness on his lip was what you wanted. His fingers tightened against your own, not pushing or trying to slip away but clenching to let you know he was there.
When you pulled back an inch, Bob followed after you. You relented, pressing back down and capturing his bottom lip, sucking on it gently. He tasted of coffee; the kind he would order and sit in the penthouse while reading. Bob hummed slightly, the slight vibration caused you to break into a smile before taking your time to run a couple of soft pecks against his mouth. "Mwah," you couldn't help but make the sound softly, smiling against Bob when it caused him to break into a grin. "Stop it!"
Summary: You visit Bob while he's at the beach surrounding The Hard Deck, thinking you'll sit in the sun and watch them play physical games to improve their team dynamics. You end up watching from a small distance with Bob, and he gets especially handsy.
Notes: I always try to make them as 'reader' friendly as possible and avoid any physical details. This is just another short fic while I build up posts and followers. I hope you enjoy! This is my favourite one so far, really enjoyed writing it. Masterlist. Might create a part 2 if it gets enough activity.
You were standing just a little in front of him, his knee touching the back of your leg as you stood against his knee slightly. There was comfort in his presence. He was like a pillar of loyalty and respect, something rare and delightful. Hangman and Phoenix had gone from throwing playful insults into a complete mess of rivalry while throwing the ball around. The others participating, but keeping a healthy distance from their personal game. They had already played a couple games to help with their hesitance and ill equipped attitude towards teamwork. It seemed they were quickly adapting, only needing certain perimeters to push them into the right place. You joined later, treading across the beach on your own, tightening the straps of your bikini where they rested on your hips when you found them. Bob had quickly separated himself from the group, grinning with a semblance of embarrassment that was endearingly puppy-like when he heard the others laugh at his eager departure.
Perhaps it was the right weather for it, but it was everywhere. The sand was between your toes, in your hair, and up on your thighs. There was even some in your mouth, the gritty texture caught on your tongue when the wind blew it. “Fuckin’ annoying,” you mumbled, nails raking softly against your tongue to pick away the grains. “I’m not coming along with you next time if it means getting sand in everything. I’m going to be scratching sand out of my scalp for a week.”
There was a firm press of lips against your lower back, one hand braced on your hip languidly and fiddling with the ties of your bikini, turning the beads at the end of the strip's of fabric that dangled down your sides, as if reassuring himself that you weren’t about to walk off. “Don’t worry about it,” he chuckled, pressing another kiss against your back and dangerously close to the waistband of your bikini. “I’ll sit down with you later and make sure it’s out, yeah?”
You were silent for a moment, holding a grudge against the beige grains that marked up your legs after treading through the water just twenty minutes ago. Fanboy went down into the sand, tumbling over and laying on his back. Winded. She could tell by the way he was clutching his chest while the others laughed and carried on, Rooster offering his hand to help him up. “Okay,” you relented in a soft whisper that you knew he could still hear. The last time he had done a good job of it, sitting behind you in the tub and combing through it diligently until he got all that he could find while parting your hair into sections. The stuff was like glitter; itchy and impossible to get out on your own.
The sun was unforgiving with its warm kiss, a gentle caress that almost had you lulling to sleep. It was too comfortable. It was too soft and settling. If you had been in his place, you probably would have fallen asleep by now with a towel clutched against you chest like a blanket. It was a good thing he was sitting in the foldout hair instead, especially since he didn't seem to fall under the spell of the midday sun. If anything, he was becoming just a little too handsy. You shift slightly, on the verge of warning him to keep his hands to himself when he starts to knead the plump curve of your ass. Your heart began to thrum; an uncomfortable presence in your chest. His thumb drew patterns low and near the cleft, too close to indecent, too close to slipping between slick folds, all while his fingers pressed under the curve. You swallowed thickly, a lump forming in your throat from the teasing touch. "Hmph, B-Bob," you gasped carefully and stammered, not taking your eyes off the group. It would draw attention. Or, it felt as if they would all sudden turn and stare if you didn't keep an eye on the moving figures. They were too occupied with their game, their attention drawn towards the ball travelling through the air. Not you.
There was the unmistakable feeling of your bottoms being shifted aside, the material easily giving way for his lewd intentions. You were about to scold him, some part of you trying to save face and be responsible, but the gentle nudge of his knee came between your own. Without hesitation, you shifted them apart. Only slightly, nothing suspicious from anyone who might look your way for a second. Just enough that it gave him access. There was a pause, a moment where he pulled away from mouthing at your lower back that had you turning your head to look over your shoulder. He removed his hand, letting the material of your bikini bottom fall back into place, and lifted it to his mouth. His fingers lewdly slipped into his mouth, saliva coating his skin when he pulled them out and then spat on them for extra measure. He looked up at you, that innocent expression on his face that made him appear so kind, and smiled as if this wasn't something completely deviant. "What?" he murmured, and you would have thought him oblivious to the affect he was having if it wasn't for how he tugged you back slightly by the hip while his other hand was already returning between your thighs. "You were complaining about the sand getting in everything, right?"
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," you almost shuddered, reaching one hand back to rest on his shoulder for support while turning back to watch the others running on the shore. The firm pressure of his finger on your clit had you scrunching your toes in anticipation, a little annoyed when the pad of his thumb stayed still, gauging your reaction. "You better start moving before the game wraps up," you told him sternly, resisting the urge to roll your hips. It was his job to bring you to that twisting, clenching feeling until euphoria came crashing through your body. You felt him huff a chuckle out while pressing his forehead against your back. Then it started. Oh, it started. It was little motions, a circular pattern that he usually drew upon your thigh while sitting close together. You had to fight to stay still, wanting to rise up on your feet or maybe fall onto your knees. Something.
Slowly, as if wanting you aching and whining for something more, a couple of his fingers travelled towards your opening, applying soft pressure and gathering the juices that had your bikini bottoms damp. You could feel it, how slick and coated his fingers had become with a mixture of his saliva and your wetness. It left a trail against your skin, a dragging line on your inner thighs. You tightened the grip on his shoulder, an encouragement for him to keep going. Your breath was shallow and short with suspense, focusing on how a couple of his fingers slid within the tight grip of your walls. "F-Fuck-" you almost laughed at the absurdity of it all, nails pressing into the cotton of his top and almost stumbling back. He held them there for a moment, allowing you to adjust. You felt him shift a little, sitting closer on the edge of his chair and resting his cheek on your hip. He didn't waste any time, beginning a slow motion that had his fingers stroking your under walls with precision. They were dragging, pulling out achingly slow and then burying back in. A plunge of anticipation shocking your lower stomach every time you felt the closed presence of his other fingers pressing between the apex of your thighs when he buried his other two fingers in. That closed knuckle presence that nudged deliciously with every thrust.
His other hand travelled down to grip your inner thigh, applying enough pressure to get just a little more access when you were pushed onto your tip toes. You wanted to moan, the sound crawling up your throat but stuck behind your gritted teeth. You hips aching to roll back against him, to bounce on his fingers until your slick was dripping down his wrist. The thought had you panting, mouth dropping open a little. His fingers curled a little, prodding and searching until your knees buckled. "There. R-right there," you nodded, pushing back a little and shivering at the tingling that burst in your lower stomach, a swirling storm drawing tight. Bob proved himself skilful, tentatively stroking that spot in jerky motions until your thighs were starting to tremble. Then they stilled. They stilled. His fingers were still buried tauntingly inside you and curling just a little to prod at that sweet, spongy spot that had your breath hitching. Then drag them out in one fluid movement, your heart lurching at the loss. He patted your clit firmly and caused you to jolt at the snap of pleasure. "They're finishing up, baby." He kissed your hip, and ran the pads of his fingers through your folds one last time, swiping through and collecting your juices. Oh gods, baby? why would he say something like that so casually? You felt like melting at the soft words, the gentle kiss of his breath on your back.
You turned, frowning at being brought to the edge only to be denied that delicious completion. How dare he? You wanted to smack him for that, for teasing you so brutally and stealing it all away, but he was staring at the slick dripping down his fingers, a strangely arousing sight, and then brought them up to his mouth where he licked them with a content sound. He was tasting you. "I've got an early morning tomorrow," Bob spoke casually, wiping his hand on his shorts afterwards and then adjusting your bikini bottoms as if it wasn't something completely out of the ordinary. You could only stare in bewilderment. "So... are you coming back with me?" the sudden awkward presence had come, the unsure smile as his eyes behind yellow tinted glasses flickered back and forth across your face for some sign. Utterly stupid, you couldn't help but think. How did this pup of a man reduce me to this? "You... uh, you don't have to, of course, you know that. It's just-"
"Floyd," you cut him off softly, still riding on the sensation of your almost orgasm. Everything felt fuzzy, like being inside an old television. "Let's go. Now."
"Now?" he questioned. "Uh, now, now?"
You stated blankly at him, a little annoyed but more amused by the dumbfounded expression. "Floyd."
"Y-yeah," he cleared his throat and got up a little too quickly, the chair almost falling back. "Uh... Yeah, now." Bob smiled, his hands clasped together as he grinned and then looked about frantically.
You watched him, turning slightly to face him more. "What are you doing? I said 'now' not 'when Floyd finds his head'"
He lifted his head, looked at you with confusion and then chuckled when he realised you were joking. "I need my bag, it's got my keys in the pocket."
Summary: You grind on Rhett in the backseat of his truck
Notes: I tried to make this as 'reader' friendly as possible and avoid any physical details. This is a little short fic! Masterlist. I hope you enjoy.
The patchwork blanket slipped a little down; he reached up, and gently tucked it back around your shoulders. It may seem a little silly, but even some fabric falling across your shoulders felt more secure and comfortable than the alternative. It wasn't like anyone was going to come across you, not here. The land was empty, somewhere on the many acres that belonged to his family. The truck parked beneath a overhanging tree. "I know, I know," Rhett murmured with amusement, smoothing his hands around your hips as they shifted back and forth. Bottom lip caught between your teeth to smother any sounds that were too embarrassing to hear during the moment of lust, you eagerly moved against him for the delicious friction of his denim jeans pressing up against your clit. It was desperation that had your heart thudding in your ears, and panting despite receiving nothing except the aching in your knees from them being pressed into the seat of his truck, and a creeping warmth that travelled up your chest. His fingers dipped under the waistband of your panties, hooking around the elastic and pulling it taut in a playful manner. "Rhett," you whined in complaint, shifting on your knees that were bracketing his hips before swatting his arm when it snapped against your skin.j
"You doin' alright?" he asked, softer in his curiosity while raising one hand to rest on the behind his head while you continued to rock diligently against his bulge. The wet patch on his jeans could have been from either of you, or perhaps both. It didn't matter anymore. He let you decide the pace, allowing the frantic grinding motion that was somehow still too slow and light. It was teasing. A taste. But the sight of your panties blooming with a slick wetness was enough to satisfy. "Hey," he tapped your hip when there was no reply except the squeezing grip on his abdomen where your hands were splayed. "C'mon, you alright?" He grasped your jaw with one hand, forcing you to lift your head. He was no doubt ensuring there was no regret with the shy demeanour that anyone would have noticed from the moment he had set his eyes on you. His fingers dug in just a little hard, almost mean. He stares at your face for a moment, his other hand gently caressing one of your thighs before creeping under the waistband of your thong. "Hmmm.... Yeah," you nodded slightly, leaning into his touch with eyebrows furrowed tightly and your lips part just a little while breaths left in short pants. "Fuckin' knees are aching."
A soft pat to your hip has you pressing down eagerly. It felt a little condescending, that connection of his hand upon your skin to get you moving quicker. "Yeah?" he chuckled, keeping your face close enough that the soft breath was a shared expression. "That's part of the charm. C'mon," he coaxed, voice gaining a slight raspy tilt while his fingers pressed firmly into your hip while his pelvis pressed up against you, seeking out friction. There it was. The thick length of him kept behind a barrier of denim, the shape of it obvious and enough to force an excited thrum throughout your body. You wanted more of it. You wanted to feel every twitching inch until you were full. "That's it. Atta girl, keep going."
Your hands were still pressed firmly against his abdomen, feeling it tense underneath. Every shift was a signal of just how much he was enjoying it. The thick bulge beneath denim straining against your panties and creating the perfect bump to grind against. The crease on his jeans had a delicious rough texture. The slight ridge of his zipper and fly had become a jolting presence. A warm flush curled up in your chest and started to rise to your cheeks, the tightening in your belly that felt like a thousand stars were forming a tornado of bliss. "Rhett," your nails firmly press into his skin, drawing welts as you try to stay upright. The pressure was too delicious, the grinding motion almost slowed down completely for a split moment when it all became too much. Every breath was a short gasp, hips rocking in short, and slow frantic motions as if to take in the exact feeling of denim beneath. It was almost painful, an overbearing feeling that made you jolt while chasing the growing warmth. It was tipping.
"There we go, that's it," Rhett kept one hand on your hip, a gentle guidance and chuckled at the way your mouth was half-parted with short breathes. "Good girl." He squeezed your jaw lightly, reminding you that he was holding you up with that simple pressure.
Shit. Of course he said that. "Fuck," You tumbled down the rippling sensation that was thrown over your body; the tingling feeling of heat that crawled up your neck until your head was wrapped in a numb state, clit throbbing, hips cantering in a last ditch effort to prolong the euphoria. Your eyes squeezed closed, trying to control your breathing while focusing on it all, as if to grasp it forever for those lonely nights back home.
"Good girl," he repeated, chucking when your hips jolted at the easy praise. The words sounded so sweet, so encouraging. A sharp sting landed on the curve of your ass, a blooming warmth erupting. You gasp sharply at the pull back into reality. "Asshole," You huffed, shifting slightly and sitting up straighter. There was no doubt that his hat was tilted a little too far forward on your head; a ridiculous sight, you were sure, but from the look on his face it seemed a delightful one. "You know what that does to me."
"You were taking too long," he patted your hip softly, a tapping that insisted he wanted something. Of course. When he sat up, the car seat creaked beneath him. Your sensitive nerves overstimulated at the shifting to sit upright. You made a soft humph, and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck loosely. There was a slight hue to his cheeks, almost rosy, and that would have been the only evidence that it had affected him if it wasn't for the way his hips bucked up. His hair was soft and touched by sweat at the nape of his neck, the strands twiddled between your fingers. "Let's get you going again, yeah?" he asked, playfully shaking your head after his hand moved from your jaw to your chin, pinching the space. "If you're gonna sit on top, you need to put in the work. That was the deal. I'll teach you to ride like a real cowgirl."
Warning: NSFW (18+) Smut, p in v, power imbalance, riding, creampie
Relationships: Daeron Targaryen x f!reader
Summary: Daeron shares an illicit affair with an entertainer from the Free Cities. More of a Daeron POV.
Notes: This is on ao3 to become a short story with an OC, I tried to make this more 'reader' friendly and avoid any physical details. By 'warm flush to your cheeks' I hope we can all imagine a warmth to someone's face and not reddened. This is a little short fic! I sometimes post on ao3 under the anonymous tag, but this is my first post here! Masterlist. I hope you enjoy.
There was that sensation of overheating; the candles burning along the alcove of his bedchambers and filling the space with the scent of beeswax and soft smoke. It was stifling. His lungs felt squeezed. Though all of that was not in the forefront of his mind. Not now at least. Daeron was aware that it wasn’t how you were intended to keep his spirits high and his mind off the twisted plague that haunted his nights. You were lovely. All of them must have been aware of that and seen the inevitable, perhaps even relying on his lack of self control; knowing he would fall into the arms of such kindness and warmth. None complained about how close they had gotten. None would say anything about him taking a paramour, he was partly Dornish, wasn’t he? That’s what they would all say as if to justify such an open relationship with an entertainer from the Free Cities.
Eyes lidded, a deep inhale dragging into his lungs, Daeron squeezed the plush thighs and moved his hands to your hips to grasp the structure of your rib cage where he got a delicious sight of your plump breasts jolting with every enthusiastic bounce. The blooming sight of the skin where he had mouthed at the curvature with lewd desire was an obvious sight that he couldn't resist. He wasn’t listening to your mumbling; a soft keening sound in the background of pleasure. Warm slick coated the coarse hair around the base of his cock, your juices were a delightful reassurance that there was more than duty provided during the lewd moment. “F-fuck,” Daeron whined as he threw his head back, dropping one hand to your hip while the other moved to lay languidly across his face, hiding how his face scrunched. His cock twitched when you stopped dropping all the way, keeping yourself up on your knees before rolling your hips quickly back and forth, only taking him into your quivering cunt halfway in a quick session that was relentless and overwhelming. “There, there, don’t fuckin- don’t-“ he gasped, balls heavy and drawing up taut with a desperation for release.
There was that mumbling again, the unintelligible words that in any other situation he would have been able to understand with ease. He moved his hand from resting across his face and grasped your hips, drawing himself up until you were face to face and he could see; the sheen of sweat on your forehead that clung to your hair, the warm flush to your cheeks, and your eyes… gods, your eyes were a timeless beauty full of a desire to give pleasure and keep him happy. Desperate for it. He lifted one hand and wiped the wet strands of hair with a delicate touch, pressing his lips against the salty skin that kissed him in return and lingered. Foreheads pressed flush against one another, it brought a sense of closeness between you.
His nails dragged welts into your delicate skin, dragging your hips into a faster pace that had your cunt quivering around him, coaxing his release closer. Daeron gasped, stuttering with every breath as you treated him so sweetly. Your hands stroked his hair with comfort, tracing her fingers through it with intimacy. “That’s it,” he caught the words whispered against his mouth hotly, and felt himself unfurl. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down his cock and the thick vein that throbbed until you were flush against his pelvis with your clit pressed against his pubic hair. It knocked the air from your lungs, winded by the sudden fullness that pressed firmly against your walls. "Dae," you gasped, hands gripping tightly on his shoulders and grinding down frantically to encourage His orgasm. His cock jolted against your tight walls, twitching as his lower abdomen tensed with a low moan as the first spurt of his seed seeped out. He nuzzled his hips against your own, trying to bury himself deeper into your cunt while his cock throbbed and drooled globs of pearlescent cum in thick waves of pleasure.
Foreheads still pressed against each other, Daeron pulled you closer than before until your breasts were flush against him and he could feel how deep and heavy you were breathing. One hand moved under your upper thigh, lifting it a little and bucking his hips up gently and cursed under his breath. “Good?” You asked him bluntly yet sweetened, amused by the quick recovery and leaned back a little while cradling his face. His cock was jolting inside, softer than before but resisting the moment of respite. With a gentle manoeuvre, he pushed you onto your back while sitting up on his haunches. Your thighs were spread wide with the backs pressed against his knees where he was sitting between them, your hips lifting eagerly while clenching around him, skin glistening, eyes wide with glee at his choice. He thought you looked beautiful.
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