#suggestive sponge

[zippocreed501]

Joy Harmon as Lucille (The Girl)

Cool Hand Luke (1967)

I've talked about this film with others and found it strange that many couldn't remember this car washing scene. Then I realised that they had only seen it on TV, where the film has been edited for the time of day of broadcast. So beware of watching films on daytime TV. Classic cinema means nothing when faced with a suggestive soapy sponge.

[hansluvs]

close to you — itoshi s.

i burn for you, and you don't even know my name - in which you make your debut into the ton expecting to find true love, and instead catch the attention of piercing teal eyes belonging to the man you swore to never acquaint yourself with.

wc: 3.1k+ (ongoing)

tags: regency au, itoshi sae x f!reader, strangers to lovers, (eventual) mutual pining, slow burn, sae is a little shit in every universe i will die on this hill

notes: took me a few months to get back to this but here it finally is! very excited for this idea it's been fermenting in my brain for a while

masterlist | next part

Your debut into the ton was certainly an anti-climactic one. Being the youngest of your five sisters, who had all been whisked away and married by the time you were of-age, everyone's attention had already moved on from your family's matches and preyed on the newer debutantes that had come in from further districts.

However, a debut that had certainly shocked the ton was that of the oldest Itoshi brother, who was the son of the King's advisor and had been close friends with the crown prince along with his brother since they were children. The entire society had been waiting for him to pursue a marriage match since his younger brother, Rin, had tied the knot with a very fortunate debutante the previous season.

Itoshi Sae had the reputation of being quite the rake, and was notorious for never taking the same woman to bed twice. He was very easily bored, as he put it, always looking for a new source of entertainment. Which consequently swiped marriage right off the table, as words from the mamas claim he's never so much as considered it.

Yet there he is now, standing beside his mother and younger brother, nursing a glass of lemonade. His teal eyes are carefully flitting around the room, seemingly cold and calculated. You hoped they would not meet yours.

As much as the alluring man across you had piqued your interest, you were determined to achieve your one and only goal for this season: to find a love match, and ultimately decided that Itoshi Sae was certainly not the man for the job.

A gentle hand had rested on your shoulder and you turn around to find Mikage Reo, the only son of the Viscount Mikage, and your dearest friend.

"Nervous?" he asked, a cheeky grin on his charming face usually reserved for poking fun at you.

"Hardly. I find it's quite boring, you promised me more fun than this," huffing out a sigh, you take another sip from your lemonade. 

Reo lets out an amused chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners in the way you've always admired. You've harbored an unrequited crush on him for quite some time now, ever since their family had moved in across the street from yours and he had introduced himself with that same toothy grin he now flashed at you.

"It is uncharacteristically dull tonight, I suppose. Would you fancy a dance instead?"

Reo would have been the perfect match for you; attractive, intelligent, humorous, and not to mention from one of the most well-off families in town. You two got along well, and it was no question your shared affection for one another.

"And risk Seishiro shooting another rude remark at me? Thank you, but I'll pass."

If only he had not been in love with your older brother, Seishiro - who had returned his feelings, which you only found out this summer. Reo shoots you a scolding look, as if to warn you about someone overhearing your conversation. It was, after all, inappropriate for two men to be involved romantically within the ton.

Which was why your brother was standing a few feet away from the pair of you, a bored expression on his face as he pretended to listen to whatever Mr. Bachira was talking excitedly to him about.

Reo hurriedly scribbles down his name into your dance card then gently pulls you onto the large ballroom floor. "Don't worry about him, he's not the one making their debut. Besides, someone needs to dance with you in order to gain the attention of other suitors."

As the orchestra plays another lively tune, you scoff at your friend. "I don't need you to attract suitors! I can do that perfectly by myself, thank you very much."

"Really?" Reo smiles, lilac eyes not pointed at you but at somewhere, someone in the crowd instead. "So, do you reckon that Mr. Itoshi Sae would have noticed you had I not intervened?"

"What are you on about?"

As the pair of you turn, you finally see what Reo had meant.

Itoshi Sae, with his piercing teal eyes and indifferent expression, had been watching you move across the dance floor the entire time. Like a hawk.

The two of you meet each other's gaze and a shudder runs through you as Reo twirls you away from him. A sudden, awful feeling sinks into the pit of your stomach, and it seems that you were entirely incorrect.

This season would be far from boring, as you'd come to find out.

[lunaetis]

when it comes to physical intimacy or sexual activities, yínyuè is considered quite inexperienced. this is by no means to say that she's innocent or unaware of sexual attractions, but more on the front of her not having experienced it herself ( or if she had prior to her awakening, she had no recollection of it. ) she certainly knows about physical intimacy, of pleasure, and act of service / sexual acts as a whole, but she had never done that herself. to her, physical intimacy relates closely to trust, and for her to be desiring someone in that light would means she has developed a strong sense of trust for them.

her being inexperienced means that she'd be clumsy and awkward at first, but by no means she'd shy away from it and is actually quite a fast learner. she'd pick up cues and her partner's preference in things then follow through with her instincts. certainly a submissive lean, a pleaser and a giver in bed. she'd want her partner to feel good. it's a huge turn on for her if her partner reveals how much they want her or how good she's making them feel.

[une-sanz-pluis]

An interesting video excerpted from History Hit's documentary on the Battle of Shrewsbury discussing the treatment of the then-Prince Henry's arrow-wound.

[hiimcanadia]

Look at this little graduation gift my family got me 🥺 her coffee cup actually smells like coffee 🥺

[craig960114]

story by me (craig)

I are literature

In the quiet town of Doodleville, there lived a peculiar doodle named Craig. Craig was no ordinary sketch; he was a cat with a mission. Despite his simple appearance, Craig harbored ambitions far grander than his humble origins suggested.

From a young age, Craig possessed an insatiable curiosity and a keen intellect. While his peers contented themselves with idle doodling, Craig spent his days studying the world around him, absorbing knowledge like a sponge. He learned about history, politics, and the intricacies of human behavior, all from the confines of his paper realm.

As Craig grew older, his ambitions expanded. He yearned for something more than the confines of Doodleville. He dreamed of venturing beyond the borders of his sketchbook and making his mark on the wider world.

One fateful day, Craig's opportunity arrived in the form of a stray pencil left unattended on the edge of his page. With a mixture of determination and excitement, Craig seized the pencil and began to draw. He sketched a doorway leading out of Doodleville, and with a final flourish, he stepped through into the unknown.

The world outside was vast and full of wonders, but it was also fraught with danger. Undeterred, Craig embarked on a quest to carve out his own destiny. Along the way, he encountered a colorful cast of characters, from mischievous doodles to formidable adversaries.

Despite the challenges he faced, Craig never lost sight of his ultimate goal: to leave his mark on the world and reshape it according to his vision. With each obstacle overcome and each victory achieved, Craig grew stronger and more determined than ever before.

In the end, Craig's journey was not just about conquering the world, but about discovering his true self and realizing his full potential. As he stood atop the highest peak, surveying the realm he had conquered, Craig knew that his adventures were only just beginning. For Craig was not just a doodle; he was a legend in the making, destined for greatness beyond the confines of his paper kingdom.

[marsupials-of-mars]

It's funny how often Bill is described as a master manipulator, he's so smart that he knows what everyone is thinking and how to push their buttons.

Because he is SO BAD at manipulation!

The only reason he ever gets what he wants is because he can literally read and control minds. And historically, he is pretty shit at using what he learns in a productive way.

Every time he has a human partner, it's because they are obviously desperate for something he can provide. All he does is use the fact that he's a seemingly omniscient otherworldly being to gain ethos, and then tell them he can get them the thing they want.

These are not complicated concepts. Anyone with those inherent advantages could do that. And, historically, when the actual negotiations are up to him and he hasn't backed someone into a corner, he pretty immediately fumbles the bag.

Think of when he possessed that priest: he pitched his plans outright with zero tact and everyone in the room immediately refused and dedicated themselves to making sure he never got his way.

The pharoh DISPISED him, found him annoying and tried to banish him. The shaman caught wise pretty quick. Xgqrthx never even planned on helping him at any point. Every plan failed because of Bills own ineptitude, when all the cards were stacked in his favor!

The way he talked to Ford was disturbing and direct and entirely Bill-like. Ford was just a sponge for any flattery and happened to be into the way Bill spoke and left him rats and suggested murder because he is also abnormal.

Bill is bad at making friends, which is why he has just a few henchmaniacs he's gathered over billions of years.

People DO NOT LIKE HIM.

And he's in denial about that to an extent. He always thinks they'll be on his side once he reveals his true intentions. He always thinks they'll go for the promise of infinite power and destruction because who wouldn't?

Basically, for an immortal god who's had an unfathomably long time to practice social skills and can LITERALLY ENTER MINDS TO KNOW EXACTLY WHAT TO SAY... he's really, really bad at manipulation. And really, any sort of person to person connection.

[dksfml]

what would you do if I went to touch you now? - riki

pairing: younger!nishimura riki x older!reader genre: office romance, flirty niki, workplace tension, niki teaches you japanese. summary: despite your best efforts to maintain professionalism, the undeniable tension between you and riki makes it impossible to resist the connection growing between you. it doesn't help that he calls you "noona" at work. warnings: suggestive, kissing, implied smut word count: 2.7k

your professional relationship with riki had been straightforward when he first started. quiet and shy, he took careful notes during meetings, absorbing the work culture like a sponge. as his mentor, you were tasked with guiding him through the ropes, ensuring he understood the nuances of the company.

“make sure he knows what he’s doing,” your boss had instructed, handing you the responsibility like a personal mission. and you took it seriously. riki was younger by a few years, in need of your guidance. at first, he seemed timid, his questions asked in soft tones, his posture always slightly defensive, as if afraid of stepping out of line. you naturally fell into a nurturing role, steering him whenever he seemed unsure, offering advice when necessary. but as time passed, riki's confidence grew, along with a noticeable shift in your dynamic.

it started subtly—small changes in his attitude. his work improved dramatically, and soon he was strutting around with a smirk, leaning back in his chair like he owned the place. his newfound cockiness was relentless, even though you reminded him to stay focused.

“riki,” you sighed, standing by his desk, flipping through his presentation slides. “i told you to cross-reference these with last quarter’s data. this is incomplete.”

he leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin. “i was going to fix it, but i thought i’d leave some for you to correct, noona. keeps me humble.”

you narrowed your eyes, unamused. “this isn’t a game. you can’t slack off just because you’re comfortable. these clients are important, and if we don’t get this right, it’s on both of us.”

his grin faltered, but just as quickly, he masked it with a wink. “got it. i’ll fix it. but only if you promise to let me take you out for dinner when we nail this project.”

you shook your head, suppressing a smile. “this is serious. you missed an email i asked you to forward last week. and calling me ‘noona’ here at work? we need to keep this professional.”

riki straightened, the playful glint in his eyes dimming. “right,” he said, his voice softer. “i’ll keep it professional. but you can’t blame me for trying.”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but deep down, you felt a rush of excitement at his boldness. “i want those revisions by the end of the day, riki. and no more flirting until this is done.”

“yes, ma’am,” he replied, a mock salute on his part, and for the first time in weeks, there was no teasing in his tone.

now, the two of you were working on a critical project, preparing a proposal for a japanese client your company was eager to sign. it wasn’t just a regular pitch; this deal was huge—a make-or-break moment that could lead to long-term collaboration. you had thrown yourself into the task, familiarizing yourself with every detail of the project. but there was one problem: the language barrier. the client preferred to communicate in japanese, and while you had learned some phrases, you were nowhere near fluent.

that’s when it struck you—riki was fluent in japanese. you recalled him casually mentioning it one afternoon, and now that you needed the skill, you struck a deal with him: he’d tutor you in japanese after work, and in return, you’d ensure his involvement in the project didn’t go unnoticed by the higher-ups. a fair exchange, strictly professional, you told yourself.

later that night, during one of your lessons, the atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension. riki sat across from you, leaning forward as you practiced reading a passage. you stumbled over a phrase, and his sharp gaze caught your mistake.

“no,” he corrected, his voice low and firm, sending shivers down your spine. “it’s nihon, not nee-hon. you’re stressing the first syllable too much.”

his tone was both authoritative and teasing, igniting a spark of mischief that made your heart race. “let’s go over that phrase again,” he said, his voice soft yet commanding. you nodded, struggling to focus, but the heat radiating from his body made it impossible to think clearly.

“try it one more time, noona,” he urged, leaning in closer, his breath brushing against your ear. the closeness sent a jolt of electricity coursing through you, and you instinctively shifted, seeking a little more space.

“um, okay,” you stammered, trying to keep your composure, but the way he looked at you—a mix of amusement and something deeper—made your cheeks flush. “i’m trying.”

riki leaned in even closer, his shoulder pressing against yours. “you’re not trying hard enough,” he teased, a smirk playing on his lips. “what’s the matter? feeling a little shy?”

“shy? no,” you protested, your voice barely above a whisper. “i just—”

“just what?” he interrupted, his gaze piercing into yours, his confidence unwavering. “can’t handle a little pressure?”

your heart raced at the challenge in his voice. “at work, i’m your superior, riki. you need to respect that.”

“respect?” he echoed, leaning back just enough to gauge your reaction. “or maybe you need to realize that i’m not the junior anymore. you’re the one who seems to struggle with that.” his eyes danced with mischief, and you felt a thrill race through you.

“riki,” you warned, but your voice faltered, unable to hide the quiver of excitement that danced beneath your words.

“tell me you’re not interested,” he challenged, leaning closer, their faces mere inches apart. the air thickened with tension, and you could feel his warmth enveloping you. “because i know you feel it too.”

before you could respond, the sudden power cut plunged the office into darkness, leaving only the dim emergency lights flickering above. your heart pounded, and the adrenaline heightened every sensation.

“well, i guess that’s the end of tonight’s lesson,” you attempted to joke, but your voice trembled, revealing your unease.

riki’s eyes glinted in the low light, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “no, we’re not done.” he leaned closer again, his hand brushing against yours, sending a wave of heat up your arm.

you pulled back slightly, heart racing. “riki, this isn’t—”

“isn’t what?” he whispered, his voice a low murmur that sent a thrill down your spine. “we both know there’s something between us.”

you opened your mouth to protest, but the urgency in his gaze silenced you. your breath hitched at the finality in his tone. the professional barrier you had carefully constructed was crumbling.

“we should go,” you muttered, fumbling to gather your things. but riki reached out, his hand brushing against yours, halting your movements.

“we could go to your place,” he suggested, his voice dangerously low. “finish the lesson there.”

the implications hung heavily between you. you met his gaze, searching for any trace of the playful riki you’d trained, the one who’d always danced around the line but never crossed it. but there was nothing playful in his expression now—only a raw intensity that made your skin prickle.

you nodded, unable to trust your voice, and within moments, you were heading out of the office together. the ride to your apartment was silent, the weight of what was about to happen sitting thick between you.

the door to your apartment clicked shut behind you, and the familiar surroundings only heightened the surreal nature of what was happening. you barely had time to turn on a light before riki was in front of you, his presence magnetic. the silence between you was thick with everything left unsaid, but his gaze—intense, burning—spoke volumes.

for a moment, neither of you moved, both caught in the tension that had been building for weeks. his eyes swept over your face, lingering on your lips as if contemplating his next move. you stood your ground, refusing to back away even as your pulse raced in anticipation.

“you’re still thinking about work, aren’t you?” his voice was low, teasing. he stepped closer, just close enough that the warmth of his body radiated through the space between you. “always so professional, noona.”

you swallowed, feeling the flutter of nerves in your stomach. “someone has to keep things in check,” you replied, though your voice faltered just slightly, betraying the tug of desire that made your skin prickle with anticipation.

he chuckled, soft and deep. “maybe it’s time you stopped thinking for once.”

before you could react, his hand slid up your arm, fingers curling gently around the nape of your neck as he pulled you toward him. his lips met yours in a kiss that was far from the playful teasing you were used to. it was hungry, intense, like he had been waiting for this moment as long as you had. the taste of him was intoxicating, and before you realized it, you were kissing him back with just as much need.

your back hit the wall softly as his body pressed into yours, every inch of him enveloping you, filling the space around you. his hands trailed down your sides, fingers ghosting over the fabric of your blouse before dipping under the hem, finding bare skin.

“riki,” you whispered, breaking the kiss for a breath, but your voice was breathless, needy. his name left your lips like a confession.

his lips barely left yours as he responded, his voice a raspy whisper. “you keep acting like you’re in control, noona,” he murmured against your skin, his hands now slipping around your waist, pulling you even closer. “but i don’t think you are anymore.”

the challenge in his voice made something inside you snap. you wanted to respond, to assert yourself as you always had, but the heat between you was overwhelming, and before you could muster a reply, his lips were on your neck, pressing soft, hot kisses along your skin that left you trembling.

“i’m not the kid you used to boss around,” he murmured between kisses, his breath warm against your ear. “you can’t keep treating me like i don’t know what i’m doing.”

his hands slid lower, and you gasped as his touch became more insistent, his fingers deftly working to unbutton your blouse. his lips returned to yours, and this time, the kiss was slower, deeper, as if he wanted to savor every second. there was nothing hurried about the way his hands roamed your body, exploring with a confidence that made your head spin.

you tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, your fingertips brushing over the smooth lines of his chest. he was handsome, undeniably so, but up close like this—underneath the layers of work clothes and the carefully constructed professionalism—he was breathtaking. your hands trailed over his skin, feeling the tautness of his muscles, the way his breath hitched slightly as you touched him.

he grinned against your lips as you pressed your body into his, feeling the hardness of his form against you. “see?” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “you can’t even resist me now, noona.”

you wanted to argue, to assert your authority as you always had, but the way he looked at you—like he knew exactly how to unravel you—left you powerless.

his hands made quick work of the rest of your clothes, every movement deliberate, controlled. he was no longer the shy, uncertain junior you had once guided. here, in the dim light of your apartment, riki was commanding, confident, and he knew exactly what he was doing.

he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom, laying you down with a gentleness that contrasted with the heat of the moment. and then he was over you, his hands exploring, his lips trailing over your skin in ways that made your breath hitch. you responded in kind, your fingers digging into his back, pulling him closer, needing him closer.

when his mouth found yours again, it was softer this time, but no less intense. his touch was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of your body, every gasp and shiver he elicited. you couldn’t help the sounds that escaped you, soft whimpers that only seemed to spur him on.

“don’t think just because i’m calling you ‘noona’ that i’ll let you keep this up,” he teased, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “you’re not the only one who can take charge.”

the air between you was charged with desire, thick with the tension that had been simmering for so long. every touch, every breath shared between you was electric, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. you had never imagined this—being here, with him, in this way—but now that you were, there was no going back.

and when he finally claimed you, when the last barriers between you fell away, it was like everything else disappeared. there was no work, no professionalism, no rules—just you and him, bodies moving together in perfect sync, lost in the heat of the moment.

the world outside faded into oblivion, and all that remained was the sound of your mingled breaths, the feeling of his skin against yours, the way he made you feel as though you were the only two people who mattered.

and in that moment, nothing else did.

“i still do want to take you on a dinner date though," riki said, breaking the silence with a light-hearted lilt that hung in the air like a sweet melody.

you pulled back slightly, your eyes searching his, as if seeking confirmation that this wasn’t just a fleeting fantasy. “really?” the question slipped out before you could hold it back, a mix of surprise and delight dancing in your voice.

“yeah, really,” he replied, his smile growing wider. “just you and me. somewhere nice. maybe italian? i hear they have the best pasta in town.”

his words wrapped around you like a warm embrace, grounding you in the moment. you could feel your heart quicken, the anticipation stirring something deep within you. “that sounds perfect. when do you want to go?”

“how about friday?” he suggested, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “i’ll even let you choose the place.”

a laugh escaped your lips, the sound light and airy. “i hope you’re ready for my pick then. i might take you to the best italian place in town, and you’ll be regretting it the next day.”

riki chuckled, the warmth of his laughter making your heart flutter. “i’ll take that risk. besides, i have a feeling it’ll be worth it.”

in that moment, as the soft glow of the streetlights seeped through the window, you felt the weight of the week lift, replaced by the promise of something beautiful on the horizon. but just as the excitement began to settle in, you were pulled back to reality by the sound of your phone vibrating against the table, a harsh reminder of the world outside this blissful bubble.

you glanced at the screen, and the moment slipped slightly, the glow of notifications flickering like an unwelcome reminder. it was a message from a friend, checking in about the weekend plans.

“sorry, i should probably—” you started, but riki gently took your hand, grounding you again.

“hey,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “you can always reply later. right now, let’s focus on us.”

you looked back at him, the connection reigniting. the moment stretched out like an unbroken thread between you, the world beyond the walls of this room fading once more into insignificance. you nodded, your heart soaring as you settled back into the warmth of his gaze, the future bright and inviting.

“so, friday it is?” you confirmed, your voice steady and full of excitement.

“definitely,” riki replied, a grin breaking across his face, as if he had just won a victory.

and just like that, the evening unfolded around you, a delicate balance of playful teasing and soft confessions, a new chapter beginning to write itself in the quiet spaces between your laughter.

[sabertoothwalrus]

whats tiger tiger? i know its a webcomic but like whats the genre/basic plot blurb and/or summary? it sounds really interesting!

I already typed up this summary on a different post:

it’s about a girl who steals her twin brother’s entire ship and crew so she can travel the world to study sea sponges. it has really cool worldbuilding and religion, and utilizes paleontology in its creature design. I’d highly recommend it to anyone that likes dungeon meshi!!

it’s also incredibly bisexual and even has an eldritch demon of chaos who is a tits-out nonbinary lesbian sometimes.

here are some out-of-context snippets to give you a taste...

You can read it here, but the first volume is also available as a physical copy! It is ongoing, and currently in the middle of it's third (and final?) volume.

WARNING it does have very minor nudity and some suggestive themes. I always forget to mention that before recommending it to people dkjfhgfjd

[lilacs-stars]

moon + tides

this is part 1, read part 2 here! pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) SUMMARY: you, ariel's daughter, find yourself in a strange relationship with the one and only infamous pirate captain, who's absolutely obsessed with you GENRE: yandere, a bit of angst, some comforting fluff here and there, especially at the end CW: a few mentions of violence, someone walking a plank, mentions of drowning, some suggestive material, nothing too graphic though WC: 4.2k

A/N: this req was really fun to write! I might have gotten a bit carried away, heh...this part includes the backstory of how you two got together and the first part of the req, and the second part will include the rest of it. hope you guys enjoy reading this cause I definitely put some hard work into it lol. also please give me feedback and suggestions, I'd really like to know your thoughts!

If you could go back, would you change what happened?

This is something that you often ask yourself. 

You think about that fateful day frequently. It was the summer before your first year at Merlin Academy. You had finally convinced your parents, the famed mermaid Ariel and her Prince Eric, to let you go for a swim unsupervised. Being half-mermaid, half-human allowed you to transform back and forth at will. And although life on land was pretty good, your heart always ached to go back to the sea, to feel the cold, salty water as it engulfs you. To race along the reefs, tail swishing back and forth, allowing you to reach speeds far past what your human form can do. To leisurely swim amongst the many species of fish and plants that created the world of the ocean. To go back home.

Your parents had already gone over the rules with you hundreds of time, to the point where you could recite each one of them word for word: “Don’t go past the boundaries,” “Don’t approach any animals you don’t know,” “Don’t go so deep where you can’t see any light,” “Come out at the first sign of bad weather,” and, most importantly, “Do not, under any circumstances, interact with any humans.”

Your mother may be renowned for rescuing a stranger from the unrelenting grasps of the sea—if she hadn’t, you wouldn’t even be here right now—but that was a very rare case. Far more often than not, mermaid interactions with humans out on the waters ended up in the mermaid being tortured, held hostage, or even killed.

You knew the rules by heart, and yet, maybe it was because of your young age, you still broke them. You weren’t really aware of your actions in the moment; one second, you were swimming alongside a pod of dolphins, racing against the currents. The next, you heard loud voices and realized that almost directly above you, yet still a good few dozen meters away, was some sort of ship.

You had ducked down next to a big sponge, peering up apprehensively. It was at that moment you realized that you were far outside of the boundaries set for you by your parents. You should have turned back, should have swam back home, but there was something about the ship, something that intrigued you so much it forced you to stay in place.

A few moments passed, and seeing as there was no commotion, you let your curiosity get the better of you. After all, that ship shouldn’t even have been out there. Slowly, you crept closer and closer to the surface, making sure to remain in the shadows. The noises were becoming clearer; you could make out people’s voices now. But they still weren’t sharp enough for you to understand what they were saying.

Finally, you took the risk and poked your head out of the water near the rear of the ship. The sight before you elicited a sharp gasp, and made you wish you had just gone back when you still had the chance. 

Extended from the side of the ship was a long, wooden plank. Standing on one side of it (the safe end), was a man, gagged, blindfolded, and bound. He looked to be no older than forty, with a scraggly beard and ripped clothes.

A pirate.

Another figure emerged, walking to the edge of the deck. Your reflexes caused you to duck down quickly, so only your eyes were barely above the water. This figure was much younger, with dark brown hair parted neatly and angular features twisted into a wicked smile. He donned a maroon blazer that covered a white shirt with an upturned collar. Something in his left hand shined brilliantly under the sun’s bright rays.

The younger figure laughed, but not in the way one would laugh at a funny joke. He unsheathed a cutlass from his side, using it to poke the back of the man on the plank. 

“You see, Mr. Jones? This is what happens when you cross the most feared pirate captain in all the lands!” the young figure roared as he yanked off the older man’s blindfold, revealing to him his fate. The fear and panic that spread across the man’s face has been forever etched into your mind, even to this day.

You heard the man beg and plea for mercy, watched as every move he made caused the plank to sway even more violently. The pirate captain simply laughed, his crew along with him. Finally, when you suppose he tired of hearing the man grovel, you watched in terror as the captain gave the man a good kick in the back, finally sending him over the edge.

Suddenly, it was like the world was spinning in slow motion. The man plummeting off the wooden platform, falling, falling, falling. His screams muffled by the cloth around his mouth. Then, all too soon, he made contact with the water with a loud splash. 

He sank quickly, devoured by the ocean’s waters within the blink of an eye. Your young, distraught face watched as a few bubbles rose to the surface. Then nothing. All that remained of the man’s existence, all there was to give proof that he had ever even been there, were a few ripples in the water.

That was it.

You were frozen in shock. How–what–why? Your brain could barely string together a comprehensive sentence. All you were sure of was the feeling inside you. You couldn’t quite put it into words, could barely even understand it. But it made your tail ache to move, made you feel as if you simply couldn’t stay in one place any longer.

You dove beneath the surface, frantically swimming towards the direction where you saw the man go under. You kept looking around, searching, but to no avail. You decided to dive deeper, swimming lower and lower until the water around you was near pitch-black. You were growing more and more panicked by the second, because every second you wasted was another second the man grew closer to death.

Finally, you caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of your eye. Hope flaring, you darted towards it, the figure becoming clearer the closer you got.

It was him.

You reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt to prevent him from sinking farther. His eyes were shut and he wasn’t breathing, but you could still hear a heartbeat. There was still time left.

Wrapping your arms around him, you started the difficult journey back to land. Thankfully, you knew of a small island not too far from here. Swimming with the added weight of a fully grown man was incredibly difficult, especially for a young mermaid, but you persisted. After all, this was his life on the line.

You swam as hard as fast as you could, and thankfully, by some blessing from the heavens, found a warm water current going the direction you were. You let it carry you, the rushing stream multiplying your efforts. Finally, after what seemed like hours but must have only been a couple of minutes, you reached the island.

Letting the wave wash you up on shore, you settled the man down on the soft sand the first chance you got. You rolled him to his front, which was quite the endeavor itself. His heartbeat had grown more shallow, but it was still there. There was still hope.

Using the skills your mother had taught you, you started to nurse the man back to health using your melodic voice. Ever since you were young, she had explained to you the gift bestowed upon mermaids, the power of healing through song. She taught you to sing before you could walk, and it was the one thing that you were sure you could do right.

As you sang your strange and melodious tune, it finally occurred to you that you were breaking the most sacred of rules. Not only were you interacting with a stranger, you were coaxing him back to life. Like mother, like daughter, you thought. I suppose healing strangers who were drowning at sea runs in my blood.

The only caveat to your healing powers is that it takes quite some time to have its full effects. You don’t know how long you sat on the beach, but it had been quite some time. You probably would have been there for much longer had it not been for the boom voice that sounded behind you, waking you from your trance of song.

“Well, I’ll be. If it isn’t a mermaid.”

You practically jumped out of your fins as you turned around, startled beyond words. There, towering above you, was the evil pirate captain you saw earlier. He was even younger than you had previously thought. In fact, he couldn’t be much older than you. You wondered for a fleeting moment how a kid like that could command an entire ship full of grown—and scary-looking—men, but decided you have bigger matters at hand to worry about.

A few members of his crew lurked behind the captain, and you could see a small lifeboat docked to the ground near the coastline. Further beyond that, his ship swayed in the ocean waves, dark against the bright horizon.

You followed the pirate’s gaze down to your tail, which was still out. You silently cursed yourself for forgetting to transform back into your human form, being too distracted by saving the man to pay attention to your own safety.

You wanted to yell at the cruel pirate for trying to kill this man. No matter who he was, what he had done, he didn’t deserve to die. At least not like that. But the words got caught in your throat, so while a war raged inside your mind, you were completely quiet on the outside, simply staring up at the man with wide doe eyes.

“You have a lovely voice,” the man said, with a tone that you wouldn’t quite imagine a killer using. He must have overheard me sing earlier, you thought to yourself. “Tell me, little mermaid, who taught you to sing?”

“M-my mother,” you replied weakly, your voice far more meager and small than you wanted it to be. You were still staring up at him, afraid of what he’d do to you.

“Your mother? Well, that’s quite interesting.” The captain raised his left hand to scratch at his chin, which is when you realized that it wasn’t a hand at all. Instead of a hand was a curved metal hook, with a sharp point gleaming at the end. So that must be the shiny thing I saw earlier, you thought.

“Oh, where are my manners?” laughed the pirate abruptly. “My name is Captain James Hook, leader of the Jolly Roger. And you are?”

You blinked, almost forgetting your own name. If it were a less tense moment than this, you would have laughed at the fact that his name is rather befitting for him. “Y/N,” you respond.

“Y/N…Now, where have I heard that name before?” He tapped his chin with his hook again.

“Sir, that’s the name of Princess Ariel’s daughter,” one of the big, meaty pirates behind him answered in a gruff voice.

“That’s right!” Hook exclaimed. “You’re the mermaid’s daughter. You know, rumor has it you’ll be joining me at Merlin’s Academy in the fall, is that right?”

For some reason, your voice seemed to not work anymore, so you settled for nodding. Join him? you pondered. You didn’t know that he was also a student at the school you were planning to attend.

Hook started pacing along the beach, arms crossed with his hooked hand extended, deep in thought. You watched him, fear growing by the second. A sly smirk spread across his face, which only served to fuel the flames of your worry. 

“You know, you directly defied my command by saving that man,” he started. Slowly. Deliberately. Choosing every word precisely and carefully, like a shark circling its prey. “Do you even know why I made him walk the plank?” You shook your head no, the panic in you reaching record heights.

“That man”—he vaguely gestures towards the unconscious body laying on the beach with his hook—“stole an entire week’s worth of rations from my ship. An entire week’s worth of food and rum for an entire crew. Had he gotten away with it, we likely would have starved to death out at sea. Does he seem so innocent now, little mermaid? So worth saving?”

Again, you shook your head no. Although you agreed he definitely wasn’t an innocent man, you still didn’t see making him walk the plank a justifiable punishment. Despite your thoughts, you kept your mouth shut. Angering the captain further was not going to do you any good.

“Now, if anyone else had done something like this, I wouldn’t hesitate to cut their head right off,” Hook said menacingly, and with a swish, unsheathed his sword once again. You flinched—hard—and scrambled to back away from him. 

Hook took note of this, and, sheathing his sword, crouched down to get on the same level as you. “But don’t worry, little mermaid. I won’t hurt you. You see, you’ve piqued my interest. Plus, it would do me no favors to have a little girl’s blood on my hands.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding. So he’s not going to kill me, right?

“But, alas, you can’t leave unpunished, now, can you?” he added. Your eyes grew impossibly wider, your entire body shaking in fear. This was it. He was going to kill you, or do something equally worse.

“I demand”—you already felt a tear slip down your cheek—“that you write to me for the remainder of the summer.”

Wait, what?

“W-write?” you asked in disbelief. “As in…”

“Letters,” Hook finished for you. “Write me letters. I’ll give you the mailing address of the Jolly Roger. Write me everyday, and I’ll promise I’ll write you back whenever we dock. How does that sound?”

“O-okay,” you reply, still taken aback by the peculiar, and far more lenient than you’d expected, request. That was all you had to do? Write letters? As punishment for saving the life of someone he’d ordered to die? You must be dreaming.

“Oh, and,” Hook said, voice lowered as he leaned in close to you, until he was just a hair’s breadth away from your ear. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, his alluring scent of salty winds and something richer, deeper, filling your lungs. “I look forward to seeing you in the fall. Don’t forget me, my little mermaid.”

With that, he stood up, smoothing out the lines on his pants. “You wouldn’t happen to need a ride back home, would you, love?”

You shook your head no, too terrified of him changing his mind to spend another moment in his presence. You glanced back at the man lying behind you, still unconscious. “W-what about him? What will you do with him?” you managed to choke out, somehow finding your voice again.

Hook pondered this for a long minute, before finally answering, “He can live.” You let out a shaky breath. “But only because of you, little mermaid. And only this time. You go against my wishes again, and trust me, your punishment will be far more severe.”

And with that, he went back to his ship and sailed away.

You still muse about that day, thinking how different things would have been if you had changed just one little thing.

You kept your promise of writing him letters, too afraid to know what would happen when you had to inevitably face him in the fall to break it. At first, they started out simple. Ordinary recounts of your day, your favorite things, what you liked to do. As the weeks passed, you started writing more personal letters. How you felt about certain things or certain people, including your parents. You never spoke a word of that fateful day to them, knowing that you’d be grounded for life and forbidden from swimming ever again if they caught even a whiff of the danger you had put yourself in. 

Hook kept his promise, too. He wrote you back, although it was far less frequent than your letters. Even though he kept his responses short and concise, you always ended up hearing his voice in your head as you read his notes. You soon found yourself checking your mailbox daily, even getting to know the mailman rather well. The rush of dopamine you got every time you opened it to find a letter awaiting you was unmatched; you would always run upstairs to your room, lock the door, and pour over the note. Reading every line, every word over and over again, committing them to memory. 

You don’t know why you enjoyed these little letters so much. Maybe it was the thrill of having a secret that no one else knew of, or the absence of your usual loneliness every time you were reminded that somewhere out there, across the seas, was someone awaiting your letters, reading them, and writing back to you. Whatever it was, your heart started to form an emotional attachment to him without you even realizing it. 

Unbeknownst to you, that had been his exact plan all along.

It’s safe to say that once you started school at Merlin Academy, Hook’s—or James’s, as he insisted on you calling him—grip on you only grew. Things started out pretty normal: light conversations in class and stolen looks exchanged across the hall, mostly initiated by him. After the first few weeks passed, things between you two only grew. Secret meetings during lunch hours, rendezvous after school, and small gifts exchanged between the two of you. From there, it became brushing your hands together whenever you passed by each other, soft pecks on the cheek or forehead where there were prying eyes, and more passionate kisses when the two of you finally found time to be alone.

Truth be told, you don’t really know what you two are now. Normally, you would consider two people that partake in such actions to be courting, and you kind of assume you are. But James has never said anything about a relationship to you, and in all honesty, you’re too afraid to ask him. You feel terribly confused at his intentions towards you; on the one hand, he approaches you every day without fail, even if you try to ignore him or when your schedules don’t match up. Somehow, he always finds a way. On the other hand, he never asked you to be his lover, never even vaguely mentioned anything of the sorts. So, you decided, with a heavy heart, to not be too confident and consider yourself his partner. And unfortunately, that meant that he wasn’t yours, either.

Really, you never meant to grow so involved with the bastard pirate that threatened to kill you on the beach that day. But for some strange reason, instead of treating you coldly like he did everyone else, especially the other hero kids, he was softer with you. Considerate, even. You had half-expected him to want nothing to do with you after your first few interactions, but he kept seeking you out. You often opened your locker to a note inside, or entered your dorm to find a letter slipped beneath the door.

Today was one of those days. You had gotten a note telling you to wait for him in your usual place in the evening, after classes. So here you are, waiting, staring at the water fountain in the courtyard. You’ve always been transfixed by the way the water spurts out the center and splashes all around. It seems that whenever you’re alone with your thoughts, they always end up back to that fateful day you met James, and everything that’s happened since.

“Wait for me long, my little mermaid?” a deep voice whispers in your ear from behind. You jump only a little, far more used to James sneaking up on you now than you used to be. For some reason, it seems he loves to startle you by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in close from behind, or speaking softly in your ear.

You twirl around, a delighted expression on your face, although you try to mask it with a feigned annoyance. “And if I say I did?”

“Well then, I’d have to find a way to make it up to you then, wouldn’t I, darling?” he purrs, using his hook to spin you around in his arms so you’re face-to-face. His lips make his way to yours, pulling you in for a slow, sensual kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his head closer to yours, not able to get enough of his touch. 

The feeling of his skin against yours ignites something in you, and you find your mouth opening to give him more access as a soft whimper escapes your lips. One hand reaches into his hair, tugging at it gently from the base of his head, while the other one trails down the front of his shirt.

James leans into you even further, your bodies flush against each other now, as he deepens the kiss. You find yourself leaning against the edge of the water fountain, the cool sprinkles providing a welcomed contrast to your heating-up bodies.

Once you’ve completely lost your breath, you pull away just slightly, a love-drunk smile on your face. “You had a request for me?” you whisper, panting, eyes full of adoration for the man you were interlocked with. 

James breaks into a grin. A genuine one, not one of the smirks he flashes to uphold his patented suave demeanor. “Ah, yes, how could I forget, my love?”

He pulls further away to give you two enough room to breathe, yet keeping his good hand on the small of your back. “I was reminded today that it's been quite some time since I’ve heard your voice, my little mermaid.”

You give a little smile, deciding to mess with him a bit. “Whatever do you mean? You hear my voice every day. I mean, you’re even hearing it right now.”

James cocks his head to the side and raises a single eyebrow, clearly aware of your antics. “Your other voice, love.”

You giggle. “Fine, all right. Only for you,” you say, giving him a peck on the nose. 

You sit down on the ledge of the fountain, turning back to stare at the water again. Although it has been a long time since you stretched your tail and went for a swim, simply seeing the rushing water soothes you. It isn’t quite like being immersed in it, but it still gives you some semblance of comfort. 

You reach into the pool at the bottom, letting the cool water rush along your fingertips as you inhale a deep breath. Through your mermaid abilities, your voice twists into an otherworldly song, filling the space with a mellifluous sound. 

James takes a place on the ledge next to you, reaching into the water to hold your submerged hand. You don’t really feel it, too transfixed on the rushing waves. You don’t see the way James gazes at you, like you’re his entire world. The softness, the tenderness in his eyes, which he reserves for you only. He looks at you not as if you’re his sun, something too bright to ever stare directly at, something violent and explosive and harmful, but as if you’re his moon. 

As if you’re the figure he watches every night before he closes his eyes, and the one he wishes to see again when he wakes up. As if you’re the only thing he notices every time the darkness envelops him, your presence never falling off the pedestal he places it on in his mind. Never losing its worth. He looks at you, your soft glow and mesmerizing shimmer, as if you’re the only thing filling up the night sky. The stars and constellations pale in comparison to you, especially on your best nights, when you shine so magnificently. 

You are the moon, and he is the tide of the ocean, constantly being pulled in by you. Never being able to escape the grasp you have on him, the grasp you are so blissfully unaware of. He stares at you in awe and wonder, bathing in your gorgeous light, so close yet always so far away. Sitting all alone against the dark backdrop of the evening sky, waiting for him to come back to you. And without reason, you always disappear. Always leaving him wanting more, waiting till the moment he can bathe in your presence again. 

As you sing, the tide gets pulled in by the gravity of the moon. Your lyrical voice bounces off the stone walls, surrounding you both, just as the moonlight surrounds the waves on that mystical night. 

But the moonlight is only a reflection of the sun’s glow, is it not? When daylight comes, the moon will pull away from the waves, its absence in the sky all but forgotten in the sun’s presence. And as dawn breaks, so too will the pull between the moon and ocean. 

on to part 2! ->

leave a comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

[elliethefroggy]

What if Eddie had been a little less oblivious and had invited to Buck to trivia-karaoke night.

They’re all three going to hang out at the karaoke bar, and at first Buck’s nervous because Tommy is super cool, but once the trivia quiz actually starts, all the nerves go away, and Buck’s sponge of a brain has a chance to shine.

He gets question after question right, barely having to consult the two others. Eddie’s probably used to this side of Buck, but Tommy gets to sit there, mesmerised because not only is Buck exceedingly attractive but he also has brains (does Tommy have a competency kink? Who’s to say).

By the end of the night, Tommy’s probably forgotten all about trying to answer the questions, too busy watching Buck’s eyes light up every time he knows an answer (and those eyes light up an awful lot). Overall, the night goes well, and Buck’s amazing brain probably wins them a pitcher of free beer or something.

Because that night went so well, all three of them start hanging out more and more. Maybe Tommy somewhat discreetly suggests to Eddie that they invite Buck along, just so he has the opportunity to stare in Buck’s eyes some more.

But Tommy doesn’t do anything at about his developing crush, at least not right away.

Firstly it’s because Tommy’s trying to figure out just what the deal is between Eddie and Buck. Are they dating? Are they the most healthy divorced couple of LA? BFFs? Platonic soulmates? Not-so-platonic soulmates?

Maybe it doesn’t take him that long to figure out that those two are not together, but then he still needs to make sure that there isn’t some unrequited or very-requited-but-they’re-both-oblivious crushing going on between Eddie and Buck.

My guess it takes him a while to finally decide that they’re some flavour of queerplatonic life partners (he decides on this after a lot of subtle and not so subtle questions; Christopher is probably his most helpful informant).

(Realistically, Tommy would have probably just straight up asked one of them if they were together because Tommy seems pretty good at communication, but that’s no fun for me.)

But then, once he’s figured out that Eddie and Buck are definitely not a thing, he still needs to figure out what exactly Buck’s sexuality is.

Because, sure Buck’s only ever dated women and is such an ‘ally’. But Buck spends way too long looking at other men’s asses. Tommy notices this because he’s probably caught Buck staring at the same asses Tommy himself was just looking at (remember the hanger scene when Tommy very blatantly checks out Buck’s ass).

So now Tommy’s having to figure out just what Buck’s sexuality is. Is Buck gay? Is he closeted? Is he as straight as he claims to be? Is he repressed? Also what’s with all the flirting (because of course Buck’s going to be unknowingly flirting with Tommy; Buck just can’t help himself).

Eventually, Tommy and Buck are going to have some one-on-one bonding time without Eddie.

Buck takes him up on those flying lessons which means Tommy gets trapped in a confined space with Buck on a regular basis, having to deal with his growing feelings towards what can only be a golden retriever in human form. Buck is kind and sincere and so so earnest, Tommy has no choice but to fall for him.

But Tommy still doesn’t know where Buck’s sexuality lies, and he’s getting to the point where’s pulling his hair out in frustration, trying to figure it out. Because no way can a heterosexual man stare at Tommy’s lips that often. There is no straight reason for that, right?

He then makes the mistake of also offering Buck Muay Thai lessons.

He doesn’t realise his mistake until they’re both sweaty and shirtless. Buck looks very good sweaty and shirtless. But it’s fine, Tommy manages to cope, he just avoids looking at the large expanse of wet skin right in front of him. He’s not distracted by all that skin. He’s fine.

(Luckily, Buck doesn’t know enough about Muay Thai to notice how badly Tommy is fighting.)

Somehow they both get tangled up and they fall to the ground (I don’t know shit about Muay Thai). Buck lands flat on his back and Tommy ends up on top of him. Tommy goes to get off Buck immediately because Tommy’s not exactly light, but then he makes another mistake: just as he places his hands on either side of Buck to push off the ground, he looks at Buck’s face

Buck’s cheeks are nice and red (because of exertion? Because of Tommy’s close proximity? Both?), Buck’s breathing heavily, his breaths getting faster and faster the longer Tommy stays where he is. Buck’s eyes are near black, his pupils leaving only the thinnest band of colour.

Buck’s staring at Tommy, and Tommy’s staring at Buck. Then Buck once again glances down at Tommy’s lips as Tommy is lying over him, their sweaty chests pressing against one another.

And Tommy cracks.

He throws himself off Buck, getting to his feet, and crosses over to the other side of the mat to put some distance between himself and Buck.

When he turns back to look at Buck, Buck is still lying on the ground, now leaning back on his forearms, looking up at Tommy. Which is a sight Tommy would love nothing more than to see again.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Tommy says, “but are you really straight?” Which is definitely not how Tommy wanted this conversation to start, but sue him, he’s having a breakdown. “Sorry,” he repeats, “It’s just there’s been a lot of flirting and a lot of starring at my various attributes,” he tries again, poorly, “Not that I’m complaining; I would love nothing more than to have you stare at my lips and flirt with me for as long as you want. But I need to know where we stand before I lose my mind trying to figure you out.”

And the thing is, Tommy’s not the only one who’s been struggling these past few weeks.

Buck’s been dealing with these weird feelings towards Tommy since day 1. At first he just figured it was because Tommy was so cool (which he is), and then he thought it was because he was jealous that Tommy was spending so much time with Eddie, thinking maybe Tommy was trying to steal his spot in the Diaz household. But is wasn’t either of those things. Buck’s been wracking his brain for weeks, trying to figure out just what he was feeling towards Tommy.

And here’s Tommy, all sweaty and shirtless, so much glistening skin on display, and Tommy’s offering Buck a possible answer to all these feelings he’s been unable to name.

And what Tommy’s implying makes some sense. Buck thinks over all the instances he’s hung out with Tommy, compares his behaviour to the times he’s had crushes on women, and thinks maybe Tommy’s onto something.

Buck, who is a big believer of the scientific method of experimentation, figures there’s an easy way to test Tommy’s theory.

Buck slowly gets up from the mat as his brain goes into hyper-drive, processing the fastest sexuality crisis known to humanity.

Maybe Buck flexes a bit as he gets up because Tommy’s watching him and he’s always liked attention.

By the time he straightens up, the sexuality crisis has been dealt with and he’s ready to act on these newly revealed feelings.

He likes Tommy’s theory a lot.

“I have been staring at your lips a lot, haven’t I?” He says, purposeful flirty.

(Once again they have both been (knowingly or not) starring at each other longingly for weeks, they are both shirtless and covered in sweat, and had their naked chests pressed up together just moments ago; neither of them are thinking very rationally.)

And Buck (flirty Buck who made picking woman up into an art-form) walks/stalks over to Tommy, leaving enough room for Tommy to back away if he wants to.

“Maybe you should do something about that?” Buck suggests, and very deliberately stares down at Tommy’s lips.

Tommy knows they should have a more thorough discussion about where both of them stand, but he’s only one man.

Tommy closes the gap between them, places two fingers underneath Buck’s chin, and slowly leans in to finally kiss Buck.

The kiss lasts no more than a moment, not nearly long enough for either of their tastes, but Tommy needs to be sure that Evan’s sure.

“So?” he asks simply, fingers still under Evan’s chin.

“Yeah, definitely not straight.” And Evan leans in to kiss Tommy again. Tommy does not mind at all.

(They then spend the rest of their Muay Thai lesson making out.)

[reidmarieprentiss]

Car Wash

Summary: Derek drives Spencer through a carwash fundraiser.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: flirty fluff

Warnings/Includes: sorority, swimsuits, washing cars in swimsuits, suggestive content (16+)

Word count: 1.1k

a/n: i think Spencer would feel so uncomfortable seeing a bunch of people in swimsuits washing his car lolol

main masterlist

The rhythmic thud of the highway under the tires accompanied the quiet hum of the car's engine as Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid made their way back from a particularly intense death row interview. The two FBI agents, having spent the past few hours delving into the mind of a convicted criminal, were both relieved to be heading home, though their minds lingered on the case's haunting details.

"Man, that was intense," Derek finally broke the silence, his hands firmly on the steering wheel as he navigated through the bustling city traffic. "I'm glad that's over."

Spencer nodded, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. "Yeah, I don't think I'll ever get used to that kind of interview."

Derek chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "You'd think after all these years we'd have a thicker skin. But nope."

As they turned a corner, Derek noticed a sign up ahead, its bright colors catching his attention. "Hey, check that out," he said, nodding toward the sign.

“Oh, looks like we stumbled upon a fundraiser,” Derek remarked with a grin. “You’re in luck, genius. Maybe a little car wash will wash away some of that prison grime from our heads.”

Spencer’s eyes widened as they neared the scene. The sorority members were decked out in swimsuits and tank tops, holding colorful sponges and buckets of soapy water. They moved gracefully between the cars, laughing and chatting with the drivers, their enthusiasm infectious.

As Derek drove them into line, Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze darting from one vibrant swimsuit to the next. The vibrant scene seemed to overwhelm him. His fingers tapped nervously on his knee, and Derek couldn’t help but chuckle at his friend's obvious discomfort.

“Relax, pretty boy. It’s just a bunch of college kids raising money for a good cause. Nothing to be nervous about,” Derek teased, patting Spencer on the shoulder.

“Uh, yeah, I know,” Spencer mumbled, trying to focus on anything but the exuberant display of youthful energy around them. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling out of place.

A cheerful, beautiful young woman approached the car, her hair and body glistening with droplets of water, and a welcoming smile on her face.

You leaned over, hands on the window frame, and peered inside. “Hey there! Thanks for stopping by! This is for the academic sorority – we’re fundraising for educational resources. Would you like a wash?”

Derek nodded, his smile brightening. “Absolutely. Do you have a special academic rate for FBI agents?”

You laughed, a sound like tinkling bells. “Sorry, no special rates, but we promise the best car wash you’ll ever experience. Just pull forward, and we’ll take care of you.”

Spencer gave a nervous smile, unsure of where to look. The energy of the place was intoxicating, yet he felt like an outsider, his usual calm replaced with a peculiar kind of tension.

As Derek pulled the car into the washing zone, the girls and nonbinary members surrounded them, sponges in hand, and began their sudsy assault. The group worked with practiced efficiency, their movements fluid and rhythmic, creating an almost choreographed display of teamwork.

“Reid, you’re missing the show,” Derek said, nudging him playfully. “Lighten up a little. It’s just soap and water.”

Spencer tried to maintain his composure, but it was nearly impossible with the enticing spectacle unfolding outside the window. “I know, I know,” Spencer replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He watched through the window as a particularly enthusiastic member wielded a hose, sending a cascade of water over the windshield. “It’s just…a lot to take in.”

Derek chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You mean the half-naked people covered in soapy water rubbing their bodies on the car?”

“Yeah,” Spencer cleared his throat, his eyes flicking to the scene outside once again. “That.”

His gaze unintentionally kept finding you, drawn in by the way your swimsuit fit you so perfectly, and the way the bubbles seemed to cling to your skin, accentuating your every curve. The sun was relentless in its teasing, casting golden rays that danced across your shimmering body, emphasizing the soap suds glistening against your skin. Spencer's cheeks flushed with warmth, a result of both the sun and his own embarrassment.

You noticed Spencer’s stare, your lips curving into a playful smirk as you met his gaze. With a teasing wink, you took the sponge in your hand, wringing out the water so it cascaded down your chest, sending rivulets of soapy water running down your body in a mesmerizing display.

Spencer felt like all the air had been sucked from his lungs. He shifted in his seat, trying to find a position that would hide the obvious problem in his slacks. His mind raced, heart pounding in his chest.

“You’re that uncomfortable, pretty boy?” Derek teased, a knowing smile on his lips.

“Shut up, Morgan,” Spencer mumbled, his face burning as he tried to look anywhere but in your direction.

Derek laughed heartily, shaking his head. “I think she’s got her eye on you, man.”

As the car wash ended, and Spencer’s discomfort reached its peak, Derek rolled down the window to pay. But instead of approaching Derek’s side, you walked confidently to Spencer’s window, tapping on the glass.

Spencer rolled down the window, eyeing you with curiosity and suspicion. “Um, hi,” he stammered.

“Hey,” you greeted him, your smile dazzling. “Do you have a pen?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Spencer fumbled in his satchel, retrieving a pen and handing it to you. His fingers brushed against your wet skin, and he felt a shiver run up his spine.

You took the pen, holding out your hand expectantly. Spencer hesitated for a moment before realizing what you wanted. He extended his arm, raising an eyebrow in surprise as you began writing your number on his forearm with a playful grin.

“The wash is on the house,” you said, smirking at him. “You can take me to dinner instead.” With a blown kiss and a confident stride, you walked away, leaving Spencer utterly speechless.

Spencer sat there, mouth slightly agape, as he watched you disappear into the crowd of volunteers. He glanced down at the number on his arm, then back at Derek, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Did that just happen?” Spencer asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and awe.

“Yeah, Reid,” Derek laughed, giving him a pat on the back. “That just happened.”

As Derek drove away from the car wash, Spencer couldn't help but stare at the numbers on his forearm, a giddy smile spreading across his face. This unexpected turn of events had certainly added a twist to their day, and as he contemplated the prospect of taking you to dinner, he couldn't deny the flutter of excitement in his chest.

It was going to be an interesting evening, to say the least.

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

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm

[twoflowers]

Stiff Shoulders, Weak Knees: Sanji x Reader

Read on AO3

Description: Sanji has been hard at work in the kitchen; you decide his stiff shoulders need a bit of attention. Predictably, Sanji is a mess. You didn't realize it would be quite this easy to get Black Leg Sanji on his knees. (SFW, suggestive)

Tags: Massage, nosebleeds (of course), light fdom, female reader, no use of Y/N, no description of reader, AND: (Sanji's constant need for validation of his cooking skills, Sanji's eternal need to be of use to the people around him, and Sanji's fantasy of being a fairytale knight kissing the hand of a beautiful queen he has pledged undying loyalty to. This man is a dork, people!)

Word count: 1276. Something short and sweet while I work on a longer fic based on a prompt by @mere-mortifer

Give this video a thumbs up if this man should actually get a massage in part 2!

Stiff Shoulders, Weak Knees

Sanji startles when you put a hand on his shoulder, not because he didn't sense you behind him (he could never fail to notice you entering a room, has been feeling pleasant, anticipatory prickling on his scalp and the back of his neck since you entered the kitchen), but because you've never touched him like this before. An occasional brush of arms, sure. A slightly more frequent brush of fingers, absolutely. He only seems to lose his grip on dishes when he's handing them to you, which is by complete coincidence. 

But your hand is firmly on his shoulder, fingers settling above his collarbone even when he turns to look at you.

“May I make anything for you?” He asks automatically. He carefully avoids looking at your hand in case you're touching him by accident - best not to remind you.

You smile fondly. “After tonight's dinner, I don't think I could eat anything else if I tried. It was excellent.”

Sanji can already feel his knees weakening. Excellent: now there's a good word, a perfect word, that he'll hold onto for later. 

“I'm so glad you think so. I thought of you especially while making it.”

“You say that to all the ladies.”

“It's true.”

Your hand is still on his shoulder. You tighten it a bit, perhaps appreciatively, perhaps condescendingly. He isn't sure which option he likes best.

“I brought my plates back down.” You gently set them in the sink with your other hand, and Sanji immediately picks up his sponge again. He doesn't know when he dropped it. 

“I'll get them done right away,” he stutters. “You're sure you don't want anything? A nightcap? Some tea? - I have a wonderful hibiscus from our last time on shore that would pair nicely with-”

“Sanji…” The quirk of your lip makes it certain: you are condescending him. A small shudder racks his shoulders.

“Mm?” His eyes flicker back and forth from you to the dishes. 

“You're working too hard,” you squeeze sharply at his shoulder, and he jumps at the pain. He's biting his lip when he finally makes eye contact, cheeks already starting to flush.

“See? Your muscles are so stiff.” You move behind Sanji, slipping your other hand up his back and to his opposite shoulder. You dig your thumbs into the muscles bracketing his spine, and he jerks forward toward the sink as if pulled by an invisible force. “Does that hurt?”

“You could never hurt me,” he breathes. 

“Oh?” You tighten your grip, thumbs poking deeply into his stiff back and stroking upwards to his neck. Hard, firm pressure. 

Sanji’s hands reach out to grip the edge of the sink. The sponge falls forgotten into soapy water. His knuckles are white, arms trembling. “Nothing… you do to me could ever hurt me.” His voice is wavering in a delicious way. “Even if it’s painful.”

You hum thoughtfully, dipping one of your thumbs under the collar of his shirt. Skin swipes against skin, and Sanji lets out a whine. 

“We can’t have our cook in anything less than peak condition, can we?” You mumble, still thumbing his soft skin. 

Sanji lets out something halfway between a gasp of pleasure and a laugh of disbelief, hands clenching still tighter.

“We need you healthy,” your hands move down his back, resting just under his shoulder blades. “I need your cooking.”

Somehow, that’s what breaks him. He arches forward with a groan, shoulders shaking.

“Let me help you relax,” you offer. “How about a massage?”

One of Sanji’s hands shoots from the sink to under his nose. He audibly swallows; blood dribbles down his fingers as he pulls his hand away. He nods weakly.

“What was that?” You can’t help but prod, not when he’s this vulnerable. Sometimes you feel like Sanji is a big bruise that you can’t help but poke at.

He nods again. Your hands instantly find his waist, thumbs stroking circles through his suit jacket.

“Use your words.”

“Please. Anything.”

“Such good manners,” you coo. You slip your hands away from Sanji, savoring the way his body freezes in anticipation. You take a lace handkerchief from the counter and gently cup his chin, turning his face towards you.

He looks so small, curling forward like he can’t trust his knees to hold him upright. His face is an impressive shade of red, almost as dark as the blood dripping over his plush, bitten lips. His eyes, surprisingly, aren’t as gleaming and heart-shaped as they usually are around you. 

You can’t help but grin at having finally caught him so off-guard. His eyes become wide, almost frantic, as you swipe a thumb over his chin. There you are. Finally, finally, I’ve reached underneath.

You hold his face more firmly and bring the towel up to clean him, but he flinches. Not away from you- you have a feeling he couldn’t move away if he tried.

“I don’t want to stain it,” he all but begs. “It was… I was planning on using it for plating your evening tea.”

“I told you I’m not hungry.” It’s blatant, obvious teasing, but Sanji’s eyes droop miserably nonetheless. 

“Here we go…” You wipe the handkerchief under his nose. Blood saturates lace, and Sanji’s eyes flutter shut in defeat. 

When you’re done, you pull away and fold the cloth carefully. Sanji watches in equal parts confusion, misery, and awe. When you tuck it into your pocket, Sanji gasps, another trickle of blood falling onto his lips.

“I just finished cleaning you up,” you scold. 

Sanji’s lip quivers from the humiliation, but you quickly lean forward and place your lips under his nose. It’s barely a kiss. You pull away shortly after, tongue darting out to taste his still-warm blood. 

Sanji drops to his knees so hard you hear bone hit wood. His shaking hands grasp one of yours, pulling it to his lips: no contact, just puffs of hot, frantic breath. One knee up, and he’d look like a soldier being knighted by his queen. 

“May I?” He’s trembling. He almost looks like he’s salivating. Your hand is small in his, but his are so much softer, skin scrubbed down from washing dishes, still red-tinged from the sink’s hot water.

You nod, and he gasps into the first kiss. His lips linger on the back of your hand, wet and bloody. You flip it over, and he moans, kissing your palm and trailing up your inner arm. The entire time, his eyes are on yours, searching for the faintest hint of displeasure. 

“Sanji?”

He immediately pulls away, breathing hard, still tentatively holding your hand. 

“Yes?” He looks ready for any command. Blood is smeared across his face and up your arm. You didn’t realize it would be quite so easy to get Black Leg Sanji on his knees, but you should have expected as much.

“The goal was to make you more comfortable. You look like you’re hurting your knees.”

Sanji shakes his head with enough ferocity that his bangs are knocked out of place, almost covering his other eye. “I could never complain about being allowed this.” 

He looks at your arm with some panic, then begins to wipe the blood away with his own shirtsleeve. 

“Sanji. Stand up.”

He obeys immediately.

“We are going to go to my quarters,” you say. 

He nods along dumbly. 

“And you are going to lie on my bed.”

His face flushes a brilliant red.

“And I’m going to give you an incredible massage.”

He swallows, swaying forward on his feet. You take the cue to grab him by his tie and lead him down the hallway, dishes long forgotten.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Milky bath with flowers

Geta/Caracalla/Marcus x wife!reader

warning : fluff, kisses, bath toys in ancient rome (no spicy ones sorry), characters were written before the movie came out

Summary : Emperors and generals went bathing like everyone else in Rome. Maybe not on public baths or in pools, but rather in private pavements with pretty marble floors and statues of gods. But when your beloved wife has already claimed the bath, some things go differently than simply washing.

info : yes the second work to the three and i thought to myself while showering hey why not do something like this so here it is and enjoy reading :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marcus

His body was always covered in dirt, the dusty ground from the campaigns, dried blood on his hands armor and face and sand in his washed hair after weeks and months on the return journey.

So it was all the better not only to finally be able to take off the few washes with bowls and cloths, but to wash himself completely in the large bath.

Unbeknownst to him, there was already someone in the large room, someone who was closest to his heart, the reason why he prayed to the gods that he would come back to her from every fight.

Warm pleasant water surrounded her, flowers in various colors floated around her and spread an ethereal pleasant smell, the water with milk added creating an unnatural yet pleasant water color following the example of Cleopatra.

Until her eyes settled on her husband a simple cloth tied around his hips a body of fine devinietren muscles, scars and slight injuries, dark hair a mix of dark pepper and salt when she looked at the strands a pretty sign of his aging. ,,A mermaid has strayed into the water, what am I doing?" his question echoed lightly in the large room and a smirk came to her lips as he slowly climbed into the water before placing the towel on the edge and swimming over to her.

Steam rose from the water as new wood was added under the fixture to make it more comfortable for the reigns, ,,What could you do, my dear General? A kiss as a sign of your devotion," she suggested and her hands placed themselves on his upper body, feeling the muscles, the strength and willpower that dwelled within him.

She heard his slight smile as she ran her hands over the various scars, smaller and larger, before he took her hands in his rough hands and moved them down her arms to her hips, ,,If it's a kiss you want, you should have one," he replied before he smiled and complied with her request for a devoted kiss.

She let herself fall easily into his arms knowing he was holding her, but she could still feel his almost proud grin, they were both proud of each other. She knew she was his heart she was his life the reason he came back every time and he knew she was his haven when he was haunted by nightmares of battle when the uncertainty of sleep threatened to take him over she was always there for him.

Before he broke away and his fingers stroked her cheek, ,,I have the prettiest mermaid for a wife, she has stolen my heart." From time to time he enjoyed her flattering look, her gaze was followed by a kiss and she splashed him with water.

But Marcus had other plans for her to swim to the edge, he took the soft sponge and indicated for her to sit on the stairs, ,,My dear husband is aware that I am no longer a child?" she asked as he placed the sponge on her leg and held it while she relaxed.

Despite his rough exterior, killing people to win and using swords better than anyone else, he was extremely gentle. He knew exactly how hard he had to wipe the sponge over her skin, how pleasant he made it for her and left kisses on her skin when it was a little too hard.

The divine sight of her wet hair, the individual drops of water that slid over her naked body and the flowers that surrounded her did everything for Marcus. ,,I am aware of that, my heart, but let me be your humble servant," he replied, a smile creeping onto his lips and she let a hand wander over his curls, which had grown a little longer since the last time. Before she let him go on, her sigh of pleasure came over her lips every now and then as he massaged her muscles and kissed her body.

The conversations of simple business to new home furnishings were interrupted every now and then by touches and kisses as they enjoyed the bath, enjoyed each other and the blossoms of love continued to float around the roses long after they had left the bath hand in hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Geta

An emperor did not dirty his hands, never would a man of his status, his stature, his influence soil his own hands with blood. Giving orders and passing judgment was more what he did and yet Geta also had to take a bath in the large extra area of the palace, a bathing area, an area full of baths, full of exotic plants with statues of gods, statues of him and his brothers in various poses and a statue clad in gold of his wife the Empress of Rome the most desirable of all the beautiful beauties the empire had to offer.

But above all she belonged to him and whenever the golden sun went down in the evening, Rome slowly lay down and ate his dinner, Geta found himself in the large bathing area, a simple tunic wrapped around his body, but as he moved towards the large pool he saw that someone was making the water move.

A body, a body familiar to him was in his bath if it was his brother they would have argued enruet but instead a satisfied look settled on his bright eyes. ,,My empress takes a bath without me and doesn't even invite me in, how disobedient,” his voice rang out and she turned to him, startled that someone had come in, as no one else was allowed in except the emperor himself and she relaxed again.

Swimming over to him, she saw him take off his clothes and come to her, a familiar sight swimming towards her after he had been submerged once, his white face make-up running and the black around his eyes making it look like another mask before he wiped it away.

,,I hope my Emperor can forgive me…I was afraid for a moment that it was your brother and I would have to call you,” she admitted and felt his hand move up her thigh, soft skin smooth through the milky water with yellowish and white daffodils specially grown for the Empress, her favorite flowers.

She saw him roll his eyes, he was hardly ever on speaking terms with his elder brother Caracalla but it flattered him when she admitted that her husband was her salvation.

Simple flattery between them but you had to keep an emperor of the world happy in one way or another. ,,You are forgiven and you must be unconcerned only the two of us are here,” the blond murmured and she felt his fingers go up further, a smug expression as he ignored her midsection and instead ran his fingers over her lips before engaging her in a kiss.

Greedily, he took her lips, rasped her words and the two bodies drifted lightly against each other through the water, lightly pushing aside the flowers and coming to rest at the edge of the pool.

His lips broke away from hers, but his hands remained on her body, running down her cheek to her neck, seeming to enjoy her steady pulse, ,,I'm always soothed when you're with me, my love,” she assured him, stroking his curly blonde hair, feeling him nuzzle his head against her hand for a moment and knowing that he enjoyed it when she played with his curls.

Especially when they lay together in the big four-poster bed after a bath a few hours later and he put his hands around her and didn't let go while she ran her hands through his hair until he fell asleep.

The quiet moment pleasant between them was the excitement of the Colosseum behind them both, his excitement was so much enjoyed that Rome's fate lay on his and his brother's shoulders, war had to be fought and a kingdom had to be preserved.

It was all the nicer when they could spend their time together in the evening, ,,The fight today I think the wagering was unpleasant” he joked and told her about the rumors and gossip of the senate as his fingers casually wandered into her hair and he took out the hairpin and her hair now touched the water.

During the day she always had it up because of the sun and heat to avoid sweating even more, but in the bath she had actually known to apply a special tincture that shouldn't get wet until it was absorbed, but now she could forget about it. ,,You're even prettier this way,” he said and ran his hand over her strand of hair, playing with it by wrapping the long needle around it and watching the water drip down it while her hand played with his curls from time to time.

It was a slow evening, an evening in which she let him talk, enjoyed the little games and massages between them, the kisses he initiated and was grateful that he had had her warm bathrobe brought so that they arrived in bed together warmed up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Caracalla

Geta's older brother, Caracalla, was a young man who, even though he was the most powerful of the current world, had completely different interests. He was not concerned with the people, the war was an amusement for him and victories were a matter of course.

No, what mattered to him was his amusement and that he wasn't bored because there was nothing worse than being bored, a wlet's existence in a long world was bad because he was always looking for entertainment.

Not only in his beloved wife, the Empress of Rome, his love and his everything and this entertainment, this amusement, was also part of his life and, as on this evening, also in the large bath which was also in the emperor's palace. The bath was specially equipped for him with beautiful ornaments and decorations a favorite gods and past people so that his imagination was stimulated, including a statue of his wife in a godly disguise.

But that's not why he ran into the bath with his things in his arms - on the contrary, he gripped the wood in his arms tightly and looked from afar at the naked person in the large basin. ,,Attention! The fleet is attacking!” he shouted and heard the surprised sound of his wife before he landed in the water and the wooden toys scattered on the water and individual flowers almost threatened to drown.

Colorful flowers that resembled a rainbow many colors were his wife's favorite even though he preferred blood red he liked her devotion to color.

After hastily emerging, he laughed when he saw that his waves from the jump had completely overwhelmed her and she brushed the strands of hair from her face, ,,A surprise attack is not a bad tactic,” she admitted before she lunged and splashed water at him, causing his make-up to melt and him to spit water.

The two young adults could be heard laughing as she swam closer to him and fished the sponge out of the water she had been using just minutes before and began wiping the makeup off his face while his jittery fingers ran over her body.

From light tickling movements that made her grin to something lewd, she felt him run his hands over her chest to get a reaction from her, always watching what she did, how her gaze changed, whether her lips moved up or down, and especially whether she did the same.

,,My battle emperor forgets I'm busy, doesn't he?” she murmured and rubbed a little harder over his cheek to get the last of the white face make-up off, which he answered with a shrug and a playful dive. She rolled her eyes and still kept an eye out for him, she liked his playful manner and knew that sometimes he was just a bit more playful than his brother, but still the co-emperor of rome.

She had respect for him, but just as often she had to stand up for him when Geta went too far with his sayings and especially his looks and actions, which made those moments of peace and togetherness all the more important. ,,A bestial water creature under me, what am I supposed to do?” she asked loud enough for him to understand and let out a laugh as she felt him dive under her and throw her up very lightly, landing in the water again.

Once again the flowers floated everywhere and the wooden figures sloshed their own way as Caracalla took her hand and gave it a gentle kiss, ,,Forgive me my beloved but this creature is now defeated,” he chuckled and she ran her hand over his blond hair before kissing him on the forehead and taking one of the wooden figures.

It was actually a toy for children, for the future heir of Rome, but Caracalla still enjoyed it and she steered one of the ships towards him while he took one of the catapults and placed a rose on it, ,,And sunk!” he exclaimed, and the blast flew through the air and hit her ship with pinpoint accuracy, sinking it.

They fought a toy battle over several waves and waves until there were hardly any flowers left in the water as they were all shot out of the water and she saw that Caracalla was getting bored again.

Which is why she grabbed the warm tunics and decided to play a different kind of game, a game that could last all night and that she would never get tired of and that the bath would only be the beginning of a battle-filled devotion, that much they both knew when their lips found each other again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[bunny-jpeg]

hi! is it possible to order a hot cross bun and sponge toffee with a side of matcha latte served by oscar piastri? thank you!!

bakery menu! (complete)

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i'd love to get your request and thank you to those who have submitted! i am working hard on them! so thank you! for this order in particular, i'd love what you suggested! so i hope you enjoy! thank you <3

hot cross buns ("don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up.") + sponge toffee ("aw, is someone mad that they can only cum because of me?") + matcha latte (collars/bondage) served by oscar piastri (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, bondage (cuffs), teasing, dirty talk, established relationship, mirror sex, cowgirl position

oscar hated when you hid your face. he hated when you'd shy away from his affection. while he understood why you did it, it still made him worried that he was hurting you when you'd shield your face while you moaned.

so during the mid-season break, oscar came up with an idea while you were at his home. it was rainy in england, so he had a lot of time to think about how to make you less shy. and it involved a rope and the full length mirror in your bedroom.

"oscar." you shifted on your knees as you stayed on the bed. you watched oscar come up to you with the ropes in hand. he kept his eyes on you as he smiled a little at you.

"don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up."

"oscar, please."

"yes?"

"is this going to hurt?"

he replied with a shake of his head, "of course not. i would never do something that would harm you! this will be a like a work-out stretch and it'll feel good." he got closer to you and embraced the warmth you as he kissed you.

you trusted him. you trusted oscar more than you did most so when he pulled away from your kiss and helped you off the bed soon you were on your knees in front of the mirror with your lover behind you typing up all the ropes.

"too tight?" he asked as he knelt behind you. he was still in his briefs, but you could tell he was excited. the idea of having you, to touch you all over. it was a lot for him, and he loved every second of it. he could easily have you any way he could. but, to tie you up felt even better. to put all of your trust in him.

you shook your head, "no, perfect." then shifted a little on your knees. you knew tonight was to show you how beautiful you were. you were a little self conscious, you weren't a model. you went to university and got a degree in biology with a minor in chemistry, not the most glamorous life. but oscar thought you looked adorable in your lab coat and goggles. and how you took safety very seriously!

"i want to prove to you that you're beautiful." he said as he rubbed your bound arms. the rope had your arms behind your back. there was little you could do. once again, all of your trust in oscar.

you were soon both naked with the oscar on the ground with a pillow under his head, you looked at him and said, "honey, that's not comfortable."

oscar replied, "not any less comfortable than a formula one car." he laughed before he took you and got you onto his cock. he helped you get settled on it before you sank down on the impressive size. you arched your back a little and oscar said, "look in the mirror. come on. i want you to see yourself."

you peered at yourself, there was no hiding now. not with your arms bound and you bouncing on oscar's cock. you shifted a little bit and whined, "please, honey."

he made a soft joke, "aw, is someone mad that they can only cum because of me? please keep looking." he held onto your hips and kept his eyes on you as you gazed at the mirror.

"oscar, you know that. you knew from the moment you made me cum that i couldn't reach the same highs without you." you whimpered as you continued to move on his cock.

you felt heat in your gut and across your face, having to look at yourself while you fucked your boyfriend felt like a lot. but, oscar wasn't going to be passive while you hated yourself. he wanted you to see what he saw in you. his beautiful girlfriend who was smarter than anyone else he knew! his hands on your hips were reassuring as you moved up and down his cock. your back arched a little.

"you look so pretty." oscar said, "say that you're pretty."

you moaned a little bit and oscar reminded you to keep your eyes on the mirror. you continued to work yourself onto his cock, your breasts bounced with each of your movements.

"c'mon." he egged you on with his grip a big tighter.

you admired yourself in the mirror while you rode him. you couldn't touch yourself or even move hair out of your face. you had to admire yourself with your arms bound and in the middle of sex. you swallowed and said, "i'm pretty. very pretty."

oscar groaned, "that's what i like to hear." he picked up his pace and really had you riding on him. he tensed up and felt his heart hammer in his chest, "say one nice thing about yourself." he said.

"c'mon, oscar." you replied. you felt the pleasure really start to course through your body. you could feel the stagger of pleasure in your heart as you rode him. the heavy thump in your chest as your began to tense up.

"i want to hear it." he said, a little more stern. but still he looked at you with love in his eyes. even though your gaze had to be transfixed onto the mirror.

"i like the shape of my face.... the colour of my eyes are pretty too." you blushed further, almost humiliated. if you could cover your face, but oscar wanted you to embrace yourself. your beauty, because you were confident in your smarts and he wanted your confidence in your beauty to be on par.

"mmm, what else?"

"please, oscar."

"one more." he encouraged as he moved faster against you. really worked your body against him and watched your shift a little bit. he said, "tell me one more thing because i can think of a hundred right now."

you squirmed against your binds and felt the heat in your body as you felt close to climax. you whined, "okay, okay. i like my breasts. they're a good size."

oscar got one good grab at your ass as he said, "oh yeah." then got you to completion. he watched you tensed up as you climaxed in the cowgirl position. he squeezed his eyes tight from the feeling and felt the rush through his body. the hammer in his chest as he came as well. he groaned, "oh, fuck."

you slowed down your pace after your orgasm and almost fell face first on top of him. but oscar got a hold on your and laid you on his chest. even though his back ached a little for the activities on the floor, he still felt good from the orgasm.

"that's it. that's my perfect angel." he said with warmth in his heart. he held you close then kissed the side of your face. then he started to undo your binds and let your arms free. you both laid out on the floor together with you on top of oscar.

he said as he held you by the lower back, "see, was that so hard?"

you kissed him on the jaw and replied, "well next time we're doing it in reverse." then tapped his nose. oscar couldn't help but chuckle, that didn't sound like a bad idea <3

[dollwrites]

𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 — 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!housekeeper!reader, this is a dark fic, dub con, power imbalance, suggested age gap, rough sex, gagging, creampie / basically forced breeding, enji is a big meanie, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ dabi was supposed to be my first mha character but daddy won sorry. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

for once, during your shifts in the Todoroki household, you were breathing easy. you hum, quietly to yourself, as you scrub each dish, before rinsing the suds away to stack it in the draining rack. usually, you were already aching, with your face shoved in a couch cushion with your ass in the air, taking whatever Enji felt like you deserved that day. more often than not, you’d be crying by the time he finished, and tossed you into the floor like a discarded cumrag, smelling like him and shuddering. you told yourself you only kept coming back because you needed the money, but there were other jobs out there. nicer families to work for.

it was the fear that had a grip on you.

when Enji would bark your name, you would always freeze. he only ever acknowledged you when he needed someone to drain his balls anyways, so you knew what you would be doing for the next hour or so.

you were glad that ( it seemed like ) today would be easier on your body than normal. Enji hadn’t left his bedroom yet, and you were almost finished with the dishes. you had to mop the floors and tidy up the bedrooms, and then you could finally leave.

but the running water in the sink silences his usually too-heavy-to-miss footsteps, and you had no idea Enji was coming until you felt his warmth radiating against your back and your eyes widen. “M—Mister Todoroki, I didn’t hear you come i—“

“Stick your little ass out more,” he rasped, one massive hand pawing at your waist, thumb digging into your tummy to bend you into an arch, and you whine as you comply, gripping the platter tight in one hand and the sponge in the other, “the hell ‘m I paying you so goddamn much for, again? There’s cheaper housemaids, you know.”

“S—sir—“

his free hand hooks around your throat and guides your head back to rest the crown against his sternum, pretzeling you into an unnatural S shape and you cower below his massive form. the expanse of his chest seems miles long from this angle, his harsh features twisted into a wicked scowl. you squint, trying not to lock on to his furious eyes, and stared at his mouth instead. “P—please—“

Enji doesn’t even hear your pathetic, little plea, pushing his gargantuan body against yours, he pins you to the countertop, knocking the breath out of you.

“You’re a tight, little cocksleeve, so you’re worth just a little bit more than those old bags that clean twice as good as you do.” he snarls, hunching over to smear his open mouth over your forehead, and a wave of hot breath tickles your countenance, “but you’d better remember that and start acting like the pricey, set of fuckholes you are. If your back’s not arched, and that ass isn’t on display for me at all times going forward, I’m gonna start cutting your pay. You’ll take twice the cock, though. Am I clear?”

with your bottom lip trembling, you nod with wide eyes, holding the plate closer to your chest. you weren’t sure why you still gripped it, other than you simply needed something to hold on to, something to use as a shield, even if it was a useless one.

Enji quirked a brow, tilted his head of one side, and skewed his lips to bare his teeth. “My question requires a verbal response, whore.”

eyes big and nervous, you release the plate and sponge and allow them to slip back into the soapy water, splashing your top as they do so, but you try to wrap your smaller hands around his forearm when you feel his fingers wanting to tighten around your neck, threatening for you to submit to him or face the severe consequences. “Y—yes sir!” you stammer, holding on to the hardest muscle you’ve ever felt contract under your fingertips.

the hand on your waist careens downward and forces its way between your thighs, and you squirm when calloused fingertips, as rough as sandpaper, rub hard against your panties, “I thought I told you about this, too.” he hisses, coaxing a damp patch against his fingers as he kneads your sensitive sex through the lingerie. you whimper; Enji had made it beyond clear— panties were forbidden. that way, he could easily bend you over any piece of furniture in his home and fuck you without the irritation of having to strip you first. but the skirt he demanded you wear as part of your uniform was much too short, and when you scrubbed the floors on your hands and knees, if you weren’t wearing anything underneath, every inch of your most vulnerable section was exposed. you were embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out, wriggling atop his hand. even though he’s much too rough with your softer, more fragile body, it reacts by pooling slick, attempting to ease the friction he’s causing. “T—the skirt is just so short, I—“

“How many times?” he barks, effectively shutting you up as he wraps his fist around the waistband, “How many times have I had to rip them off of you?”

a soft plea for mercy dies on your tongue. a lot. so many times that you were running out of undies. “T—too many…”

with one, brisk jerk, he’s shredded the fabric, pulling the wad of damp cotton from between your legs in his fist. your body’s jostled by the force, and you gasp, knocked off balance, but pinned too tight against the sink to fall.

“And you still wore them today?”

“I won’t wear them anymore,” you add in a desperate breath. “I— I promise I won’t, p— please don’t be angry with me, I’ll be goo—!“ you were tripping over your own words, terrified of what he had in mind for a punishment. his voice was husky and diabolically low, all of his muscles taut, and you were most afraid of being on the receiving end of his strength if he took the notion to strangle you; you were in a most compromising position. however, your promise to behave is cut off as he jams your own, tattered panties into your mouth, using his thick, long digits to shove the fabric all the way to the back of your throat, and your bargaining melts into a helpless gurgling. the tips of his fingers tease the gag reflex he knew was there, and your eyes well up with tears as you stare up at him, attempting ( and failing ) to push the lingerie out with your tongue. it was only after he pulled his fingers free that you bite down on the underwear, and taste yourself.

“I don’t have the time to punish you properly,” he growls, shoving you further over the sink. you’re swept off your feet, and they dangle a few inches from the floor, the very tips of your toes barely dragging against it, hands scrambling to find solidity, and planting your palms against the bottom of the sink, soapy water sloshing, soaking your shirt, overflowing into the floor. “I’ve got somewhere to be, but, I need a fuck first.” the way he said it made your stomach turn. he wasn’t asking. he wasn’t even trying to pretend that you had a say in what he did with your body. he reaches between your bodies to retrieve his cock, which you are not surprised is already solid and mighty ( you swore he was hard every time he got the chance to degrade you ), and without so much as a moment for you to suck in a breath and prepare yourself, he forces his way inside.

he was so fucking big.

you whimper, blinking back tears. had you not been gagged with your own panties, you would’ve screamed. no matter how many times he used you, your body never adjusted to just how thick he was. your walls have no choice but to stretch to their limit, kissing every angry vein, sealing around his base when he bottoms out. you swear, with the force he likes to drive himself into you, and his impossible size, he must not care if he bursts through your belly. it definitely felt like he might— there was a distinct pressure against your lower abdomen, and you knew that had you not been smushed against the countertop, the shape of his cock would bulge against your navel.

Enji groans, dropping his head back. “You’ve still got the tightest cunt I’ve ever conquered,” he may have meant it as a compliment, but you could do very little besides yowl through your gag and kick your feet as he pounds you, hard and fast, desperately trying to find something to hold on to that wasn’t water, “she never quite gets used to my cock, does she? Still too big for her?” you could hear the splashing as the dishwater rains down on the floor, and you knew that once he was done with you, you would still have to clean up the mess he was making.

nodding, you try to reach both hands down between your legs, instead. you couldn’t pull him out, you knew that, but you could try and soothe your poor, abused sex by cupping it with one hand, your other trying to push against his herculean thigh in hopes to slow him down.

“Good,” he grunts, releasing your throat and grabbing both of your arms at the elbows, jerking your hands away from your own body. with a pitiful whine, you clench your fists as he wrenches your arms back, and uses the new leverage to toss you back and forth, meeting his merciless fucking, “the way you clench when you’re trying to handle my cock…” leaning with all of his weight against your back, he pants into the shell of your ear, “it only makes me want to fuck your useless, little brains out. Harder, and faster.” each word is emphasized as he does just that, pounding you so brutally that you see stars behind your eyelids, shaking you back and forth violently— to the point it made you lightheaded. you squeal and beg and choke on your gag, drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth, tears on your cheeks.

you didn’t want to admit it ( and couldn’t, even if you wanted to ), but the constant battering of his thick tip into a cluster of delicate nerves had driven you over the edge. it was relentless, the way he destroyed your body and your mind; each time his cock hit the bundle in you, your eyelids fluttered, and your brain turned to mush.

somewhere amidst the cruel and bestial assault, you’d dropped off. you fell apart, legs shaking and core pulsing, milking him more fervently, until you gave into the intensity of the orgasm and your eyes rolled back.

he saw this, and moaned in approval, “Don’t black out, slut. I’m about to flood your guts.” his cock was throbbing when he gave you his deepest, hardest thrusts. you yelp in protest when the head of his cock bumps your cervix, but you could do absolutely nothing to stop it, not with the mountainous man holding you down with every last ounce of his weight. you simply had to take the pressure, and rope after rope of warmth that he shoots into you. your toes curl when he pulls back to slam himself home one last time, and the last few spurts of his release dribble out of your quivering hole when he pulls out.

letting go of your arms and stepping back, he tucks himself back into his uniform as you collapse. first, into the sink, and then, when your feet hit the floor, your knees buckle and you slide into a trembling, messy heap in the floor. you can feel the puddle of soapy water under your bum, it’s soaked the rug, too. exhausted, panting, with your thighs vibrating and your sex clenching uncontrollably, you sag against the side of the cabinet door. you shy closer to it, trying to meld into the wooden panel when Enji steps closer, and grabs your chin to tilt it up. your panties still lodged in your mouth, you look up at him with glassy eyes, wincing at his very touch.

“You’re staying late tonight, after you’ve finished your cleaning duties I want you to wait for me to come home and ruin you again, on your knees by the door like a proper whore.” he says, in a matter-of-fact baritone. you nod slowly.

you were, once again, fucked into complete obedience.