#one more month and then I can just sit and relax with no worries or assignments glaring down my back

[kellykadesperate]

Number 4 or maybe mix it with number 3 if you feel like this? Robron of course.

i went with number 4!

��Yes there’s one bed. No, I won't be sleeping on the floor.”

“One weekend. Two nights.” 

Aaron pulls this face but keeps typing. “I know how a weekend works.” He says, just to be his difficult annoying self.

“I’ll make it up to you.” Robert begs. He’s really not short of doing that right now.

Aaron finally looks up at him. Robert feels a little weak against it but he can’t get into that right now. He can’t mix real feelings with the ones he’s going to be asking Aaron to fake. 

“You have no one else to ask.”

“No.” Robert is adamant. “Please, I’ve already mentioned you to Vic before so she knows –”

“You’ve mentioned me to your sister?” Aaron says and he makes it a thing. Robert squirms against it a little. Yes, Aaron’s name has come up. It’s not a big deal. They work together. Aaron’s fit. He’s also gay. He’s also someone Robert has probably been a little crazy over for a few years but again, it doesn’t matter.

“Will you come?” Robert asks.

Aaron answers with an eye roll and a nod. It might as well be an enthusiastic agreement and Robert makes sure to tell Vic he won’t be there alone, that he has a plus one. She squeals with excitement over the fact that it’s Aaron. The Aaron she actually says.

It’s going to be a long weekend.

It turns out the way as soon as they arrive. The line is, they’re colleagues but it became something more a few months ago. Robert is going with the whole relatively new thing so that they don’t trip each other up at all. 

“And we’re doing this because Vic’s worried about you?” 

It sounds genuinely sad when Aaron puts it like that but it’s true. His little sister seems to think he can’t hold anyone down considering his last real relationship ended with Chrissie kicking him to the curb. 

He mentioned Aaron in passing, once, then twice and Vic soon realised he was halfway in love with him. It was easy to pretend until she was asking him to visit over the weekend and bringing Aaron was naturally brought up.

“It’s so amazing to finally meet ya, Robert’s mad about you.” Vic squeezes Aaron who blushes bright red.

“Feelings mutual.” Aaron says and Robert swoons a little. Especially when Aaron pulls his hand over Robert’s back. 

As soon as Vic disappears into the kitchen, the hand is gone and Aaron scowls at Robert. 

“You told her you were mad about me?” Aaron questions Robert. 

Robert genuinely wants the ground to swallow him up.

“No she – I didn’t –”

“Right, your room is up here boys.” Vic sounds so happy. The room is smaller than Robert remembers. He keeps a smile on his face until she disappears and says she’ll let them settle like there’s much to do. 

Aaron stares down at the bed. 

“Aaron …”

“Yes there’s one bed. No, I won't be sleeping on the floor.” Aaron plonks his bag down on the bed and Robert feels a little lightheaded at the thought of sleeping next to Aaron.

“Uh.” Robert runs a hand through his hair. “Well. I can.” 

Aaron sniffs, has a hand on his hip and shrugs. “Do what you like.” He says. Then he scowls. “You so owe me for this.” He points out. Like he really bloody needs to.

Later, they’re sitting by a fire Vic’s made in her little garden and Aaron’s listening to Robert and Vic swap stories about their childhood. Robert can see that Aaron doesn’t look angry anymore, he’s looking between them both and genuinely smiling. He looks relaxed, beer in hand and a small smile on his face. 

The moon is high in the sky by the time Vic calls it a night and says she’ll see them both tomorrow. Before they head up, Robert watches as Vic talks quietly to Aaron, hand on his arm and everything. It makes him panic for a second, think about Aaron slipping up and saying they just happen to work together. 

By the time they both walk up to their room, there’s a little buzz between them. He’s sure it’s the beers. 

Aaron slumps down on the bed and sighs. Robert stands up by the door and then decides to sit on the little chair near the wardrobe. 

“She’s lovely.” Aaron says. 

Robert smiles, genuine and bright. “She’s the best of us.” He says.

Aaron gulps hard and looks at Robert. “You’re not so bad either.” He whispers. “At all.”

Robert dips his head a little and decides to be honest. “You don’t have to – I don’t know, indulge me or whatever. I know I practically begged you to come here but –”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be here.” Aaron says, like it’s obvious. Then he stands, and suddenly he’s right in front of Robert. “Vic said …”

“Oh God.” Robert stands and feels so embarrassed he wants to cry. He covers a hand over his face and hopes that Aaron legs it out the room or just disappears into thin air or something. “Look, Aaron I –”

“Can I kiss ya?” 

It’s probably the last thing he expected to hear. Aaron’s eyes are so blue, and determined and he’s so close to him.

“Yes.” Robert says, and then Aaron presses him against the wall and runs a hand over the back of Robert’s hair, holds his neck and brings him even closer. When they part, Robert thinks he’s entered another universe or something. “Uh – that wasn’t pity right?”

Aaron laughs a little, keeps a hand snaked around Robert’s waist. “I think.” He genuinely does look like he’s trying to work it out himself. “That was me realising I’ve always fancied ya. Giving the whole kissing you thing a go and not bottling it.”

Robert gulps hard. He feels like he’s under water.

“You –”

“And you like me. We’ve caught each other up yeah?” Aaron tilts his head. 

Robert nods. 

“So you don’t mind sharing a bed then? I don’t think my back could handle the floor.”

Aaron nods. “I don’t mind at all.” He says. 

“That’s good to know.” Robert is so nervous. He feels it rush through him and Aaron probably picks up on it because he kisses him gently.

“Stop staring at me.” Aaron’s eyes are closed an hour later but he has a small smile on his face that won’t budge. 

Robert shakes his head. “I should have told you to pretend to be my boyfriend ages ago.”

Aaron peaks an eye open. “You’ve liked me for a while?”

Robert feels braver suddenly. “Yeah.” He whispers.

“Should have said something.” Aaron says and he scoots a little closer. His leg hangs over Robert’s. “I thought I was reading into things until you asked me here.”

“I didn’t ask you here to win you over.”

“You didn’t need to win me over.” Aaron kisses Robert. Robert doesn’t ever imagine himself getting used to the feeling. “We don’t have to pretend anymore. You up for that.”

Robert can’t think of anything better.

[emily-mooon]

The minute I’m free from my assignments I will be jumping for joy

[gloomwitchwrites]

i saw a tiktok of a heavily pregnant woman saying “maybe i dont give him butterflies anymore but i do give him high blood pressure” then they walk by their S/O with a latter and power tools. and i have been thinking about how the guys would react ever since

Oh, anon. This is so cute! I love this. I know the trend you're talking about, but I feel like I haven't seen it with pregnant women specifically, but I find it even more hilarious if it is. I had a lot of fun with this one. Thank you for sending it in!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, dad!141, pregnancy, married life, parenthood, domestic fluff

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Get off the ladder, cabbage.” John exhales, trying his best to keep his voice calm.

You’re standing just high enough on the ladder to rest your pregnant belly on the top rung. John stands directly behind you, both hands firmly planted on either side of you against the rail. It’s not to support the ladder but to catch you if you fall. A potentially likely possibility since you’re carrying extra weight in front of you. You could easily tip back enough to lose your balance.

“I’m fine, John,” you reply, continuing on as if he’s not worrying.

It’s maddening how relaxed you are, like the potential factor of danger is a completely foreign concept.

“Please,” he emphasizes. “Get off the ladder.”

“Why?” you ask. “I’m more than capable.”

“You are,” he agrees. “But you’re also pregnant.”

“So?”

“Cabbage,” warns John.

“Fine,” you exhale.

John keeps his hands on your hips the entire time. When you’re back on solid ground, some of that tension melts away, but his heart still thumps quickly.

You lightly cup his cheek, batting your eyelashes at him. “Were you worried about me, John?”

John places his hand on your belly. “Worried about all three of you.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle sits at the kitchen table, sorting through the mail. With a heavy sigh, he opens the energy bill, removing the paperwork, reading over the breakdown of energy usage for the month.

From his peripheral, Kyle notices movement. Glancing away from the itemized bill, Kyle’s gaze softens when you walk into the kitchen. You’re pregnant, close to your due date. Even waddling around, Kyle can’t seem to keep his hands off you.

He leans back in his chair, appreciating you for a few languid seconds, then his heart drops into his stomach.

“Damn it all. Put that down, love.”

Kyle shoots out of his chair, trying to calmly but quickly make it over to you.

“I’m fine,” you insist, attempting to walk by. “I can assemble it.”

“No.” Kyle’s tone is firm but gentle. “Give it here.”

His heart is pounding, anxiety spiking from not just the power drill you carry, but the cardboard box full of wood you’re attempting to guide down the hall.

“You sit here.” He points to the chair. “Sort the mail. I’ve got this.”

You slowly ease down into the chair, and Kyle breathes deep, trying to calm his nerves. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters.

John "Soap" MacTavish

He hears your footsteps first, and then your voice as you curse under your breath.

Johnny lounges on the sofa, reclining against a fluffy pillow. At his feet are his two-year old twin daughters. On the television, a Bluey episode plays. The girls aren’t watching. They’re smashing their dolls together and running them over with the yellow toy excavator.

Sitting up, Johnny glances over the top of the couch

At first, he smiles. Then frowns. Then launches himself off the couch.

“Put it down,” commands Johnny. “Drop it.” He steps on a doll and winces, wobbling slightly.

You turn toward him, pregnant belly coming into view. You’re carrying a ladder, the large one, and you’re not supposed to be lifting anything over a certain weight.

“Down,” he repeats. “Put it down.”

You roll your eyes and turn away. Johnny makes it to you quickly, grabbing the ladder and placing it on the floor.

“What are you thinking?” he asks. “You’re bloody pregnant.”

“Don’t yell at me.”

“I’m—I’m not yelling,” soothes Johnny, cupping your face in his hands. “But you gave me a right scare, yeah?” He kisses your forehead. “I’ll take care of it. Go sit with the girls.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon is curled up on the sofa, a precious bundle in his lap. His two-year old daughter rests her head against his chest, gaze focused on the colorful pages.

“He started to look for some food,” reads Simon from The Very Hungry Caterpillar. “On Monday he ate through one apple.” His daughter traces the outline of the apple, and then runs her finger over the caterpillar. “But he was still hungry.”

As Simon turns the page, he hears your soft but determined footsteps. He briefly looks away from the book, his gaze falling on your belly, round and full of his child. Inwardly, he smiles, knowing that the family you’ve created together is about to grow by one.

“On Tuesday he ate through two pears,” continues Simon. “But he was still—”

His voice disappears, and his stomach flips, blood pressure spiking as he watches you turn the corner. You have a step stool tucked under your arm and a drill in your hand.

“Goddamn it,” he mutters, lifting his daughter out of his lap and placing her on the sofa. “Daddy will be back shortly, doll.”

He kisses the top of her head, and then takes off after you. With the added weight, your steps are slow, and it only takes Simon a few strides to walk past you and cut you off before you make it to the nursery.

“What are you doing?” he asks, reaching for the drill.

“Hanging a painting,” you reply like it’s no big deal.

Simon sighs. “Give it here.”

“I can do it,” you insist, turning away from his reaching hands.

Simon plucks the drill out of your hand and holds it out of reach. “Give me the step stool.” With a pout, you surrender it. “Gonna give me a bloody heart attack.”

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

This piece contains 18+ content

pairing Eddie Munson x Female Reader

summary After stumbling across Eddie’s intimate drawings of you, you’re left reeling, but what unfolds that night is less about the pictures and more about the trust and closeness they force to the surface. [contains fluff, artsy eddie who's a little rough around the edges, nude drawings, smut | wc 5.8k]

a/n based on this request by the lovely @valinherfantasyworld

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Under the hum of fluorescent lights, you stand waiting as a small fan rotates to blow air your way. The gas pumps outside had been empty, but the open sign held enough promise for you to mosey on in. With a sigh, you reach out to hit the top of the dainty silver call bell for the second time. The checkout counter is dotted with planetary and extra-terrestrial figurines. Old, peeling stickers are stuck to the wood as well. 

It isn’t lost on you that you could bypass paying for the trail mix and jerky and walk out the door. The intrusive thought comes just as Nelson bursts from the break room with his famously grizzled beard. His shoes squeak against the sticky floor as he hobbles to his place behind the counter with considerable reliance on his scuffed, wooden cane. When he sits on the stool, air expels from the cushion in a low, high-pitched whine. 

“My apologies,” he tilts his head to look at you from over the top of his chunky glasses. The prescription is so high that it makes his hazel eyes look larger than they are. 

You shake your head in dismissal as you push Wayne’s snacks towards him with a polite smile. He punches the prices into the cash register with practiced ease. His fingers move quickly and precisely like a starved bird pecking the ground for food.  

“No help today?” you ask. 

Nelson puffs an exasperated breath. “That Henderson kid’s supposed to be here,” he says. “Runnin’ late ‘cause of math club.” 

You hum, trying not to smile when he mutters something about priorities and the youth these days. 

“Need a bag?” He puts the snacks in one before you can answer. “Say, aren’t you dating the Munson boy?” 

“Only for the past six months,” you lightheartedly quip. 

Nelson seldom asked a question he didn’t know the answer to. Everybody in Hawkins shopped at Boone’s Quick Mart, whether they wanted to or not. Convenience trumps luxury any day, and there’s nothing quite like Southern hospitality wrapped in a Midwestern package.

As a pillar in the community for the past thirty years, Nelson Boone knows who’s who and what’s what—Tina Johnson’s divorce from her wandering-eyed husband, Jaden Rockwell’s C+ on his report card, the McNulty family’s move to Boise. This is a man who sees and hears all. 

He meets your gaze with his googly eyes. “So you heard about what happened to him last night?” 

A small stone of worry drops into your gut. “Something happened?” 

Nelson looks at you from over his glasses again, a thrilled smirk playing on his lips. “Something? Hell, I reckon he saved my ass from getting killed.” 

The spark of excitement that curls in his tone reminds you of his tendency to stretch the truth just enough to make eyes widen and jaws drop a little faster. You bar yourself against the bait in hopes he’ll be more stripped and forthcoming. It works, if the way his shoulders relax is any clue. 

“Guy from outta town comes in all big and bad, demanding I empty the register,” he starts. “Meanwhile, Munson’s in the back near the pop. All I’m thinking at this point is, I should’ve gone ahead and made those revisions to my will like I was planning to—” 

“What did Eddie do?” you cut in. 

Nelson clears his throat. “Long story short, the guy whips out some kind of folding knife, they scuffle for a bit, then Munson knocks the rest of buddy’s screws loose.” 

“What?” Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead. 

“Scout’s honor,” Nelson says, holding up three fingers. “He didn’t mention it?” 

You blink a few quick times as worry swirls within you. “Haven’t seen him in a few days.” 

Nelson shifts on the stool and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a meaty finger. “Well, that kid’s got the biggest pair in all of Hawkins, I tell you what.” He laughs a quick bark of a sound that sends him into a brief coughing fit. “Imagine that, though. Me dying in ‘88, the year of our Lord.” 

“Imagine that,” you murmur. 

You place the money on the counter with buzzing fingers and blood rushing in your ears. 

•••

Wayne’s truck is the only vehicle parked out front when you arrive at the trailer. The grass is greener, and the small flower bed Eddie helped you plant is vibrant and thriving. Before Spring settled, you’d told both Munsons that nurturing their slice of Hawkins could give them something to feel proud of. They’d taken it to heart. 

Though neither would ever admit it to your face, you’d come into their life and transformed it from grayscale to technicolor. 

As a breeze rustles through the surrounding trees, the early evening sun ventures closer towards the horizon. 

When the front door pushes open with a dull creak, Wayne looks up from where he’s wiping crumbs off the small kitchen table nestled beside the window. He’s in jeans and an old tee that’s loose around the collar. A smile pulls at his lips as you pad inside. 

“Thought that was you,” he says. “What’s this?” Wayne peeks into the bag as you set it on the table. 

“Special delivery.” 

“Told ya you ain’t gotta go outta your way for me like this.” He shakes his head with a sigh, but you know he’s grateful. 

“Saves you an extra stop before work, right?” You gently nudge his shoulder. 

“Thanks, darlin.’” After walking the towel back over to the sink, he catches the hint of concern in your eyes as you linger near the table. 

“Everything alright?” 

You open your mouth a couple of times. “Is Eddie okay?” 

Wayne’s gray eyebrows furrow. “Yeah. I mean, he’s Eddie.” He chuckles. “You just missed him. Called about five minutes ago and said something about getting off a little later than usual.” 

You frown. “So that’s why he hasn’t made it in.” 

Wayne hums a sound of confirmation. “Said he could meet you at Benny’s at six, though,” he says. “Also mentioned something about the lake. Asked you to bring his camera.” 

At the very least, the man’s words assure you that the events of last night hadn’t been as bad as you made them out to be in your mind. 

•••

The next hour passes with a slow, Hawkins kind of ease. When you push into Eddie’s bedroom in search of his camera, the air smells like him: pinewood with a faint, smokey undertone. All things considered, the space is tidier than it’s been over the past couple of weeks. 

The open surfaces are no longer strewn with random receipts and wrappers. All his fantasy figurines are organized with a greater sense of intentionality. Even the Iron Maiden poster, whose corner once slouched off the wall, has now been readhered. 

Leave it up to Eddie to make order out of chaos again and again.  

You locate the Nikon on his dresser in seconds. The frame counter rests a few notches before 1, and after a brief pause of debate, you pop the film door open to see if there’s any film inside. Relief washes over you when you realize the chamber is empty, and you haven’t just exposed a brand-new roll to the light. In search of a fresh canister, you squat at his nightstand and pull open the top drawer. Nothing. Mainly guitar accessories: picks, sheets of music, old bridge pins—along with a couple of stray condoms. 

You move to the drawer beneath it, where journals, sketchbooks, and art supply pouches. However, a small cylindrical container tucked in the back corner catches your attention. The top of your hand pinches against the drawer when you attempt to reach the new roll of film without disturbing the other contents. That’s when you make the executive decision to pull out the first couple of sketchbooks. 

In doing so, three pictures slip out: you on a park bench smiling, you sitting on his bed attempting to play his guitar, you taking too big of a bite off an ice cream cone. 

A smile buds on your face as you flip the sketchbook open to tuck the photos back inside. Time stops. On the page is a beautiful portrait of you. It's not a mere sketch; this is much too involved. You were under the impression that he only ever drew the characters for his campaigns this intricately—dragons, celestials, faye. 

As far as you knew, your likeness was only ever confined to his quicker sketches because you were always around. It was easy to capture you in the moment with no pressure. Can’t replicate perfection, sweetheart. 

It isn’t until you’ve turned a few pages ahead that a different type of surprise prickles through you. Blooming and warm like the beginning of spring, but with a more rogue intensity. One that feels borderline forbidden because this next drawing itself ought to have remained tucked away in a secret place. 

Your lips aren’t wrapped around ice cream but Eddie’s index and middle fingers. A line of saliva runs down your chin as your eyes sparkle. 

You flip to the next drawing. In this one, you’re topless and kneeling, legs spread in an unabashed V. One of your hands plays between your thighs as you look up through your lashes. It’s drawn from memory, no doubt. Eddie had yet to capture you on film in such a vulnerable light. 

Another page. Eddie’s hand is wrapped around your neck. You recognize the skeleton tattoo that constitutes the back of his right hand to give the illusion that his bones are bared. 

Another. Your backside is drawn from the perspective of whoever stands behind you. There’s an abstractness to it, in a way. The shading suggests slight irritation or bruising from impact against your delicate skin. 

The last drawing you gleam features you lying face down with your bottom up, wrists tied with rope. Indents on your skin suggest that you’ve tried to pull free—

Something flips low in your gut. White noise fills your ears as you snap the sketchbook closed and put it back where it belongs. You move on autopilot as you toss Eddie’s camera and film into your tote bag and scramble out of his room. 

•••

The water is calm as it laps at the bank of the lake. Gnats flutter around while tree leaves rustle. On a summer evening such as this, Lover’s Lake is a wonder. Above, the sky stretches like the handiwork of a master artist. Blue fades to burnt orange to rustic lavender in a seamless ombre. Your eyes remain on the water below as you kick your feet off the edge of the dock. 

Eddie nudges your knee with his after a while. The upper portion of his coveralls is tied around his waist, exposing his white T-shirt and lean tattooed arms. The sleeve on his right arm is fuller and extends all the way to his hand. 

Despite the intricate designs inked across his skin, you can make out the thin, red scratches on his forearms and the few cuts that pepper his knuckles. None of them override the dark ink of his tattoos, but you can see them since you’re sitting so close. The ones on his neck are visible all the more because they have little to camouflage with. Some are old, but most of them are undeniably fresher. You’ve been cataloguing them all evening. 

You peer over at him with a pensive smile. His camera rests on the opposite side of him. He’d captured a few shots of you and the scenery when there was a little more light. 

“You’re quiet,” he says.

“Just enjoying the view.” 

Eddie briefly wrinkles his nose and looks out at the lake. Touché. 

The silence returns, but Eddie can’t settle into it for the life of him. He shifts, one knee propping up. “You gotta give me something to work with here.” He tries to meet your adverted gaze. “Did I say something to piss you off?” 

All you can do is manage a swallow. There were enough distractions to carry you through dinner at Benny’s, but the world seems much smaller and stripped out here. No music, chatter, or waitress checking in to refill your drinks. It’s just you, Eddie, and the unmatched stillness of nature. All of which are fertile ground for your thoughts to wander and unavoidably return to the fact he hadn’t said a word about what happened at Boone’s—or the contents of his sketchbook. Especially now that he won’t look away from you. 

Worry intensifies Eddie’s gaze. The same gaze that you now know has studied and considered you more intimately than you ever imagined. You can’t help but feel bare and exposed now. It was yet another brick to lay on top of the fact that he’d refrained from telling you about the events at Quick Mart. 

You finally look over at him.  

“Please talk to me,” he says. 

You take his larger hand in yours. He remains quiet, hopeful. You study his palm, then turn it over to assess the back of his hand, the cuts just barely visible over the skeleton tattoo covering it. You wish he could be a fraction as open and forthcoming as the illusion his tattoo presents.

“Did something happen last night?” you ask. 

A defensive edge slips into his voice. “What do you mean?” 

“At Quick Mart,” you say. 

In the time that Eddie combs through his mind in search of the right approach, you say it yourself, “You were in a fight.” It’s not fair to state it so clinically, but you do it anyway. 

Eddie looks more betrayed than surprised. “No, I wasn’t,” he says. “Not like that.” 

You feel a pang of guilt over the earnest way he expresses it, like a kid trying to prove their innocence. 

Over the years, he’d gotten better about his temper. About how quick he was to handle certain situations with the scrappier instincts of his youth. He knew now, more than ever, that words alone could get him much further than his fists. Throughout the latter half of his overstayed run in the public school system, he’d been forced to prove himself physically time after time, so he had no choice but to get good at it. Sometimes, he jumped the gun, but that wasn’t him. Not anymore.  

“It wasn’t over nothing,” he explains. “Asshole was trying to—” 

“I know, Teddy,” you’re quick to assure, voice soft. “Wasn’t pointing fingers. I’m just glad everybody’s okay.” You squeeze his hand. 

His gaze flickers down. “Sorry,” he murmurs, exhaling. He speaks up after a while. “Was it Nelson who told you?” 

The thought of Nelson—endearing, googly-eyed Nelson—makes your lips twitch upwards. Eddie almost doesn’t believe it, but he’s grateful. A fraction of the tension melts from his shoulders as levity creeps in. He presses closer to feel the shake of your shoulders as you chuckle despite yourself. If you don’t laugh, you’ll mess around and find a reason to cry. 

Your amusement eventually subsides into something stiller. “Wish it’d been you, though.” 

Eddie takes the blow. “Swear I was gonna tell you.” He dips his head to kiss the bulb of your shoulder. “Just wanted to give everything some breathing room. Didn’t want you to get all worked up and worried. Hate making you worry.” 

“Forget worry,” you say lightly. “If something involves you, I’ll always wanna know. I care about you.” Those words stir a gratefulness in his chest.  “I want you to tell me things even when they’re scary or hard.” 

Eddie sees the sincerity in your gaze. A hint of confliction seems to reside there as well.  

“No more secrets,” he promises. 

He holds out his pinkie, and just when he thinks you’re going to ignore it, you hook yours around his. It’s no surprise that he squeezes. As playful as he is, you should’ve seen it coming. You yelp and attempt to pull your hand away, but he leans in to steal a kiss that you allow him to take. A satisfied smile lingers on his face afterward. 

With a proud sigh, he lays back on the wooden planks of the dock, hair splaying like mane. With your eyes you map the faint freckles on his face when he closes his eyes, then trace his eyebrows, the slope of his nose, the relaxed pout of his lips. 

Eddie’s eyes soon flutter open to meet yours.

He offers a smile. “Hmm?”

You shrug, chuckling in a mix of nerves and relief. “Just thinking of something Nelson said about you,” you say. “‘That kid’s got the biggest pair in all of Hawkins.’” 

A surprised laugh bubbles out of him that makes his eyes crinkle and his chest shake. You join in. When the moment settles into something tamer but still a bit charged, Eddie holds your gaze as he reaches down between his legs to rest a hand over his crotch. 

“You’ve seen ‘em first hand,” he drawls, palming himself through the fabric of his coveralls. “Whaddya think?” 

Heat floods your cheeks, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of leaving you speechless. “Jury’s still out.” 

Another laugh rumbles through him and ends with a snort. His eyes shimmer when he calms down. You’re there to twirl your finger around one of his curls and give it an affectionate tug. 

A gentle breeze rolls through and makes a part of you wish it could carry the memory of his drawings away with it. At least so you could settle into the serenity of the moment in an unadulterated way. Those thoughts don’t leave you, however. His face alone is a reminder of his secret envisionings of you. 

•••

Later that night, in the dim lamplight of Eddie’s room, you lie face up on his bed, eyes glued to the ceiling. It’s as if the act will still your nerves, but it doesn’t. 

Eddie emerges from the bathroom whistling, a gray towel wrapped around his slender waist. You loll your head to look at him just long enough to catalogue his damp curls, his myriad of tattoos, the light dusting of hair between his pecs, and the even darker trail that descends from his belly button. His back turns to you as he saunters to his dresser. There’s a dagger tattooed between his shoulder blades. 

“Miss me?” he asks as he digs pajamas out of his drawer. 

When you don’t respond, he peeks over his shoulder. Your gaze is directed towards the ceiling.  

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Sorry. I’m just tired.” 

He hums. Your silence takes root beneath his skin and yields a certain self-consciousness. It wasn’t like you to be so disengaged. Not when it came to him. There was no denying his magnetism, even when he wasn’t actively trying to work the room. 

“Okay, what’s really going on?” Eddie walks to the side of the bed and stares down at you. “You’ve been acting funny all evening.” 

You push yourself upright, swinging your legs off the side of the bed. To buy yourself some time, you rub your eyes with your fists as if tiredness truly is to blame. There’s nowhere to hide when your hands inevitably drop back down to rest in your lap. Still, Eddie fails to get a read. 

“Talk to me, Goose.” He taps your chin with a gentle knuckle. “Is that gas station shit really bothering you that bad?” Eddie winces at his own irritation. “That came out wrong. Shit.” 

He takes a deep breath. “I honestly didn’t think it was that big of a deal. The guy had what was coming to him.”

“I care about you, is all,” you say. “Am I allowed to do that?” 

His eyes are apologetic as he looks down at you. “You’re allowed.” 

“No more secrets, right?” you say. “That’s what you promised.” 

Eddie nods slowly, unsure of where this conversation is headed. 

“That means we let each other in,” you continue. 

“You’re in, baby.” 

You bite your lower lip.

“I saw something earlier. Drawings of me that you’ve done.” 

“I sketch you all the time.” 

A few seconds pass before you bring yourself to speak again. “Not the sketches. The actual drawings. The detailed ones.” 

Eddie stills as if turned to alabaster. He looks away from you, but you don’t look away from him as silence permeates the air like a slow rising fog. Color rises in his cheeks, then the tips of his ears. If he doesn’t move, maybe he’ll wake up. Maybe he’ll disappear. A few seconds pass like an hour. The world begins turning again when you take his hand in yours, gently brushing over the back with your thumb. 

Reality fades back in slowly. His breaths, your breaths, his thick swallow. 

“They caught me off guard,” you admit. 

Like a severed branch, his hand falls away from yours. His Adam’s apple bobs as he considers what to say in the wake of embarrassment that toes the line of frustration. 

Eddie’s eyes find their way back to yours. “We’re going through each other’s things now?” 

“I was looking for film for your camera,” you explain. “Pictures fell out of the sketchbook, and when I went to put them back—” 

“They don’t mean anything.” His words are void of any conviction. 

You hold his gaze until his shoulders sag with the weight of the truth. “I’ve never had this, alright?” He makes a weak motion between the two of you. “Someone who makes me feel the way you do.” 

You nod for him to continue. 

“I think about you all the fucking time.” His voice comes out shy and gruff. “You’re beautiful.” 

“So they do mean something.”

“But now you probably just think they’re perverted when it’s not like that at all,” he accuses with a slight waver in his voice. You’ve never seen him quite like this. Frazzled in a raw, open way. “It’s the trust aspect—fuck, I’m not making any sense.” 

He runs his hands through his hair and paces a few steps away. You study the tattoos on his torso. Audentes Fortuna Iuvat is scripted just beneath his collarbones with a slight upwards curve; Latin for fortune favors the bold. A symmetrical, abstract pair of angel wings span beneath it. There’s also the small inverted crucifix on his sternum. The snake curled on the right side of his ribcage beneath his pecs. A considerable host of others have made a canvas out of his skin as well.  

“So help me understand,” you insist. 

You’re messing with him now. You have to be. This is his punishment for ever daring to put his pencil to the paper in that way. A few beats of silence pass.

“Are those things you wanna try?” you coax. 

He finally musters the courage to look at you again. “There’s so much I wanna try with you.” There’s a weighted look in his gaze, like the sentiments it bears stretch beyond this moment. “I wanna do life with you.” 

Warmth kindles in your chest at his words. “Well, here I am,” you say. “Gonna have to try harder to scare me away.” 

A humorless laugh escapes him, but it’s true. Here you are. 

“None of this was ever about the fight or the drawings, E,” you start. “It’s about you. I don’t want you to think you have to keep things from me.” 

You nearly fall into the depths of his eyes as they bore into yours. 

“I can’t mess this up too.” His voice comes out smaller than you’ve heard it. He wouldn’t make it to the other side of losing you.  

“It’s gonna take something terrible for that.” You think for a moment. “Like you cutting off all that gorgeous hair.” 

Eddie laughs. The sound coaxes you to your feet and over to him, where he cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours. His breath catches in his throat when he feels your fingertips ghost along his waistline where the towel is secured. 

•••

Just relax. 

Those were the words you’d uttered to him a few short moments ago before you tugged his towel down and stripped yourself of your clothes. If anything, it was more like a purr. Something about that low, melodic tone always worked with him. Even when he was the one desperate to get his mouth and hands on you. He listened because you always handled him with care. Always made it good for him. 

The sound that leaves him now seems broken, but Eddie’s never felt more whole. His arms shake where they’re braced behind him on the bed, and his spread thighs tremble. You look up at him from your kneeling position on the carpet before him without pulling away from mouthing at the warm, velvety weight between his thighs that hang like two joint fruits. They draw up when you pay keen attention to one side, making a suctioning motion with your mouth that makes him curse beneath his breath. 

He curls forward with a pleasured groan when you take the entirety of his length into your mouth. The sweet drag of your lips, paired with the encompassing warmth, makes his head spin. You venture down halfway before drawing back up to suckle on the tip with a glimmer in your eyes. Eddie doesn’t get through his next shudder before your lips are descending again, this time all the way to where curly dark hair rests at his base. 

You can feel every vein and pulse along the way. His stomach quivers at the sight as something hot stirs low in his gut. 

One of his hands settles at the back of your head, but he doesn’t push or pull. It’s a grounding gesture. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you pull back up, taking your time. At the top, you lap over his slit, where another pearly bead has formed. He huffs out a ragged breath when you begin to place lingering kisses over the head, then allow your tongue to gently trace along the slightly raised edge that separates it from the rest of his shaft. 

A selfish part of him wants more. 

“Angel…” he sighs. 

You hum around him curiously when he’s back in your mouth. Eddie knows you’re trying to make him cave and guide you into what he wants. His fingers twitch with hesitance at first, but then he applies just enough pressure to encourage you back down. You’re gracious enough to fall into your own bobbing rhythm thereafter. 

His breath stutters when one of your hands dip between your thighs to begin rubbing easy circles over your bud as your mouth continues to work him like a dream. You clench around nothing as warmth and pleasure pool between your thighs. 

“That’s so hot,” he grouses. 

You pull off of him, saliva slinking between your lips and his arousal. “Is it?” you murmur coyly. 

He nods earnestly, eyes dark and cheeks flushed. What he’s not expecting is for you to sit back on your knees and redirect all your attention to yourself, bringing one hand up to cup your breast. Your cheeks warm at your own boldness. He’d seen you like this in his mind and on the page, but only you could bring the vision to life. There’s a pleasant rush to that sort of power. 

He kicks up towards his stomach when you release an airy hum as your middle finger drifts down to run along your entrance and collect the thick moisture gathered there. He scoots closer to the nightstand and grabs a condom from the drawer. Eddie strokes himself a few careful times, stopping before the tide can rise. You watch with shining eyes as he rips the foil open and slides the rubber down himself. 

“C’mere,” he rasps, repositioning fully onto the bed. “Wanna make you feel good.” 

You bite your lip as you gently probe your entrance, maintaining eye contact even as your face burns. “Think you do it better?” 

“You already know the answer.” There’s no overt cockiness in his tone. Just a steady sort of confidence that makes your stomach flutter. 

An invisible flip switches. No doubt, because he finally feels as though it’s allowed to. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment, but you feel the aftermath. It’s in the way he becomes firmer; he isn’t rough, but you can feel the strength behind his movements more than you usually do. It’s also in the way he lifts his head from your center when you’re mere seconds away from falling into thralls of something your entire body craves. 

You plead with your eyes as you meet his gaze, frustrated and desperate all the same. His lips upturn in a small smile that’s barely there. Your thighs fall open as he leans back down, and the fan of his breath makes you shiver. His mouth and fingers have already made you slick with arousal, only to leave you right on the edge. 

“Eddie, please.”

He gently parts you open and presses a gentle kiss to your clit before suckling it into his mouth. You whimper and cant your hips upwards into his face, but he moves away. 

“Easy,” he coos. 

You breathe an apology as he presses his middle finger to your swollen bud and circles it nice and slow. A whimper escapes you as you squirm, trying your best to keep your hips down. As maddening as it is, you like this little game. The challenge. If he maintains this same pressure and speeds up just so, you know it’d be enough to get you there. He knows that too. 

Everything hinges on his call. Eddie’s been at the helm even though he let you think you were for a time.

“Who does it better?” he asks. 

Your stomach flips. “You, Eddie—c’mon.” You huff an exasperated chuckle in spite of yourself. Eddie bites back a smile. Then your voice dips into a tone that’s impossibly sweet. It reminds him just how much he burns with desire himself. “Keep showing me how much better.” 

Eddie braces himself overtop of you and notches at your slick warmth. It takes a moment for him to gather himself, but when he does, he slips into you with ease. Each inch is welcomed with the same steady pressure, all the way until he’s buried entirely. 

While you hum at the fullness, he moans from being welcomed in so wholly. Even though you’re the one stretched to accommodate him, it’s him who needs a moment to get acclimated. It feels like he’s seconds away from falling apart, and he sure as hell isn’t ready to test the theory. 

When you circle your hips in a silent encouragement for him to move, he stills you with a steady hand. You make another attempt.  

“Angel, wait,” he weakly complains. It’s half desperate, half amused. 

“But I need you,” you murmur. 

That’s enough to spur him into an easy rhythm. Your mouth falls open, and he can’t help but run his thumb over your bottom lip. You surprise yourself when you poke your tongue out. Eddie takes a leap of faith and pushes it just past your lips. You close your mouth around it and give it a weak suck before he pulls it back out. 

As it turns out, life imitates art too.  

“You feel so good,” Eddie pants. “Taking me so well, aren’t you?” 

“Mhmm.”

His thrusts reach deeper when you hook your legs around him, eyes briefly scrunching closed as he meets that tender spot within you that threatens to make everything wound tight inside of you unravel. 

Your hands move to scratch down his back, and his hips stutter at the steady pressure of your nails. So you do it again, a little harder, and it sends a strong shiver through him that feels unfairly good. When your hands smooth back around to his chest, fingers grazing his nipples, he manages to gather your wrists in his hands and pin them above your head. Your chest pushes into his.  

“I’m close,” you breathe. “So full.” 

A groan rises in his throat. “Not until I say, alright?” 

Your whine borders on petulant, but you nod anyway. Eddie kisses you for it. First, on your lips, then he trails a few more sloppy, lazy kisses down your chin. When he pulls away, he lets go of your wrists and braces that forearm beside your head, breaths heavy. He’s so close, you can see the faint sun freckles dotted over the bridge of his nose. The grind of his pelvis against your clit makes you clench around him. 

Your breath hitches. “I’m gonna—”

“Not yet, angel,” he says, even as he lowers a hand between your bodies to rub that pulsing part of you with just the right amount of pressure as he continues his deep thrusts. It’s the furthest thing from fair, and he knows it.  

Your mind grows fuzzy with a sudden swell of pleasure that borders on panic. “Eddie, baby, I can’t,” you whimper. “You’re gonna make me come. Please—” 

“Go on, angel,” he soothes. The wave crashes. “That’s it, there you go.”

You close your mouth to stifle the helpless sound that rises up your throat as you arch beneath him. Immediately, you’re thrown into a suspended place where all you can feel is yourself fluttering around him in strong pulses as warmth floods your entire being, pulling him in. He guides you through it with gentle praises that barely register to your ears. 

With a guttural sound Eddie buries himself within your warmth and lets go, his abdomen flexing with each wave that shoots through him. As the radiating pleasure dwindles, he touches his forehead to yours, and your lips just barely brush as you catch your breaths. You raise your hands to his neck to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. He shivers, then jolts with sensitivity as you shift beneath him.  

“Sorry,” you whisper. 

Eddie shakes his head. “You’re fine,” he breathes. “You’re perfect. Don’t deserve you.” 

“You’re gonna give me a complex,” you murmur. 

Eddie chuckles and grasps the base of himself to slowly pull out. The loss draws shuddering exhales out of both of you. He’s overcome by a surge of fondness and gratitude. 

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod as he dots a few kisses to your neck. “Hey, Eddie.” You cup his cheek to get his attention and he nearly melts at the content way you look up at him with slow, sleepy blinks. “Maybe next time you can tie me up.” A small smile plays on your lips, but you mean it. Even though the thought alone gives you wild butterflies. 

Eddie’s swallow doesn’t let on how dizzy the thought makes him. “Yeah?” 

You offer a tired hum. “I trust you.” That alone means everything. 

And with him, you wanted it all. 

-

Thanks for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all!

EDDIE MASTERLIST 

ALL MASTERLISTS

[cowboybeepboop]

Delight

"Fuck, you’re so beautiful… My pretty baby."

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Reynolds x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: Pampering Bob turns into much more. 

a/n: As always, send me any requests you might have!! I love writing them, also, if anyone would like to be tagged in anymore of my Bob/Lewis Pullman fics let me know!!

For the past 14 months you've been acting as sort of Bucky's assistant, helping him to keep track of the new avengers and keep Bob company when the team goes out for missions/training. This being one of the days where just you and Bob occupy the tower.

When the rest of the team has left for training or other missions, the tower always feels a bit different. There's a certain tranquility, but there's also an underlying sense of loneliness that lingers in the air. And that's exactly how it feels today.

Bob, who spent most of the morning in his room meditating, walks downstairs to the main area, rubbing his tired eyes. He notices you sitting on the couch, and for a moment, there's a shyness in his gaze that betrays his otherwise soft-spoken nature.

"Good morning, Bob!" you greet him with a friendly yet sleepy smile. Bob gives you a small smile back, the tiredness in his eyes still evident.

"Mornin'... you’re up early," he replies in his soft, slightly timid voice. He walks over to the couch and sits down next to you. It's clear he's a little disheveled, his hair sticking up in odd directions and his clothes slightly rumpled.

"Bucky woke me up when they left," you groan, stretching your arms in front of you slightly. "He's so loud." Bob chuckles lightly, nodding his head in understanding.

"Yeah, he can be a bit... enthusiastic first thing in the morning," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. He then looks at you, his eyes still tired but a little bit of curiosity now in them. "And how about you? Did you sleep well?" he asks, tilting his head slightly, the gesture almost making him look puppy-like.

"I could've used some more sleep but that's okay," you turn to face him, a mischievous smile on your face. "Hey Bob, I've got an idea.." Bob raises one eyebrow, a little glint of intrigue in his eyes. 

"An idea, huh?" he says, his voice still soft and somewhat timid. "What kind of idea? Should I be worried?" He gives you a half smile, clearly curious but also a bit nervous at the same time.

"Oh most definitely!" your grin only grows, "Stay right here, I'll be back in a second." you pat his shoulder before scurrying off to your room. Bob watches you go with a mixture of confusion and amusement in his eyes. He stays seated on the couch, his tired gaze fixed on the spot where you disappeared. Quickly you grab things you can use to pamper the man; face masks, razors, tweezers, etc. 

When you return with your supply of 'pampering' items, Bob raises both eyebrows, a hint of surprise in his expression. "What's all this for?" he asks, eyeing the items you've laid out in front of him. There's a touch of apprehension in his voice, as if he's both curious and a bit wary of what you've got planned.

"I'm gonna pamper you today," you grab the fluffy headband and slip it over his head, brushing his hair back and revealing his handsome face. "Just trust me and relax," Bob's eyes widen slightly as you slip the headband onto his head, and he looks a bit taken aback by your sudden desire to pamper him. 

"Pamper... me?" he says, the word sounding a bit foreign on his tongue. There's a mix of uncertainty and curiosity in his expression, but he trusts you enough to go along with it. "Alright..." he says softly, attempting to relax his tensed shoulders, "I'll try to relax. Just... don't go full makeover on me, okay?"

"You're too pretty for makeup, Bob," you giggle, slowly putting a mask on his face, fixing it to fit his features.  "Now we'll let this sit for the next 15 minutes," you slip one on your face to match, relaxing back into the couch as you flip through movie options on the tv.

Bob looks a bit self-conscious when you compliment his looks, a hint of a shy smile playing at the corner of his lips. He tentatively touches the mask on his face, feeling its unfamiliar coolness against his skin.

"So, what kind of movies are we looking at here?" he asks softly, his eyes darting to the Tv and then back to you.

"Lets see..." you murmur, spending all of the 15 minutes trying to find a movie with Bob. "Okay, is this one alright?" After a long and arduous browsing session, you finally settle on a movie. Bob leans back on the couch, making himself comfortable, his mask still on his face.

"Yeah, that one looks fine," he replies softly. There's a hint of excitement in his eyes, a break in his usual tired expression. 

As the movie begins to play, he looks over at you, his gaze betraying a mix of gratitude and a hint of unease. "Thanks for... this," he says, gesturing to the mask on his face.

"Thanks for letting me do it," once both of your masks are off to the side you begin to mess with his eyebrows. "This is gonna hurt a little bit," you tweeze a couple hairs earning a small hiss from Bob. 

Bob winces a bit as you start to work on his eyebrows. He's not used to physical pampering, but he can't deny the fact that it feels kinda nice.

"Okay, ow, ow, ow," he mutters softly, flinching a little with each pluck of a hair. Despite the pain, he tries to keep still, a mixture of discomfort and resignation on his face. After a few moments of tweezing, he lets out a soft sigh. "Are you almost done?"

"Just a few more minutes.." you murmur, moving to straddle him, your ass softly resting against his thighs as you continue focusing on his face. 

At first, Bob's eyes widen in surprise when you straddle his thighs, clearly not expecting the sudden proximity. A hint of pink appears on his cheeks, and he gazes up at you, his expression a mixture of flustered and confused.

"Uh... okay," he mutters softly, trying to keep his composure even as his heart rate quickens just a bit. Bob takes a deep breath and tries to focus on anything but the way your body feels on his, the close proximity making him slightly flustered.

Bob's breath hitches slightly as your hand grips his cheek, turning his face from side to side. He's clearly unused to being handled so gently, and the closeness of your face to his sends a shiver down his spine.

"Um... uh.." he stutters, words failing him as his gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips. The contact between your body and his, the way you so confidently invade his personal space, it's both unsettling and exciting to him.

"Is something wrong?" you shift slightly on his lap, looking at him concerned. Your hand gently caresses his face. Bob's heart races at your gentle touch, his pale cheeks flushing a pinkish hue. He looks up at you, the closeness of your face bringing a mixture of tension and vulnerability in his expression.

"No... nothing's wrong," he mutters softly, his tone betraying a hint of nervousness. He's clearly overwhelmed by your proximity, the feeling of your body on his lap, the way your hand gently caresses his face. His eyes dart to your lips, then back to your eyes, and he swallows hard.

As you shift on his lap, Bob's hands instinctively find their way to your waist, gently gripping it as if to steady you. His touch is tentative, almost reverent, as if he's touching something precious and fragile.

Heat pools in your stomach as Bob holds onto you, your hips mindlessly moving down on his ever so slightly before you catch yourself in the act. "Oh, uh, sorry I'm slightly restless." you try to awkwardly brush it off.

Bob doesn't miss the way your hips move down on his ever so slightly, his grip on your waist involuntarily tightening a bit in response. The action sends a jolt through his body, and he swallows hard, his gaze fixed on you.

"It's... it's alright," he mutters softly, his voice slightly huskier than usual. He tries to hide the effect your closeness has on him, but there's a hint of desire in his eyes that betrays his composure.

Bob's eyes darted to yours, searching for any signs of objection, his own eyes filled with a tentative hunger. He starts to grind his hips upward, almost sneakily at first, as if testing the waters. His erection grows with each subtle movement, pressing against you through his sweatpants. His breathing becomes shallower, his hands on your waist guiding you in a rhythm that matches his own. 

The atmosphere in the room changes, growing thick with unspoken desire.

Your head falls onto his shoulder, your breath hot against his neck, small gentle moans leaving your parted lips. “Fuck, Bob.” You quickly stand up, taking a few steadying breath as your set your stuff onto the table. 

Bob's eyes widen at your sudden decision to stand, disappointment and confusion clear on his face. "Wait, what's wrong?" he asks, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity. 

He's still a bit flustered, his cheeks flushed and his arousal clearly visible through his sweatpants, but he's more confused by your sudden change in demeanor. He reaches out to grab your wrist, his touch tentative, "What are you doing?"

“I’m just cleaning up a bit,” you slide out of your shorts and underwear, biting your lip as you move back between his legs, fumbling with the waistband of his pants. 

You take a deep breath, your eyes darkened with lust, and lean down to kiss Bob deeply. His hands move from your waist to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him. He kisses you back with a passion that surprises you, his tongue exploring your mouth eagerly. 

You feel his hands begin to slide down your thighs, urging you to straddle him once more. You oblige, settling over his lap, aligning your body with his. He pulls your shirt over your head, exposing your whole body to the chill air. 

With a grind of your hips, you feel the head of his cock nudge against your entrance, still covered by the fabric of his pants. The anticipation is agonizingly delicious. Bob's hands move to the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them down just enough to free his erection.

You sink back down onto his lap, the tip of his cock teasing your wetness. He groans into your mouth as you take him in, inch by inch, feeling him stretch and fill you completely. Your hands grip his shoulders tightly as you adjust to the feeling of his length inside you.

With a needy whine, you rock your hips back and forth, savoring the feeling of him stretching you open. Bob's grip tightens on your ass, guiding your movements as he thrusts up to meet you, his eyes never leaving yours. 

The sound of your skin slapping against his fills the air, along with your increasingly desperate moans. You lean back, placing your hands on the couch cushions for support, and grind down on him, taking his entire length with a shuddering gasp. 

The new angle hits your g-spot, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. Bob's eyes glaze over as he watches your breasts bounce with each movement, and he can't help but reach up to fondle them, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. 

His hips buck upwards, driving into you with a fervor that matches your own, your wetness making each stroke smoother, each thrust more urgent. With a surprising surge of strength, Bob stands up with you still impaled on his cock, his arms wrapping around your waist to support you. 

He carries you over to the nearby armchair and gently lowers you down into it, your legs draping over the sides. He positions himself in front of you, his muscular frame towering above as he takes over the pace of your lovemaking. 

Your eyes widen in a mix of awe and arousal at the display of his power, feeling utterly dominated yet cherished in his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him closer as he begins to thrust into you with a gentle yet firm force. 

Bob's movements are calculated, each one hitting the perfect spot within you, as if he's reading your body like a map of pleasure. You lean back, arching your neck, and he takes the opportunity to kiss and suck along the delicate skin, leaving a trail of love bites in his wake. 

Your nails dig into his back, leaving faint marks as you scratch him in your passion. The sensation sends a thrill through his body, spurring him on as he continues to fuck you with increasing vigor.

The sound of your moans and the wet slap of your bodies echo in the quiet room, the intensity of your connection growing with each passing second. You take one of his hands and bring it to your mouth, sucking on his fingers before tracing them down to your clit, guiding him to give it the attention it craves. 

His touch sends waves of pleasure through you, and you feel your orgasm building, threatening to overtake you at any moment. Bob's eyes never leave yours, watching every expression of ecstasy that flits across your face. He adjusts his angle slightly, and you gasp as he hits that spot again and again. 

Your breath comes in pants and gasps, your eyes glazed with lust. His own need is palpable, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. But he's determined to bring you to the edge first, to hear you scream his name in pleasure. 

As you ride the wave of your climax, you can't help but bite down on his neck, leaving your own mark on his skin. His groans of pleasure only serve to push you higher, your body clenching around him as you come. 

The sensation of your tightening pussy is too much for Bob to handle, and with a final, powerful thrust, he joins you in release, his hot cum filling you up as he spills over the edge. For a moment, the two of you stay like that, panting and trembling in the aftermath of your shared passion, before he gently pulls out and sits down beside you. 

You lean into him, your bodies sticky with sweat, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close.  Bob's heart is racing and his breathing is ragged as he holds you close to his chest. He's completely dazed by the intensity of what just happened, the room still filled with the evidence of their passion. 

He gently brushes some sweaty strands of hair out of your face, his touch now tender and loving, a stark contrast to the heated passion of moments ago. "Fuck, you’re so beautiful… My pretty baby." he whispers, his voice a soft, reverent tone.

[mono-dot-jpeg]

big sister - hyun ju

summary; a big sister will always protect, but when will she be able to relax?

genre/extra tags; one shot, found family, fluff, hurt/comfort?, canon typical violence, i dont like the second season writing, but i can not deny myself this diva, that's mother !!, teen! reader, hyun ju is the only reason i decided to watch this season, slight canon divergence bc i have the mind of a goldfish, canon typical sad heavy conversations, big sister is written to be seen as the korean honorific "unnie", older sister moments written in the point of view of a younger sibling, unintentional love letter for my appreciation to my sister, reader is implied to be some form of lgbt but not out (im projecting)

[platonic] [gender-neutral reader]

[warning; mentions of transphobic ideas]

a/n; before people ask, no, im not doing requests for this show. i just don't feel fully comfortable writing for squid game. i just really wanted to write this because, believe it or not, i write for my enjoyment. even i do switch off here every few months or every other month.

dinner had rolled around after an intense "game" of life or death. how you managed to survive this long is beyond you. but you might have a strong idea of why you're living so long, and it was the strong woman who was sitting beside you with some of the other women who were surviving so far.

the old lady had pointed out that hyun ju was not like other people. and it really was odd to her. but hyun ju was used to that. more than used to it. she lived through it since she decided to come out.

you listen to the conversation, not really putting your two cents in as it seemed like there was no right time to butt in. but as the conversation continued, the mood was just a little lighter. and that was more than enough morale. the old lady seemed to slowly understand hyun ju and her struggle.

you've zoned out so much, you almost fail to notice hyun ju sneaking an egg onto your shabby given lunch box meal. you look up at her as she gives you a warm look before pretending that she didn't just do that.

you mix the rice with not much thought, spilling some bits of rice and egg over its metal container before you slowly eat. unbeknownst to you, hyun ju glances back at you as if to make sure you're actually eating and not staring off with a tired look that no teen or child should have. you've seen everything, you're part of this sick game, she may not know your story, but she knows you don't deserve any of the bad you've been through.

you're the youngest in the entire room, a room filled with people with insurmountable debt and issues. hyun ju can only imagine your worry, your anxiety, the burden.

when the first game got serious, you were trying your damned hardest to keep your fear contained under the watchful eye of that robot scanning every movement. she was right in front of you, keeping you safe along with the rest of the people who lined up with her. you look like you wanted to cry the moment you got to the finish line. if she wasn't full of adrenaline at the time, she probably would've heard how hard your heart was beating.

somehow, she had taken two people under her care. you and young-mi. how could she not care about a young woman like young-mi and a teen like yourself? two anxious people forced to live a life full of debt and pain when you both deserved nothing but comfort and love.

people start lining up in their beds for nighttime. gi-hun was very insistent on being careful at night. it was dangerous. some people were not behind just killing others at night to sweeten the pot of money that loomed over everyone's head like a golden sun.

as most of the adults started to climb in their beds, you stand awkwardly. you weren't a stranger to sleeping a room full of people, but you were definitely a little paranoid after what gi-hun was talking about.

you find yourself naturally gravitating to hyun ju. her presence was just so calming, and she was so caring for others. it was hard not to get attached. young-mi had taken to calling her big sister. and you found yourself doing the same when you call out to her softly.

"big sister?" you gently tap at her arm as she turns to look at you. she silently urges you to continue speaking with a gentle look. you can see the tired in her eyes, but she looks at you, unwilling to say no. "this is embarrassing..." you mutter.

"it's okay. i'm here." she reassures you.

"can i stay with you tonight? i'm-" you choke a little bit on your words, not only out of embarrassment but fear. "i'm really scared. i don't wanna be alone." you confess.

she softens, "i would love to let you, but it's too risky. if people come for us, it would be very hard to fight back. i'm so sorry, kid." she opens her arm out for a hug, and you take the comfort you can get in this shitty place. "i will do my best to keep you safe, alright? when we get out of here, i'm going to find you again, and we can help each other, yeah? i'll protect you."

you nodded with her words, not finding the heart to say anything. she takes this as a sign to start guiding you into your bunk bed on top. at least the top bunks would be somewhat safer for you. you hesitantly climb into bed. "if a fight breaks out, hide. run. just be safe. i will find you, and you'll be safe." she continues to reassure you the best she can.

"okay. goodnight big sister." you whispered. "please be safe."

"i will." she said with a calm confidence that only she could pull off that didn't make you feel worried for her.

you hope that you get out of here, so you don't have to see the worried exhaustion in her eyes anymore.

she was a big sister by heart and soul. you just hoped her big heart wouldn't lead her to her doom. she protects and gives, but when will she relax?

[cathnospam]

Adding onto this drabble of how Bakugo likes to stare at you, but with a bit a smutty..

CW: Bakugo is a pervert trynna fight it, Some fluff, Smut implied at end, Reader IS a pervert, Black Reader slightly Implied???

Bakugo has a bad staring problem.

He had a feeling you knew he knew that he would do more than just glance at you which is why you decided to sit next to him up until you all graduated high school and attended college.

Since UA made a new section of the school that is for the college students only the classrooms are different, no more desk but rows of seats, and means sitting even closer. Bakugo didn’t know if he should be pissed off or more excited.

Yes he sits closer, but now his staring would be evident. Turning almost a whole 180 just to get a good look of your side profile. And the thought of you catching him or anything saying about it makes him want to smack the shit out of Deku or Kami.

“Wanna study?”

Your voice was something else. So feminine and soft he practically tries to savor each sweet vowel ….as corny as it sounds….though he has overheard you speak negatively about it a few times. If he had a right mind he’d let you know how much serotonin your voice carries.

“Your grades that bad?”

“No, I aced the last exam with a 98%.”

Bakugo only got 95.

He tsks adjusting himself uncomfortably to get a better look at you. Of course you’re also smart to pair.

The study dates turned into a common practice, but instead of studying it’s be a movie marathon or going to eat some food together at a nearby restaurant.

And his eyes never cracked away from you.

Bakugo would watch you as you spoke, laughed, ate, even stared when you were just doing absolutely nothing, but tapping away on your phone.

He just does not know why he can’t stop, but he doesn’t care and you seem to not care much either.

By the third year before graduation you began to take note of him always looking at you. At some point you wanted to confirm your suspicions so you’d angle yourself a little more his direction to see him from your peripheral vision, and alas you were right. He always looks at you.

He starts from your legs, stops and admires your thighs, to your chest and lands his gaze on your face. You’ve became accustomed to it so much whenever you wear your braids, or locs, or whichever new hairstyle that week parted it’s be on the opposite side so he can still see your face.

It wasn’t weird though, his eyebrows were furrowed, but he looked so cute and relaxed. Plus, it didn’t hurt since..he was your little crush.

It has been 4 months now and Bakugo practically lives in your dorm. His spare clothes are in your drawers, his winter hero costume is beside yours in your closet, he even has some of his hygiene products in your bathroom when he spends the night.

It’s been a routine now; class together, after school lunch together, spar separately or hang out with friends separately but Bakugo comes to your room to take a shower and bring you both dinner.

This time though Bakugo came back from his work study a little later, which you didn’t mind, but you decided to order some dinner, your favorite and his and head to take a quick shower.

Bakugo actually had to catch himself from grinning at your text. He felt more motivated to finish his job quicker today and head back to you.

He missed you without realizing it.

After eating, you finally got up from mindlessly scrolling on tiktok and grabbing the takeout from the front , to take your shower. The hot water feels so nice on your body you forgot all your worries of today and Bakugo was just coming back to the dorms.

He unlocks your door with the spare key you gave him and hears the water running, he sees your phone unlocked in your bed with some video replaying on tiktok and he scoffs. Of course you’re just NOW getting in the shower. He wanted to take one.

Bakugo places his gauntlet and strips his uniform down to just his tank top and boxers on your semi filled hamper and wait. He did not feel like heading to the other side of the building to take a shower and head back. Too tired.

While eating the food you got him he finds the receipt you tossed and crumbled in the trash, and scoffs, “why does she do this..” he mumbled as he pulls out his phone to Apple Pay you back the difference, he doesn’t usually let your pay for anything when you’re with him even if you offer so it was practically second nature to him.

Laying back on your bed with a towel he starts up a show as he waits for you, and while looking at the TV he notices your bathroom door beside it opened.

Without thought he tilts his head almost like a confused dog to get a better view of the noises you’re making inside. Mindless humming, singing, and soft moans whenever you let the hot water touch the sensitive areas of your skin.

You sounded…so attractive.

He wasn’t sure if you knew he was back yet, he made enough noises and comments to himself loud enough, but you didn’t respond back. You didn’t even hear the TV playing. Were you really that careless?

Thank God your door was locked.

He kept quiet for a moment, muting the TV and ate in silence to hear the ambiance of your shower. Bakugo wasn’t really thinking at this point.

“K-Kats ~”

If Bakugo had dog ears one would be up right about now, he gets up and walks over to the doors. No way he heard you moan—-

“Katsuki~”

His name.

He had heard HIS name moan out of YOUR mouth.

It spilled out of your lips like honey, the soft heavy breaths, if he focused his hearing he could have heard your squelches your sex was spewing out from you little fingers.

Bakugo knew. He knew better. He always had pride he wasn’t a pervert like his friends.

Kaminari admitting he steals Jirou’s panties

Kiri sometimes watches Mina get dressed when he’s in her room

Even Sero sending pervy pictures to his long distance girlfriend at random hours of the day

Bakugo was BETTER than them, because he never did anything perverted with you.

But

He’s still a man at the end of the day.

“Katsuki…ah…”He slowly rises from the bed.

And he still has needs.

“Kats….”He peaks his head at the creaked bathroom door.

And he still had a staring problem.

[postracehair]

fracture

max verstappen x reader | 3.5k

max breaks his wrist during the first week of the off-season.

cw: max breaks his arm, r is a bit rattled, some blood, a naked shower, intimacy, mentions of sex

a/n: c'mon. you know he'd be so annoying. good thing we love him. [i wrote this before the season ended and then...never posted it. so, here, have it before we start all this shit over again in a few weeks.]

__

You are not there when it happens.

You're asleep, actually, curled up on Max's couch with the cats while he enjoys the first week of the off-season. The celebrations have ended and there is a great deal of work to be done in the next few months, but everyone gets a little bit of respite.

Vacation will come after the holidays. That's the plan, anyway. The last few days have seen you in Monaco, mostly inside Max's place. Just spending time together, relaxing, watching movies, rumpling his sheets. Today, though, he and Danny decided to go on a world-class-athlete-level bike ride.

Which is why you're on the couch. They've been gone all day and you don't expect Max to get home until later. You ran errands, cleaned a little, and then took an afternoon nap.

As you rouse from it, you fumble for your phone to check the time. The screen lights up and you're greeted with --

35 texts. 4 missed calls.

"What the hell?" you mutter, sitting up and opening everything.

DR: sorry for the three calls don't freak out but i think max broke his arm

DR: he says you're probably napping but i'm going to document this for when you wake up

DR: he's fine but yeah that shit is fucked

DR: he says not to tell you he fell off his bike but he fell off his bike

DR: he braked for some animal in the road and went over his handlebars

DR: oh he also scraped his face but he's still pretty, don't worry

DR: his palms are fucked though which is why he's not texting you

DR: we're on the way to the hospital, btw

DR: you're gonna be so pissed when you wake up

It goes on like that. Daniel, to his credit, has given you a play-by-play of the whole situation. You've only been asleep for about an hour and based on the time stamps this started right after you fell asleep.

You get up as you read, grabbing your things and trying to find your shoes as you read. You need to -- you need to go and be wherever they are. You need to help. Heart racing, chest tight, you need to be near Max as soon as possible, even though Danny said he's okay. If this was you, Max would already be there. God, why did you take a nap?

According to the texts, they got to the hospital and he was seen immedietly, x-rayed, and bandaged up. Broken right wrist, Danny had said. He's pissed more than anything.

You're about to call him back when your phone rings in your hands.

"Danny," you say as soon as you accept it.

"Oh, thank fuck," Daniel exclaims. "I thought I was going to have to surprise you in person with the whole thing."

"I'm about to leave, just give me 15 minutes to get there--"

"No, no, no," he interrupts you. "He just got discharged. I'm bringing him home."

You stop in your tracks, one foot shoved halfway into your sneaker. "Really?"

"Yeah, we'll be there in like, 20 minutes?" You can hear Max saying something in the background. "He wants to talk to you," Danny sighs. "Mate, you'll see her soon--"

He's cut off and there's some muffled noises and then Max is saying your name.

"I'm fine," he says. "I only made him tell you so it wasn't a surprise when I came home."

"Max," you sigh, shoulders creeping away from your ears at the sound of his voice. "I'm so sorry, I was asleep!"

He laughs. You feel a bit weepy, which is both an overreaction and cathartic. "Good," he says. "The whole experience has been a pain in the ass."

"You're coming home now? Are you in pain?"

"Eh," he says, dragging out the sound. "They gave me something while they set it so I don't feel it much. Daniel says we'll be home soon. Oh, hold on --" There is some muttering, Danny's voice in the background. "Okay, I'm going to give you back. See you soon, liefje."

"Okay," you say softly.

"Be there in a flash!" Danny says brightly. "Seriously, don't worry."

You hang up and just stand in the hallway, at a loss. Something bad happened to Max and you weren't there. It feels wrong. Not that he's in poor hands with Danny -- quite the opposite. He's probably the only person aside from yourself that you'd want there for Max in a crisis. But, god. You wish you had been there.

The cats weave around your ankles as you pace, waiting for Danny to call or for the door to open or, anything at all to happen. Your mind is running a million miles a minute. Objectively, it's the best time for Max to break something. There isn't even a car for him to test right now and he had at least another week of time off before needing to go back to Milton Keynes. This might throw a wrench in your holiday plans but you couldn't care less about that. How long will he be in a cast? You assume he's in a cast. What kind of help will he need? Will you be enough to provide it? What if he --

Noises in the hall make you freeze and then you hear Danny's voice. You bolt to the door, unlatching the locks and pulling it open. You're greeted with the sight of the two of them -- Danny looking down at Max's keys in his hands, both of their backpacks on his back. They've both changed out of whatever ridiculous bike outfit they must have been wearing for the ride, but you devote your attention to your boyfriend.

You can see the bandages on Max's knees and forearms where he must have scraped himself up on the road. His wrist -- it's in a black cast that runs the length of his forearm. He cradles it to his chest in a sling they must have given him and then you make your way to his face. A few scratches along one cheek, hair a mess, mouth drawn into a frown. A frown that relaxes slightly when you meet his gaze. Your eyes well with tears.

"Max," you breathe. He steps in front of Danny and meets you in the doorway, his cast-free hand cupping your face through the bandages on his palm.

"I'm fine," he says. "You're looking at me like I'm in a coma."

"Sorry," you whisper. "I just --"

He tugs you to him gently, pressing your face into his neck and rubbing your back. You try to be careful of his arm as you breathe deep and will yourself not to actually lose it.

"Guys, can we at least go inside?" Danny asks.

Max huffs and you pull away. He drags his thumb under both of your eyes but doesn't comment on the dampness he finds there. "Inside, liefje."

Danny drops Max's stuff and passes along the documents from the hospital. He's quite the personality but he's all business when he needs to be. "Pain killers in his bag. Call me if you need anything, guys."

You step away from Max long enough to throw your arms around Danny. "Thank you," you whisper. "For looking after him." For calling. For bringing him back to me. For doing what I should have been there for.

He chuckles. "Alright," he says. "Max should break something more often."

Once Danny leaves, it's just the two of you. Max has settled on the couch, head leaning back into the cushions.

"Come sit with me," Max calls. "God, I forgot how much I hate hospitals."

His eyes are closed and he holds his arm gingerly. It's not the first time you've seen him injured -- you've been at his side in the medical tent before after watching him careen into a wall at 190mph. And yet, right now, you're still so upset.

You settle into the cushions on his left side and just watch him.

"I'm sorry," you say again. Max's eyes open. "I can't believe I was asleep when Danny called."

Max shakes his head. "What would you have done?"

"I could have come to get you and take you to the hospital, or just met you there, or--"

He puts his hand on your knee. "Come on," he says. "Don't be silly."

How do you explain it to him? How do you tell him that something happening to him feels like it happened to you? That not being there feels like a personal failing?

"Will you tell me what happened?"

He sighs and you pull his palm from your leg to hold it in your hands.

"It's stupid," he grimaces. "You don't need the details."

"Max."

He folds. Other people in his life have called this your superpower -- Max's will is iron clad. It is very difficult to get him to do something he does not want to do. But one word from you, one soft look, one gentle touch, and he often relents. It's like you can peel back that layer of him that has hardened out of necessity. To protect himself and his heart, to make sure he's taken seriously, to stop things from hurting.

It's like you remind him that it's okay to feel, even when it's hard.

"Daniel summed it up," he grumbles. "We were biking down a hill outside the city and something ran out into the road in front of me. I stopped. Or tried to, at least." He mimes squeezing the breaks, fingers curling in towards his bandaged palms. You stroke his unbroken wrist with your thumb.

"And you went over," you finish.

"And I went over. Got my knees, my forearms, my hands. My wrist, obviously. Just landed badly."

You reach for his face ever so gently, dragging the pad of your thumb over the shallow scrapes on his chin, his cheek. He allows it, knowing that you need to touch him to be sure he's okay. Whenever he has a crash on track you have trouble letting him out of your sight for hours. You just need to look at him, feel him warm and alive under your hands.

"I'm going to write a letter to your helmet manufacturer," you say, not entirely kidding. You slide your hand over his temple and into his hair. It's dirty, you can feel it, but you cradle his skull all the same. "Thank them."

He laughs once, amused with your sincerity. "I need to shower," he says. "But I can't get this wet." You finally direct your attention to his broken wrist, the entirety of his forearm and hand encased in the cast under the sling.

"Does it hurt?" you ask again. Max would tell anyone else off for badgering him so, but he keeps his face soft and reassures you.

"It's strange," he says. "I'm sure I'll feel it later."

"Did it hurt?" you whisper. "When you broke it?"

You know that Max has felt a great deal of pain in his life. His day job requires it -- physical, mental, emotional. He knows how to handle it and get over it. But he's also honest with you, always.

He wrinkles his nose. "It wasn't nice," he confesses. "I knew right away."

You grimace. In the silence, you match your breaths to his and just sit together for a little while.

And then Max's stomach growls.

"Whoops," he says, grinning crookedly. Still an athlete, still a boy with a fast metabolism. You can't help but laugh.

"How about this," you begin, unfolding yourself from the couch and standing in front of him, hands on your hips. Max looks up at you like you're the best thing he's ever seen. "I order some food and then we get you showered while we wait for it. Let the scrapes breathe and keep your cast dry, then we eat and watch a movie and go to bed. Okay?"

"We get me showered?" He sounds skeptical.

"You think you can wash your hair on your own?"

He smirks. "I can do a lot with one hand."

You roll your eyes. "So you're turning down an opportunity to shower with me, is what I'm hearing."

Max gets himself off the couch and rests his palm on your hip. "No," he says softly. "I'm not that stupid."

He kisses you lightly and heads for the bathroom.

"I guess we can wrap it in a plastic bag, or something?" you call after him. It takes a few minutes of opening and closing cabinets for you to find one. You put in a delivery order and make your way to the bathroom. Max has already turned on the shower and you find him shirtless and peeling off his bandages in in front of the mirror.

"Let me do that." He doesn't put up much of a fight, not even wincing when the tape pull at his skin. You see the gashes on his forearm, the raw skin of his palms. "Arm, please." The plastic bag goes around his cast and you tie it at his elbow.

"You planning to wash my hair while wearing your clothes?" Max asks with a straight face.

You stare at him, trying to seem unimpressed. He breaks first, mouth pulling up at one corner before he shucks off his soft shorts and briefs in one go. He pecks you on the cheek and gets in the shower, still smirking at you through the glass door.

"Alright, alright," you mutter. "So dramatic."

You feel Max's eyes on you as you undress, leaving your clothes on a pile on the floor.

The shower is unnecessarily big but Max does not give you much space. The hot spray is at his back and he keeps his plastic bag-clad arm mostly out of the way.

"Feel good?" you ask. Max sighs but nods. You'll bet he's aching but hasn't admitted it. He turns to the side so you can catch some of the spray, too, fighting off the chill outside the warm water.

"I might fall asleep in here," he mutters.

"That'll be the painkillers, darling," you tell him. "C'mon, get your hair wet."

Max tips his head back. You readjust so that you can card your hands through it. You shampoo him gently, taking your time and massaging his scalp. It's a miracle he stays on his feet, but he does. You hum as you work and Max's breaths get deeper, slower.

"Head back," you say softly. He obeys. You do the same with some of your conditioner because you know he likes how it smells.

This shower feels more intimate than the countless hours you've spend in his bed, tangled up in one another. He's been inside you and yet this feels more vulnerable. He's totally ceding control, trusting you to take care of him. You're naked, slick bodies brushing, always touching whether it's your hands in his hair or Max's own fingers reaching for your skin just to feel.

One time, when you were sick, you couldn't muster the energy to take a shower. Max ran you a bath and washed your hair for you, talking all the while because you asked to hear his voice. It's obvious that you'd do the same for him, as you're doing now. It's just how you love each other -- all the way, all the time. When it's easy and when it's hard.

"Danny was right," Max says, words slurring half from bliss and half the fatigue of the day catching up to him. "I should break bones more often."

You finish rinsing him and just stand there in the spray for a few moments.

"Please, no," you groan, brushing wet strands back from his forehead. "If you want me to wash your hair I will, Max. You don't need to break anything."

His eyes flutter open and find yours. He smiles lazily and you turn off the shower.

"If you say so," he says. "Can we take this off, now?"

Bag removed, skin patted dry, comifes on. The food comes when you're settling Max on the couch with a pillow for his arm. In all likelihood he'll manage a few bites of take out and fall asleep 15 minutes into the movie. But he needs the rest, you think. And besides, he'll have you to watch over him.

__

It becomes clear remarkably quickly that Max is an awful patient. You sort of knew this -- he's been sick a few times when you're around, but you figured that was just man-disease. Whining, refusing to sit still. This is 10x worse. He won't let you do anything for him until he's proven that he can't do it himself. You consider locking him in your bedroom to keep him from trying to do things he shouldn't do.

Max just wasn't made to sit still.

But you can empathize -- it's frustrating to not be able to do any of the things he really likes to do. Drive, use his sim, even play regular video games. It's a lot of movies and long walks and leg days with his trainer.

And then there's the way he just won't ask for help. That's a Max Verstappen original and you know it gets worse when he's frustrated. You do it too -- everyone does. But Max wants to do everything himself, wants to prove that he can.

You try to sit back and let him work it out. About a week after he comes home with his arm in a cast, he calls your name. You're in the kitchen, staring into the open fridge and wondering if you should order more groceries or just go to the shops yourself.

"You okay?" you call back. "Where are you?"

"Bathroom,"he shouts.

Ah, you think. Here we go.

He hasn't shaved yet. You've always loved when he keeps his facial hair a little longer. You love the feel of it on your skin and how it lightens along with his hair when you're on holiday somewhere nice. It's more likely that he keep it long in the off-season. Hot races are a nightmare with a beard, he's said. It itches like mad.

"Coming," you call.

Sure enough, you find him in front of the sink, razor in hand and frown firmly in place. He makes eye contact with you in the mirror and even though you can feel his annoyance from here, the set of his jaw softens.

"Do you think you could help me shave?" he asks. No lead up, no hem and haw.

"Of course, Max."

You quickly work out that sitting on the counter next to the sink while he stands between your knees works best. His broken wrist hangs at his side, the other hand resting on the counter next to your leg.

You lather him up, carefully applying the white foam of his shaving cream on his cheeks, his chin, his neck. He's got a fancy razor, one that will probably make it hard to cut him. Still, you feel the way he's basically handed you a blade and asked you to use it on him. In so many ways it's one of the most intimate things you've ever done. Even more than the showers you've had this week, just chatting and washing his hair.

"I'll be careful," you say softly.

"I know." He tilts his chin up, showing you his neck. "Go on, then."

It's quiet work. You're focusing hard and Max seems content to allow you. Stroke after stroke, rinsing the razor in the sink. You keep one hand at the base of this throat as the other works, gliding it over his skin. Cheeks, jaw, upper lip. Chin, neck.

"I like your beard, you know," you say when you're almost done. He waits until you're rinsing the razor again to reply.

"I do," he says, smirking. "You aren't quiet about it."

The last patch comes off as easily as the rest and you grab a damp towel to clean the rest of the shaving cream. Max appears to have relaxed enough to become pliant, leaning into your touch as you finish. He lets you rub moisturizer into his cheeks, eyes fluttering closed. His hand ends up on your leg, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thigh.

"Cheeky," you mutter. He smiles, boyish and easy. You take your time, pleased that he's letting you, but also because you could touch him forever. "Schatje," you whisper, trying to make it sound like it does from his lips. "All done."

Max doesn't move. You frame his face with your hands and lean in until your lips touch. You feel his smile against yours, but he dutifully tilts his head to deepen the kiss. His freshly shaved skin is so soft. You've kissed thousands of times by now, but you can never get enough of him. The way he responds to your every move, meeting your pressure with some of his own. Your tongue with his, swallowing your moans and giving you his own like a gift.

It's Max who pulls away, dragging his lips over your cheek.

"Dankje," he whispers. It means more than that, you know. From Max, it means thank you for dealing with me, for taking care of me, for loving me.

He doesn't think any of that is easy for you. But he's wrong. It's the easiest thing in the world.

[reinevs]

I need more ekko giving head to fem! Reader😫😫 could you include it in an anniversary celebration type of writing? Thank you and lovely regards 💓

écoute chérie 𝑒𝑘𝑘𝑜 𝑎𝑟𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑒

⟢ authors note. tysm for using my asks, hope u enjoy!!

⟢ contains. drinking, semi drunk!ekko, lots of kissing, cunnilingus, fingering, praise, slight degration, orgasm, cum eating, dom!ekko.

it was late, the sun had just gone down and the firelights had lit a bombfire in celebration to another successful mission - or more so the fact that they hadn't lost any members of the firelights during it. As drunk firelights were eating and dancing around the big bomb fire, there was ekko - in the corner drinking from his cup and leaning on his arm, his expression neutral and unreadable. "you just plan to sit here all alone?" a familiar voice asked, making ekko look up into your soft eyes with a tired expression. "oh come on, are you really that tired?" you chuckled, pushing one of his locs out of his face to see him better as he sighed, rolling his big brown eyes.

"should I ask what's bothering you?" you asked softly, a small smirk on your face as you sat down next to him on the picnic table, your elbows resting against the table as you watched the other firelights and the bombfire. "I don't know, I just feel like there's too much to do to be celebrating like this..." he sighs, folding his arms as he turned around, facing the bombfire with his back resting against the table. "you're such a leader." you chuckled, softly looking back over at him. "you know you can relax for just one night right?"

he looked over at you, you felt his eyes look over your body before looking back up to your eyes. "you think I should relax?" He scoffed as you narrowed your eyes at him. "don't scoff at me, I'm worried about you dumbass." you said, playfully shoving his arm as he sighed, "you're right, sorry..." he trailed off, looking back up at you. "wanna get out of here?" he asked, his voice quiet and soft as he looked directly at you. something in your stomach tingled at his direct eye contact, but you didn't let it show too much. "you wanna ditch your own party?" you chuckled a bit, not taking him seriously.

he leaned his head back, some of his hair falling away from his face. "I guess so." he said, a small smirk on his lips as he looked over at you. "I just want a distraction." you bit the inside of your cheek, looking away from him and back at the fire as you were inside your own head. the truth was, you were stressed out too - just because you didn't lose any firelights doesn't mean it wasn't a dangerous and stress provoking mission. you nodded softly, "alright, let's get out of here." you said, looking back over at him, his smirk widening a little bit as he nodding, standing up with you as he led you up the stairs of the treehouse into his room.

as the door shut behind him, he took a sip of his drink, letting out a sigh as you looked over his room. it looked different than you remembered it, more papers and blueprints for firelight gadgets or hoverboard fixes scattered across his work bench and even some hung up on his wall. "you're quite the busy bee." you chuckled, softly running your hands down the papers as you looked them over. he just shrugged, "you haven't been in here in months..." he said softly, his voice getting closer behind you before you felt his hands softly slide down your waist.

you let out a soft, satisfied sigh as you leaned your head back against his shoulder, looking back over at him as his lips connected to your neck, placing small kisses on the sensitive skin. "I guess it's been a little while..." you said softly, tilting your head to the side to give him better access as you felt him smile softly against your skin, his kisses becoming more rough against your neck as he softly bit down on the flesh. you gripped his work bench as he gently pushed his body against the back of yours, his hand gripping your hip and pulling it closer to him as the other rested on your waist. he softly moved some of your hair over as he pulled his head back, admiring the red spots he left on your neck as he rubbed his thumb over them.

you gently looked back at him, watching as he smiled slightly. "I've missed you... I've missed having you like this." he said softly, gently pushing a bit of your hair behind your ear as he leaned into your lips before slowing at the last second. his lips were barely touching yours before you softly leaned in, capturing his lips softly as you brought your hand to his cheek, cupping it in your hand. he smiled into the kiss as he softly pulled you closer by the back of your head, deepening the kiss as he led you towards his bed. the back of your legs hit his bed frame, making you stop as he gently laid you down, hovering over you as he kissed you once more.

"I've missed you too..." you said softly, before kissing him again, his tongue softly pushing into your mouth as you let him. he made out with you a little bit before gently pulling back, taking the hems of his shirt and pulling it over his head, letting it fall to the floor as he softly grabbed your hand and ran your hand down his chest. you looked up at him before your eyes trailed down to his bare chest, you softly reached down to his lower hip, rubbing small circles on his flesh. he smiled down at you before leaning down and kissing on your neck once again, this time the opposite side. "you're so beautiful..." he whispered as you quietly moaned under his touch.

his body leaned down further into yours, he trailed his kisses down from your neck to your collarbone, giving small kisses before gently biting and sucking on the sensitive skin. you leaned your head back, the tingling in your leg and stomach making you squirm slightly under him. he chuckled softly, sliding his thigh between yours as he trailed his hands down, his kisses getting lower and lower on your body.

he trailed down, caressing your bare hips as he placed open mouth kisses on your flesh. he paused at the waistband of your pants, gently rubbing both your hips, "lift." he said lowly, looking up at you softly. you swallowed, nodding as you propped yourself up on your elbows and lifted your hips for him. he softly pulled your pants down, kissing your thighs and down your to your knees before pulling them completely off.

he slid down your panties and tossed them on the floor, leaning down to kiss you, his tongue pushing into your mouth gently. he continued kissing you passionately before softly pulling away and positioning himself between your legs, looking up at you with an intense and lustful gaze. he could feel your legs trembling as he hooked them over his shoulders, his hands gripping your thighs possessively. "shh, relax baby..." he smiled softly, pressing soft kisses on your pussy before dragging his tongue up your slit.

you looked down at him, your chest rising and falling as his tongue traced gentle circles around your clit before he sucked it into his mouth. he kept his eyes locked on yours, his gaze burning with hunger and affection as he devoured you slowly and thoroughly, his fingers gently spreading your lips apart to give him better access. "fuck, just like that..." you moaned softly, balling the sheets in your fist as you looked down at him.

"like this?" he whispered between gentle licks, his fingers trailing up your thighs. "such a pretty sight when you're like this..." he continued his steady pace, savoring every moment, occasionally looking up to watch your expressions. "ekko, please..." you looked down softly, holding back your moans as you bit your inner cheek. you leaned your head back, breathing heavy as your fingers tangled in the silky sheets.

he smiled softly as he saw you bite your inner cheek to hold back your moans, thinking that it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. he hooked your legs over his shoulders, his arms wrapping around your thighs to keep you in place. "look at me," he commanded softly, his tongue delving in and out slowly. you looked down at him, your chest rising and falling as you held his lustful gaze.

he held your gaze, his own eyes burning with desire as he continued to eat you out slowly. "so fucking beautiful," he murmured, his voice muffled by your pussy. "I could look at you like this all day." he pressed a kiss to your clit before looking back up at you. you breathed heavy, a soft tingle in your stomach as he praised you. he slipped his middle finger into your pussy, your wetness making it easy as he curled it to hit that sweet spot inside you. his tongue pressing firmly against your clit and moving in small circular motions.

you swallowed as you looked down at him, your breathing heavy as your stomach tingled more than before, your chest rising and falling with every movement he made. he slipped another finger inside of you, his thumb replacing his tongue in your clit as his pace increased slightly. his fingers moved in and out while his thumb pressed firmly against your clit. "come for me, beautiful," he whispered, his warm breath against your sensitive skin. "show me how much you like it when I finger you like this..."

you tilted her head back, fighting the urge to roll your eyes back as you let out a moan, gripping the sheets tightly as you looked back down to his lustful gaze. "shit ekko, you're gonna make me cum..." she moaned softly. he looked up at you with soft and lustful eyes, mesmerized as your face contorted in pleasure. his fingers curled inside you, hitting that spot over and over until your body finally gave in. "there it is," he murmured, his fingers slowing their pace as he felt your inner walls clench around them.

you bit your lip harshly as your thighs shook and your stomach sunk in, your knuckles turned white as you gripped the sheets, moaning his name as you came.

he smirked as he continued his gentle pace, feeling satisfied and proud at being able to bring you to this state. seeing your knuckles white and lips bitten made his heart race faster. he placed tender kisses on your inner thighs as you rode out your orgasm. "that's right," he whispered, his fingers slowly withdrawing. "shhh..."

you breathed heavy as he pulled his fingers completely out, slipping them into his mouth as he licked them clean, making your stomach flutter as he crawled up to you. he kissed you passionately, his tongue pushing into your mouth as you could taste yourself on him. he kissed you deeper, his hand gently resting on your collarbone and coming up to hold your neck as your tongues slid against each other passionately.

you both parted to catch your breath as he smiled down at you, tilting your chin up to look you in the eyes. "you're so beautiful... your pleasure is my pleasure." he smiled softly, leaning down and kissing you once more as you smiled into the kiss.

Tuesday, December 10th, 2024

N4ViG4TiON! ★ ; taglist ⋆ masterlist

© REINEVS WORKS | TUMBLR

[feedthefeeling]

You’re Such a Good Piggy…

“Okay, that’s it.” I say, as the funnel gurgles empty, leaving your lips, while the remainder of the sweet shake drips out of the hose. I see it drip and land on you, quickly rolling into a deep crease at the top of your swollen belly, disappearing under a massive breast that is resting to the side.

“You did good. You’re such a good piggy.” I tease, lightly rubbing the front of your hugely distended double belly. The crease at your navel, I notice, has gotten wider and deeper as we’ve piled the weight on you. Even as you sit relaxed on your bed, the mass of your fat and full gut weighs heavily on you, pushing you back as it rests on two dimpled trunk like thighs. I notice that your breath is fast and sharp, partly due to my teasing and mostly due to the 3500 calories which are now settling heavily in your stomach, after you greedily funneled it down, with my encouragement.

“Let’s get my big hog on the scale. Can you get up?” You look me in the eyes, still breathing heavily, and sort of roll your eyes and laugh, with a sigh. One thick arm braces to your side, and the other fattened arm rests atop your swollen belly, as you attempt to hop and slide forward, clearly struggling with your newfound massive weight. Your little struggles to get up from the bed now are becoming more pathetic, clearly you are becoming more dependent on me each day. A dark thought crosses my mind as I wonder if you even recognize yourself in there, enveloped in rolls and dimples. You were such a pretty, thin girl when we met. I can’t imagine what all your friends and family say now.

I snap back, offering you a strong hand to aid your heft as you swing your feet from edge of the bed, firmly planting them on your floor. I notice you let out a considerable grunt as we get you to your feet. As you sway your wide hips towards the bathroom, I notice your massive ass has all but swallowed the now tiny panties, the ones I thought were too tight twenty pounds ago.

You waddle heavily and slowly towards the bathroom, still silent but with heavy breathing, now made worse for the tiny amount of physical activity that you’ve been subjected to. As you waddle massively, your ass sways side to side, cut like two huge hams by the taught strings of your underwear. I place a guiding hand on your hip as you slowly waddle through the bathroom doorframe.

I can tell the short trip has exhausted you, and I quickly get down and slide the scale towards you. You step atop it, not even bothering to try to look down to see, as that view was obscured many pounds ago.

I see you take a deep breath, one chubby hand atop the thick part of your upper belly.

“387!” I read aloud, looking up into your round face, seeing that you’re clearly still attempting to catch your breath.

“My big girl is growing.” I say, gently grabbing a handful of your swaying lower belly, lightly jiggling it. I have no doubt you feel massive, just like the fattened pig by which I’ve treated you like over the last several months. “I think we’ll make my goal of 400 in no time. It’s hard to believe you were just 140 pounds just a few years ago.” I hear you exhale a slight gasp, and turn back towards your bed with a slight giggle, by which I hope you agree.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of my big girl.” I say, playfully smacking your wide ass as you turn, thinking to myself that these short trips are only going to get more and more difficult over the next few months…

[muxshwriting]

alone together

Seth Clearwater x reader

summary: your boyfriend doesn't realise his own strength. it doesn't usually bother you until you realise that he's leaving something more permanent with his hugs || warnings: bruises, being loved to death, mentions of insecurity (like one sentence), characters aged up to like 18ish || word count: 921 || masterlist

The moment Seth imprinted on you, he knew the rest of his life would be perfect. He'd heard from the others how amazing it felt to find your imprint but no one truly prepared him for when he first saw you. You'd been friends before he shifted but when he saw you again months after that, when he truly saw you, it was like nothing else in the world.

You spent almost every evening at the Clearwater's, your own parents understanding how much Seth meant to you. He quickly became your everything, your day was never good unless you saw him. And your day was never perfect until you were wrapped up in one of his hugs.

"Better?" His arms wrapped around you until they were pressing into your skin. Sometimes you needed to feel like your body wasn't yours, that you and him were one and the same so that his perfectness might rub off on you.

You hum in response, burrowing further into his neck and relishing in his warmth. The pair of you are sitting on the sofa at his house, simply taking time to be with each together without needing to do anything else. "Just a rough day."

His touch sooths you as his comforting weight around your midsection deepens and calms the feeling crawling through your chest. "You wanna talk about it?" His voice is muffled against you but the concern in it has your heart melting.

"No. It's getting better."

"Happy to help."

Almost a week later you're helping Leah bake some cookies for the pack at her house. Seth's out on patrol with a few of the other boys. You lean against the counter before going back to upright with a hiss of pain.

"You okay?"

Your eyes widen as you turn to Leah. "Yeah. It's fine."

"It doesn't sound fine."

"It's just a bruise."

Leah seems to relax that it's not serious. "Oh. How did you bruise your side? Fell off the bike or what?"

You laugh at her suggestion but don't answer the question.

"How'd you do it?"

"Um... It's from Seth."

"From my brother Seth? Your imprint? My little brother Seth?" Leah's face turned cold as her mind ran to the worst possibility.

"Not on purpose!" You're trying to reassure her but it only makes her more suspicious. "I had a rough day at work and stuff ad I just needed him to hold me. But with his wolf strength I guess he hugs a little too tight. I didn't even notice until a couple days ago."

Leah ran her hands through her hair, pulling at it slightly as she processed what she heard. "Does he know?"

"I don't want him to worry. Or not hug me because of it."

"Show me."

Slowly, you pull up the hem of your shirt, revealing the bruised and inflamed skin of your side and bottom of your ribs.

Leah has a sharp intake of breath as she sees the extent on your injury. "We might need to tell my mom about this."

You pull your shirt back down, gently wrapping your arms around you as if to shield yourself. "It's fine." You dismiss.

"It's really not." Leah argues. "Just let her check."

She's not giving in anytime soo so you concede. "Okay. But I don't think she can do anything about it. She's just gonna tell me to put a heat pack on it, which is why I have Seth."

Seth, at that very moment, comes back from patrol and waltzes in. "What do you have me for?" He presses a kiss to your forehead, wrapping an arm around your waist. It takes everything in you to not hiss as he rests his hand on the bruise as Leah raises an eyebrow at you.

"Don't worry about it." You kiss him back, letting you senses be surrounded by him for a moment before Leah clears her throat.

"It's not nothing. Tell him."

Seth, ever oblivious, asks "Tell me what?"

You sigh, reaching for the hem of your shirt but not lifting it yet. "You know how I had a rough day last week?"

"Yeah..."

"And you hugged me really tight cos I asked you to?"

"Yeah."

"It kinda left a bruise. But it's fine! Leah's making it out to be a much bigger deal than it is and all I need is my personal hot water bottle and it'll be healed in no time." You lift the hem of your shirt to show him and Seth immediately starts fussing.

"Babe, this is a big bruise."

"It doesn't hurt that bad." Just at that moment Seth rests his hand on top and you can't stop the groan you let out. "...Only when I touch it."

"I want my mom to look at it."

"That's what I said!" Leah cried.

The two siblings started talking over one another about the best thing to do, whether they should go right now, whether you should even move or if it's best for you to go to bed. Their voices grew louder than just talking and you felt yourself shrinking back from them.

"I'm sorry."

Seth's mood immediately charges as he cups your face. "You don't need to be sorry for anything, okay? I'm sorry I did this to you."

"I don't want you to be sorry."

"Why don't we just go upstairs and cuddle, yeah? More gently this time."

You nod in response.

"Mom can have a look later. Let's just do nothing."

"Do nothing together?"

"Of course."

[dissociativewriter]

Unnatural Affinity- Part 1

Isekai!Reader x Love and Deepspace

wc: 2.3k

cw: ANGST, depressed reader, allusions to self harm, reader is not MC, reader has a defined personality, I fear you can tell she's a self-insert, eventual contact with all love interests, no guaranteed happy ending

Synopsis: You hadn't been okay mentally. When going to meet your friend for lunch, you suddenly find yourself plunged into the world of Love and Deepspace as a close friend to the main character. Would you be able to find your place in this world not made for you?

author's note: So this is technically based on @ixloom819 ‘s post on affinity levels with an Isekai!Reader, but I made it very angsty and didn’t actually address the affinity levels in this part (we’ll get to it eventually, I swear. Probably in the next part, actually.) Reader has a lot of oddly specific personality bits here and there that are very much just me so uhhh sorry <3 also the song that is consistently referenced is Vienna by Billy Joel (it’s my favorite <3) Also MC is named Em because I saw another creator call her Em Cee so I decided to use that to instead of searching for a new one to use!

Series Masterlist

You rose with a jolt.

You had plans today.

You rolled over, checking the time.

11:30.

Weren’t you supposed to meet at 12:00?

You jumped out of bed, running straight to the bathroom. You would have to forego much of your “get ready” routine if you wanted to be on time. Quickly brushing your teeth, arranging your hair in a way that didn’t look like you just rolled out of bed, throwing on some jeans and a cute top conveniently sitting at the top of your drawer, and you were pretty much ready to go.

You grabbed your tote bag, tossing in your laptop, a journal, your pencil case, an old, heavily annotated copy of Frankenstein you were currently rereading (and trying to ignore your past, somewhat cringy annotations), and a small bag of snacks.

You checked the time again.

11:48.

Not too shabby.

Although getting ready was an easy, albeit rushed task, getting to the cafe you were meeting at on time was an entirely different and much harder issue. Through some stroke of luck, you’d manage to get to the bus station just in time for it to leave. And you found a seat!

Maybe today was going to be a good day. You were certainly due for one, you thought.

You knew why your friend had asked you to meet up, of course. You put your earbuds in, cueing your favorite song.

Slow down, you crazy child. You’re so ambitious for a juvenile. But then, if you’re so smart, then tell me, why are you still so afraid? You let the music wash over you, the soft piano soothing your nerves as you relaxed your shoulders.

She was worried. You didn’t blame her. You hadn’t exactly been the pinnacle of happiness these past few months. Your recent self-imposed isolation probably hadn’t helped with that.

Your hands, resting on your thighs, flexed restlessly. You could almost feel the outline of every single cut you’d made.

No matter what you’d say, no matter how many I’m fine’s you’d muttered, you knew.

That was not what a healthy person did.

You thought of a journal entry you’d written, what seemed so long ago now.

‘I think it is the true human experience to want more than you have. But I don’t think this emptiness is innate in the human experience. The feeling never leaves me, it’s encapsulating. I feel absolutely nothing so completely. I cannot bring myself to care about my passions, my friends, my self.

I don’t think I can handle anything more than the burden that is my existence. My days are filled with distractions and entertainment, and my night are spent mourning lost time. I desperately want something worthwhile, something meaningful. I desperately want an adventure, with romance and risks. How am I supposed to find that in this world?’

It was an entry you’d thought about a lot. A bit melodramatic, sure. You’d probably been reading Sylvia Plath or something before writing it. But there was still truth to it. You told yourself you’d be fine, you’d get better. And the glimmer of hope at the very end of the entry served as a testament to you that it could get better:

‘But then, I guess those distractions were meaningful if they brought me happiness, however temporary. All emotions are temporary, so this should also be. This feeling will leave. And maybe I can have the adventure I dream of, maybe that is the dream of all creatives. Why else would these feelings and this imagination be given to humanity?’

You still didn’t know where these words had come from. It was a blur of existential crises and anxiety attacks and nights spent sobbing. You could understand the logic behind the words, and they’d helped you before. Briefly. But emotion does not bow to logic, and you soon found yourself drowning again.

Slow down, you’re doing fine. You can’t be everything you want to be before your time.

You really couldn’t blame your friend for worrying, you thought as you stepped off the bus. Even though there were glimmers of hope in your otherwise bleak mindset, you knew you needed help on some level. Maybe she could help, maybe she would realize what you were trying to say as the words died in your throat. Maybe she could recognize the storm brewing inside you.

Maybe, for one time in your life, you could feel truly seen.

Now, for the first time since you received that text inviting you out, you were actually looking forward to seeing your friend. What was once dread for an intervention where you’d be forced to dodge your feelings and hide them so as not to be a burden, became excitement as you realized how dearly you had missed your friend.

Isolation was nice for a time, yes. It allowed you to gather your thoughts. But then the thoughts came too fast and too much. Maybe a break from the overwhelming thinking would be nice. Maybe you’d laugh again.

You peeked through the windows of the cafe, and, not spotting your friend, decided to wait outside under the sign.

You sighed, a bit regretful that it’d taken you this long to feel not completely shattered again. You’d lost a lot of time mourning the future you couldn’t have and the past you couldn’t erase, neglecting the present all the while.

Well, it’s time to live in the present, you thought as you shut your eyes, enjoying the cool breeze on your face. It’s time to recognize the beauty of life for what it is.

Maybe happiness wouldn’t be that hard to achieve.

The breeze grew colder, and you let out an involuntary shudder. It was so warm today, you knew the weather was supposed to stay warm, so why was the temperature suddenly dropping?

Your headphones let out a harsh crackle before the sound fizzled out completely. You could still hear the ghost of the lyrics if you listened hard enough.

You’ve got your passion, you’ve got your pride. But don’t you know that only fools are satisfi—

“There you are!” You cracked an eye open. The voice wasn’t familiar, but not unknown either. The girl in front of you smiled bright. “I thought you’d be late. Again.” There was an obvious teasing each to her voice, as if you knew each other.

You didn’t, right?

You looked around at the street around you, startled to realize that it had completely changed. The bus station was gone, the sushi shop across the street replaced with an arcade. The city you were now in was nice. Sleek. The kind of stuff they show in Sci-Fi movies. Oddly familiar, too. You looked up above you, trying to catch a glimpse of the sign hanging above your head.

Destiny Cafe.

Wait.

Destiny Cafe?

You felt your throat tighten. You looked around, more attentive this time, searching for any sign that you were right and this wasn’t just a coincidence. When you caught sight of an Otto-Bot, you knew.

You were in that game. That stupid game you’d downloaded a few months ago out of curiosity. The game you’d spent too many hours in, finding comfort in the words of men who did not exist.

If you really were in Love and Deepspace, would that make you the main character? That’s usually what happens in those Isekai stories, right? Your thoughts whirled before you were brought back by the expectant stare of the girl in front of you. She doesn’t look like Tara or any of MC’s friends, you thought, so who could she be?

You examined her closely. She was almost like you. As if her appearance were a distant echo of your own. But upon closer inspection, you could see: where your eyes had many flecks of colors, hers had only the one. Where your skin had a blemish here and there, a slight change of hue, hers remained consistent. She was too clean, as if there were no substance at all. And that wasn’t even considering her perfect pale skin, or long, sleek black hair. That was when you realized, and a wave of disappointment flowed through you. This was her.

Everything about her seemed so two-dimensional, a constant reminder that this was not a version of you or even an independent person, but the Main Character of an otome game.

This was the figure in all the promotional art.

This was the main character of Love and Deepspace.

Not you.

Her.

After all, why would it be you, when she was standing right next to you?

“Hello? You’re staring off into space. Are you okay?” She waved her hand in front of your eyes. Your gaze snapped to hers. Though her brows were drawn in concern, you weren’t sure you could name a single emotion behind her eyes. “If you’re not feeling well, we can always go home… We don’t have to go out today if you don’t want to. Don’t feel bad for saying you don’t want to just because it’s my first day back here in a few weeks.”

You looked at her, your confusion only growing. How can you figure out what the hell is going on without seeming absolutely insane? “…Sorry, I hit my head really bad earlier this morning, and I’m having trouble remembering things. Could you just give me a quick sum-up of what’s been happening?” It wasn’t perfect, but maybe you could get some answers.

The furrow in her brow deepened. “You… don’t remember?” She suddenly grabbed your arm. “Do you remember my name is Em?!”

So that was her name. “Of course I do!” you chuckled. “Just give me a run-down of the past few months, maybe it will jog my memory.” You smiled, hopefully convincingly.

It seemed to do the trick, because she smiled back before diving into what seemed to be her life story with great enthusiasm. “Well a few months ago, I went to the N109 Zone for that one secret mission, do you remember that? Well anyway I was gone for a few weeks, I spent a lot of time with my friend Skye. I’m pretty sure you meant him, we saw him at that work karaoke party?”

Skye in the N109 Zone. You realized with a start: I’ve met Sylus! At a work party? Surely you’re not a hunter. You realized Em was waiting for your yes or no before continuing, so you gave her a slight nod to go on.

“Right, so, after that I took a few missions with Xavier, helped out Rafayel with bodyguard duties or whatever, and had to go see Zayne for a ton of things because apparently my heart was beating arrhythmically. Turns out I’m fine, just a lot of excitement happened, you know? Anyways, after that I took leave for a few weeks to go to Skyhaven. You remember that, right? I remember I told you a lot cause you were using your access for research to help me out.”

Access for research? What kind of purpose did you serve in this plot line?

“I got in a bit of trouble with the Farspace Fleet, but everything’s fine so don’t worry! And now I’m here to meet up with you ‘cause I missed my roomie!” She gave you a tight hug.

She certainly had a lot of energy, you noted.

So from what you gathered: You were roommates with Em and you both worked at the Hunter’s Association. It seems she’s pretty up-to-date as far as the main plot line goes. That, unfortunately, means you’ll be left in the dark for a lot of future events. You’ll have to go off of only the secrets you know from the game.

You mentally thanked yourself for not neglecting any of the Love Interests. You knew they were all extremely important in the world, and, despite having a favorite, you participated in events and games with all of them. All of their affinities were relatively high, meaning you knew a lot of lore.

That could come in handy.

You were still struggling to realize your importance in this world, though. Surely, if you were this close to the Main Character, you contributed something, right?

Would you be able to find a happy ending in this game?

Em continued jabbering on, mentioning little memories and conversations you two had shared.

You stared at her blankly, unsure of what she was talking about. It certainly sounded like something you would say, or something you would do, but you had no recollection of any of it.

Then, it came to you.

Fragments, at first. Memories of a life that wasn’t quite yours. One somewhat empty. One that seemed hastily added in at the last second. One that didn’t hold importance in a world as vast as this.

An afterthought.

You decided to eat lunch with Em. ‘You’ had apparently promised her a lunch date, after all. You didn’t go into Destiny Cafe, and you weren’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. It almost felt like breaking the fourth wall to go inside, and you were afraid of what you would find when you entered.

Would it feel as empty as Em’s eyes?

You ended up finding a quiet sandwich shop. It was cute, homey, and you could feel yourself settling into a rhythm with Em. While you ate and chatted, attempting to seem casual and familiar in this setting, you watched her closely.

She was almost like an extension of yourself. You could see your own influence, seeping in from your various choices in the game, no matter how small. But she was still her own person.

You would never be her, you realized with a pang in your chest.

Never carry that importance.

So what was left for you?

A secondary character meant to fade into the background.

What fate awaited you?

Had anyone even bothered to weave the strings in the fabric that is your destiny?

comments and reblogs appreciated! <3

masterlist

[posh--bee]

all bark no bite || Aaron Hotchner

pairing → Aaron Hotchner x Reader

summary → It starts with your boss slash older boyfriend's hand simply resting on your thigh while driving in one of the team's SUVs through the night. But it soon turns into your hand on the noticeable bulge in his tight pants, teaching him a long overdue lesson.

warnings → smut (18+ only), fem!reader, BAU!reader, secret relationship, age gap, teasing, handjob, car sex...?, heavy on the dog imagery, shamelessly pushing the desperate loser bottom Hotch agenda

author's note → This was supposed to be a blurb but after the first 500 words the story looked me dead into the eyes and told me it's a full fic. And now, a few days and this year's ESC later is! And I really don't what happened here, all I can say is that I am but a mere slave of the freaky spirits that possessed me to write this. Let me know what you think about it ;D

word count → 4k

masterlist(s)

The countryside outside your window passes by in a blur of various shades of black, the darkness closing in all around you, broken only by the blindingly bright headlights of the government-issued (and in your humble opinion, incredibly ugly) massive SUV you're currently driving in.

Well, you're not actually the one driving, Hotch is, because he insisted like the annoyingly caring boss slash secret older boyfriend he is, his focus solely and sternly on the road in front of you to keep the car from crashing into the thick line of trees standing next to your path through nowhere America, population: just you and him, and some forest dweller thankfully smart enough to wait for you to pass by them before stepping their paws or hooves onto the cold and bumpy asphalt.

You're just sitting prettily in the passenger seat, bored out of your mind with a headache brewing behind your eyes from the long and exhausting day you had that is already bleeding into the next one, examining the different secluded locations your current unsub dumped his victims' bodies to be discovered by unsuspecting hikers weeks or sometimes months later.

You scrub your hands over your face and rub your tired eyes which earns you a sympathetic chuckle from your personal chauffeur, his eyes never leaving the road ahead of you. You resign yourself to fiddle with the fancy radio of the SUV, skipping from obscure local station to obscure local station, from generic country song to generic country song before you turn the stupid thing off for good with a huff of grouchy frustration.

"Don't worry, the motel isn't far anymore, okay?"

If his low and gentle voice isn't enough to appease your mood, the big big hand that leaves the steering wheel in favor of coming to rest on top of your thigh definitely is. He softly squeezes your leg, his doting eyes finding yours for just a moment and you can't help but to smile at the man who stole your heart with his brown eyes following you longingly whenever he thought he was unobserved, with his awkwardly gentle touches and his sad attempts of what he thought qualified as flirting. The warmth of his palm seeps steadily through the fabric of your trousers into your own skin, the pleasant feeling spreading from there through your whole body and you relax into your seat, immediately mollified by this simple touch of his.

But as his thumb starts to rub slow circles into your clothed skin, even absentmindedly tracing along the inner seam of your pants, the depraved part of your brain that embarrassingly is always just a little bit horny for him deliberately misreads your boyfriend's innocent gesture and suddenly, your whole body is wide awake. You try to be good and ignore the tingling sensation between your legs each slow and heavy drag of his thumb against your skin feeds, but it gets more and more insistent by the second and you can't help but hope against hope that his deliciously thick fingers will be shoved down your panties to toy with your clit and fill up your lonely cunt within the next few minutes.

You're 99.8% sure that Hotch isn't sharing this particular vision of yours, with the remaining 0.2% wishful thinking at best, but that doesn't stop you from curling your fingers around his much larger hand and slowly, playfully bringing it closer to where you so desperately need it, need him.

Regrettably, your boyfriend, who is much more concerned with decorum than you could ever be, proves you right.

"Behave, will you?" he gently scolds you, a lovingly exasperated smile playing on his lips as he wiggles his hand from your insistent fingers. He shifts slightly in his seat then, raising his hand to your face, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before simply cupping your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin softly.

You lean into his touch immediately, the whine that spills past your lips making you sound incredibly pathetic but you don't care about that right now. You're exhausted and frustratingly turned on and just want him to make you feel good while you're enthusiastically returning the favor. If he actually loved you, like he always tells you he does in the stolen moments during cases or in the privacy of your apartment, he'd just stop the car on the side of the road and let you climb over center console onto his lap, let you spit in your palm to work him to complete hardness before pulling your panties to the side and sink onto his cock that you're actually convinced ruined you for any other man on the planet—not that you would admit that in front of him, ever. And then he'd let you ride him to your heart's content, you gasping and moaning on top of him as his infuriatingly perfect dick hits all those sweet spots inside of you with every sharp thrust while he hides his face in your neck, groaning wetly against your skin, his hands leaving bruises against the soft skin of your hips while desperately chasing his own release—until you're both shaking with ecstasy and exhaustion, the tinted windows of the SUV fogged up from your exertion, and your shared spend dripping from where you're connected so intimately, making a sticky mess of his trousers and the black leather of his seat.

But instead his thumb brushes lightly over your pouting bottom lip before he's leaning into your space to place an infuriatingly deep and lingering kiss to your lips, his talented tongue tracing the seam of your lips teasingly while his eyes flicker between your half-lidded and blissed-out ones and the dark road stretching in front of you.

The only thing that that kiss accomplishes is to stir the simmering arousal deep in your belly into a blue-flamed fire and make you a little bit stupid which he's completely aware of, smugly smirking against your lips before pulling back completely, even placing his other hand back on the steering wheel.

This time, you swallow the pitiful little noise rising in your throat, clinging to your last measly shreds of dignity with burning ears and the miserable throbbing of your neglected clit between your legs.

You stubbornly turn your head with your chin held high to watch the blurry darkness rush past your window instead of longingly staring at his side profile and strong jawline for the rest of the drive like your heart—your pussy—wants to. (Same difference, really.)

You hear him chuckle quietly to himself which only makes you raise your chin higher, visibly flinching when you suddenly feel the tips of his fingers ghost over the naked skin of your arm. He immediately squeezes your elbow in apology for startling you and you can't help the smile tugging at your lips at the sweet gesture, hoping he doesn't feel the goosebumps that his initial touch caused to rise on your skin.

Then he says your name all adoringly with that stupidly attractive voice of his and you aren't strong enough to not look at him then. The slow grin that forms on his handsome face and the cocky rise of one eyebrow however tell you that you fell right into his trap. Because apparently, he's not done teasing you yet—far from it.

But two can play this game, you decide with an overdramatic roll of your eyes, especially when he opens his mouth again, drawing out his words slightly.

"Be good for me, sweetheart, and I promise you I'm all yours when this case is over and we're back home."

The indignant huff that pushes past your lips at his words only makes him grin harder, the enticing crow's feet framing his eyes and the dimples at the corners of his mouth mocking you with how stupidly attractive you find them—find all of him, really.

But you're quick to wipe that grin off his face when you reach over and drop your hand to his lap, unceremoniously cupping him over his tight dress pants.

His reaction is everything you knew it would be—and then some.

Instinctually, his hips roll forward, pushing himself more insistently into your touch, into the warmth of your skin bleeding through the layers of fabric and the delicious pressure you're squeezing him with, his jaw going slack in the process, his control immediately slipping through his fingers as they're gripping the steering wheel for dear life. You revel in this sight without shame, without mercy, the realization of how much power you're holding over him giving you a headrush like it did the first time. And you're really not a good enough person to not exploit this little fact unashamedly, not when he was acting like that, toying with you like that.

He may have you wrapped around his little finger, but his leash is in your hands and you're keeping him on a tight rein.

Because for you and only you, this big bad, scary FBI agent becomes a docile little lapdog, one single assertive touch of yours and he's presenting his belly to you.

All bark and no bite.

Because while you're playing the role of his hypersexual younger girlfriend perfectly, not only easily 10 years his junior but also his subordinate for the extra sprinkle of office drama wrapped in an HR nightmare, he's the pathetically repressed and touch-starved middle-aged, overworked and divorced father who wallowed in shame and guilt over his 'inappropriate' thoughts and feelings for you until you showed him absolution by shoving him into his office one night when the bullpen was completely deserted and simply yanking his tie down until his lips crashed into yours.

And you're very happy with your complementary roles in this still-secret relationship of yours, because you know you're only acting like you are with him, because he's the first and only man you have ever fully trusted with your body and soul, with every fiber of your being, knowing with absolute certainty that your trust won't be broken.

You're even more pleased about it when his head falls back against the headrest of his seat and a rough moan reaches your ears, a guttural sound coming from deep within his chest that resonates between your legs. And for now, you're kind enough to continue your ministrations, not when he's standing at attention for you so nicely after only a few light and teasing touches of yours.

Your usually so composed boyfriend curses under his breath which in your humble opinion is one of the hottest things he can do, only surpassed by staring down patronizing and sexist small town police officers with a superiority complex and calmly but sternly putting them into their place, or rolling his shirts above his elbows to do literally anything. Bonus points if he's wearing his bulletproof vest for any of these three scenarios.

"What are you doing?" he manages to grit through clenched teeth before his breathing hitches delightfully, your hand purposefully stroking over the mouth-watering shape of his generously sized and equally aroused dick clearly outlined against the tight fabric of his pants. Your fingers close around him as best as they can like this, the sheer girth of him shutting down your brain momentarily as you're reminded just how perfectly he fills you up when you sink down on his cock, the stretch toying deliciously with the fine line of absolutely heavenly and almost painfully. Your poor neglected cunt clenches around nothing and you feel your arousal turning your panties into an uncomfortably sticky mess.

You're brought back to reality when you feel his cock twitch pitifully against your hand in its confinement and you remember your boyfriend asked you a question that you haven't answered yet. How rude of you.

So you look at him with your eyes fluttering innocently, your head tilted to the side in mock-confusion, all while your hand continues to stroke him and make him lose his mind—the realization that he will finish in his pants if you keep your sweet torture up only makes the coil in his stomach tighten, his ears and cheeks burning in humiliation.

"What do you mean?" you chuckle lightly, mirth dancing in your bright eyes, getting drunk on the sight of your usually so commanding and imposing boyfriend being turned into this pathetic mess of a man from just your nimble hands. "I'm only returning the favor."

Not even a second later your face falls and your eyes widen in belittling concern, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth before you ask him gingerly, "Or do you want me to stop?"

You're cruel enough to pull your hand back, too, folding both of them in your lap while searching his suddenly panicked eyes, looking almost earnestly, but the condescending smile on your lips gives you away immediately. Not that you were really trying to hide it.

The wanton little whine that spills past his lips is answer enough, pleading with you out of the corner of his eyes, his gaze torn between your pretty and mean face and the road he's still driving the massive SUV on.

You however are not merciful enough to answer his pleas, too entertained by watching your poor boyfriend figuratively and literally squirm in his seat. But like the misbehaving and greedy mutt he is he blindly reaches for your hand in your lap, his shaking fingers curling tightly around it before pressing it back to his erection straining against the dark fabric of his pants, stroking himself with your hand swallowed by his own, his hips rolling mindlessly into the touch.

Your surprised little sound that was decidedly not a moan is drowned out by the relieved sigh pushing past his lip. You only allow this crude stunt of his because you're literally too stunned by it to do anything else but watch him with your mouth hanging open, letting him use your hand as he pleases, debauched and desperate, your touch the only thing on his mind.

Oh, you'll have to seriously put him in his place.

Because if he really thinks he can get away with misbehaving like this, denying you earlier what he's doing right now, there is a horribly rude awakening waiting for him on the horizon.

That's the only thing on your mind as you struggle to regain your composure even as your fingers curl around his twitching dick, squeezing him harder than is probably comfortable in punishment, before wrestling your hand out of his grasp.

"Fuck, don't stop—"

You ignore how your name leaving his lips in a moan makes your thighs clench together, ignore how your poor clit throbbing with want screams at you to just shove his hand down your pants to finish what he wouldn't earlier, ignore his words and not dignify him with any spoken answer.

Instead, you lean closer to him over the car's center console, your fingers making quick work of his belt before unceremoniously popping open the button of his trousers. His hips shift closer to your touch again while both of his hands have the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grasp, his tongue peeking out to wet his dry lips briefly.

"Sweetheart—"

His eyes snap down to his own lap where you're slowly pulling down his pants' zipper but you pause halfway through when you notice where his attention has shifted to.

"Eyes on the road, Agent Hotchner," you scold him sternly and he obeys at once, firmly fixing his gaze on the dark road still stretching out in front of you, humming appreciatively when you open his fly all the way. You bring your hand closer to your lips then, shamelessly spitting in it while you have front row seats to your boyfriend hurriedly pulling his erection out of his underwear without his eyes straying from where you've told him they should be. He's well-behaved enough to immediately return his hand to its place on the steering wheel, even when you take a moment to appreciate him in all of his glory like this. His cock stands up proudly for you, coming to rest against his stomach, gently twitching. Even in the dim lighting your eyes can easily follow the prominent vein running down his considerable length, the head of him a miserable shade of red and the drop of pre-cum shining on the tip beckoning you closer.

You give into the temptation, your spit mixing with the sticky clear fluid as you bring your wet palm to his sensitive head, your hand closing around it before you slowly, deliberately work your way down, making sure every single inch of his stupidly big cock feels the delicious tightness and warmth of your fingers wrapped around him, keeping the same maddening pace when you reach the base and retrace your path back to his weeping tip.

He sighs your name oh-so gratefully and you're almost willing to forgive this blatant misbehavior of his during tonight's drive now that your hand is wrapped so nicely around his cock, burning hot to the touch, his skin silky-smooth and soft, your thumb tracing along the vein at the side. Especially now that you feel the whole weight of him against your palm, real and perfect and twitching desperately, and only for you. Yours to play with, caress and tease until his whole body goes rigid as his orgasm hits him, his dick pulsing in your hand as you work him through it, thick ropes of cum spurting from his tip, covering your fingers and running down your hand, his length, little drops of it getting caught in the coarse dark hairs at the base.

But you square your shoulders, figuratively that is, reminding yourself that you can literally drool over his cock after you're finished with this basic lesson, teaching your unsuspecting boyfriend that actions have consequences and that he should know better than to string you along like he did.

Without warning you pick up your hand's pace, deliberately neglecting his most sensitive spots while you steadily jerk him off, the sounds of the car rolling a little less than smoothly over the bumpy road drowned out by all of his enticing noises, groans and gasps and moans, high and breathy, by the sound of your hand guiding him closer and closer to the edge.

You're attuned well enough to his body by now to keep him from falling before you want him to, expertly dancing around his point of no return, slowing down when he gets too close, replacing your palm with just the tips of your fingers or stop moving altogether, simply holding him with your hand wrapped around the thick base before beginning to gently stroke him again.

So with all that petty torture you're subjecting your now writhing boyfriend in the driver's seat of the still moving SUV to, you're admittedly a little surprised when you look up and see the red neon sign of the cheap motel the team is staying at for this case glowing like a beacon in the dead of the night, the bold "M" flickering sickly, instead of ending with the car's whole engine block wrapped around a tree somewhere in a ditch next to the desolate road like you expected you would.

With his last ounce of strength and sanity, your boyfriend jerkily maneuvers the car onto the motel's premises, pulling up next to the other two government-issued SUVs before carelessly and quite crookedly throwing the car into park. He impatiently unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches over to do the same to yours, giving you no further warning before his strong arms wrap urgently around your waist and back, half-lifting, half-dragging you over the center console to place you squarely on his lap.

His big hairy paws immediately cage your face between them, insistently pulling you closer until his hungry lips are pressed to yours, groaning deeply against your mouth in pure, bone-deep relief, all but devouring you like the starved mutt that he is.

And you let him, meeting his desperation with the same hunger, the same greed, your fingers far from gentle where they grab onto a fistful of dark strands of hair at the back of his head, pulling on them just for the sake of it, just to swallow the curse that tumbles from his mouth into yours when his tongue finds yours.

His arms are wrapped almost suffocatingly tight around you, trapping your body against his while his fingers are digging into your soft skin, and it doesn't seem like he plans on letting you go anytime soon, wanting you just like this. Right here, right now, parked in front of a little motel with the car's headlights not even turned off, the engine still idling—a motel, you might add, that all of your medically certified insomniac teammates are staying at too.

How adorably hypocritical of him. At least you wanted to fuck him on the side of a deserted road in the middle of nowhere.

So finally, it's your turn to grin wickedly against his lips and slowly pull back from him. You chuckle quietly at the way he immediately sways forward, blindly chasing your touch, his dark and dazed eyes blinking open sluggishly when he doesn't find it again because you're moving out of his reach further.

He searches your face in stupefied confusion, the warm brown hue of his eyes swallowed almost completely by his blown-out pupils, while you only smile serenely at him, your arms wrapped around his shoulder lightly while your fingers are playing with the short strands of hair at his neck.

"Sweetheart, please."

He actually whimpers and you don't know what that says about you, but it's probably the hottest sound you've ever heard coming out of his mouth. His fingers dig deeper into your skin, hard enough to leave bruises and bordering on painful but you really don't mind, too drunk on this beautifully debauched sight in front of you. His usually carefully and strictly styled hair is a mess, the apples of his cheeks rivaling the red glow of the motel's neon sign and his lips kiss-swollen and shining with spit while his belt is unbuckled and his pants are open, his painfully hard dick trapped between your bodies, begging for the release you denied him over and over again during the drive. Release, he realized in desperate dread, you're not planning on allowing him now as well.

You lean closer to him again, your chest pressed against his while your breath fans over the shell of his once-pierced ear. He didn't try to deny it when you asked him about it, after all, you could see the little mark left on his earlobe from when he was younger, but to this day he heartlessly refuses to show you a picture of him back then wearing an earring even though you promised him you would be normal about it. (You absolutely wouldn't. You know that. And he knows that too.)

Your low voice so close to his ear makes a shiver run down his spine, but the words leaving your lips in a condescending purr turn the blood in his veins to ice.

"You didn't seriously think I'd let you come after teasing me like this, did you? Oh, you poor, delusional man."

You catch his earlobe between your teeth and with one last dirty roll of your hips you reach for the door handle on his side and hop out of the SUV, striding to the entrance of the motel, letting the metal ring of the key to your single room spin around your finger.

"Have a good and restful night, sweetheart," you sing-song without looking back, your lips curling into a devilish smile when you hear your boyfriend's broken "Fuck—!" that sound like a sob echoing through the dead of the night.

You really hope he will remember tonight's lesson—for his sake.

Because only well-behaved good boys get their treat.

Thank you so much for reading <3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!

Feel free to hop into my inbox if you have a fic request or just want to talk ✨

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[jeonginsleftcheek]

A relaxing evening

pairing: lee felix x afab!reader

genre: smut, fluff, roommates to lovers

word count: 3.2k

warnings: soft dom lix, big dick lix, sensual massage, clit play, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, one light spank, not proofread (lmk if i missed something)

a/n: after spending a month writing a literal 70k+ book for hyunjin i hit a bit of a writer's block and who better to get me out of it than my very own muse, lee felix😏

~ Masterlist

To say you've had a horrible day was an understatement.

You've had the worst day that actually stretched and turned into the worst week.

Your boss was on your neck constantly, there was so much work to do which made you stay at the company working overtime and coming home late.

To make matters worse, everyone was angry and annoyed, so the conflict at work grew into a displeasing feeling that had you desperate for any kind of relief, even just a free afternoon to nap.

Felix, your roommate and friend, noticed how you came home later than usually and more drained day after day, the dark circles under your eyes getting progressively darker as the week came to an end.

Finally, Friday came around and you were barely standing on your feet when you walked into the apartment.

Felix is sitting on the couch, probably playing some games before sleep as you shuck off your shoes.

"Hi, sugar plum."- he snickers when he hears you groaning behind him, his head falling backwards to catch a glimpse of you.

"Please, don't start. I'm not in the mood."- you say tiredly.

Usually you throw disgustingly cute nicknames back and forth at each other but your brain was short-circuiting so bad that even thinking of a nickname for your friend was hard.

Felix exhales, pouting as he gets up and makes his way to you, helping you take off your blazer.

"I'll heat up some dinner."- he says and you nod, not even bothering to answer because the last ounce of strength you have is focused on standing upright.

You follow him to the kitchen to drink some water, and Felix looks at your tired frame, feeling sad that you're so down, instead of being your usual self, the one that jokes around and yaps away with him until the early morning.

"Why don't you sit down?"- he guides you to the chair and you sit wordlessly.

"My whole body hurts."- is what you say after a few moments of silence, as Felix waits for the dinner to warm up, his eyes trained outside the window.

"And my mind too."- you add as he looks at you and you notice the sympathetic smile he gives you.

"Well..."- Felix starts as he takes the food out on a plate. "I could prepare you a nice warm bath."

"You would do that?"- you ask, in your tired state you feel emotional and tears prick at your eyes.

"Of course I would."- he smiles, the sweet expression on his face as he brings you dinner makes you feel a little bit healed already.

"You're an angel, Lixie."- you smile as he squeezes your shoulder.

"I don't know about that."- he chuckles shyly, his freckled cheeks becoming rosy instantly.

You shake your head with a fond smile as he makes his way to the bathroom while you finally have a normal warm meal after the lunch you ate at work.

Hunger takes you over and you finish eating quickly, just in time for Felix to come back.

"Oh, you're done already?"- he asks.

"Don't judge me."- you say and he chuckles.

"No, I'm not judging, just wondering if you're still hungry. I could make you something else?"

"No, no don't worry, Lix. I'm ready for that relaxing bath."- you smile and he nods, biting on his lip.

"Um, can I suggest something?"- he asks as you stand up and you tilt your head at him.

"What is it?"- you ask curiously.

"You know I have some knowledge about massaging. I could help you relieve your stress with a full body massage." - Felix says and your eyes widen. "I mean if you're comfortable with it. You don't have to... ugh forget it."- he seems embarassed suddenly and you chuckle.

"A free full body massage? Sign me up."- you smirk.

"Who said it was free?"- he smirks back at you.

"Oh, so you're gonna charge me for your services, hm?"- you joke and he laughs.

"No, of course not. I'm just joking."- he says. "Go enjoy the bath I prepared, before it gets cold."- he adds and you make your way to the bathroom.

As soon as you walk in, you gasp, Felix has really made an effort.

He put your favorite bath bomb with bubbles into the water, lit your favorite scented candle and even adjusted the lighting to be less attacking on your tired eyes.

You strip in no time, throwing all your clothes inside the hamper and getting into the bath as quickly as you could.

The water is still warm and it feels wonderful to submerge your weary body into the relaxing feeling.

You close your eyes, leaning your head back on a towel as you feel the relaxation slowly taking you over, traveling through your limbs and making you feel weightless.

The warm and cozy atmosphere that Felix created have you almost falling asleep in the bath as your body slips a little and you sit up with a start, your eyes snapping open.

"Y/n? You okay?"- you hear Felix on the other side of the door.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'll be out soon."

"Okay, I prepared everything for the massage."- he says and you giggle to yourself.

You don't feel too nervous being practically naked in front of Felix as you have known him for a long time and since you've been roommates you have seen each other naked on accident a few times.

He even gave you a few shoulder and back massages when you were in pain from sitting at your desk for too long but he never suggested a full body one.

Curious about it and ready to relax completely, you shower and dry off quickly, putting a bathrobe on and leaving to your room.

"Lix?"- you peek inside and see that he has fluffed up your bed, lit another scented candle and a few normal ones just to add to the atmosphere, and prepared some massage oils.

"Damn, you went all out."- you chuckle.

"I wanna make you feel better."- he smiles sweetly, making your heart flutter a little as you make your way towards the bed.

The two of you stand awkwardly for a few moments before both of you chuckle.

"I should undress, right?"- you smile and Felix nods quickly before turning his back to you and covering his eyes for a good measure.

"Tell me when you're ready to start."- his voice is muffled behind his palms and you giggle as you take the robe off.

You lay down on your stomach, pulling a towel that Felix prepared over your backside and private parts, getting comfy on the soft bed.

"I'm ready."- you say when you find a nice position, your forehead pressed against the end of the pillow so you can breathe, your arms on either sides of you, aligning with your body.

Felix bites on his lip as his eyes roam on your body shamelessly.

"Lix?"- you say and he snaps out of his thoughts.

"Yes, let me grab some lavender oil. It's good for relaxing."- he announces and you mutter, ready to just enjoy having his skilful hands on you.

Felix kneels next to you, as you feel the bed dip and hear him opening the little bottle of oil.

Some light music is playing in the background and you exhale a hundred worries as soon as his fingers press on your shoulders.

"Mm Lixie."- you moan instantly, making his gut stir but he shakes it off, wanting to focus only on your well-being.

His thumbs circle your flesh slowly, going up to the sides of your neck and down the top of your shoulders before pressing back to the original spot, circling it and taking off the stiffness you feel from spending long hours at your desk.

Little moans of relaxation keep coming out of your mouth and Felix's sweatpants get tighter, as your body visibly relaxes.

Working his way down your back, he keeps adding oil and finding the most painful spots skilfully and relieving you of your pain, as if it was his actual career.

"God, Lixie, you're so good."- you whimper, smushing your face into the pillow for a moment.

"I know."- Felix smirks, making you chuckle.

And he does know. He knows exactly which pressure points are located where so when his fingers press into your lower back, just a bit above your ass, you feel a wave wash over you.

"Oh."- you exclaim a little but Felix never acknowledges it, smirking behind you as he gently massages your lower back.

You start feeling a bit hot, aroused even as he continues his ministrations, fingertips barely dipping to the swell of your ass.

Your breathing is slow and deep, your body completely relaxed as you left yourself in Felix's precious hands.

Felix shuffles a little, you hear more oil being opened before you feel his hands on your foot.

"Good?"- he checks in on you and you whimper as he presses and continues bringing you relaxing touches.

"Perfect."- you half-whisper, your mind floaty, all the stress from the week forgotten, no thoughts, just Felix.

Felix, with his soft hands and deep voice, his pretty smile and adorable freckles.

Wait.

Why are you thinking of him like that?

You don't know why, and you don't care as his hands slide above your ankle, he presses four fingers on your skin as if he's measuring something on the inner side before he finds a pressure point and starts working on it.

As soon as his finger finds that spot, you shiver, feeling yourself getting aroused the more he keeps circling that spot.

You would feel embarassed but you're so relaxed that you couldn't care less, your body melting even further into the bed, your arms coming up on either sides of your head as you gently fist the sheets beneath you.

Felix smirks, massaging the point harder, making your arousal drip between your folds, your cunt clenching around nothing.

He notices your slight squirming and that lets him know he's got you right where he wanted you.

He lets go for now, hands sliding up to massage your tired muscles.

At this point, you're aroused, wishing he would touch you where you need him the most and you want to press your legs together but you don't want him to notice that.

Felix already knows, after all, his touches were purposeful and he has wanted you for so long, wanted to be the one to make you feel good.

"Lix."- his nickname almost sounds like a whimper as he runs his hands on the back of your thighs.

"You okay?"- he asks, his fingertips dipping between your legs, touching your inner thighs as he gently starts massaging the flesh.

This is the last straw, your slick is now gushing out and you start feeling embarassed, wondering if he can see it or smell it.

"I-I'm fine."- you whimper as he keeps massaging your thighs.

"You sure?"- he asks, hands sliding up, close to your core and you lean into his touch as you grip the sheets.

"N-no."- you whimper.

"What's wrong?"- Felix smirks, fingertips brushing your asscheeks.

"I- um... I'm horny."- you turn your head sideways to look at him and he hovers over you.

"I know. You're kinda obvious."- he says and you whine.

"You did this on purpose."- you say as he runs his hands on your lower back and waist, making you shiver constantly as you feel ten times more sensitive than usually.

"Would you hate me if I did?"- he bites on his lip, his eyes big and pleading.

"No."- you whisper.

"You want me to continue?"- he asks and you nod.

"Please."

"How about a special massage?"- his voice is low as he slowly removes the towel. "Do I have your permission, angel?"

"Yeah."- you say, legs spreading slightly as you lift up your middle just a bit so he can touch you properly.

Felix groans at you presenting your wetness to him, your forehead buried in the pillow again as you anticipate his touches.

His hands are on your ass, as he gropes and massages them before his fingertips dip between your legs, sliding through your wet folds.

"L-Lixie."- you whimper as he touches you teasingly, fingers gently rubbing around your pussy and towards your other hole, down to your inner thighs again.

You push back into him and he gently grabs your hip.

"Don't move, my honey bee."- he says and you snort.

"Alright, pumpkin pie."- you retort.

"Let me do all the work, you just relax."- he says, fingers sliding through your dripping folds repeatedly, making you clench around nothing constantly, before he finally presses into your clit.

"Mm."- you moan when he starts sliding the pads of his fingers up and down your clit, swollen with arousal and coated in your slick.

You moan quietly as Felix keeps massaging your sensitive clit slowly, up and down, left and right and then circling it and gently pinching it, occasionally dipping his fingertips into your cunt to gather more of your arousal.

You've never had anyone touch you this gently, it was usually a guy just flicking your clit fast when you're about to cum and while that does feel nice, this was a different kind of nice.

You felt tortured in a good way, like Felix was constantly dangling your orgasm in front of your eyes but never letting you get to it.

So much arousal kept gushing out of your pussy that for a moment you thought you were cumming as he kept pressing his fingers into your clit, playing your body expertly, like he's done this many times before.

"Lix- I wanna cum."- you whimper.

"I know love, but be patient. Just a bit more, I promise it's gonna feel amazing."- he coos at you, fingers working your nub faster and with more pressure.

You push back into him again and he grabs your hip as he starts flicking your swollen clit fast.

"Lixie, ah!"- you whine loudly, your slick coating his hand.

"I need you inside me!"- you add, holding onto the sheets.

"Mhm, later. I know you can cum just from this."- he says, as you keep jolting and whining.

You can't believe it's happening but your orgasm hits you like a wave, as you spill onto his hand, moaning loudly as he keeps massaging your sensitive nub.

"Oh fuck!"- you whimper when he slides his fingers to your folds.

"Interested in a deeper massage?"- his voice is low and dark as he leans down to your ear, making goosebumps rise on your skin.

"Mm, please Lixie."- you moan.

He slowly pushes two of his fingers into your sopping cunt, taking him in greedily as you were so relaxed and ready to receive.

Felix adjusts his position between your legs and it doesn't take him long to find your gummy spot.

"Lix!"- you groan when he starts gently fucking into it.

"Feels good?"- he asks, his lips brushing your ear as he scissors you open.

"Heavenly."- you moan out as he fucks you slowly, effectively massaging your walls, making your pussy clench on his fingers constantly, begging for more.

"Just relax."- he says as you keep pushing back on his hand, slowly fucking yourself on his fingers.

"I said relax."- he chuckles, lightly smacking your ass.

You gasp, calming down immediately, surprised by his commanding tone and actions.

You never thought your shy Felix would be handling you like this as you present yourself to him, to use you freely as he wants.

But all he actually wants is to bring you pleasure like you've never felt before, making sure to ruin every man for you so you only belong to him.

Eventually he speeds up, his fingers perfectly hitting your sweet spot and driving you insane, as you drip around him, the wet sounds are so loud that it makes you feel even more aroused.

Felix leans down and unexpectedly starts kissing and gently biting the flesh on your ass as he holds your hip and ruts his fingers fast into you.

"Ah, ah, Lix- Lixie, ah! Felix!"- you moan desperately as you tremble, squirting a fountain as he keeps on fucking into you, prolonging your orgasm as much as he can, teeth sinking into your flesh as you squirm under him.

"Oh..."- you're speechles when he pulls out, you can't feel your legs and your ears are ringing.

"You with me, angel?"- Felix hovers above you as he caresses your head gently.

"That was the best orgasm ever."- you exhale.

"Told you I wanna make you feel better."- he smirks, hearing you praise him boosts his ego and makes his cock twitch and throb painfully inside his tight boxers.

"Is there more?"- you chuckle making him laugh and he gently turns you to lay on your back.

"If you want, I can offer more special massages."- he smirks as his eyes roam all over your body, his hands squeezing your thighs and massaging them gently.

You look down to see his dick straining in his pants.

He follows your eyes and looks down too, just as you hook your fingers in his pants.

"I want your cock, Lixie."- you say as you slowly slide his pants down.

"You do?"- he looks a bit surprised and you giggle.

"Mhm."- you say as you finally free him.

"Oh."- you gasp. "You're a grower."- you add with a smirk.

"Oh shut up."- he looks embarassed suddenly and you start giggling again.

"Come here and kiss me first."- you say and his eyes soften as he leans down to kiss you sloppily, your tongues crashing against each other, his heavy cock pressed against you.

"So pretty."- you bit on his lip as your hands wrap around his length.

"What, my cock?"- he chuckles.

"Mhm. Want it so bad."- you whimper, and Felix groans lowly.

"You can have it, angel. Anything you need."- he says as he slowly pushes inside you.

"Mm. More."- your legs wrap around him, making him hit deeper as he keeps pushing his length inside you until he fills you up to the brim.

"Feeling relaxed?"- he asks, his hand coming up to brush your hair behind your ear and gently touch your face.

"Mhm, I have no thoughts at all."- you give him a smile and he chuckles quietly.

"Then, let's keep it that way."- he says as he slowly starts sliding his cock against your walls.

Felix keeps working hard to make you satisified and relaxed, to get you into a state of pure bliss, even if it means putting his own pleasure at the back shelf as he makes you cum on his cock over and over again.

He fucks you until you're shaking and crying, gripping at his biceps and clawing at his back, whimpering how sensitive you are, your pussy sloppy and shaped to fit his cock, which is when he finally lets go, cumming inside you hard, filling you up with his hot cum.

And when you fall asleep in his arms, a small blissful smile on your face, Felix knows he has accomplished his mission.

And he will do it again in a heartbeat, anything to make you feel better.

✨Taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @laughatdanger

[angelsluva]

Rewarded :: Hamzahthefantastic x reader

⚠️: smut + fem reader

wrd count: 973

| You jumped out of your seat as you saw Hamzah’s sweaty arm lift as they announced his victory. Sweat radiated off his body as he accepted his victory as he was aching everywhere as sweat covered his swole body. You and his whole family jumped and cheered in celebration. After a memorable moment between him and Martin and an interview with their fans you were sitting in his office watching from your phone due to you leaving early.

He knocked on the door as he came in knowing you were in they’re. His soft grin appeared on his lips as you jumped up and wrapped your arms around his neck that was still hot.

“Congrats Hamzah! I love you! You did so good babe!” Your embrace made him groan a little as he squeezed your waist. Pulling off, you sat him down near a office chair,

“I’m sorry babe, did i hurt you?” You asked worried as he shook his head pulling you down on his lap as you began rubbing and messaging his tense shoulders.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” You questioned your tired boyfriend as he shook his head. “M’just very sore right now honey. It’s just my arms though” he sighed. “I can help you with that maybe?” You smirked as your hands rolled around his shoulders and biceps. Since those months and months of training you noticed how strong he was getting. The way his biceps would be there without even flexing or how his abs we’re appearing more then ever You’ve always wanted to tell him but you never wanted to get in the way of anything. Right now, it seemed like your only chance. You kissed his forehead as his eyes were shut in tiredness.

“you were so good out there” you whispered as you kissed his jawline as he rubbed your thigh closer to your core. “All for you y/n” he opened his eyes as he cupped your face grabbing your cheek placing his lips on yours. He groaned in ache but need as your knees shifted apart fully sitting on his lap. He slowly began grinding every so lightly as you couldn’t help but part your lips from him,

“No, let me soothe you baby” you got up from his lap as you were now on your knees in between his legs as his finger traced your jawline. “Let me relieve you Hamzah” the sentence made his skin crawl and his already erect member Twitch from you already on his lap.

“Fuck baby I love the way you talk like that” he muttered as his member sprung from his shorts. You pumped his hardened cock as he grunted gripping on the sides of the chair as your warm yet wet lips met his cock as he threw his head back in pleasure

“fuck fuck fuck” he whined as you slopped all over his cock as his pre-cum mixed with your spit made his member twitch in your mouth.

“fuck y/n, your so good to me” he bucked his hips as you gagged a bit.

“Fuck we better not get caught” you bit your lip as his finger signaled ‘shh’ on his mouth.

You bopped your head up and all the way down on his long member sending pools of pleasure over him, drowning in his lust.

“baby I can’t!” He whined as a loud popping noise was made from your mouth. “I need you on me please!” He pleaded with a bead of sweat falling from his forehead as you crawled on top of him.

Your core one layer away from the contact of his cock as his hands moved all over your body. His thumb rubbed your covered clit as you moaned from your mouth to his. His thumb pressing down on your clit receiving a thrust from you. You impatiently slid your panties to the side of your heat as sliding his long girth inside of you. Seeing stars, you hid behind his ear as you moaned right into his eardrums as his nails were pierced into you

“Fuck I haven’t been able to do this in forever- fuck y/n!” He stuttered as you placed your hands on his shoulders sitting up, “shh just relax” you sat on top of his cock as you slowly moved up and down from his cock as he gripped your beasts throwing his head back as you did works on his cock. Small whispers were heard from his mouth as you picked up speed.

“Shit, you’re so fucking gorgeous y/n! God-“ he panted as he fought the soreness and pleasure of his body. “You feel so fucking good- ngh-“

Rapidly skin slapping was heard from inside the room as him bucking his hips helped you find your g-spot. His hands were firmly held on to your waist as your hands tugged on to his ‘fashion nova’ hoodie.

“My. God. Baby!” He panted as he took a breath between words as his mouth sucked on your nipples sending chills through your arms. His tongue circled around your sensitive tits as you loudly moaned, your thrusts became sloppier but slower as you felt your self coming up.

“Fuck Hamzah! M’close-“ you whined loudly.

“Me too baby!” He replied as he took all his force thrusting into you harder as your body shook in pleasure coming all over his cock as he moaned nipping at your neck and kissing your lips again. Your hips melted onto him as he came into you, filling you in his cum. He’s missed you very much. He missed how badly you’d squirm under him.

“Fuckkk!” He moaned as he rubbed your back, “your so fucking good baby, I did it all for your baby.” He added kissing your forehead as he rubbed your back.

You both got dressed as you made your way back to your shared house with a victory and more energy in stored for tonight. |

-

(hey yall, i hope you guys enjoyed this fic coz it was very rushed i just very much wanted it posted asap to feed my baby birds (you guys 🫰) + this isn’t spelled check so sorry for any errors!)

[feyhunter78]

Sunbathing and Wedding Rings

Description: It’s a sunny day and the crew has some downtime which means sunbathing, repairs, relaxing, and probably some flirting between you and Sanji.

You’re laid out on the deck of the ship sunbathing wearing a bathing suit so pristinely white even Zeff would be proud. A bright blue towel beneath you protecting your perfect skin from the wood planks, the sunlight caressing your body gently. Large round sunglasses cover your beautiful eyes, your hair splayed out in the towel above you to avoid getting sweat in it, he presumes.

You’re gorgeous. A vision in the sunlight, the very picture of summer and all its goodness, no a goddess, you’re a goddess of summer, and beauty, and gentleness, and countless other things, he could spend hours rattling off everything he admires about you.

“You know you’re being a total perv, right?” Zoro’s dry drawl cuts right through his inner monologue as he leans on the railing alongside him, jerking his head towards you.

“Am not.” He argues, tapping his cigarette on the railing, the ash getting caught by the sea breeze and sending it floating towards you—oh shit.

“Sanji wherever you are, I swear that better not be a cigarette I smell.” You yell, not even getting up from your reclined position or looking around, confident your voice would reach him wherever he was on the ship. You could be loud when you wanted to be.

“Sorry, princess.” He calls back, snuffing off the cigarette with a smile, returning to basking in your beauty. You care about him, about his health.

“Total perv.” Zoro reiterates.

“I’m looking, not perving, and we’re married, so I think it’s actually my legal duty to look.” He says, holding up his left hand, the gold band around his finger glinting in the sun.

“Yeah, one of these days she’s going to remember she only married you to get out of that shit town of hers and get your marriage annulled like it was supposed to be months ago.”

Sanji feels a stab of sorrow at the thought but waves it aside, just as he waves Zoro’s words aside. “It’s alright to be jealous my friend, but don’t worry you’ll find someone to put up with your temper and your weird hair, and obsession with swords that surely isn’t compensation for someth—”

His words cut off when Zoro elbows him in the gut before walking off. “Go back to perving, Waiter, I’m gonna find Nami.”

“Hey y/n can you tell me if this spyglass looks like it’s mounted straight?” Luffy called down from the helm.

“Yeah, sure, one second.” You say, sitting up and tying the flimsy black cloth you use to cover up around your hips, the fabric draping down to the tops of your thighs, covering your ass much to his delight and sorrow. Maybe Zoro was right, he is perving a little.

You stand and take a few steps back, then move more towards the center of the ship, looking up at Luffy. “Maybe move it a little to the left, no my left, no Luffy that’s still your left, okay, okay yeah stop there, that’s perfect.”

“Thanks y/n.” Luffy says, giving you a wide smile, turning to Ussop, the two of them securing the stand for the large spyglass.

You return the smile and return to your towel, pausing a second to stretch your arms over your head, going up on your toes as you do so, the fabric rising higher on your legs.

You’ll kill him one of these days, he just knows it.

“Sanji! I didn’t see you there.” You say, moving until you’re standing below where he’s leaning on the railing, looking up at him, sunglasses now perched atop your head.

“Just enjoying the view.” He says, the words coming out much more flirtatious than he intended.

You giggle and toy with the edge of your coverup. “Oh yeah?”

He swallows hard. “Yeah, ocean is really beautiful today.”

“Just the ocean?” You ask, batting your eyelashes at him, the sun giving you an almost halo, your skin glistening. You’re like a siren, and he’s completely helpless to your spell.

“Well, the ocean and a few other things.” He says smoothly, miraculously finding his footing once more.

You pout up at him, and drag his name out, each syllable getting special attention. “Sanji, don’t tease.”

He chuckles and shakes his head, smiling fondly down at you. “Come on now, sweetheart, you know there’s nothing prettier than you.”

“You didn’t say pretty, you said beautiful.” You remind him, arms crossed—unintentionally or maybe intentionally, he isn’t quite sure—pushing up your breasts.

He clicks his tongue and turns around, resting his back on the railing, trying to compose himself. “Yeah, you’re right, I did.”

You’re up the stairs and in front of him before he can take out a new cigarette, foot tapping impatiently as you glare at him ineffectually. “Sanji, you’re being mean.”

“To a beautiful woman like you? Never.”

You roll your eyes, arms crossed again.

“There’s nothing and no one more beautiful than you, y/n.” He smiles softly, heart pounding in his chest at the way you beam at his words. “No one more spoiled, either.” He continues, chucking your chin playfully. “You really are a princess.”

“Yeah, your princess, remember?” You hold up your hand just as he did to Zoro, your matching band catching the light a little more, the flowery pattern engraved along the band clear in the midday sun. “Don’t act like you had no part to play in making me this way.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I do believe you were like this when I got you.”

“Got me?” You laugh, your nose scrunched up in disbelief. “I guess that’s one way to describe it.”

It was the easiest way. Though he could recount your meetings and marriage in excruciating detail, from the moment he first saw you, bumping into him in a froofy nightmare of tulle and silk, to your tear filled eyes begging him to help you, to marry you so you could escape the man your parents picked for you, so you could fulfill your dream of setting sail and seeing the world. Luffy had heard the word dream and jumped at the chance to help, all but ordering Sanji to marry you, and strangely he didn’t feel like protesting.

And to the moment the priest told him he could kiss the bride, and you grabbed his face and kissed him in the nick of time. You swore the marriage could be annulled in the next town over, and thanked him profusely for his help, as you followed Luffy back to the Going Merry, your hand still in Sanji’s the other holding up your many skirts so you could run without tripping.

Month after month had gone by, town after town and yet neither of you mentioned annulments, letting each dock get smaller and smaller as the ship sailed away, the rings staying firmly on your fingers. He tries not to think about what that all means, and focuses back in on you.

“A bargain deal, really.” You joke, still smiling at him, still holding your hand up.

“A priceless treasure.” He counters, taking your hand and pressing it to his lips.

A flustered expression overtakes you, and you giggle, ducking your head to hide your smile. “You flatter me.”

“It is only fitting to flatter a princess.”

“Barf, gross, enough with the mushy stuff. Sanji, what’s for dinner?” Luffy asks, hanging halfway over the railing above them.

You bite your lip and look away, trying not to laugh. “Yeah Sanji what’s for dinner? The captain’s hungry.”

“Dinner isn’t for another five hours.” He says, trying hard not to laugh too. It’s a fine compliment from Luffy, his constant desire to eat what he cooks, but of course today it came at the wrong time.

“But the captain’s hungry, Sanji.” You smile, saying his name in a singsong tone that should be annoying, but when it’s you it’s not.

“See, y/n gets it.” Luffy says, dropping down onto the deck and slinging an arm over your shoulders, giving him a thumbs up. “I’ll take her away so you can concentrate, don’t worry.”

“I can concentrate just fine with her around.” He protests.

But you’re already walking off with Luffy, waving to him over your shoulder with a teasing grin, your ring catching the light again. “See you at dinner.”