I desire the existence of a dialogue study for so many characters. It would make writing their dialogue so much easier without having to go through scripts to see sentence patterns and word preferences :(
Notes: Just a little drabble. Alpine is a certified slob that leaves all her cat toys out for others to clean up and put away. She's a princess. It's what she deserves <3
"Hey, baby," you murmured softly, stroking his hair while looking around the living area; trying to catch some vibrant sight of those pesky cat toys that you had claimed would be cleaned up. The soft curls caressed your fingers lightly. You felt the slight pressure of him leaning against your hand instinctively, searching for more attention like some feline animal. He brought his ceramic mug up to his mouth, taking a mouthful of coffee while you traced your fingers through his hair.
Perhaps you should have known the inspired response. It was more of an action that resulted from repetition than anything else. You hadn't thought about it. Easily, you dropped to your knees in front of him, the movement fluid and familiar. There was nothing suggestive, or so you had thought, in the action. You only wanted to pick up some of the displaced cat toys that Alpine had left discarded. She often did that; scurrying away with a felt mouse or bell before abandoning it under the couch. There was one, you could see, laid on the floor behind Bob's sock-clad feet. It was the pink mouse, the one that Alpine would trot around with as if it were real and she had done a good job by retrieving it from the basket of toys.
And unfortunately for your boyfriend, the mere sight of you dropping to your knees and sitting on your haunches in front of his feet had him adjusting his position; shifting down the couch with a quiet sigh and spreading his knees. A movement that was remembered over time; your hands delicately trailing up to his waistband, the lulling of your tongue and mouth full of him, his cock nudging against the back of your throat as you took him so sweetly, those delicious vibrations that had his breath stuttering when you hummed around the throbbing length of him without mercy.
Your eyes widened instantly, knowing what would happen next. The dreaded sound of laughter. And you tilted backwards, exhaling deeply while holding the little cat toy in one hand. "Seriously, guys?"
"Hey," Yelena was grinning at the display, almost laughing with how highly amused she was. "In the tower or not, can you do that in your room."
"Yeah, Jesus," Walker murmured while collecting the mugs on the coffee table. "Keep it in your pants, Bob."
Bob threw down his book beside him, placed his mug onto the coffee table and groaned loudly at the attention, rubbing his face with lethargic exhaustion and embarrassment. "Don't be an asshole, Walker."
"What? We will have to start announcing ourselves before going into any room," he shrugged with a chuckle, walking out of the penthouse living area. Alpine trotted through the swinging door that separated the living area from kitchen; her fluffy tail high in the air and a high-pitch meow announcing her requirement for attention.
Thank you so much to everyone who voted these last few days <3 I'll start working on Smitten Beyond Measure once I upload a little bob reynolds drabble
Saw your post that included Thomas Keefer β€οΈ I loved Venus as a Boy β€οΈ Can you write a really smutty cadet!reader or something thatβs super submissive. Something thatβs public. Maybe in the barracks. Spanking, soggy style and condescending with praise. Thank you x
Absolutelyβ¦ that is drool worthy and the kind of filth that I adore <3 and thank you! Iβm glad you enjoyed it
I donβt really know much about his character or the navyβ¦ so if someone can get in touch to help me set the scene that would be wonderful!
Can you write a modern!daeron x reader drabble? Reader goes on a Targaryen family vacation and is just sitting on the beach with Daeron while he's drinking thank you β€οΈ
Sun bleached - Modern!Daeron Targaryen
Fandom: A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms
Warning: alcohol consumption.
Relationships: Modern!Daeron 'the drunken' Targaryen x reader
Notes: I need more modern!daeron in my life. I HAD to have a little rhae targaryen in here, she's his baby sister and adores him.
There was an overwhelmingly sharp taste of beer and warm, squishy sweets that had coiled itself around his tongue; providing a familiar flavour that you sought out eagerly. Every lapping movement of your tongue was accepted with grasping hands that pressed firmly against your jaw as if to bring closer what was already presses flushed against him. Daeron chased your mouth with a languid desperation; playfully lulling his tongue out and licking against your own. There was a harmony to the breathless ecstasy that overflew your body beneath the waning sun that breathed easily upon the beach.
He placed a final kiss against your mouth, cementing the finality of it all, and dragged himself away with reluctance. He laid back against the sun lounger once more and took a mouthful from the bottle of beer that had been hanging loosely in his hand. "It's so fuckin' warm," he complained and drank deeply from the bottle.
Bringing a hand up, your thumb swiped against the gentle curve of your bottom lip and collected the saliva. He did appear to struggle under the sun; his face was tinted with a pink hue and there was a fine sheen of sweat across his face. "You look warm." You stayed on the edge of the reclined lounger after reapplying sun lotion upon his face with gentle fingers, staring at him fondly afterwards with a smile breaking across your face as his eyes fluttered shut while drinking heavily.
And turned your attention towards the shrill giggling that got closer and closer, and suddenly rhae was clambering up to Daeron; seeking refuge and protection. "Dae! Dae, they found a jellyfish and- and Aerion picked it up and was- he was chasing us with it!" She was panting heavily and tripping over her own words, her sweetheart face all flushed and dusted with sand as she placed a handful of seashells beside the chair. Rhae then seated herself upon his stomach, her legs hanging over one side and laid the side of her cheek against his collarbone.
"Yeah?" Daeron chuckled, passing you the bottle and wound his arm around her back for support. "Maybe he'll get himself stung," he murmured and pressed a soft kiss against her head. "You can stay here with us."
There was a slight shake of your head before staring out at the distance where the vague figures of Daeronβs other siblings could be seen sprinting along the shoreline to avoid the mischievous activities of Aerion. It was sweet.
"Hmm," Rhae nuzzled against her eldest brother, staring at you with a soft smile while pressing her foot against your thigh playfully to gain your attention.
You were fiddling with the peeling label on the beer bottle, tugging and rolling it further. The pressure against your thigh wasn't unexpected, Rhae rarely kept to herself and always sought out ways to cause mischief. You narrowed your eyes at her without malicious intent, smiling and then reaching down to tickle her sole. Rhae lurched with a squeal, tucking her feet close and shifting against Daeron to get more comfortable.
"Where's daddy?" she asked softly and shoved her hand into the packet of sweets that were laying close, taking a handful of blue dolphins before meticulously ripping them in half and eating them.
"He went back to the parking lot," your boyfriend replied, opening his mouth when his sister held a sweet up to his face. "He's gone to bring the others down here. Disturb our peace, hmm?" Daeron continued while chewing on the blue sweet, unbothered. His little sister hummed in agreement, munching on the sweets quietly.
He beckoned you closer, a small gesture that had you crawling into his arms beside Rhae despite the sickly warmth that the sun had thrown at you. You sighed contently once curled against his side, poking your tongue out at his sister, who grinned with triumph and then reached up to stroke your hair idly with childish wonder.
And that was how you were going to be found once the others had made the journey down; both of you embracing Maekar's eldest son, as said son was silently tipping his beer bottle to his mouth.
Lewis Pullman... you beautiful, beautiful man. Your characters have bewitched me. I need some lovely requests if anyone is interested
Anything your mind can come up with; the most raunchy smut, softest fluff or heartbreaking angst. Really, just throw Lewis pullman character requests my way! Cameron Cassmore, Bob Reynolds (sentry and void included), Bob Floyd, Thomas Keefer, and Rhett Abbott, ect... gimme the requests
Hi can you do a story for Daeron where maybe itβs their wedding night and he is feeling embarrassed about having someone married to him because of all his issues and he gets sad and anxious and so they end up curled on the bed with him as the small spoon and she is wrapped around him stroking his hair and trying to comfort him . I donβt know if this makes senseβ¦. π
Makes perfect sense! I love this request so much, it's adorable :) thank you! I wrote a little from the readers perspective about their wedding and how she views Daeron. Its a very frightening thing, but he's trying his best and the reader knows that and in return is providing him comfort.
Marriage bed - Daeron Targaryen
Fandom: A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms
Warning: fail marriage, arranged marriage, discussions of dragon dreams, discussions of alcohol consumption, religious guilt, guilt, insecurity, comfort, cuddling.
Relationships: Daeron 'the drunken' Targaryen x f!reader
Notes: I wrote this today... I was inspired. He needs a lot of love, our poor little dreamer. I feel as if I'm really finding my footing with writing! I hope you enjoy <3 Write a comment or send an inbox if you want to be tagged in any specific or nonspecific posts! I'm so grateful for all the reblogs and likes <3 especially as a new creator.
Despite the reluctant absence that your new husband had been forced to create between himself and wine, he seemed to be taking it remarkably well. No doubt a stipulation of his father's. Something you were thankful for. Daeron had managed to hold himself honourably before the masses that crowded under the soft glow of candles around the sept. There was an obvious resistance within; his pale eyes brought attention with the red veins crawling in a bloodshot manner, his hand was strangely lacking warmth and felt damp when he had taken your own.
But he didn't shame you. That was important. It was. The critical attention of your family members were hard to ignore throughout the ordeal as they took stock of him. They could see how he breathed shallowly with a jolt occasionally lurching his chest. They could see the trembling that wracked his fingers so ruthlessly. They saw and they took note of such things with solemn expressions that tilted on the verge, waiting to see if he would create some humiliating spectacle. You could knew there was more to them; the eagerness in their eyes as you stood beside a prince of the realm and heir to Summerhall. They were proud enough to contain a hold on such a match.
It came as no surprise that the endeavour to get your new husband beneath the thin sheets, hidden behind a great canopy of brocade shielding the bed, lacked the desired result. It was fruitless. Instead, you were abandoned to occupy the silence by picking idly at a loose piece of thread that held a boarder of crimson velvet and black pearls along the marriage cloak that he had wrapped around your shoulders. Brought under his protection. Brought into the dynasty of haunting beasts that had once flown the skies without caution. Brought into the arms of a lacklustre knight that flinched from a warhorse as if it were some beast, a drunkard that had a inclination to spend his nights whoring.
You refrained from swinging your legs back and forth where they fell over the edge of the bed limply; it felt too childish for a new bride to do such a thing. Soft, deer skin slippers were cradling your feet. The cascade of thick skirts splayed around your ankles in the familiar colour of your house; the last, lingering moment between you and that deeply rooted connection. After tonight, it would be his colours. You would have to keep your composure and be measured by the seamstress often; a woman unknown and unfamiliar to your eyes and years, and receive a new wardrobe of red and black gowns frequently to suit the court and it's preferred styles.
At least, from what you had come to observe, there was a preference for Tyroshi culture that was brought with the marriage of Valarr and Kiera. That provided some relief; that there was something to be desired in changing from one household to another. The lavish layers of fabric had inspired some excitement in the match, knowing that many seamstresses would grasp for a chance to clothe you in their meticulously sewn work.
Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. Daeron did not seem to exhibit the temperament of a ill-mannered drunk. He seemed well adjusted to the position. You were sure it would be estranged, but court was filled with possible friends and activities. Hadn't Kiera extended an invitation to go hawking? You could bring your new husband along, give him a goblet and a pavilion stocked with a couple jugs of wine and he'd probably come to accept the role of spectator.
"I⦠I fear you will suffer in this marriage of ours," there was a quiet admittance from across the bed as he fumbled at the thin knots that bound the sleeves of his doublet; hesitation thickly coating his words as a faint chuckle followed as if to soothe the ache that it caused. "I am what⦠What I am." And then there was the soft rustle of clothes; the familiar sound of fabric falling upon the woven rug.
It had felt embarrassingly timid when you turned slightly to peer over the curve of your shoulder. And there he was, sitting languidly against the headboard of the fourposter bed carved with intricate designs of dragons. Daeron was lacking a tunic that would provide some sense of modestly, with his breeches unlaced and pried open. Despite the obvious fact that you were both on a marriage bed- your marriage bed- it had felt... wrong. All the times your septa had narrowed her eyes with distaste, tutting softly when she heard the soft whispers of other ladies trying to lend some informative words about what was to be expected tonight. You couldn't... you could only imagine the figure of her standing in the corner with a downturned expression.
But he... your husband, he looked sinfully delightful, something that would require hours of time spent sitting on your knees praying in the sept over with some ingrained belief that even looking was wrong. The hours of forced training in the yard that had been required of him had left behind obvious results; his slender abdomen was toned and his biceps contained enough muscle to pull your attention towards. With a flustered heat following the tendons of your neck, you lifted your eyes towards the rest of him. He had his knees pulled up languidly as he hunched over himself. Pathetically sweet in his body language.
There was a fine sheen of sweat had crept into his hairline through frequent attempts at pushing the stray pieces of common blonde out of his face. βAnd I am content to allow you solitude. I will not intrude more than necessary. Separate chambers are traditional in such marriages, and were already arranged within Summerhallβ¦" he paused and watched as you lifted yourself up from the plush bed, padding around the side. "You will not be wronged by me."
"You are too kind, husband," you settled beside him, hands clasped loosely while your head tumbled over your next words. "I would not refuse the company... should you desire." It was easier to see them now. His eyes, behind the infected chaos of bloodshot veins, they were a pale lilac. They were beautiful, a promise of that ethereal beauty that had once been a prominent feature within his bloodline. It spoke of something old. There was a deeply embedded knowing in them; a haunting aspect that lifted the fine hairs on the back of your neck.
"Perhaps... perhaps the comfort of another might soothe my addled mind. But do me no favours, wife." He sighed warily and shifted, stretching his legs and pushing himself down the bed enough that he could rest his head upon the pillow. "The bedchambers... They belonged to my mother," he continued, more of a mutter than an announcement as he began kicking off his boots. They tumbled to the ground with a thud, one almost going under the bed. "If truth be told, I do not remember a time when they were occupied. She thought it absurd to have separate bedchambers from my father." Daeron shrugged halfheartedly, looking towards you with a lop-sided smile that seemed forced, and it was. It feel just as quickly. "They are yours."
"Is that appropriate?"
"You are my wife," he reminded you, the sound unfamiliar in his mouth. "Summerhall is mine to inherit⦠and yours. The chambers for the lady of Summerhall have no other claimant."
"You do not wish to share a bedchamber?"
"No- It is not..." Daeron seemed to struggle for a response befitting the situation, blinking quickly as it to rid himself of what had bubbled to the surface first. "I would not be the most accommodating company. I have... I do not do well when I sleep without the sacrifice of surrendering my body to wine, you see?"
"Is it dreams, your grace?" You were careful with the question, many times you had heard of men who had gone to battle and returned with vicious hauntings looming over their nights. They grew restless and violent in some cases. Your father had called them softhearted for being tormented by such a childish thing, but anyone who had a real, vivid nightmare could contest that even the bravest knights could have the fear of the Stranger put into them through dreams.
"I knew..." he whispered, barely audible as he shifted onto his side and away from facing whatever response you may express. "Many times... I knew it would happen. I saw it. I felt it."
You furrowed your features slightly, confused but intrigued enough to silently stare at the back of his head. Waiting.
"The ground trembled at the disturbance," he continued in a tone that was regretful. "I felt it in my bones. I woke and I felt it still. I... I tried to bury it beneath my pillows."
"I feel sorrow for you, husband," carefully, as if approaching a fearful rabbit caught in a trap, you curled up behind him. "But dreams cannot be hidden beneath a feathered pillow. They are stronger. You cannot leave something that is apart of you."
He sighed, a shuddering thing that he forced to sound like amusement. "No... I cannot, can I?" He welcomed the sensation of your arm wrapping around his chest, clasping onto your forearm with quiet desperation. "Do you believe Daenys the Dreamer understood what she had seen?" He whispered. "Had she seen volcanoes erupting all around... and knew when she woke. Did she feel it in her bones, or did she know?"
With gentle ministrations, you trailed your fingers through his hair; elbow propped up slightly against the pillow as your other hand stayed upon his chest where you could feel the violent way his heart lurched. The name was familiar. It was a story as enchanting as the one about Elenei; a sea god's daughter who had committed herself to a mortal life for the love of a storm king. Still... it further confused you as to why such a figure of his bloodlines history was being brought to your attention when they were speaking of nightmares. Was he like Daenys? Was your husband one of these dreamers that were so alike to the greenseers of the north?
"Tis' a great injustice that you are married to me," he continued. "I will drink myself into a ditch. I believe it is my fate."
"Did you dream of it?"
There was a scoff at that, not malicious, but amused by your question. "I do not need to dream of what is currently happening." Already you could see how the soft touch of your fingers tucking strands of his hair back was soothing him into a drowsy state. "I'm sorry."
"For what, husband?"
"You will suffer in this marriage."
"I remember," you shifted slightly, your cheek resting against his temple while gently rubbing your thumb against his wrist with pity. "You told me as much."
"Did I? well, it's so." He sighed wearily, moving his hand and intertwining his trembling fingers with your own; carefully adjusting the hesitant grip until he was confident enough that you weren't going to pull away if he tightened it slightly.
Still, you trailed your fingers through his hair in a soothing gesture. It wouldn't be so bad, you thought idly and moved to get more comfortable; curling around him from behind where you could provide some comfort while he slept fretfully. It didn't matter that your wedding gown was still engulfing your figure, a testament to your virtue staying intact. None of it mattered. That was something that could be dealt with another time. What was the importance of virtue when already you had captured something more important? Wasn't his vulnerability and trust worth more? A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth while indulging in the sensation of his fingertips pressing against the back of your hand, clenching and unclenching. A tormented drunk that is committed to his sadness is no trouble. Mother says some men require the softness of a woman for them to settle. Someone to listen to their woes without the knowledge that it required coin in exchange. He is mine. I am his. That is how it works, isn't it?
Hello! Saw you were looking for Bob Floyd requests, I was wondering if you could do one where bobs married and the others joke about not believing him or sheβs a sweet and innocent stereotypical house wife and finally he brings her with him to the Hard Deck and she ends up being a cool alternative person, tattoos, gauges, piercings who gives as good as she gets and very clearly adores Bob, maybe some sort of artist as a career. It can be just something funny or whatever. Heβs so sweet and I adore him and Iβm alt so I think of would be a funny juxtaposition of him with someone like that. Or you can disregard! No worries and I hope you have a good day π
Im a little the same! Slightly alt and I melt for his sweet personality. Opposites attract after all :) Thank you for the request, and i hope you had a good day too <3
Adoration within - Bob Floyd
Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick
Warning: A little fluff, suggestive content, nudity, smoking, drinking, and general life.
Relationships: Robert 'Bob' Floyd x f!reader
Notes: Bob and an alt!reader is so perfect! He is so pookie. Hopefully there are no mistakes.. i wrote this on a writing app and fingers crossed it transferred well. Also requests are still open! And I'm going to post a poll so you can help me choose which of the four bob floyd x reader fics to work on next. Thought it would be fun to see and let people participate <3
The bedroom window was left unhinged, shoved open just enough to allow your upper body to lean through the gap on your elbows. Cigarette between your forefinger and middle, it glowed softly at the end. The cotton t-shirt that you had picked up from the laundry pile wasn't your own, but it felt as familiar. The stretch of your lower back caused it to rise up, providing a delicious sight for your husband to stare longingly towards while lacing his boots.
A billowing wisp of smoke filtered the air in a sudden burst as you broke into a smile at the comforting pressure of arms wrapping around your waist, tugging you backwards. Then the familiar sensation of lips pressing against the plush curve of your left asscheek; seeking out the small tattoo of his name in his handwriting. Your head turned to the side, peering over at him with a fond smile as he trailed open-mouthed kisses upon your skin, slowly moving towards the middle of your back where a great decorative piece only just touched. One hand unwound from your waist, curling his fingers around the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing and bunching it up further to seek out the entirety of your tattoo. βYouβre gonna be late,β you whispered teasingly, reaching back to stroke his hair for a brief moment before leaning on the windowsill again. βIβll be here when you get back.β
You felt him sigh deeply against your lower back, a puff of warm breath as he clung to to you with childish reluctance. βYeah?β Bob murmured, shifting so his cheek was flush against your lower back. βYouβre not doing anything today?β
You thought for a moment, staring out at the soft swaying trees that lined the courtyard of the apartment complex. A slender cat was making its way through the floral decoration; that dark coated one that sunbathed all day in the same place. On more than one occasion you had bent down to scratch under its chin while on your way towards the stairs that led up to the apartment. Even plucked some stray pieces of grass from its fur that grew to have a golden-brown hue. βI have some parcels to pick up,β you shrugged, thinking about the supplies that had been ordered a few weeks ago; anything of good quality had always been a hassle to track down and order. βAnd I still have that commission to get started.β
βHmm,β the soft vibrations of that acknowledgement was a subtle tickling sensation. It made you smile a little, bringing the cigarette back up to your mouth. The glowing ember brightened with the deep inhale that pulled a flush of smoke into your mouth. You stubbed the cigarette into the ceramic bowl sitting on the windowsill; a small amount of rainwater had settled into a puddle inside. You exhaled the soft cloud and turned around in his embrace, slinging your arms around the back of his neck as he stood up straighter and leaned in.
"C'mere,β Bob was smiling, an endearing little thing that brought up his cheeks as he started dragging the hem of your t-shirt up further. Your stomach tensed at the careful drag of his fingers that brushed along faintly. βI need my t-shirt.β And filled you with disappointment. You exhaled dramatically, tilting your head back with a languid drop off your shoulders. He chuckled at the display and tugged it over your head, exposing your breasts.
It was hard to fight the smile that tightened the corner of your mouth once you had caught the longing expression in his eyes. You wondered how he would react when you got them pierced, something you had been debating for a while after coming across some jewellery at the tattoo parlour. βAre you going to start drooling?β You murmured, staring up at him and enjoying how captured he was by the sight of your bare body. His thumb caressed the gentle curve of your breast, meticulously paying attention to the blotches of sensitive skin that he had mouthed at with undeniable desire the night before. βI think the guys want to go to the Hard Deck later,β he murmured, shifting his hand from the side of your breast to rest against your lower back as he lent in and kissed your brow gently; just brushing against the piercing, and lingering for a beat. βIf thatβs alright.β
βYeah, of course,β you tilted your head back a little to look up at him, back arching slightly against the pressure of his hand, and smiled at his desire for reassurance; as if you had ever denied him the well-deserved time with his newfound friends.
βOh, I- I meant you could come with me. I-ifβ¦ uh, you want to?β He looked suddenly unsure of the invitation as he dragged his wedding band along his necklace, back and forth in a repetitive motion, as if suddenly realising that you might prefer to stay out of that side of his life. You stared at it, that glint of gold that was resting upon his finger earlier. His hand jolted down suddenly. βShit,β he muttered. It was broken. A link had come loose.
βHey, hey,β you held your hand out for it, clicking your fingers to gain his attention when he removed his hand from your back and further attempted to fix the link. βGive it here, sweetheart. Iβll see if I can fix it later. Go on, you donβt want to be late.β He sighed heavily, reluctantly placing the thin chain into your palm where it curled up, along with the wedding band. βGo. Iβll see you later, lieutenant.β
βUh- yeah,β Bob flushed at the easy and fluid way it fell from your mouth, his eyes flickering down towards the smile playing across your face; how it brought so much teasing joy onto your features. βYeah, alright. See you atβ¦β he pulled his t-shirt on and picked his bag up before pausing in the doorway as he thought it over. βUmβ¦ at eight. At the Hard Deck. Iβll see you there.β He turned around, closing the door. It wouldnβt stay closed long. You smiled knowingly, bending down and picking a t-shirt and some underwear from the folded laundry at the foot of the bed. As expected, the door swung open again and he stood there with a flustered smile. βLove you.β
And you were unbelievably late. Bob was sure that you had a good reason for such a thing; another creativity session that brought in a sense of time obliviousness. It happened sometimes, when you got so caught up that the hours would burn too quickly for you to catch. It was fine. He held a plastic cup in one hand, half filled with water while the others all nurse their beer with more eager approach. Occasionally, heβd look towards the entrance; seeking for some sighting of you. βNo offence,β hangman continued as he tugged the pool cue out of Coyoteβs hand, stepping backwards and moving around the table coated in blue felt and decorative designs befitting the clientele of aviators.
His brows furrowed a little at the response, confused by their lack of belief in his marriage status. βOh, well- well, I am- married that is. Iβm married.β Bob nodded, as if to confirm it further with the gesture.
βYeah?β Hangman was smiling slyly as he leant over the table and lined up his shot; that slight expression that meant he was amused and seeking to further embarrass his friend. βWhereβs your wedding band, Bob?β
Instinctively, Bob lifted his hand to grasp the chain that he had grown accustomed to wearing. His stomach fell into a great, empty pit. And he dropped his hand, instead rubbing his thumb against the vacant space on his left hand where it usually resided during leave. βOh- I- Uhβ¦ it broke this morning.β
βYeah?β Coyote murmured, eyes flickering to the movement before taking a gulp of his drink and passing it to Rooster as he rounded the table; trying to analyse his best chance at sinking a ball.
βNot the ring,β Bob flushed at the attention, realising how silly that sounded. βI uh- I keep it on a chain. The chain broke.β
βUh huhβ¦β
βThatβs enough, Bagman,β a soft voice came to his defence, their shorter stature a reassuring presence at his side. βLeave it alone.β
βHangman,β he corrected.
βWhatever,β Phoenix crossed her arms. βEnough.β
βWhat?β he shrugged with bemusement, passing the spare cue to the side and crossed his arms obnoxiously. βIβm just saying-β
βDonβtβ Rooster cut in, the sharp snap of the cue coming in contact with the white ball echoing behind his voice. βLeave it.β
βIβm just saying,β Hangman repeated firmly, staring at her boldly as she sighed at his tone. βHeβs lying. Thatβs all. Thatβs it. Alright? I mean, letβs look at this logically,β he continued, walking closer as if he were stalking his prey. βBob, our baby on board, is married. We have never met this woman. We have never heard of her until now. He conveniently broke the chain his wedding band is on- do i have that right?β He stared questioningly at him and then shrugged. βBobβs lying.β
βIβm not,β Bob told him calmly, narrowing his eyes behind aviator glasses at the accusational tone.
βSo youβre saying the lovely wife of yours, this.. what? your old high school sweetheart, yeah? she stays home to cook and clean like a good housewife in a pink apron. Sheβs real?β
βW-whatβ¦β Bob stared at him in confusion. βNo. I didnβt say that.β
βLook, Iβm not trying to offend you-β
βYet you managed to anyway,β Bob responded bluntly, holding his ground. βYouβre being an asshole.β
βWhatever, man,β Hangman scoffed and started to walk away; dismissing the entire interaction. βIβm getting the next round.β
And then there was you. Across the bar with the door hanging open behind you like an emergency escape route. For just a moment, you stared out at the mass of people crowding the bar like flies on spoiled leftovers. It was surprisingly busy. Instantly, you recognised the figure that was lingering near a pool table in the far corner; cradling a clear cup of water. The sight alone brought a smile to your face, already setting off across the floor towards him; weaving through the crowd with a soft dismissal when someone tried to twirl you into dancing. βNo, thank you,β you shouted over the reverberating music from the jukebox, adjusting your mini skirt with nimble fingers curling under the hem.
βWhat?β he shouted back, leaning in close.
Too close. βHey!β You instinctively leaned away. βBack the fuck up.β You dropped the soft composure, placing your hand out as a barrier.
He raised his hands up with an amused expression while mouthing an apology. Douchebag. βFucking hell,β you muttered to yourself while slipping through the crowd, burying yourself in the masses in an attempt to reach the other side. βFucking, fuck, fuckface.β It was a relief when you passed the dartboard, hearing people cheer and another complain at whoever made the shot. And then your hand came in contact with the wooden beam that was decorated in stickers and other colourful things, clinging to it loosely for a second while watching with amusement. It was only when one of them dropped their glass and spilled their drink with an audible yelp that you turned away with a wince and headed up towards your husband.
βHey, sweetheart,β your voice was a soft approach, going under his bicep and wrapping around him loosely. Your wrists knocking against each other as you slung them around the back of his neck. Instinctively he placed a hand upon your lower back, fingers splaying against the small space of bare skin that was made available from your sweater rising.
βHey,β he brightened at the sight of you, as if you had become his only source of sunlight and it was a privilege to bask in the glow you provided. βAlright, guys,β he looked around at the others, tightening his hold on you for a moment of reassurance. βThis is my wife.β
It was instantaneous, the raised eyebrows and questioning looks towards one another. And then they began to introduce themselves, raising a hand in some cases and shaking your hand in others. All grinning smiles that spoke of how proud they were of their friend, obviously fighting the urge to pat him on the back in congratulations. βHey there, Iβm Natasha,β the woman with a slicked back hairstyle spoke confidently, leaning on a pool cue as she propped herself up. She was beautiful; somewhat pixie-like with her short bridged nose and enchantingly dark eyes. But she appeared sharp in personality. βIβm just going to say it- you are not what anyone was expecting. Wanna hear what Hangman thought youβd be?β
Before you could respond, he had caught sight of you and the inevitable happened. Hangman opened his mouth. βWhat do we have here?β he looked between you both with such glee that it was almost unnerving, putting the tray of drinks on the edge of the table. βNo,β he refused the sight with a laugh, gesturing to you both as if that was enough. βNo. I cannot believe that baby on board- no offence- managed to get into your pants, let alone get you in a white dress.β
Your eyebrows knit together. The fuck? It must have been enough of an expression to make him rethink his initial outburst, as he adjusted his stance and observed you critically; taking in the visible piercings and tattoos, the mini skirt split up one side and held together with thin links of chain; showing off the bold tattoos on your thighs, and the old, oversized sweater with graphic font of some band he didnβt recognise. It didnβt make sense. Not you. Not with straight-laced baby on board.
βSeriously?β He looked around at the others for some sign of fellowship in his disbelief. He received nothing in return. Nothing but the amused smile that was barely concealed on Phoenixβs face, her head tilting slightly with a mocking silence. βGoddamn, my man, you must be laying it down,β Hangman suddenly chuckled, and unfortunately caused a few others to smile at the comment, as he observed you both with mirth swirling in his eyes like some tornado building upon amusement. βCongratulations," he spoke while staring at the ring on your finger for a couple seconds, as if double-checking that one of you was wearing a wedding band.
βThis is Jake,β Phoenix murmured from your side, leaning in slightly. βHe has come to the assumption that heβs funny.β
βHuh, really? I know him as douchebag,β you shifted a little in your husbands arms while adjusting your attention on the smug inclined man.
βHangman.β
βGesundheitβ
He smiled at that, crossing his arms as if to display them more promptly. A display that perfectly fitted his douchebag persona that had, so far, been the only memorable thing about him. βThatβs cute,β he looked up towards your husband. βSheβs cute. Bet you have your hands full with that.β
βLooks like it, yeah.β Bob sounded proud of it though, resting his chin upon the top of your head and swaying slightly with you in his arms. You couldn't resist the urge to preen brightly at that, grinning and melting into his embrace without shame.
βHey, whatβs that called?β
"Specify and i might have an answer for you." You raised an eyebrow at him, watching how that simple expression caught his attention as he stared at the glint of metal.
βThe thing in your ear,β he continued. βI always wondered.β
βDid you?β You murmured with mocking disbelief. βIts a gauge,β you replied efficiently, leaning back against your husband as he curled his fingers around the waistband of your skirt, thumb brushing against the tattoo coating your hip. βOr you can call it an ear-stretcher.β
βHmmβ¦ and how long does it take to get through a metal detector?β
βWhy, are you thinking of getting one?β You grinned at the mere thought of someone like him getting a piercing. βI know a couple places.β
βHmm, I bet. You got any tattoos or other piercings I could see?β He asked, leaning a bit closer and his eyes dropping low. βMaybe Iβm thinking of getting a-β
βJake,β your husband cut him off, his tone firm and leaving no distance with his displeasure at where the conversation was headed.
It was quiet for a moment as he grinned at the conversation, then he sighed and turned around to take the cue from another. βWhat are we play'n?β You shifted against Bob, holding onto his forearms and keeping them wrapped around your chest where you could press your chin upon them.
πππ πππ€π₯
@wholerottentree
Write a comment or send an inbox if you want to be tagged in any specific or nonspecific posts! I'm so grateful for all the reblogs and love <3 especially as a new creator.
Writing a bob floyd x alt!reader at the moment. Hopefully it'll be done tomorrow. Finally got some free time this week to get started on these requests!
If you sent a request recently I have taken it in and it is now placed within my drafts. Eleven so far and all of them are so good! Thank you to everyone that sent them in <3
I wanna ask for a cute fluffy happy ending for my dearest daeron the drunken plsss.
Hi hi! I hope you do too! :) I love this so much! He deserves a happy ending <3 could you send another ask to specify if you want it as an x reader, what year do you want it set (as a lot of changes happen that would alter his place within the royal family after akotsk) and if you want him having a family; ect. Thank you! <3
Send requests for Bob Floyd please :) anything; fluff, smut, angst! I need more to write about that puppy eyed sweetheart. Iβm in a real bob mood rn and need some filthy smut and sweet fluff to focus on.
Bobby Franklin x FReader overstimulation fic or oral (f receiving) with Bobby humping the bed or something? Your writing is great btw
Honeydew - Bobby Franklin
Fandom: Backrooms
Warning: NSFW (18+), f!oral, fingering, a little overstimulation, grinding on bed, and praise.
Relationship: Bobby Franklin x f!reader
Notes: Thank you so much for the love! This request is so good! Lovely and smutty. I hope you enjoy it. Finished a little late since I've been suffering through a heat wave ):
βππ§ππππ₯ππ π πππππ€ - Click for more backrooms
The record skips. A lurch in whatever obnoxious sound that had been filling the bedroom. His arms were resting on either side of your head, intertwining one hand with yours where he could pin it down softly against the pillow above your head, almost touching the headboard; fingers clenching and unclenching against your own with soft reassurances that if you desired, you could easily slip out of the restricting hold. Your other hand had crept beneath his cropped t-shirt, exploring the happy trail between the faint muscle beneath. His abdomen tensed with every lingering touch, sensitive against the pawing of your fingertips.
The perverted slack muscle of his tongue that kneaded your own with eager prodding had you enamoured; completely and utterly absorbed in the taste. It was warm, thick and coated in the essence of something earthy and herbal that clung to him at all times.
Fingers curling under the front of his belt, you used your feverish grip to adjust where he was positioned; dragging him closer between your thighs. Bobby eagerly accepted your request, shifting forward and laid his weight upon you with a soft sigh. It felt as if you were drinking his every kiss, chin lifting as you returned the affection with an eager response. Chasing the soft tingling that settled upon your mouth, you latched onto his bottom lip and sucked. It was slick, lewd, and after a while, achingly overflowing with lust.
Your hand raised slightly; fingers pressing lightly into his skin, trying to hold his jaw but they moved constantly; shifting from beneath his chin, the joint of his jaw, and down to the side where you could feel the muscles in his neck shift beneath the pressure of your fingertips. "Hmm, you're so fuckin' perfect." Bobby pulled back hesitantly, leaving your lips coated in saliva and swollen from his attention. You were panting beneath him, chest heaving with every breath as if he had been stealing them. He looked down at you, staring at your mouth with feverish intent. "Such a pretty thing," he murmured, swiping his thumb against your bottom lip and smudging the excess of spit carelessly. "So fuckin' messy." And then he was dipping back towards your mouth for one last peck, enveloping the soft vibrations as you hummed contently against his affections.
Bobby pulled back again, shifting on his elbows that allowed him to hover above you; the mattress dipping beneath his weight. His hand untangled from your own, leaving them slack against the pillow, and instead nudges the nimble structure of his fingers into crawling against your own. "Listen, what do you wanna doβ¦" he paused for a moment, looking between the flushed position of your bodies with a slight furrow as if he was thinking about his next action carefully. "Umβ¦ fuck, Jesus. Can you- just help me with your belt." When he moved to sit up, you followed him, leaning on your hands for stability. "I mean, stay down, see-" he pushed you back down, ignoring the burst of laughter from his eager fumbling with your belt. "Let's just- see um, it's fine. I've got it." Your belt clinked and then split apart, allowing him access to the button and zipper. He looked back up for just a moment with a smile, his top teeth protruding just slightly; enough that you felt tempted to press the pad of your thumb against canine and premolars.
You couldn't hold back the delighted expression; a familiar tugging sensation at the corner of your mouth. "Uh huh?" you pressed your tongue against your premolars, an attempt to smother the amused twist by occupying your mouth with something else.
"Are youΒ gonna lift up for me?" the question fell softly, but already Bobby had curled his fingers beneath the waistband of your jeans and dragged until the material had slipped past the plush curve of your asscheeks. "Good girl." He paused his eager advancements, realising he was now partially an obstacle to his actions. Shifting back on his knees, he shoved your legs into bending at the knee and then he was pulling your jeans and cotton thong off the rest of the way.
They were thrown somewhere over the edge of the bed to crumble up into a pile against the soft carpet; another thing that was cluttering the bedroom floor. Your hips settle once again upon the mattress. Some part of you was aware of the drastic vulnerability that he had pulled you into. You couldn't feel it. Couldn't even fathom that distinct fact being important when Bobby had shifted between your thighs, laying down on his stomach and resting his chin upon your pelvis. He stared up at you with an anticipated grin. "You're such a pretty boy," you murmured. He pressed an open mouthed kiss against your hip with a pleased grin, trailing across your skin slowly.
You watched with half-lidded eyes, head tilting forward slightly as your breath grew shallow with every careful scrape of his teeth against your soft skin, taunting you with the promise of his mouth. His thumbs were kneading into the soft skin beneath the crook of your knees, gentle coaxing motions that had your limbs feeling especially lethagric as they fell slack on either side. "C'mere⦠fuck. i want you to- Jesus, move your hips up."
"Fucking hell, alright," you laughed as he curled his fingers under the plush curve of your ass, coaxing your hips up slightly.
Bobby slung one arm around your thighs, restraining your movement as his forearm presses against your upper thighs and then dragged you down the mattress a couple inches. With the other he slowly gathered the beginning of your juices upon the gentle pads of his fingers, soaking them in the action of caressing your clit with his index and middle finger before using them to spread your folds apart. There was no announcement, no soft words to inform you of his next action. There was just the lewd pressure of his tongue pressing flush against your cunt, licking up in one fluid motion that had all the cruel precision of stealing your sense of stability. "F-fuck-" your whine dipped beneath the surface, catching in your throat as your hips moved without permission, seeking the slight curl at the tip of his tongue that collected your slick. You reached behind your head and allowed your knuckles to strain under the pressure of clenching the lifeless pillow, fingernails digging into the fabric. "B-Bobby- fuck."
"Yeah?" Bobby murmured, barely listening to your pleasure addled whining, pulling back slightly to throw one of your thighs over his shoulder. He almost laughed when he saw the expression on your face; eyes closed and mouth slightly parted. And he was pressing his tongue upon you again. His tongue dragged heavily, slowly coaxing every soft sound from your mouth with his gentle stroking. "Litt-" you inhaled slightly, barely a breath to fill your lungs. "Little to the left."
Bobby was fighting the urge to smile when your hips had begun to grind in slow shifting motions. "T-there," you nodded feverishly, back arching softly as you welcomed the soft pleasure he was providing so kindly. "Please," the whining sound was embarrassing, but it has him feverishly lapping at your slit with unveiled excitement to taste every lick of arousal that he could capture. He hadn't started to on purpose, it was an absentminded thing that caught him unawares until his lower abdomen tensed during a particularly delicious grind of his bulge against the rough texture of his jeans as he widened his knees and pressed down on the dishevelled bedding. If he was less disciplined in the usual acts that unfolded on the bed, he would have shoved a hand beneath his belt to grasp the twitching length of his cock in hope of some relief. Instead, he pressed further into you, dipping lower to swirl the tip of his tongue against the soft fluttering of your cunt.
You gasped sharply, eyes squeezing shut with the throes of pleasure that seeped into your head. "F-Fuck, fuck, fuck." You babbled weakly as your thighs squirmed under his hold, nuzzling into your bicep after throwing one arm over your face, as he prodded mercilessly. Every helpless clench was useless. Your body shivered at the teasing pressure that barely entered more than an inch. It was torture. Your mind was shoved into that little corner that could only manage to trail along the desperate desire to feel the pressure of his cock stretching your cunt pleasantly.
You grumbled when he pulled away, stealing that edge of pleasure. Preventing that lovely edge. "Look at you, so needy for attention. So fuckin' pretty. So sweet." He tightened his hold upon your thighs, holding them still as your hips attempted to rise up with desperation. He kissed your inner thigh, a smear of your slick left behind, and he dragged his fingers through the sopping folds, then, while admiring how you were dripping down to his knuckles, he decided to move his fingers from side to side in an erratic motion that stripped you down into pleasure filled intoxication. He was wearing you thin. Every tentative, open mouthed kiss upon your thighs had your limbs begging to squirm. "Bobby-" you mewled, shuddering violently, reaching down to grasp his wrist when he pinched your clit teasingly.
"Shhh, I've got you," he promised, kissing your clit softly as if to apologise for the harsh treatment. His hips shifted against the mattress again, searching for friction while his fingers coated in your juices. It felt impossible to focus on both things, his cock leaking a patch of pre-cum into the denim of his jeans. "Fuck, Jesus, this is..." he presses against your welcoming cunt until you enveloped his index and middle finger in one fluid movement. Your legs jolted on his shoulders at the sudden intrusion, biting on your tongue until a metalic tang began to form.
He angled his fingers in an upward direction before curling them with careful adjustment that allowed the pads of his fingers to press against the soft, spongy area inside. "There we go. That's it, isn't it?" he murmured, dragging his fingers slowly back and forth with knowing precision
Hand twisted into the soft fabric of your t-shirt, you tugged it up enough that your breasts were revealed. You wanted it off. It was too hot. It was too. It was. It was too much. Your head tilted back with a shudder, hips pushing down eagerly to grind into his hand. "Stay still, baby." He dragged his fingers slowly, curling against your walls, and pushed them back in until your brows furrowed, breath hitching softly and thighs trembling like static. "That's it. Stay still. Doin' so well. Hmm?" Bobby's breath was warm against your inner thigh, the lewd presence of his teeth a delicate display of nipping that would inspire blotches. His mouth moved further up, returning to your cunt where he could lap at your folds with eager flicks.
Gradually, he had polluted what scraps of sanity were stuck beneath a passive resistance. It was bone deep, becoming an aching cavity in your lower abdomen as he savours the excess of juices with a slight curl of his tongue dragging between your folds. The warm slick that he had coaxed out of your cunt had become a banquet sweeter than honeydew. His knuckles pressed against your cunt with every jolting thrust of his fingers that sought out the soft, spongy spot inside with exhilarating dedication. Your juices were dripping down to his wrist. The sound of it had become obscene, crowding the cluttered apartment with the squelch of his fingers stuffing your cunt repeatedly without restraint. Part of you was sure he would pull away and lick it up as if you were some kind of melting desert that couldn't be allowed to drip. But he didn't. Bobby devoured what was laid in front of him, lapping at your pussy with undignified delight. His name was repeated endlessly, settling familiarly within your mouth. And you knew the softness of every letter would haunt your moments without him.
You were losing self-control, inch by tentative inch it was being stolen out from under your feet. His mouth clung to your clit, sucking heavily as his tongue flicked and then laid flat against it to drag through your folds. "C'mon, baby," he murmured, moving a little higher where he found that spot that had your legs collapsing against his shoulder, your cunt clenching tightly around his fingers. The faint fluttering of your walls were grasping at him to provide some relief from the relentless drag of his fingers fucking into you. "Hmm- fuck- fuck- I can't," you whimpered, back arching when he crooked his fingers a little more and his other hand pressed down firmly on your naval. It swallows you wholly, barreling through gravity and taking over your mind like some parasitic retelling that had your body overflowing with a swirling, white ecstasy. It felt fragile. An overwhelming thing that split the seams open inside your belly and threw your silent sedation into a lewd display of convulsions, trembling thighs and a mouth that opened slightly to gasp fretfully at filling your lungs.
"Pretty thing, aren't you? Fuckin' dripping all over my fingers." Your thighs trembled violently, clenching around his wrist as he crawled up your body and captured your mouth in a open-mouthed display of affection; swallowing every hitching whimper that crawled up your throat with a satisfied chuckle. "There you go. There. That's it," he coaxed as his thumb swivelled upon your throbbing clit and his fingers ground against your walls softly, guiding you through it while idly thinking about the bulge in his trousers as he licked into your mouth with lewd intention, leaving behind the taste of your cunt that he had so diligently cared for. It was smeared across his mouth, a sweet gleam across his chin. "Good girl," Bobby murmured, your mouth barely touching his own as your breath mingled, his tone twisted in a mockingly lyrical tilt as he grinned with triumph. "You did so fuckin' good."
You barely nodded at the praise, the ringing in your ears muffling the world. But you held onto him, grasping his shoulders tightly and chased his mouth desperately despite the ragged way you attempted to fill your lungs. "I did..." you whispered as he brought his fingers to a still inside, only gently rubbing the pads of his fingers against your walls as if to soothe the constant fluttering. You were only halfaware of what you were even agreeing with. "Yeah."
Relationship: Bacteria!Bobby Franklin x Kat Taylor x F!Original Character
Notes: Preview of what I'm cooking up <3 This fic will feature Bobby Franklin merging with Entity (also known as Lifeform and Bacteria), a slow process after it finds his corpse. And Kat Taylor lost in the backrooms... this ride or die is staying alive!
Synopsis: ASYNC researcher Rowan Avery is assigned to go on frequent expeditions into the Backrooms where she can update and keep data logs of an irregularity with the Entity.
IMPORTANT: Inspired by the concept of @the-darklings better!bobby series <3
βππ§ππππ₯ππ π πππππ€ - Click for more backrooms
TYPING. . . . > Ju05_90_ARCHIVE.tar
ENTER β¬
[ SYSTEM ERROR:βββ ββββββ βββββββββ ]
CLEARANCE ACCEPTED . . . HELLO, AVERY. . . YOUR ACCESS HAS BEEN GRANTED. RESTRICTED FILES ARE READY. VIEW WITH DISCRETION.
- SUGGESTED ACTIONS:
[1] PRESS ENT β¬
LOADING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . LOADING . . .
FILENAME: Jul05_90_ARCHIVE.tar
> OPEN_
NOISE DETECTION
- EVIDENCE LOG:
Β Β Β CAM5 07/05/1990 21:15:43:55
Β Β Β CAM6 07/05/1990 21:46:28:12
MOTION DETECTION
-EVIDENCE LOG:
Β Β Β CAM1 07/05/1990 21:12:37:11
Β Β Β CAM3 07/05/1990 21:44:14:48
Β Β Β CAM6 07/05/1990 21:49:22:31
RESEARCHER REPORT
- EVIDENCE LOG:
Β Β Β TEST SUBJECT B. ENTITY 01 SERIES. (AR, INST; ROOM 14D) SUBJECT EXHIBITS SEVERE TISSUE DAMAGE AND EVIDENCE OF MUTATION. ENTITY 01, ALSO KNOWN AS BACTERIA, HAS BEEN REPORTED RETURNING TO THE TEST SUBJECT AND RESTORING ITS FORMER APPEARANCE AS A BLACK SUBSTANCE. THE RESPONSE AND MOTIVE ARE STILL BEING DEBATED./DATE: 07.05.90/
gummygunk
origamiaround
titsay
germansingergirl
prguitarman
jacobvanloon