#and flirt with each other while making drinks

[33lol]

Truth or Dare

Pazzi (paige x azzi)

warnings: mention of sexual contention, sexual tension, grinding, mention of kinks

wc: 3.4k

It was a Friday night, in which Geno gave the team the day off for team bonding. Some of the girls thought well what better way to spend it than playing some games?

KK texted in the group chat,

Huzzkies🫦🏀

KK: Day off + team bonding = meet in Azzi and Ice’s dorm at 7 tn… bring food, drinks, and vibes🫡

Ice: I wasn’t aware my room volunteered itself

Azzi: Yeah now I have to clean bitch

Nika: LFG I’m down

Carol: You’re up to something aren’t you??

KK: …Let’s just say, what happens in the dorm stays in the dorm😏

Paige: Carol, KK is always up to something

Jana: Y’all wild

(Hearted by the rest of the team)

It was supposed to be a simple night—drinks, food, maybe some Dance Moms that Ice has been obsessing over—but KK had other plans.

The girls all trickled in slowly with snacks, stuff for dirty Shirley's, and lots of TruFru. They ordered pizza and clicked the episode of Dance Moms Ice was currently in the middle of while they all ate.

Azzi was in the kitchen making her plate and a drink while everyone chilled in the living room. She thought she was alone until she felt a warm presence come up behind her and rest her head on her shoulder—Paige. Azzi turned her head to look at her,

“Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah.. just wondering what KK is plotting”

Azzi giggled, “She’s so immature”

Paige smiled and lifted her head from Azzi’s shoulder, “Need help carrying stuff over?”

Azzi smiled softly at Paige’s offer, “Sure, thank you”

Paige helped her carry her food and drink over while looking for a place to sit. Everyone had pretty much taken up the furniture—except for the small loveseat that was definitely not big enough for the two of them. Paige sat the food on the side table while Azzi held her drink watching her. She sat down in the chair spreading her legs comfortably and patted her thighs while looking up at Azzi, “Come here.”

Azzi didn’t argue or even give it a second thought. She smiled and plopped herself right on to Paige’s lap with her legs draped over Paige’s thighs. Their teammates all gave looks, but never said a thing. Just small side eyes to each other and smirks from across the room.

The two have always been clingy and touchy with each other. It’s just known to the team that they are like that. What the pair doesn’t know is the team has already secretly planned their wedding and made bets on when the two will profess their love for each other. Until then, the two best friends just flirt with each other, brushing it off as “their dynamic”—while silently wishing the other knew their feelings.

Eventually everyone was done eating and started to get antsy after the episode ended. KK straightened up looking around, “Alright how bout we play some games now!”

Caroline rolled her eyes, “KK your games are never just games”

Nika laughed, “Yeah last time we did something like this, I couldn’t remember my name the next morning from being so shitfaced”

KK scoffed, “Ok well that’s because you wouldn’t answer any questions! This is gonna be better, trust”

Ash waved her hand, “Go on”

KK smiled devilishly, “OK so it’s a mix of spin the bottle and truth or dare. Rules are simple: spin the bottle and whoever it lands on gets to pick truth or dare. If you don’t answer or complete the dare then you drink… drink can be of your choosing, you’re welcome, Nika.” Nika rolled her eyes playfully.

Azzi adjusted herself on Paige slightly, “I’m in”

Paige tickled the sliver of Azzi’s stomach that was showing making the younger girl giggle, “Fine I’ll play”

KK clapped dramatically, “Yay, the parents have spoken!”

The group laughed and all scooted closer. Ice grabbed an empty bottle from the kitchen and placed it in the middle. KK spun the bottle first and it landed on Ash.

KK rubbed her hands together like she was starving, “Truth or dare Ash”

“Uhh truth I guess”

“Ugh ok fine we’ll start off easy.. what is your guilty pleasure movie?”

Ash blushes slightly, “Hmm.. probably Fifty Shades of Grey”

Aaliyah chokes on her drink, “Damn Ash, I didn’t know you were down like that”

Ash and the group laugh as she spun the bottle which landed on Nika.

“Truth or dare”

“Dare”

“I dare you to send Nahiem a nude and then tell us his response.”

Nika throws her head back knowing he’s with his family right now, “Oh my fucking god. Fine.”

A few moments later her eyes widened at his response. The group yells at her to read it.

Nika blushed while reading, “You gonna show me how you took that pic later or what, ma?”

Jana stood up and clapped while others whistled and laughed. Nika shook her head and spun the bottle, which landed on Azzi.

“Truth or dare”

“Truth. Make it count” she said while smirking.

And Nika did just that, “What’s a big kink of yours, Az?”

Azzi’s face went red and she covered her mouth with her hand, “You freak” she murmured.

“Umm.. I mean I’m into spitting.”

The room went silent for a second.

“OH MY GOD”

“BITCH YOU‘RE CRAZY”

A few of the girls said while a chorus of laughter and “oohs” went around the room. Paige tried to hide her smirk, making a mental note of this fact. She pulled Azzi closer to her, leaning in so only she could hear, “What that mouth do tho mama?”

Azzi smacked Paige’s thigh giving her a glare, “Now I’ve got you curious, don’t I?”

Paige just smirked at her with that same confident look she always had. Azzi leaned forward to spin the bottle, making her ass push right up against Paige—which she may have done purposefully. Paige looked down briefly but not before Carol could say, “Eyes up Bueckers.”

Paige’s face went red and she flipped Carol off. Carol just smirked like the rest of the group but Azzi only smiled, not giving in to the satisfaction of turning around to look at her. Azzi’s spin landed on Ice.

“Truth or Dare Isuneh?”

“Truth, Princess”

Azzi narrowed her eyes at her and tilted her head, “Craziest place you’ve had sex?”

Ice giggled knowing her answer immediately, “Your room”

“What the fuck Ice!”

Ice was wheezing now, “I’m kidding! Gampel bathroom at half time.”

“Bro, how is that even possible?” Aaliyah asked.

Ice sighed dramatically, “Let’s just say anything is possible when he lasts two minutes.”

That got the room cackling. KK was bent over from laughing so hard, “I know you did not just say that”

She sighs, “Unfortunately.”

Ice spun the bottle and the game went around the circle for a while. Some girls refused to answer the out of pocket questions and do the crazy dares people came up with, in turn making them extra tipsy (maybe more than that). Eventually it got around to Paige. Aaliyah was the one who had spun and her face lit up when it landed on Paige.

“Truth or Dare Buckets?”

Paige smiled, “Dare”

Aaliyah smirked knowing she saved this one for one of the lovebirds.

“I dare you to demonstrate your favorite sex position with the person of the group’s choosing”

Paige’s stomach immediately got butterflies while her jaw hung open. Azzi tried not to have too much of a reaction but when the group noticed her face flushed all pink, they all pointed at her.

“Azzi you got this one girl!”

“Yeah you don’t want her to have to drink more do you?”

Her mind started racing, but before she could get too lost in her thoughts she felt two hands circle around her waist. Paige leaned near her ear, “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Az. I’ll take a shot so fast I sw—”

Azzi cut her off with a soft smile that she only reserved for Paige, “It’s okay, I wanna do it.”

Paige didn’t have time to let those words or their meaning settle before she was pulled up by Azzi.

“Show me whatcha got P”

Paige could feel her face get darker by the second with all the eyes on her. Azzi leaned in a little closer to Paige, “Focus on me. It’s just me.”

But that was the issue. It’s Azzi—her best friend, her soulmate, her person—who she is in love with but can’t seem to get the guts to tell her.

Paige took a short breath and nodded, searching Azzi’s face for any sign of hesitation. All she saw was.. excitement from Azzi.

Paige smirked a little and said to no one in particular, “I don’t have much experience (she actually had only had sex one time but it was uncomfortable and didn’t satisfy her, but the group didn’t need to know that) but this one is an intimate one.”

Azzi tried to keep a neutral face, but as she looked around the room she saw the whole team leaning in with smirks and raised eye brows like this was a telenovela. Azzi locked eyes with Ice and mouthed “Die.” Ice just chuckled, continuing to watch the scene unfold.

Paige sat on the floor with her back against the chair with her legs spread. She motioned to Azzi to sit down, “Sit on my lap and face away from me.”

Azzi did as she was told, trying to ignore the sudden heat rising in her stomach. She gripped Paige’s thigh subconsciously, just as something to hold on to, but Paige took it as a different sign. “We can stop if you want,” she said while looking Azzi in the eye with caution, care, and something else Azzi couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Azzi smiled softly, nodding “I’m ok, I want you to keep going.”

The whole team was entertained at this point, eyes locked and leaning forward.

Azzi now sat on Paige’s lap with her back to her chest. In a low voice really only for Azzi to hear, Paige continued, “Alright now spread your legs for me and pull your knees up”

She obeyed and Paige wrapped her hands around Azzi’s thighs, rubbing soft circles on them. Azzi tilted her head back to look at Paige for the first time in a minute. She would be lying to herself if she said she’s never dreamed about being with Paige like this, but she’s just never wanted to ruin anything good in her friendship with her.

Paige smiled at her like she always smiles at Azzi—eyes sparkling, flushed face, quiet confidence. Then she turned to the group and added nonchalantly, "Preferably we’d be in front of a mirror and she’d be riding a strap.”

Azzi’s breath hitched as Paige turned her head back to her. She was still smiling, but it was softer now.

The group stayed silent, with their jaws on the floor and on the edge of their seats.

Eventually KK says, “Ash here’s your real life person version of Fifty Shades”

Nika cackled and added, “Even I’m wet from watching that”

The group all choked and wheezed for a good two minutes. However Paige and Azzi stayed rooted in the position they were in, still frozen and shocked while looking at each other. The laughter died down a bit and Azzi let her legs fall closed while returning her attention to in front of her, not before Paige caught the subtle smirk on her face. The two got up and sat back in the seat in their original position of Azzi in Paige’s lap.

Paige spun the bottle which landed on Jana.

“Truth or Dare Miss Egyptian queen?”

“Truth”

“What’s your body count?”

“Easy, 3” Jana deadpanned.

Paige rolled her eyes and Azzi giggled.

“Alright my turn,” Jana said excitedly.

She spun the bottle and of course, it lands on Azzi.

Aaliyah laughs from the corner of the room, “Truth or dare Azeray.. choose wisely.”

Azzi tapped her finger to her chin like she was debating what to have for dinner, “Dare.”

“Mmm feisty, I like it” Jana said

“I dare you to give the person of the group’s choosing a lap dance.”

Azzi wasn’t sure if she heard that right, “I’m sorry what?”

“You heard me” Jana said with a knowing smirk.

The group all laughed then said, “Paige!” in unison.

Paige’s face immediately turned a shade of crimson and dragged a hand down her face. Azzi closed her eyes and took deep breath realizing what kind of night KK intended for this to be—messy.

“I’m drinking,” Azzi said plainly.

The group immediately busted out into protests,

“WHAT NO!”

“Nah you’re lame”

“C’mon Azzi!”

Paige said in disbelief but with a glint of mischief, “Nah y’all crazy for that one… unless,” she said grinning up at Azzi.

Azzi turned around with a gasp, “Not you ganging up on me too”

Paige giggled but softened her gaze silently telling Azzi she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t wanna do.

Azzi stared into those big blue eyes and realized she actually wanted to feed into the chaos.

“Fuck it” she said while standing up.

“Wait actually?” Paige said a little too fast and very eagerly.

“Yep. Stand up.”

Paige grinned from ear to ear, “Mmm yes ma’am”

Azzi shook her head at the older girl’s antics but couldn’t stop her own smile from crossing her face.

Azzi went and grabbed the chair from her vanity in her room and pulled it into the circle of the team.

“Sit,” she said while patting the back of the chair.

Paige did as Azzi said and ignored the comment from Ice saying, “If she told you to bark you’d do it.”

Paige sat down and looked over at KK who was on her phone with a smirk, scrolling. A Brent Faiyaz song started coming from her phone speaker and everyone started howling. Azzi ignored the group, but actually appreciated the background noise as it made it less awkward on her part.

Azzi circled the chair in a slow and smooth rhythm, eyes on Paige the entire time. Paige knew this was what KK meant by “what happens in the dorm stays in the dorm” so before anything could happen she looked around the room and said with a serious face, “If you post these videos anywhere I will actually kill you.”

The group laughed and Paige looked back up at Azzi. Azzi could see the hesitation all over her face. She leaned down to Paige’s ear and whispered, “I will stop if you tell me to, just focus on me remember?.”

Paige nodded while giving her a shy smile. Azzi placed her hands on Paige’s shoulders, slowly running them lower down her chest while breathing down her neck. Paige could immediately feel slick start pooling in her underwear and her breaths coming out short. She closed her eyes trying to hide from the embarrassment but Azzi was quick to say in a low voice, “Paige I want you to watch me.”

Paige opened her eyes that were half-lidded and tried to control her breathing. Azzi had made her way around now standing in front of Paige. Azzi but her lip as she lifted her leg and climbed into Paige’s lap. Paige had just had her hands resting in her lap not knowing what to do with them and only wanting to do what Azzi said. Azzi saw her fingers twitching and waiting to be given instructions. Without saying a word, Azzi took Paige’s hands and rested them on her hips under her tank top.

The team had been videoing the whole thing so far, still with the music playing and everyone’s baffled faces in the background.

Azzi rested her own hands on Paige’s shoulders and leaned in so her mouth was by her ear, “Can you relax for me P? I got you, just wanna make you feel good.”

Paige pulled her bottom lip between her teeth while squeezing Azzi’s hips tighter. Azzi took this as a sign to keep going. Azzi started her movements, keeping eye contact with Paige the whole time. She started grinding slowly, keeping in mind they still have an audience. She moved her hips in precise circles right over Paige’s core, which was now soaking at this point. Azzi wasn’t doing much better, despite the collected look she had on her face.

Azzi kept grinding at the steady pace, but leaned back slightly only holding one of Paige’s shoulders now and the other holding the side of the chair. This gave Paige a better view of Azzi’s body and that damn belly button piercing she’s never gotten over. Azzi leaned back just enough to the point where Paige slid her hands down to grab Azzi’s ass, just in case she fell back as Paige claimed.

Paige kept her eyes on Azzi, every so often dipping her gaze to her lips. Azzi smiled when she saw Paige’s eyes on her lips which in turn made Paige smile back even wider. At this point they both had taken enough shots earlier in the game to feel a warm buzz that made them feel looser. They were just starting to have fun with each other now.

Azzi moved her body back forward now so she was flush against Paige’s chest. Paige didn’t move her hands from Azzi’s ass, but instead wheezed tighter. Azzi let out a soft whimper only really loud enough for Paige to hear. Paige groaned loudly at this with a toothy grin and slapped Azzi’s ass hard. Azzi halted her grinding and hid her face in Paige’s neck. They both broke into giggles at this and the group immediately turned to chaos.

KK jumped up from her chair running circles screaming

Jana immediately sent her video to the group chat with the words, “Mom and dad gettin naughty🙈”

Nika started rolling on the ground with her hands covering her eyes

Carol announced, “Alright I’ve seen enough porn for tonight.. I’m gonna head out!”

The rest of the group jumped up from their spot getting the memo as well. Even Ice piped up, “I’m staying with Ash tonight!”

Azzi had not moved her head from the crook of Paige’s neck, now realizing how far they had taken it. But she wasn’t embarrassed out of regret, she was slightly embarrassed because she didn’t regret grinding all over Paige in front of her entire team. Paige didn’t move either. She cradled Azzi’s head and held her lower back. Only when she heard the door click and complete silence after her teammates left, did she shift. Paige tapped ass to get her attention.

“Az”

“I can’t look at you”

Paige giggled softly, “Well I’m gonna need you to look at me mama. It’s just us now”

Azzi slowly moved back and lifted her head but still didn’t make eye contact yet. Paige saw her face was warm and flushed. She cradled Azzi’s face with her hands guiding her to look up. Azzi finally looked at her and smiled shyly. Paige just kept looking at her, eyes filled with all the unspoken feelings that have been simmering for far too long.

“What?” Azzi said feeling exposed and seen.

Paige didn’t say anything, she brushed a curl out of Azzi’s face and caressed her finger over her jaw. Paige looked down at Azzi’s lips then back up at her eyes. She thought about everything she could say, but all that needed to be said was, “I’m so in love with you.”

Azzi’s breath hitched and her lips were slightly parted, not expecting Paige to say that. “Are you sure it’s not just the effects of the lap dance talking?”

Paige chuckled at this and inched her face closer, “Baby, I wouldn’t have done anything we did tonight with anyone else. I love you. And I’ve been too scared to say that for some stupid reason. I guess I was worried you didn’t feel the same or that it could ruin our friendship.”

“I love you too P”

“Good… wanna show me some more moves?” Paige asked smirking.

“Depends.. will you demonstrate some more of yours?” Azzi countered with her eyes brows raised.

Paige laughed and tilted her head before leaning in and connecting with Azzi’s lips. The kiss wasn’t rushed like their actions earlier, but slow—purposeful. They stayed like that for a minute, then Azzi pulled back.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before running her tongue over it. Then she asked in a low, rough voice, “Can we go to my room now?”

Paige smiled genuinely and nodded softly at the curly haired girl. She grabbed the back of Azzi’s legs and lifted her up while standing and took them to Azzi’s room, where they would finally share the love they’ve been feeling.

[rafesyangel]

Rafe babytrapping innocent reader!

Part 1

You weren’t supposed to stay long at that party

It was just a quick stop, A favor for a friend, A house on the edge of the street , music thumping like a heartbeat, lights low, and bodies too close

You didn’t even know it was his party, Not until you looked up and saw him

Rafe Cameron
like Danger emitting from him ,Wealth in worn rings and bruised knuckles. He didn’t smile when he saw you, He stared. Unblinking. Like he’d already decided something you hadn’t been told about yet

You were sipping something bitter, trying to stay on the edges. And then he was there leaning in too close, smelling like bourbon and smoke, voice low and raw


“You don’t belong here.”


 “excuse me?”You blinked up at him confused semi flirting 
And he smirked, like you passed his test

He took your drink from your hand and sat next to you as he whispered in your ear

“Meet me upstairs " then he got up and left you , every inch in you was screaming at you to ignore him and dont let him ruin your night, you knew his was trouble, your intuition told you it won’t end happily for you , and it was 100% right

But you ended following him upstairs

The door slammed. The room was dark

He smirked as soon as he saw you , following him like a lost puppy ,his fingers started unbuttoning your dress with a quiet desperation like he was unwrapping something sacred. His mouth was on your throat, your collarbone, your thighs everywhere

He kept grabbing every part of you , kissing and licking it like he was a starved man


But finally when he got to be inside you, the energy shifted It wasn’t just lust

It was possession

His hands held you down. His voice in your ear, rough, honest, fevered
“I need to ruin you for everyone else.”
You moaned his name clearly not sober enough to realize what you have gotten yourself into, he groaned like you’d given him everything


Then the words came right when you thought he’d pull out
“You’re mine. You’re not leaving here empty. I’m making sure of that.”

Your breath hitched already starting to panic

“Rafe wh-“

Too late
He came inside you while his Eyes locked on yours as if he needed to see you break open under him , his hot seed filling you to the brim making your eyes roll back

“Shhh sleep baby you will need it” he murmured in your ear , patting your head

this is the last thing you heard before fell unconscious in his arms , sleep taking over

He woke up before you , left his phone number on a piece of paper under your iPhone with no sight of rafe in the room, you mentally promised yourself to never bring up this interaction again ,

Weeks passed

You and Rafe didn’t see each other again, with you ignoring all the texts and weird stuff he sent you

Unknown Number: “You haven’t answered me.”

Unknown Number: “for how long will you keep this bratty behavior with me baby ?.”

Unknown Number: “You will eventually come back running to me baby I’m warning you.”

This texts freaked you out with him not stopping with his weird behavior you felt sick in your stomach

When you thought life couldn’t get worse it got, the nausea came. The missed period. The pregnancy test. Positive

You stared at the tiny pink lines, heart thudding like a warning when your phone buzzed and snapped you out

Unknown Number: “im still waiting baby”

Unknown Number: “i will gladly take care of both of you”

[kittenan2]

Spicy Fights and Sweeter Nights

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader Genre: Enemies-to-Lovers, Office Romance, Smut, Rom-Com, Fluff Rating: 18+ (Explicit) Warnings: Explicit sexual content, public teasing, light dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, rough sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), semi-public sex, workplace romance, fake pregnancy misunderstanding, intense sexual tension, mild degradation, spanking, biting, scratching, edging, fingering, stroking, licking, unprotected sex (use protection, folks!), fluff, humor, chaotic team dynamics. Word Count: ~6k

The fluorescent lights of the sales and marketing department hum like a chorus of judgmental insects, casting a harsh glow over the chaos of your daily battlefield. Papers are scattered across desks, coffee cups wobble precariously, and your coworkers huddle behind monitors, whispering like they’re plotting a coup. You’re at your desk, glaring at your computer screen, trying to ignore the insufferable presence of Kim Seokjin three desks away.

Jin, with his stupidly perfect face and tailored blazer, is leaning back in his chair, tossing a stress ball with the nonchalance of a man who knows he’s the office heartthrob. He catches your eye and flashes that smug, “I’m-better-than-you” grin that makes your blood boil.

“Stop staring, Y/N,” he drawls, voice carrying over the cubicles. “I know I’m gorgeous, but we have a deadline.”

You grit your teeth, fingers hovering over your keyboard. “If you spent half as much time working as you do admiring yourself, we’d have launched this campaign last week.”

He tosses the ball higher, catching it without looking. “And if you didn’t micromanage every slide I make, we’d have a campaign worth launching.”

Lisa, sitting between you, sighs dramatically. “Here we go again.”

The team’s been planning a food truck event to promote the company’s new product: a trendy, protein-packed snack bar called “GlowBites.” You’re in charge of logistics; Jin’s handling customer engagement. Naturally, you’ve been at each other’s throats over every detail. Today’s team meeting is no exception.

In the conference room, you stand at the whiteboard, presenting your plan for the food truck layout. “We’ll position the truck near the park fountain for maximum foot traffic,” you say, pointing to your diagram. “Clean, efficient, accessible.”

Jin leans back, loosening his tie in frustration, the motion drawing your eye to the sliver of collarbone exposed as his shirt shifts. “A fountain? Really, Y/N? You want people to eat protein bars while dodging water spray? Genius.”

You tap your pen aggressively on the table, leaning forward, your faces inches apart across the conference table. “Jin’s idea to use influencers is lazy. We need grassroots engagement.”

Jin mirrors your stance, leaning in, his eyes locked on yours, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Grassroots? You mean handing out samples in a parking lot like a lemonade stand?”

The air crackles, your noses almost brushing. Lisa nudges Jungkook, whispering, “Ten bucks says they’re making out by next month.” Hobi, barely containing a grin, mutters, “They’re gonna jump each other on this table.”

You pull back, cheeks burning, and snap, “Maybe if you’d read the site map instead of flirting with the graphic designer, you’d know the fountain’s decorative, not a splash zone.”

Jin smirks, undeterred. “Flirting? Please. I was giving her constructive feedback. Unlike you, I know how to be professional.”

“Oh, professional? Like when you ‘accidentally’ spilled coffee on my presentation notes?”

“That was gravity’s fault, not mine.”

Hoseok claps his hands. “Alright, lovebirds, save it for the food truck. We’ve got a product to sell.”

You and Jin both snap, “We’re not lovebirds!”

Lisa mutters, “Best haters-to-lovers trope I’m ever gonna witness.”

Post-meeting, the team retreats to the break room, leaving you and Jin to stew. You’re at your desk when you notice a coffee cup on it, a Post-it stuck to the lid: “Drink this so you’re less grumpy. —J.” You scowl, recognizing Jin’s handwriting, but the coffee’s your exact order—black, two sugars. You scribble “Not your secretary to follow your orders” on the Post-it and slap it on his monitor, but you sip the coffee anyway, annoyed that it’s perfect.

In the break room, Lisa’s created a group chat called “Y/N + Jin: Hate or Fate?” Yoongi, sipping his black coffee, deadpans, “I’m betting they’re already hooking up and too dumb to admit it.” Jimin, grinning, shows a photoshopped wedding invite for you and Jin, complete with cartoon hearts and GlowBites as the wedding cake. The chat erupts, with Hobi adding, “I’m sending this to them at the worst possible moment.”

You catch wind of the group chat when Jimin “accidentally” leaves his phone open. You roll your eyes, but a tiny part of you wonders if they’re onto something. Then you shake it off. Jin’s the worst. Right?

The food truck event is in full swing, the park buzzing with families, students, and foodies. The neon-yellow GlowBites truck is parked near a decorative fountain, its gentle trickle drowned out by the crowd’s chatter. The air smells of grilled meat from nearby vendors and the faint sweetness of your snack bars. You’re inside the truck, prepping samples with surgical precision, arranging them in color-coded sections—green for matcha, red for berry, yellow for mango. Jin’s outside, charming every customer, his laughter ringing like he’s hosting a talk show.

You lean out the service window, holding a tray of bite-sized GlowBites. “Jin, stop overselling it. You’re gonna make us run out before noon.”

He turns, flashing that infuriating smile at a group of giggling college girls. “Relax, Y/N. I’m just giving the people what they want—my face and your snacks.”

You roll your eyes so hard you’re surprised they don’t fall out. “Just pass out the samples and stop posing like you’re on a magazine cover.”

He saunters over, grabbing the tray, his fingers brushing yours for a split second. The contact sends a spark through you, and you hate how your breath catches. He notices, eyes glinting with mischief. “Careful, Y/N. You’re blushing.”

You nearly drop the tray. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Before he can answer, you’re both distracted by the tray arrangement. “Why are these so… organized?” Jin says, rearranging the samples into a chaotic pile. “It’s a food truck, not a museum.”

You snatch the tray back, your shoulder bumping his. “Stop messing with my system! Green, red, yellow—it’s efficient.”

He leans closer, smirking. “It’s neurotic. Loosen up, Y/N.” Your hands brush again as you fight over the tray, the tension crackling. A customer, an older woman, chuckles. “You two fight like an old married couple!”

Jin winks at you, whispering, “Hear that, wifey?” You elbow him, hard, but your cheeks burn.

The chaos escalates when Lisa and Jungkook start spreading a rumor to save the event. Your bickering is scaring off customers, so they take matters into their own hands. You catch them near the truck, Lisa spinning a tale to a line of people: “They’re married, and she’s pregnant. That’s why they’re so snappy—hormones! Please try the GlowBites to support them!” Jungkook nods, filming for “marketing content,” adding, “Yeah, she’s cranky because of the baby!” Hobi, holding a phone, uploads the clip to the company’s socials, captioning it “#GlowBitesLoveStory.”

Soon, customers are congratulating you left and right. A middle-aged woman with a kind smile approaches. “Congratulations, you two! Your friends told me you’re expecting!”

You blink, dumbfounded. “Excuse me?”

Jin, quick on his feet, turns on the charm. “Uh, thank you, ma’am! We’re… very excited.” He shoots you a look, daring you to play along.

The woman beams, taking a sample. “You’re working so hard for that little one. I’ll tell my book club about these GlowBites!”

As she walks away, you grab Jin’s arm, yanking him closer. “What was that?”

He shrugs, too amused. “I’m not correcting her. She’s buying ten boxes.”

The congratulations keep coming. A group of sorority girls gush over Jin’s “dad vibes,” asking for baby name suggestions. Jin suggests “GlowBite Jr.,” earning a glare from you as you mutter, “I’m not pregnant!” A dad offers Jin parenting advice: “My wife was like that when she was expecting—hormones!” You nearly chuck a sample at him, but Jin catches your wrist, smirking, “Easy, mama bear.” An old man pats Jin’s shoulder, saying, “Take care of her and the baby!” A teenager winks, “You guys are cute, even when you’re fighting.”

You corner Lisa during a lull. “Why is everyone acting like I’m pregnant?”

She chokes on her water. “Oh, uh… funny story. We told people you and Jin are married and expecting to get them to try the product. Your arguing wasn’t helping, so we blamed hormones. It’s working!”

You gasp. “You did WHAT?”

Jin, overhearing, laughs so hard he nearly drops a tray. “Oh, this is gold. Y/N, you’re my pregnant wife now. Should I call you ‘honey’?”

You shove a sample in his mouth. “I’m going to kill you all.”

The final straw is a sweet grandma with twinkling eyes. She hands you a bag of traditional red bean sweets. “For you, dear. These give energy during pregnancy. Stay strong for that baby.”

You stare at the bag, mortified. Jin bows deeply. “Thank you, ma’am. We’re so grateful.”

As she walks away, you hiss, “You’re enjoying this too much.”

He leans in, voice low. “What’s not to enjoy? You’re glowing, wifey.” His proximity makes your skin prickle, and you hate how your heart stutters.

“Keep talking, and I’ll shove these sweets where the sun doesn’t shine.”

He winks. “Kinky.”

The event is winding down, the park emptying as the sun dips low, casting a golden glow over the neon-yellow GlowBites truck. You and Jin are stuck cleaning up, the rest of the team conveniently “busy” elsewhere. The truck’s interior is a mess—crumbs everywhere, empty trays stacked haphazardly, the air thick with the sugary scent of GlowBites. You’re wiping the counter with aggressive swipes, muttering about your meddlesome team, when Jin tosses a rag at you, hitting your shoulder.

“Stop sulking, Y/N,” he says, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, his blazer discarded, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms you definitely shouldn’t be noticing. “It’s not my fault everyone thinks you’re carrying my child.”

You throw the rag back, smacking his chest. “You didn’t help, Mr. ‘Oh, we’re excited.’”

He steps closer, smirking. “Admit it. You like the idea of me as your baby daddy.”

Your pulse quickens, but you scoff, turning to scrub a nonexistent stain. “In your dreams, Mr. Kim.”

He moves behind you, so close you feel the heat of him, his breath ghosting over your neck. “You sure? Because the way you keep staring at me says otherwise.”

You spin around, ready to snap back, but he’s right there, towering over you, eyes dark with something beyond teasing. The air crackles, heavy with unspoken tension. You should push him away, tell him to fuck off, but your body betrays you, rooted to the spot, your gaze flicking to his lips.

“Back off,” you say, voice barely a whisper, lacking conviction.

He doesn’t. He leans in, lips brushing your ear, voice low and rough. “Make me.”

The challenge hangs there, and something snaps. You grab his collar, yanking him down, but pause, your noses brushing, breaths mingling. “Scared, Y/N?” he taunts, smirking, but his eyes are heavy with want. You close the gap, kissing him hard, a collision of frustration and need. His lips are soft but demanding, claiming yours with a hunger that makes your knees weak. You kiss back fiercely, teeth grazing his bottom lip, drawing a low groan that sends heat pooling in your belly.

He presses you against the counter, hands sliding to your hips, gripping tightly as he deepens the kiss, his tongue teasing yours, slow and deliberate, then urgent. You tug his hair, hard, and he hisses, breaking away to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck. You moan softly, head tipping back, and he takes advantage, sucking lightly, leaving a mark you’ll curse him for later.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he murmurs against your skin, voice rough. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

You freeze for a split second, heart racing at the confession, but you can’t admit you feel the same—not yet. Instead, you pull him back to your lips, kissing him deeper, your nails scratching his neck as you pour every ounce of frustration into it. His hands slide under your shirt, fingers tracing your spine, then gripping your waist to pull you flush against him. You feel him, hard through his jeans, and your hips roll instinctively, making him groan, low and filthy.

“You keep doing that,” he growls, “and we’re not cleaning this truck.”

You bite his lip, smirking. “Good. You deserve to suffer.”

He spins you, pressing your front against the counter, his body flush against your back. His lips find your ear, whispering, “Oh, sweetheart, you’ll regret that.” His hands slide down, squeezing your thighs, making you squirm. He grinds against you, and you gasp, the truck creaking with the movement. You’re lost in it—kissing, touching, panting—until footsteps outside snap you back.

You shove him away, breathless, fixing your shirt. He’s disheveled, hair mussed, lips swollen, eyes dark with unspent desire. “This isn’t over,” he says, voice a promise.

You glare, heart pounding. “It never started.”

He hands you a rag, fingers lingering on yours, the air thick. “You can’t run forever, Y/N.” You storm out, his chuckle following you, making your skin tingle.

A week later, the tension is unbearable. The fake pregnancy rumor has made every glance, every accidental touch feel like a lit fuse. You’re in the office storage room, arguing over product placement for the next campaign.

“You can’t put the GlowBites next to the energy drinks,” you say, arms crossed. “It’s a health snack, not a pre-workout.”

Jin rolls his eyes, stepping closer to grab a box from the shelf behind you. “And you can’t keep rearranging my displays because you’re obsessed with control.”

You shove him, a light push, but it’s enough. He grabs your waist, spinning you until your back hits the shelf, boxes rattling. His lips crash into yours, hungry and messy, all tongue and heat.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he growls, lifting you onto a stack of promo boxes. Your legs wrap around him, pulling him closer, feeling how much he wants you. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You bite his lip, hard enough to make him hiss. “Good.”

He yanks your blouse open, buttons popping, and you don’t care. His hands cup your breasts, teasing your nipples through your bra. You arch into him, moaning as he grinds against you, the friction driving you wild.

“Quiet,” he murmurs, voice rough. “Unless you want the whole office to know.”

You clamp a hand over your mouth as he slides your skirt up, fingers teasing through your slip. He’s relentless, stroking until you’re soaking, thighs trembling. He pushes your underwear aside, sliding two fingers inside, curling them just right. You bite his shoulder to muffle your cry.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans. “Been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

You don’t answer, too lost. He drops to his knees, pulling your panties down, his mouth on you, tongue lapping like he’s starving. You grip the shelf, moaning his name as he brings you to the edge. When you come, it’s explosive, your body shaking. He stands, kissing you hard, letting you taste yourself.

You fumble with his belt, desperate, and he helps, chuckling. When you free him, he’s hard and thick, and you stroke him slowly, watching his face contort. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groans. You guide him to your entrance, and he pushes in, slow, then deep, filling you. You both moan, the boxes creaking as he thrusts hard, fast, his hands gripping your hips.

“Harder,” you demand, nails digging into his back.

He complies, slamming into you, leaving bruises. It’s rough, desperate, perfect. You come again, his name on your lips, and he follows, groaning, spilling inside you.

Panting, half-dressed, you’re surrounded by toppled boxes. He grins. “Best use of storage space ever.”

You laugh, shoving him. “You’re the worst.”

One afternoon, you’re both tasked with delivering campaign materials to the top floor. The elevator ride starts innocently, but Jin’s standing too close, his cologne filling the small space. You snap, “Personal space, Kim.” He smirks, leaning in. “You didn’t mind in the storage room.” Your cheeks burn, and you shove him blush, but he catches your wrist, his touch lingering. The elevator dings, but he doesn’t let go, his eyes daring you to make a move.

You’re alone again in the elevator the next day, delivering more materials. The doors close, and Jin hits the emergency stop button without warning.

“Jin, what the—”

He pins you against the wall, lips crashing into yours. “Five minutes,” he murmurs, hand sliding under your skirt. His fingers tease through your panties, and you gasp, fisting his shirt. You bite his neck, leaving a mark, and he groans, grinding against you.

“You think you’re in control?” you taunt, stroking him through his pants.

He smirks, slipping inside your panties. “Let’s find out.”

It’s frantic, his fingers working you, your hand stroking him, both racing against time. His lips suck a bruise on your neck, and you’re trembling, so close—

The elevator jolts, a voice crackling: “Is everything okay?”

You freeze, panting, skirt bunched, his shirt half-unbuttoned. Jin curses, fixing your clothes. “Yeah, just… stuck. We’re fine.”

The doors open, and you stumble out, lipstick smudged, hair a mess, Jin’s tie askew, lips red. Lisa, Jungkook, and Hobi are in the hallway, eyes wide.

Lisa’s jaw drops. “Oh my god, what happened to you two?”

Jungkook smirks, nudging Hobi. “Told you. They’re banging.”

Hobi laughs. “Y/N, your neck’s a war zone.”

You slap a hand over the hickey, mortified, while Jin adjusts his tie, grinning. “Mind your business,” he says, too smug.

Lisa whispers to Jungkook, “I’m doubling my bet. Married by next year.”

You glare, storming off, Jin’s chuckle following.

Jin’s teasing doesn’t stop—he “accidentally” drops a pen during a briefing, bending close to pick it up, his hand brushing your thigh. You retaliate by “forgetting” to CC him on an important email, making him storm to your desk, whispering, “Playing dirty, Y/N? I can play dirtier.” His voice is low, dangerous, and you hate how it makes your thighs clench.

The team’s gossip doesn’t help. Lisa leaves a parenting magazine on your desk “for research,” and Jungkook keeps humming “Baby Shark” when you pass. You’re ready to strangle them, but Jin’s smug grin every time someone mentions “the baby” makes it worse. At a team lunch, he slides you a slice of pizza, saying, “Eat up, wifey. Gotta keep your strength.” You kick him under the table, but his hand catches your ankle, holding it a second too long, his thumb brushing your skin.

By the end of the week, the tension’s a live wire. You’re both staying late to finish reports, the office empty except for the hum of the air conditioning. You’re at your desk, reviewing sales figures, when Jin approaches, tossing a file onto your desk. “Your numbers are off,” he says, leaning over your shoulder, his breath warm against your ear.

“They’re not off,” you snap, shoving the file back. “Maybe check your own math.”

He grabs your chair, spinning you to face him. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re infuriating,” you retort, standing, your chest brushing his.

The argument spills into the hallway, and he backs you against the emergency exit door. The kiss is bruising, all teeth and desperation. He lifts your skirt, hand sliding between your thighs, teasing through your panties. “Already so wet,” he growls, biting your shoulder.

You smirk, stroking him through his pants, feeling him harden. “And you’re begging.”

He chuckles, dark and filthy, slipping your panties down. His fingers trace your inner thighs, barely brushing where you need him. “Shaking already?” he teases, smirking as you glare. He slides one finger inside, agonizingly slow, then stops, licking his fingers clean while you whine. “Patience,” he says, smug.

You retaliate, stroking him slowly, torturously, until he’s groaning. “Two can play this,” you whisper, twisting your wrist. He kneels, spreading your thighs, his tongue licking long, slow stripes, stopping just short of your climax. “Jin, don’t you dare,” you hiss.

He grins, standing to whisper, “Tell me how bad you want it.”

“I want you,” you gasp, pulling him into a desperate kiss, tongues clashing. He slides two fingers inside, curling, pumping, thumb teasing your clit, keeping you on edge without letting you come. You’re whimpering, begging, and he finally gives in, thrusting into you, deep and hard. The door rattles, your moans echoing. He’s relentless, one hand gripping your hip, the other pinching your nipple through your bra. You claw his back, leaving marks.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans, biting your neck. You come, screaming his name, the sound bouncing off the concrete. He follows, groaning, spilling inside you.

You collapse onto the stairs, half-dressed, panting, laughing. He brushes hair from your face, kissing your forehead. “We’re so getting fired.”

“Not if I frame you first,” you reply, nuzzling into him. He chuckles.

Over the next few days, Jin’s bolder—slipping you a note during a meeting that says, “Wear that skirt again. You know why.” You wear it, just to mess with him, and catch him staring, jaw tight. At a team happy hour, he “accidentally” spills beer on your shirt, offering his jacket, his fingers lingering on your shoulders as he drapes it over you. You whisper, “You’re not slick,” but you keep the jacket on, his scent clinging to you.

It’s late on a Thursday, a week after the stairwell, and you’re both stuck in the office, finalizing a pitch. The team’s gone, and the quiet amplifies the tension. You’re at the printer, cursing a paper jam, when Jin appears, leaning against the wall, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“Need help, wifey?” he teases, but his voice is softer, less cocky.

You glare, yanking at the paper. “I’ve got it, Mr. Kim.”

He steps closer, gently taking the paper from your hands, his fingers brushing yours. “You’re gonna break it,” he says, fixing the jam with infuriating ease. He doesn’t step back, his proximity making your pulse spike.

“Why do you always do that?” you snap, shoving the printer closed.

“Do what?”

“Act like you’re better than me, then… do shit like this.” You gesture to the printer, the coffee he’s left on your desk, the way he’s always there when you need him.

He pauses, eyes searching yours. “Maybe because I don’t hate you as much as you think.”

You freeze, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He steps closer, voice low. “It means I’m tired of fighting, Y/N. I like you. More than I should. And I think you like me too.”

Your heart stutters, but you scoff, crossing your arms. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” He leans in, close enough to kiss. “Then why do you keep letting me get this close?”

You want to argue, but the words stick. He’s right, and you hate it. Before you can stop yourself, you grab his tie, pulling him down for a kiss—soft at first, then desperate. He kisses back, hands cupping your face, and it feels different, like a surrender.

When you pull back, panting, he grins. “So, you wanna do this? For real?”

You bite your lip, heart pounding. “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

He laughs, kissing you again. “My lips are sealed, secret girlfriend.”

By Friday night, you’re both working late again, the office dark and quiet. You’re arguing over who forgot to lock the office the night before, the fight spilling into the parking lot, the air cool, the lot empty except for Jin’s car.

“You’re so irresponsible,” you snap, poking his chest.

He grabs your wrist, pinning you against the hood of his car. “You’re one to talk,” he growls, kissing you fiercely, all teeth and heat. His hands slide under your skirt, teasing you until you’re trembling. “Fuck, Y/N, you drive me crazy.”

You smirk, dropping to your knees, unbuckling his belt. You take him in your mouth, teasing with slow licks, swirling your tongue until he’s gripping your hair, cursing. You stop just before he finishes, standing to whisper, “Not so fast.”

He flips you around, bending you over the hood, the metal cold against your thighs. He slides your panties down, thrusting into you, rough and filthy. “You like teasing me?” he whispers, voice dark with praise. It’s quick, desperate, the risk of security cameras making it hotter. You come hard, muffling your cry against your arm, and he follows, groaning.

You lean against the car, breathless, sharing a vape, laughing. “We’re so fucked,” he says.

You grin. “Worth it.”

Few months later, the team’s at a trendy Korean BBQ restaurant, celebrating the GlowBites launch. You and Jin are secretly dating, stealing touches under the table—his hand on your thigh, your foot nudging his calf. You share smirks over inside jokes, like when he whispers, “You’re glowing, wifey,” and you pinch his arm, hard.

The team’s still obsessed with the pregnancy rumor, tossing around baby names over soju shots. Jungkook’s got a betting pool going, and Lisa’s convinced you’re hiding a bump under your loose sweater. In the group chat “Y/N + Jin: Hate or Fate?,” Jimin’s posted a photoshopped wedding invite with you and Jin, GlowBites as the cake. Hobi’s latest contribution is a TikTok of you two arguing at the food truck, captioned “#GlowBitesBaby.” Jungkook brags about the video hitting 10k views, saying, “I’m basically a director now.”

Mid-dinner, you feel queasy—damn kimchi pancake, too spicy. You clutch your stomach, wincing, and rush to the restroom. Jin’s up in a second, half-panicked. “Hey—what’s wrong?” He paces outside, texting you, “You okay? Need me to barge in?”

You emerge, pale and sweaty, waving him off. “Just the pancake.” He orders you a ginger tea, sliding it over without a word, but his hand lingers on yours, earning a soft smile.

The team’s in chaos. Lisa gasps, “She’s throwing up!” Jungkook leans in, eyes wide. “Is it… the baby?” Hobi chokes on his soju. Jimin, dramatic, clutches his chest. “Did we manifest this? Did we speak the fake baby into existence?”

Lisa tells she will ask tailor to design a custom baby onesie, printed “For GlowBite Jr.!” You threaten to burn it, but the team roars, Yoongi muttering, “I’m not babysitting.”

The waiter brings sweet rice drink, and Lisa yells, “She can’t drink that! It’s too fermented for the baby!” You slam your head on the table, groaning. Hobi chants “Baby GlowBites!” until you throw a napkin at him.

Jin, fed up, slams his chopsticks down. “Stop it guys, we are careful every time, she is not pregnant.”

The table goes silent. You glare at Jin, eyes wide, hissing under your breath, “Are you serious? We’re supposed to keep this secret!” Your heart races, mortified that he’s just blown your cover.

Lisa bursts out laughing, nearly spilling her soju. “Oh, please, Y/N. We’ve known for weeks.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning back. “Yeah, you two aren’t exactly subtle. I saw you sneaking out of the stairwell looking like you fought a bear.”

Hobi grins, holding up his phone. “And that hickey in the elevator? Not your best cover-up.”

Jimin claps, delighted. “The group chat’s been tracking you since the food truck. ‘Hate or Fate’ was always gonna end in fate.”

Yoongi sips his drink, deadpan. “You’re both idiots, but at least you’re idiots together now.”

You bury your face in your hands, cheeks burning, while Jin laughs, squeezing your knee under the table. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag, girlfriend.”

You swat his arm, but you’re smiling, the tension melting. “You’re the worst,” you mutter, but your voice is soft.

Lisa raises her glass. “To Y/N and Jin, the worst-kept secret in marketing!”

The team cheers, and you shake your head, laughing despite yourself. Jin leans in, whispering, “Are you really okay? Should we go see a doctor? What if it’s food poisoning?” His eyes are wide with worry, brows furrowed, and you feel a warmth spread through you at his concern.

You squeeze his hand, whispering back, “I’m fine, Jin. Just spicy food. But… thanks for caring.” You flash a small smile, and he relaxes, though his hand stays on yours.

Leaving the restaurant, Jin pulls you into a quiet alley, the neon sign casting a soft glow. He cups your face, kissing you gently, then pulls back, eyes searching yours. “Y/N, are you sure you don’t need a doctor? What if you’re… you know, pregnant?” His voice is soft, laced with worry, his hand tightening on yours.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I got my periods on time, Jin. It’s just the Spicy kimchi. Relax. You know I can't handle spicy unless it's you.”

He exhales and chuckles, visibly relieved, pulling you into a warm hug. “Okay, good. But no more spicy pancakes, deal?” He kisses your forehead, protective and teasing.

You roll your eyes, smirking. “Deal, but only if you stop playing doctor.”

He grins, tugging you closer. “No promises. I’m keeping that onesie Lisa gonna gift us for when we’re ready.”

You swat him, but end up in his arms, walking under the city lights, laughing and bickering like always, but now with a love that’s no longer a secret. The team’s laughter fades behind you, but all you feel is Jin—his warmth, his worry, his love.

A/N: How would you feel if you get a Jin as your office colleague?😈

Taglist: @army-geniuslab . @jeonjamiekim . @moonjinniecafe  . @minpdrecs . @bontensbabygirl . @this-most-assuredly-counts . @taolucha . @mytaegiheart . @dear-mono . @lilyficrec . @janeluvwonuuuu . @k-fan-fics . @iztrouble . @pikajooni . @namluvili . @alonahh . @paradise172 . @stay-tiny-things . @micdropitlikeitshot . @softhaes . @littlebluhellfire . @niqueesthings . @nocturnalsingularity . @syudoeslove . @namjoonbaby17-blog . @mar-lo-pap . @naesarang07 . @diame93 . @themwordsblog . @crizoosblog . @bebabido . @bts-fic-recs-mess . @nocturnalsingularity . @ninisficrecs . @lovingkoalaface . @afgbbf . @hiilovetata . @namjooniverse . @petersasteria .

[sincerelystarry]

( ☆ ) . * if u saw my tears wld u touch me . . . kiss me on the mouth say u love me !!

modern au — f!reader x best friend!steve harrington

starry’s sweets — order #007

ask : “Hello, I'd like to place an order. Could I get a medium caramel tea cake with strawberry puree, oreo crumbles and rainbow sprinkles?

Thank you!” — @xplrnowornever

summary : “king steve” always knew how to throw a fucking rager, and who were you to miss your best friend’s party? things only get a little complicated when he sees you with some other guy’s tongue shoved down your throat.

warnings : hurt/comfort, reader and steve have liked each other since middle school  but they’re both fucking cowards abt it, suggestive content aka they make out and also there’s tit grabbing, what can i say steve harrington likes boobies, i’m not writing the smut part but it’s basically all the shit leading up to them having sex, steve and reader are both inebriated DONT HAVE SEX WHILE INEBRIATED

word count : 1.2k

You didn’t realize grad parties could become absolute ragers so fast, but those might just be the perks of parents never being around. Music is blaring, some sort of upbeat song everyone knows the words to about snorting coke that you think is fine, just a bit too loud. You shove through the crowd of drunk teens (though most would probably argue they’re adults anyway, being freshly 18), attempting to find the host, your best friend from childhood, none other than Steve Harrington. 

Attempt is the key word here, as you don’t see him anywhere. Instead, you’re taken aside by some guy, who you don’t really care enough to remember the name of. He flirts with you for a bit as the two of you stand in the kitchen beside the bowl of vodka-spiked Hawaiian Punch. You hadn’t been dating for ages, so, bored and slightly pent up, you reciprocate.

You can hardly remember what words were exchanged between the two of you. Maybe something along the lines of the guy calling you pretty and you picking invisible lint off his shirt as an excuse to touch his chest before you’re pressed up against the kitchen counter, red solo cups and your original goal of finding your friend forgotten as the guy kisses you messily. Not the best makeout session you’ve ever had, but not the worst either. Being a bit tipsy also helped you bear through it a bit. 

Lost in the stranger’s tongue down your throat, you don’t notice as Steve walks into the kitchen, searching for you. You don’t notice the way his face falls, the way the plastic cup crumples in his hand as he squeezes it a bit tighter. You don’t notice the way he turns and pushes through whatever girl was flirting with him, touching his arm, tearing his gaze away from you and the guy. 

You and the stranger swap saliva for a few torturous minutes before you break apart and you excuse yourself with a slightly condescending pat on his cheek, thanking him for the distraction from your currently-stale love life. Refilling your cup with punch, you remember the goal you previously had before being distracted by a hot guy that was a bad kisser (as most of them unfortunately are), resuming your search for Steve.

The party really is amazing. You’ve acclimatized to the noise, LEDs flashing colors making you all giggly as you continue to sip at your punch. You get distracted a few more times, dancing with a few girls, making out with some other guys, accepting a mystery gummy that was definitely an edible, but it’s also pineapple flavored, so you mark it off as okay, taking a second strawberry flavored one to give to Steve when you find him.

Some girls tell you they saw him heading upstairs as you dance around with each other, so you excuse yourself from the crowd. You to easily make your way up after refilling your drink and getting one for him, knowing the layout of his house by heart. You assume he’s in his bedroom and enter without knocking. Luckily enough, it’s Steve sitting at the edge of the bed, looking extremely dejected, and not some couple bumping uglies.

“I come bearing a gift,” you say, shutting the door behind you and setting your drink on the nightstand before sitting next to him, handing him his cup of punch and fishing the ziploc baggie with the gummy in it out of your pocket, holding it out for him to take.

He accepts the gummy, popping it into his mouth with a quiet “Thanks.”

“You good?” you ask. “Shouldn’t the host be downstairs fucking it up with everyone else? I heard there’s a keg contest about to happen soon. Aren’t you the king of those?” You poke fun at him in some attempts to lighten the mood, but some of it is due to how giggly and spacey you feel from the weed and the alcohol.

He chews and swallows before answering. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed a breather,” he says, sipping at the punch. 

Despite your state, you can tell he’s lying. “That’s a cute story,” you say, patting his knee in a patronizing manner. “What’s wrong? The doctor is in, tell me what’s up.”

“What if I don’t want to?” he argues petulantly.

“Well, then you’d be acting like a baby,” you point out. “Come on, Steve. We tell each other everything! If you tell me what’s wrong I’ll tell you about how bad of a kisser a guy I made out with earlier is.”

“Please don’t,” he practically begs.

“Why not?”

He doesn’t respond for a minute, maybe two. It feels like an hour. “Because that’s the exact thing that’s been bothering me.”

You snort. “Trust me, it’s been bothering me too. You’d think at least one guy at this party would be a good kisser but no, apparently not—”

“Stop—!” he cuts you off abruptly. “Sorry— God—”

You stare at him for a bit, a bit perturbed by his tone. “Sorry. I’ll go if you want.” You move to stand when his hand grabs at your wrist, tugging you back. 

“Don’t go— Just— Fuck.” It happens in a blur. You’re not sure when he puts his cup of punch on the nightstand or when you end up under him on the bed, your tongues and teeth clashing.

You welcome him in eagerly despite your slight confusion at his change in demeanor, sucking on his tongue, nipping at his bottom lip. “Steve,” you mumble through the haze as you feel his hands start to creep up your shirt, warm against your skin.

“I love you,” he says against your lips, voice hoarse and breathing ragged.

You laugh breathlessly, “Yeah, man, I love you too—”

“No,” he cuts you off. “No. I love you. I’m in love with you. Fuck— I think I’ve been in love with you since freshman year.”

“Why freshman year?” you ask, seemingly unphased by his declaration.

“It was homecoming. You didn’t have a date and mine stood me up. You offered to dance with me for the slow dance. That— that was it. Slow dancing in a high school gym to Taylor Swift. I don’t know why that was it but—”

It’s your turn to cut him off as your lips press against his in a softer kiss than before. “I love you too,” you speak softly against his lips.

The kiss becomes heated again quickly as his tongue seeks entrance into your mouth and you allow it, Steve’s lips trailing down your neck before he pulls back to pull off your shirt, eyes not leaving your chest.

“My eyes are up here, Harrington,” you tease, even as his hands go to grab at your tits. 

Your lips meet again and you both forget all about the party downstairs, some CharliXCX song as the background to your drunken fucking, muffled through the walls. 

Maybe twenty minutes later, the two of you are naked, curled up against each other.

“What time is it?” you ask sleepily. 

Steve glances at the alarm clock on his nightstand. “Midnight.”

“You should kick people out. So we can sleep.”

He smiles at your usage of the word ‘we’. “I’ll do that in a second. Just wanna stay here for a bit.”

You don’t argue. “Will we forget about this tomorrow?”

“I hope not,” he says, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Will you regret this tomorrow?”

“I don’t think so,” you say honestly.

“Good.”

A beat of silence passes between the two of you before you speak again. “Steve?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

a/n: she's short but sweet and also a little horny

[neveragent]

Suddenly married?

Summary: You only wanted to go out with your friends but ended up in the arms of someone.

Warning: sex and mention of rape

A/N: Don't use them as an example for relationships. You shouldn't marry this soon after meeting each other!

I was out with my friends. The evening was still young and we decided to go to a bar at the beach.

The hard deck

It seemed quite nice. Usually, I wasn't a person who was going out.

"So, how was your week?" My best friend Linda asked. "Just the usual stuff. Some emergencies... but also some people where you wonder why you think that they think that they needed to come to the ER," I summed it up. I was a doctor in the ER. It had always been my dream to help people and the ER was the only place where I felt usefull.

Amber put a shot in front of me. I looked up at her. "You know that I don't do that." "Oh, c'mon, it's weekend. Let yourself have some fun," she whined. I sighed. "Okay." She laughed and jumped around, clapping in her hands in joy.

"Okay, truth or dare?" Amber asked me, already a bit tipsy. I looked over at Linda, who was staring at her glass blankly. She always became like that when she was drunk. "Okay, dare," I answered, feeling the alcohol messing with my mind.

"Okay, you see those guys over there?" She mumbled and pointed at the pool table. There was a group of colleagues, maybe friends. According to their uniforms, they were working for the Navy. "I am drunk, not blind." "Okay, go over to them and flirt with one of them." I sighed. "Are you kidding me?" "Nope." "Okay, see you later."

I walked over, having to concentrate on not tripping. After some seconds, I reached the one with a nice smile. "Hey." He turned around with a fabulous smile. "Hey, darling." "You're having a cute smile." Yes, I was definitely drunk. "Thanks. I like yours too," he laughed.

"Who is that?" I heard a female voice behind the gorgeous man. "A beautiful woman," he answered while looking into my eyes. "I am not talking about her." He sighed and turned back to the woman and followed her gaze after that. I did the same.

A young man was sitting on a bar stool with some distance. He was wiping away the crumbs from his lap. Suddenly, he looked up. "When did you get in?" My handsome counterpart asked. "Oh, I've been here the whole time." "Man's a stealth pilot." I giggled at that comment. "Literally," another man answered. "Weapon System Officer, actually." He grinned. He was cute. And quite innocent. "With no sense of humor." The man gave his poolstick to the woman. "How about a drink?" He asked, turning around to me.

I looked back at him. "Nah, thanks." Suddenly, I was very interested in the Weapon System Officer. "Are you for real now?" I nodded and he answered with an annoyed sigh.

"What do they call you?" The woman asked as soon as the man was gone. "Bob," the cute man answered with a shy smile. "No, your call sign," a man behind the woman said. Bob looked down, hesitating. "Bob." "Bob Floyd? From Lemoore?" The young man nodded. "Lemoore, TopGun? You seem to be a good aviator," I grinned. If I hadn't been drunk, I would have never said that. I wouldn't even have interacted with them. Not because they were from the Navy (I do respect them a lot) but because I would've been too scared. I have always been an introvert.

Bob looked down in embarrassment. "Thanks." I went to him and stopped in front of him. "You're god damn cute," I whispered, touching his hair. His big innocent eyes looked right into mine. "Sorry, I am drunk." For the first time, I heard him giggle. "You're cute too." That made me smile.

I shot a glance behind him, where my friends were still standing. They laughed and seemed very entertained.

"When I am drunk, I tend to make stupid decisions sometimes..." "That's why I rarely drink." "Me neither. But my friends made me." "Doesn't sound like they're great." I huffed. "Without them I wouldn't be standing here right now." "Wanna get out of here?" I looked back into his eyes. "Yours or mine?" His eyes went wide in shock. "Oh, I... I didn't mean it like that." "Then how did you mean it?" "Maybe a walk on the beach? To sober you up again." "Gosh, you're such a sweet guy." "Just doin' what my mum taught me." "How am I supposed to know that you won't rape me?" "You can't. But I swear I won't. I would never hurt a woman." I sighed. "Okay, I'm gonna trust you on this." I grabbed his hand and dragged him outside to the beach.

"So, Bob, tell me about yourself," I said, enjoying the cold sand and water under my feet. "There isn't much to tell. My name is Bob and I fly for the Navy," he answered, shrugging his shoulders. His gaze was fixed on the ground. "There has to be more." "No, really." "Where do you come from?" "Texas. I grew up on a ranch." "A ranch? And you say there is nothing to tell about you? Tell me about your childhood on the ranch." "Okay, ehm... so, I learned riding when I was a little boy. My parents have cows..." He looked at the ocean.

"I loved those sunny afternoons where I was at the river. It was all warm, and you could smell nature. It was the best feeling in the world. I was lying in the sun for hours. My mum was always yelling at me when I came home with sunburned skin. But I was too naïve to think about it. Nowadays she always sends me sun creme for birthdays or other occasions. And I do use it. Before every flight." "That's sweet." He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't wanna have her sit next to me in the hospital one day and get another lecture." "Very smart of you." I smiled. "Now tell me about yourself." I sat down in the cold sand, thinking about what would be okay to tell him. "Before I start, you should know that I am quickly oversharing stories about myself. Tell me when to stop." He nodded. "Okay, so... I grew up in New York. My parents own a restaurant, actually. They always wanted me to take it over one day but that wasn't my world. So, I left to study medicine. Now, I am working at the ER. I have lived here for two years." "ER? Sounds like a stressful job." "It is. But I am saving lives. That feels great." "I believe that." "But sometimes..." I stopped. It was weird to speak that openly. "Sometimes what?" "Sometimes I struggle with everything. Everything feels very monotonously at the moment." "Monotonously? In the ER?" "No, not there but every other thing in my life." "I understand that. The only thing I do besides my job is going to this bar. Every Friday." I sighed and leaned my head against his shoulder.

"I have an idea." "What?" "Let's marry." "You are still drunk." "No, I am not." Of course, there was still alcohol in my blood but thanks to the wind I could think straight. "We barely know each other." "That's the whole point." Bob looked out to the sea. "I am a Navy officer. I have to travel a lot. So, either we would see each other rarely or you would also have to leave." "That's a problem for later." "And also-" He stopped when I was sitting down on his lap. "Why not doing something crazy for once in your life?" Bob was silent. For some long seconds. Then he leaned forward and smashed his lips onto mine. His were moving sloppy but with emotions. He wrapped his arms around my body and pressed us together. He tasted like mint, peanuts, and something else I couldn't identify. One of his hands wandered under my dress on my hip bone. "Okay, let's do it," he whispered. I grinned, jumped up from his lap and started dancing around. Suddenly, I was grabbed from behind and before I could realise anything else, we both were in the water. His shy personality was gone and he kissed me again. "Your uniform," I whispered. "Who cares. That's a problem for tomorrow." I laughed and pressed my lips on his once again. It was like a passionate dance. He touched my lips with his tongue and when I opened them, his was touching mine. I've never felt so good before. "So, we'll marry tomorrow?" I put some distance between our faces. "Why tomorrow and not today?" "Is the courthouse still open?" He looked at his watch. "15 minutes. We can make it if we're fast. My car is in front of the bar."

We were running to the bar, which wasn't really easy with the sand. But we made it. We rushed through it and I didn't even tell my friends where I was going. I heard the man who I was flirting with earlier saying some teasing words about Bob but didn't pay attention to it.

While Bob was driving, his pinky was connected with mine. "Do you think they'll marry us this late?" "I will find a way to convince them, trust me," he grinned. And somehow, I knew that it was the truth.

As soon as we arrived, we couldn't make it fast enough inside. The lady at the reception seemed a bit annoyed. I probably would've done as well, if I was there and two people who were soaking wet came in three minutes before closing time. "How can I help you?" "We want to get married," Bob answered. "Come back tomorrow. The person in charge did already leave." Bob reached into his pocket and pulled his Common Access Card out of it. "I am leaving for a mission and it's very likely that I won't come back. Please, let me marry her," he begged. I knew he acted but something in his eyes was also showing honesty. The receptionist grabbed the phone and called someone. After she hung up, she turned back to us again. "The Judge will be here in 10 minutes. Please, take a seat."

I was sitting on Bob's lap. "Is it true?" I whispered. "I won't leave tomorrow. But in some weeks. We don't know any details yet but I met the team. It's only the best of the best. Seems like a serious thing." "You have to come back. I don't wanna be a widow." "Tell that Phoenix. She is flying the jet. Not me." I kissed his cheek.

"You may kiss your bride." Bob leaned down to me and his lips touched mine. I giggled into the kiss and I felt Bob grinning. We signed some paperwork and went out of the courthouse.

"Where should we go? Your place or mine?" Bob whispered into the silent evening air. "Mine. We should have one night when we don't have to worry about the Navy and your mission."

He was sitting on my bed when I went out of the bathroom. "I like your place. It's cozy." "Thank you." I tiptoed towards my bed. He was leaning against the headboard, and I sat down at the end of the mattress. We were staring at each other for some minutes. No one of us knew what to do or say. Suddenly, my phone rang. "Sorry," I whispered and reached out for the mobile on my nightstand. "Hello?" "Honey, where are you?" I recognized the voice as Amber's. "Home?" She gasped. "With the Navy guy?" "With Bob, yes," I smiled. "However, I have to hang up." "Wait? Are you okay? Are you in danger? The two of you disappeared quite fast." "I am fine," I answered and hung up. "That took long for your friends to ask where you are." I shrugged my shoulders and looked back to Bob. My body was working on autopilot when I crawled on his lap. His hands were grabbing my hip. "Mrs Floyd..." I stopped in my movements when I heard my new last name. "I like that." "Me too," he whispered and kissed my lips. "What will we tell our children without setting a bad example?" "I'll tell them that I saw their mum and fell in love. So madly that we married shortly after." "You fell in love?" Was that true or just storytelling? "How could you not love a doctor who sacrifices so much to save other people? A woman who loves adventures? Who has crazy ideas?" "Nobody has ever said such nice things to me." "I can't believe that." "But it's the truth," I mumbled with tears in my eyes. "Then you should make new friends. I think Phoenix is nice. I don't really know her but I think the two of you would be great friends." "Gosh, you're so cute," I whispered and smashed my lips on his. His arms wrapped around my lower back and I reached with my hands for his glasses. I felt that he was hesitating, but I continued. I put the glasses off his nose and placed them next to my phone. "And there I was thinking you couldn't get any cuter." "T-Thanks." I started to open the buttons of his shirt. After he pulled off the white t-shirt, I was staring at his abs. "Wow. Just wow." "You don't become a naval aviator by just reading some books." "I never thought about that. Those glasses with your face just made you look... more cuddly." "Did you just call me fat?" He acted hurt. "No. There's a difference between cuddly and fat." "Are you disappointed?" I refused to answer. "Oh my god, you are!" "No. It's just... normally, I am not into trained guys. Are you one of those with their protein shakes and overly healthy food?" "I could die on any mission. Why would I waste my time with living annoyingly healthy when pizza does exist?" I smiled. "Great, then I don't have a problem with you having muscles." "That's good."

His hand wandered under my dess. I felt his soft skin running over my thigh before he pulled the fabric over my head very softly. I was thankful that I chose my lace bra instead of my everyday one. Maybe all of this was destiny. I felt his penis pressing against the fabric of his pants right between my thighs. After him also losing his beige pants, I kissed him again. His fingers were playing with my bra on my back. "You can take it off." "You sure?" I nodded and worked my way down to his neck with my lips. Finally, he snapped it open, and I threw it next to my bed, where all the other stuff was lying already. I earned a small moan from his lips. "Are you sure you wanna do this." I nodded. "And you?" "I've never been this sure of anything else ever before." He lay me down on the bed and sat down in front of my legs. After he took both of our underwear off, he took a moment when he just looked at me. It didn't feel uncomfortable. He wasn't looking at me like I was a meal he was going to devours, but like I was a piece of art. "You are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen." I was blushing. No one ever made me blush before. But Bob did it. I had a few partners before and all of them treated me like an object or a woman without needs. But Bob? He wasn't going for my boobs first. Or my vagina. He was leaning down to my lips again. Like they were saving him from drowning. "Tell me if I do something you don't enjoy, okay?" "I will," I whispered. His penis was touching my vagina, which made me gasp in surprise. It made him giggle. "You sure?" I nodded and then he slipped into me. I moaned and grabbed his back. He slipped all his way in, very slowly, so he wouldn't hurt me. I don't know how Bob did it or what kind of a god he was, but he reached my g point with his first thrust. "God, Bob, this feels so good," I moaned and digged my nails into his flesh. "Yes, it does," he squeezed out the words. He pulled out for a few centimeters before he glided back into me. His lips were pressed to the corner of my mouth when I let out another moan. My whole body was tickling. It might sound stupid since we just started, but I wasn't sure how much longer I could do this. I wasn't like Linda, who opened her legs to any male human who started a conversation with her. A lot of needs were inside of me, which made it even harder to resist the orgasm. "God, I'm close," I whispered after Bob's third thrust. "Me too," he whined. I felt his thick member gliding inside of me once more. This time, it was more sloppy and less careful. But I still liked it. I felt his vein pumping the blood through his body when he reached my g spot once again. My legs were wrapping around his torso to get him deeper. The next thrust made me scream in joy. His precum was filling me. His neck was getting sweaty, and I could smell some of his testosterone. "Oh my god, you feel so good," he whined before coming. His hot liquid was filling me up, which made me moan. His face was pressed into my neck. His right hand was grabbing one of mine from his back and pressed it on his chest. "I love you," he breathed in my ear. That did something to my brain and only seconds later, that electric feeling filled me. My hand from his back wandered to his neck and hugged him tightly. He let me ride out my orgasm and only slowed down when I was a whining mess under him. "That felt so good," he whispered. I wasn't able to say anything and just nodded. "Your cheeks are all puffy," he laughed. "And you are having tears in your eyes."

He rolled his body off of mine. I was about to play with his hair but stopped when I noticed something red on my nails. "Bob, did I hurt you?" I asked, alarmed. "No, you didn't, honey." "Bobby, turn around." He sighed and turned on his belly. Yes, I did hurt him. There were bloody prints of my nails on his back. "Oh my god, I will get something to clean it." "No, you don't have-" I was already in the bathroom.

He hissed when I put some sanitizer on it. "I am very sorry." "Don't be. And now come back to bed." "Should I get us some water first?" I asked. "No, don't worry. I just wanna cuddle." I laughed and lay down next to him. "You know? I am very excited what our future might bring us." "Me too, Bobby, me too."

[shdrum]

UNSPOKEN

choi beomgyu x male reader

summary: where you express your feelings for him through small gifts.

it started with a keychain.

a soft, cute plush bear.

now hanging from his bag, serving as a reminder. that voice still rang in his head.

'it reminded me of you.'

you and beomgyu had been sitting side by side on a lone brick wall near the college building, sipping cheap vending machine drinks and store-bought snacks.

you jolted up right— suddenly remembering something— dug into your bag, and held out the little bear.

beomgyu looked at it. then at you. then back at the keychain.

"... that for me?"

you nodded. shoving the gift into his hands.

"thought you'd like it. reminded me of you"

he tried to suppress a smile, but the small twitch of his lips betrayed him. "you think i look like one?"

"yeah. soft. kinda dumb," a teasing glint in your eyes.

"hey!" he said, giving you a playful shove.

"you do know you can just compliment me, right? no need to insult me."

"dunno. have to balance it out, i have a nonchalant persona to maintain." you replied with a smirk.

that set him off giggling, "you're so stupid."

he clipped it to the zipper of his backpack, deciding not to think too hard about it, but his chest felt a little too warm for a late fall morning.

it became a habit.

a small box containing a silver bracelet inside with a little guitar charm.

a leather-bound notebook for him write lyrics in— once you noticed it was a hobby of his.

a pack of cookies left on his desk when you realized he often forgot to bring lunch.

each time, you said the same thing.

he never made a big fuss, playing it off with playful jokes and teasing smiles.

but he kept everything. you noticed.

—

"you know," beomgyu said one day, while he laid under a tree, finding shapes in the clouds drifting past. "most people flirt with compliments."

the boy beside him stretched, arms crossed behind his head. "you think my method’s inferior?"

"i think you're oddly consistent," he replied, still gazing at the sky.

you turned to look at him. "consistency is romantic."

"...and kinda annoying." he retorted back, teasing.

you smirked. "still carrying the keychain?"

beomgyu said nothing.

he didn’t need to.

the cd came next.

it was a quiet friday night when you knocked on his dorm door, holding a plastic case with a cracked corner and messy handwriting on the front.

'soft hours. play me when...'

"you made me a mixtape?" beomgyu asked, genuinely surprised.

"don't make it weird," you mumbled. "they're just... songs for different occasions or ones i listen to when i think about you. it's whatever, really."

beomgyu's heart was doing flips. he turned over the cd, reading the tracklist, smiling to himself. "this is... really sweet."

"shut up. just play it already."

both of you sat cross-legged on the dorm floor, leaning against the edge of the bed. listening to the soft hum of acoustics and the occasional pop beats— just enjoying each other's presence.

beomgyu started returning the favor.

little things.

a tea bag labeled 'for your stress.'

a note on your desk: 'don't stress yourself out. drink water and take a nap.'

phone stickers of silly little animals.

then came winter.

snow dusted the courtyard. every student bundled in scarves and mittens, hands buried in jacket pockets.

your nose turned red. beomgyu's hands were always cold.

you didn't talk about what you were, didn't put a label to it. not yet.

but you shared more time, more space.

so when you handed him a box one late december evening—grey paper, black ribbon— beomgyu didn’t even question it.

the same gentle routine, the same phrase.

inside the box there was a small handmade ceramic parrot, imperfect. a crack in the glaze, lopsided head.

beomgyu stared at it for a long time. holding it like it was fragile, sacred; something to be preserved.

"...did you make this?"

you nodded. "took a pottery class. you said i needed a hobby,"

"why do you keep giving me things?" his voice was softer than usual, eyes searching your face for something real.

"because i don’t always know how to say things." you looked down, shrugging like it was nothing.

beomgyu took a breath. then—

"say it now."

you looked up, wide eyed. a flicker of vulnerability crossing your features.

finally you gained up the courage.

"you remind me of warm things. the kind of things that make you feel less alone, secure. i like myself when i'm with you. i don't know when i started thinking about you this way, but i did. now i can't stop."

he took a step closer. "you forgot to say something."

you blinked. "what you mean?"

"say you want to kiss me."

you stared at him. then laughed—breathless, nervous.

"i want to kiss you."

so you did.

that was the final gift.

not a mixtape. not a bracelet. not a plushy bear.

just the quiet, slow burn of feelings that had been building over time.

this moment— right here, just the two of you, felt like the most important thing you’d ever hold onto.

notes: thank you for reading! english is not my first language and feedback is very much appreciated.

[bullet-prooflove]

Do you have any NSFW headcanons for Charlie and Emery that you’re willing to share? I get it if you’re keeping a few things up your sleeve and saving for later

The few things off the top of my head under the cut because this turned into a much bigger post than originally thought.

Equality/Professionalism

It’s a very equal relationship despite there being a professional power imbalance. Charlie works very hard to make sure that there is no feeling of coercion from him in that respect. However there are sometimes when he has to pull rank and I mean, firm voice ‘that is not fucking happening’ and Em will be forced to obey even though he can see in her eyes it’s the last thing she wants to do.

How that plays out in the bedroom – They need to reset the balance.

Em is probably still pissed off when she gets home and he intentionally goads her to break the stalemate. Saying stuff like, ‘if you need to rough me up a little, slap me around to vent that frustration, go for it Em. I get off on that kind of shit.’ It turns into rough sex where it’s almost vying for control, like a fight without words. Buttons getting torn off, his lower lip being bitten, fingertip bruising. He is just as bad, pulling her hair, jamming her thighs open with his hips. Shit gets broken from the ferocity of these two going at each other. When he finally gets inside her, he’s not gentle and neither is she, he’s getting scratched up and bitten as they fuck the shit out of each other on his desk, the coffee table, the floor, wherever they end up.

Switch:

Charlie has to be dominant in his professional life, he’s a force of nature. He has to be responsible for so many people and he knows exactly how to use the carrot and the stick to achieve his goals. That kind of thing can take a real toll on a person so sometimes he needs to be taken care of, he needs to have that control stripped away so that he can relax. That’s part of what Em saw in him during that first night they had together.

While he’s not into restraints he does like the physicality of being pinned down especially if he’s struggling to get out of his own head. He likes the sensation of his wrists pinned above his head, Em’s whole body pressing against his because it makes him feel safe but also plays into the ‘being taken’ aspect. He’s not giving up control, it’s being taken from him in a safe environment.

Edging is a bit of thing for him, it’s having someone else be in charge for once. He never begs but he’s very vocal about what he’s feeling in the moment.

He enjoys praise but terms like ‘Good boy’ and ‘you’re doing so well’ don’t work for him, they’re too childlike.  It has to be more adult and specific to him like ‘you getting off on that Charlie? You like how my tongue feels on your cock?”

On the other side of this sometimes Charlie has a dominant side that comes out to play too. Sometimes this can be situational, eg: they’re at a cop bar separately for retirement drinks and he sees someone hitting on Em. That need to claim her, its fucking strong and the fact he can’t do it openly drives him a little crazy. He’ll orchestrate a situation to get her alone, it could be a smoke break, a secret text summoning her to the coat check, a dark stairwell or bathroom. It’s very much about getting her off, reminding her why she’s with him so depending on time, location and the mood he’s in < this usually depends on who has been doing the flirting with her.

Another detective: She gets to ride his fingers and then wait for his cock until they get home because that man is no match for Charlie. He knows getting her all worked up is gonna make her leave earlier so he can have her entirely to himself.

Ranked officer: More threatening because of the professional proximity and power dynamic. Em is not a good little girl but there’s a certain balancing act women have to play sometimes when a male superior officer makes a move so it doesn't decimate their career. Charlie understands that and fucking hates it. Going down on her shows he loves and appreciates her, even if she has to play that game. – you can bet after this he is running interference with that asshole knowing he’s had her coming on his tongue.

Fireman: Fucking hates them esp since one of Em’s exes was one. Will end up fucking her into the wall because seeing one flirting with her makes him completely feral. If it's the ex, it becomes 'he can't get you off like I can, can he honey?' as he's pumping into her. You can bet, he’s smirking afterwards as the night continues, knowing his cum is dripping into her panties.

Roleplay:

The glasses led to a little professor fantasy that they both didn’t know Em had. It started with Charlie doing paperwork at her house and then her climbing into his lap, commenting that maybe she’d been a bad girl and wasn’t making the grade. And maybe… just possibly there was someway she could earn it? That tapped into something Charlie did not know he was into. It ended in a little spanking, a lot of cock sucking and him coming all over her tits.

There are so many more thing I have to say but I realised how long this post was getting. If you have any specific qs about their sex life, feel free to pop them in.

[cinnamonferns]

new residents of san myshuno

thank you to @birdietrait for this base sim challenge <3

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're a Star Masterlist // Pornstar Satoru headcanons

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six

Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream.

Warnings- mentions of sex and sexwork, masturbation, mentions of drug use, weed smoking, Gojo has an OF hehe, lots of longing, pining, Satoru can't get hard if it's not you, whipped ass Satoru, explicit sexual content, angst - WC 67k 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 Playlist -Ao3 link-Headcanons below!

Pornstar Satoru is one of the most famous pornstars there are, hence him constantly wearing jet black shades and hoodies at times, he never knew just who he'd run into that would recognize him. Whether it's his flicks or his OF - he's the top .01 % - he gets a lot of notice, especially in bustling LA. But, he loves what he does, he especially loves watching his abs flex in the camera as he hits one of his lovely costars from the back.

Pornstar Satoru loves making the costars and girls he collabs with actually cum, where they're shaking and squirting all over his latex covered cock. Not that fake shit like he watches them do with other men- no Satoru makes sure to slam that curved tip against their cervix, to roll his thumb right on their clit with the perfect amount of pressure. Perhaps that's the secret to how famous he really is, along with his good looks.

Pornstar Satoru makes so much money from each shoot and is in high demand, so he can have whoever he wants as a co star. They line up to have a chance at him, watching his videos and aching for a chance to feel his cock hitting them deeper than damn near anyone could hit, to say they got to shoot with the Satoru Gojo. This just makes Satoru fuck them harder, smiling right at that camera, as women dream it's really them that have captured his pretty blue eyed gaze.

Pornstar Satoru thinks it's a pretty damn good life, being rich for fucking beautiful women on camera, as he's inhaling a blunt after a threesome shoot with his best friend - and often costar- Pornstar Suguru, as they talk about who got the girl to squirt more, right in the middle of a bouguie party in East LA. Suguru let's out a throaty laugh, while Satoru narrows his blue eyes. 'I had her cumming so hard she was shaking' he says, taking a hit and handing it back to Suguru. 'Nah, that was all for me, did you see...'

Pornstar Satoru stops listening when he sees you enter the room, completely out of place at the coke filled, booze filled party, wearing a pair of black glasses that cover half of your pretty face, and a little nervous look as you stand there, in a cute white pleated skirt and a big oversized sweater. Satoru smacks Suguru on the shoulder then and he coughs up smoke. 'Shit what is it?' Satoru looks back at you, when you're handed a drink, some guy flirting as you look down shyly. 'Who's she?' Suguru blinks a bit curiously. 'I don't know, she's pretty though'

Pornstar Satoru scowls at Suguru who snorts in laughter then. 'Satoru we don't have 'girlfriends' and she... looks like a good girl' your eyes catch his then, across the room, like something shifts as you smile sweetly, before peering at your phone, biting your lip in concentration. 'I'm talking to her' Suguru chuckles as he watches his friend, and Satoru feels his heart race when he comes too close to you, something he can't say he's felt, even pleasing countless beauties, nothing has quite altered him as your sweet turn of lips, as you look down at your converse, so out of place you're fucking adorable. 'Hey sweetheart... Satoru Gojo' he says, introducing himself with ease, expecting you to maybe notice him, get starstruck, fuck women get wet just near him, but you simply grin, and your name whispers through his mind when it spills from your lips.

Pornstar Satoru has you sitting with him later, you fall into easy conversation, you're a little gamer nerd, you love science and the environment, he just bets you were head of your ecology club in college, which you quickly confirm, all while you're in awe of just how beautiful this man is. He's sweet, he's sexy... you feel he shouldn't even be talking to you. You're pretty but... he's experienced so clearly, by every way he moves, he's worldly, so confident, and you've never really left this little part of LA, but the two of you can't stop talking, to the point you forget what brought you here.

Pornstar Satoru laughs with you, as you're sitting side by side, and he lights up a blunt, leaning back on the burgundy couch on the outskirts of the party, inhaling it deep into his lungs. 'Want a hit, sweets?' he murmurs, you take it nervously, putting it to your lips and inhaling a bit, before coughing, covering your mouth. Satoru chuckles, 'you're cute' earning your cheeks heating up. 'Can you tell I don't do this?' you're nervously tapping your leg now. 'Yeah, what does bring you here, doesn't seem your...' 'my scene?' he nods then. 'yeah, that.'

Pornstar Satoru watches avidly as you sip on your drink, wincing at the strong liquor. 'Well, my friend invited me over, but she's running late' Satoru grins now. 'Party time is different, everyone comes late, that's on time. About fifteen minutes late' 'oh no I came early!' you smack your own forehead, giggling along with him. 'Are you like... a model, or an actor?' you ask, eyeing him and his baby blues, the cheekbones so perfect, those lips that wrap the blunt again. 'You could say I'm a bit of both,' he muses, then spits out his drink when you ask 'what are you in!?'

Pornstar Satoru coughs just a bit, he's never been ashamed of what he does, but he's nervous for some reason to tell you. Why, he doesn't know. 'I'm... into some indie flicks' you brighten up then. 'Oh, let me know, I love lowkey films! I bet you're great' Satoru sighs, gulping down the rest of his drink and eyeing your cup. 'Want more?' you frown now, maybe you're asking too much, or offending this actor that you don't recognize him!? You nod, the amount of people around you making you press against this friendly, pretty white haired stranger just a little more.

Pornstar Satoru has another drink, eyeing the sea of bodies undulating in the extravagant mansion, and soon the two of you are dancing together you're cute and so awkward, Satoru's enjoying this far, far too much. He has plenty of costars and fans come up to the two of you, but he's too interested in showing you how to move your hips to pay them any mind, when finally your friend comes. Satoru instantly recognizes her, she's a pretty famous co star he's collabed with on her Onlyfans not long ago. When she sees you giggling and enjoying yourself so much, she damn near drags you away, making Satoru curse.

Pornstar Satoru eyes you when your friend whispers in your ear- 'you really don't recognize him!?' you blink curiously, looking at him more closely. 'Should I?' she sighs then, eyeing Satoru up and down. 'He was in my OF videos, we collabed' you heat up furiously then. 'I never watched your videos! I just subbed to be supportive!' she giggles. 'You're so cute, I thought you at least watched some?' you shake your head nervously. 'I don't really watch, is he... like an OnlyFans guy?' Satoru is back over with Suguru now, while you sip your drink, feeling your body warm up. 'He's the top pornstar there is, the collab was like a dream. He's really sweet but you should know is all, you're kinda...' you glare. 'kinda what?' she giggles again. 'you're just... sweet, emotional, is all'

Pornstar Satoru expects you to be done with him once you find out, after all you just seem innocent, uncorrupted for this city, not the kind of girl to be at this party where lines are being snorted off bodies, and people are naked and jumping in the pools, a heady, wild atmosphere. But you smile at him, as you murmur - 'he's sweet?' to your friend. She nods then. 'He is, but just know... he doesn't date so, it'd only be physical' you frown at that now, that's not something you think you can do, you're about as demisexual as it gets, hence your very limited experience. 'He doesn't date at all?' Your friend gently touches your shoulder. 'No, love, I'd hate to see you hurt'

Pornstar Satoru catches you before you leave later that night, when you are just feeling too out of place, his big hand wrapped around your delicate wrist, earning you looking up at him. He can't stop thinking how pretty your eyes would look rolled back, how good your lips would feel wrapped around his cock, as you relax a bit, turning and looking up. 'Headed out already?' he asks softly, you flush as you remember just what he does for a living, your friend had just described his cock in far too vivid detail. 'It's not really my thing, but I'm glad we met, Gojo' you smile so cute then, leaning up and pecking him on the cheek, his arm wraps your waist as he leans down, inhaling that sweet vanilla scent cloying to your skin.

Pornstar Satoru pulls you in closer, blue eyes staring under snowy lashes. 'Can I... get your number?' Satoru has never asked for a number a day in his life, but he delights in watching you shift nervously, nodding as you tuck your hair behind your ear. 'Yeah, I'd like that' he exchanges numbers, tilting your chin up then, watching the way your eyes dilate, the color spread on your pretty cheeks. 'She told you?' you clear your throat, nodding a bit, still being captured by his fingers. 'I don't judge at all, Gojo, I'd still like to be... friends...' your whisper is met with the most subtle kiss on your lips, shooting desire hot and heavy until Satoru releases you, plump lips smirking- 'sure, sweets, we can be friends'

Pornstar Satoru can't get you off his mind, the feel of your skin on his, the sweet sigh against his lips. He is on a big shoot and - the Satoru Gojo that never gets soft - is having trouble keeping it up, to the amusement of his costar Pornstar Sukuna. Satoru scowls at his comments, just picturing your sweet lips against his for that brief moment. A man who just fucks and fucks, and doesn't feel, is hung up just on some fucking kiss. He has to take a break after pleasing his costar with his fingers, she's cumming so much she doesn't notice, but the directors wonder why he's off. He's in his own dressing room, eyeing the phone, hands shaking as he decides to type a message - 'could you give me a picture, sweets, to save as your caller id?'

Pornstar Satoru finds his cock is right back on hard when you send one quickly, just a cute selfie with a little peace sign, but he sees your glossy fucking lips, the teeth indentations he aches to rub the tip of his cock on, along with just a hint of your breasts. Your nipples press against the thin material of your little tee shirt- Pokemon, he notices, smiling- his cock throbbing. 'Can I get one too?' you're biting that lower lip nervously as you ask, getting a picture of him shirtless then, doing nothing to stifle the curiosity in your mind, your heart racing as you seee his body. 'You at a shoot?' you ask in the messages, he hesitates before answering - 'yes' - and somehow you feel jealous of whoever his costar is. You message a - kill it, Gojo! - despite the feeling in your tummy, little do you know you're drowning his fucking mind when he performs later, feeling the star squirting all over his latex covered cock.

Pornstar Satoru can't stop texting you that week, he can't even get hard if he doesn't look at that picture, and you can't stop your curiosity, when you friend mentions he's doing a live stream. Since Satoru can hardly perform, he's decided to masturbate on live cam, in minutes making more than he'd make in a shoot, all while having your picture propped up. People are chatting, watching, dollars by the hundreds being tipped every moment, fuck he's making way more than he usually would, and he can think of you. He laughs softly, abs flexing as he hits the right angle, reading the comments, making you dripping wet, this isn't what you do!?

Pornstar Satoru is stroking his wet, slick cock that's glistening, up and down with his huge hand, and you feel your pussy clench, breath coming faster, unsure whether to look away or keep staring, meanwhile he's picturing you in all sorts of positions, on your knees, a fucking mating press. He's shutting his eyes for a moment, grinning as the viewers go crazy. 'I know, it's pretty, huh?' he spits right on that long, veiny cock of his, pinching his pink tip and whining, white lashes fluttering open right when he sees a familiar name enter the chat.

Your name.

Pornstar Sukuna hcs here // Pornstar Suguru hcs here // Onlyfans Nanami hcs here

Kofi link (if you feel generous & wanna buy me a ☕️

[em1i2a3]

Lovers

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader

Summary: The Thunderbolts go to a club downtown for the night, and while there Bob and Sentry are having a tough time watching you flirt with a guy.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut, Fluff, and Jealousy (the spicy triforce). Bob and reader are both aware of each other's feelings but want to remain friends to not ruin the team dynamic in case things go sour. Sentry is extremely jealous in this, and we love jealous Sentry I say…He’s also a bit possessive but…That’s him lol, Bob is just trying to be a good guy and keep things calm, but Sentry is really ripping into him for fumbling the ball.

Smut Warnings: Semi-Public Sex (happens in a private washroom, but it’s inside a club), Unprotected P in V (hahahaha…please wrap it up), Fingering, Oral Sex (fem! Receiving), and a Praise/Worship Kink cause Sentry and Bob are pleasers just trying to stake their claim lol, there’s also light choking, and some dirty talk….And Overstimulation to a degree. And some aftercare.

Author’s Note: Jesus lord, I loved this request, and I loved the ideas that came from it, and thank you so much for requesting it! It was so fun to write this possessive type of Sentry, and I loved writing the clashing dialogue between Bob and Sentry too. Whew, thank you again @leopard-skin-pillbox-hat-ok for such a fun little thing!

Word Count: 10,244

The music was thrumming like a heartbeat Low, slow, and thick with heat. Everything in the club was moving like smoke–dark, senseless, and breathless. The lights stuttered across the floor like strobe-starved lightning, painting bodies in quick colourful flashes of red, violet, blue, and green.

But Bob wasn’t looking at the lights, or the crowd, or the Coke Zero he hadn’t touched, or even his teammates–who were scattered around the booth behind him, too caught up in cheap liquor, bottles of beer, and loud conversation to notice the slow-motion train wreck unraveling across the club floor.

His attention was on you, and it felt like he was two minutes away from being pronounced dead.

You were standing at the bar with your back turned slightly to him, talking to some guy with a drink in his hand and too much confidence in his stance. It looked like he had forgotten to button his shirt up completely and his chest was puffed out and exposed like he was a bird trying to perform a mating call of sorts. It was easy to spot how he was flirting with you, he would lean in close and say something, and you would return the favour by doing the same. Bob swore every time you moved closer to him it felt like the world was shifting beneath his feet.

Because your dress was–

”God made flesh.” That’s what Sentry had called it the moment he saw you walk out of your room tonight, and he hadn’t shut up since.

It was satin, maybe. Something dark and indulgent and soft. It hugged you like heat and spilled ink–clinging to every line of your body like it had been painted there. The hemline flirted with your thighs as you shifted your weight, fluttering like it was in love with your legs.

And those legs–Bob was going to have a stroke. They were crossed casually at the ankle, and the muscle of your calves were perfectly defined in heels that made your whole stance shift in the kind of way that rewired his brain chemistry. They pushed your hips out just enough to make his breath catch. Your waist cinched so elegantly it looked like it had been sculpted. And your skin–which was shimmering in the club lights–looked like something a god would ruin themselves to touch.

And that’s exactly what was happening.

“Look at her,” Sentry hissed from somewhere behind Bob’s ribs. Every syllable was thick with acid, and pure, unobstructed worship, “She’s glowing…And so fucking open tonight. She should be at our side. In our lap. Not fawning over that little man-child with mousse in his hair.” Bob’s jaw clenched at the rage that echoed through his head.

”S-She’s not fawning,” He muttered under his breath, his knuckles going white around the glass of Coke Zero he was holding, “She’s j-just being friendly.” He added, fluttering his lashes in the strobed haze.

“Look at her. She’s leaning in! He touched her hip when she laughed, did you happen to miss that part?” Bob let out a huff.

”I didn’t miss anything.” He replied, bringing the rim of the glass up to his lips to cover the way his mouth was slightly moving.

“Then explain why you’re sitting here doing nothing while he tries to take what’s ours.” Bob exhaled through his nose, slow and shaky, taking a fake sip of the carbonated beverage, feeling his grip tightening around it slightly, like he was going to possibly break it. “You made the choice. Not me. I would’ve taken her in our bed by now. I would’ve lit the fucking sky gold with the sound of her voice.” Bob dropped his hand to his thigh, fingers digging into the loose denim of his jeans–the ones you had convinced him to buy–like he could claw the heat out of his skin.

Across the club, you tilted your head back to laugh. That kind of laugh. The one Bob had heard a hundred times–but never when it wasn’t his words that caused it.

And you looked–God, you looked like every dream he wasn’t allowed to have anymore. One hand resting lightly on the bar, nails painted in something subtle that caught the colored lights like stardust. Your other hand gestured as you spoke, animated and bright, your shoulder dipping as you leaned in again, saying something to the guy–who took it as an invitation to move closer. He was smiling. He was saying something back.

You nodded at him, smiling with the widest one you had, and tapped your glass against his before taking a sip.

Bob’s eyes followed the movement of your throat as you swallowed, his heart beating too loud in his ears.

“She’s not even thinking about us.”

“S-Shut up,” Bob hissed quickly, but it was loud enough to make Walker glance over briefly before going back to his beer and the conversation the rest of the group were having behind him.

“You think you were noble, don’t you? Waiting, respecting her and the team…You think that means something when someone else can just step in and touch her like that?” Bob wiped the sweat off his brow, as the heat began to curl within him, but it didn’t seem to help. He could feel it–the static under his skin, like something golden and furious was trying to claw its way out from inside him.

“You said no to her. You told her she was too important to risk. Now look at her.” You pushed your hair out of your face with a laugh and turned just enough to give Bob a partial view of your profile. The lips gloss he watched you apply at the beginning of the evening in the reflection of someone’s car window glistened. The lights behind the bar lit up your eyes like candlelight through amber glass, and you still didn’t see him looking.

That hurt worse than anything.

He shifted in the booth, uncomfortable in his own skin, and burning hot. His foot tapped against the sticky floor beneath the table, a stuttering rhythm that matched the beat of the music–or maybe it was matching his panic.

“This is when I wish I had my own fucking body,” Sentry growled, “At least then I could make my own decisions instead of running them by a human who’s afraid of his own fucking heartbeat.” Bob flinched. It was small. Barely a tremor across his shoulders. But the heat that followed was almost unbearable, as it sunk into his bloodstream. It pulsed beneath his skin like magma, like light trying to find the cracks in his weak mental armour. His fingers twitched against the table, then he curled them into a fist before dropping it into his lap, trying to hide the shaking in his hand.

“She should be with us,” Sentry snapped, “I’d be on my knees every night for her, I’d hold her in my arms and love her the way she deserves, and she certainly wouldn’t be pressed against some arrogant fuck like that.” Bob’s eyes flicked back to you, just in time to see it. The guy’s hand moved to your waist, sliding around to pull you in closer. His mouth was way too close to your ear, and your face tipped slightly toward him, smile still soft, lips parted.

And Bob–snapped.

His body lurched forward like something had yanked him by the ribs, and the booth creaked. The table shook when his knee slammed into the bottom of it.

Walker and Ava both turned their heads at the sound, but Bob didn’t move forward again.

He sat back down, hard, chest heaving. His elbows braced on the table. His hands pressed flat to the surface to steady himself, shaking. And the golden light beneath his skin flickered–just for a second–visible, crawling like electricity beneath his veins.

“Bob?” Yelena’s voice cut through the haze like a blade. Her brows were drawn, beer still in hand. She leaned across the table. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer, he didn’t even try to look up at her. He was staring at the floor, like it was safer than looking back up at you.

“Tell her to back off. Tell her we’re in the middle of planning out how to quietly rip the arm off that guy touching Y/N…”

“Bob.” Yelena’s voice sharpened, knocking on the table in front of him, “Hey.” His jaw clenched.

”I’m fine. I-I’m fine.” He responded, feeling a bead of sweat dripping down his temple.

”Bullshit.” She shot back. Then she was moving around the table, boots scuffing the floor. Bob tried to avoid her, turning his face away, but she caught him by the jaw fast, fingers sharp and rough, twisting his head toward her. The moment her eyes met his, she immediately connected the dots.

”Oh Jesus Christ.” She hissed, realizing his eyes weren’t just blue anymore, they were streaked with little tendrils of gold exploding in the irises and hazing over the pupils.

“Let me take it from here,” Sentry whispered, “Clearly you’re not handling it.”

“I-I said I’ve got it.” Bob groaned, squeezing his eyes shut like he could shove Sentry back down by sheer willpower.

“Got what?” Walker called from across the table, leaning his arm along the backrest, “What’s going on with him tonight?” He asked, motioning to Bob. Yelena didn’t answer. She was too busy calculating how far they were from the nearest exit. Bob rubbed a hand over his face, trying to cool the flush from his cheeks, trying to breathe through the pulse climbing in his throat.

”I’m controlling him,” He muttered, “He’s pissed but I’m controlling it.” Walker leaned forward a bit, catching the gold that began to shimmer even more in Bob’s irises.

”Doesn’t look like it,” He commented, eyes narrowing at the shimmer that caught in the strobe lighting, then slowly Walker's gaze drifted across the club, over the pulsing bodies, and past the sharp glow of the bar lights–landing on you.

You were still tucked close to that guy, still laughing, and still glowing in that dress, like the universe was trying to punish Bob through you. Walker’s face twisted in understanding, his lips twitching up with cruel amusement.

”Oh,” He drawled, “Ohhhhhh.” Yelena didn’t even look up to him, she kept her eyes trained on Bob.

”Walker, I swear to god.” She warned, already hearing the chaos brewing in his tone.

“You guys look parched. I’m gonna get another beer,” He said, grabbing a spare glass off the table, “And maybe a water for Bob before his brain starts draining out of his ears.” Walker added, pushing himself up from the booth, stretching like he had all the time in the world.

”Walker!” Yelena snapped, but it was too late, he was already moving.

“Oh good,” Sentry crooned inside him, smug and mocking, “Walker. A real man. Watch and learn, Bob. A simple waltz up to the bar, a charming line, a hand on her arm–easy extraction.” Bob let out a long, agonizing groan, pressing a trembling hand to his temple to try and ease the headache that was starting to bloom.

Meanwhile, Walker was on the move. He weaved through the crowd with a practiced ease, long strides–relaxed in the most approachable way possible–glass in one hand, beer bottle in the other. The lights flickered across his white t-shirt and a few girls near the edge of the dance floor gave him lazy once-overs as he passed. He smiled–small, effortless–and tipped his head in greeting, before continuing his journey. He didn’t stop until he was directly beside you.

You didn’t notice him at first, you were too wrapped up in whatever your bar companion was saying. But the moment Walker’s shoulder nudged yours gently, you turned–surprised–and the guy’s arm slipped from behind your back, falling away like it had never belonged there to begin with.

”Hey,” Walker said casually, setting the beer and the empty glass down on the bar, “Fancy seeing you still upright. Thought you’d be buried in that guy’s awful smelling cologne by now.” You raised an eyebrow at him, confused and slightly amused.

”Excuse me?” You said, watching Walker lean in just enough for the crowd and the music to blur around you both, his voice low and loaded with too much amusement to be harmless.

”You might want to ease up on the flirting…Bob’s halfway to going supernova back at the booth.” He said, propping his elbow onto the bar. He smelled like strong wheat from the beer he was nursing, but he still seemed levelheaded enough to know what he was saying to you.

“Bob?” You questioned.

”Yeah,” Walker nodded toward the table, where Bob sat with his head in his hands. From where you stood you could see the faint glow of the veins in his forearms, like someone had poured sunlight into them, with the crown of his hair fluffed and messy–probably from him ruffling it in his hands. “You know–your broody golden retriever…The one who’s got the sleeper build of a house?”

“He’s not–“ You huffed, “He’s not mine…” Walker snorted at the comment.

”Could’ve fooled me. Pretty sure you own at least seventy percent of his emotional stability and sanity at this point.” Your eyes narrowed at him as you took a sip from your diluted tequila pineapple.

”We agreed, okay? It was mutual. We said it would be a bad idea–if things went wrong–“ Walker held up a finger.

”Right, right. Let me stop you there, Professor Logic. Because right now Bob’s glowing like a fucking star over there and Sentry has been pacing inside his skull, dying to come out. So clearly this little ‘mutual’ agreement is not really holding up.” You stiffened.

”He hasn’t;’t said anything.” Walker laughed under his breath.

”Of course not. It’s Bob. He’d rather implode than inconvenience anyone. But maybe you should go get your sight checked, sweetheart, because you’re acting absolutely blind if you think feelings just vanish because you both agreed to not ‘ruin the team’.”

“Hey, that's not fair.” You muttered.

”Isn’t it?” He shot back, standing a little straighter, “You’re over here flirting up a storm while Bob’s swallowing the sun god. He wanted you. He still wants you, and just because he respects the boundaries you two have, it doesn’t mean y’all are fully over things. Get what I’m saying?” You glanced again toward the booth–just in time to see Bob brace his hands against the table like it was the only thing anchoring him to this plane of existence. Even across the room, you could see the way his chest was rising and falling too fast. The light beneath his skin had intensified–glimmering like heat lightning under the surface of his forearms.

Your voice dropped low. “What do you expect me to do?”

Walker blinked at you, incredulous. “I don’t know, go over there and calm the guy down? Maybe take him somewhere private and talk to him before he fucking levels the building?” He leaned in a little closer, his tone dropping into something more serious, less flippant. “Y/N, it’s Sentry. He doesn’t particularly have a track record for waiting or being nice about things that don’t go his way…God complex. Remember?”

You swallowed, nerves climbing up your throat like vines. “And you think I have that kind of power?”

Walker didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smirk. He just looked at you with the flattest, most terrifyingly honest expression you’d ever seen on him.

“I’m very sure you’ve got his soul in your hands by this point,” He said, voice sharp and quiet. “Now go. Before the floor starts vibrating.”

You hesitated, looking back at Bob again–he was shaking. Hands trembling like static was crawling up his arms, light flaring under his skin in pulses that didn’t sync to the music anymore. His jaw was clenched. His whole body coiled like a live wire seconds from snapping.

Walker’s hand landed briefly on your shoulder, grounding. “Go, Y/N.”

You didn’t need to hear anything else.

You set your glass down with a soft clink, the condensation from the cup already dampening your fingertips. Then you moved–shoulders squared, eyes locked, heart racing harder than the music pulsing through the club’s foundation.

The crowd pressed around you like water, dense and shifting. Heat clung to your skin, sticky with sweat and perfume–an overwhelming blend of cheap gin, sugar-rimmed cocktails, body spray, smoke, and that faint metallic tang of overstimulation. Neon light sliced through the dark like a broken kaleidoscope–flickering greens, bleeding reds, and deep violet strobes that stained everything in shadow-glow and fleeting brilliance.

You pushed past a couple tangled together mid-dance, the woman’s laugh sharp and high-pitched, her partner’s cologne a cloud of amber and pine that made your nose twitch. Your heels stuck momentarily to the floor in patches–spilled beer or soda underfoot–but you didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. Because you could see him now.

Bob.

He looked like he was breaking open.

Yelena was still in front of him, tense and braced with her arms folded, her whole body coiled like she was trying to intercept a detonation. You reached her, placed your hand firmly on her shoulder. She looked up at you, eyebrows already drawn–but one glance at your face was all it took. She didn’t say anything. Just nodded once, jaw tight, and stepped aside to return to her original spot in the booth.

And then–Bob.

His head lifted, slowly.

And when his eyes found yours–it was like gravity halted in his mind.

The gold in his irises was brighter now, sparking outward like little sunbursts, threads of molten light veining toward his pupils. But it was the look on his face that undid you. The moment he realized it was you, standing there, reaching for him. All of that raw, volatile tension melted into something that looked like disbelief. Like hope.

His shoulders dropped a fraction. Not relaxed–no, he was never fully relaxed when he was like this–but the storm behind his eyes shifted, just enough to make room for something else. Something softer. The glow faltered like a candle wick flicked by breath, almost like it was a display of relief.

Slowly you reached forward–not grabbing, not pulling, but touching–and let your fingertips drag over his forearms, before your hands found his wrists. You could feel his skin burning, damp from sweat, and his pulse was bounding against your touch, as if something was ready to snap beneath the surface. You curled your fingers around his wrists with deliberate gentleness, and leaned forward.

The light behind you turned gold for a moment–just a flare, like the universe was echoing the chaos inside him. Then the shadows returned, and it was just you in front of him, wrapped in heat and pulse and light. Then your scent hit him–it wasn’t perfume in the traditional sense. Not heavy. It was perfectly you.

It was citrus first–sharp, bright, alive. Like cracked-open blood orange rinds in summer. Zest clinging to skin. Tangy and awakening. Then came the softer notes. Something warmer underneath. A trace of sugar and salt and skin–like sunlight on bare shoulders and the faintest whisper of crushed mint leaves. It was dizzying. It was you. The way you always smelled when you were flushed and warm and a little too close. Bob inhaled like he was starved of it, and Sentry sucked it in like it gave him a new life source.

Then you leaned even closer.

Your body was just shy of touching him, but he felt the heat of you radiating off your skin. Like you were burning through your dress, through the space between you. He could see the outline of your shoulder rising and falling with each breath–too fast. Just like his.

Then–your voice.

It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It was spoken directly into the space beside his neck, close enough that he could feel the shape of the words before he could understand them. Your breath was warm, and carried the scent of alcohol on it–sweet, sharp, sticky.

Pineapple juice. Cool and sugary. The bite of cheap tequila clinging to the edge. And something cooler than that–mint, from whatever cocktail you’d been nursing. It made the air between you feel electric.

“Come with me,” You said, your lips barely brushing the shell of his ear, voice low, tight. Bob’s pulse stuttered. His mouth parted on instinct, like he wanted to say your name, or please, or thank you, or yes, but nothing came out.

Only a nod.

His whole body moved like it wasn’t his own–shoulders curving toward you, the heat in his veins recalibrating, his spine straightening just enough to stand.

You didn’t let go of his wrist as you pulled him through the crowd.

He followed behind like a shadow tethered to your spine–quiet, massive, burning with a light that wasn’t fully human. Every step sent heat crawling along your skin, your grip on him like a lifeline.

You moved fast, past the dance floor and toward the back hallway lined with faux-industrial brick and flickering sconces trying too hard to mimic candlelight. The music was muffled here, pulsing through the drywall like a heartbeat trapped behind ribs.

The private washroom door stood at the end of the hall–sleek, black, and marked with a gold “STAFF ONLY” plaque. You didn’t hesitate. Just reached for the handle, shoved it open, and dragged Bob in after you.

The door shut with a click that sounded louder than a gunshot. Then the lock turned under your fingers–decisive, final.

It was dim inside.

Not in the way that suggested filth or neglect–but in a way that almost felt…deliberate. The club had clearly spared no expense here. There were soft amber bulbs tucked behind frosted glass sconces, casting a faint, honeyed glow that made the marble counters shimmer faintly. The walls were a deep slate gray, matte and textured, broken only by a massive, ornately framed mirror that stretched across the length of the main wall above the sink. The countertop was pristine, black quartz polished to a gleam. A vase of dried eucalyptus sat beside the soap, filling the air with a clean, herbal sharpness that cut through the lingering sweat and smoke on your skin.

The moment you turned to face him, Bob was already braced near the sink, one hand gripping the edge like he needed it to keep standing. His chest was heaving. The golden veins beneath his skin were glowing more than ever–flickering like wire left too long in the fire.

You crossed the room, slow but steady, until you were standing just in front of him–barely breathing–with a bit of space between the two of you so you weren’t crowding him.

“What the hell is going on with you tonight?” Your voice was a mix of caution and heat. Not cold. Not scolding. But demanding in a way only someone who knows the truth of a person could manage.

Bob didn’t answer. His eyes flicked up to yours, and for a second, it wasn’t just him.

It was both of them. Bob and Sentry.

That glow behind his irises was too alive. Too bright. His jaw was locked, his pulse hammering visibly in his throat, the cords in his neck drawn tight like wires on the verge of snapping. When he didn’t speak, you stepped closer.

“I thought we agreed,” You said, softly. “We said it was a bad idea. That it could ruin everything.”

Bob finally opened his mouth, but the voice that came out was not fully his.

“That wasn’t my agreement.” His tone was deeper. Not menacing, but vast. Like something old and radiant had peeled up from beneath the surface of his soul. His shoulders twitched like he was trying to contain something stretching underneath his skin.

You stared at him, mouth parted slightly.

“I didn’t get a say,” Sentry added through him, his tone thick with restrained hunger. “He locked me out of that conversation. Said it wasn’t safe. Said you deserved better than both of us. But I’ve been watching him crumble over you every night since…And it’s not fair to me that I need to watch that when I have no choice but to follow whatever he says!” Bob jerked his head slightly, like he was trying to shake the voice off, but you saw it–the way his pupils dilated, the way his hand on the counter tightened until the stone cracked faintly under his palm.

“That guy–” Bob’s voice finally surfaced, raw and hoarse. “T-The way he touched you–your waist–your shoulder–” His throat bobbed. “I couldn’t breathe.”

You stepped closer to him, still not enough to invade his space.

“I wasn’t going to do anything with him.”

“That doesn’t matter,” He croaked. “Y-You were smiling like that. You were laughing. Not at my words. A-And he got to touch you.” His hands curled, trembling, and you realized then: he wasn’t angry at you. He was in agony.

“Bob…” You breathed.

“I told myself I could handle this. I thought–I thought staying away w-would make it easier,” He whispered, forehead bowing like he was seconds away from collapse. “But then I s-saw you tonight, and you were just–fucking perfect–and all I could think was how badly I-I wanted to touch you. Not Sentry. Not the god. Just me.”

Your breath hitched.

The air in the room shifted–less like breathlessness now, and more like a burn. A shared ache. The kind you only ever get from not touching someone you need.

“You think I don’t want you too?” You whispered, eyes locked on his, not daring to move. “You think that was easy for me either? You think I don’t go back to my room every night and have to lie in a bed that smells like you from your laundry detergent leaking into my sheets?” Bob’s breath hitched–his whole chest trembling with it. His lips parted like he might say something, but he didn’t. He just stared at you with that look. Like you were the only thing keeping him stitched together. Like if he blinked, you might vanish.

Your next breath barely made it out. “I want you. Even when I try not to. Even when I say I don’t.” There was a long pause in the room, just the sound of your breaths and the thumping bass of the music outside the enclosure of the washroom.

Then suddenly, Bob moved.

It wasn’t violent. It wasn’t even rough. But it was immediate. Like something inside him snapped loose and came tearing to the surface. His hands were on your face in less than a second—big and hot and trembling at the edges. One cupped your cheek, the other cradled the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as his forehead dipped to yours. The air between you ignited.

And then he kissed you.

It was not sweet.

It was not soft.

It was desperate–an open-mouthed, spine-scorching, knee-buckling kind of kiss that tasted like panic and longing and gold-lit hunger all poured into one unsteady breath. His mouth slanted over yours like he was trying to carve your shape into his bones, like he was afraid he’d never get another chance. And God, he kissed like he needed you to keep existing–like he’d die if he didn’t.

You gasped into it, just once–surprised not by the kiss, but by the heat behind it–and the second your knees gave a tremble under your heels, Bob caught you.

He growled low against your mouth, not Sentry, not quite Bob–just that middle place where desire lives. His arm locked around your waist, and he spun you with frightening ease. Your back hit the cool edge of the quartz sink counter, and then his hands were everywhere–gripping your hips, dragging them flush to his, his fingers digging into the hem of your dress like he couldn’t figure out whether to lift it or tear it.

You moaned into his mouth–quiet, bitten off–and he groaned back, kissing you harder, deeper, messier.

It was sloppy. Wet. Your lips sliding together again and again as your breaths came sharp and heated. His tongue brushed yours and it felt like fire jumped between your ribs. You couldn’t even think. You were clinging to his shirt like it was the only thing holding you upright.

Bob pulled back just a fraction–just enough to pant against your lips, his breath catching on every syllable.

“You’re not stopping me,” He whispered, voice shredded with disbelief, “You’re not telling me to stop–”

You kissed him again before he could finish, grabbing his jaw, tilting him into you, dragging your teeth across his bottom lip as his hips pressed tighter against yours. And God, the way he reacted–his fingers twitching against your waist, his hips stuttering forward like he couldn’t help himself.

“G-God,” He hissed, and the heat of it pulsed out of him like an aftershock.

His hands dropped to the backs of your thighs, slowly despite the chaos. His palms swept up your legs–warm, wide, shaking–until he was holding you just beneath the curve of your ass. Then he lifted. You gasped as he hoisted you effortlessly up onto the counter, the cold stone biting against your skin through the dress, the sensation making your spine arch.

Bob stepped between your knees and immediately pressed himself against you again, lips finding yours in a kiss so deep it tilted your head back. His hand slid up the column of your neck, cradling your jaw, his thumb brushing just beneath your ear like he needed to memorize every inch of you.

And then–he moaned.

Not loud, but raw. Pained. Like the taste of you was killing him and healing him at the same time. His tongue swept into your mouth, slow and slick, and your hands tangled in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan again–deeper this time, almost guttural.

His hips rocked once into yours, slow and hot, grinding into the space between your thighs, and you gasped against his mouth, your nails digging into his shoulders. It felt like every part of him was begging for contact, like he was trying to melt into your skin. His fingertips dug into your waist as he pressed his hips forward again, slower this time, savouring the way your body responded to him, how your thighs widened even more to cradle his body.

Your fingers untangled from his hair, reached down to curl your fingers around the wrist of the hand that held your waist, guiding him toward the skin of your thigh, skin to skin–your dress had ridden up high enough that he could feel the heat of you radiating through the minimal barrier you still wore. His breath caught. You pulled back from the kiss just enough to whisper.

”Touch me.” The syllables broke him open immediately. He didn’t ask if you were sure. Bob’s hand slid upward–slow, shaking–and then it was there. The pad of his fingers brushed the damp, sheer fabric stretched over your aching core, and he gasped so sharply his forehead thudded softly against yours.

“Oh–God–” He whispered, voice breaking on the edges. “You’re already–J-Jesus, you’re so wet.”

You whined, head tilting back slightly, lips brushing his jaw, and Bob nearly lost it right then.

“Is it for me?” He breathed, fingers still resting there, just barely pressing into the heat between your legs. His voice trembled, and it wasn’t just Bob anymore. Sentry laced every syllable with awe and hunger.

“Tell me it’s for me,” He begged.

You nodded, lashes fluttering, as heat crept up onto your cheeks. “Always for you.”

He let out a noise–half groan, half prayer–and his hand moved. Gentle at first, like he was afraid to break you. His thumb found your clit through the soaked fabric, rubbing in slow, languid circles. Just enough pressure to tease, not enough to satisfy. Your thighs tensed around his hips, your fingers curling into his shirt.

“Oh my god, Bob–”

That shattered him.

His mouth dropped to your neck, open and hot, breath thick against your pulse as he worked you with growing intensity. He mouthed at your skin–kissed and nipped his way up to the underside of your jaw while his fingers kept moving, pressing deeper now, sliding the soaked fabric aside with a gentle kind of desperation. His fingertips met your slick heat, and the soft, wet sound of it made him moan like he was being touched instead of you.

“Y/N,” He rasped, “You’re d-dripping… I h-haven’t even done anything to you yet–Jesus”

He slipped two fingers between your folds, not inside–just gliding through the mess you’d already made for him. His thumb resumed its rhythm on your clit, and your whole body jolted in response, a soft cry leaving your lips. Bob was panting.

“I wanna drop to my knees. I wanna taste you. Right here. Right now. Please.” The words were guttural. Frantic. Worshipful. Sentry was behind them, clawing upward like holy fire, but Bob was still there–guiding him with restraint, grounded by the weight of your body in his hands.

You grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him towards you, crashing your mouth into his again. He kissed you like he was drowning and your breath was the only oxygen that could save him.

Without breaking the kiss, without warning, two of his fingers slipped inside you–slow, thick, and deliberate.

You gasped into his mouth–sharp and shuddering–your spine bowing against the sink as your thighs clamped tighter around his hips. The stretch made your legs tremble. You fluttered around him, hot and soaked and so desperate for him it almost hurt.

Bob groaned like the feel of you was enough to knock him out cold.

“Oh–God,” He hissed against your mouth, his forehead dropping to yours as he stilled his hand for just a moment, overwhelmed by how tight and wet you were. “Jesus Christ… You’re so perfect inside. So warm–clenching around me like you need it.”

His fingers curled inside you.

You moaned–loud and broken–your body jerking in his grip. The sound echoed in the marble and tile of the washroom, obscene and beautiful.

“Y-Yes,” You whimpered, nails digging into his shoulder blades, “Don’t stop–Bob–please don’t stop–”

His mouth kissed down your jaw, hot and open, and his other hand slid up your throat–giving it a gentle squeeze, holding you steady like he didn’t trust anything else in the room to support you. His fingers began to move inside you–deep and slow, keeping them curled just right, searching for that perfect spot. His thumb stayed at your clit, rubbing in firm, tight circles, coaxing more slick from your body with every grind of his palm. Every stroke was deliberate. Precise. Designed to make you fall apart for him.

“So good for me,” he breathed against your neck, his voice cracking with need, “So fucking pretty like this. Dripping for me, clenching around me—fuck, baby, you’re singing for it.”

You whimpered again, your thighs shaking.

“I knew you’d be like this,” He groaned, thrusting his fingers deeper, harder now, the wet sounds of it nearly enough to make you come on their own. “So fucking sensitive. I bet you could come just like this–on my hand–if I kept going. You want that? You wanna soak my fingers?”

You couldn’t even speak. You nodded, breath hitching, your mouth open in a silent plea.

Sentry surfaced again in his voice–darker, deeper, reverent.

“She was made for this,” He growled from behind Bob’s teeth. “For us. Look at how she falls apart–so soft for us. So fucking holy between her legs–”

Bob kissed your cheekbone, your temple, your jaw, between every ragged syllable, his fingers never stopping their rhythm, driving deeper, stroking harder.

“I’d worship you every day if you let me,” He whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear now. “I’d wake you up with my mouth, I’d pray at your thighs–I’d give up the sky if it meant I could die with you wrapped around my fingers like this.”

Your breath hitched violently, knowing it was still Sentry projecting through Bob’s mouth.

He kissed the hinge of your jaw, and then the corner of your mouth, his thumb pressing firmer against your clit as he felt you start to pulse harder around him.

“Y-You’re close, aren’t you?” He panted, his voice breathless and holy, “I can feel it. God, I-I can feel it. Let go for me, Y/N. Let go–come for us–please.”

And with a soft, choked sob, you did.

You shattered around his hand, back arched, mouth parted in a desperate cry as your orgasm slammed through you like a wave of white-hot electricity. Your walls fluttered and clenched around his fingers as your thighs shook and your hands clawed for purchase against his shoulders, his chest–him.

Bob groaned like your orgasm was something he could feel.

He didn’t pull away.

He kept his fingers deep inside you, slowly working you through it, coaxing every last tremor from your body with soft murmurs against your throat.

“That’s it…You’re such a good girl.” He rasped. The voice had shifted–richer now. Darker. It vibrated behind your ear like a drumbeat made of light and thunder. Reverent. Possessive. Starved.

Sentry, of course it was him.

You barely had time to react before his hand slowly slipped free from you–slick, trembling, and soaked. You gasped as he dragged his fingers up, just enough for the cool air to kiss your wetness and make your thighs twitch. And then–

He lifted them to his lips.

He licked you off himself with obscene patience, tongue flattening to savor the taste, eyes fluttering shut for just a second like he was drinking in divinity.

A low, broken moan rumbled in his chest. “Mmm–fuck, you taste like you were made for me.”

When his eyes opened again, they weren’t just Bob’s anymore.

Still blue–but ringed in a molten glow so vivid it felt like looking at the edge of the sun. Gold flecked and shimmering. Two forces inside one gaze, breathing in sync. Worship and hunger, restraint and ruin.

Both of them.

“You feel that?” He murmured, pressing his forehead to yours as his still-wet fingers traced the curve of your jaw, smearing your slick along your cheek like a mark. “That was you. That light in me. That burn. You’re what keeps us sane.” Another kiss–softer, gentler, but so hot it made your breath hitch.

“I need more,” Sentry groaned, voice rasping like smoke and lightning. “I need to taste it from the source.”

You swallowed thickly, still panting, your thighs twitching as aftershocks rolled through you. He kissed the corner of your mouth again, and then dropped his lips to your throat, mouthing at your pulse point as he whispered, “Help me. Help me take these off you.”

Your panties.

His hands were already sliding beneath the hem of your dress, brushing along the backs of your thighs as he began to drag the soaked fabric of your underwear down inch by inch, reverent as a priest unwrapping holy cloth. It clung to you–drenched, ruined–and Sentry groaned when you lifted yourself up slightly so the fabric slipped past the curve of your ass. You wiggled around, as he slid the underwear off you completely, crumpling them up in his hand, like he was planning on holding them the entire time–or to steal them so he could have them as a keepsake to remember this night.

He dropped to his knees in front of you like a man possessed, the dress bunched up at your hips now, your bare thighs spread on either side of his broad shoulders.

The sight of him down there–gold-flecked eyes wide, flushed lips parted, hair wild from your hands–it was nearly enough to make you come again.

“You’re the altar,” Sentry said, voice low and trembling with need, “And I’m the fucking disciple.”

And then his mouth was on you.

No hesitation.

No teasing this time.

Just devotion.

His tongue licked a long, slow stripe up your dripping slit, and he moaned–loudly–like he was finally allowed to breathe again. Then he latched onto your clit with a kind of desperate reverence, flicking it, sucking it, licking it in the exact rhythm he’d found with his fingers.

His hands slid up your thighs–warm and huge and trembling–and gripped your hips, holding you in place as he worshipped you with his mouth. Every movement, every wet sound echoed in the marble air. His groans blended with your broken moans, his tongue devouring you like he was starving.

You threw your head back, one hand flying to the counter behind you, the other tangling in his hair.

“Sentry–Bob–fuck…Both of you…Please–”You begged, panting like you were in heat. Your voice only fueled the hunger.

He growled into you, the vibration sending another jolt through your spine, and his hands tightened on your hips.

“I can’t get enough,” He groaned between strokes, voice wrecked and thick. “I could die here. Right between your thighs. Heaven and hell, all at once.”

You felt another orgasm building–fast, blinding–your breath catching with each wet circle of his tongue, each drag of his mouth over your clit, each filthy moan he spilled against your folds like worship.

And just before you shattered again, he looked up at you.

Eyes glowing gold. Lips soaked in you. His voice broke the last thread of restraint you had:

“Come for me again, goddess.”

And you did.

Violently. Beautifully. Every nerve ending setting alight with the crash.

You cried out his name–or maybe both their names–as the pleasure crashed through you, seizing your thighs around his head, dragging his mouth deeper as your body gave out.

But he didn’t stop.

He licked you through it, past it, deeper–drinking from the source like he’d promised, moaning like your taste rewrote his soul. When your body finally slumped against the mirror, still trembling, still slick and wide open for him, he rose slowly from his knees.

His lips were red. Glossed in your slick. His breath was heavy.

And when he leaned in again, cupping your face with one hand, you leaned into his touch like your neck had melted, jelly-soft and pliant beneath his palm. Your body still trembled in the aftermath of your orgasm–nerves frayed, thighs twitching, your breath a ghost of what it once was. His touch grounded you, burned you, and worshipped you all at the same time.

His gaze drank you in—lips wet, pupils blown wide and gold, voice dipped into something low and wicked as his mouth ghosted the edge of yours.

“What a great introduction, hm?” he murmured, the words dragging across your pulse like velvet-wrapped sin. “You’ve never really met me before… not like this.”

The tone in his voice was soft. Sweet, even. But beneath it was the weight of something divine. The kind of reverence that made your spine ache and your thighs twitch all over again. He kissed you before you could respond–slow and consuming, dragging the taste of yourself across your tongue as if to remind you what he’d just done.

You whimpered into it, and he smiled against your mouth, a low hum vibrating from his chest.

“But I’m not done yet,” He whispered into your lips–so soft, so sensual, it made you clench reflexively around nothing. His hand slid from your cheek to your throat again, not to grip–just to feel your pulse. To feel how hard it was racing beneath his palm.

“I’ve barely begun to show you what it’s like,” He added, nuzzling his mouth along your jaw, the edge of your ear. His voice was molten honey, golden and dripping into every breath. “To be worshipped by a god.”

His hand on your thigh curled inward again, slowly dragging up the bare, damp skin until his fingers slid between your folds once more. You gasped, your hips twitching against the marble counter as he stroked you lazily, like he was testing to see just how sensitive you were now. His lips ghosted over your jaw, kissing along your cheek until he reached your temple.

“You’re shaking again,” He murmured, tongue peeking out to taste the salt-sweet sweat clinging to your skin. “You gonna fall apart for me one last time, sunshine? Hm?”

You nodded without hesitation, breathless and dazed.

“Good,” He breathed, curling his fingers over your thigh again, dragging your legs open wider. You were still trembling when your hand reached down between your bodies, fumbling with the buckle of his belt.

He hissed quietly, the sound a shudder against your skin as you worked it open. The clink of the metal was deafening in the quiet of the washroom. You felt the tension in his body ripple the moment the leather slid free of the clasp—his hips pressing forward involuntarily as you popped the button of his jeans.

“W-We’re still in the club,” you whispered against his mouth, panting lightly, tasting yourself on his tongue. “People are gonna wonder where we are… I–we should deal with this and then go home. You can fuck me properly at the compound. I’ll let you take me apart in the shower. You’ll have me screaming your name all night, Bob, I promise–”

But he shook his head before you could finish.

One hand came up and cupped the side of your face, the other curled under your thigh again, holding you open with trembling reverence. He leaned in–kissed you hard, deep, so full of hunger it felt like he wanted to swallow your words down and burn them into ash.

“No,” He breathed against your lips. “No more waiting. We’ve waited long enough.” You felt the bulge in his jeans throb against your thigh as he growled, low and full of restrained power.

“I’m gonna fill you right here,” He whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth, then lower–your cheek, your throat, your collarbone–every word pressed into your skin like a brand. “I’m gonna fuck you so slow and so deep, you’ll be leaking with me when you walk back out into that club.” His fingers brushed your jaw again, holding you steady, trembling. “And you won’t be able to do a thing about it.” You gasped as he said it, your fingers slipping under the waistband of his boxers, finding the velvet heat of him–hard, pulsing, so heavy in your hand.

“I’ll make you wait to clean up,” He murmured, kissing beneath your ear now, voice dark and golden, “Let you walk around soaked in me until we get back to the compound. Then I’ll take you again in the shower. I’ll fuck you slow under the water with your thighs shaking around my hips, and I’ll do it just to remind you…”

He kissed you–hard. Deep. With teeth clacking together, and tongues battling, before pulling back.

“…Who you belong to now.”

The words sent a sharp, hot pulse through your spine.

You could barely breathe.

He nudged his jeans down just enough, and you helped–sliding the fabric down over his hips with frantic hands until he was free. The thick length of him brushed your thigh, hot and pulsing, and when you looked down, your breath caught.

The tip glistened in the light from the pre-cum dripping out of it, the head was flushed a blush red as if it was dying to be inside you. He looked unreal–godlike–and you were dizzy from the sight of him alone.

Your thighs spread wider, instinctive. Wanton.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” He whispered hoarsely, his hand gripping the base of himself, guiding the tip to your slick folds. “So many fucking nights. I thought I’d die with the taste of you on my tongue and never get to feel this.”

And then–slowly–he pressed in.

The stretch made your breath catch, your spine arch, your thighs tighten. He was careful. Controlled. Like the act of entering you was a ceremony. You whimpered, body pulsing around him as the thick head of his cock breached your entrance, and then more. Inch by glorious inch. So slow it hurt. So perfect it made your eyes sting.

“Dear l-lord…” Bob groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, kissing the sensitive flesh there. “You’re–God–you’re gripping me like you were made for this…” You cupped his jaw, pulled his face up to look at you as he sank deeper, until your bodies were fully joined. Chest to chest. Heart to heart.

And that’s when you saw it.

His eyes.

The constant battle.

Blue–bright, tender, full of reverent awe. But flickering beneath? Gold. Liquid fire. Sentry. The god…Aching for more. Needing to lose control again. And for a moment–just one–Bob blinked like he was trying to hold them both together for you.

“Bob…” You whispered, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks. “I see you.”

He choked on a breath. His hips rolled, slow and trembling, dragging himself out an inch before sliding back in–smooth, deep, deliberate. His eyes fluttered shut and then open again, barely able to hold your gaze. You cupped his face tighter, grounding him. His body shook with restraint.

“You’re both here,” You moaned, barely audible. “And I want all of it.”

Bob groaned into your mouth and kissed you–so slow this time. Like he was memorizing the shape of your lips with his own. Then his hips began to move again. Long, fluid strokes. Deep, sensual. Every grind sent heat coiling through your belly, and every time he slid inside you, the air in your lungs thinned.

Your legs wrapped around his hips.

Your hands held his face like prayer.

And his thrusts grew stronger.

Still aching.

But with that edge.

That divine, desperate edge.

The god was surfacing through every roll of his hips, every whispered groan, every broken syllable of your name. You could feel it in the way he filled you–perfectly. Over and over. Each time deeper. Each time just a little more heated. His body coiled like a storm, the breath behind his moans glowing brighter with every thrust.

“Mine,” He groaned, forehead pressed to yours, “You’re mine. Always been mine…”

You nodded, clinging to him. “Yours.”

His hands gripped your hips tighter.

And the light in the room began to flicker.

As if the whole club could feel what was happening in the dark.

In the holy quiet, where gods and mortals broke together.

His thrusts became less measured–still deep, still slow, but trembling at the edges with something close to ruin. The kind of surrender that came from months of restraint finally breaking. Each roll of his hips ground deeper into you, filling you so completely you swore you could feel him in your chest. The wet sounds of your bodies meeting echoed in the marble air, obscene and beautiful.

You clung to him, fingers dug into the muscles of his back, your thighs tightening around his hips with every thrust. Your foreheads pressed together. Noses brushed. Breaths mingled.

And then his mouth found yours again.

You gasped into it–sharp and high as a particularly deep thrust hit the spot inside you that made your toes curl–and Bob moaned into your mouth like it tore something sacred from him. His tongue slipped between your lips, slick and hungry, tasting you with a reverence that made your chest ache.

You kissed him back like you were trying to memorize every second.

Tongue against tongue. Teeth catching lips. Moans swallowed between gasps.

“Y-Y/N,” He groaned, barely audible. “You feel so good. So fucking good around me–so tight. You’re pulling me in like you want to keep me forever.”

“I do,” You whimpered, voice cracking with need. “I want to keep you. All of you.”

And that broke something in him.

His thrusts deepened–slower, but harder now. Grinding into you so completely you could barely breathe. The counter beneath you shook. The mirror behind your spine rattled faintly with each rhythm, like even the room couldn’t hold this kind of heat.

You could feel him trembling–every muscle drawn tight beneath your hands, his hips beginning to stutter with every roll forward. His breath came out in harsh bursts against your cheek, and when he buried his face in the crook of your neck again, he let out the rawest moan you’d ever heard from him.

“I’m close,” He gasped. “Y/N–I’m gonna come. I’m gonna fill you–fuck–I wanna know that you’re going to be dripping me all night.”

You cried out, tightening around him. Your own orgasm was on the brink again–high, searing, right there at the edge.

“Do it,” You begged, voice breaking. “Come inside me, Bob. Please–need to feel it. Need to feel you lose control.”

His hips faltered–just once–and he groaned through gritted teeth, his body coiled like it couldn’t decide whether to detonate or dissolve.

And then–he reached between you again, his thumb finding your clit one last time.

“Come with me,” he whispered, voice burning gold and low and full of promise. “Let go, sunshine. Let go with me.”

You clung to him. Kissed him.

And you shattered.

Your cry tore from your mouth and into his as he kissed you again–hot, open, gasping. Your orgasm hit hard and fast, convulsing through your body as your walls squeezed around him like you never wanted to let him go.

And that’s when he followed.

His hips stuttered, slammed in deep one last time, and then he was moaning into your mouth–loud, guttural, his tongue still tasting you as he spilled inside you. You felt every thick, hot pulse of him, the way his body shook against yours, how he trembled through it like the pleasure was too much, too full, too holy.

You stayed like that.

Locked together.

Mouths still joined, breath shallow, bodies twitching in the aftermath.

When he finally pulled back just an inch, his lips ghosted over yours. His forehead dropped against yours again, and you felt him shake–every exhale breaking against your cheeks.

”J-Jesus…I-I think I was blacking out during that.” Bob laughed softly–still breathless, still inside you, his face pressed into the crook of your neck like it was the only place he knew how to breathe. You could feel him twitch inside you, still hard, still so achingly present even in the aftermath of all that heat. His breath was warm and sticky against your throat.

You laughed, too–just a little–low and shaken but real.

“I couldn’t tell who was in control,” you murmured, dragging your fingers gently through the sweaty strands at the back of his neck. “Hopefully he’s not mad I called him Bob.”

Bob pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, lips curling in a crooked grin that barely held together at the corners. He kissed you once–soft, quick, like a punctuation mark–before resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m sure h-he doesn’t care,” He said, voice hoarse and honey-warm, “He’s definitely shut his mouth now…H-He’s been talking my ear off all night. Especially when you were with that guy.”

You smirked, brushing your thumb along the curve of his cheek. “Sentry… The god of jealousy.”

Bob hummed a low, amused sound in his throat. “We were both jealous. He just…H-Has a really bad w-way of handling it.”

Then he turned slightly–still inside you, and you gasped at the movement—his body shifting as he reached out and slapped the silver button on the paper towel dispenser with the side of his palm. The mechanical whir filled the room in a way that felt both hilarious and wildly surreal.

“What are you doing?” You asked, brows furrowed in amused disbelief. Bob grinned, pressing a kiss to your neck, then leaned forward again to turn the faucet on with one hand.

“Making sure we don’t stain that pretty little dress,” He murmured, grabbing the paper towel and wetting it under the warm water. “It’s p-probably already ruined…But we shouldn’t make it worse, and w-we should at least do some damage control on it…I’ll pay for the d-dry cleaning.”

You laughed–really laughed this time–and he smiled into your skin like it was the best sound he’d ever heard. Bob gently wrung out the warm paper towel over the sink, his body still braced between your thighs, chest rising and falling with labored breaths. The faucet murmured behind him as he turned it off, and the only other sound was the distant thud of club music vibrating faintly through the floorboards beneath your heels.

Then he leaned back slightly, his hands moving to rest lightly on your hips as he looked down between your bodies to assess the aftermath.

He sucked in a quiet breath, eyes narrowing slightly. “Huh.”

You blinked at him, trying not to laugh. “What?”

Bob tilted his head, considering. “It’s not t-too bad,” He said, voice still rough and fond, “But I might have to ask you to c-clench a bit when I pull out–just so I can press this t-there and stop the cum from dripping out before you get your underwear on.”

Your brows lifted. “Sounds like a plan…Speaking of my underwear though…Where are they?”

Bob glanced around like he was replaying the last thirty minutes in his head, then leaned over your shoulder and reached for something just behind the soap dispenser.

“T-Thought they got lost,” He muttered with sheepish relief as he picked up the damp, balled-up fabric, still slightly warm from your skin. “Thank goodness t-that’s not the case… Would’ve been pretty bad if it w-was.”

You bit back a grin, your voice teasing. “Would’ve had to walk back out to the club bare underneath this dress, huh?”

Bob groaned softly, burying his face in your neck for a beat. “Don’t t-tempt me.” Then he pulled back again, lips brushing your cheek as he met your eyes. “Ready?”

You nodded once, steady, and clenched instinctively around him–tight, holding him for one last second. Bob hissed quietly at the sensation, groaned, and then slowly, gently pulled out.

The loss of him made you gasp–a subtle ache, a sudden emptiness–but he was already moving, already bringing the warm, damp towel between your thighs with a kind of reverent tenderness that made your breath hitch. His touch wasn’t clinical or rushed. It was slow. Careful. Like he was scared he’d hurt you if he moved too fast.

You watched him.

Watched the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his lower lip was caught between his teeth as he wiped you clean with the warm wet paper towel. It brushed between your folds with gentle pressure, catching his release as it began to spill out of you. He dabbed and swept delicately, making sure not to press too hard, his other hand holding your hip, grounding both you and him to the moment.

And the whole time, he was glancing up at you, watching your face–checking, silently, for any sign of discomfort.

Your chest swelled.

The intensity of it hit you like a fourth climax, softer this time–emotional instead of physical. This was Bob. Always Bob. The way he cared, the way he noticed, the way he never made you feel like you were too much.

You reached up, both hands rising to cradle his jaw as he finished, and his gaze flicked up to you just in time for your mouth to catch his.

You kissed him slowly–no hunger, no urgency. Just tenderness. Just that aching, quiet thing that had been living in both of you for months.

When you pulled back, your voice was hushed, but it carried all the weight of truth behind it.

“So…” You whispered, brushing your thumb over the very very light stubble along his jaw, “I guess we’re throwing that whole ‘no dating for the team’ thing out the window, huh?” Bob’s lips curled into the softest smile, something crooked and reverent and completely undone.

“S-Seems like it,” He murmured.

And then he kissed you again–gold-lit, warm, and entirely his.

[shy-writer-999]

When they're drunk: Monster Trio, Ace + Law (sfw, fluff)

Summary: How do they act when they're drunk? What's their favorite drink? Do they get lovey-dovey? SFW fluff. CW: Curse words/profanity. "Princess" used in Sanji and Ace's parts. Mentions of kissing/making out, suggestive themes but nothing outright explicit (hence, sfw). A singular, mild nod to vomiting in Sanji's section.

Luffy: rowdy and hungry

He’s pretty predictable; he gets rowdy, eats a lot, and has horrible hangovers (one of the main reasons he abstains from drinking almost entirely).

Rarely drinks. One of the reasons in his mind for not over-indulging is that if he gets too drunk he won’t be able to remember all the meat he ate.

Literally no impulse control. So when he does drink, he racks up a HUGE tab (mostly bar food) and one of the crew has to pick up his bill because he forgets to close it out. You make sure to tip extra because it’s his tab.

Eats even more than usual because (obviously) eating good food while you’re drunk makes it taste even better. Chokes on his food more, too. It's kind of a pain in the ass.

Luffy is a MENACE about the food. He’ll gomu gomu his arm to the other side of the bar to swoop up some unsuspecting random’s food and he’ll shove it in his gullet in the blink of an eye. No evidence or crumbs. A monster.

He gets dehydrated because he doesn’t drink water when he’s drunk, and his salt intake is crazy, so he literally has to be reminded to do so. At some point you just start pushing a glass of water into his hands and rolling your eyes because you know he’s going to be the biggest complainer the next morning.

Luffy and Usopp egg each other on, it’s bad because sometimes they have drinking contests (or eating contests). They get scrappy sometimes and you have to tell them off because they cause a scene.

He won’t shut up about being king of the pirates. No one minds but, goddamn, how many times can one person say that in a night?

He’s endearingly sweet when he’s had too much to drink. He can’t stop staring at you when his face isn’t buried in a plate of food.

His eyes are glued to your face.

“Luffy, what? Why are you staring at me?”

“You just look so pretty.”

He even wants to hold your hand when you walk back to the ship at the end of the night. The whole crew thinks you make a cute couple, and they love how happy you make each other.

When you crawl into bed at the end of the night, he clings onto you like a sloth and then starts snoring in your ear. He wraps himself around you and conks out almost immediately.

Sure enough, the next morning he’s complaining so much it would be insufferable if you didn’t love him to pieces. He whines and you take care of him.

Luffy recovers from his monster hangover at a superhuman speed, which makes the whining not so bad—it’ll be less than an hour of complaining and whining and pouting, but when you’ve made him drink enough water and brought him enough food, he is as good as new in mere minutes. It’s uncanny.

Favorite drink?: Anything he can get his hands on, but he likes beer best (more volume). Will never do shots.

Zoro: over-indulges like clockwork

When he's drunk he generally does things he shouldn’t. Drinks too much and flirts too much. Eats way too much and runs his mouth too much, too.

He flirts with anyone he wants to, which is usually VERY out of character, but he doesn’t care at all when he’s drunk. He’ll flirt with you, with Sanji’s partner, with Sanji (?), the bartender, anyone and everyone he feels like.

It’s when he’s tipsy that the flirting starts. He’s deviously subtle about it at first. Zoro jokes and tease, but after coaxing so much laughter out of you one too many times, you start to wonder if he’s flirting with you (he is).

He gets more blunt as the night goes on. The drunker he is the bolder he is. He manages to elicit more crimson, flushed faces in the bar than anyone on the crew, and this can be attributed to the fact that he’s strikingly handsome and he almost never says anything suggestive. But the liquor brings out his cheeky smiles. And it’s hard to look away from those muscles or flashing eyes.

Drinks wayyyy too much but has a super high tolerance, so he doesn’t usually act very drunk. He can drink the whole crew (and usually whole bar) under the table.

Always down for a drinking game and loves to bet on it because he knows he’ll win. He pouts when no one wants to participate because everyone can only lose to him so many times before they start to refuse for good.

Generally just down for gambling in general, but when he’s drunk he goes balls to the wall with it. And he actually doesn’t lose very much. Almost makes enough to pay off his tab.

While he doesn’t act very drunk, if you know him well enough you can tell when he’s too far gone. His eyes linger, he smiles harder, his glass empties faster, and he turns his body towards yours more with each passing second. His knee or thigh rests against yours and you’re so intoxicated with his presence that it’s hard to pay attention to his words.

Zoro orders more than he knows he should, and more than he knows he can pay for. Somehow it always works out—one of the crew members bails him out (usually Nami, and when she does, she adds 300% interest, but Zoro is too drunk to care).

Surprisingly polite to waitstaff, maybe a little curt at times.

It’s no secret that he just loves a good glass of sake, beer, wine, anything and everything with alcohol. One of his favorite things is to just sit back, relax, and drink. It would concern you if you didn’t know how strict his discipline and self-control are.

He gets extra handsy when he’s drunk (and possessive). He never crosses lines with you, but since you started seeing each other in an intimate capacity, he can’t take his hands off of you, especially when he’s drunk. Doesn’t care if he’s in public, doesn’t care if people are watching. The rest of the crew is shocked when they first witness him getting a rough handful of your ass.

Zoro pulls out pet names, which you’d assume is out of character. Somehow the liquor makes him sweet. “C’mere gorgeous.”

But it also makes him spicier. “God, you’re so fucking hot.”

Loves sloppy make out sessions after he's had a few drinks. Also is prone to pulling you away somewhere and... well, you know. The man's a dog.

Zoro’s voice gets lower and huskier when he’s too far gone. It makes you feel some sort of way. And your bashfulness does not escape him.

But when he’s wayyyy drunk, he just falls asleep. Like he’ll pass out at the bar. He makes it back to the ship by himself usually, but you’ve had to shake the sleepy swordsman awake a couple of times.

“Zoro, get up. We’re going back to the ship.”

You have no idea how he can sleep in such a loud bar, and the bartender has been glaring at him for a good 20 minutes at this point.

“Wha-?” He raises his head and blinks sleep out of his eyes while he instinctively reaches for his (empty) pint. “Oh hey, pretty.” He mumbles and your heart does a flip for the 100th time that night.

Zoro gets MONSTER, BRUTAL hangovers. Next level. He doesn’t complain, per say, but he’ll walk around squinting, shielding his eyes from light, wincing, muttering curse words, and hissing in air through his teeth the whole time. Forces himself to train through the hangovers and gets grumpy about it.

Favorite drink: sake. Really nice sake.

Sanji: as doting as ever

Ohhh Sanji. He’s adorable when he’s drunk.

His whole face gets red and his hair gets a bit ruffled. He blushes more than usual and you can practically see his eyes turn into hearts when he looks at you.

Sanji drunk flirts wayyy more audaciously than Zoro, and when he’s drunk he actually spits mad game.

He’s incapable of doing so when he’s sober, but when he’s drunk he literally attracts a crowd of women. But his eyes are only for you.

If the bar has music and people are dancing, Sanji begs you to dance with him. He loves to twirl you around, feel your hand in his, and let loose. And he’s surprisingly good at it.

Orders bar food even though he’s continually unimpressed by it.

He somehow manages to weasel his way into the kitchen every time he sets foot in a bar. He wants to see what’s going on in there—when’s the last time they cleaned the stove? Are the knives sharp? What’s the mise en place setup? What’s their speciality? Why are they using cabernet sauvignon to cook, instead of a pinot noir that would obviously be the better choice? God forbid they use frozen french fries.

Inevitably, he ends up cooking something and either getting along with or fighting with the cooks.

Sometimes he even ends up behind the bar. He isn’t just a spectacular chef, he’s also good at making drinks. Obviously his are better than the bartender’s.

Smokes so many cigs when he’s drunk (because nothing trumps a drunk cigarette) >_>

When he isn’t fucking around in the kitchen or slinging cocktails, Sanji waits on you hand and foot. He gets you literally anything you desire when you’re at the bar, and when you’re back home he asks you (and everyone else) what food you’d like.

“Princess, would you like another cocktail?” and “Have you been drinking enough water, sweetheart?”

If a creepy guy at the bar so much as looks at you, let alone puts an unwanted hand on your arm or small of your back, Sanji flips his shit. “Hey asshole, watch it. Do that again and I’ll kick your ass.”

This goes without saying, but Sanji loves to cook when he’s drunk and somehow his food is even better than usual—and that isn’t because you’re drunk, too. It’s just that good.

“What would you like me to make you, my love?”

If you don’t know what particular dish you’re in the mood for, he makes you a feast comprised of your favorite foods.

Even if you request something elaborate, he has no problems with it. Cooking is his love language, and he puts extra love into your food.

“God, you’re so beautiful. I can’t take my eyes off of you.” He praises you beyond belief, even when he’s at the stovetop. “You’re perfect, my angel.”

Sanji smothers you in kisses and wants to entwine his fingers with yours. He’s a huge hand holder and cuddler.

If you get way too drunk, he carries you to bed, helps you into some comfy clothes and makes sure you’re sleeping on your side. He’ll pet your hair and watch over you carefully. He’d never let you get to the point of throwing up, but just in case you do, he brings you the necessary supplies.

He sets out everything he thinks you could possibly want in case you wake up before him, and when he is awake, he brings you whatever you ask for. He’s attentive, never overbearing, thoughtful, and darling.

“You somehow get more beautiful every day,” he tells you first thing in the morning when you feel like shit from your hangover and (objectively) look a damn mess. “So perfect, like always.”

Favorite drink(s): bougie and carefully curated glass of pinot gris. Even better if it comes with complementary accoutrements. Also enjoys a negroni.

Ace: charming and protective

When Ace is drunk, he’s smooth, flirty, charming, polite, and a bit forward. But he gets just as rowdy as Luffy. God forbid they’re at the same bar.

He loves it when a bar has pool. He’s crazy good at it and begs everyone to play.

When the situation calls for it, he either breaks up bar fights or runs his mouth so much that he starts them. He’s sassy in general but also talks big game (that he can back up). Especially if someone starts slandering or talking out of their ass about someone he knows.

Somehow manages to gain control over the music every bar he walks into. And he has good playlists too. He hates it if the vibe is off so he takes it upon himself to remedy or prevent that.

Also a big fan of drinking games.

Weirdly excited if there is any opportunity to grill meat. Thinks it’s fun to fuck around with his powers and show off (but it doesn’t get too cringey or anything).

Won’t smoke any drunk cigs (like Sanji) but will accompany people outside and give them a light if they need one (he’s just so thoughtful!!!)

He’s wildly protective over you.

Makes you flustered nonstop and pays for everything. Making you flustered is like a sport to him.

And while he’s obsessed with you, he doesn’t cling to you at the bar or demand your attention every second. He wants you to have fun with your friends, but he also wants you to be safe, so he keeps a watchful eye.

Sings random bar pirate songs with his friends and crew and gets super goofy.

Raucous laughter. Spit-take level

When his cheeks are ruddy and his eyes are glazed over he looks painfully good. The flush makes his freckles pop and when he scrunches his nose up to laugh they’re emphasized even more. He looks ridiculously good. Like, squeeze your thighs together good.

Ace TEARS UP bar food when he’s drunk. He’s a beast for it. Can put away plates of fries, wings, pizza, pretzels, you name it. The man is a machine.

Loves to put a hand on your thigh when you’re sitting next to him. He does this sober but when he’s drunk it’s feels so much more intense.

Pulls out the sweetest pet names.

“How’s it going, sugar?”

“You drinking enough water, pumpkin?”

Among others: buttercup, darling, angel, princess, doll, etc.

His polite tendencies are multiplied by 1000 any time he gets a drop of alcohol in him.

Gets into sports (or strength) debates at bars.

Has a penchant for accidentally leaving stuff at bars, e.g. wallet. Gets embarrassed about it afterwards.

Ace’s body gets HOT when he’s drunk—his ability (or attention) to control his temperature slips a bit and he can sometimes forget to regulate himself (regarding his devil fruit). And while he’s physically hot, he doesn’t get sweaty or anything. And it’s nice to hold his hand when it’s warm, too. Super comforting.

He’s all hands (and lips) when he’s drunk, and when you let him/when neither of you are too wasted, but if you’re really drunk and try to initiate anything with him, he IMMEDIATELY puts a stop to it. He’s a gentleman (not implying that anyone mentioned here would do the opposite of this, just stressing it for Ace because I think he’d put a lot of intention and thought into this, along with Sanji).

He makes sure you don’t drink too much (and tries to do the same) because he hates seeing you miserable with a hangover. But if you do over-indulge, he’s there to bring you anything you need—ibuprophen, water, Pedialyte, more blankets, different clothes, food, literally anything you could think of.

When you’re out of bed the morning after, he literally chews people out for speaking too loudly around you when he knows you have a headache. He's attentive and gets grumpy (not towards you, of course) whenever you're feeling bad.

Favorite drink: whiskey or rum and coke. Beer guy, too, so might indulge in the occasional IPA and pretend like it tastes good.

Law: awkward, silly, and endearing

Frequently refuses to drink because he hates having his senses dulled in the slightest. But on rare occasions when he does drink, the whole crew has a blast.

His standoffish and cold disposition melts away when he has a few drinks in him.

The first time you witness his coldness melting away, you’re sitting around a table with the crew at a pub. He’s a couple drinks in, mean mugging like usual, deadpan and unamused. But someone says something ridiculously funny and he breaks into roaring laughter. You weren’t expecting that but everyone else is grinning because they love to see their captain happy.

When Law gets past a certain point he lets loose. It’s fun to see him mess around with the crew. He’ll laugh so hard he doubles over.

He's so sweet and tender inside. And that makes more of a prominent impression when he lets his guard down just a tad.

When he’s drunk he thinks Bepo is even cuter and goes a little overboard about it to the point where Bepo side eyes him >_> he thinks it’s weird to have his captain hang all over him sometimes. But Bepo is just so fluffy and cute!

When Law is intoxicated and you’re around, his face is covered in big, goofy, sweet smiles. Flashing eyes and lingering touches. He gets rosy cheeks and his hair gets messed up. Makes him look even better.

But he also has the tendency to make blisteringly intense eye contact. So strong and scathing that it makes you squirm in awkwardness if you aren’t used to it. He can’t help it though, he’s locked-in on how beautiful you are.

Surprisingly a fan of drinking games (no gambling though), but what he likes best is if a bar has old arcade games (air hockey and pool will suffice, if not). He could play them for hours and gets super excited about them. He knows all the facts and history behind each arcade game and will rant about it to anyone in earshot.

His ears perk up if he hears some nerdy shit. Did someone mention a comic he read when he was five? A commemorative coin that he has been on the hunt for? He’ll get to the bottom of it.

If he hears a bad take on his interests^^ he’ll sit down for a heated debate and he always wins.

Surprisingly cute when he’s wasted because he slurs the “-ya”

Watches the crew's water intake like a hawk. Reminds everyone to drink water and makes sure everyone has a glass of it at all times.

Will make sure the crew has enough bar food to eat, family-style.

Picks up the crew's huge tab without being fussy about it. Might pretend to be grumpy about it. But he does it lovingly because he cherishes his crew so much and it's a nice way to showcase that without having to say it out loud.

If you’re one on one, Law can be persuaded to talk about deep and personal things, or rather, he’s more comfortable speaking about them when he has some liquid courage in his veins.

The first time he got too drunk and you took care of him was before you started seeing each other. You practically had to carry him back to the Polar Tang. He almost left his hat at the bar, too.

Law was being uncharacteristically sweet to you all night. When you got back to his cabin, you helped him get into bed and brought him water. He (drunkenly) thanked you profusely and called you beautiful (you didn’t expect that).

The next morning he blushed bright red and was painfully awkward when he said thank you. He had a massive hangover and tried to hide it but you could tell every time he winced.

After that, Law figured out he could just use his devil fruit powers to remove the last traces of alcohol from his (or someone else's) systems, so it's safe to say that the Polar Tang doesn't experience hangovers much.

Favorite drink: Espresso martini.

tysm for reading ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ

i'm back from my mini-hiatus! but i can't say i'll be posting regularly (or at all? idk) until mid december. (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ it's final papers and app season so i'm going to be getting it from all sides 😭 but holy shit i can't wait to go absolutely crazy when i'm free from those obligations!

see my masterlist if you'd like more~

[astonmartinii]

put it all on red (bull) | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem russell reader

her brother won the race? does she know? does she care?

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

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tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: VIVA LAS VEGAS

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user3: this is fucking hilarious

user4: her whole ass brother won the actual race and there's not a peep of him on the post

user5: i mean her boyfriend did win the championship...

yourusername: exactlyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy i mean my instagram is for pretty girls only

user6: do not erase george's beauty

yourusername: nothing to erase girlypop - FUGLY!

user7: the way the guys are in the media pen and can't see that y/n is coming for their necks in instagram comments

user8: i fear she's already started drinking...

user9: in the back of the sky broadcast she hands max a drink and i'm starting to suspect that it was not water or red bull

user10: LMAO HELMUT TOOK A SIP AND LIKE NEARLY FELL OVER

yourusername: i've never claimed to be good at mixing drinks

maxverstappen1: WHERE WAS THE TONIC ???

yourusername: i don't believe in tonic 💔

maxverstappen1: YOU GAVE ME STRAIGHT GIN?

yourusername: straight 🤣

maxverstappen1: Y/N THAT'S ATTEMPTED MURDER ON HELMUT ???

yourusername: free me i did nothing wrong !!!

user11: these people kill me

user12: sign of a healthy relationship is making gay allegations about each other

yourusername: ALLEGATIONS ???

yourusername: george is lucky that he was the first russell carmen met ...

georgerussell63: RIGHT, I HAVE HAD ENOUGH

georgerussell63: thank you for the congratulations but STOP flirting with MY girlfriend

yourusername: congratulations??? for what?

georgerussell63: WINNING THE RACE?

yourusername: boring!

georgerussell63: you are so lucky we're family because you are a few cards short of a deck

yourusername: CARDS? that reminds me ... time to gamble!

maxverstappen1

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maxverstappen1: winning without the fastest car isn't for everyone

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user13: this caption has y/n russell written all over it

yukitsunoda0511: i sat here and watched them giggle to themselves for a good five minutes while posting this

user14: tell max to post more pictures like the second one

yukitsunoda0511: they are not safe for innocent eyes and they are not taken with a locked door :/

user15: why are you there ???

yukitsunoda0511: they're very generous when they're drunk !

user16: so real

yukitsunoda0511: it's also not just me :(

user17: just how many people are using the bar tab?

liamlawson30: me!

oscarpiastri: me!

charles_leclerc: me!

landonorris: me!

pierregasly: me!

alexalbon: me!

yourusername: broke bitches

carlossainz55: you do not have a job?

yourusername: gambling and being pretty is more of a job that what you will have next season 🤨

carlossainz55: has anyone ever told you you're a really mean drunk

yourusername: just george about a billion times, you get used to it (we just don't invite you out)

user18: she is just dragging anyone now

user19: hold on that is her boyfriend's work boyfriend's enemy

user20: girl is 90% of lestappen twitter's source and you think she's not gonna have a problem with sainz???

yourusername: you're so sexy i actually can't even function

maxverstappen1: gotta put the trophy in trophy husband somehow

yourusername: jokes aside i am super duper proud of you, this year has been insane and you've proven that you are the bestest eva

maxverstappen1: couldn't have done it without my fave cheerleader

yourusername: i'll wear the uniform and everything ....

schecoperez: STOP

georgerussell63: still no congratulations? i know you won the title or whatever but we're going to be brothers soon SHOW SOME RESPECT

yourusername: literally suck his dick

yourusername: wait no

yourusername: suck my dick

yourusername: WAIT NO

yourusername: choke ❤️

georgerussell63: i have no words at this point

maxverstappen1: so romantic hehehehe

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yourusername: put it all on on red (bull)

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user22: ma'am why is there a cat?

user23: i think we already know the answer

user24: oh i know the answer i just wanna know the batshit explanation

georgerussell63: exsqueeze me ???

yourusername: don't speak like that about your nephew ??

georgerussell63: tell me you're not keeping it??

maxverstappen1: IT? HE JUST LEAPFROGGED YOU IN OUR WILL

georgerussell63: 1. you have a joint will ??? 2. why am i on it ??? 3. what is a cat doing with a monaco penthouse ???

maxverstappen1: i thought you could use the money ? i know toto ain't paying you what he promised me

yourusername: george your weird sugar daddy is more broke than you think sorry xx

georgerussell63: once again, what is stopping me taking the monaco house from a literal cat ?

yourusername: caesar will be very aware of his rights string bean - just because you talk in an uppity accent doesn't mean you actually know anything

georgerussell63: i cannot tell who corrupted who but i am sick of being your victim :(

user25: yes as fun as watching them dog george is i do want to know caesar's origin story

user26: i have a very bad feeling i know where he got his name

alexalbon: HE'S NOT NAMED AFTER THE CASINO IS HE?

yourusername: ding ding ding we have a winner, always knew you were the smarter half of galex

maxverstappen1: your gambling is getting out of hand

yourusername: did i or did i not win us a cat ?

maxverstappen1: AND £250,000 ???

yourusername: didn't want to promote gambling too much

yourusername: KIDS DO NOT GAMBLE IT IS DUMB

yourusername: look at me i literally have a child now ???

user27: we have lost the original plot of the movie

user28: you must be new, we stopped trying to make sense of these two years ago

lewishamilton: i can assure you it does not get any easier when you know them personally

yourusername: we aim to be sexy and mysterious

lewishamilton: that's strange because you guys dance like little boys and overshare at any given opportunity

maxverstappen1: guilty !

georgerussell63

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georgerussell63: i won the las vegas grand prix and all i got was this lousy cat

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user29: i am sensing a y/n and max meltdown incoming

user30: maybe they're too hungover to argue?

yourusername: NEVER

maxverstappen1: LOUSY CAT? FIRST OF ALL HE'S NOT YOURS SO KEEP HIS NAME OUT OF YOUR MOUTH AND ALSO I WILL KILL YOU WITH A GUN

georgerussell63: excuse me?

yourusername: do NOT threaten my boyfriend !!!!!!!!

georgerussell63: do you have selective sight or something?

yourusername: no i just like him more than i like you

georgerussell63: you only met him because of me?

maxverstappen1: i have faith we would've found each other regardless we have a SOUL TIE

yourusername: EXACTLY

georgerussell63: i give up.

yourusername: this is exactly why you don't have a championship ... no drive (pun intended)

georgerussell63: NOW THAT'S IT

maxverstappen1: are you threatening my girlfriend?

georgerussell63: OMG LEAVE ME ALONE

user31: their commitment to never letting george have a day of peace is really quite charming

user32: they're going to give him grey hairs before he even turns 27

alexalbon: i gotta say georgie, i'm not with you on this one - caesar is THE dude

georgerussell63: are all my eggs falling out of the basket at once?

maxverstappen1: that's called karma for calling caesar 'it' and a lousy cat

georgerussell63: i can't lie i am missing your honeymoon phase you guys were a lot nicer

yourusername: we never left the honeymoon phase we just like annoying all of you

maxverstappen1: makes you people leave us alone :3

landonorris: you don't have to be mean to do that

yourusername: YOU JUST GOT OFF OF THIN ICE NORRIS WATCH YOUR STEP

user33: they can make excuses all these want but they just like annoying everyone else

user34: i mean based on their vegas shenanigans i think they would be super fun to be around

yourusername: oscar literally came to stay while he 'looked for a flat' in monaco and hasn't left... it's been three months. face it we're a HOOT

oscarpiastri: they are fun! the secret is to not be annoying sorry george!

maxverstappen1: they grow up so fast :')

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 984,036 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: took a gamble when i went for the lanky posh dude's sister and i can now say it was definitely worth it

view all comments

user37: bro says snug as a bug in a rug once and now he's labelled as posh HE'S FROM NORFOLK

user38: it's also the way that y/n never gets the posh allegations

georgerussell63: it's because she's scruffy as fuck x

maxverstappen1: literally outside your house with a knife, keep talking

georgerussell63: i'm a grown man, max, you don't scare me

maxverstappen1: so i'm free to do a little gardening while you hide inside?

georgerussell63: you wouldn't...

yourusername: GO FOR THE PEONIES MAX

georgerussell63: NOT THE PEONIES I BEG HAVE MERCY

user39: so i'm supposed to read all of this shit and take them seriously when they get in the car

user40: it's part of the charm i think

user41: it's all fun and games until you remember they are full grown adults who can vote who are arguing over flowers

yourusername: i'd go through the strenuous task of growing up with george thousands more times just to be with you

maxverstappen1: i've been in love with you since i was 14, there has never been anyone else for me and there will never be anyone else for me

yourusername: ugh why didn't we just get married in vegas ?

maxverstappen1: because even though i did just harm his flowers, i do want to marry you in front of our families

yourusername: i guess you're right

georgerussell63: you know what? based on how you usually talk to me... i'm touched

yourusername: if i'm feeling generous i'll even let you do the seating chart

georgerussell63: I LOVE YOU BEST SISTER EVER

user42: only a declaration of love between max and y/n could end with george proclaiming his love for charts

user43: how does one procure an invite to this wedding ...

yourusername: be cunty

yourusername: @zakbrownceo YOU'RE BARRED

yourusername

liked by landonorris, alexalbon and 409,300 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: i'm the sibling who can't drive and yet i'm the one with four championship trophies in their house... george, step your pussy up x

view all comments

user44: omg queen who can't drive, she's such representation

yourusername: george says i'm so mean all the time but really i'm generous, i clearly gave him all the driving genes

user45: have you even tried driving?

yourusername: i went on max's sim once and got motion sickness and i'm also with the best driver in the world and siblings with an okay one - i'm surviving

alexalbon: he's already texted me about your language on this post

yourusername: just because he's a boomer in a string bean's body does not mean i must censor myself - he should know what stepping his pussy up means by now

georgerussell63: i will not be stepping on any pussy, i respect both felines and women

maxverstappen1: you called caesar 'it' so PLEASE

georgerussell63: i respect women?

maxverstappen1: you called y/n scruffy?

georgerussell63: that's y/n it doesn't count

maxverstappen1: that's not very feminist of you george. i am disappointed

yourusername: i agree, i really think the GDPA should reconsider the type of person they're letting run it

georgerussell63: huh?

yourusername: not once have i been invited to a grid meal ....

georgerussell63: well you're not on the grid that's why

yourusername: FEMALE EXCLUSION

maxverstappen1: you know we have attachment issues, you're so heartless george

georgerussell63: what is going on ???

yourusername: you CLEARLY don't care about me

maxverstappen1: and you CLEARLY don't care about the wellbeing of the grid

georgerussell63: I'M SORRY???

user46: george is unbelievably easy to rattle

user47: it must be so fun

yourusername: oh believe me, we have way too much fun

maxverstappen1: we once convinced him that it was a social faux pas to shake hands in japan lol

georgerussell63: IS THAT WHY MERCEDES WERE TOLD THAT EVERYONE THOUGHT I WAS REALLY RUDE ???

yourusername: LMAOOOOOOOO

maxverstappen1: so so so easy bro

user48: i guess a couple that plays mind tricks together, stay together?

yourusername: 4eva

maxverstappen1: til death do us part

yourusername: quite literally you're not leaving me alone with GEORGE

georgerussell63: you know what: DIE

yourusername: GASP

maxverstappen1: @fia get his ass

fin.

note: HAPPY MAX VERSTAPPEN CHAMPIONSHIP DAY TO ALL WHO CELEBRATE. IE. ME LOL

[very-merry-birthday]

Flirt

Summary: Older!Dean doesn't look at you the way you want him to, but you still like to flirt with him. What happens when you finally push him too far.

Warnings: Smut, Age Gap, Older!Dean x Younger!Reader (but it's sweet). Reader has tattoos??

~~~

You enjoyed flirting with the Winchesters.

Sam understood your game quickly. Maybe it was because he was younger than his brother, he realized almost immediately that your age plus your looks put older guys on edge.

Whenever you'd meet up on the road, a hunt putting you in the same town, he'd watch as you'd flirt with the bartender, the motel owner, the witness. You'd look back at him, a knowing smile on his face as he watched you get exactly what you wanted.

Everything but Dean. The one man who Sam knew you wanted more than anyone. Dean handled you with kid gloves, constantly on edge around you, making sure you were safe with your perceived vulnerabilities. The rest of the year you were a badass hunter who could take anything on by yourself, but the second Dean was around he couldn't see you as anything but a little kid, one who should be as far from a hunt as possible.

Sam understood your flirting, understood that with others it was just a means to an end, with him it was a joke, and with Dean... well he knew with Dean it couldn't be more genuine. But you just wished Dean could see that, or could even realize you were flirting in the first place.

The moment you'd shown up to the motel, a six pack under your arm, a grin on your face, you knew this occasion would be a lost cause. You'd gotten a black eye one week earlier, a ragaru with a crowbar leaving you with a purple bruise all the way to your temple, and while it was significantly less swollen now, it was still obvious. The second Dean had caught sight of you'd he'd sighed, starting on a lecture about keeping safe while you'd looked to Sam with desperate eyes, seeking an escape.

"Did ya kill it? The ragaru?" Sam cut his brother off.

"Easy." You replied with a wink.

"That's our girl!" Sam pulled you in to a hug, you hadn't seen each other for months and he'd missed your jokes.

You handed him a bottle, along with your bottle opener, and he clicked it open easily before handing the opener back. You outstretched another bottle to Dean who looked down at you with a frosty expression, "Are you even old enough to drink?"

"How old do you think I am exactly?" You pouted out your bottom lip, looking up at him with big eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Dean took the bottle and turned away to open it himself.

You looked over at Sam with a worth a try expression. He shook his head at you, a smile forming across his face at your halfhearted efforts.

"I was in the area, Sam texted, I came running."

"As you always do." Sam laughed.

"Only for you, honey." You sat down on one of the beds, kicking off your shoes in one movement as you tapped the space next to you for Sam to join. He did, taking a seat as you looked back at Dean, a firm expression on his face.

He took a sip from the bottle before speaking again, "So what's your plan? You got somewhere to stay?"

"Nah, Sam's gonna let me share his bed, aren't ya Sammy?"

Sam looked over at you with a grin.

"No chance-" Dean spoke before his brother was able to.

"Oh, you want me to yourself?" You bit the end of you finger, a fiery expression in your eyes.

"I'll get you a room." He placed the bottle down on the side table and left without another word.

You sighed, exasperated, laying down on the bed and staring up at the damp ceiling.

Sam laughed at the sight, "You shouldn't tease him like that."

"I'm not teasing! If he asked, I'd share a bed with him any day- or any night-"

"I'm gonna stop you there- That's my brother you're talking about."

You looked up at him, your façade gone, "Well then, how've you been?"

"Dean's been driving me crazy- he's been driving himself crazy! You need to move into the bunker already! I know I ask every time but I don't think either of us will cope by ourselves for much longer."

"What, so he can keep me locked away never to hunt again? No chance! He barely wanted me on this one did you see his face?"

"He only does it because he cares about you-"

"-He does it because he thinks I'm a kid." You sighed again, sitting back up and taking a swig of Sam's beer. He let you without a second thought.

"And you? How have you been? Keeping out of trouble I hope?"

"God you sound like a dad!" You rolled your eyes, but watched as a pained wince flashed over his face, "Sorry. I've been good, and yes, keeping out of trouble, apart from this!" You pointed back to your black eye.

"It hurting still?" He squinted slightly to get a better look at it.

"Nothing I haven't dealt with before." You touched it lightly, the swelling gone, just a bruised mark left. You looked back at him, remembering your news, "Hey! I almost forgot, I got a new tattoo!"

Sam grinned. Your tattoos weren't obvious, most of them hidden away under layers of clothes, but you'd shown him a few on a drunk night some months ago, and you'd always appreciated how much interest he'd taken in them. Not because they were hot, or because they were in scandalous places, but just because he was genuinely interested.

"Show me then!" He laughed.

You hopped up, hiking up the back of your shirt and tugging your jeans down only slightly to reveal the small of your back, looking back at him over your shoulder to catch his expression.

"Looks sick," he looked between your face and the tattoo, "but I don't get having a tattoo you can't see yourself?"

You let go of your shirt and turned back to him, "Thought I'd give Dean something to look at when he finally decides to bend me over and-"

"Stop right there!" Both of you stared at each other for a moment before breaking out in laughter. The door opened again and Dean stepped in holding a key between his fingers. You both burst out laughing again as you looked over at him.

He looked confused for a second, and then just sighed, holding up the key with an outstretched hand, "You're next door."

You looked over at Sam again with an amused expression, taking beer out of the six pack and picking up your shoes from the floor. You left, grabbing the key from Dean on the way out, looking back at him before he closed the door, "Thanks."

--

The next day you were up and out as quickly as you could be, not wanting to keep them waiting, or give Dean any excuse to leave you behind. You were already standing by the Impala, still brushing your teeth, as the two men finally left the motel.

Dean eyed you over quickly, enjoying watching you relaxed, toothbrush hanging out of your mouth as you gave them a lopsided smile. He liked seeing you like this, almost domestic, not that he'd ever admit that to himself let alone to you.

You hocked the toothpaste out of your mouth onto the floor behind you and wiped you mouth with the back of your hand. Sam lent down to give you a side hug as Dean walked past you and found his place in the driver's seat. You followed his lead, climbing into the back.

You and Dean sat in silence as Sam spoke, he started by explaining the case, everything you'd missed before arriving yesterday, what they'd been doing, who'd they'd spoken to. You nodded along, hunting mode fully taking over as you sat serious in the back seat. Then he laid out the plan for the day.

"I'm telling you, she wasn't being completely honest with us, she knows more than she's letting on. I only need five, maybe ten minutes with her and I think she'd be willing to talk to me."

"But there's a cop outside her door?" You pitched up.

"Exactly right." He turned back to you and smiled, "You and Dean just need to distract him for long enough that I can get in there and talk to her, and then we're set."

You looked at Dean, who was watching you closely in the rearview, "Sounds good to me."

You pulled up around the corner of the house and all hopped out, stretching your legs. Sam said his goodbyes, walking round the opposite way to avoid any suspicion. You looked at Dean closely, "What do ya say? I go in, little bit of flirting, see if I can't get the cop away from that door for a bit?"

"I'm not sure that's the best idea." His forehead creased, "I think I should go with you."

You rolled your eyes at his protectiveness, "Right. Well, what do you suggest? You pretend to be my boyfriend, we've broken down and need some help with the car?"

He looked down at himself and then back to you, he didn't have to say anything about the age difference, you knew exactly what he was implying, "I'm not sure that's believable, sweetheart."

He didn't even mean to say the nickname. Something in his brain connecting the word boyfriend and you together pushed it out of him involuntarily. Your stomach still flooded with butterflies, even if you knew it was harmless.

"Well, follow my lead then, I think I have a better idea."

You began to walk away before he could stop you, catching up as you rounded the corner to the house, the cop within sight. He straightened his face, knowing he'd have to go along with whatever you had planned whether he liked it or not.

You marched up to the front door, a meak smile on your face as you tried to act docile, "Hey sorry, do you have a second?" You fluttered your eyelashes at the man.

He was closer to your age than Dean's, not unattractive but not what you were usually into. Well- you were usually only into Dean anyway.

"How can I help?"

"I'm so sorry to do this, we've been driving all night and somethings just happened to the car, we can't seem to work out what's going on and we just need a little help." Dean sidled up next to you as you continued speaking. You held out your hand to the man for a handshake, offering up a fake name you'd used before, and then looked over at Dean, "And this here's my daddy!"

You looked over at him with a grin, a glimmer in your eye only he could see. He didn't want to even begin to do the math on whether that was really possible. He swallowed hard as he looked between you and the cop, before finally relenting and holding out his own hand, "Name's Malcolm."

You almost laughed out loud, the mixture of fake name and the expression on his face too much, but you kept a straight face. You wrapped your arm around his waist, pulling him towards you, "My daddy really ain't much of a mechanic, ya see, it'd be a real big help if you could take a look at it?" You bit your lip, looking the man up and down slow enough that you knew he'd catch you.

You felt Dean tense up beside you, but he didn't say anything.

"Sure, I'll take a look."

You walked around the side of the building, keeping in line with the cop as Dean trailed behind you, trying to catch your eye but you wouldn't let him. You were fully engrossed in the act now, a small touch on the younger man's arm, a lingering look at his lips, you knew everything you were supposed to be doing.

Dean popped the hood for you as he started a mental timer of how long this would have to last before Sam would be done. You knew what an honor it was for Dean to be going along with this, to be using his precious car in the ruse, and you knew you couldn't fuck it up.

"So, this is the engine?" You asked, wide eyed, trying to act perplexed.

Dean didn't like watching you flirt, he never did. Protective, he called it, never jealous. But it was undeniable how much he loved watching you hustle. He almost blew the whole thing with a laugh as he watched you point around the engine, acting like you couldn't tell your alternator from your carburetor. But when your hand landed back on the top of the cops arm, his smile fell again as he swallowed hard.

"Sounds like a fuel pump issue to me." The cop said, turning back to you.

Your doubt almost seeped into your voice, but you let it sounds like naivety, "Fuel pump?"

"Yeah, you and your- ehem- father, could probably just get it replaced by the mechanic in town."

"Ya hear that, daddy?" You looked over at Dean again, widening your eyes to mask your sarcasm, "He says it's a fuel pump issue."

"Does he now?" Dean's jaw clenched.

You turned back to the cop, "Forgive him, he doesn't like to admit how little he knows about cars. Say, how do you know so much anyway?"

Dean watched as you turned back around, looking back into the engine as the man pointed out different sections. He let himself look, it wasn't often that he did, but between the deception and the daddys he couldn't help himself. He looked down at your body, your legs, your ass clad tight in jeans. He let his tongue sit on his bottom lip deep in thought as his eyes trailed over your body.

And that's when he spotted it, as you leant further in, your hand brushing the cop's, he spotted your new tattoo. He swallowed hard. He'd always seen you as innocent. Sure you flirted with guys on cases all the time, but he'd never actually know you to go home with with one. He thought of you as pure, virtuous, maybe even immature. But as he looked down at your tattoo, he felt a growing arousal hit him. He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts as quickly as they had arrived.

"Mechanic then?" He spoke up quickly, "I mean, you think we should take it to a mechanic?"

"Uh, yeah." The cop looked back over at him. You spun back, confusion on your face, this really didn't seem like enough time.

"Great, thanks." He held out his hand again for the cop to shake it, clearly a sign he'd overstayed his welcome. Your eyes grew larger: confused, angry.

You leant back into the cop, holding the top of his arm gently to stop him walking away, "Say, if we get stuck in this town overnight, where can I come find you?"

The cop looked between you and Dean, you could tell he'd made note of your black eye, "I'm not sure..."

You bit your bottom lip, letting your hand stroke down his arm, "Don't mind him, really, he wouldn't hurt a fly. Just gets a bit... protective of me sometimes."

He looked back at you, as you fluttered your eyelashes once again. "O'Reilly's Bar, downtown, that's where I tend to head after my shift."

You smiled at him as he pulled away, giving Dean a friendly nod before walking back the way he came. Your face dropped once he turned the corner, looking back at Dean, "What the fuck was that?!"

"What was what?!"

"Sam said ten minutes."

"He said five to ten! We've given him more than enough time!"

You let the hood of the car drop with a small clang. Dean winced slightly at the noise.

You both stood pacing for another few minutes, your jaw on edge as you tried to relax. Then you saw Sam turning the corner and you both let out a sigh of relief.

"All good?" Dean questioned once he was close enough.

"Think I've got everything we need!"

You smiled at him, "Had us worried there for a second. Dean, what was that?!" Now you knew Sam was safe, you could let your chastising begin.

"You have a tattoo." Dean spoke quietly, firmly, out of nowhere.

You let out a loud laugh, "I've got a few, what does that matter?"

"I- you've got a tramp stamp!?"

Sam looked between you and Dean, feeling like he was missing something. It didn't help that you felt like you were missing it too.

"Once again, I don't see how that matters?"

"You're a kid, you shouldn't be getting tattoos you're gonna regret! You can't even see it, what's the point?!"

Sam laughed, "Gives a guy something to look at when they bend her over." He looked at you with a knowing smile and you held back another laugh at his reference.

Dean's face dropped, "You're disgusting, dude, you're old enough to be her-"

He stopped himself, swallowing hard. The word daddy was glued between his lips, you knew it, and so did he.

Sam looked between the two of you, the tension sat between you as you eyed each other over cautiously. "I think I'm gonna walk back to the motel."

The concentration on Dean's face broke, "What are you talking about, that'll take hours."

"I just need to stretch my legs, you guys, uh, go on without me." He locked eyes with you, trying to tell you something with his expression that you couldn't completely understand, before turning on his heel and beginning to walk.

You looked at Dean, who looked at Sam, both of you confused but neither of you wanting to leave the moment. Eventually he slid into the driver's side, waiting for you to get in the car so he could start driving.

You both sat in silence as he drove back to the motel, occasionally glancing over at each other when the other wasn't looking. Eventually he broke, looking over at you, "A tattoo?"

"I've got loads, Dean, it's really not a big deal."

"You're just a kid."

"I'm old enough, Dean." The words were slick with implication. But you didn't want implication, you wanted him. You leant over, placing your hand on his thigh, "I'm old enough."

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, jaw clenching. He couldn't hide what he felt for you, he couldn't hide his looks when your back was turned, or the way he'd still smell your perfume in the Impala days after you'd left and miss you. But he knew he wasn't right for you, his life filled with too much danger, the distance between you too large, "I'd wreck you, sweetheart."

You knew what he meant, the solemn expression on his face, but it didn't stop you from looking over at him with a glisten in your eyes, "Maybe that's what I want."

There was a silent beat as you both sat in the moment. Then you pulled back, taking your hand off of his leg and sitting back down, eyes on the road. You were at the motel only a few minutes later, both of you shrouded in tension. He shut off the engine and you both sat, staring out the front window, neither of you willing yourselves to move.

He managed to whisper out the words, not looking at you, "You're just a kid."

You sighed and rolled your eyes. You knew he'd never see you how you wanted him to. The words hit you in the gut, winding you for a moment, making it hard to breathe in the small space.

You opened the car door, stumbling out and making your way to your room. Only a few hours and Sam would be back, then you could finish the hunt and get on with your life. Maybe you wouldn't even wait for him, just pack up and go. Yeah, that sounded good.

You heard the sound of Dean behind you, following your footsteps, but you didn't slow down. Frustration kept you moving, not even turning back.

He only caught up to you by the time you reached the doors to your rooms, grabbing your wrist to stop you going any further. You looked down at his hold, and then back to his face, his jaw tensed, worried lines creased into his forehead. He hooked a finger under your chin as he looked down at you, his eyes darting over your face.

He whispered again, "I'm too dangerous, sweetheart."

"I'm used to danger, Dean." You looked back down at his hand. He wasn't gripping you tight, you could push him away if you wanted, but you didn't want that. You wanted him touching you.

"You deserve someone your own age." His thumb reached out, lightly brushing over your bottom lip. You blinked hard to keep yourself composed as arousal flooded through you.

"I don't want anyone else." You replied back, meekly.

"It would never work." His eyes were firmly placed on your lips as his thumb brushed over them, before looking back at you.

You lowered your voice to match his, "I don't care."

He leant down torturously slowly, looking between your eyes and your lips. You didn't want to move, afraid of scaring him off, but you pushed yourself up only slightly onto your tiptoes to help close the gap between the two of you.

And then his lips were on yours. Soft, hesitant at first. They locked together, fitting into place around each other. He savoured the moment, the feeling of your lips. You held your breath as you leant into him, his hand moving to your jaw holding you tight, afraid that if he let go he might lose the moment. He allowed himself to kiss you deeper, his tongue swiping out to your lip, testing the waters, his other hand reaching for your waist, pulling you closer.

He pushed his tongue into your mouth, exploring you, as your own hand came up to his cheek, feeling his stubble harsh against your fingertips. You felt as he let go of your waist, fumbling with his keys as he tried to open the door to the motel without breaking away from you. You placated him for a moment, continuing to kiss him as you listened to the sound of keys jangling, before breaking away from him, allowing him to look at the door and finally get it open. He blinked hard as he looked down at you again, taking you in, the feeling of you still on his lips.

As you looked at him you could see his mind racing as thoughts filled it, his eyes darting over your body, his forehead beginning to crease without him realizing it. You reached out again before his thoughts could get the better of him, grabbing his shirt and pulling him into the room, your lips back on his, harder, seeking him out.

You were on your knees within seconds, pushing him against the wall and dropping in front of him, fumbling with his belt. His head rolled back instinctively, hitting the wall, as you pulled out his cock, wrapping your mouth around it without a second thought. It took you a moment to adjust to his size, but once you had you began to play with him on your tongue, letting your lips envelope him. And then you pushed your head down, taking him in your mouth, his head hitting the back of your throat as you choked down his salty taste. The sounds of you below him caused his fist to tighten at his side, a loud grunt escaping his lips as he lost all control.

But this isn't how he wanted it, you on your knees praising his cock. What the hell- of course that's what he wanted- but not right now. Right now he needed to show you what a real man could do.

He cupped your cheek gently as you looked up at him. He gave himself one last look at you, swallowing down is cock with wide eyes, before gently pulling you off of him.

You looked at him, confused, as he helped you to your feet, cautious that he'd come to his senses, that he'd tell you it was a mistake. Instead he just let his eyes roam your face.

"Dean, let me keep going-" you wrapped your hand around his cock, desperate for more.

"Next time, darlin'." The idea of a next time set your skin aflame, a flush overwhelming you. "Can I touch you?"

You lead him towards the bed, your lips connected again as you moved, his hands roaming over your body, tugging at the bottom of your shirt. You pulled at your own jeans, desperate to be unclothed as quickly as possible, while Dean broke away for a second to pull your shirt over your head.

He stopped to look down at you as you kicked your jeans off your ankles, taking you in. He'd never allowed himself to look at you like this before, it was always stolen glances, small looks, but now, with you naked except for underwear in front of him, he eyed you greedily. He made note of your tattoos, the ones he didn't know existed an hour ago, as he sought every inch of you, devouring you with his eyes.

He gently guided you down towards the bed, and you pulled him on top of you as you laid down, bodies entwined. He pulled his own shirt off before sinking back against you, skin pressed against skin as he kissed you, his mouth heavier, needier. You guided his head down to your neck, and he kissed messily against your skin. His cock twitched at the idea of putting a hickey on your perfect, innocent neck, of marking his territory.

He let his teeth graze slightly over your skin and you let out a gasp, rolling your head back as your hand combed through his hair. He chuckled lightly against you before biting down, sucking at your neck as you moaned into him. He could feel his cock rock hard in his boxers for you already, and your noises weren't making it any easier.

He pulled back only slightly to catch sight of you again, looking down at your body under him, before looking back to your face, watching him closely, "You're gorgeous."

His finger trailed down your collarbone absentmindedly, and you bit your lip as warmth spread over you. He made easy work of the clasp on your bra and pulled it off of you, his tongue darting out at the sight. Lowering his body down he lightly kissed at your skin here and there as you closed your eyes and relaxed back into the bed, letting the feelings take you over. He nestled between your legs, small kisses dotting your inner thigh, where the desperation to ruin you took him again, and he bit down hard. You let out a small yelp, that quickly turned into a moan as you sunk into the feeling again, his teeth on your skin sending pleasure through you.

He kissed you lightly over your underwear, and you whined quietly, needy. You felt as his finger came up to circle your clit through the fabric, and you pushed your hips up, desperate for his touch.

"You want me, darlin'?" He was half teasing, and half genuinely asking, his eyebrow cocked. You bit your lip as you looked back down at him, nodding enthusiastically. He hooked his fingers around the sides of your underwear, dragging them down your legs as he sucked in a ragged breath at the sight of you, completely naked below him.

His lips found your knee, then your inner thigh, working his way up dangerously slowly. You whined again for him, showing him how much you wanted him. He looked back up at you with a creased forehead, "You tell me if it's too much for you?"

You wanted to roll your eyes at his caution, but instead only nodded again as you looked down at him between your legs. He slowly pushed a finger into your entrance, a strangled groan escaping his lips as you moaned, your pussy slick around him. He inched in slowly, desperate to feel you, before pulling out just as slow, dragging out your pleasure. Slow, gentle thrusts as your pussy clenched around him.

"Dean- Please..." You pleaded, all you were able to get out, desperate for more.

You felt as he pushed a second finger into you and you gripped the sheets next to you, his movements still gentle, taking his time to stretch you open. And then his mouth was on you, softly lapping up your juices as his tongue roamed your folds. You let out another gasp, tightening your grip on the sheets.

Long strokes with a flat tongue, desperate to taste as much of you as he could, as his fingers gained speed, beginning to thrust in and out of you with ease. And then his tongue darted out, only for a second, to your clit, testing for your movements, your reaction.

You let out a loud gasp, wrapping your legs over his shoulders, needy for his mouth, for his hands. He began moving his fingers faster, building up momentum as you felt your orgasm rising. He kept lapping you up, his whole mouth on you with deliberate movements as you grinded against him, your rutting only pushing him deeper into you.

And then he curled his fingers, only slightly, continuing to thrust into you as he pressed against your g-spot. You felt your whole body clench up as you came, rolling your head back with a loud gasp as waves of pleasure flowed through you and you pulsed below him. He kept his movements steady, letting you ride out your orgasm as he continued to push his fingers into you.

He felt as you relaxed again into the sheets, coming down from your high with heavy breath, your hand moving down to comb through his hair gently.

He broke away from you for a moment, kissing your inner thigh lightly, "That okay? You okay?"

"Yes, Dean!" You laughed, exasperated, "Fuck, that was good!"

His kissing got messier again as he nipped at your skin, small red marks forming along the inside of your thigh that he kissed lightly, acknowledging his handy work. You went to sit up, reaching down to cup his face, but his grip on your legs tightened, keeping you in place as he continued to kiss against your skin.

He pulled you back down, closer to him, as his face moved back towards your pussy, still sensitive as you continued to come down from your orgasm. And then he dove in again, messier, frenzied, desperate to taste you. His tongue moved rapidly against you, and you rolled your head back again, not expecting the pleasure that rocked your body.

He lifted you towards him, your legs over his shoulders, one hand going to the small of your back to support you as he kneeled upright, pulling your ass off of the bed. His whole mouth was on you as he pushed his tongue through your folds, tasting you, his stubble rubbing against you sending your back arching. He sucked lightly at your swollen clit and you let out a pleading gasp, the feeling almost too much. He broke away for only a second to eye up your reaction before pushing back in, his pointed tongue darting out over your clit, not giving you a moment without stimulation.

He circled your bud messily, desperately, as you writhed below him, another orgasm rising quickly. He didn't relent, his need for you overwhelming any other thought as he continued to savor you. His free hand came up to spread your folds apart as he lapped at you, your wetness practically dripping over his chin as he sucked and licked at you.

"Dean- I'm gonna-" you panted out, rolling your head back into the pillow.

Without a response he focused back on your clit, flicking at it with the pointed end of his tongue. He felt your legs tense around him again and sped up his movements, overwhelming your body.

You came again, hard, grinding into him, a shuddering moan escaping your lips. He continued his frenzied movements as you choked out a desperate gasp, blinding pleasure overtaking you.

His movements slowed in time with you, letting you come down slowly from your shattering high. He rested one hand on your stomach, lowering you back down onto the bed, as he continued to slowly lap you up, staying away from your overstimulated clit. He watched you go limp below him as you sunk back into the sheets, your chest rising and falling heavily.

He kissed your thigh lazily as you came to, looking down at the grin spread across his face. "Y' okay, sweetheart?"

"Fuck-" You looked back up at the ceiling.

You heard him chuckling as he knelt back up, looking down at you, yearning for more. He reached out to lightly brush your clit with his thumb and you moved to clamp your legs together instinctively, earning a tsk out of his mouth as he moved his hand away again, "Sensitive?"

You only nodded in response, looking back at him with wide eyes.

"You ready for more?" He looked down at you, and then at his own cock, desperately hard beneath his boxers.

"Yes, Dean- Please-"

He looked down at you again, and then started to move, "I've got a rubber in my wallet-"

You grabbed his wrist, "Just pull out."

He looked at your body, your gorgeous naked body that he couldn't drag his eyes away from, the dark marks starting to form on your inner thigh and neck. He'd come this far, he'd earned you, but he knew he still had an obligation to keep you safe. "-It's in my wallet."

You rolled your eyes with a smile, shaking your head only slightly as he stood up, pulling off the rest of his clothes and fumbling around in the pile until he found his wallet, pulling out the rubber and ripping the packaging quickly with his teeth. A small pit formed, trying to push away your thoughts of where he was planning on using it, who he'd been planning on using it on. He turned back to you and you pulled yourself up instinctively, rolling over with your ass in the air, arching your back with your head buried down in the pillows, ready for him.

You felt him kneel behind you again, his eyes trained on your ass, the tattoo on your lower back, your pussy still pulsing as he trailed his finger over your wetness, causing you to let out another small gasp.

"Not- not like this...", heavy blinks bringing him to his senses.

You looked back over your shoulder, eyeing him carefully, "I thought you were going to wreck me, Winchester."

He broke his eyes away from your ass finally, feeling triumph at his self discipline, "I want to see your face-"

You swallowed hard at his confession, your mind buzzing as he guided you to lay down again, your back sinking into the sheets as he positioned himself above you, holding himself up with one arm next to your head, his other hand lining his cock up to your entrance.

He teased the head of his cock through your folds, as his eyes traced over your face carefully, watching your for your expression, "You sure?"

"Dean- Please-"

His face darkened, "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He pushed into you slowly, his cock stretching you out. You bit your lip, wincing only slightly as you adjusted to his size, but as the pleasure of his movements filled you, you moaned, your shaking hand moving up to his chest as he began to thrust into you.

"You okay?" He watched you carefully.

You smiled in response, pressing your forehead against his, "You're big-"

He half chuckled, masking a genuine question with sarcasm, "Too big?"

"Biggest I've ever had." You laughed lightly, your hand flowing down over his body.

The thought caused a pang of jealousy to hit him, that you'd ever had anyone else, that other men had had you. But as you moaned beneath him, your own hips moving in time with his, guiding him in, he didn't care. Right now you were his, utterly and completely.

He watched your face again, soft grunts escaping his mouth as he thrusted, gaining speed. You felt as his expression tightened, his eyes fixed on the bruise next to your eye. You tried to turn your face away from his gaze but he stopped you, cupping your cheek with his free hand.

Both of you stared at each other for a moment before he pushed his forehead against yours again, "You're mine."

You gasped at the statement, another orgasm rising within you, speeding up your own movements as he began to drive into you harder. His expression softened as his breathing became more strained, "You're mine. And you're safe."

You smiled up at him as you felt your orgasm on the edge, your hands wrapping around his shoulder for leverage as you continued to move under him, your leg wrapping around him to push him into you completely.

You relaxed your forehead against him as you let pleasure dissolve your body, quaking under him as you came. He held his breath as your walls convulsed around his cock, pushing him to his own edge as you leant up for a messy kiss, lips colliding while your orgasm overtook you.

Within moments he was coming himself, breaking away from your kiss to push his face back into your neck, a groan vibrating through him. His thrusting faltered only slightly, and you kept your hips grinding against him as he saw out his release.

You both slowed, panting hard as he pulled his face back in front of yours, small kisses across your cheeks and nose. He kept himself in you for a moment, feeling your walls spasm against his cock as you came down from your high. And then he pulled back out of you again, kneeling in front of you as he pulled the condom off and threw it to one side.

He looked down at you as you closed your eyes, relaxing back down into the sheets below him. He kissed your legs lazily as you lay there, spent. He sucked in another breath, eyes tracing over your body, fixating on the new marks on your neck as his tongue darted out to wet his lip.

"You okay?" He sighed as you sat back up, stretching your body.

You smiled, warmth filling your face, "Yes, Dean, yes I'm okay- more than okay."

He blinked hard, "Sam'll be back soon."

You pouted out your bottom lip, sarcasm dancing behind your eyes, "You think he'll join us if we ask him nice enough?"

Dean's jaw tightened as he rolled his eyes at you, "Put your clothes back on."

You hopped off of the bed, bending down to pick your clothes up off the floor as Dean looked at you, longing still holding him.

You looked back at him over your shoulder as you stood back straight, "You're staring."

"You're beautiful." He climbed off the bed after you, his finger hooked under your chin once again, "You're so beautiful."

A pause. He leant down to kiss your forehead, his voice barely louder than a whisper, "But you need to put your clothes on before Sam gets back. I ain't sharing."

[pink-petal-horns]

Dumb & Poetic

Bob Floyd x Fem!Reader

You always liked the loud ones.

The guys who knew how to work a room, throw a wink, rattle a bottlecap on the table with a cocky laugh. You’d fall for them fast, just as fast as they’d forget to call you back.

There was something about their edges, the way they caught the light like shiny things you knew better than to touch, but always did anyway.

And then—Bob.

Not flashy. Not loud. Not even remotely interested in taking up space he didn’t earn.

Which, in your history of “types,” meant you almost missed him entirely.

—

You met him in the bar one night, the kind of night when the Navy pilots swarm Hard Deck like it’s their own little arena. Jake Seresin—Hangman—was holding court at the pool table, Phoenix was tossing darts with deadly aim, and Bob?

He was sitting in the corner. Reading. Reading, in a bar where everyone was busy being a headline.

You had a drink in your hand and a headache from someone else’s charm. So when you noticed the quiet guy with the soft eyes and crooked smile trying to make himself smaller in a crowd that prized the biggest personalities, something in you tugged.

“What are you reading?” you asked, easing into the chair beside him.

Bob blinked like he hadn’t expected anyone to approach him—definitely not you, in a leather jacket and lip gloss and the remnants of someone else’s kiss still cooling on your neck.

“Just, uh, Dandelion Wine,” he said, showing you the cover. “Ray Bradbury.”

You tilted your head. “You read that for fun?”

He gave you a sheepish shrug. “It’s kind of… dumb and poetic, I guess.”

You laughed. It was the first real laugh you’d had in a while.

—

You didn’t mean to fall for Bob Floyd.

But he had this way of making you feel seen—not watched, like the other guys, but understood.

He asked questions and actually waited for your answers. He remembered little things, like how you hated cold drinks without straws and how your favorite song made you cry in a good way.

He didn’t flirt in the traditional sense. He didn’t make you dizzy. He made you safe.

You weren’t used to safe. You were used to boys who recited lyrics and sonnets with the same sincerity they used to pick up the bartender two nights later.

But Bob?

Bob didn’t need metaphors.

—

It was three months in when you finally cracked.

You were sitting on the hood of his car, the stars out, the air between you easy and warm. He’d just driven you back from a beach bonfire, and you still had sand in your hair and sun on your cheeks.

“I don’t get you,” you said.

Bob blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You’re just—” you huffed. “You don’t try to be anything. You’re not pretending. You don’t even flirt right.”

He chuckled, then turned his head to face you. “And that’s a problem?”

“No, it’s just…” You bit your lip. “You’re not like the guys I usually go for.”

Bob’s eyes didn’t flicker. “Guess I should take that as a compliment or a warning.”

You looked at him, really looked. He had this steadiness to him. A kindness that wasn’t performative.

“You should take it as both,” you whispered.

He nodded once. “Okay.”

That was the thing about Bob. No dramatics. No fireworks. Just quiet understanding.

You leaned your head on his shoulder and wondered if he had any idea what he was doing to you.

—

You started to fall hard.

Not because he bought you flowers or shouted love songs from balconies. But because he held your hand like it was something sacred.

Because he showed up. Every time.

Because when you cried after a bad day, he didn’t try to fix it with a joke or a kiss. He just sat with you. Quiet. Present.

Bob Floyd never made you feel like you had to perform to be loved.

And God, you were so used to performing.

—

It was your birthday when it happened.

The bar was packed. Everyone was there. The guys were drinking, dancing, yelling over each other. You were in the middle of it, spinning in a dress that someone else once told you was “too much.”

Bob walked in a little late, glasses slightly fogged, holding a cupcake instead of a gift.

He looked awkward and adorable and entirely out of place in the chaos.

But when you saw him, you stopped spinning.

You walked straight over to him, heart thudding.

“You came,” you said.

He held up the cupcake. “I didn’t know what to get you. But you said once you loved funfetti. This one’s got rainbow sprinkles.”

You blinked back something suspiciously close to tears.

“It’s dumb and poetic,” you said softly.

He smiled. “You like dumb and poetic.”

You pulled him down by the collar and kissed him. Right there, in the middle of the noise and the neon and the glitter of a life you were finally willing to leave behind.

—

It wasn’t always perfect.

You still had a sharp tongue. You still craved drama some nights. You picked fights when you felt too seen, too safe, too loved.

But Bob never raised his voice. Never threw your chaos back at you like a weapon.

He just waited. Anchored.

And one day, you looked at him across your messy kitchen table—his hair sticking up, wearing that NASA t-shirt you stole three weeks ago—and you thought, this is the kind of love that writes poetry in action, not words.

—

You used to fall for the ones who made you feel like fireworks.

Now?

You’d take Bob Floyd every time.

The one who never needed to be loud to be important.

The one who brought you cupcakes and calm.

The one who sat beside you, even when you didn’t make sense.

The dumb and poetic one.

Yours.

Always.

[iloveglomp]

You're Huge

You’re huge. I mean, you were always a little on the chubbier side, but now, you’re absolutely massive. Your belly hangs lower every day, slowly piling down your legs, covering your fupa, and pushing outward. Those once chunky, adorable legs of yours are covered in cellulite and wider than my waist, rolls and stretch marks all over your juicy thick lower belly and ballooning heart shaped ass leading to those meaty, overflowing love handles I love to grab while fucking you. You’ll probably end up immobile, but you and I wouldn’t want it any other way…

When I first met you, you were a short barista at my local coffee house, your messy, deep red hair folded into a bun, and your soft brown eyes twinkling with attraction behind those nerdy glasses you had on. I left you a tip with my number written on it, and you pocketed the cash, messaging me later that day. I never thought that would work, and landing such a good-looking girl like you was beyond luck. We were meant to be, and I would make sure to enjoy every ounce of you. We texted back and forth constantly, flirting and feeling out who we really were. We hit it off over the phone, and I planned a date for us, just a picnic and some snacks in the park. The weather was wonderful, so why not? I met you in the parking lot, your red hair flowing behind you as your beautifully red lips formed an adorable smile. I brought you flowers and champagne, and you got a picnic basket full of sweets and salty snacks, your favorite. I lay out the blanket and pop us the champagne, you set up the snacks, and take a seat next to me. Your slightly chubby thighs wobble as you bounce your legs nervously about our date, but I can tell you’re into me. I soak in every detail about you now that we’re so close.. Your dimples when you smile, the way your teeth have the slightest gap in the middle, your golden septum piercing, always slightly crooked. I admire how your body fills out for such a low weight, probably around 140lbs at 5’0”, short but thick, and I’m into it. Your backside and legs curve beautifully, leading to a hint of a belly and a more slender upper body with small B-cups. You have a tattoo of a bumble bee on your right shoulder with a sleeve of wild flowers underneath it, which looks cute on you, fitting your aesthetic nicely. As we talk and drink more champagne, I can tell you’re a lightweight as you get touchier and giggle often, showcasing your bubbly personality and tendency for playful banter. As the sun sets, our conversation grows more intimate, and I steal a kiss. You melt into my arms as we fall deeper into each other's embrace. The spark lit between us was strong and fiery, I knew I would be seeing way more of you in more than one way soon enough. 

We went on several more dates, always centered around lounging about and snacking or going to dinner and a movie. You would overindulge, then lie back in the theatre chair, resting your belly as you zoned out. You were never physically active, and it was already having its side effects. I started picking you up from work, taking you on surprise dates, and going out to eat with you more often than not. You loved the attention and couldn’t get enough food and drinks when we went out, the alcohol causing you to overeat late into the night. I had you falling head over heels after a few more weeks of romantic outings. I decided it was time to ask you out, so I booked us at an especially nice restaurant, telling you to wear your best dress. When I picked you up, I walked to your studio apartment door, but you opened it before I could even knock. I was in awe of your looks that night, your dress clung so tightly to your slowly expanding frame. Every detail of how much weight you had put on was showing in all the right places. Your thighs and ass tight against the fabric as your pooch stuck out noticeably. Even your boobs were looking extra swollen as your arms and shoulders appeared softer and less defined. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you and your infectious smile. Everything about that night was perfect; we had a large dinner, with you ordering steak and lobster, mashed potatoes, risotto, and scallops. It was way more than you could eat, but I let you try to at the very least, encouraging you to take bite after bite as I fed you more. We can’t afford to come here all the time, so make sure you get your fill, baby. I would top off your glass of wine and watch as you forced another bite down your throat. By the end of our date, you were packed to the brim, drunk, and ecstatic that I asked you to be my girlfriend. I took you home, and you pulled me into your bedroom, itching to get out of that tight dress that once fit so comfortably. You unbuttoned my shirt and practically ripped my pants off ravenously, hungry for a treat only I could give you. My muscular frame towered over you as I took my strong arms and peeled the delicate dress off of you. Your stomach was so full and tender, I could tell I needed to be gentle with you because of how much you ate. You lay down, letting out a huge sigh of relief as you lock eyes with me, begging for something more. I grab your juicy legs and pull you to the edge of the bed, resting them on my shoulders and I grab my pulsing, girthy dick and begin to tease you with it. Rubbing it around your clit and slowly entering and exiting just the beginning of your hole. You beg me for more, telling me you want to be filled to the max as your tight gut and growing tits sway back and forth from my hips bumping into you. I slowly insert myself all the way to the end of my shaft, your eyes closing as you let out a sharp moan and cry in pleasure. Your warm thighs and soft ass slap against my strong core as I thrust in and out of you methodically, gentle but intense. As I near climax, you tighten around my shaft, begging me to release my seed inside of you. I cum hard, emptying my load as I grab your meaty thighs and stare at the tight drum of a belly that turns me on so much. I couldn’t wait to fatten you up into my prized piggy. 

You’re finally six hundred pounds, you’ve been so good for me, piggy. You’re so complacent, so enthusiastic about your gain. You can’t slow down, even on days you’re sleeping more than eating, the number continues to climb. You’re permanently filled with calories your body struggles to metabolize and store somewhere on your massively overgrown body. Your huge stomach is now three rolls, each heavier and flabbier than the last. I can’t even lift it up without using equipment. Your tits are so huge, round and swollen. They weigh so heavily on you, I know it’s getting harder to breathe under all this luscious fat you have piled on. You make noises like a good little piggy, too. A squeal for pleasure or a whine for attention. I make sure you get whatever you want; you deserve it for being so good to me. We can only have sex in doggy now, your huge gut won’t allow it any other way, and you get too hungry to stop eating during sex. You get lifted up, propped on pillows and eat your fill of rich calorie dense foods as I take you from behind, pulling that huge jiggly mountain of an ass you grew for me apart as I insert myself into you, throbbing and ravenous to feel you. It’s so warm and jaw-droppingly wet, the weight of your body making it so tight and pleasurable. You love it when I tease you for being so huge. Even if I just tell you how fag you are and how much of an immobile obese cow you are you go wild with lust. You probably orgasm multiple times a day, even from the slightest hint of pleasure. I can tell when your breath quickens and you squirm and writhe, begging me for release, you rely on me for everything now, and I wouldn’t want it any other way for my beautiful goddess and her hundreds of pounds of fat engulfing her. 

When you hit seven hundred pounds, your poor body struggling to keep up with your voracious appetite, you’ve become a truly transformed woman. You were just a huge, dumb cow now. You barely spoke besides simple demands. Food, sex, bathroom, TV, etc. You loved being such an obedient, helpless blob. Every calorie you consumed you knew would make us both happy, so you shoveled them down relentlessly, eager for more pleasure and soft fat to admire. You could barely move at all. Propped up on pillows and pampered 24/7 as you grew to larger sizes. I had you naked now, clothes were no use. Cleaned and lotioned, baby powder and scented oils rubbed all over you as you enjoyed your fluffy body and how it jiggled and quaked at every touch. You could barely use your arms at all; they were too heavy and caused you to struggle so much, leaving you breathless and sweating after a few minutes. I hand-fed you now, encouraging and enabling you to continue ballooning up for me. You obeyed and opened wide, happy for another delicious bite of fat, greasy food to go down your throat. I installed a mirror over the bed so you could see how you continued to swell up. You didn’t know who you were anymore; all you could see was rolls of flesh and piles of lard flowing out in every direction. Everything was so massive and soft, so heavy and jiggly. You wanted more, your appetite insatiable. You wanted to be at least 1,000 lbs before your arteries finally clogged and you gave out. I think we can make it work, probably get you even bigger than that, don’t you think, piggy? Will you be a good girl for me and take another bite? 

[sooniebby]

The idea of a singer being a stalker instead of them being stalked is something that needs to explored more. Bonus, if the person being stalked isn’t particularly scared about it.

More specifically, the stalker being the reader. Bottom male reader.

A reader who’s always been watching his classmate since junior high school (middle school). The classmate wasn’t anyone special to others, average grades with average looks.

But you didn’t mind, him being average meant you didn’t have to fight for his attention. It was small things, just paying attention to his favorite foods and leaving them in his shoe locker.

Then slowly it blossomed. You made sure he got home safe. You found out what cram school he visited and made sure to leave snacks for him, can’t study on an empty stomach!

Increasingly, you noticed he began to get a bit paranoid, always looking behind himself. But he never made any effort to report you to the police or anything. Even when his friend suggested it at first, he practically shot it down fast.

However, after graduating to senior high school, you soon realized he wasn’t paranoid over you. He was getting bullied.

It didn’t take you long to handle it. Despite being a loner and a bit on the shorter side compared to the bully. There’s nothing a bully can do against castration. It’s quite easy to incapacitate someone who drinks a lot.

After, you expected him to act the same. And while he did—you noticed that he would look over at you in class. The first time it happened you practically had a panic attack and ran out of the classroom. He’s never looked at you at all despite the two of your being in the same class for four years straight.

You briefly wondered if he knew. Certainly acting like that would’ve confirmed his suspicions.

Luckily for you—he seemed to never look your way again. You’d know, you spend most of the day staring at him. When you finally graduated, you couldn’t be happy at all.

You’d failed to get into the university he applied to. Maybe you should’ve paid more attention to school. You were about to just come up with a back up plan when your sister said she wanted to go somewhere with you.

Just your luck, she tricked you in attending an audition at a music competition. You and her used to sing a lot as kids but you had stopped to focus on him. Of course, the devil was out to get you when you both managed to last until the final round.

Privacy wasn’t a thing for you after that. Your sister persuaded you to get signed at a company. Your parents as well since you technically had nothing else going for you—you did fail the exam for each college you tried at. (That was a lie, you had only applied to one)

Before you didn’t need to dress up to stalk him. You were pretty average as well—but now people recognized you. Especially because the company loved to advertise you as a “emo boy.” You took offense to that—just wearing black didn’t make you an emo.

But in any case, you had to start wearing clothes you wouldn’t be caught dead in. Watching him was harder this time… because he was surprising popular at his university. Everyone talked to him more often and invited him to hang out.

You didn’t understand, he didn’t change how he looked. In any case, you thought he was handsome first. You had dibs. It was getting increasingly difficult to just standby as men and women flirted with him.

Then your worst nightmare happened—he had a date. You stalked it, of course. Dressed in a bright pink shirt with white pants. Hair styled nicely compared to the mess you usually kept it. People really didn’t recognize you when you actually put effort into your looks.

You played with your knife as you watched them chat at the table across from you. The blade was too dull for your liking. Though you had only really used it to castrate that guy. And maybe… to scare off a few people in high school… but you’d never kill—seemed pointless.

As the date finally ended, you were pleased to see him turn down the girl’s offer to come to her place. You watched in satisfaction as she walked away dejectedly. She’s a pretty girl, she’ll find someone else.

You were too busy watching that you hadn’t even noticed someone behind you.

“I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Your body froze. You couldn’t move at all. A laugh left him as he tapped your shoulder.

“Are you going to run away again? I didn’t think you’d still stalk me after becoming a singer. You’re…”

You expected him to cuss you out but to your shock he said.

“Dedicated. Really dedicated. It’s cute.”

“A…what?” You whispered, slowly turning around to face him.

He was smiling at you. Smiling as if he was talking to a friend and not his stalker for over seven years. Was he insane?

Well you weren’t one to talk.

“Cute. I’m glad you didn’t run away this time. Here, gimme your LINE ID.” He said, pulling out his phone. You could only stare at him as he waved his phone. “C’mon, I’m speaking Japanese, yeah?”

“I… wait… are you—? Don’t you know I’ve been stalking you for almost eight years?”

“Mhm.”

“And that I almost followed you to your university? It wasn’t even a university I wanted to go, i don’t even know what I wanted, only if it had you.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you listening to me? I castrated a guy for you.”

“So that’s what you did… he wouldn’t tell me what happened at all,” he muttered, effectively ignoring everything else you did.

“….I followed you on a date, why aren’t you…” you couldn’t help yourself and grabbed his shirt, shaking him a bit. “This can’t be real. Why aren’t you scared?”

“You’re telling me things I already know.” He gazed down at you, his hand reached up and grasped the back of your head. “Why would I be scared if I liked it all?”

You blinked just as he kissed your cheek, a wide grin on his lips.

“You’ve watched me for this long,” he whispered, his hand slowly reaching down to grab your chin as he forced you to look up at him.

“But didn’t seem to notice that I was watching you too, (Name)-Chan.”

I’m bored so I made this longer than necessary. I always thought the idea of someone always having known they’re being stalked—making it easier for their stalker to learn stuff about them. That’s what he’s implying, btw. He didn’t stalk you, he just always noticed when you were watching him.

Reader isn’t a reliable narrator.

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @tehyunnie @iwishtobeacrow @chill-guy-but-cooler @star-3214 @remdayz @mello-life25 @kiiyoooo @ofclyde @cherry-blossoms-187 @smellwell @euthymiko @rhetorical-conscience @tomoeroi @love-kha1 @secretivemessenger @mooncarvers-world @bensontrechic @yuzuukix @anchoredphoenix @roi-henri-xxii @m00n-b4b3 @ning1e